#earthling reader

His nose nuzzles into the flesh just above your jawline, mustache tickling your chin. “Take all of me, cyar’ika. I know you can do it, love.” Then he’s grunting, “Fuck, so fucking tight. It’s never felt like this before. Maker, aalar bid jate, cyare,” he trails off in Mando’a. 

Words aren’t really an option in your current state, so you only whine helplessly in response to Din’s wanton ramblings. He’s so lost in the heat of his own passion, talking you through this new sexual experience like your own horny personal trainer and loving every second of it. It’s clear as day in his tone.

“You’re already doing so well, cyar’ika. Just a little more.” His tongue traces the edge of your earlobe for a moment before he nibbles on it, and your core flares dangerously hot in response to the new sensations he’s causing. “Almost there, fuck." 

Every inch of your body is aflame in a way you’re not used to as he presses every inch of his cock into your ass, which up until about ten minutes ago was pretty much the last major thing the two of you had yet to try in the, for lack of a better word, bedroom.

It’s always like this when he’s got you blindfolded, yet somehow this time it’s all brand new. Normal touch always feels so intense with the blindfold on, but now it’s like you’ve taken a dose of ecstasy and you’re in the middle of a hard wave of it. Only there’s no drug, and tonight things have been dialed up to fifteen. Maybe even twenty.

Your hands are cuffed behind your back, your knees are practically touching your ears in the position he's got you pinned in, and Din’s thumb is shoved deep into your mouth to silence your moans as he drives into you with his damp forehead pressed to yours. As you suckle, whimpering all the while, he’s pressing the pad of his opposable digit ever so slightly against your tongue. The loss of one of your senses, along with the loss of control over your own arms and mouth, have you spiraling into a submissive mindset. Din’s here, he’s the only person in the universe you would ever trust to have you in this vulnerable of a position, and you’re loving every delicious moment of it. 

The sensations taking over your body are unlike anything you’ve experienced before, even though you’ve tried anal play a few times in the past. But that was a long time ago, when you were naive and insecure. It had been another life with an ex boyfriend back on Earth you barely remember. Whoever he was certainly hadn’t been as proficient in the act of fucking you as Din Djarin is now, in this new life you wouldn’t trade for anything. With Din your entire body is always aflame in the best possible way, and right now the deliciousness of it is nearly too much for your overwhelmed senses. 

“Fuck, cyar’ika. Your body feels so fucking good,” he breathes desperately in your ear, and then Din’s thumb is replaced by his tongue as he kisses you deeply. 

The rough, intense neediness of it is dripping all over your essence and you know in an instant that The Force is helping you to feel every bit of his passion for you. His hands come to cup your face and it’s as if he’s willing you to feel his emotions. And perhaps he is. Wave after wave of intense feelings swirl through the either to co-mingle with your own, causing your eyes to roll back behind the pink fabric shielding them from the unknown visage of your exposed lover.

Nope, no drugs. Just the man you hope to call your husband one day with his cock buried all the way to the hilt in your ass for the first time. 

He moves an index finger to softly circle your clit. Every inch of his sweaty flesh is all over yours, and it’s as if he finally found some sort of angle to make your bodies lock together more than they ever had before. It’s bliss in the purest form of the word. 

“Din, fuck,” you’re whining, feeling the edge of your orgasm beginning to build. “Ner verd, ni linibar bic. Aalar bid jate!” 

Din chuckles handsomely, slowing his thrusts. Both things only serve to drive you mad with need. “Speaking Mando’a while I take your ass? You really are a good girl for me, aren’t you, cyar’ika?”

“Oh, god,” you whine, “please don’t stop, Din. Please, I’m begging you.”

His voice is just above your face, the lilt in it full of humor. “Begging me, huh? Begging me for what?” 

His finger halts its ministrations, and you groan deeply in frustration as the budding orgasm quickly fades.

“You know what, goddammit,” you grunt, body suddenly unsure as to whether or not it’s growing tired of the intrusion now that he’s slowed his gyrations down nearly to a stop. It really only feels good when there’s movement.

Then a nipple is captured lightly between a set of teeth, which bare down for a fraction of a second, and a sharp cry erupts from your throat. He chuckles again, “I’m sorry, but I only respond to polite requests, cyar’ika.”

“Since when?” You bite back in a bratty tone, and unsurprisingly receive another real but soft bite to the other nipple in response. You can’t help but grin, despite wanting to play along that he’s holding some sort of power over you.

Between heavy breaths you plead, “Alright, alright! I get it. I’m sorry for being a brat. Please, Din. I need to cum so fucking bad. And I wanna feel you fill me up with yours. We never get to do that. Just the thought of it has me close. Please keep going.”

A finger finds your clit again for a moment, and then you feel the thick digit enter your neglected cunt. The gasp you let out morphs into a deep wanton moan as that finger is followed shortly by two of its brothers. Suddenly you’re fuller than you’ve ever been in your life, and Din begins thrusting into your stretched ass once more. Gently at first, then he’s bucking into you with an intensity that nearly makes you forget your own name. His fingers find your g-spot, his thumb your clit. This time when the orgasm begins to build a slew of curses and unintelligible things begin to fall from your mouth in a voice you’re not even sure is your own. 

“I want to hear you beg for it in Mando’a, ner cyare,” Din demands lovingly in your ear.

Without a second thought, what is surely becoming your second language begins pouring from you, “Gedet'ye, Din! Gedet'ye! Gotal'ur ni olaror! Gedet'ye, ner verd! Ni linibar bic, gedet'ye!” 

“Good fucking girl,” Din sighs happily into your neck, and drives home both his fingers and his cock until the two of you crest over the peak of ecstasy one right after the other.

*****

Your eyes flutter open suddenly, and nothing in the universe could have ever prepared you for what you see when the dust in your eyes settles. Shock ripples through your aching body when you are briefly greeted with a soft looking mess of brown curly hair mere inches from your nose. Immediately, you squeeze your eyes shut again with a sharp but quiet gasp, and all at once you know that you’re in deep shit.

The last thing you remember is laying there with your blindfolded head on his chest, so the two of you must have fallen asleep holding one another in the aftermath of your passions. Thankfully, Din is still asleep with his back to you so you haven’t seen his face whatsoever. But Jesus fucking Christ you saw the back of his head. You’re not sure it was even real, but it has to be.

Like a fool, you pry one eye open again, just to check reality, and that same brown hair is right there in front of your face. If your eye could actually slam shut, the noise would have probably woken him. 

Holy fucking shit. It wasn’t your imagination. For a fraction of a moment you actually saw the back of Din’s head, and you’re not sure if you can handle what it’s doing to you. The taste of a tan ear’s soft upper slope, a sprinkle of gray mixed in with the dark brown mess of locks. It was unmistakably him while also being so foreign to you that it’s actively breaking your brain. It could have been anybody, but it was him.

It makes you both crave to see the rest of him and feel like you’ve completely betrayed him all at once. 

The fucking blindfold, you think. You still feel it tied to your head, but the knot must have come loose and the thing slipped up onto your forehead as you slept. How could the two of you have been so reckless? All at once you’re losing it, and tears begin falling freely as you cling to his back.

“Cyar’ika?” Din’s sleepy voice stirs along with his body. “Is something wrong?”

“Don’t move, hang on,” you say sharply, moving to slide the fabric back down over your eyes. “Okay, you’re good to roll over.”

“Are you in pain? I know we were careful but I still hurt you, didn’t I? Shit, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” Din’s voice is laced with worry as he turns back over to face you. His hands are already roaming your body, looking for the source of whatever ails you.

You grab for his hands to halt him. “No, I’m okay. I’m not in pain, not really.” 

He sounds sleepily confused, which under different circumstances would probably sound adorable. “Then what is it? I thought I heard you sniffle as if you were crying.”

Voice wavering, you shakily tell him the truth, “The blindfold, Din. It must have moved when we fell asleep. I-I opened my eyes and… fuck, I-I almost saw you. I almost broke your creed because I was careless. I feel so horrible for this, Din. I’m so sorry.” For a moment you wanted to debate not telling him, but that moment didn’t last very long. In your heart you know that the guilt of not telling him would eat away at you.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then you feel him move forward and cup your cheek in one hand. His thumb rubs soothing lines into your soft skin. “What did you see?” He asks, voice soft.

You’re surprised by how calm he sounds, and the tears begin flowing freely from your eyes again, soaking the pink fabric of your blindfold. “I saw your hair. And a little bit of your ear, Din. Oh god, I am so fucking sorry.” 

“Please stop apologizing,” he says quietly. “Nothing happened, and you’re not to blame. Nor are you careless.”

“But I could have ruined everything for you,” you whisper in reply, terrified.

“You didn’t, though.” Din says simply. So simply that you truly do not know how to feel about his calm tones. “I am not upset with you over something that didn’t happen, and the responsibility lies on both of our shoulders. I should have put the helmet back on, but laying with you felt good and I didn’t want to just yet. That’s on me. We can use this experience as a reminder to be more careful in the future, but I promise that I’m not mad and you do not need to be afraid that you’ve done something wrong.”

Din’s words sink into your being for a moment and you allow them time to really resonate with you. Instead of spiraling about this, you consciously choose to trust him. “Alright, then. If you’re confident that we haven’t completely screwed up, I will let this go. I just never want to be the reason that you break the creed, even if it’s an accident. I don’t know if I could live with myself if that happened.”

“I know, and I love you for how much you care about this,” Din says earnestly, the loving tone ever present in his voice. He kisses you once more, and from the way he cradles you like a precious artifact you can tell that this is the last kiss you’ll get for the time being. 

Once he lifts up, you breathe, “I love you too. Ni kar'taylir darasuum.”

His lips find your forehead for a moment and then they are gone just as quickly. “Ni kar'taylir darasuum. If Greef Karga had told me a year ago on this night that I would one day declare true love for you in the tongue of my people, I would have scoffed in the man’s face.”

Your heart swells at the realization of what his words mean, a grin spreading across your half covered face. “Wait a second, is that today?!”

With the sound of a hiss, Din’s voice is suddenly modulated once again. “Indeed it is, love. One year. An entire cycle of life together. A year of friendship. The Razor Crest is all the better for it.” 

He lifts the blindfold from you, and the sight of his helmet clad head upon his naked body is a sight for sore eyes. As much as you plan to secretly cherish that little sliver of the human man underneath forever, his beskar face is the one you fell in love with after all. 

“Well that explains why you wanted to try something different tonight,” you chuckle, feeling the effects of such intense sex throughout your body as you look him over. 

Your cosmic companion shrugs, a chuckle escaping through the crackle of his speakers. “I thought it might make things feel special.”

He gets up and offers you his hands, the two of you standing stark naked in the cockpit of the Razor Crest once he helps pull you to your feet. It would surely be a sight to behold if a rogue ship were to fly by. 

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, I feel special alright. And grimy. I think we could both use a good shower before we go to bed.”

“Too bad it’s not big enough for us to shower together.”

“Too bad it’s not a jacuzzi. I could really use a good soak and some jets right about now.”

“What the hell is a jacuzzi?!”

*****

Later, as Din lays pressed between the wall of the cot and your freshly cleaned, ample body, he finds himself unable to sleep while he contemplates what just transpired up in the cockpit. After an entire year of being incredibly careful, this is the closest call the two of you have ever had when it comes to his face. And honestly? Din’s really not that upset. You took the situation far more gravely than he did. 

“I just never want to be the reason that you break the creed…”

Your words filter through his mind, his chest tightening in response. If there was ever a reason for Din to break his creed, you and Grogu are surely it for him. Can’t you see that? 

And why are you so adamant about it not being you? 

Din has a feeling he knows you well enough to understand. If he had to guess, he’d say that you’ve been blamed for things your entire life. Blamed for things that were never your responsibility to begin with. As much as he’s watched you grow in the last year, that one is clearly a wound that still runs deep. 

Of course the idea of Din breaking his creed because of you would terrify you. But you haven’t stopped to consider that it wouldn’t be for anyone other than Din himself. Yes, you are ultimately a major part of why he’s been able to think about this subject positively in the first place. But so is Grogu. So are a lot of things, and he damns himself every single day.

A year ago Din thought he had everything he needed in life. He had his armor, his creed, his ship, and his mission to help the kid. Then you came aboard the Razor Crest on that fateful Nevarro evening, fundamentally and forever shifting his perspective on life in much less than a single year. 

Not even three months into the arrangement, Din already knew that his existence had been incredibly lacking and incredibly lonely before you and Grogu. Stagnated in the act of endless bounty hunting and loving no one in the process. His life had been simple and repetitive, and until the two of you he thought that was all he needed to get by. But Din Djarin no longer wants to repeat himself. Din no longer wants to just get by. He wants a wife and a child. He wants a house that stays in one place. 

He wants to cultivate a happy life in said house for the three of you. One without blaster fire and danger around every corner. One with a garden, a fully stocked kitchen, and a real bedroom for Grogu like you’ve talked about. A place where the two of you could raise him peacefully and without much worry. 

When Din fantasizes about a life like this, often he envisions himself without his helmet upon his head. He envisions gazing directly into your eyes after waking up on a lazy, sunny morning in a huge bed. He thinks about what it would be like to see you blush up at him from his lusty facial expressions, or to make eye contact while he sends you over the edge of pleasure. Din imagines how it would feel to make Grogu laugh with silly faces, and for the two of you to truly see the love Din holds for each of you both in his dark eyes. 

Din has lived most of his life as a Mandalorian, but isn’t he simply human first and foremost? What would it be like to live life as one of those for a change? 

But what if you were to dislike what he has to offer? What if you saw his true face and felt as if you no longer wanted him? He can’t imagine that would be true, but there’s that little bit of human insecurity flooding his mind. Just because he thinks himself to be handsome doesn’t necessarily mean that you would agree. 

Lately, when he’s alone in the fresher examining himself, he’s had the same ridiculously human questions bouncing around his exposed head. 

Would you find him as attractive as he hopes he is? Is he foolish for even thinking this way? Surely the love you have for him would surpass any dislikes you may have, right?

The last time someone saw his face, he had been a child. Not a single living thing has seen the face of the man he’s become. He hopes the face of that man is one you could love, and he feels he’s an even better man today than the one who met you a year ago. 

In his heart Din believes that he is a better man thanks to you and Grogu, and not-so deep down he wants the two of you to know that man completely. Face and all. The blasphemy and hypocrisy of this alone should be eating away at him, but his insecurities are doing the job far more than worry over the creed.

If anything, the blasphemous part of him is disappointed that you only saw the back of his head. What if you had seen him completely and everything was just different now whether Din is ready for it to be or not? Would that honestly be so bad? To lay here with his head on a pillow for once? To have his nose buried in your hair? 

A soft moan suddenly escapes your lips as you shift around a little in your sleep, the sound of it both bringing Din back to reality and feeling even more blasphemous than he ever has before. 

Involuntarily, Din’s lips purse and he moves to kiss you as if he has the freedom to do so. When the reality sinks in that he doesn’t, in fact, have the freedom to do so at all, Din’s heart plunges so deeply into his gut that he nearly moans out loud from the sting of it. Hot tears fill his eyes, and his arms tighten around you as he damns himself again for wishing his helmet was nowhere to be seen.

*****

As Grogu peers curiously around the busy streets of the little seaport town Din’s family seems to have found itself in, loud chirping noises of excitement flutter from the child. The child has always had a certain boldness about him, but ever since the agreement was made that he was to remain with Clan Mudhorn, the little boy’s voice has become noticeably louder. It’s almost as if the certainty of his future has given new life to the child.

He reaches for things and squirms around in Din’s grasp, causing a soft chuckle to hiss from the Mandalorian’s modulator.

“Easy, kiddo,” Din says gently to the kid. “We’re gonna see all there is to see. Don’t get too ahead of yourself just yet.”

Din’s been so preoccupied by his son’s squirming that he hadn’t noticed the lascivious look you’ve been throwing his way for the last moment or so. When he looks over to catch you undressing him with your eyes, however, his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline beneath the beskar.

He can’t help but smile, asking, “What’s on your mind, cyar’ika?” 

An embarrassed expression crosses your features the moment you realize you’ve been figured out. With a sheepish grin and a shrug you reply, “Whoops, you caught me. You just look really sexy right now, that’s all.”

“Mm,” Din hums in response, heart straining. He’s momentarily unsure of what else to say as confusion riddles his person. He adores the compliment just as much as he damns it. 

As if his lack of a response makes you feel obligated to explain further, you keep going on about it. “It's the lighting, I think. The sun is at just the right angle, so the way it’s hitting your armor is giving you an almost golden hue. God, you really are gorgeous to me, Din. I hope you know how much I mean that.”

His heart downright stings after that last remark. If only she were saying that about my true face, he thinks. But perhaps it is for the best that you cannot see how saddened he is by what you’ve said. 

“I love you,” is the only thing he feels is appropriate to say, voice cracking as he says it. 

“I love you too.” You smile up at him, seemingly unaware of his emotional state.

That fact alone unsettles him. Surely if you’ve been feeling how fraught he’s been lately you’d tell him, right? Or perhaps this compliment was your way of trying to lift him up because you feel how fraught he’s been?

Either way, you’ve remained oblivious to his feelings the few times this sort of thing has surfaced in recent memory. Perhaps, when it comes to the subject of his face, he’s been unconsciously trying to cloud his emotions from you with some amount of success. If you do sense him at all, you’re not letting on about it. 

Instead of paying Din any mind, you redirect your attention down to Grogu. “And I love you, my little Green Bean,” you say, lightly booping his nose with an index finger. 

For a moment Din feels a strange sort of panic begin to set in, but when you lift up your eyes and meet Din’s through the visor, his heart settles a little. 

Neither of you says much after that, quietly continuing on with the exploration of this new town for a while. The three of you stroll further down the city street towards the public beaches and the closer the party gets to the water, the more each shop seems to stand out as a tourist trap. 

Din’s head is full of inner turmoil for most of the walk, until something unrelated clearly catches your eye and blissful distraction finds his overactive brain. 

“What do you think about getting Grogu some new clothes?” Your voice cuts through the noise in his head. 

Din looks down at the child in his arms, then over at you, puzzled behind the beskar. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, gesturing to a display of expensive looking children’s beachwear in a storefront window as the three of you pass by. “I feel bad that he wears that same tan robe all the time. I get that he’s a baby, but he deserves to pick out some clothes that make him feel like the best version of himself. I think he would enjoy that.”

Din considers this, thinking about the fact that his child does have fifty years, more than you or Din himself, of life under his tiny belt already. Grogu probably does think about things like that, even if he cannot outwardly express it. “I think that’s a great idea, cyar’ika. The next time we have the extra credits for it, let’s take him to a shop like that and ask him what he would like to wear. Perhaps your connection through The Force can aid us in helping him choose a garment.”

You eye Din almost skeptically, which leaves him even more puzzled for a moment before you explain yourself and he understands why. “Anything he wants? Even something you would consider to be feminine? I want him to know that he has that choice if he wants and he’ll be loved either way. That’s important to me as a parent, Din.”

Din stops walking and looks at you, skeptical in his own way beneath his helmet. “Where is that question coming from?”

“It’s just that some people back on Earth-,” you start, but are cut off by Din’s loud scoff.

He gives a disapproving shake of the head, laughing heartily as your jaw drops in surprise. “Your planet is far too concerned with trivial things like that. The mark of a backwards society if you ask me. No, I will not care if he chooses clothing that one would consider to be feminine.”

“Hey!” You smack a beskar free spot on his arm, a playful smile creeping up your lips. “Only I can talk trash about my home world, thank you very much. You better watch yourself, bucko.”

Din can’t help but roll his eyes, laughing more. “Oh, as if you haven’t said so yourself. Every other fact you tell me about Earth is negative.”

You frown then, looking at him seriously. “Yeah… but, still. I’m not backwards when it comes to that. I was trying to say I’m the opposite. Very open to all that stuff. We’ve never really talked about it and I wanted to make sure we are going to raise Grogu on the same page.” 

Din nods, “I understand. And I never implied that you are backwards, love. Simply that Earth has a lot of catching up to do if they ever hope to become a larger part of the universe.”

You shrug, seeming to agree. “I mean, at least I’m bi. Not one hundred percent vanilla.”

“I do not understand what you mean,” Din says, pleased when you go right into an explanation. 

“Bi-sexual. It means that I find both male and females attractive. Sorry if that’s weird for you at all. Have we never talked about this?” You sound worried, and Din feels that familiar old thing from when you first met and you were so nervous about being a bother to him. Another sign of how much you’ve grown in the last year. He hasn’t heard that sort of nervousness in your voice in a long time.

Din simply blinks at you, unsure as to why this information would be uncomfortable for him. “Oh. Well, I suppose you can call me that as well.”

Your eyes widen comically. “Wait a second, what?! When you spoke of your ex or whatever she was to you, I figured that was it.”

Din counters, “You said ‘find attractive', you did not specify that I needed to have had a physical experience for it to count. Have you slept with a woman?”

“This is a wild revelation,” you seem to marvel for a moment. Then you realize he asked you a question with a shake of the head. “And, no. No physical experience for me either. Not a requirement. I’ve kissed a few women in my time but that’s about it.”

“Then why is this information about me so shocking?”

“I guess I just really had you type cast as straight.”

“I do not understand ‘type cast’,” Din chuckles, “or straight.”

“‘Straight’ just means you’re into the old school male/female relationships. Type cast is a phrase from the movie business that means one actor keeps getting cast in the same sorts of roles in every movie they are in. Like always playing the bad guy or something like that. But obviously I used it in the context of what we’re talking about to say I just assumed the straight thing about you. Which clearly I shouldn’t have. I’m impressed.”

“Mm, well I don’t know if I could ever see myself in a relationship with another man, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I can’t see myself in a relationship with anyone other than you.” Din says honestly. 

It’s not lost on Din that his words cause a reaction in you. The flesh on your cheeks turns crimson and you seemingly have to look away from him for a moment to compose yourself. All the while Grogu continues to babble in Din’s arms, and Din wonders how much of this the boy understands. He likes to think that his blatant open mindedness is not lost on Grogu, but hopes sincerely that the sexual connotation of the conversation is most certainly lost on him. 

When you look at him again, the affection in your eyes is unmistakable. “I feel the same way about you. The ship of other people has sailed for me. Unless we ever decide to get really wild one day, but that’s not really on my mind at this point in our lives.”

“Really wild?” He repeats, confused. After the night the two of you just had? He searches your expression for an answer and soon thinks he’s found it. Ah. Do you mean having a group experience? That’s certainly something Din’s heard of, and perhaps felt intrigued by the idea of. 

His eyebrows raise once again, and he hums out a simple, “Mm,” in response. “I believe I understand. Perhaps one day we shall, but that’s not something on my mind either.”

“Mm,” you hum back, smirking at him. “It’s a nice fantasy, though.”

“Indeed,” Din agrees with a smirk of his own, trying desperately not to imagine your face buried between the legs of another woman. Thinking like that on a family outing feels wrong for a number of reasons.

You sigh then, almost dreamily, and Din wonders out loud what’s caused it. “What is it, cyar’ika?”

Gesturing to the next window display, this one full of various beauty products, you remark, “Sometimes I miss feeling like a girl.”

Confused, Din asks for more clarification. “What do you mean? You’re quite feminine in my eyes.”

“I know that,” you agree, “but sometimes I wish I had a reason to wear a pretty dress and doll myself up, you know?”

“Doll yourself up?”

“Do my hair and makeup, wear something pretty, make myself look and feel fancy.”

“Ah, I believe I understand. Do you need a reason?”

You shrug, “No, but life in space makes it hard to justify flimsy clothing made purely for aesthetics. Doesn’t help that I impulsively chopped all my hair off, either. Sure, I know it’s like halfway grown back out at this point, but sometimes I worry that it was a mistake. I go back and forth with thinking that it makes me look less girly than I used to. But that was sort of the point. I’ve never said it to you like this, but part of why I cut my hair on Nar Shaddaa was that I wanted to rebel against what I was told was appropriately feminine my whole life. My family always held me to old fashioned Earth standards of beauty. Even after I moved out I was still terrified to truly be myself. I would look at other women who were not afraid to wear their differences on the outside and I would wish for that sort of courage. Being here with you felt like the perfect opportunity to finally be free, plus I loved the idea of having a look that my family would hate.”

Din takes in this information, nodding along with you as you explain. “I’ve never once found your shorter hair to make you seem less feminine. At times you’ve looked more so. I think it has suited you. Truly.”

“I do miss being able to do more with it. I may keep letting it grow back out. I may not. I guess I can do whatever I want, can’t I?.”

“If that would make you feel good, then I support you. But I fear there is little you can do that would make you less beautiful in my eyes.” Din says sincerely.

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you for saying that. Maybe when we get Grogu some clothes I could find myself a dress or something as well.”

“It is true that I’ve never seen you in classically feminine attire. It would certainly be different.” Din’s chest warms at the thought of it, imagining you in gowns of karlini silk.

You grin up at him. “One day you will, chrome dome. One day you will.” 

*****

Once on the beach your party walks about two miles down the faintly orange shoreline to find a less crowded area where Grogu can play in the creamsicle colored sand away from any onlookers. You’re so far away from the rest of the public area that you can’t see or hear anyone anymore, having taken the natural curve in the beach around what is essentially a corner of rocks and odd looking palm trees. 

You can’t help but grin, looking over at Din as he sits the child down while he surveys the group’s surroundings. This is the first time you’ve been to a proper beach in years, and that was just a crappy boardwalk on the Atlantic. This beach is pretty darn close to the more tropical ones on Earth, aside from the small cosmetic differences in environment. Places you longed for but were too scared to travel to by yourself, and never had the right person in your life to be your travel partner. Gratefulness for this opportunity washes over you in this moment. 

“Any sign of your tribe yet?” You ask your cosmic companion gently. He’s been a little weird about this whole thing, and his emotions feel all over the place. It’s been nearly impossible to get a read on him since the tribe’s beacon first appeared, save for when he was inside you the night before and the tribe was clearly the furthest thing from his mind.    

Din shakes his silver head, bright sunlight bouncing off it in certain places. “I didn’t see anything to indicate their whereabouts in town, but I can’t imagine they are far off. They usually keep somewhat close to towns or cities for the resources, but far enough away to stay out of trouble. Let Grogu play for a while, then we will keep looking.” 

So play you do. You teach Grogu the age-old art of making sandcastles as best you can without any equipment. Then you bury him waist deep, which you regret the moment you realize the bottom half of him is covered in sand as a result. You carry him over to the cool teal waters to rinse him off a little, and a gorgeous shiny opal shell catches your eye as the foamy liquid ebbs and flows over it. 

Looking down at Grogu, you get the urge to explain a little more of your culture to him. “On my home world it was always a tradition to pick one shell from the beach to take home. Something to remember the place where your heart felt full of wonder. I think we should take this one home, what do you say?” 

Carefully, you pluck the spiraled thing from the sand, only to realize that the shell is much bigger and heavier than you’d anticipated. After a moment the mystery of its weight is revealed when a palm sized mustard yellow hermit-crab-like creature falls from the shell’s hole and lands on the sand with a tiny thump. The thing looks up at you with irritation in his beady little eye stalks, and you swear it even shakes a claw at you in anger before it burrows down into the grains of sand and disappears from view entirely. 

“Whoops, sorry little fella,” you laugh, eyebrows jumping up in surprise. 

Grogu watches the creature vanish, and just as soon as the last orange grains settle back into place the child’s big eyes are swooping up to meet yours with an open mouthed expression, ears pointed downward. You feel a little mixture of astonishment, worry, and amusement flowing from him. Only a taste but enough for you to name each of the feelings with some certainty. 

With a shrug and a soft giggle, your response to Grogu is one you hope comes off both like it’s not a big deal and that he is right for taking the hermit crab’s loss of a shelter seriously. And, that sometimes these things can be funny as long as we understand when the line is too far. Odds are that crab-thing will find a new shell to live in before the day is through. In the off chance you’re wrong and he just became some bigger creature’s food, then hopefully the circle of life can be enough to ease any guilt over the small animal’s fate.

Sending a smile his way, you reassure your child as best you can. “I guess that’s a good lesson for you, Grogu. Always check these things for animals first. If I had looked inside I would have seen him. We don’t wanna uproot too many critters from their homes just because we think a shell is pretty. That doesn’t always mean it’s ours to take, but I think it’s okay if we take this one. That crab-thing should be okay. We compromised his security so I don’t think he would want this one back. Animals have natural instincts to keep themselves safe just like we do. If I had to guess, he’ll already have a new shell by nightfall. And it’s okay to laugh a little bit when something you don’t expect happens, we just want to make sure we’re still treating our mistakes with respect. If I had really hurt the crab, even by accident, it wouldn’t have been very funny. I hope all of this makes sense.”

A pang of something sad flows through your being then. You’re not quite sure if it’s coming from you, one of the boys, or all three of you. But the realization hits you that all three of you are here on this beach together because each of you had been uprooted from your homes at one time or another. Not one of you has had a secure home since losing your first. Grogu, long before you and Din were even born, in a war you could never begin to understand. Din, when his home world was destroyed. And you, when your ex-grandmother used a legal loophole to steal your beloved house. 

Sure, the Razor Crest is the next best thing. But you’re suddenly wishing for a real home on a plot of land you can call your own. Somewhere that stays in one place, where one can cultivate their garden of life the way it’s intended to be nurtured.

A question works its way up your throat as you hand the boy the shell, and suddenly you find yourself asking your son out loud, “How would you like it if we had a real house one day, buddy? Kind of like this shell, but big enough for you, me, your dad, and Jupiter? You could have your own room one day, full of toys and anything else you may want.”

Grogu looks up at you with wonderment in his big eyes, and you can tell the question fills him with a distinct kind of warmth you don’t feel from him too often. Perhaps having a real home is just as important to the boy as it is to you. This child hasn’t had a stable home in decades, so it would make sense. How many of his fifty years have been spent on the run? How long has it been since his birth parents first gave him to the Jedi? Tears fill your eyes at the thought of it, knowing in your soul you could never give Grogu up now that he’s yours. No matter what greater good it may serve.

“I would like it,” Din says softly from right behind you. It startles you enough to make you jump.

Squinting up at him through the sun, you bring a hand to your forehead and throw him a half hearted shrug. “I guess I shouldn’t be asking him things like that when I haven’t even talked to you about it. I don’t mean anytime soon. But one day we will be too old to live in space twenty four seven. And Grogu deserves a real childhood. With a bedroom, school, and friends.”

Din squats down to be at level with you, nodding his silver head as it glints in the harsh light. “I think on this subject you and I are in agreement. I’ve thought about this quite a bit myself. A home that stays in one place certainly sounds appealing these days. I’ve lived in space for a long time. Without bounty hunting or a mission to keep me steady, the lifestyle of constant travel is beginning to make less and less sense to me."

“Well I don’t mean to put any undue pressure on you. I have no idea how we would make that work. It’s not like either of us has a real job right now and I know we’re running out of money.”

“Work is easy enough to find. Perhaps I could take Greef up on filling Cara’s position if it hasn't already been filled. He’s always telling us we have a home on Nevarro if we want it.”

“I could work at the school again,” you offer hopefully. 

Din nods, humming, “Mm. And Grogu could go with you. He could get to live the life of a real child once and for all.”

“I think he needs that, Din. And I think you and I need to enjoy our time with him. We all need rest.”

“We will, cyar’ika. We will find our place in this galaxy and we will build a life there. But until then, I love the life we have on our ship.”

“I do too. I love our Space R-,” suddenly your words morph into a hideous shriek, “VEEEEEEEEEE! DIIIIIIN!”

*****

Din screams your name and watches in stunned horror as your body gets dragged through the sand and into the turquoise waters faster than he can blink. Beside him Grogu begins to cry, and just as Din is about to get to his feet he notices a blue-gray tentacle inches away from snatching the child as well. 

“Grogu!” Din shouts, launching himself forward and grabbing the boy just in the nick of time. He rolls across the sand with the child in his arms, and the tentacle angrily rises from the water, pointing itself at Din almost accusingly. Din scrambles to fire a blaster from where he lay sprawled and the offending appendage retracts under the cool surface. 

A large creature covered in eyes and teeth begins to rise up out of the deeper waters several yards away, along with it the tentacle holding you around the waist. Din hauls himself to his feet as he hears you sputter and cough, screaming for help. 

“Oh, thank maker she’s alive,” Din says to himself, moving quickly to sit Grogu on a far away rock and ready himself for battle with this thing to get you back. 

Only, by the time he’s turning around with weapons raised, it would appear that a small group of Mandalorians are already beating him to it. 

*****

You only half-register the feeling of the tentacle wrapping itself around your ankle, and by the time you fully understand what is happening to you, it’s too late. You’ve got a face full of sand and you’re already starting to drown as the thing pulls you fully into the water. It begins snaking itself up and around your waist. The thing then squeezes you so hard that any air you’d managed to hold onto gets ripped violently from your lungs. You start to fade, but then suddenly it’s yanking you above the surface and you can breathe again, spitting and sputtering in terror.

You see Din and Grogu several yards away on the beach, and then the thing is yanking your body under the water once more.

Everything that happens in the next few minutes is a blur of being ping ponged in and out of the water. Moments of blissful silence but zero air, to pockets of air you can barely catch a taste of and the sounds of chaotic violence accosting your ears.

Then you’re under the water for a long time. Long enough that you’re really starting to get scared in a way you weren’t before. Long enough for your vision to fade.

But something changes just before you begin to pass out. The grip of the tentacle around your waist loosens, and a strong pair of human arms are there to replace it in an instant.

Then there’s air. Beautiful, glorious air which you suck in as hard as possible once you’ve coughed up the salty water in your throat. The darkness at the edges of your vision is replaced with blinding light. You feel your body floating midair until it’s suddenly being placed on the uneven sandy ground.

Above you, a Mandalorian helmet hovers in the sun.

“Din, thank God,” you murmur, reaching for him.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” a female voice responds. The accent sounds almost British. 

Shock rocks your system as your eyes fully adjust to the light and you realize that the helmet above you is one painted a bronzy gold, with a tiara of spikes decorating its forehead. 

Looking around, you sit up in the sand to see that you are surrounded by five Mandalorians of various shapes and sizes.

“Cyar’ika?” Din’s voice is behind you, sounding scared shitless and relieved all at once.

Relief floods your own system as you turn to see your love and your child, sighing heavily as you lay all the way back down in the sand. A laugh bubbles up your throat, and though you are surrounded by strangers you say what you're thinking regardless. If nothing else, just so that Grogu knows you're okay. The fear coming from the boy is palpable inside your brain, and even in this state easing his worry is the only worry of your own.

“Never a dull moment to be had in this galaxy, huh boys?”

*****

“Din Djarin has returned to us,” says the female Mandalorian with spikes upon her beskar clad head. She’s the one who saved you, and who you rightly guessed to be the Armorer shortly after. The room is quiet as she announces your cosmic companion to the Mandalorians of varying ages scattered around the room. Some stand, some sit. Some are alone and some are clearly with a partner or family. All of them have distinctly different armor, giving a wide variety of looks in a room full of beskar faces. Most of which are pointed in your direction.

The Armorer's voice projects inside of the vast cave you now find yourself in, echoing slightly whenever she pauses. You and your family are in what you would consider to be the main room in a large network of clay caves. There’s an orange glow to the space from the various fires and torches being used for light, enhancing the natural color of the walls. Its entrance turned out to be only a few miles from the beach where you nearly became fish food, at the base of a deadly looking cliff that most of the locals actively avoid. 

The gaze of the woman’s visor falls upon you, looking you up and down. “And he has brought an outsider into our midst, as we see,” she says skeptically in your direction before addressing Din again. “You do know we will have to relocate again now that she has seen us, don’t you? Or have you spent so much time away that you have forgotten our ways?” 

You’re still half soaked, battered, and very much traumatized after having nearly been drowned and eaten by some sort of nasty fucking space-kraken not even forty-five minutes ago. But you’re alive, your son is in your arms, and the man you love is by your side. Right now? You’re truly thankful to be alive with these two people. 

You could give or take the room of two and a half dozen Mandalorians all glaring daggers at you under their helmets, though. You don’t need a connection to The Force to know that much is true. For the first time in the year you’ve known Din, you almost wish for a helmet of your own. Having your face be exposed in front of these people is wildly uncomfortable. It’s a far cry from your experience with Bo and her crew, and they’d made you uncomfortable for a whole different slew of reasons.

Din steps forward, bowing respectfully. He tells the Armorer your name. “She is my companion. She does not wish to take the creed at this time, but I have been teaching her the ways of our people. Please allow her entry as one of my own. She will keep this place a secret just as I have taught her. I do not bring an outsider with me lightly.”

“But she is not your riduur?” The Armorer interrogates. Your eyebrows raise at that, knowing she just used the word for spouse. Mando’a doesn’t have separate words for husband and wife. It’s all the same word, because Mandalorians see themselves as equal partners in a marriage. 

“No, not presently,” Din says after a quick glance at you. He’s aware that you know the word’s definition. It was in a recent ‘test’ as he likes to call them. You squint at him briefly, hoping he gets a hint of the ‘we’re going to talk about this later’ behind your eyes as you will him to feel it.

The Armorer presses on, “Are there plans to take the vow of riduurok?” 

The vow of marriage. Another word you know. Din glances at you again, and you reach over to squeeze his gloved hand.

Din squeezes your fingers back as he says, “She is the one I spoke of when you and I met on Nevarro.”

“You told her about me?” You ask, forgetting yourself as a smile creeps up your lips.

The intimidating female Mandalorian again directs her attention to you briefly. “Indeed he did. From how he spoke of you, I would think the ritual would have been performed by now.” Her head snaps back to Din. “And what of the child in her arms? Are you still on your quest?”

Your cosmic companion shakes his head, and Grogu coos. 

“I am not,” Din explains, “We completed my quest. I found a Jedi on the forest planet of Corvus named Ahsoka Tano. She and Grogu communicated using The Force, and Grogu has chosen to stay with us and learn the ways of our people. The Jedi are not his kin anymore. He has chosen us to be his parents.”

“Grogu?” The Armorer asks, voice lighter than it has been as she says it in a questioning tone. The baby coos at the sound of his name being said by a stranger, wiggling in your grasp.

“That is his name,” Din says, his voice sounding the slightest bit defensive. 

The woman nods. “If Grogu has chosen to remain with you, have you begun his teachings as well?”

Din shakes his head. “Yes, but he is clearly too young to take the creed.”

After a moment of consideration, the Armorer agrees. “Then he will remain your ward until you see fit to adopt him as your own.”

“How do we adopt him?” You ask, feeling like a novice as soon as you say it. 

“You must perform the ritual, of course,” Paz Vizsla, as Din pointed out to you, says this from his vantage point to the right. Pointedly, the man places a gloved hand on the left shoulder of a young boy with chin length brown hair and a bit of a sneer on his young face. Not sure what else to think, you assume from context clues that the boy must be Paz's own adopted son. 

You hadn’t noticed another human face in the crowd until now, and find yourself wondering idly if the boy had been hiding behind Paz. The child, helmet-less, smirks at you as if you’re the dumbest person he’s ever seen. It’s all you can do not to glare in return. 

Din sounds rather fed up with all of this questioning, stepping forward as he, in your opinion, speaks from his chest. “Armorer, please. I am aware of the severity of my actions. I know that it was a risk to bring her and the child here. But she is ner cyare. She and the child both. They mean more to me than you can know, and though I have not made it official, I consider them both to be a part of my clan. These two are ner aliit. Clan Mudhorn is a clan of three, rituals or not. We only just completed the mission recently, and we haven’t stopped our travels much since. I have not had the proper respite to clear my head or consider what our next steps will be. The rituals should be performed with clarity and mindfulness, should they not?”

Your heart nearly leaps from his chest at hearing him speak about you in such a way, and about Grogu. In front of his entire tribe, no less. In front of an elder he respects the opinion of. Reaching over, you squeeze his hand again and kiss Grogu on the back of the head. Lips tugging upward, a satisfied grin spreads across your face.

The Armorer stays silent for a while, looking at the three of you as she considers this information. After what feels like twenty minutes, she finally nods in the affirmative. Clearly she liked Din’s answer. 

“Let it be said, the child Grogu and the woman,” she says your name, “are members of Clan Mudhorn. They are Din Djarin’s aliit. We will treat them as such, in return they will keep our home here a secret. When it is time, their connection will be written in song. This is The Way.”

Every single Mando in the room, including Din, repeats almost in unison, “This is The Way!”

You lamely try to get it out as they say it, but the phrase dies awkwardly on your tongue. It felt right when you said it to Din the night before Grogu officially became yours. Saying it now in this room full of Din’s militant brethren makes you feel like a poser and a half. 

People begin to disperse after that. Din sighs deeply with irritation beside you, and before you even notice his presence walking up, you know a sigh like that can only be reserved for someone like Paz Vizsla.

“Djarin,” Paz says with a nod.

“Vizsla,” Din says, nodding in return. 

The bigger man gestures to the boy at his side. The kid seems to be around twelve if you had to guess. “This is my son, Ragnar. He joined my clan recently, after we saved him and a small group of children from an abandoned space station before we settled here. Tomorrow he will take the creed. This planet was home to a well known underground beskar dealer. I retrieved the beskar for his helmet myself.” Paz finishes this last part with obvious pride. 

“Congratulations, young one,” Din says respectfully to the child. Then to Paz, “What of the other foundlings?”

“We have them set up in a nursery of sorts. Some of them are too young to take the creed, much like yours. Some do not know if this is the path they wish to take. None of the adults have stepped forward to take any of them on yet besides me.” Paz says this last part almost judgmentally, and you realize that most of the things that come out of his mouth must sound judgmental. No wonder Din has issues with this guy. He comes on strong right from the get go. 

“I’m the oldest,” Ragnar interjects, clearly needing some attention. It’s quickly apparent how much the kid’s trauma affects him, and though he seems like a bit of a brat your heart goes out to him. “When the adults all died I was our leader. I kept us alive until my new dad saved us. That’s why I’m gonna take the creed and become a real Mandalorian like him. I learned how important it is to take care of one’s own. Loyalty and solidarity are The Way.”

“That’s very noble of you,” you say to the child, noticing how he and Grogu seem to be preoccupied with each other. “Would you like to meet my son? This is Grogu. He joined our clan recently too. So did I, I suppose. He loves to play if you’re looking for a new friend. And I’m sure he’d love to meet the other kids too.” You tell Ragnar, heart swelling at how confident you sound and feel calling Grogu your son to this boy.

“Hi, Grogu,” Ragnar says, tentatively reaching a finger up to one of Grogu’s outstretched hands. 

Grogu coos and chirps in response. For a moment you see the stony resolve slip away and Ragnar just looks like a normal kid to you. It makes you sad, and it makes you wonder how similar this boy is to how Din was when he was a child. Din’s said himself that he was an angry kid after his parents died. It sounds like this boy Ragnar not only had to witness his parents die but was immediately thrust into a position of responsibility he never asked to be in right after.

“What happened to the adults on your space station?” You ask tentatively.

Paz answers this, “A virus. It wiped out the entire adult population. Children who have not yet progressed into their teens are immune, and carry the antibodies in their blood.”

“You are a brave one, Ragnar,” Din says softly beside you.

A chill runs up your spine at that. If you’re not mistaken that sounds like the plot to an actual horror movie you saw at the theater when you were a teen yourself. This child lived through that? Okay maybe he gets a bit of a pass for being a brat. But his dad has no excuse as far as you know. 

“I see the numbers have regrown since Nevarro,” Din says, obviously trying to make idle conversation while he has to, but trying to gear towards ending it. 

“Grown enough, yes,” Paz agrees. “We found more of our kind scattered in hiding than we thought we would.” Then he looks right at you and says, “but we always need more.” 

Ugh. Alright, then. Maybe Paz is just not worth the time of day. The energy he gives off is fairly cultish, and you really don’t want Bo-Katan to be right about that.

When the two of them go off to their respective places, you turn to Din with a question flowing from your lips, “Is the Mandalorian who adopted you here?”

Din’s head whips to you sharply, his tone sharp as well, “What?”

“Is that not how it works? I guess I just assumed that any Mandalorian who saves a child becomes their parent. Like you with Grogu or Paz with Ragnar. You’ve mentioned having a mentor, but nothing else about him really.”

“He never adopted me,” Din replies evenly. His emotions flare within him, several all at once. Anger, hurt, betrayal, guilt, confusion. 

Shit. 

“Oh, crap. Din, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring up something painful. We’ve never had a conversation about this and now’s definitely not the time.” Your stomach sinks as the words leave your lips. You’ve never felt this specific pain from him before. 

His voice is stony, “It’s fine. He left our tribe a long time ago. I didn’t know him for more than a handful of years.”

“But, still. I shouldn’t have assumed. That was wrong of me.” You reach for him, and he pulls his arm away, turning to walk out the way your party came in. 

Coldness radiates from him. “Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s go get the Crest.”

Oh, but you most certainly will worry about it. What the fuck did you just do? What can of worms was meant to be left alone? 

*****

The Razor Crest gets relocated to a secluded spot close to the Tribe’s caves, and it’s decided that Din’s clan may remain for as long as is needed. It’s after this that Din and his family return from the ship with the beskar spear gifted by Ahsoka Tano. Din takes it straight to the Armorer’s workshop while you and Grogu go off with Ragnar to find the group of foundlings from the space station.

“What is this?” The Armorer asks, voice laced with disapproval as she looks at the weapon. 

Din holds the spear out to her with two hands, head bowed slightly. “It was the gift of a Jedi. The one who helped us with Grogu. It can block a lightsaber. It could prove useful.”

The Mandalorian elder clicks her tongue. “It can also pierce beskar armor. Its mere existence puts Mandalorians at risk. Mandalorian steel is meant for armor, not weapons.”

Din holds the spear out to her even more. “Then forge it into armor, please.”

The Armorer takes it from him, moving to place the tip of it on the great flames of her forge. The beskar begins to glow red within moments. Din takes a seat nearby, feeling the urge to press his most trusted elder about some of the information he’s learned over the last few months.

“Have you ever heard of Bo-Katan Kryze?” Din asks, curious as to how this is going to go.

The Armorer turns to him, nodding. “Bo-Katan is a cautionary tale. She once laid claim to rule Mandalore based purely on blood and a weapon known as the darksaber. But it was gifted to her and not won by Creed as it was supposed to be. Bo-Katan Kryze was born of a mighty house, but they lost sight of The Way. Her rule ended in tragedy. They lost their way, and we lost our world. Had our sect not been cloistered on the moon of Concordia, we would have not survived the Great Purge. Those born of Mandalore strayed away from the path. Eventually, the Imperial interlopers destroyed all that we knew and loved in the Night of a Thousand Tears. Only those that walked the way escaped the curse prophesied in the Creed. Though our numbers were scattered to the winds, our adherence to The Way has preserved our legacy for the generations until we may someday return to our home world.”

Din takes a deep breath before telling her of his discovery, nervous to bring up such a subject but desperate for answers. “I met her on my travels. She helped me to secure Grogu’s safety from the Empire and find the Jedi who gave me that spear.”

“And what did you learn?”

“Her people show their faces. At first I did not want to trust her because of this, and I’m not entirely sure that I fully do, but she fought alongside me with honor. She is now leading a crusade to reclaim our home world, and she believes that uniting all the clans regardless of their beliefs is the only way to truly make that happen.”

“A fool’s errand,” The Armorer retorts, shaking her bronze head as she pushes the spear further into the flames. “They do not walk The Way. Coexistence is impossible.”

“But does that make them any less Mandalorian than we are? They speak the same language. They wear the same armor. I am starting to wonder why there has to be only one Way. Perhaps coexistence is the way to preserve the future of our people. This lifestyle of shadows and caves cannot be sustainable forever.”

“Something has changed in you, Din Djarin,” she declares, not looking up from her work. Then she asks him the question he’s been both expecting and dreading this entire time. The question which makes his heart both speed up and sink to his feet all at once. “Has your woman seen your face? Have you removed your helmet for her?”

“She has not seen my face,” Din replies evenly, hoping to any deity listening that she will leave it at that.

She does not. Repeating slowly, “Have you removed your helmet for her?”

Fuck, he thinks, using the term like you do in his head. You can do this. It's one tiny syllable. Din licks his suddenly dry lips, forcing himself to utter a soft, “No.”

The Armorer doesn’t respond at first. She merely melts down the rest of the spear, leaving Din to sit there in a pool of his own sweat for a few moments. The longest few moments of his life, practically.

Then she turns to him and his breath hitches in his throat. They stare at each other for what feels like a full minute, and then she casually asks him, “What shall I forge for you, Din Djarin?”

Din feels like the mudhorn sitting on his chest just got lifted midair by his Force-wielding son, trying desperately not to be too loud as he exhales with relief. 

Should he hate himself for lying to the Armorer? Probably. Does he? Not really. The bond Din has with you means more to him than anything else at this point. If he has to take what the two of you do in private with a cloth over your eyes to his grave then so be it. 

“Not for me,” Din finally replies. “Something for a foundling.”

“This is the way,” she responds.

“For a specific foundling. Grogu.” Din adds, just in case it wasn’t clear that he was referring to his foundling. “And if there is enough left after that, I have another request.”

*****

While Din conducts his business with the Armorer, Ragnar and Paz show you to the room where the orphans from the space station are being watched over. It's not far down the corridors from where that huge meeting took place earlier, and like every part of the caves it's well lit with torches in every wall.

Inside the room are five makeshift bunks, one of which Ragnar proudly announces as his own. He then announces you and Grogu to the four other children playing in the open area.

Upon entry, a female Mandalorian with intense armor painted in a black and red design looks up from playing with the youngest child, and you instantly feel skepticism dripping from the woman's energy.

"Paz," she greets Ragnar's father with a single nod. Then her head shifts so that her visor is pointed at you. "And Djarin's woman," her thickly accented voice is laced with animosity. She vaguely sounds eastern European, while not at the same time.

"I have a name, thank you," you bite back, stating as much. "What's yours?"

The woman shrugs you off, and Paz chuckles beside you. "Teckla is one of the few who have volunteered to help with the children until they are taken on for adoption or apprenticeship."

"The pleasure all is mine, I'm sure," you mutter, pleased with yourself as you whip out one of your favorite Earth phrases. Never mind that it's lost on these moody Mandos.

Grogu squirms in your grasp, unperturbed by the adults as he chirps and grabs air.

"Ragnar, can Grogu please meet your friends?" You ask the brown haired boy, ignoring the other two grown ups.

You sit Grogu down on the rough ground, watching as he pads forward towards the group of kids.

There are five of them all together including Ragnar. The one playing with Teckla seems to be the youngest at around four or five, a blonde girl with pale skin and big sad eyes holding a stiffed bantha. Two of the kids are identical twins a few years older than the first girl, with dark skin and two very different haircuts to help tell them apart. The final child is not human.

A child about the same height as Ragnar steps forward, holding up a green hand to wave down at Grogu. You're intrigued to note that the tips of his fingers appear to be suction cups. This child is of a species you have yet to encounter until now, being both obviously humanoid and very unique all the same. His skin is comprised of greenish-blue scales, with pointed fin-like ears and a thin ridge of spines leading up the back of his head to where two antenna protrude from his forehead. His dark eyes are much larger than a human's and in lieu of a nose the boy has a snout.

"This is Klo, my best friend," Ragnar introduces the alien boy proudly.

"Nice to meet you," Klo says politely with a nod.

"Who's that?!" The little girl asks loudly, pointing right at Grogu.

"This is Grogu," you say, moving forward to squat down behind your boy. "My son."

"He doesn't look like you," she says, mouth scrunching to one side in thought as her nose wrinkles.

With a soft chuckle, you explain, "That's because he's a different species than me, but he's still my son regardless. What's your name?"

"Nayea," she says, smiling as she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Can Grogu play with me?"

"Sure, as long as you ask him nicely and say please."

The twin with the long hair tied into an intricate braid moves forward to get a good look at Grogu, announcing them-self to be Shari, and their twin sibling with a cropped haircut as Nix. You notice that the child never uses male or female pronouns to describe them-self or their sibling, and both seem to be in androgynous dress.

Pocketing this information for the future, you allow the children to become aquatinted with your own child by standing back up to join Paz where he has been quietly observing. Teckla stands to join the adults as well, coming to your side with her arms crossed in a standoffish stance.

"Will these children really all become Mandalorians?" You ask, voice lowered so that the kids themselves cannot hear you.

"Some, probably not the entire group," Teckla says confidently.

"What if no one takes them on?"

"Then one of us must take on the responsibility of returning them to their own kind," Paz answers.

"Like Din and Grogu," you murmur, intrigued by the notion of this happening to orphaned children all across the galaxy.

"Most children choose to stay once they form a bond with one of us," Teckla adds, her black helmet with red accents giving her an intimidating presence as she explains their culture to you as if you're dumb.

"Like Din and Grogu," you repeat as if she's the dumb one, rolling your eyes slightly. "Are you planning to take one on?"

She nods, "Nayea has become very attached to me. She's too young to truly begin her training, though. A couple who recently took the vow of riduurok will likely take on the twins. Klo has not decided if he wishes to stay or return to his home world of Rodia."

"It's so sad that so many young ones had to experience this loss at such a young age," you muse, lips twitching from a sad frown to a grin as Nayea makes Grogu laugh. "But how fortunate that they get a chance for a new life here."

"This is The Way," both Paz and Teckla say in unison.

*****

The following day you find yourself standing in the mid-morning sun on the rocky beach just outside of the covert's caves with the entire group gathered once again. This time even the children from the space station are in attendance with that woman Teckla keeping them all from acting up.

Everyone is gathered round the Armorer as she addresses her tribe with the same vigor she used the day before.

"We gather here today to witness Ragnar Vizsla take the creed. Step forward, child."

The crowd reminds quiet as the boy steps forward, squinting in the harsh sun up at the Armorer.

"Repeat after me," The Armorer commands in her accented, booming voice, "I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors..."

"I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors..."

"That I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor..."

"That I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor..."

"And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart."

"And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart."

The Armorer slips the child's new helmet, a similar blue color to that of his father's, upon his small head. You hear that same hiss you hear from Din's sometimes as she secures it on the child's head and both of them say in unison, "This is the Way."

"This is the Way!" The crowd repeats.

That's that. The kid can never take that thing off again. What a wild thing to really realize, and to witness. Is this what it had been like for your cosmic companion all those years ago?

Next to you, you note that Din either mumbled the Mandalorian catch phrase so quietly that you could not hear him, or he did not say it at all. Something is going on with him and you're determined to get to the bottom of it, but you're starting to think that here with the tribe is a terrible place to do so.

After a moment of respectful silence, you whisper over to him, "That's it?"

"Not entirely," Din says, nodding forward to redirect your attention.

"Now you must choose your first challenger," the Mandalorian elder tells the boy.

Ragnar's visor scans the beach, until he lands directly on you. Or rather, the child in your arms. Oh hell no, this kid is not about to choose Grogu.

Thankfully, his attention moves to another child wearing a green helmet standing somewhere behind you. "Harak," Ragnar announces.

And then you have to awkwardly stand there watching two adolescents spar on the sand, waiting patiently until Ragnar overpowers Harak and shoots him three times in the belly with the Mandalorian vambrace equivalent to a paintball gun.

Paz cheers for his boy, congratulating him and hoisting him up on one of his huge shoulders. It's then that you assume you're good to disperse, and it's then that you are very wrong.

The Armorer calls your name and asks you to step forward. "Bring the child with you," she demands.

Din follows close behind as you tentatively approach the intimidating woman. Next to her booted feet in the orange sand lay two spears and a small, lidded crate. She squats down to lift the lid, visor looking at you all the while.

"Din Djarin claims that he has been teaching the two of you our ways. I would like to put this to the test. Grogu will spar with Ragnar." The elder announces coolly.

She pulls out a tiny little version of that same wrist shooter Ragnar used against his opponent, holding it out to Din.

Din takes the weapon and nods to you, strapping the mini vambrace onto Grogu's little arm while you hold him. "Don't worry, buddy. You'll be fine. You know what you're doing. I've seen what you can do, now it's time to show them."

"I don't think he does know what he's doing, Din. Don't you think he's too little for this?" You gently argue with a forced smile, aware of the fact that strangers are watching you.

"I do think he's a bit young, but we both know how capable he is," Din pushes back. Then he whispers, "Trust me, cyar'ika. Please." The genuineness to his tone is hard to ignore, so you cave rather quickly after that.

"I don't know what any of this is about, but I'll trust you," you whisper back with a shake of the head.

Watching Grogu tentatively approach Ragnar with his arm raised, you listen as the Armorer explains the rules of this challenge. The first to land three hits to his opponent wins. Din squats down to reassure the child once more with a pat on the head, and you find yourself shaking your own once more in disbelief.

Ragnar lands the first two hits, which instantly annoys you because now Grogu's robe will have to be washed, but it upsets you even more when your son looks back at you as if he wants to cry. Oh hell no. We're not doing that. Soccer mom is coming out.

A voice you're not use to using finds its way out of you, waving your arms and shouting supportively, "Come on, Grogu! You got this, buddy! Dad's right, show these Mandos what you're made of! Woo-hoo!"

That's when a feeling of courage flutters through The Force, and you watch with delight as your son dodges Ragnar's next attack by flipping over the shot, then quickly raising his arm to rapid fire three shots into the older boy's chest.

"Hell yeah, Grogu!" you and Din shout together triumphantly.

Waves of pride flow through Grogu's being in The Force, but off to the side you feel a mix of embarrassment and shame from the tribe's newest member. Whoops. This was probably not how Ragnar envisioned his special day would go.

You look over to see the child burry his helmeted face in his adoptive father's stomach, and you realize in this moment how interesting it is to be a parent. To feel such pride for your son's achievement, but for that achievement to come at the cost of another child's feelings. The notion of it pulls at your heart.

"Grogu has proven his skill. He is well on track to apprenticeship. Now," the Armorer says your name, causing your head to whip up and mouth to drop open in surprise as she announces, "you shall spar with Teckla."

"What?" you hiss, grabbing for Din's shoulder as you whisper fiercely, "What the fuck, Din?"

"You're great at sparring, cyar'ika," Din replies simply.

"With you, not with a scary stranger!"

"Think of this as an opportunity to make yourself proud. Don't worry about me or the others. Prove to yourself that you're as strong as I've always known you are. Remember your warrior's heart. You're ner verd too, you know." Din's voice is so sincere, and the love flowing from him feels like a calming weighted blanket wrapping itself around your energy in The Force.

How can you say no to that?

"Damn you, Djarin. That was a good speech," you mutter, conceding to your fate.

"I know it was," your love replies, voice cheeky as he moves to bump his forehead into yours.

You step forward, smiling down at Grogu as you pass by him even though inside you're freaking out. Teckla, who seems to hate your guts simply for showing your face, is already standing beside the armorer with her arms crossed over her beskar chest plate. From her stance you like to think she's raising an expectant eyebrow or wielding a crazed grin under her black helmet.

As you approach, the Armorer kneels down to retrieve the spears from the sand. She hands one to each of you as she stands.

"The first one to get their opponent to yield wins," she states simply, backing up. "You may begin."

Before you can really register what's going on or think about getting ready, Teckla is charging you with her spear raised and a modulated war cry in her throat.

"Fuck," you blurt, squatting low to dodge her attack. You've only practiced with a staff one or two times at best and that was months ago training with Cara on Nevarro. Din doesn't use one in his own daily life and the razor crest is just too cramped for it. Any other weapon would have been preferable to this long obstructive thing in your hands.

"The best thing a Mandalorian can do in the face of battle is be adaptable," Din's voice rings through your mind just as Teckla whips around to send another swiping attack your way. You roll across the sand, moving back up into a squat as you face her with the pointed end of your spear raised in warning.

Okay, be adaptable, you think. And then you and Teckla are clashing weapons head on. The scrapes and clanks create a strange beat with the waves crashing in the background of it all. She swipes and you dodge. You jab forward and she jumps back.

"Come on, outsider," the woman taunts, accent thick. "This really the best you got? That kid of yours had better moves than this. Djarin," she calls to Din, "you can't teach worth shit!"

Din and Grogu watch from the sidelines, and you know that they heard that. You know that this woman is trying to make you look foolish in front of your family. You know that this woman is trying to make you feel small. Well guess what? You left every single person who could make you feel small back on Earth, and this person has no power over you. Anger flares within you, and while she takes a moment to laugh at her own insult you take a powerful step to launch yourself forward.

You're not sure where this move even comes from, but suddenly you're stabbing the spear hard into the sand, using the leverage it to lift your legs and vault yourself forward towards your opponent. With enough momentum you manage to gain some air, both of your boots making contact hard with the beskar chest plate protecting her heart.

Teckla goes flying backwards with a startled cry, and within seconds you're kneeling on her gut with one knee. The tip of your spear points at her exposed throat just below the base of her helmet.

Between panting breaths you defiantly ask, "Do you yield?"

Teckla doesn't answer at first, hands coming to grip your spear as if she will fight back. You press harder into both her stomach and her neck.

"I said, do you yield?!" You repeat.

"I yield!" Teckla finally submits, practically throwing you off of herself once you let up some.

It's quiet for a long moment, and at first you think that you're about to be shunned publicly. Then suddenly the crowd of Mandalorians all cheer triumphantly and your worries subside.

"Great job, cyar'ika!" Din says proudly, coming up to you with Grogu in his arms. "Tell your mom she did a good job, buddy."

Grogu coos at you, and you know that he's telling you as much in his own way.

Your heart swells with pride for yourself, and for your family. "Thank you, boys."

"Impressive," the Armorer says. "I would like to see you and Grogu in my forge."

*****

When you take a seat before the Armorer and her great flaming forge, you realize why sitting in her presence feels so important to Din and his people. Sitting in her forge feels a bit like what you assume sitting in a confessional both must feel like. To have one on one time with the most revered elder, to feel as if whatever this person is about to say it must be important in the grand scheme of your own life.

Din is waiting for you somewhere in the common area of the caves, having stated that this experience is one he feels you and Grogu should experience on your own. The child in question is seated beside you, with a tiny hand resting on your thigh. He seems in awe of everything happening, the light from the forge's flames dancing in his big dark eyes.

When the Armorer turns to face you both, she is holding up what looks like a small t-shirt made of chain mail. She presents the shirt to Grogu with a bow of the head.

"Din Djarin requested that I forge this garment of protection for you, Grogu. The steel from Ahsoka Tano's beskar spear aided in it's creation." She lays the garment in front of the boy, and then turns back to her forge once more. She picks up a small silver disc and begins tinkering with the hardware on the inside of it with some sort of sci-fi screwdriver.

"It is tradition in our culture for each to donate a small portion of what they earn to the foundlings. It is with these scraps of beskar that I forged the next piece of your armor." The tribe elder comes to kneel before your son, presenting him with a round shield-like piece the size of his torso. What really gets you is the mudhorn skull carved into the steel. It's identical to Din's. "Mandalorian steel with keep you safe as you grow stronger. You will grow into this rondel as you grow into your station, foundling Grogu."

Grogu coos at the Armorer, more pride flowing through him.

"Grogu's shirt was not the only request your companion made." The Armorer speaks to you now, standing to return to her forge. With her back to you she adds, "Din Djarin asked that I make something else should there be enough steel left from the spear. I was not convinced that he was just in asking for this until I saw proof of your skills on the beach today. It is true that you impressed me. But being able to fight is one thing. What of loyalty?"

Thoughts swirl in your mind, unsure as to how you should answer such a question. Eventually you settle on, "I have proven my loyalty to Din and Grogu countless times. I took a life for the first time in order to protect them from harm. It was not easy for me to kill another living being. But if it meant keeping those dear to me safe then I would do it again without hesitation."

"Yes, the Anzati foe you killed on Smuggler's Moon. Djarin told me of this."

"Then you know I am serious."

"What of your own death? If it came down to you or this child, what would you do?"

"I would forfeit my own life for the sake of his."

The two of you look at each other for a long moment, and then the Armorer nods and begins working with her tools once more. She says nothing as she works on something, presumably for you from the way she was talking. A piece of beskar all your own? That certainly wasn't what you'd been expecting out of this. No wonder Din was being weird about encouraging the fight on the beach. It had clearly been a test, and had you been prepared you probably wouldn't haven't proven yourself under pressure.

Sounds of hammering fill the dimly lit room. The only true light source is coming from the flames of her forge. Torches light the room's entrance, but that's about it. Beside you Grogu hold his little chest plate up with wonder in his big eyes, and looking at him gets you to thinking about his relationship with Din. Which leads you to thinking about Din's relationship with his own Mandalorian mentor.

"May I ask a question?"

The hammering stops briefly. "You may."

"Where is the Mandalorian who Din was an apprentice to? The one who saved him on Aq Ventina?" You ask the question that's been burning in your mind for twenty-four hours.

"Din Djarin has not told you of this?" She asks, voice weary.

"He has not," you reply evenly. "And when I brought it up the pain he gave off was very concerning, but he would not talk to me about it. Did this man hurt Din in some way?"

The Armorer continues her work as she explains, "Only in the sense that he hurt all of us. Castyl Vanda is an apostate. He removed his helmet for an outsider and left us when Djarin was still in training. Every Mandalorian master must take his or her apprentice on their journeys throughout the galaxy. It is how we learn about life, and how to survive. When your companion was sixteen and off on his journeys, Castyl suddenly dropped him off with us one day and simply never returned. I continued with Din's training myself, but the wound it left in him was one that did not heal for many years."

Shit. This makes total sense now that you understand the context.

"Why did his master choose to become an apostate?" you ask.

"Love, so it would seem," the Armorer replies evenly. The disappointment in her tone is evident.

Jesus. No wonder he was nervous to bring you here.

"Well, I want you to now that I've told Din many times how much I respect his way of life. I would never ask him to give this up for me. I am content to only know the beskar face he displays."

"And yet you do not wish to take the oath yourself?"

With a sigh, you tell her honestly, "I came to this galaxy from a place that was not very kind to me. I was never really allowed to be myself on my home world. When I came here it was like I finally met myself, and I liked who I met. But I'm sill learning who she is. I'm not ready to sacrifice any of her freedoms just yet. I can appreciate your culture and uphold its values without a buy'ce on my head." Hopefully that little hint of Mando'a earns you a brownie point.

The Armorer takes in your response with a nod, "A wise response."

"Really?" You're shocked by her reaction.

"The Mandalorian creed should only be taken when one feels sure. It's not something to be taken lightly. But Din Djarin was right when he said your have the heart of a Mandalorian. And that is why you have earned this pauldron," the woman says as she turns to face you with another silver piece in her gloved hands.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of it. Almost identical to the pauldron on Din's right shoulder but a little daintier in size and shape. A mudhorn skull is engraved in the steel just like Din and Grogu's. The Armorer helps to fasten it to your shoulder, and an odd feeling of accomplishment rolls through your person.

*****

“Is Paz getting a tattoo?” You ask, shocked to see such an Earthly thing occurring in this cave filled with Mandalorians on a planet billions of light years away from the place. Across the common area, Teckla is using some sort of a laser device to carve out some sort of design on Paz's exposed forearm.

“Tattoos are commonplace in our culture," Din replies with a shrug.

Looking him up and down, you're almost certain that he's bare of any ink. “How come you don’t have any? Unless you have one on your face you never mentioned?”

He chuckles handsomely. “I do not. Never had anything important enough to put on my skin like that. Most of us use it as a way to commemorate our clans.

Ragnar's little voice appears out of nowhere to your right. "He's getting my name!" The child declares proudly. "And our clan signet. We are a clan of two."

"Huh," you marvel, glancing down at your shoulder where the unfamiliar weight of your beskar armor sits. Your beskar armor. Din just about passed out when he saw you coming towards him wearing it. Confusing as all of this Mando stuff is, the feeling of pride that strikes within your heart is unmeasured.

"What if we got mudhorns?" You ask him seriously.

"You mean like on our armor?" He asks, voice light with the question.

Our armor. Christ the butterflies in your stomach are going to start flying up your throat if your let them.

You grin. "Yes, just a thought. I always wanted a tattoo on Earth but I also never had anything that I felt like getting permanently. But now that I have you and Grogu, I feel like I do."

"Mm," Din hums in response. "I do like the sound of it. We can talk."

Ragnar interrupts the adults to ask, "Can Grogu come play with us?"

You look at the child in your arms, brain accessing that part of it in touch with The Force. "Do you want to play with your new friends, sweetheart?"

*****

“Why is it that you never call me ‘baby?'” Din asks, breaking you from your train of thought. He's got you cleaning weapons and polishing armor while the kids play.

With a soft laugh, you inquire, “I’ve actually got an answer for this. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “It seems like that’s a popular, what did you call it? Pet name? It seems like a popular Earth pet name for the one you love. It’s in every other song.”

“I didn’t realize how much you’ve picked up on that. Does it bother you that I don’t?”

“No, I suppose not. I’m just curious.”

“Well, to me, you’re so far removed from Earth. Calling you an Earth pet name like that has never felt right to me. I call you ner verd when I feel the need to call you something. You’re my warrior.” 

“Mm,” Din hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know why, but I like 'baby'. The way it’s used in the songs about love and romance creates an oddly warm sensation in my abdomen. I realize that your people are using it differently than the word's true definition, which is certainly very odd. Baby Be Mine, for example. That song makes me think of you, not of Grogu."

Before you can remark on how adorable Din sounds, something stops you. The grin which had been about halfway across your face falls instantly. That now familiar fuzzy feeling in the back of your mind flares up suddenly, and this time there’s so much intensity to it that it causes you to audibly gasp and drop the blade you’ve been cleaning in the sand. 

“What is it, cyar’ika?” Din asks, voice concerned as his head turns sharply to look at you. 

“Something’s wrong with Grogu,” you say, worried. You’re getting onto your feet, already moving for him before the sentence has left your lips. 

Din quickly follows, asking, “Is it The Force? Do you feel him?”

“Yes, and he’s upset. More upset than he usually gets. This feels different for some reason, Din.” The foreboding way in which that came out of your mouth was unintentional. It doesn’t feel as if he’s in mortal peril, but Din doesn’t know that. 

In your mind, an intense pang of fear flares from your cosmic companion just as his silver head whips forward and he’s rushing past you. 

When you round the corner up ahead just after he does, you’re met with a sight you weren’t ready to see. 

Grogu is standing there, angrily sobbing with both shaking little hands raised up. One of the children he’d gone off to play with is on the ground about fifteen feet away from Grogu, groaning in pain as he rolls around in the sand. It's Ragnar, to be specific. 

The rest of the children are huddled around each other, looking confused and nervous. 

“What is going on here, children?” Din asks sternly, using his father voice in full force.

Two of the children, the twins, both look at each other with worried expressions. They seem to have some sort of silent sibling communication for a moment before Shari nods to their sibling, and Nix takes a deep breath before looking up at Din. 

“Grogu wanted to play in our game but Klo and Ragnar didn’t want him to. Klo said he was too small and he wasn’t going to get it. I think that made Grogu sad, but then when Ragnar called him a tiny cry baby Grogu got mad.” Nix explains. 

“I can see that,” you say with a worried frown. Then you look the offending boy up and down for a moment before asking, “Are you okay, Ragnar?” 

The child nods, helmet glinting. He’s definitely about to cry. You can hear the sniffles clear as day, and you can feel how fraught his energy is in The Force. Whether he’s about to cry from pain or embarrassment, it’s hard to hell. 

Din seems to be less concerned with Ragnar’s feelings, stating firmly to him that, “Mandalorians should never exclude each other. Our people are already scattered across the galaxy. There aren’t many of us left. We must build a community around those we do have and remember to respect one another. Grogu may be small, but he’s just as capable as the rest of you.”

“But he’s not part of the covert!” Ragnar shouts, voice filled with angry confusion as his fists ball up at his sides in the orange sand. “He’s an outsider! My dad says all of you are! Even you!” The helmeted child angrily points at Din. Strange that just a day ago the boy's face had been on full display.

“Your dad and I grew up in this tribe together. He just doesn’t like me,” Din begins to correct the child with a chuckle. “He never has.”

"Then how come you spend so much time in space? Why not live here with us?" The angry child bites back.

Din explains, “I am a part of this covert, and Grogu is my son. By creed, he is a part of this covert too. We may not live here all the time, but our people are here regardless.”

“I think Grogu has cool powers!” The very little girl shouts, interjecting with her own opinion. Afterwards her shyness returns to her, and she burrows her face in the stuffed bantha she never seems to put down. Her name is Nayea, if you remember correctly. 

“I think he does too. And he must learn to never use them in the midst of hard feelings,” you tell the girl gently, thinking back to what Ahsoka said about the Jedi and their emotions.

But Grogu isn’t a Jedi. Like Din just said, Grogu is your son, and you have another opportunity to teach him something valuable about life. Moments like this feel completely terrifying, but it’s also a thrill to realize that this is exactly what being a parent is all about. 

He looks so scared of you when you walk up to him, and the very notion of that breaks your heart. You don’t need to feel that fear pressing against your mind. It’s clear as day on his tiny face. He understands how serious this is, and he’s so scared that he’s going to get punished harshly for it. 

“Hey, my sweet little boy,” you say to him, smiling down to try and reassure him that you’re not angry. He looks relieved, and you try your best to push that feeling toward him in The Force as you kneel down before him. 

After a moment his lip begins to quiver, and you reach a tentative hand out to him. He lets you touch him with ease, so you move to rub soothing circles into his upper back. “We need to have a conversation about this with your daddy, sweetheart. But we’re going to go do that in private, okay?”

Grogu nods, looking ashamed of himself as he dips his gaze away. You move a finger under his chin to gently make him look at you. With misty eyes, you’re smiling at him so genuinely as you say, “I’m not angry with you. This is something you need to learn from, but that doesn’t mean I’m angry. Okay? Please trust me, Grogu. I love you very much.”

“She’s right, Grogu. I’m not angry either,” Din says from behind you. He must be looking down at the kid from his full height, because Grogu has to really tilt his head to look up at the beskar clad father figure. “But we need to have a serious talk about when it’s appropriate to use your powers on another person.”

The two of you make sure the other children are fine to be left alone, Ragnar being the main one you’re worried about. It’s less that you care about the little bully, more that you want to make sure something like this isn’t going to happen again. 

But, he’s a bully because he’s been through serious trauma. And that speaks to you on a personal level. It occurs to you in this moment that the Mandalorians of Din’s covert are all trauma bonded in a way. All of them are there because they’d been orphaned at one point or another. It makes you look at Ragnar more kindly, and gives another opportunity to explain the concept of this to Grogu. 

Din, Grogu, and yourself make your way out of the network of caves and over to the shore of the beach, far enough away from the Covert that there’s a true sense of privacy and far enough from the water to avoid another sea creature incident. Din sits Grogu down on a Rock, and then the two of you sit down in the sand in front of him. All three of you are at about eye, or visor, level with each other. 

You look over to Din, and he nods once at you. Taking that as a silent encouragement to speak first, you nod back and then look right at your child. 

“We want to start by saying that we are so proud of you for defending yourself. That being said, there is a time and place for you to use your powers like that and this was not one of those times.”

Din adds, “When you feel that your life or the life of someone you love is in danger, that is when it is okay to use your powers on another person.”

You nod, “And occasionally when it’s for something fun or silly that’s okay too. As long as you mean it in a nice way.”

Din seems to agree, then continues with, “The battle you fought today is the type of battle that can be won with words. I know you cannot talk yet, but sometimes actions speak louder than words do anyway. Your body may be small for now but when you live up to your own values then you can be the biggest person in the room. Act like the bigger person even when it feels hard to do so. Do not let your anger rule you. And if that doesn’t work, we can speak. We are your protectors while you are too young to defend yourself. Instead of relying on the power of the force, rely on the power of your family. Next time, come and get one of us and we’ll make sure you’re safe.” 

“It’s okay to feel your anger and process it, it's not okay to take it out on people. I’m sorry that kid hurt your feelings, though,” you add. “Anytime you need to feel hard feelings, your mom and dad will try to help you through it. That’s what we’re here for.” 

“Ragnar owes you an apology, but it’s easy to understand where his behavior comes from. He’s just an angry little boy who doesn’t know what to do with such big feelings, and he took it out on you.” Din seems to be speaking from the heart, and you can feel that coming from him. “I was like him once. He’ll learn his lessons in due time. All you can do is ignore him and keep your own head up.”

Grogu looks at Din with understanding and determination behind his dark eyes, nodding up at his father. 

You decide to add one more thing, drawing from a line in a movie which always stuck with you. “Life is going to always have moments like this. Some kids will be nice to you, and some kids will be mean. It’s up to you to react in a way you can feel proud of later. Besides, I think he was jealous that you beat him this morning. Remember that it's more about how he feels about himself than it is about you.

“Mom’s right on this one, buddy,” Din says, and you can hear the smile in his voice, love radiating off of his energy in The Force. 

“I love you boys so much,” you blurt out, eyes suddenly filling with tears. “We really do make a good family, don’t we?”

“We do,” Din agrees, voice choked.

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

Mando'a words:

The Mando lady Teckla asks one of the kids wearing a helmet if he knows why the creatures give off the natural illumination.

Grogu only half-listens to the child, Tarke, give an explanation of something called bioluminescence, all the while his true concentration focusing on a particularly juicy looking bug sticking out of the wall just above his head. After a moment the creature springs free, floating through the air and into Grogu's open, waiting mouth of sharp little teeth.

Out of all the bugs he's had to eat in his time, this one is… just okay. Disappointing, because it looks much more delicious than it tastes. That's not going to stop him from trying one more, though. With the help of the Force, he pulls another from the wall, slurping it up as it enters his mouth. He lets out a small belch after that one. Alright, the second one was tastier than the first. Maybe just one more to be sure…

"Grogu ate one!" Ragnar yells, pointing at the smaller boy accusingly as he interrupts the lesson.

Grogu grunts out a noise of irritation, eyes narrowing slightly at the other child as his hand drops, power waning.

"Grogu leave them be," Teckla chides lightly, tongue clicking. "We want to be able to see our way back, don't we?"

Grogu chirps, nodding. Ragnar makes a scoffing noise, and the party continues on forward.

The underground waterfall and the small body of water surrounding it are one of the most beautiful things Grogu has seen in his young life. It's as if the water itself is glowing just as the tasty treats back in the corridor, steam rising from the light blue radiant liquid. The water streaming down into the lake seems to be coming from a small hole in a rocky outcropping on the far wall, up near the cave ceiling. It doesn't seem to be glowing until it actually hits the lake, though.

Ragnar and the kids without helmets start running for the glowing waters with cheers, and Teckla begins barking orders for them to remain calm and listen to her. The twins and Naeya halt ankle-deep, turning to look at the adult in charge with embarrassment.

Ragnar keeps going until he's waist-deep, turning to look back at everyone as he says, "Oh, whoops."

The two teenagers wearing helmets stand at the water's edge, arms crossed as each shakes their beskar clad head. Grogu feels their judgment and frowns, moving to stand beside Teckla's black boots. He'd like to avoid those two as much as possible.

Teckla instructs the teen boys to teach Ragnar how to handle his armor in the water, and how to work the underwater functions of his helmet.

As he enters the cool liquid, Grogu adjusts the dart gun on his arm and the new beskar plate over his robe with the leather strap holding it in place, remembering how his dad told him to always check his armor just before he left this morning.

"It's gotta fit snug so it doesn't slide, but not so tight that it restricts your movement."

Hearing his dad's voice in his head makes the green child miss him, a soft, "Da," escaping his lips.

Grogu smiles at the sound of his own voice. He loves his dad so much. And his mama.

Grogu feels a little uncomfortable without his parents here, but also feels happy and proud that they trusted him to go off without them. Especially after yesterday. He knows that using his powers in the heat of the moment is wrong, particularly when it's done out of anger.

He still doesn't know if he can trust Ragnar, but he trusts in how much the creed his dad is always talking about means to their people. Hopefully, Ragnar's words earlier were as heartfelt as they sounded.

The human child is a little bit of a trouble maker though, souring this outing with his naughty behavior. Dad says the boy acts this way because he's angry, and he's angry because of his loss. Grogu understands this deeply, but he also knows first hand how dangerous an emotion like anger can be.

"Ragnar, you and the twins need to quit your orbak-play! I told you to watch Harak and Tarke, and do as they do!" Teckla demands angrily, then she looks down at Grogu, who has been faithfully by her side and following her instructions the entire time they've been in the water thus far.

Of course he is, though. How else is he supposed to make his parents proud?

"Thank you for listening, little ones," she says to both him and Naeya kindly, giving the girl an affectionate, but wet, pat on her blonde head with a black gloved hand.

Naeya, who has taken to the water like a Mon Calamari and is listening surprisingly well, says, "You’re welcome!" Just before she dives under the light blue water again.

"Come on, Grogu! Swim with me!" Naeya demands with fits of giggles when she surfaces and floats around.

Grogu's little arms and legs propel him forward in the water as much as they can, giggles of his own bubbling into the cool blue liquid each time his head bobs up and down. When Naeya ripples past him, aided by her longer limbs, he gives himself a little boost using the Force to catch up with her.

Harak and Tarke, the other two children wearing helmets besides Ragnar, are trying their best to wrangle the other kids across the pool where they're swimming in the deeper section.

"Ragnar, if you're not going to take this seriously then you don't deserve to wear that helmet," Tarke bites at the younger child angrily, fed up mood surpassing far beyond his yellow beskar barrier. "Perhaps you really were too young to take the creed. You aren't ready."

The younger Mandalorian cries petulantly, splashing at the older Mandos. "Hey, you can't talk to me like that! My dad says I'm ready!"

"Tarke outranks you. He most certainly can talk to you like that. And he's right," Harak says, the frustration coming from the oldest of the teens evident in his voice, and within his energy. "When you act selfish and childish you put the entire covert at risk! Mandalorians must put their brethren and the creed first. Always. This is The Way."

Ragnar begins to angrily argue, the furious heat in him flaring dangerously hot.

The Force is suddenly overwhelmed with highly intense feelings coming from several directions, and Grogu makes a noise of distress. This feels like it isn't going to end well.

Teckla seems to notice, looking down at the boy before back to the other bickering kids. "Dammit, children! Stop this at once!"

Ragnar suddenly lets out a cry of rage, launches himself at Harak, and the three helmeted boys begin physically fighting, bodies thrashing about in the water as each tries to throw a punch or a kick.

Grogu's ears cast downward at the sight of it, and he whines with worry. Naeya begins crying at Grogu's side.

Teckla moves through the water to separate the boys, and just as she makes her way over to them, Ragnar jerks out a great splashing kick. A kick which accidentally hits one of thermal detonators strapped to Teckla's hip, activating the charge with a beep and a blinking red light.

"Shit, shit, shit," Teckla curses, fear rising with the cadence of her voice as she haphazardly throws the charge as far away as possible. "Kids, get under the water! NOW!"

Everything happens so quickly after that. It's a chaotic cacophony of yelling, splashing, and, eventually, an ear ringing explosion.

Even under the water, the power of the blast is enough to let Grogu know that he and his friends are suddenly in a grave amount of danger.

Sharp rocks begin falling into the water all around his small body, and just before one is about to land on him, he uses his power to block it, allowing it to gently float down to the bottom of the glowing lake as he swims swiftly out of the way.

He surfaces again, and the scene before him fills the small child with much dread.

The entrance into the tunnel which led them here is completely caved in. Around him, the children are all moving around frantically. Some of them cry, and some of them mutter, or scream.

Teckla appears to be pinned with her legs under a significantly large boulder, most of her body under water. Naeya is beside her, sobbing and clutching the woman's beskar covered arm.

The adult's moans of pain are audible from Grogu's vantage point, relief flooding the boy's system as he realizes her energy still has a heartbeat within The Force, meaning she still has a heartbeat within her body as well.

The oldest and smallest child looks around the natural room, noting that the twins and Ragnar appear to be unharmed, but terrified. Ragnar keeps repeating the phrase, "I'm sorry," over and over again.

Tarke, on the other hand, is unconscious up on the rocky shore with Harak sitting anxiously by his side. His heartbeat in the force is fainter than Teckla's, and there's a dent in his chest plate.

"I think he needs to be resuscitated, but I'd have to remove our helmets. I don't know what to do," the older child suddenly sounds munch younger than he has all day, fear making his voice small as his green armor trembles.

Grogu swims over to the boulder pinning Teckla down, lifting his clawed hands to begin using his power to move it, thinking logically that saving the adult first so she can save everyone else is the option which makes the most sense. The boulder shifts only a fraction of a nanometer.

He stops, scared, as Teckla shrieks for him to cease his efforts.

The woman holds up a gloved hand as Naeya cries beside her. "No, Grogu! If you move this now, it could cause more serious injuries. It can't be moved until someone can get here with a med-kit. I'll need a bacta spray at least. So will Tarke from the looks of it. My beskar will keep me from getting completely crushed, at least for a little while, but I know one of my legs is broken."

Grogu nods, waiting for more instruction as the Mandalorian woman surveys the room as best she can from her stuck position.

"Ragnar, stop repeating yourself and breathe. Is the way out completely blocked?" she asks, voice growing hoarse with pain as she grunts.

"Yes, Ma'am," Ragnar confirms, attempting to pull himself together. Grogu feels his remorse for this disaster. "Is there no other way out?"

"No," Teckla shakes her head, cursing as she looks up at the ceiling with her visor pointed towards the heavens. "Unless…"

After a moment the woman tells the children to gather round. Harak refuses to leave Tarke's side, and Teckla doesn't fight him on it. She addresses the rest of the group with a tone of authority.

Teckla gives her orders, wincing between every few words, "Twins, Naeya. I want the three of you to try, very carefully, removing as many rocks blockading our exit as you can. Ragnar and Grogu. The two of you are to climb up to the waterfall's brink and make your way out of the caverns by following the stream to the outside. The opening should be big enough for each of you to fit. From there, I need you to bring help immediately. Make sure you have them bring medical supplies. You two will need to work together. Remember you are Mandalorian foundlings, and this is your duty to your people. Now go, boys. Go!"

The boys move without argument, following their orders with the knowledge that this situation is serious, and that the fate of their friends is in their hands.

With bravery in their hearts, Grogu and Ragnar begin the dangerous climb up to the top of the waterfall. Slipping here, working together there. Grogu's claws and body type make the climb a much easier task for him than for his human partner. Eventually, though it's not an easy task, they make it up to the top.

When Ragnar's boots slip on the smooth, slimy wet surface and he nearly goes falling to his death on the jagged rock face below, Grogu uses his power to hold the boy in place and pull him in to safety.

"Thanks, Grogu. I owe you one," Ragnar says, patting Grogu's head as they move carefully forward, towards the sunlight peeking through a small hole up ahead.

Just as they make their way to the blissful exit to what was once a nice place, a creature bearing fangs and a vicious growl jumps out at the boys, trampling through the shallow water towards them. Ragnar quickly shoots two of his darts into the creature's one and only big eye, and the thing whimpers, taking off back in the direction from which it came as it blindly stumbles and cries.

With a laugh, while surveying the opening into safety and fresh air, Ragnar says, "Well, I guess we're even already. Come on, lets go get our parents. Looks like a tight fit for me but I think I can make it through. You go first."

Grogu takes a deep breath and begins climbing through the hole, ready to find his parents and get the help the others so desperately need. For the second day on a row leaving them to play with the other kids has ended poorly.

Next time, Grogu is definitely going to stay home with mom and dad.

*****

Later on into the morning, going on mid-day really, you and Din emerge from the Razor Crest with the weight of a several months-long secret having finally been lifted. It feels as though the two of you set foot onto the sand with a greater understanding of one another, making the sandy ground beneath your black boots feel like those chocolate bars filled with tiny pockets of air from back on Earth.

Ugh. Chocolate. How I long for you. You think with a small smile to yourself, enjoying the feel of Din's gloved thumb tracing tiny shapes on the back of your hand as you try to push images of the rich candy from your mind. Lest your mouth begin to water and the cravings become unbearable. When you look at him, though, his head looks briefly like a Hershey kiss and a loud snort escapes your nose.

Though his energy is still anxious and confused deep down, your cosmic companion feels lighter to you than he has in days. His laugh brings so much love to your heart as he asks, "What are you thinking about?"

With a dreamy sigh, you tell him, "Chocolate, Din. I'm thinking about how much I miss chocolate. It was a favorite treat of mine back on Earth. It's an available option for like any kind of dessert you can think of. It comes from these things called cocoa beans and they usually add milk and sugar to make it the kind of chocolate I'm referring to. It's tends to be some shade of brown, and has a very distinct taste even though no two brands ever taste the same."

Din stops walking, bends with his hands on his beskar thigh plates, and he laughs, silver head glinting in the bright sun as he shakes his head to and fro. "Cyar'ika," he grunts between guffaws, "I know what chocolate is."

"What?!" You shriek, jaw dropping. "No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way," Din laughs more, the sound of it eventually tapering off as he stands up to his full height. "It's rare, but I've had it a handful of times. Have you not come across any since you came to this galaxy?"

Laughing yourself, you shove at the Mandalorian before moving to interlock your fingers with this once more. "Din, why in a million fucking years would I ever think that you guys have chocolate in this galaxy?"

He shrugs, "I do think it's a little odd, but if human life exists in both this galaxy and yours, it would make sense that there are only so many digestible things in the universe for humans to eat. Some things must just exist in both. Perhaps this is just one of those great mystical mysteries of your all-knowing magical Force."

You also give a shrug, rolling your eyes, "I guess, but I've yet to see a single thing in this galaxy that comes even close to any food from Earth. No offense, though. You always make our family delicious food. It's just all so different from what I grew up eating. If I can ever eat a vegan mushroom cheeseburger again I'll call it my lucky day." Saying the final bit, you elbow at his side playfully. "And it's not my Force. It's everyone's, butthead."

"You and these burger-things," Din chuckles, enjoying the banter between you as he grabs your jabbing arm to stop you. "I want you to have one again simply so I can stop hearing about it."

"Hey!" You giggle, kicking sand at his ankles with the toe of your boot. "You'll be sorry when you try it and you can't stop craving one either."

Din kicks some sand back in retaliation. "I don't know about that. But as far as this craving for chocolate goes, perhaps we can make a stop on Batuu one of these days. It's a beautiful planet, and the last time I was there I recall having chocolate covered surabat grain that was quite good. I've heard that there are even some places in the galaxy where they make warm, drinkable chocolate, but I've never seen it for myself."

Shaking your head, you're full of disbelief. "I still feel like you're fucking with me and chocolate does not exist here."

"Listening to you explain it to me was very cute, cyare," Din says fondly.

You huff, but smile at him broadly. "Ugh. So embarrassing."

"You never have to feel embarrassed with me," Din intones seriously.

Heat finds your cheeks, and you simply nod in understanding as you lay your head on his shoulder with a content sigh. The two of you resume your walk up to the cave entrance, and not a moment later five Mandalorians wiz by overhead on their jet packs.

"Looks like they're practicing flying in a formation today," Din muses, visor tilted towards the sky.

"It's so interesting to see this up close and personal," you say idly. "I love getting a deeper glimpse into your Mando life. It's almost what I would assume living on a military base must be like."

"Yes and no," Din says earnestly. "At least, we are nothing like the Empire was, which is what comes to mind when you say military base. The Imps didn't care about their people from my understanding. Storm Troopers existed just to be expendable. No one in our tribe is expendable. We may train our bodies for battle, but we live like a community. We help each other learn and grow. It's not about who can take out the most bad guys, or fighting for some political cause. We fight to remain a living part of this galaxy. We fight to avoid extinction."

"I guess it make sense why you feel so bad about steering from the path," You say gently and quietly, squeezing his hand.

"It certainly doesn't help," Din agrees solemnly.

"Well, Din Djarin," you say, puffing out your chest a little as you speak with bravado, "you've got me and you've got a tiny Mandalorian foundling who need to learn the ways of your people so we can help keep the culture going strong. I want to help your way of life to live on."

"Cyar'ika," Din's voice grows serious as his feet cease walking once more. "I don't need you to take the creed to be with me. You know that, right?"

Smiling, you nod. "I don't want to take the creed, Din. I even told the Armorer as much and she respected me for my reasons. As I told her: I can uphold Mandalorian values without a helmet on my head. I also never want us to pressure Grogu into taking the creed. If he wants to when he's grown enough to decide, I truly want it to be his choice. But, hey, we both got armor anyway, didn't we? I'd say that makes me and our little guy pretty damn close to the real thing."

As you say this, you proudly raise the shoulder with your silver pauldron, adoring the way the weight of it feels and how the sunlight bounces off of it brightly. But then you frown, adding, "I can't help but feel like the rest of me his horribly exposed now, though."

"Mm," Din hums thoughtfully, resuming the walk. "We can work on getting you some pieces that aren't necessarily beskar, but would still give you some decent protection. I used to have a lot of durasteel armor scrapped from old imperial trooper suits. I couldn't afford a full set of pure beskar until the job I did for the bounty on the kid. You know it is not easy to come by. I'm thankful that I was able to provide the steel for the pauldron you earned, otherwise the Armorer would have probably never gone along with it."

"Thank you for that," you intone fondly. Just as you say this, the Mandalorians in flight training wiz past again, this time in the opposite direction while flying in a v formation. Squinting up at them, you sigh dreamily. "If only I were able to earn one of those one day. And maybe get over my fear of heights."

Din sounds surprised, "You're scared of heights?"

With a nod, you shudder. "I mean, if you count fear of falling from a great height and splattering to my death like rotten fruit, then yes. I'm not bothered by it when we're in the Space RV, but the idea of being all the way up there without the protection of a ship around me seems terrifying."

For a third time Din stops walking, and he puts a hand on either of your shoulders. "Fly with me, Cyar'ika. I know how brave you can be. I'll help you get over your fears."

"Like right now? Hell no! We are not doing a Lois and Superman thing, romantic as that may be," you say with frantic shake of the head, hands up in defense.

"I'm going to just ignore that reference," Din says, moving to start scooping you up bridal style.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" You shriek, clinging to his neck for dear life as he lifts your feet from the sandy ground. "Din, put me down! You can't be serious!"

"Trust me, love?" He asks with fond amusement.

Shaking your head frantically, you cry, "Not right now I don't!"

"Come on, please trust me. I'd never let anything happen to you." Din says softly in your ear, the hiss of his modulator causing a shiver to make its way up your back.

"Alright, alright. Just a quick ride though, okay? Baby steps, please," you plea, burying your face into the fabric of his cape where it bunches together just above his chest plate.

"Baby steps," Din agrees, and then he's starting the jet pack and taking off into the sky with you screeching all the while.

*****

"Okay," you laugh as you and Din enter the covert's caves, feet on the ground once more. "After I stopped feeling like I was going to throw up, that was actually pretty fun."

"Told you," Din says fondly. "Thank you for being brave."

You blush. "Thank you for encouraging my bravery."

"Mr. and Mrs. Djarin?" A small voice politely interrupts as you walk into the torch-lit common area.

Your heart swells at the sound of such a title being used, and it becomes abundantly clear to you just how ready you are to become this Mandalorian's riduur. To be his wife in every sense of each word, in each of the ways your respective cultures intend for it to be used.

Turning, you see Klo standing off to the side. The boy is ringing his green hands nervously, large eyes cast down at the sandy orange ground.

Eyes flicking to Din with concern, you break from him and move to kneel down in front of the alien child. Din comes to stand beside you with a hand on your shoulder. You feel the encouragement from him, and fix Klo with a soft expression. One you've used often over the last year with Grogu.

"Hey, Klo. Is everything okay?" you ask the boy gently. "I see you didn't go swimming with the other kids."

He shakes his dark green head of scales. "I didn't want to go with them."

"I understand. Can we help you with something?" You ask, feeling the kid's trepidation.

The child nods, antenna bobbing. "I am sorry for being rude to Grogu yesterday."

Smiling warmly, you reassure him, "Oh, hun, that's okay. Thank you for apologizing. Grogu forgave Ragnar and I'm sure he'll be ready to forgive you as well when you see him."

The boy still wont look at either of you. "I didn't want to be mean to him, but I was afraid that Ragnar would stop being my friend if I didn't go along with it."

Din pipes up, moving down to one knee beside you. "Why do you think that would make Ragnar not want to be your friend?"

"He's a Mandalorian now. He's not the same as he was before." Klo says anxiously.

You frown a little, understanding what the boy is getting at as your empathy takes over. "And that scares you, doesn't it?"

Klo nods, sniffling. He finally makes eye contact with you, huffing as he says, "I don't want to become a Mandalorian."

"That's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to," you assure the boy.

Klo frowns, "But I know he wants me to. He wants me to be just like him."

Nodding, you try to understand. "He's probably scared to let go of his old life, and he may think that if you join him he won't have to. But the only person who knows that for sure is Ragnar."

The kid's voice grows desperate, needing to be understood. "But if I don't become a Mandalorian, then I will have to leave. I won't see Ragnar ever again."

Din disagrees, "That's not necessarily true. You may have chances to visit each other in the future. It'll be much easier when you're both grown."

Klo looks at Din, the worry evident on his alien brow. "But what if he doesn't want to see me? I'm afraid to tell him because I don't want him to hate me."

"Klo, if Ragnar hates you for that then he's not a great friend to begin with," you say firmly, adding, "Friends should want each other to be happy."

Din gestures towards you. "She's not Mandalorian and she's my best friend. She told me just today that she doesn't want to take the creed. I could never hate her for that, because I could never hate her for anything. If your friendship with Ragnar is strong, it will survive this."

You look at Din with so much raw affection that it nearly makes your head spin. "What he said," you offer lamely.

"Are you sure?" Klo asks, incredibly uncertain.

Din nods at the boy. "All you can do is trust your friend with your feelings and hope for the best."

In agreement, you add, "It's not easy, but it's also what makes the friendships that last some of the most meaningful relationships we can have in life."

"I will tell him today, then," Klo declares bravely, body straightening a little as he stands tall. "I thought that they would have been back by now," he says, looking around.

Standing to your full height, you offer Din your hand to help him up. "You know, it has been a while since they left. Do you think we should be worried, Din?"

A feeling of dread washes over you then, and in that instant you realize that you most certainly should be worried.

As if on cue, Paz Vizsla approaches the three of you after rounding a corner. "I've lost communications with Teckla. I haven't heard back from her since they left."

Din's head whips to you, and then to Paz. "Shit," he curses. "We need to go. Now. Show us to the lake," he demands, tone and body language instantly ready for a fight.

But just as the three adults start to take off running, you hear your son's tiny voice yelling, "Da!" in a desperate and scared tone, calling desperately for his dad.

*****

"Da!" Grogu's small voice rings into the quiet of the covert's common area as he and Ragnar round the corner into the room, soaking wet and looking worse for wear.

Din's heart swells at hearing his son call out for him, but worry over kid's well bearing and the safety the others overpowers that feeling temporarily. "Grogu? What happened, buddy?"

"Dad!" Ragnar screams, barrelling into his adoptive father. "We have to go now! We have to help them!"

"Son, slow down. What happened?" Paz says, taking the boy by the shoulders and holding him out enough to look visor to visor with him.

"It was all my fault. I fought with Harak and when Teckla tried to stop us, one of her charges detonated. She and Tarke are hurt, Dad. People are hurt and it's my fault," at this, Ragnar begins to audibly cry under his helmet.

Din's heart goes out to the kid. Mistakes this big feel like shit.

Paz remains calm, saying, "You can atone for this by helping us fix it."

Ragnar nods, sniffing, "Teckla needs a med-kit. She said at least one bacta spray for each of them. She's pinned under a huge rock and she said if we moved it, she would be more hurt than she is now. She said we can't move it until she has the med-kit."

Paz nods, clearly in tactical mode, "We have a few med-kits. I'll get what we have, but it sounds like we need to hurry."

As they move, Ragnar quickly explains how he and Grogu climbed up and out of the cavern using the waterfall. He explains how he and Grogu helped to keep each other safe, and that Teckla gave all of the kids strict instructions to follow. The others are back in the cave, attempting to clear a path back into the caved-in tunnel.

Once equipped, the three adults, the kids, and a few extra sets of hands make their way down the corridor leading to the lake. It's pitch black, and Ragnar remarks that the explosion must have scared off "the bugs," whatever that means.

Grogu coos in some form of agreement from his perch on Din's shoulder, and the man can't help but smile despite the dire circumstances. This day has been filled with so much pride for his boy.

Saying his first word was one thing. Helping to save his fellow foundlings is another thing all together. It's the most Mandalorian thing the kid could have done. His bravery and dedication to others causes Din's heart to swell hard within his armor covered body.

Din realizes then that maybe that's all being a Mandalorian really is at the end of the day. Maybe what's in one's heart is truly more important than what is or isn't hidden under a helmet. Maybe not every noble cause has to have some great sacrifice attached to it. This realization rocks his entire being.

Now is certainly not the time to be altering his perspective on everything he's ever known for over thirty cycles.

When the group finally hits the newly-made dead end, Din hears the unmistakable cries of children calling for help on the other side of it.

There's one tiny sliver of light bleeding through where the kids have made a small dent in the precarious rock pile.

Paz surveys the dead end, thinking out loud, "I don't want to set another charge and risk making this worse. But how can we move this quickly? They are running out of time."

"Grogu," Din says gently but expectantly, feeling the child slide down his cape and land on his bare feet in the sand. Din looks down at him and then nods to the rocks. "You know what to do, buddy."

"Hang on, sweetie. Let me warn the others," you say down to Grogu, squatting with both hands on either side of the thin opening. Leaning with your face only inches from it, you yell through the crack, advising the children inside to all move back away from the entrance as far as possible. Then you turn back to Grogu, throwing him a broad smile the thumbs up you've been using with him more frequently to communicate. "Alright, kiddo. Do your thing."

Din watches you stand and back up, switching spots with the child you both love so dearly. As you come to stand beside Din, you grab for his hand and bring the appendage up to your lips, kissing the leather covering his fingers. Seeemingly, without a single care about the handful of onlookers.

Din feels incredibly in love with you in that moment, stomach stirring with affection and need. When all of this is through, Din is going to be very ready to get the Crest back on the road. He's ready to find his place with you and settle down once and for all. In his bones he knows it to be true.

Maker, what a time to be thinking like this.

Grogu lifts his arms, and after a moment the rocks begin to dislodge from each other and float away. He makes a big enough gap for the adults to fit through, and the rescue party makes their way into the watery cavern.

The team makes quick work of getting the situation under control. You and a female Mando move to get Naeya and the twins out to safety. Paz, Ragnar, and a male Mando Din also doesn't know move to help Tarke and Harak with one of the med-kits. Din and Grogu move to help Teckla with the other.

"Alright, buddy. I know you're probably getting really tired. I'm sorry, but I need you to use your powers just one more time for me today. Can you do that?" Din asks his son gently, hating the idea that the boy would ever feel like he's being exploited for his abilities. He also hates the idea of deliberately pushing the child past his limits.

Grogu nods bravely, tiny chin pointed out. He puffs in a big breath and lifts his hands as his eyes slip closed. After a moment of shaking, the boulder pinning Teckla in place lifts up about a foot in the air. Then Grogu carefully moves it off to the side where it can't hurt anyone anymore.

Din swiftly administers bacta to the moaning patient, confident that the Mandalorian woman will survive this accident.

Without prompting, Grogu waddles over to the woman weakly. He places a hand on one of her crushed legs, eyes closing again for a long moment as he tunes into The Force. When his big brown eyes open once more, they blink a few times. Grogu's vision goes a little blurry, and then he hears dad shouting his name with worry in his human voice as the boy feels himself wobble and topple over.

*****

"Din, he's awake," you say softly to your worried cosmic companion. The Mandalorian hasn't stopped pacing the first floor of the Razor Crest since you crawled into the cot with your passed out child nearly forty minutes ago. You're surprised the floor doesn't have a massive dent forming in the hull.

It's been easy to ignore him, though. All of your focus has been on trying to feel Grogu's energy in The Force. Making sure he is still there, still with you even if he's completely worn down.

Grogu stirs against the black pillow, ears flicking up and down as he blinks and takes in his surroundings. When he makes eye contact with you, his bottom lip begins to quiver, and he whimpers out a little cry.

"Shh," you soothe, pulling the child into your arms, "I know, sweetheart. You had a really big day, didn't you?"

Grogu clutches at your dark shirt, moaning little noises of distress.

Din appears at the foot of the cot, squatting, with his left forearm resting above his head on the top part of the opening.

How dare he look so good at a time like this?

Thankfully, you're pulled immediately from your improper thoughts by his soft voice as he speaks lovingly to Grogu.

"Hey, buddy," Din says, "I bet today was really scary, wasn't it? It's okay, though. 'Cause you were so brave and you did such a great job."

"Da!" Grogu shouts when he sees Din, immediately crawling across the cot to get to his father. Once at the edge, he launches himself into Din's arms, nearly knocking the man backwards.

Din laughs heartily, cradling the boy to his silver plated chest. Then his voice takes on an earnest tone which makes your heart swell as you listen to him. "You were a true Mandalorian warrior today, Grogu, and I couldn't be more proud. You put your differences with Ragnar aside to help your friends out of a bind. You stayed calm in the face of danger. You problem solved, and saved lives. You did such a good job, kid."

Grogu yawns, smiling. You feel his pride wade strongly through his thick, murky exhaustion. Though the exhaustion is certainly the thing dominating his energy at the moment. He used a ton of his power today. Both physically and mentally. He probably needs to eat something and go right back to sleep.

Din seems to be just as in tune with Grogu as you are, fatherly intuition in place of your maternal Force sensitivity. A fond smile crosses your tired features as he whispers to the boy, "It's okay to rest. You're home with us, my son. You're safe."

Grogu snuggles into Din, cooing. You crawl to the edge of the cot and simply watch your boys interact without feeling the need to interject yourself.

Din's energy feels more at peace than it has the entire time your family has been with the Tribe, and you smile broadly when you realize he's humming one of your favorite Bowie songs to Grogu.

You're so thankful for this little family detour when you really give yourself a moment think about it.

You and Grogu have been given the chance to not only prove yourselves to Din and his people, but on a personal level as well. Din's been able to work through some deeply old pain. You and your son received your very own pieces of beskar. So much has come to light, and yet nothing has really changed within the sanctity of your home enough for it to scare you. Not truly.

That's the best part of all, knowing at the end of the day the love binding your family together is stronger than the obstacles any of you may face.

Din's humming tapers off, and the Mandalorian moves to place his beskar forehead lightly to the green flesh of his child's. His mood grows even more emotional, voice growing more vulnerable along with it. "I mean it when I call you my son, Grogu. You are ner ad. You are my boy. I promise that we will properly adopt you when the time is right, and I will not wait too long. The ritual is just saying words which will solidify the strong bond we already share. I want things to feel just right when we do it."

Grogu coos, nodding in understanding as he says, "Da."

It's then that your stomach growls, and you find yourself asking if the boys want dinner before officially going to bed.

It's then that Grogu looks over at you and wriggles around in Din's grasp, repositioning himself so that he can reach for you with grabby claws as he says, "Ma!"

In that moment your heart swells, and being Grogu's mom feels like the thing you were literally born to do. Like everything that ever happened in your weird life really was being orchestrated by The Force, all so you could eventually be right here right now with this little alien boy calling you his mom.

You've never once in your life considered yourself to be religious, or that things are preordained, but for a crazy moment you think maybe this particular kid is so important in the grand scheme of things, that The Force needed him to have the perfect mom and dad to raise him. Were you and Din hand-picked by the universe to ensure that this child will grow up to be a genuinely good person and not fall victim to this dark side Ahsoka was so afraid of?

Scoffing internally, you want to call yourself a narcissist for thinking in such a way. But as soon as you take Grogu into your arms, some eerie thing in the back of your mind tells you that you may not be so crazy after all.

*****

The following morning, you and your family make your way back into the covert's caves for a meeting being called by The Armorer. Just as the day you first came to meet this tribe, every Mandalorian is gathered in the common area awaiting her presence. Soon after you and your boys get settled in a far corner, the great horned leader of your lover's people comes to stand in the center of the room.

Din rubs his pauldron gently into yours, the beskar clinking as he whispers a soft, "I love you," while grabbing for your fingers in the sand.

"I love you too, chrome dome," you whisper back fondly, squeezing him in return as you send him a loving look.

Grogu looks up at the two of you from his spot between you, chirping his own noises of affection. "Ma! Da!"

The Armorer finally addresses the tribe, giving a brief explanation of the events which transpired in the underground lake. She then goes on to say that Teckla and Tarke are both on their way to recovery and will be fit to leave the medical sector by the following day or the next. Then she calls for Ragnar and Grogu to step forward.

"These foundlings showed exemplary brotherhood in the face of adversity and danger. Ragnar and Grogu went into that cavern as opposites, but came out as equal members of this covert. Ragnar has earned the next piece of his armor. This is The Way!"

"This is The Way!" The covert shouts in return, and this time you hear Din shout it loudly and proudly.

"This is The Way," you say softly to him, leaning over to kiss the side of his helmet.

"Mm," Din hums, pulling you to him so that you are sitting hip to hip, bodies pressed tightly. His voice drops to a low, husky tone. "I'm going to need to hear you say that again, but in the privacy of our home. After Grogu's gone to bed."

"Din Djarin!" You hiss as quietly as possible, burying your face in his shoulder with embarrassment. "You're acting like a horny senior at a high school assembly. Calm yourself. Down, boy."

"I have no idea what any of that means, cyar'ika," Din chuckles.

The Mandalorian in orange armor a few feet in front of you turns around and actually shushes you guys, disdain leaking from his person. He shakes his beskar head with a huff before turning around.

"Oh, God!" You mutter, hiding your face once more. How mortifying.

Din chuckles even harder, and considering where his head was at this time yesterday regarding the creed, you wonder idly if hes gone mad.

Your attention is piqued when the Armorer announces that Naeya is to be adopted by Teckla once the woman is recovered, and that that twins have been chosen for adoption by Clan Dystra. The two Mandalorians who helped out in the cavern yesterday approach the Armorer with bowed helmets. The twins approach as well, and you watch with a full heart as the two children happily cling to each adoptive parent. The Mando couple radiates affection.

"Let it be written in song that these foundlings will be adopted into Clan Dystra. This is The Way. I have one final announcement to make," she pauses for a long moment, and then she asks that you and Din step forward.

"What?!" Din whispers beside you, dread washing over his energy as his visor searches your face.

In an instant you understand. He's absolutely terrified that shes about to out him in front of the entire tribe, to call him an apostate and exile him. If only he knew that is not the vibe she's giving off whatsoever.

As the two of you rise and move forward, Grogu joining at your feet, Klo comes to stand beside the Armorer. All at once it makes sense, but you allow the tribe elder to explain.

"Klo has decided not to remain among us. His home world of Rodia is not far from here, in the Tyrius system. He believes he has an aunt there who would be willing to take him in. Clan Mudhorn is the only clan in this covert with a ship that could easily make the journey. Do you accept the task of returning this child to his family?"

Din lets out an audible sigh of relief next to you, and the two of you lock eye to visor. After a moment of silent agreement, you nod at one another. Then you both look down at Grogu.

"Well, buddy? What do you think?" Din asks, "Do we help our friend in need?"

Grogu nods, giving his thumbs up, and you look up at the Armorer with a nod of your own. "We accept."

*****

As your family prepares to leave the Tribe until who knows when, you and Din patiently wait for the children to all say their goodbyes to one another. Luckily for Klo, it would seem that Ragnar does not hate him after all, and is very enthusiastic about trying to visit him in the future.

You watch Naeya and Grogu play chase, smiling fondly at your boy getting to simply act like a child for a moment. Not a Jedi or a Mandalorian, just a little kid with his fun and games.

Teckla appears then, and you greet the woman with surprise. "I figured you would have been down for the count still."

The woman winces below her helmet, limping as she walks up. "I am, mostly. But I couldn't let Klo leave without saying goodbye."

"Congratulations about Naeya. I hope you enjoy being a mom," you say earnestly.

"Thank you," Teckla says with a nod. "You've done well with yours. I owe him my life."

"Thank you," you reply, smiling. "I appreciate that. Though, the moving stuff with his mind thing was not something he learned from us," you laugh.

"He's growing a good strong heart thanks to you. That's all I'm saying," Teckla shrugs, moving into the room to talk to the kids. She looks over her shoulder at the last minute to tell you, "Oh, the Armorer would like to see you by the way."

*****

"You wanted to see me?" You say, entering the Armorer's forge by yourself. A nerve-racking thing to be sure.

"Ah, yes. I wanted to give you some information that may help you on your journeys," the Armorer says, gesturing for you to sit.

You do, asking, "To get Klo home? Shouldn't Din be here for this?"

"No. I am certain that journey will not cost you more than a weeks time. Din knows his way to that system very well," she says confidently. You wonder briefly if she's taken him there herself.

Brow knitted in confusion, you seek clarification from the Mandalorian, consciously trying to remain polite sounding. "May I ask what you are referring to, then?"

The tribe elder nods, "Sometimes in life, one needs catharsis. Even if one does not truly know it. Some wounds we heal on our own, with our own strength. Some wounds require aid to heal. This is true of both the body and the mind. Some wounds, if left to fester, can alter the trajectory of our future with infection. If we do not heal and let these things go, we eventually sour from them."

The Armorer waits for you to say something, and you're sure you look dumbfounded as you blurt, "I understand. I think. This is about Din?"

She nods, "In some cases, learning to understand those who caused the wound in the first place can be the only course of action for catharsis to be achieved."

What a confusing way to say that Din needs closure… That is what she's saying, right?

"Ma'am, I mean, Armorer," you fumble, wincing, "May I ask for more clarification? Are you referring to Din's wound with Castyl?"

The woman looks at you dead on, and you feel like squirming under her visor's gaze. Not the good squirming you get to do when it's your love's visor fixed upon you. Her helmet has an entirely different effect. This is worse than that one time you got sent to the principal's office and subsequently detention.

"A few cycles ago, I received word of a man in Mandalorian armor and his husband living on Batuu," the Armorer declares. "Do with this information what you will."

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

"Yes, what is it?" Din asks, voice similarly weak as he sits with his helmeted head in his gloved hands, elbows resting on his knees. He's sitting at the makeshift table made of crates and scrap material by the galley.

Upstairs, Grogu shrieks with laughter as Klo shouts something about a droid attack, making blaster noises while David Bowie is belting out "Let's Dance" in the background.

Klo screams the phrase, "Get those separatist scum!", and Grogu babbles loudly back in return.

They've been playing something Klo calls "The Clone Wars," and Grogu seems to love it for some odd reason. Din says that Grogu would have been alive during that war, but very young. Perhaps it makes the child nostalgic in some strange way.

"Can we agree that two kids is too many?" You ask with a soft chuckle, moving about the ship to get things ready for breakfast. "Thank God we're not having another."

Din's head lifts, and you get the distinct sensation that he's peering at you through the black visor at the center of his beskar face with mixed emotions.

"Yeah, I suppose two kids is too many." he agrees solemnly.

More solemnly than you would have expected him to sound. It doesn't come off like he's simply just tired from what little sleep the two of you have gotten all week. Whatever this is feels deeper than that.

Grogu has been a restless, hyper little menace ever since leaving the covert. Having another child on board the ship has your own kid completely jacked up. He's only been able to truly sleep when he's physically worn out. It's as if he thinks if he sleeps he'll miss out on something.

You frown. You didn't mean anything by what you said. You were simply trying to commiserate about the week being chaotic and challenging.

"Hey," you say, sitting that God awful cup of swill off to the side as you come to crouch in front of your man. "Did I strike a nerve?"

"No, not really," Din says, looking away.

"That's not what it feels like to me in The Force, Chrome Dome," you tease with a sly grin.

"Sometimes I hate it when you do that," Din groans, beskar shifting as he shakes his head.

"I'm just letting you know that you can't hide much from me," you say, smiling.

"I never could, evidently," Din agrees, and the sensation you feel from him is warm.

"Did my joke about the kids really bother you?" You ask, changing the tone of the conversation with your expression and voice.

He sighs, "I might as well be honest. Yes. It bothered me a little."

Your brow shoots up in surprise. "Oh. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be insensitive. I kind of assumed we were on the same page about that."

"It's okay," Din says softly, "I remember on Nar Shaddaa you told me that you do not like the idea of going through pregnancy."

You blink, searching your memory. "Oh, yeah. I remember that conversation. I suppose I just assumed that, because of Grogu and the creed, you don't care about having a biological kid either. Did I misread you?"

He shrugs. "I don't. Not really. You know my culture values the adoption of foundlings over biological offspring. Before Grogu, I truly didn't think I wanted a child at all."

"Has something changed?" You ask.

He shakes his head confidently. "I don't believe so. I enjoy our life with Grogu, and he is truly enough for me. Another child would change everything. Besides, I would never ask you to go through that if you truly can't stand the thought of it."

"I mean, I don't have to get pregnant. We could always adopt another kid one day if this is really important to you," you offer, though the idea of a second child doesn't sit right with you. Not at this point in your life, at least.

You just became Grogu's mom. You want to focus on life with your boy as much as humanly possible, and you're not sure how you'd be able to do that with another living being also vying for your attention.

"I know," Din says, voice falling into a low growl. Then he shifts in his seat, legs spreading. He places a bare hand on each knee, leaning back as he tilts his head to the side. "But maybe I would want you to get pregnant if we had another."

You glance at his crotch, unable to help yourself, gasping as your eyes bulge just about as big as the tent in his soft gray sleeping pants. "Din!" you whisper-yell, scandalized.

The kids are still loudly playing upstairs, so you know they cannot hear you. But Klo being on board the ship has made things feel, well, cramped. It feels like there's been a kid around every corner for a week straight. One easily could pop up at any moment.

His voice is filled with lust as he beckons you forward with one hand, commanding, "Come here and sit on my lap."

You glance up at the ceiling nervously, then back to him. You practically gulp like a cartoon character, an oversized lump passing down your throat. What's gotten into this crazy Mandalorian?

He sees this, and chuckles, "Don't worry, I'm not insane. We're not going to do anything. I just have something very important to say and I need to make sure you can hear this, because they definitely cannot hear this."

Complying, you quietly climb onto his strong thighs with a hand on each of his muscular shoulders, trying your best not to whimper when you feel his thick length beneath you. You haven't fucked him once since Klo boarded the ship, and your body surely needs it. You and Din are a multiple times a week kind of couple, and that hasn't really died down at all save for the time you were both too sad about possibly giving up Grogu. At this point you're fully addicted to him, and the withdrawal is noticeable.

Din presses you down onto his clothed cock with a hand on either hip, causing a gasp to escape your parted lips as his thumbs dig into you almost painfully. Then his hands slide from that position, one moving to the small of your back while the the other snakes up into your hair, cradling the back of your head. It's long enough to (sort of) put up again, so his bare fingers really get lost in the locks as he's pressing his helmet into the side of your head.

His speaker is right up against your ear, the hiss of his modulated voice causing you to shiver and writhe as he holds you in place. "Can you hear me, cyar'ika?"

"Uh-huh," you say dumbly, nodding against the grip of his hand.

As his strong fingers increase pressure, his hips jerk into you, cock pressing into your clothed entrance. His voice is a low, grumbling whisper meant only for you. "Feel me. Feel what you do to me. I cannot help it, cyar'ika. No one in this galaxy has ever done this to me. Perhaps that is why you had to be brought here from somewhere else. I needed a special woman, not just anyone."

"Shit," you mumble, your own fingers gripping at his black undershirt for dear life. "You have no idea how good that makes me feel, Din. Even if you're just saying it." That last part bubbles up and out from the part of you that’s still the self conscious girl from Earth. She still shows up from time to time, much as you try to keep her hidden away.

"One does not speak unless one knows," Din says seriously. His emotions flare a little as he says it. "That is an integral part of the creed. I do not say things unless I mean them. So listen to me as I tell you what I need to say."

He rocks his hips into you once, twice, three times more, and you swear you cum a little bit just from the friction of it. Maybe that's exaggerating, but a teeny little convulsion rocks your core, causing you to cry out. It sure felt like a tiny orgasm, and you feel as if you'll have to change your underwear after this. Din quickly covers your mouth with the hand that was in your hair, applying pressure.

"Shh," he shushes, laughing. "You're hopeless, you know that? One of these days you're going to get us caught with that slutty fucking mouth of yours."

You grunt against his palm, eyes narrowing playfully as you lick his hand incessantly.

"Ew," he says eventually, yanking his hand back to wipe it on his pants. "That felt weird."

"Yeah, well, your hand was salty," you say, pretending to spit off to the side with a grin.

"Cyar'ika," he says, voice low once again and full of lust. "I need you to be serious with me for a moment. I need to say this. Please."

"Alright, ner verd. Ni sushir." You tell him you're listening in Mando'a just to get the point across that you're in serious mode.

"Vor'e," Din thanks you lovingly, helmet once again pressed to your ear as he cradles your head. The he says something which rocks your entire being, momentarily tilting you off axis.

"I know we could adopt as many children as we want, and I mean it when I say that I would never ask you to go through pregnancy if you truly don't want to. But I would be lying if I said that this hard-on didn't come from envisioning myself filling your sweet cunt with my seed, knowing I put a child in your womb. Maker, the thought of it nearly sends me over the edge every time I think about it. Imagining what it would be like to watch your body change, to see your breasts swell with milk and your belly grow with my offspring inside you. Fuck, cyar'ika. It does something to me I cannot truly express."

The heat this causes in you is incandescent.

"Jesus Christ, Din," you pant, surprised and turned on by this sudden turn of events. What a revelation. "Where is this coming from?"

He shrugs against you. "Me. It's always been here. It's been here from the first moment I ever sank myself into your heat. Every time I've fucked you, it's taken all of my willpower not to fill you up with my cum and hold you down while I watch it leak out of you. What I wouldn't give to see that. Then I'd fuck it back into you and give you another load just to make sure it sticks."

"Fuck," you breathe, body twitching, "That's really hot, Din."

He squeezes you, pulling your hair a little. "But, I respect the fact that it's your body. And that it would make things more complicated than they already are. It's a nice fantasy, and that's all it ever has to be."

"I," you pause, unsure of how to respond, distracted by the whirlpool in your core. If only the kids were anywhere else right now. How are you going to survive the severe drought for the rest of this trip to Rodia?

Today's the last day, but still. This is torture.

"You don't have to say anything, love," Din says bashfully, moving some of the two-toned hair from your face as he lifts up to look at you.

"I want to speak," you say gently. "It's just that, I don't know what to say. You've got me feeling a lot of mixed emotions here, Djarin."

"Well, what are you feeling?" Din gently encourages, though he sounds nervous.

Here goes nothing, you think, feeling nervous yourself as you admit, "Until recently, the idea of ever getting pregnant used to make me feel physically ill with anxiety. But after hearing you say this… I don't know. I don't think you've necessarily changed my mind, but I feel something… different. Good different."

"I feel as if I've started a conversation far too serious to be had before breakfast," Din says, deflecting. He shifts his gaze, head shifting along with it.

He's downright terrified to talk about this all of the sudden. You feel it clear as day.

Well too bad, Chrome Dome. You started it, You think with a wry smile, amused by both yourself and this strange morning encounter.

You move his head back to center and press your forehead to his beskar. "No, it's okay. Really. I think this is a good conversation. And a little sexy," you add with a wink.

His tone is less playful, taking on a serious cadence. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. It's your body. You're the one who would have to suffer through growing a child for nine months. And then to give birth at the end of it," Din shudders, "I understand why it doesn't sound appealing. All I would have to do is fuck you. The trade off doesn't exactly seem fair."

You grow a little more serious as well. "I mean, it's not. Which is one of the reasons the concept has always bothered me. But you're not making me uncomfortable, Din. I've actually thought about this quite a bit too, you know."

"You have?" His voice sounds surprised. And is that a hint of hope you detect?

"Duh, Chrome Dome. First off all, I have to worry about it every time we have sex," you tell him with a laugh.

"Has this dampened your enjoyment of our intimacy?" Din asks, clearly worried.

You shake your head and squeeze his arms. "Never. I have a great time, every time. That is just part of the routine for me. My body never did well with birth control on Earth, and I don't even want to know what the options are out here. So I just always make sure I know where you're cumming, if you get what I mean. It's not that big of a deal. I'm used to it."

"Mm," Din hums thoughtfully. "What's the 'second of all' part of this?"

Bracing yourself, you tell him, "Second of all… I don't know. You know my parents hated each other because they felt forced into having me. I guess I was always so afraid of getting pregnant when I was younger because, aside from the blatant body horror aspect, I never felt confident that I'd find anyone to be the right kind of partner I would need to help me through it. Miracle of life and joy of motherhood aside, it seems like a traumatic, life altering experience. Some women have a really hard time with it. My mom certainly did and, legend has it, my dad was either never around or awful to her when he was. I'd need a truly good, strong person by my side if I was going to have a baby. And I didn't know what kind of a person that was until I met you, Din."

"Cyar'ika," Din breathes, voice hitching.

You notice that his hard-on has gone down a little, but his emotions are so intertwined with yours in this moment. A new, less naughty feeling of love stirs within him.

Looking right into the visor, you decide to be brave and tell him something that you didn't realize was kind of a big deal until now. "While we are being honest about this, I'd like to tell you that we've had two scares since we started sleeping together and I never told you about it. I wasn't consciously keeping anything from you. It just wasn't something I felt like needed sharing at the time."

He sounds confused, "What do you mean?"

Shyly, you explain, "Twice now I've gotten my period a few days later than I expected to. The first time was immediately after we, well, consummated things. I spent two whole days convincing myself that I was pregnant. Two days making myself sick with worry over what to do, and then I started bleeding on the third day and everything was fine so I just moved on and never told you about it."

"When was the second time?" Din asks.

"Two periods ago," you say, more shyness taking over as you prepare to admit the thing to him that you told yourself you were crazy for feeling. The thing you wrote off as a hormonal overload thanks to recently becoming a real mom and having so many emotional ups and downs in your life all at once.

"What happened that time?"

You breathe deeply through your nose, exhaling loudly. "The same thing, but only at first. My period was nearly four days late that time. I panicked about it for a few hours but then I relaxed. By the second day, I started to feel less scared about the physical part and more nervous about how you and Grogu would react if it really was a baby and not just my body playing tricks on me. On the third day, before I ended up bleeding that night, I spent most of the day giving very serious thought to what I would do if it really was a pregnancy."

Din sounds vulnerable, asking quietly, "What conclusion did you come to, if any?"

Looking into his visor once more, you melt your body into his as much as possible, fingers playing with the little bit of hair you feel at the back of his neck under the helmet.

In a sultry voice, you smile sweetly and tell him, "I came to the conclusion that I would be really fucking scared, but I would also be really fucking honored to carry our child. On Earth, without you, I would have it terminated. But that's not how I feel anymore. If we do ever manage to accidentally put a kid in me one day, I'm confident I'd want to keep it."

Din let's out a breath. One you can't help but feel he'd been holding it in, bracing for your response.

"Cyare," he intones lovingly, squeezing you hard. "If only you knew what this does to me."

"I think I have a little bit of an idea," you say cheekily, wiggling your hips.

He growls in response, grinding his own hips into yours even though the bulge is nearly gone now.

With soft little moan, you go on, "When my period finally started, I remember feeling a weird pang of disappointment for most of the following day. I figured my hormones were making me think crazy thoughts. I couldn't quite believe it, honestly. When we first met, I never would have thought that my mind could change about this. I'm still not really saying I want to get pregnant, or that I've changed my mind completely."

"I don't need you to change your mind," Din says seriously. "Our family is enough."

"I know," you smile, "And I'm not. But if it ever happens by accident, I think it would be a happy accident. After the initial mental breakdown, of course."

"Cyar'ika," Din mutters softly, "you amaze me every single day. If that ever happens to us, I would be by your side every moment. I would make sure that you and our child are wanting for nothing."

"Your husband side is showing, darling," you laugh, rubbing your nose into his beskar.

"Mm," Din hums, "I'd need to make you my wife for that to be true. Soon. I promise."

"I'm not rushing you," you say awkwardly, worried you've come off too strong. After he started the baby conversation? Give yourself a break, you think.

Din sounds so handsome to you, "I never thought you were. I'm saying I'm ready for us to truly be riduurs. But let me ask for your hand when the time is right."

"Din," you breathe, leaning in towards him.

Upstairs, Grogu makes a crazy sounding noise, and the entire ship shakes violently as the lights flash. Jupiter gives a feline yowl of disapproval from where ever she may be, you gasp, and Din groans with frustration.

"And right now is not the right time. We'll talk more after we drop off our house guest," Din says, moving you off of him as he stands and walks over to the ladder. As he begins the climb upward, he shouts in his authoritative dad voice, "Boys! What the hell is going on up there?!"

"Sorry, Mr. Djarin!" Klo shouts down, voice full a child's mischief.

You can't help but grin, stomach stirring with the strange uncertainty of emotions you don't yet understand as you contemplate the morning's wild conversation. You place a hand over your belly, thinking for a fraction of a nanosecond that pregnancy may not sound so bad after all, and then you shake your head profusely.

"What has gotten into you, woman?" You wonder out loud, downing the rest of the terrible, and now ice cold, caf with a grimace.

Din Djarin and his magical Mandalorian space penis have made you go insane, that's what.

*****

Klo's a nice enough boy, but by the time they reach Rodia, Din's very ready to drop him off with his extended family. Din needs things for his own family to go somewhat back to normal. He knows things are never truly the same after big new life experiences, but he gets the sense that things will be normal enough.

For one thing, Grogu's behavior has been terrible. He truly does thrive on consistency in his routine, and you've been at your whits end with him for days. Din's been more lenient on the kid, mostly because he knows it's not really Grogu's fault that things feel disrupted and the boy is not mature enough to process it.

Klo is also a bit of a bad influence in all honesty. He's Ragnar's best friend, after all. The two of them must have caused plenty of mischief together, in their old lives before the virus took their families.

For another thing, if Din can't sink himself into your cunt soon, he's liable to detonate like the charges in his utility belt. He needs to drag you up into the cockpit by the hair and make up for a weeks worth of lost time, to fuck you mercilessly until you cry out from the sensitivity and beg for him to stop.

Fuck, Din thinks, trying desperately not to let another hard-on form. This is not the time to have his body betray him. He really should have taken care of himself in the fresher after the impromptu pregnancy conversation, but he never found the right moment to slip away.

You and the kids are seated behind him up in the cockpit, and he's got to get this bucket of bolts he loves so dearly safely into Rodia's humid atmosphere after he gets cleared for landing. He needs to focus.

"Arg! Need me to sail the ship into port for ye, Capt'n?" You ask in one of your silly Earth voices from his back left side, "Yer first matey here thinks ye be a bit, errr, distracted down in the depths of Davy Jones' locker if ye catch my meaning."

Off to the right side, Klo whispers to Grogu, "Your mom is really weird."

To which Grogu chirps in response and yells, "Ma!"

Din sighs, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Of course, you must be able to feel his arousal with your ability and are choosing a terrible moment, and method, to let him know.

He doesn't turn to look at you, saying your name in a low voice with a commanding, "Stop."

"Alright, fine. I won't tease you," you say with a giggle. "At least not until later."

"Just remember that I'll remember this, love. Don't be a brat," Din says with a playfully warning tone.

Before anything else can be said in the banter between you, a voice over the Crest's radio interrupts, asking in basic for the ship's credentials and their reason for travel. Din gives the needed information, and the Razor Crest gets cleared.

Once on the stiflingly stuffy green jungle planet, in the capitol city of Iskaayuma, the group is quickly met in the public landing bay, as planned, by an older female Rodian leading another female, younger than Klo it would seem, by the hand. Each is a slightly different shade of green than the other, both darker than Klo slightly.

The alien woman is indeed Klo's aunt, with the little one being Klo's cousin. Din's been in communication with her ever since they reached this solar system and Klo was able to provide enough information for the alien woman to be contacted. After thanking Din and his family for getting the boy back to the planet safely, Grogu and Klo exchange their children's goodbyes, and the kid goes off with his own kind, walking down a path which no longer intertwines with that of the Mandalorian or his unlikely family.

As he watches the boy walk off with his loved ones, Din thinks about the fact that this could have easily been how things ended with Grogu. If he and his boy hadn't become so attached to one another, Din may have watched Grogu be carried off by Ahsoka that day. He would be living a nearly empty life right now without his son by his side.

Din had been so prepared on that day to feel his heart shatter with every dissipating crunch of the Jedi's boots on the forest ground, to be so unsure as to what direction his life was to go in after such a great loss.

But, that's not how things went with Grogu. He's here, floating beside Din in the pram, he calls Din "Da" nowadays, and Din knows exactly what direction he wants his life to go in after having gained so much.

Right then and a there, Din feels the truth in his heart that if Ahsoka had taken Grogu that day on Corvus, he would have shown Grogu his face. He wouldn't have been able to live the rest of his life knowing that the kid never got a chance to see him. To know him.

But what does that mean, then? If Grogu is now a permanent part of Din's life, and Din is aware that he doesn't want that life to pass him by without his son ever knowing his face, then what does that actually mean?

Do you even want to be a Mandalorian anymore? He asks himself, mind full of murky turmoil as his stomach twists fiercely inside his body.

"You feel very complicated right now, ner verd," you say softly beside him, taking his gloved hand.

"I do feel very complicated, cyar'ika," he replies, unsure of himself as he strokes Grogu's head lovingly with his free hand.

"And that's okay," you smile up at him, setting him straight once again with that same kind look in your eyes that first grabbed his attention over a cycle ago on Nevarro. Din feels himself balanced once more as you add, "You don't have to feel any certain way, Din. I just hope you're alright. But you do need to show us this new planet and find us something to eat. I'm starving, and you know Grogu is always ready for another meal."

Chuckling, Din pulls you into him for a keldabe kiss. Whispering, he keeps his voice low, "I know what meal I desire. I'm ready to devour you."

"Din," you breathe, eyes widening comically. "You're incorrigible!"

"And you're irresistible when I've been kept from your body for far too many nights." Din intones huskily.

In the pram, Grogu grunts up at his parents with disapproval. "Da!" He yells at Din, eyes narrowed.

You laugh, "I think he's mad that you're not more worried about real food, Din."

"I'd starve for a century if it meant I still got to taste you every night," Din says quietly in your ear, making sure that Grogu still cannot hear him.

He's pleased by the shade of crimson you turn, smiling to himself as he says at normal volume, "But you're right. Let's get him some food and resume this conversation later."

*****

Later couldn't come fast enough, and apparently neither can Din. Once the Razor Crest is back in open space and the one and only child aboard the ship has been put to bed for the night, Din finds himself up in the cockpit on the verge of ejaculating prematurely.

Being ridden like a blurrg in the pilots seat, Din's ready to cum and you two just got started. He's been so pent up over the last few days, and the feeling of you sinking your hot, soaking cunt onto his aching cock while your tits bounce in his helmeted face is nearly too much for him.

"Fuck," he grunts, pushing you off of him, "stop."

"What's wrong?" You ask, voice filled with self-conscious worry as you lift off of him. "Is it me? Did I do something?"

The breeze to his dick sobers him up a little, and he chuckles huskily, moving the damp hair from your face, wishing he had the freedom to kiss you. "Yes, it was you. Your pussy felt like a dream come true, cyar'ika. I just don't want to finish too soon and end our time together too quickly. We've waited days for this opportunity."

Realizing that you were the problem, but in a good way, you visibly relax. Din's pleased to see that side of you ebb away, glad that his warrior is back with him.

Then a cheeky smirk finds your lips, and Din wants to slap the haughty look off of your face with his cock before making you choke on it. He can always tell when you're about to cause mischief. You do this thing with your mouth where you purse your lips awkwardly like you're trying so hard not to smirk, and it never works. The impish grin always bursts through.

With a hand on either armrest, you lean over Din's naked form with your own, breasts once again in his covered face. Without thinking, Din's hands find their way home, groping at the soft weight of your chest as he looks right into your eyes through the visor.

In a low voice you say, "You know, if you finish too soon you might not pull out in time. If you're not careful, you could knock me up. We wouldn't want that. Would we, Daddy?"

Din's dick throbs.

Your grin for him is so mischievous. "Oh, so you do like that, don't you? I knew I felt sexually charged emotion from you when I called you that the other day. Well, Daddy, try not to cum too soon. You think you can do that for me?"

"Cyar'ika," he warns, applying pressure to the flesh he's holding. Then the thumb and forefinger of each hand move to tweak at the peaked nipples being presented to him. When you cry out from the sensation, he licks his lips. "You need to watch yourself. I can't be held responsible for what I'll do to you if you send me over the edge."

"What would you do to me if you did go over the edge, handsome?" You ask, voice sickly sweet.

Din leans forward as his hands move, and one grips your hair hard as the other moves to palm your cunt. He smirks when he easily hooks three fingers into your moisture and pulls you a few inches towards him using your own vagina, impressed by his own spontaneous move.

You let out a sharp gasp, eyes going wide as he does this to you. A gasp which instantly lets him know you like it.

Din growls, "Remember when I told you that I'd hold you down and watch my cum leak out of you?"

You nod dumbly, mouth hanging open a little, "Uh-huh."

"Words, cyar'ika. I want words," Din commands lightly, smirk morphing into a full blown smile. He loves it when things take a dominant turn like this. "I know I make it hard to think sometimes, but I need you to try for me. Now I'll ask you again; Remember when I told you that I'd hold you down and watch my cum leak out of you?"

You nod, wide-eyed and whimpering as he pumps and wiggles the fingers lodged inside of you, adding the motion of his thumb against your clit.

Din wishes you could see the absolute wickedness of his grin. "Words, love. I'm losing my patience. You really don't want that to happen. Trust me."

Your entire body twitches as you blurt, "I remember, Din! Is that what you would do to me?"

Din nods, suddenly removing his hand from your pussy, presenting his three glistening digits to your parted lips. Without being prompted, you lean forward and hungrily take them into your mouth, suckling him clean of your own juices as you whine.

"That's a good girl," Din praises, knowing how much you thrive on the concept. Then he tells you, "And I wouldn't just fuck one more load into you, cyar'ika. I'm so stocked up tonight, I'd pump a third into you. Maybe a fourth. And I'd go to bed hoping that the next time your period is late, it doesn't come at all."

You moan against his fingers, convulsing as if you've cum from his words alone. Din's hand leaves your mouth, guiding you up straight as he rises from his seat. He towers over you as the two of you stand naked in the center of the small cockpit. Din slips a hand to the back of your neck and turns you, moving you over to your seat as you willingly allow him to manipulate your body, all the while wearing the most gorgeous smile meant only for him. He bends you over, hinging you at the waist as he moves either of your hands to rest on the seat itself, propping you up.

"Alright," Din begins, slapping your ass on either cheek. "I"m going to blindfold you, cyar'ika. Then the fun can really begin."

"God, yes, please," you murmur, unmoving from the position he's left you in.

Din leans over you as he pulls the pink fabric down from the headrest, pressing his cock into the crack of your ass as he does so, enjoying the way it makes you wriggle and moan. Once he's got the scarf in either hand, he ensures it's folded properly before lowering it in front of your face. Dutifully, you do not turn around to look at him and continue facing forward.

"Do you trust me, cyare?"

"Always, ner verd. For the rest of my life."

Din gently places the fabric over your eyes, making sure to be careful tying the knot behind your head now that your hair is longer. Once he's sure it's secure, he asks as much but in Mando'a. "Megin liser gar haa'taylir?"

"Naas," you reply instantly.

Din's love for you surges, proud of how well you've taken to speaking Mando'a. He's proud of how well you've taken to just about everything in your new life here, in this dangerous galaxy with him and the child you both already share.

Slowly, he lifts the helmet from his head, sitting it gently in his pilots seat. When his face is finally free of beskar he breathes a small sigh of relief, raking both hands through his hair to get it out of the flattened position it's been stuck in all day. He always hates how it gets pressed down to his scalp. Helmet hair, as the other Mandos call it. He shakes his head, and the wavy locks fall back into place, but fluffed out a little more.

When he looks at you, he's pleased to see you haven't moved a muscle, and the way your glistening pussy pulses as you tremble with anticipation causes the blood to begin flowing into his cock once more. He strokes himself a few times just to help keep it aroused, then drops down to one knee in front of your bent body and spreads your cheeks, pressing his tongue to your exposed ass without warning.

You jerk forward, squealing with surprise, "Din!"

"Shh," he coos between licks, lapping at your sensitive ring as his arms come to wrap around your thighs and hold you in place. Then he slips the slick muscle down and into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue for a few pumps before moving on to give some attention to your clit.

"Ner verd," you moan wantonly, and not long after you're grinding your entire crotch hard into his face as you cum all over him.

"Good girl," Din praises, wiping his wet face onto your trembling thigh. His mustache must tickle you, because you laugh and try to move away. "You're not getting off that easy," he grunts, pulling himself up so that he can position himself at your entrance. "It's my turn, cyar'ika."

Din watches with joy, happy to have this sight be seen purely through his own eyes and not a Mandalorian display screen, as the dark swollen head of his cock pushes out of his foreskin and slowly into the slick opening of his lover's cunt. The wet sound it makes is exquisite, and that little bit of initial natural resistance to intrusion from your body causes him to moan hoarsely. You squeeze him hard, and he sinks into you all the way, bending over to lay his bare face on your upper back while he enjoys the pleasure of your bodies being connected at such an angle. And, frankly, to not have any beskar in his way.

"Your body feels so good," he remarks out loud, kissing up and down your spine while his hands reach under to grip tenderly at your breasts again.

"So does yours," you moan, "I love you."

"I love you too," he agrees, grinning against your flesh.

After that Din begins truly fucking you. Bucking into your hips hard, bottoming out in each thrust. His balls slap loudly into your clit, and Din sees how hard your fingers are gripping the seat in response, indenting into the dark red leather while indistinguishable noises of pleasure leave your gaping mouth.

He pounds into you with everything he's got, until you ask him suddenly in a small voice, "You're not really going to cum in me, are you?"

Din stops moving, grip loosening on your hips as he frowns. "Cyar'ika, no. Never without your permission. I thought we were playing."

"We are, I just got nervous for second," you say bashfully, burying your blindfolded head into the chair, presumably to hide your face even though half of it is already covered. "Sorry," you mutter, the sound muffled.

"Don't ever apologize while I'm inside you," Din reprimands lightly, wishing you could see his kind smile as his lips tug back upwards. "You have every right to worry about your body."

"Always the respectful Mandalorian. I should never doubt you." You begin backing up onto him, grinding yourself on his cock, muscles squeezing.

Din moans, beginning the motion of sex once more as he grips your body again. "You really shouldn't," he agrees playfully.

"Harder," you command, grunting and groaning with the top of your head pressed into the center of the backrest.

Din complies, pumping vigorously for several minutes. He bites, licks, squeezes, pinches, and tickles whatever parts of you he can reach, with whatever parts of himself he's able to use. He even presses the pad of his thumb into your ass a few times, teasing you and hoping you'll wonder if he's on to that hole next now that it's on the table. All the while you writhe and cry out in ecstasy, and it's music to his uncovered ears.

As he's moving his hands up and down your back, digging his nails in slightly, he's shocked to hear you suddenly cry out, "Oh, God, Din! Some crazy part of me actually wants you to just fucking do it."

He stops again, brows raised in surprise as he looks your body over. "Really?"

You turn to "look" at him despite the blindfold keeping you from actually doing so. "Yeah, it really turns me on. Is that fucked up?"

"Of course not," Din muses.

He pulls out of you, moving your body from the chair down to lay on your back across the blanket you laid out earlier. He parts your legs, your hands reaching for him as he climbs on top of you and gets repositioned at your opening. As he slides back into you with one smooth motion, he asks, "What about it turns you on?"

"Everything you said earlier," you say, grunting and smiling as you wiggle your hips to get adjusted to him at this angle. As you usually do when blindfolded, you begin feeling his face all over with your soft fingertips. "Plus," you continue, "Getting pregnant really still scares the shit out of me. I think the fact that it's scary is what turns me on, though."

"That sounds normal to me," Din says fondly, pumping into you slowly, affectionately. "Sometimes fear can be a nice thrill as well."

You make a face then, and even with your eyes obscured from him Din knows you wanted to say something and stopped yourself. The way you scrunch your mouth to the side is a dead give away.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything, Chrome Dome." You lift up to kiss him, clearly deflecting.

"You wanted to, though," Din says playfully after pecking you once, not playing into it. "What was it?"

Shaking your head, you wrap your legs around his waist and and your hands grab his biceps. Din feels you use the leverage to push his cock the littlest bit deeper as your walls clench him. "I don't want to offend you or anything, Din. It's just a silly thought, that's all."

Whining at first from the sensations you're causing, Din pinches one of your nipples and pulls out his commanding voice once more. "Tell me the thought, cyar'ika."

Giggling, you seem to enjoy that from him. Then you let out a breath, saying, "Just… I had a thought after our conversation today that if we did have a biological kid, it could kind of be my own way of knowing what you look like."

Din is gutted by your statement. He halts his hips for a moment, though he doesn't pull out. So many things assault his mind all at once, so many racing thoughts.

You frown, propping yourself up on your forearms. "Dammit, I'm sorry. I just killed the mood, didn't I? Fuck. Your emotions feel like a wild animal in a cage, Din. I'm really sorry."

Din's heart is thundering in his chest, and for a split second his hand begins reaching for your blindfold, ready to snatch it from your head and let you see him once and for all. He's so tired of this subject dominating his mind.

But his hand instead moves to cup your cheek, and he touches his nose to yours as he swipes an arm under your lifted back, holding you to him while his other arm stays propped.

"What did I just say about apologizing while I'm inside you?" Din tries to say playfully, trying to force himself back into the mindset from a moment ago.

He doesn't want you to worry that you've ruined this experience, which he knows you're actively doing. So he's kissing you hard, tongue darting into your mouth as he picks up the pace with you once more.

"Oh!" You yelp with surprise after Din breaks the kiss, clinging to him as he lays your upper back down and lifts your hips off the ground instead, pounding into you. "Won't happen again," you say, panting.

Din smirks, panting as well and feeling more like himself as he says, "That's edging on an apology. Maybe you just need to stop talking for a little bit."

His hand covers your mouth, a move he's used on you many times and a move which usually makes your eyes roll back into your head as you clench him even harder. He's not sure about your eyes, but when it comes to the clenching you deliver tenfold, and he feels himself on the verge of orgasm from the pressure you create with your beautiful body.

As his pleasure steadily builds, he moves to lick your neck, thrusting and saying, "You can nod for yes or no, but am I putting this cum in you or not, cyar'ika? It's your choice, but you better decide fucking fast."

You make a wild noise behind his palm, breath leaving your nostrils rapidly. After a moment, to Din's jaw-dropping shock, you nod.

"Oh, fuck," Din groans, nearly climaxing from your permission alone. But he holds out for a few seconds longer to ask, "And you're one hundred percent sure?"

You nod against his hand once again, this time vigorously, and Din loses all will power to hold back as he pumps into you maybe the hardest he ever has. You squeal beneath him, just as he's emptying himself into your inviting cunt for the very first time. He cradles you to him as he fills you completely, crying out at the sensations overtaking his body. This feels so much better than your mouth, or jerking off onto your breasts.

When he's spent, he lays you back down beneath him as if you're made of the most fragile materials, guiding your legs so that you're hugging your knees to your chest as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your twitching pussy. He removes his hand from your mouth enjoying your whimpers as you open and close your lips, breath heaving in your chest.

Din kisses both of your thighs. He watches your vagina contract, smiling broadly as a little glob of his sperm begins to surface from your pulsing depths, creamy fluid a contrast to the swollen pink flesh. He reaches an index finger to dip into you, playing with it. "You should hear yourself. Such slutty noises for me. How do you feel, knowing my cum is inside you?"

Whining, you answer, "Dirty. Good dirty, but fucking dirty. Like a crazy slut for letting a man do that to me, taking such a huge risk just for such a quick turn on. Fuck, and I am so fucking turned on right now, Din."

"If only you could see it," Din muses. "You look gorgeous with my cum in you, cyar'ika." She'd look even better without that blindfold, his treasonous mind thinks, and he shoves the thought away.

To distract himself, Din leans down to lick the up some of his seed, enjoying his taste mixed with yours as he traces the line of your slit.

Bucking into him, you squeak, "Are you eating it out of me?"

"Do you need a taste too? We taste good together, love." He says adoringly against your cunt, dipping his finger in deeper to collect more of himself. Then hes moving his hand up to your mouth, and you eagerly take in the covered appendage.

"You're right," you say after releasing his finger with a pop, smiling all the while. "Yum."

"I don't think I have more in me tonight, cyar'ika. That was, mostly, all talk. But I think you have more to give," Din says wickedly, moving down between your legs once more.

As he tries to ignore the turmoil within him by bringing you to another uproarious orgasm, he focuses on the pleasurable taste of himself leaking from inside your body during every possible moment of the experience. All the while, deep in the back of his mind, he's so very conflicted over the choice to show you his face or not.

*****

The information the armorer gave you as to Castyl Vanda's whereabouts has been eating away at you for the better part of nearly two weeks. Worse even more when you consider what a good mood Din has been in lately. Although he's clearly still feeling mixed emotions about the confession he made regarding his helmet, Din's energy is so light and full of life most of the time. Which has made it hard for you to find the right moment to tell him. At first you were waiting for Klo to get dropped off, but now it's been a few days since he left and you're feeling like this information needs to be surgically removed from your chest.

So when Din happily spins around in his pilots seat with a vast star field as the backdrop to his gorgeous silver image, your stomach lurches as he asks you where you think Clan Mudhorn should go next.

"Tatooine to visit Peli and Richard? Nevarro to see what awaits us there? Someplace you haven't seen yet? Now that Klo's been dropped off, we have no obligations to anyone. No mission, just our life together as a clan of three." His body seems visibly relaxed as he throws out options.

Jupiter meows up at him from her napping perch on his plated thighs, and with a chuckle Din adds, "Four, actually."

As much as the moment between Din and your cat makes your heart swell You start to speak and stop yourself. He notices.

He shifts his head, sitting up a little. Feels like there's suddenly a frown under that helmet, too. "What is it, cyare? You know I can tell when you're not saying something."

A jolt of fear strikes your heart then. Old, ancient fear leftover from your abusive childhood. When being your truest self never felt like an option. When everything you did was either too much or not enough for your ex-grandmother. When your parents made you feel solely responsible for their hard feelings, or blamed you when things didn't go right. When, even fully grown, you felt incredibly small, and sharing difficult information that you knew would affect another person felt impossible because it immediately put you in the line of fire. Back then, your emotional security was more important to you than healthy relationships.

But that was what feels like a lifetime ago, in a galaxy far far away from this one you now call home. That was when you didn't realize you had the heart of Mandalorian beating in your chest all along, before you learned that your value is far greater than what the people back on Earth were able to see. Value that is seen so vividly by the Mandalorian you now love, and the child you now call your own.

With a deep breath to steady yourself, you choose to trust him. Trusting him has gotten you this far, hasn't it? "I'm worried you'll be a little pissed off at me for not telling you this sooner, but the Armorer gave me some information before we left the covert and I've been trying to find the right time to tell you."

Dins shoulders square every so slightly, head tilting. "When have I ever truly been pissed off at you?"

You can't help but smile at that. "True. Which is why I'm trusting that you won't. You do have every right to get upset with me about things, I'd just like to avoid it when I can. Or talk it through if you do. Anyway, I just didn't think it was a good idea to tell you this particular thing while we had Klo on board the ship and a moment hadn't presented itself until now. It's a pretty big deal, Din."

"What information did the Armorer give you?" He asks evenly.

Here goes nothing, you think. "She told me Castyl's last known whereabouts. He's on Batuu, last she heard."

Din doesn't respond. He sits there for a moment, looking right at you as his silver head slowly bobs in a nod of understanding and contemplation. Then, wordlessly, he spins the pilot seat sound and starts punching things you can't really see into the control panel. Coordinates, maybe?

The ship begins to shift. Okay, so, coordinates.

"Thank you for telling me," Din says kindly, ending his sentence with your name as he looks over his shoulder at you. You feel the love flowing through him as he says it.

Confused about his lack of negative feelings, you ask, "Din? You good?"

"I am," he says calmly.

"Where are we going?"

"Batuu," he replies.

Feeling your brow lift, you ask, "To look for Castyl?"

He spins the chair back around to face you, visor making "eye" contact. His voice is surprisingly light, "That… I don't know yet. But my mesh'la girl is still craving chocolate, isn't she?"

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

Din feels the droid holding him in place lift the beskar from his head, and his eyes instantly lock with yours from across the room. 

After years of being careful, years of life together without his creed ever having been broken, you’re finally seeing his face for the first time. Unfortunately, it is against his will. Held captive by an enemy. 

While the two Hutt twins taunt him in their language, all Din can focus on is the anguish and confusion in your face as tears stream down your plump, flushed cheeks. You mouth the phrase, “I’m so sorry,” and Din’s heart breaks at the sight of it. If only you knew that this was his deepest darkest desire. Even now in this dangerous situation he feels relieved to have you finally see him, no matter how wrong it may be.

His enemy seems to notice that he hasn't been paying attention to them, and the male Hutt laughs evilly.

"You wear your weaknesses on your face, Mandalorian," the male slug chides, "How shameful this must be for you."

The female Hutt laughs wickedly, "How does it feel for your beloved wife to finally see your face, only moments before you die."

The thick chain attached to the metal cuff around your neck suddenly pulls taught, and Din glares viciously at the Hutts as the sister-slug yanks you up onto her gigantic body. She begins fondling you all over, much to Din's dismay. You look as if you’re going to gag. 

He’s heard about the slaves of various species that the Hutts like to keep around for pleasure, but he never once would have imagined you in such a position. They have you dressed scantily with your arms and ankles shackled, and a thick metal collar around your neck.

Under entirely different circumstances, Din would be ready to tear what little fabric there is from your body and take you right then and there. Under these circumstances, however, he's ready to kill these creatures and bathe in their blood for doing this to you. To his family.

The Hutts finally get Din's attention when the male adds, "Yes, how does it feel to know you failed her, just like you failed our nephew?" He gestures off to the side of the chamber, where another Hutt is bound and unconscious.

Din angrily seethes the word, "Monsters." 

The male Hutt, the uncle, then proceeds to threaten Grogu's well being. Grogu, who as far as Din knows, is still back home on Nevarro and probably scared out of his mind without his two parents. 

A blind rage pushes Din to rise, the warrior in him ready for another round of combat even after the horridly long day he's had. But then the ground beneath his feet gives way, and he’s falling to some unknown fate in the murky waters below as the Hutts laugh and you scream.

Yet, instead of hitting water, his body hits… the cot?

*****

You’ve been awake for the last few minutes, but you haven’t moved to get up yet. Instead, you’ve been feeling Din twitch and writhe against you, listening with mild concern as he whimpers and moans inside his helmet behind your head. His energy is swirling around yours fearfully within The Force, and you're certain that's what woke you in the first place.

You jump with surprise as his entire body suddenly jerks violently and he shrieks himself awake. He starts grabbing for you so hard you’re worried he’ll leave finger-shaped bruises behind.

“Jesus, Din. Are you alright?” You ask, turning your body as much as you can to face him in the cramped sleeping cabin. You flick the overhead control and the lights come on, but only very dimly. With a hand to the side of his trembling beskar, you proclaim, "you must have been having a nightmare, darling. It's alright. You're here with me in our bed. You're safe on the Crest."

Din nods, deep breaths heaving in his chest. "Shit, that felt so real." He pants your name, and the broken sound nearly breaks you.

You shush him, and soothingly run your hands over his shoulders, down his arms and back, trying to show him through your touch that this is reality.

"You're here. We're here. We're safe," you tell him, assertively.

"Where's Grogu?" he croaks, looking around and above himself.

The child in question peeks his little head over the side of his hammock at the sound of his name. He looks so cute dangling a few feet above your laid out bodies in the cot, making his signature little “patu” noise. The kid then proceeds to hop down and land on his bottom, right smack dab on the chest of his father. Luckily, Din’s been in the habit of sleeping without his armor on for months now, so the child lands safely on Din’s actual chest with a thud. Jupiter follows suit and lands gracefully on your thighs.

“Umph,” Din grunts, chuckling happily as an arm encircles the kid. “Love you so much, kiddo. I’m glad you’re safe, too.”

"That must have been a really awful dream," you say, hand grazing Grogu's head as you look at Din with worry in your heart. "I could feel your dread."

Your cosmic companion nods, sitting up a little. Grogu shifts, sliding down onto his father's belly, and you can't help but smile fondly at the domestic sight of it as Din responds. “It was so vivid, like I was really there living it.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?” You ask tentatively, knowing full-well that the subject could be entirely too sensitive to share. For a moment, you brace yourself for him to tell you it was a dream about his ex-mentor, a subject which you're still kicking yourself for bringing up after his intense reaction to it the other day.

Din nods once, and then begins, “It started with you and I being captured and taken to Nal Hutta by a bounty hunter hired by the Hutts. Grogu was fine, I think, but they…" Din pauses and you see him swallow before continuing, "they took us away from him. They were angry at me for saving their nephew instead of turning him in for the bounty they hired me for. I'm not sure why I was working for them, though. That part was unclear. All I know is I made the call to set the kid free and they punished us for it. They removed my helmet in front of you to shame me. They had you chained up and dressed as a pleasure slave. I believe they were going to force you to watch me die before they had their way with you."

Your eyes go wide and your hands struggle to cover Grogu's ears. "Oh, my god! Din!"

Grogu whines and shakes his head, batting at your hands with his tiny claws.

"Okay, okay, sorry! Here," you shift and set Jupiter in front of the child. "Play with Jupiter and maybe don't listen to this part."

Din chuckles, and you are slightly relieved that he can make light of the horror his mind had shown him now. You shoot him a narrow look and mouth the words, "Pleasure slave?!"

Din nods, shrugging. "Unfortunately, not uncommon on the outer rim."

You shudder. "That certainly sounds like a nightmare."

Din agrees, sighing as he leans his helmeted head against the wall. It makes the tiniest of clunking noises, and you don't fight the little tug at the corner of your mouth.

"I mean," you say, playfully, "I'm all for the kinky stuff, but only in the right scenario."

The black T you know so well tilts to look right at you then, and the air around him shifts. He huffs a little laugh through the speaker and he says, in a low tone, "The outfit they had you in was pretty good, I have to admit. With the chains and the collar, too." He grunts and your face flushes.

Laughing, you shove at him and try to ignore the little flare of heat he's caused to stir within your core. "That's it, I'm putting a pin in this conversation for when we are not surrounded by our pointy eared children!"

"Fair," Din agrees wit a hearty laugh.

With a shake of the head and a grin you move to pay more attention to your son and your cat, stroking Jupiter's fur coat as you ask your child, "Never mind dad's silly nightmare. What did you dream about, Green Bean?"

Grogu coos up at you, and in a moment you could have never in a million years thought was about to happen, he points right at Din and says, "Da," with a huge smile on his tiny face.

Din's head whips down to look at Grogu with a sharp intake of breath. All at once your heart swells so hard in your chest that it nearly knocks you backwards.

Slack jawed and voice full of wonder, you look at the boy with such affection flowing through your feelings into his in The Force. "Grogu did you just speak?"

Grogu nods, confirming this, as he looks at Din with open and closing grabby hands. "Da!"

Din scoops the boy up immediately, holding Grogu to his chest. "I… are you really saying 'dad,' buddy?"

"Think he is, Din. It feels that way to me," you confirm, noting the hard swell of emotions suddenly pouring from your partner.

"Why not my name, though?" He wonders out loud, visor looking to you.

Smiling, you reach over to rub Grogu's upper back. "Because he knows you as 'dad' now, Din. That is your name to him."

Again Grogu blatantly nods, and you feel his pride ripple through the Force with more strength than anything you've felt from him before. "Da!"

Din's heart swells, the feeling of it nearly palpable to you as he asks the boy, "Were you dreaming about me, buddy? Is that really the answer to your mom's question?"

Grogu nods enthusiastically, shouting, "Da!"

"Who's that holding you, sweetheart? Your Daddy?"

"Da! Da!" Grogu yells happily, snuggling hard into Din.

"Great job, Grogu. I'm so proud of you," Din chokes, audibly emotional under his helmet. "I can't believe it, cyar'ika."

In the bizarre plane of existence known as The Force, the feeling of pride surrounding your family is unmistakable. Grogu is so proud of himself, and Din's so full of pride for his foundling you're not sure how his beskar can contain it all. The pride of a father hearing his son truly speak for the first time envelopes your own similarly maternal pride, and in this instant you know that the strange thing binding your family's fate together has you right where you need to be.

"I can't believe it either, Din," you breathe, tears of joy threatening to fall.

*****

Din's heart swells with delight every single time he hears Grogu say "Da", which ends up being a lot once the kid really gets going. Well into the morning he's still saying it happily, and Din cannot get enough. You, on the other hand, are trying very poorly to hide the fact that it's getting on your nerves.

"What about 'Ma,' dude? Come on, say my name too," you're pleading, bouncing Grogu as Din makes the three of you breakfast.

All the while Grogu repeats the fatherly title over and over again, and Din's grin beneath his helmet only grows fonder.

"Say 'Mama'," you request, tone riding the edge of desperation.

"Don't get too jealous, cyare," Din teases. He looks over his shoulder at you with a hidden smirk.

Throwing him a sheepish smile, you laugh and shrug. "Hey, I'm just trying to expand his vocabulary, that's all."

Din's own laugh feels like a pleasant rumble of soft, distant thunder in his chest. All at once he thinks of the thunderstorms during the rainy season on Nevarro, and his heart aches with longing for the lava planet. Had that not been the initial setting of his dream?

A house just outside the city limits. A pen of blurrgs and a lush garden with a small pond. The Razor Crest parked just outside the home on a stormy night.

Just as he's about to suggest that his family make their way back to Nevarro soon, there comes the sound of someone banging a fist into the outer hull of the Razor Crest from outside.

"Who could that be?" You ask, eyebrows raising in Din's direction.

The knocks come again and a very muffled voice faintly makes its way through the barrier of metal, yelling, "It is Paz Vizsla!"

Din groans in the most Earthly way he ever has, knowing full well that he sounds just like you while practically slamming the spatula down in the pan. "Ugh, what could he possibly want?"

You seem taken aback by Din's tonal shift. "What's got you in a bad mood suddenly?"

"Nothing," Din hears himself snip. "I was just enjoying our morning, that's all. I'd rather him not see me without the rest of my armor on. Do you mind seeing what he wants while I finish up in here and get dressed?"

"Sure, darling," you say supportively. With a hand to his chest you lift up on your tip toes to kiss his beskar cheek and make your way over to open the ramp with Grogu in your arms.

*****

"What can I do for you, Paz?" You ask as the ramp begins to lower and you descend along with it. When your boots hit the sand, you squint at the Mandalorian man expectantly.

"Ragnar has something to say to Grogu," Paz nods down at you respectfully. Then he nods to Grogu in your arms.

The child in question comes out from behind his dad, having been hiding there the whole time. Paz is stockier than most of the other Mandos in the tribe, and a small smile of fondness graces your features at the realization that Ragnar must use this to his advantage a lot. He did it the other day, you're sure of it.

Nodding to the boy, you say, "I'm glad you're here, Ragnar. Grogu would like to say something to you as well. With my help, of course."

Grogu frowns when Ragnar approaches, the facial gesture not going unnoticed by you. "It's okay, sweetie," you tell your boy gently. "He feels sorry about yesterday. I sense it."

"I do," Ragnar says sincerely, human face hidden behind his new beskar one. As he approaches the two of you, the child turns back to look at Paz for a moment.

"Go on, son. Remember what we talked about," Paz says with a genuine tone of encouragement you're a little surprised by.

Ragnar nods, taking a deep breath to steel himself as the visor looks right at Grogu. The determination you feel from him is tangible, causing your heart to go out to the kid.

"Grogu, I'm very sorry for excluding you yesterday. And for insulting you. As Mandalorian foundlings, we must look out for one another. I vow to treat you with respect from now on. This is The Way," Ragnar finishes with a fist over his heart and a bow of his head.

Nodding, you lift Grogu up slightly and look into his big eyes as you explain your son's feelings to the younger child. "Thank you, Ragnar. We forgive you. Grogu cannot say this himself, but I have a special way of communicating with him. I know he is sorry for what happened yesterday too, and he is sorry for any physical harm he may have caused."

"I forgive you," Ragnar says to your son with a nod.

Grogu babbles happily in your arms, and when you hear the unmistakable sounds of Din's boots clanking down the ramp behind you, the boy's big brown eyes light up brighter than Tatooine's twin suns.

"Da!" Grogu shouts.

"Hey kiddo," Din says down to the boy as he comes up beside you, a gloved hand stroking one of the child's great ears. He's back in full armor.

God, he looks fucking good.

"Paz. Ragnar," Din greets with a nod which both Mandalorians return in suit. Then he looks down at you, and you know that the look hidden behind that T is one full of affection. "Breakfast is ready. I already took care of myself, so what's left is for you and Grogu."

"Thanks, baby," you grin, throwing him a wink for good measure. It sounds so fucking weird to call him that, but ever since he brought it up you've been making a point to tease him.

At first you think he's ignoring you, but then he comes to stand beside you and you feel a hard pinch to your ass. It takes all of your willpower not to react.

"When Grogu's finished eating can he come play with us?" Ragnar asks, and when Paz shoots him a look through his own T shaped visor, the child's back straightens as he quickly changes his phrasing to, "Train. Can Grogu come train with us? Teckla is going to show us how to fight in the water."

"Water? After what happened to me the other day? I don't think so." Your eyes flick wearily to the crashing waves way down on the beach.

"Not in the ocean," Paz interjects. "There is a path in the caves which leads to a small underground lake. Runoff from the cliffs have created a natural waterfall within the confines of our temporary home. We've been using the water there for bathing and training for several weeks. It should be safe, so long as your little one can swim."

Grogu nods in the affirmative, and you feel his wanting. He reaches out towards Ragnar, and you look up at Din with a shrug. "What do you think, Daddio?"

"If it's safe, I'm fine with it," Din says with a shrug of his own.

"Should I come along just in case Teckla needs the help?" You ask, anxious at the idea of trusting these strangers with your child again after the incident the day prior.

Paz gives a shake of the head. "If you like, but I think she can handle it. It's mostly a swimming lesson for Naeya. Some of the older kids will be learning how to move around in water while welding weapons."

"I always enjoyed those lessons," Din muses fondly from beside you. "Learning to swim with full beskar armor and a rifle strapped to your back is certainly not the same as swimming for leisure. I think this will be good for him, cyar'ika."

"If you think so," you agree, looking down at Grogu. "What do you think, buddy? Would you like to tag along with the others?"

Grogu nods, giving a little thumbs up for 'yes' just like you've taught him.

*****

"So… what was this about a pleasure slave outfit?" You ask, voice full of amusement as you look Din over with lusty eyes. Paz and Ragnar only just left with Grogu a few minutes ago. It's just the two of you and Jupiter on the ship for the time being, each of you taking on a chore to clean up from breakfast.

Din sees a flash in his mind of your barely clothed body being led on all fours by a chain, and the blood rush to his cock is nearly instantaneous.

"Cyar'ika," Din warns, his voice a low growl. His hands cease the act of drying the plate he's holding.

"What?" You ask not-so innocently, pretending to wipe down the small galley counter top with a knowing smirk. "The kid is gone for a few hours. I figured it was as good a time as any to hear about the rest of that dream. Did you get a chance to kill those big bad slugs and save me? Was it really hot? Like we banged right then and there with me all chained up? Or did you fail and those Hutt things did something to me? Did they make you watch? Were you helpless to stop it?"

"You're fucking asking for it. You know that, right?" Din asks evenly, licking his lips as the pressure in his pants begins to feel uncomfortable. He loves where this is going.

Smirking, you bat your eyes at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Din growls again, voice growing huskier with each word. "Would you like to know exactly what I would do to you if I had you in chains for me? If you were my pleasure slave, you'd be treated like the queen of Mandalore. Right up until the moment I decide you're going to be treated like a whore."

"Honestly I feel like that's our dynamic already," you say with a cheeky tone, poking your tongue out at him.

Din's gloved hand comes to, very gently, grip your face. His beskar nearly touches your nose as he pulls you towards him and declares, "Cyar'ika, I can assure you that you have no fucking idea of what that dynamic would look like."

With a whimper that causes Din's already throbbing dick to swell even more, you're slipping into that needy little voice you use only for him. "Din, I'm going to need you to go get that blindfold right now because that was the hottest you've ever sounded. I need your mouth on me, ner verd. Please," you breathe, writhing against his grip.

All at once Din's anxiety finds his heart and grabs hold, causing a panicked noise to rise within his throat. In that instant he's able to understand that the dream from last night was clearly a manifestation of his desire to show you his face, and the immense amount of pressure and guilt centered around the subject. He's suddenly pushing you back and away from him, and you look utterly hurt by it.

"Fuck," he blurts, wishing he could rake a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Fuck!"

"Whoa, hey," Hearing his change in tone, you clearly understand that the mood has shifted. Brows knitted and lips parted, you reach out to place a hand on his right pauldron. "Din? What's going on?"

"Nothing," he says, turning his head to avoid the scrutiny of your gaze as he shoulders your hand off of him.

"Not nothing, Chrome Dome," you argue defensively, frowning.

The use of his favorite nickname certainly grabs his attention, but he doesn't falter. "Yes, nothing."

Your tone is teetering on angry, clearly frustrated with him. "You've been acting weird for days. I've been trying to use my ability to make sense of you but you're so all over the place I haven't been able to get a read on you."

Din sighs, looking away from you.

With a deep breath and look of determination, you place a hand to the base of his helmet and force him to look at you again. In a much gentler voice, you tell him, "We don't shut each other out. Remember? Out with it."

"I can't," he gasps, shaking his head. Not right now. This can't be the moment he admits this to you. He's not ready.

Frowning, you continue to press. "What can't you do? Is it the blindfold thing? We don't have to do it today, Din. But I thought you said it was fine."

"It was. It is. I-I just. Fuck. I can't," He says the word 'can't' again as if he's being burned from the inside out, hearing the desperation in his own voice.

"Please tell me why you're freaking out about this all of the sudden," you plead, face anguished. "I'm scared that I've done something wrong, Din."

"I lied! Dank farrik! The Armorer asked me if I've taken my helmet off for you and I lied," Din hisses, not willing to raise his voice any further as he admits this great blasphemy to you.

Dumbfounded, your mouth hangs open as you say, "What?!"

He looks away. "You heard me. Don't pretend you didn't."

You move so that he still has to look at you, head moving right in front of the visor. "Yes, I heard you. But I don't understand. I didn't think we were breaking the rules? Have you been lying to me this whole time too?"

Din is scandalized by the notion. "What?! No! Absolutely not. To me, we've never broken the creed. But we came close the other day, and I fear I should have never let things get this far in the first place."

After a moment of contemplation, you look at him dead on. "So let me get this straight. To you, as long as I truly never see your face and you uphold your Mandalorian morals, the blindfold thing doesn't count. But were the Armorer to find out, you fear she could never understand it from your perspective. Am I following?"

"Yes," Din breathes, nodding. Suddenly his armor feels utterly constricting.

With closed eyes you take another deep breath, and as you exhale you fix Din with a very serious expression. "I'm going to ask you something and I assume that it's not going to be received well. But I have to ask it. Does any of what you're going through have to do with Castyl Vanda?"

Din's head snaps to you so hard he's sure his neck cracked. "How do you know that name?"

"The Armorer told me about him. Not much, but enough. She told me he left you and the tribe to become an apostate when you were still in training."

Din's own eyes slip closed beneath the beskar. "That is what happened, yes."

"Is any of what you're feeling fear that you're going to become just like him? Fear that I've forced you to stray from the creed? You know I would never do that."

His dark eyes snap back open at that, looking at you seriously in the hopes that you're able to sense how serious he is in The Force. "You haven't forced me to do anything. I've acted entirely of my own free will this entire time."

You frown deeply, "Do you feel as if what we do privately is bending the rules of the creed?"

Din falters, "I… I never thought that it was. Not truly. Not until the Armorer asked me that question. Now I am not sure what I believe."

"Please be honest with me, Din," you ask, voice small and full of insecurity. "If what we do is bending the rules, do you regret bending the rules to be with me?"

He shakes his head adamantly. "Never, cyar'ika. Never. I only fear that I cannot have both. My only regret is that I cannot show you all of me."

Your mouth falls open, the shock evident on your face. "Holy shit, Din," you breathe.

"Yeah. Holy shit," Din agrees, a humorless chuckle lodged in his throat. He cannot truly fathom that he's said it out loud to you. After months of feeling this way, it's finally out in the open.

"What does this mean for you, Din?"

The question comes with so much fear and uncertainty attached to it, and Din feels the urge to laugh humorlessly again. If only you knew how much he's been asking himself the very same thing for weeks. What could any of this possibly mean for a Mandalorian such as he?

"I do not know, but I do fear I have become more like Castyl Vanda than I realized." He says honestly.

"Are you willing to tell me about him? I'd like to understand what happened between you."

Din sighs, and resigns himself to relive one of his least favorite memories.

*****

"Cas! Cas, look at this!" Din's young, youthful voice shouts through the dense jungle-forest surrounding him. The somewhat newly established Mandalorian apprentice uses his helmet's technology to analyze the footprint of a great beast he's been tracking for two days. He's now able to pinpoint how recently this print was made using heat signatures in his visor and the physical skills he's been learning from his teacher. Din feels so proud of himself, but the moment is soured. He desperately wants to share this moment with his mentor, but Castyl is nowhere to be found.

Din knows his mentor should be hovering more, even though a year ago Cas' hovering drove the boy insane. Din used to hate feeling as if his every move were being scrutinized. But that was when he was more insecure in his new life as a Mandalorian. Now, he's had his helmet upon his head and his creed in his heart for two whole cycles. He wants to succeed as a Mandalorian warrior. He wants to know he's doing right by his teacher. Din wants Cas to be watching his tracking skills very carefully, looking to see if Din is following his instructions correctly, or if the young apprentice needs any help with a detail he may have missed. Din wants Castyl to hover, because Din wants to feel the same pride from the man that he felt the day he took the Creed and officially became a member of the tribe.

But, he's not hovering. In fact, he's been completely distant for most of the day. Just like he has been for the last several weeks. Din may as well be training himself at this point.

Ever since they started traveling with Cas' new rebel friend, Daro Tane, a few months back, the Mandalorian man has paid less and less attention to Din and his lessons. Cas' friend has also seemingly cared less and less about this great "rebellion" he used to go on and on about to a tiresome degree. Din can't remember the last time the man even mentioned The Empire. Lately they just seem to be completely consumed with one another. It makes little sense to a young boy like Din, who was quite happy when he had Cas' attentions all to himself.

A boy who lost everything in a single afternoon, literally half of his young life ago. A boy whose young life was saved that day by a great warrior. A warrior who that boy would go on to idolize, and eventually love as a father. A warrior who, Din once thought, loved him as a son.

That hasn't felt true in a while.

He waits for about as long as any impatient sixteen year old can wait, and then frustration and a little bit of hurt find their way into his heart. The boy grits his teeth, stomping angrily over to where he last saw Cas and Daro. He's ready to give the man a piece of his mind. He's ready to stand up for himself.

But then that bravado dies in his throat as he rounds the corner and sees the face of a man he does not recognize. A man wearing Cas' teal armor, but not his helmet, which is laid forgotten in the soil. A man with his tongue buried deep in the mouth of his companion.

"Cas? Is that you?" Din asks, voice suddenly small.

Both men freeze, and an eerie silence befalls the jungle-like surroundings despite the abundance of wildlife all around.

The man Din does not recognize unfreezes after a moment, his at-first closed eyes snapping open as wide as humanly possible. The "stranger" springs backwards from his companion as if being burned.

"Din! This is not what it looks like," the man begins to explain, approaching the teen. That's Cas' voice alright, but it looks wrong coming out of this person's mouth rather than a modulated speaker.

The man Din does recognize snorts out an unceremonious laugh, shaking his head of long dark braids. His skin is darker than Cas' by several shades, and his eyes hold a deep golden hue which always makes Din feel as if the man can see more than just what's in front of him. Daro Tane is a man that wears his emotions on his sleeves, yet Din can never quite get an accurate read on him or his intentions. That fact alone has bothered the boy from the moment he met the odd man.

Even now, Din has no idea what to think as the man rolls his eyes and smacks Cas playfully on the left pauldron. "Castyl Vanda that was the worst possible thing you could have said. Of course this is exactly what it looks like. You've already lied to the poor boy enough. Don't make me sit here and watch you fumble your way though this mess you've gotten yourself into. Din, I'm sorry your dad here is a horrible fool."

"He's not my dad," Din seethes beneath his beskar, the hiss of it radiating from his helmet's speaker. "My dad is dead."

Cas exchanges a pained look with Daro, and the expressiveness of his exposed face only makes Din clench his fists harder.

"Din, you know I love you like my own," Cas patiently says.

"Not enough to actually adopt me, apparently." Din bites back and the look of anguish on Cas' face makes Din feel so uncomfortable that he wants to throw up.

How can this man who has preached this creed for eight years of Din's life, two of which Din has lived with a helmet upon his young head at the encouragement of said man, be standing here with his face fully exposed? How can such a significant part of Din's life be a complete and utter lie?

"Do you even believe in the creed? Do you believe in anything you've taught me?" Din whispers, hands coming to the sides of his head as he shakes it back and forth. "How can you expect me to trust you ever again?"

Its as if he wants to hold his own helmet in place, in fear that Cas will try to convince him to take it off and ruin all of the hard work he's put into the last two years of his life. Two years of life changing adventures across the galaxy. Two years of learning to be the kind of Mandalorian he always aspired to be after Aq Vetina. Two years of learning who he could be on the other side of his pain from that horrific day.

What fresh hell this new pain is.

Cas looks at Din, and though at first Din wants to look away, he finds himself analyzing the face in front of him. Tan skin, dark eyes, dark curly hair. Hell, if Din didn't know any better he'd think they could actually be related by blood. Who knew this entire time that this man really could pass for Din's father?

"Din, please let me explain myself," Cas pleads, accented voice desperate.

Anger bubbles up Din's throat along with his words. "Explain what? That you're an apostate? What could I possibly want to hear from you? You are an outsider! You're not Mandalorian."

Cas steps forward to place a hand on Din's shoulder, but the boy shoves it off. With a sigh, Cas explains, "Din, I am just as much a Mandalorian today as I was the day I saved your life and you became the foundling in my care. The only thing that has changed is that I've found love. Daro is ner cyare, Din. I wanted him to know me, and that included all of me. It was not my intention for you to find out this way."

"So you are willing to give up on everything for him?" Give up on me? The boy thinks, but is too scared to say out loud. Din glares at Daro then, who merely smiles awkwardly and waves in return. Din hates him in that moment. "He's not even a Mandalorian."

"He doesn't have to be. You know that our culture does not require it."

Daro chooses to interject finally, "But your culture does require that he hide that gorgeous face from me, and that I just simply could not abide. He's too pretty to keep himself under all that beskar."

Cas shoots Daro a look, eyes narrowing. "You're not helping right now, my love."

Daro shrugs, "I know. This sort of interpersonal drama makes me wildly uncomfortable, so I just wanted to lighten the mood."

"Again, not helping." Cas pinches the bridge of his nose, a sight that bothers Din more than any other he's seen thus far.

Din glares at both of them, declaring, "Take me back to the tribe. I want nothing to do with you."

Cas tries to plead once more, "Din, please. Give me a chance to explain myself. I would like for you to understand why the creed no longer means to me what it did before. I'm still a Mandalorian in my heart. This is still how I was raised. These are the values I plan to uphold for the rest of my life. I just also want the man I love to know my face. I want you to understand how meaningful my connection with him is to me. Just like my connection to you is meaningful. You are my family, Din. But so is Daro. You both mean more to me than I could ever truly describe."

For a moment Din considers these words, but only for a moment. The betrayal is settling in his heart like a stone, weighing him down with anger and hatred. His first father died against Din's will. His second father is now dead to Din as well, and this time it's entirely his choice.

Poetically, the dark clouds which had been swirling above all morning finally give way to an uproarious thunderclap. Lightning flashes and the thunder shakes the ground beneath his feet. Little dings and bongs of rain drops hitting Din's helmet create a metallic rhythm which steadies him, reminding him of who he is and who he wants to grow up to be.

"Take me back to the tribe, apostate. I will continue my training with a real Mandalorian," Din demands icily, turning on his heel to start back towards the ship and away from this man who's broken his heart completely in half.

Cas calls after him, and Din lets his tears fall freely under the sanctity of his helmet.

*****

"Din, you're nothing like him," you say confidently after Din's story is finished.

Din scoffs, "How can you say I am nothing like him when I have clearly caught the same affliction? That's the worst part of all of this. After all these years, now that I have you in my life, I finally understand why he did what he did. I even hate him a little less for it. That scares me, cyar'ika. It scares the hell out of me."

With a snort, you reply, "Oh, so now being in love with me is an affliction?"

"You know that is not what I mean," Din says evenly.

"I'm teasing you," you soothe, bare hand reaching for his gloved one. "You're nothing like him because you would have never chosen me over Grogu and we both know that for a fact. Creed or no creed, Cas chose not to be a father to you when you clearly needed one. You've been nothing but a father to Grogu since the day you met him. You didn't start blatantly ignoring Grogu's needs the moment I came into your life, and it sounds like that's exactly what Cas did to you when he met Daro. You fell in love with me without it being at the expense of your relationship with Grogu. I think that speaks volumes about your character."

Din shakes his silver head, shame seeping from the pores of his very being. "But I have not adopted Grogu. In that regard I am no better."

Frowning, you argue, "You said yourself that we are your family regardless of the rituals."

"But what if the rituals really do mean something? What if Grogu needs that gesture of security from us now more than ever?" Din's voice is so full of worry.

You heart breaks a little for him then, realizing just how much Din needed a similar gesture of security when he was young. A gesture he ultimately never received. You know all too well what it feels like to hardly ever receive the sort of love from a parent that you desperately needed growing up.

Tone shifting to a much softer one, you say, "Then we should perform the ritual with Grogu and make things official. I think that would be really great, but make sure you do it for Grogu and nothing else. Please don't do it simply because you're scared you're going to end up like Cas. And I'm sorry about him, by the way. It sounds like that was pretty traumatizing. I'm sure it was hard for you to trust people after that."

"It was incredibly hard," Din agrees. Then he sighs anxiously, looking at you with the tiniest of shivers in his broad shoulders. "What of my helmet? What should I do about the Armorer?"

Thinking on it for a moment, you inhale and ask, "I mean, what was her reaction when you lied?"

He shrugs. "I got the impression she did not believe me."

"And she didn't say anything?"

"No, she simply forged yours and Grogu's armor."

After a moment of thought, you giggle.

Din sounds downright aghast at the sound of it. "What could possibly be funny?"

"Din, babe. I think you're fine."

"You do?"

"Think about it," you say, "Why would she let us stay here and give Grogu and I armor if she was going to kick you out for being an apostate?"

He sakes his head, still confused as ever sounding. "I've been asking myself that for two days."

Smiling, you squeeze his gloved hand. "Well, in my opinion, I think you're safe. I didn't feel anything untoward from her when I was in her forge. If anything I think she's a huge softie for you and that's why Paz hates your guts. I mean, come on. You show up with not one but two outsiders, and shes not only totally cool with it but she goes on to make both outsiders a piece of armor?"

"You make a fair point now that I think about it…" Din trails off, voice already sounding much lighter and more like himself.

Frowning, though, you take on a serious tone as you squeeze his fingers even harder. "I do think it's wise to evaluate your feelings surrounding the creed. If it doesn't mean as much to you as it once did, that's okay. I just want you to be happy. You said your only regret is that you cannot show me all of you, and if that's true I just want you to know that I will never regret what we have or wish for anything to be different on my end. I love you, and I love any parts of you that you are able to share with me just as much as I love the parts you can't show me. We all have parts we choose to share and parts we keep to ourselves. It's up to us what we give to the world. That has nothing to do with being Mandalorian or a creed. That's just being human."

"Human," Din repeats, voice dreamy.

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Materlist

*****

At first upon landing, you'd thought that the planet was adorned with extremely tall mineral stalagmites of some sort, the huge pointed formations reminding you of the caves your family just recently visited. Din explains that the formations are actually the petrified tree trunks of very ancient trees which the locals refer to as spires. The largest of the spires is the size of a small building with at least ten floors, and your mind marvels at the concept of a tree that big. Unlike the rest of them, it's rocky surface is so dark it appears to be black.

Which, is how the town Din has brought you to got the name of Black Spire. It's a decently large outpost settlement, filled with buildings and inhabitants of various shapes and sizes. It's got all of the usual trappings that a town needs to thrive, and it does appear to be a very thriving community. Businesses and markets make up the main town square, with a large number of houses sprawling out to the dense forest surrounding the city limits.

"This place is lovely, Din," you say pleasantly to your Mandalorian as he walks beside you with Grogu in his arms.

"Mm," Din hums in agreement, "It's grown more beautiful since the last time I was here. I was young then, back when The Empire was running rampant across the Galaxy. This was a common enough outpost for scoundrels to lay low in those days. Batuu is one of the last stops on the outer rim before wild space, and often people come here when they do not wish to be found."

"Makes sense why Cas would come here then," you say idly, eyeing him for a reaction. "If he's even really here, that is."

Din nods, "He was always fond of this planet. If he is here, I'm not surprised."

"How are you doing about that?" You ask, stroking the wispy hairs on Grogu's head as the boy coos at you from Din's arms.

"I'm fine," Din says a little curtly, beskar glinting as he shrugs and stiffens a little.

"Just checking," you ask. He doesn't feel fine, but you know it's not the right time to press him.

The three of you wander around for a long time, looking at shops here and there. Eventually your group stumbles upon a street stand for the chocolate covered surabat grain Din mentioned to you, and he stops to buy a container of it for you and Grogu to try.

"This is fucking wild," you say with a laugh, looking down at the somehow familiar looking food nestled in a dark red box as he presents it to you. "This stuff just looks like popcorn."

"What the hell is pup-corn?" Din asks, moving over to where a bench is situated under a decent sized tree which provides the perfect amount of shade. He sits down and places Grogu on the seat beside him, handing a few kernels to the hungry child.

"Da!" Grogu says, thanking his dad as he nearly inhales the sweet food with little gurgles and chomps, a content look on his youthful face.

You take a seat to Grogu's other side, reaching a thumb and forefinger into the container on Din's lap to pluck out a single piece. It really does just seem like regular old chocolate covered popcorn. "I said, 'pop-corn,'" you pronounce the "p" prominently, grinning. "That's the buttery snack I told you I would eat at the movies."

"Oh. Well, see if it's similar at all," Din encourages, shaking the container at you. He then reaches his leather clad fingers in to pinch a single piece for himself, and pokes the kernel up under the base of his beskar helmet before you hear a soft crunch. "Tastes pretty good to me," he declares, shrugging his pauldrons again.

So, you pop your own little kernel into your mouth and let it sit on your tongue for a moment before slowly rolling it over to to your right set of molars. You bite down, eyes closing as you try to decipher the intriguing flavor. You'd half expected the Ratatouille flashback moment to happen and suck your mind back into the first movie theater seat you ever sat in, but instead you just chuckle and chew. It's good, just not what you were expecting.

"Verdict?" Din asks, voice light as he shoves another piece up under the rim of his helmet. Then another. He's being quite brazen about eating in public, which surprises you, but you don't address it.

Laughing, you pop another piece into your mouth as Grogu devours more handfuls. "Okay, so this definitely doesn't taste like chocolate from Earth. The texture of this grain is also nothing like popcorn… but I really like this! It's just close enough to the thing from my home world. Thank you for this, Din. It was a very sweet gesture, no pun intended."

"You're welcome," Din replies fondly as he takes another piece.

Feeling braver, you inquire, "But, I have to ask, is a snack run the real reason we came all this way to the literal outskirts of the galaxy?"

Din sighs, shoulder pauldrons dipping slightly as he shakes his silver head. "No. It's not. But I will always take any excuse I can to make you happy."

Your heart flutters at that. "I love it when you talk that way. I hope you know that you make me happy every day just by being yourself."

"Mm," Din hums pleasantly. He turns his attention down to the child seated between you, asking him, "What about you, Grogu? Do I make you happy every day?"

"Da!" Grogu cries cheerfully, hands and mouth starting to smear with melted chocolate.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' son," Din chuckles, wiping the kid's mouth with the disposable cloth which the snack stand provided.

His energy towards Grogu is so light in spite of the deeper emotions crashing against his presence in the Force, like waves crashing against a ship caught in a rough storm. Your heart boils over with fondness for your man, and you hope to hell that this impromptu search for his ex-mentor isn't going to hurt him too much. It's obvious to you that he's not even entirely sure what he hopes to gain from this experience, but it's something he clearly needs deep down in his soul.

Catharsis, as the Armorer put it. We all need that from time to time. Now just seems to be one of Din's times, and you hope your support as his partner is enough to help him get through it. Castyl may not even be here anymore, but if he is and Din manages to find him, you're mentally preparing for an emotionally challenging couple of days ahead.

"I hope that Grogu and I make you happy, too," you say earnestly, willing him to feel your support through your tone and soft expression.

Din's head dips in a nod, voice very fond, "I think I had forgotten what real happiness felt like until I met you two."

Once the not-popcorn is finished, mostly by Grogu, the three of you carry on with your exploration of the city with a slew of mixed emotions.

A clothing store catches your attention shortly after, and you find yourself stopping in front of a window displaying a very beautiful plum colored dress on a female mannequin. It's fabric seems light and airy, almost sheer in certain places with random lines of shimmering silver embroidered down the floor length skirt. The garment is sleeveless, with an intricately woven black leather design creating the shape of the halter neck and bodice. It starts at the waist with a belt of three form fitting strips to compliment the natural shape of a woman's curved hips, then another set of three strips covering the breasts. A third set of leather strips create the choker-like neckline. All connected by a single line of leather leading from the waist belt up to the cuff around the neck. The purple fabric and black leather are such contrasting materials, but end up complimenting them so well.

"You would look lovely in that," Din remarks from behind you, his silver reflection appearing in the window's glossy surface.

"Thank you, ner Verd," you say kindly, turning to face him with a sigh. "I'm sure it costs an arm and a leg."

"Do you want to go in and look?" He asks.

You shake your head, "It's probably too much, Din."

Din keeps pressing anyway, "You said you wanted something more feminine to wear."

Glancing at the dress, then back at Din, you shake your head more fervently. "Yeah, but that looks like it's for a very formal occasion."

Din shrugs, "They may have more modest choices inside. And, besides, you wanted to let Grogu look at clothes too, didn't you?"

"Ma!" Grogu coos, reaching for you. Din passes him over to you as he says it again and again while snuggling into your embrace. "Mama!" He shouts, pointing at the shop with a single claw.

Laughing, you feel nothing but deep love for this child. "Alright, alright, I get it. You really want to go look at clothes, don't you, sweetie?"

The kid nods happily, and you find yourself feeling quite excited at the prospect of doing something so… Earthly. Taking your son to shop for new clothes feels like a silly turn of events for such a serious trip to Batuu. It also sounds incredibly nice.

"Okay, I guess we'll go check out this store then," you say with a small laugh.

Din places a glove over the beskar protecting his stomach, the blue triangle on the back of his leather clad hand hovering right over where his bellybutton hides beneath his thick clothes. "Snacking made me realize that I'm very hungry all of the sudden. Would you mind if I leave you both here while I go find a private place to eat a quick lunch? We can get the two of you a real meal after."

Smiling, you confirm with a nod. "Sure. We'll just poke around here until you get back."

Din graces you and Grogu each with a quick keldabe kiss, and then it's just you and the green bean in your arms as your cosmic companion walks off. You can't help but watch his ass for a moment as he departs. With his cape slung over his jet pack off to one side, his finely toned derrière is visible for once, flexing with each step just under the plate of beskar protecting his lower back.

How is he so perfect?

Shaking your head of the impure thoughts that man seems to cause just by existing, you focus your attention on Grogu. "Alright, kiddo. You heard your dad. Let's go see if we like any of the options in here while we wait for him to come back," you say down to your son, making your way into the small retail establishment.

As you enter through a doorway made of the most gorgeous multicolored beaded curtains, your nose takes in the pleasant, spicy aroma of musky incense. Immediately, you're pulled into memories form Earth of smoky boutiques run by whimsical hippies selling their bohemian wears. And honestly? This shop isn't really that far off, just a little bit more sci-fi than the ones you're remembering.

Beautiful textiles cover the place from floor to ceiling, colors and textures assaulting your senses from every direction. It's chaotic, yet somehow not off putting. Unlike the shops you're used to from Earth, you don't see more than one of the same outfit or garment no matter which way you look. Each finished piece on display seems to be entirely unique from the rest, which leads you to believe that this boutique consists of wares hand made either by the proprietor or a tailor on site. This is only solidified for you when you realize that one corner of the shop has what looks like some sort of loom set up with an unfinished length of lovely sunflower yellow fabric. That being said, you immediately know how unlikely it is that you can afford anything in this seemingly boujee place.

Grogu coos and reaches for things he wants to grab, saying, "Ma," as he does so. A little "patu" sneaks out of his lips as well.

"Yeah, sweetie? What do you think? These fabrics are so pretty, aren't they?" You ask lovingly, gently moving him away from an expensive looking top he doesn't need to touch.

A crisp accented male voice appears from thin air, startling you as you hear someone say, "May I help you, miss?"

You whip around to see a gorgeous older black man with striking amber eyes standing directly behind you, muscular arms filled with a stack of what looks like folded pants of various colors. He seems to be in his mid to late fifties, gray streaks finding their way into his long head of braids and well barbered beard, accenting the handsome lines on his face.

The man is good-looking enough that it throws you off for a good fifteen seconds, and you only remember that you're supposed to respond when Grogu makes a loud noise in your arms.

"Oh, um, I'm not actually sure. My son and I are just browsing," you offer lamely, blinking.

"Well, if you're looking for something to wear you are in the right place," the man chuckles, moving to sit the stack of clothing on a counter. "Welcome in."

"Thank you. These clothes are all so beautiful and unique," you say, moving to look at a blue shirt that looks to be about Grogu's size hanging on a rack. The beadwork is otherworldly, and it sort of reminds you of a Tang suit jacket. "Are they all hand made?"

The man smiles broadly, nodding, "By yours truly, no less. May I ask where you're from? Your accent is very strange."

If only you knew the half of it, you think wryly, smiling a little to yourself. "My planet isn't well known in these parts," you say, sounding not unlike your friend Cobb Vanth from Tatooine. "My family and I are travelers. We don't really live in any one place, at least for the time being."

"Ah, a lifestyle I used to know well," he says fondly, golden eyes lost in a memory for a moment. Then he looks you up and down, seemingly sizing you up. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

With a shake of the head, you tell him, "Honestly, we probably can't afford anything you sell right now. But my son is in need of something new to wear more than I am. All he has is this one garment. I'd love for him to feel like he can express himself."

The man eyeballs Grogu for a long moment, nodding. "Well you've come to the right place if you wish to express yourself, little one." The he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, a smirk riding his words, "And what of you, my dear? Are you in need of something new to express yourself? The frock in the window perhaps?"

Cheeks flushing, you shake your head. How the hell did he clock that?

"Oh, that dress is beautiful but I'm sure it's far too extravagant for me. Not a lot of reasons to dress like that on a spaceship," you give an awkward chuckle.

The shopkeeper nods thoughtfully, smirk growing even wider. "Well, you see, this is not your average clothing boutique. You can't just come in here and buy anything. My pieces choose their wearer, and I do believe that dress is calling out for you to try it on."

The clothes choose their wearer? What the hell? This guy is either the best salesman you've ever met, or the most arrogant. Which one, you're not sure yet.

Before you have a chance to argue with him about it and make a quick exit, another gorgeous man steps out from the back of the shop. This man seems a little older than the one you've been talking to, with the sun-kissed dark tan skin of a person in their early sixties who spends a great deal of time outdoors. His curly hair was clearly once very dark, but now holds a great deal of white throughout, both on his head and on his chin.

This man seems unbothered by your presence, making a bee line for the younger of the two with a deep look of love in his brown eyes. In his hands he carries a woven brown basket covered with a green cloth. A profound love surges between these two within the force, so vibrantly that it reminds you of how Din's emotions feel around you sometimes.

"Cyar'ika, my love, I brought your lunch," he says with a thick exotic accent, moving to place a quick kiss on his apparent lover's cheek.

Hearing the name Din uses for you being said by someone else, to someone else, causes your head to spin. No fucking way. It can't have been that easy, could it have?

The first man that you encountered leans into this new man's touch. "Mm, thank you. What did you make for me?"

"Your favorite, of course. And a salad with ingredients fresh picked from this morning's harvest." The second man says, finally taking notice of you and Grogu. "Apologies for the interruption, miss. My husband would never remember to eat if I didn't bring him his lunch every day."

Your mouth simply hangs open, dumbfounded as you look between the handsome men and put two and two together.

The first man smiles, pretending to roll his eyes. "He just wants an excuse to see me while I'm working. I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

After a slack-jawed coupled of seconds you pull yourself together. "Um, excuse me, but are you Castyl Vanda and Daro Tane?" You ask in a timid voice, eyes searching both men's handsome faces for a reaction.

Both of them look completely shocked, mouths also falling open in surprise.

"Do we know you?" The one you believe to be Daro asks, immediately putting his guard up a little as the whimsical shop keep persona melts away.

"No, you don't. But I believe you know my companion," you say softly, just as Grogu looks over your shoulder and his huge eyes light up with happiness.

"Dada!" The green child shouts, the weight of his entire body bouncing against your collarbone as he reaches behind you.

Din chooses this very moment to walk into the shop, and suddenly you're feeling so many emotions swirling around your own that you feel as if you need to sit down, bracing yourself on the rack of shirts with the arm that isn't holding Grogu.

"Well, this certainly wasn't in my star chart for this morning," Daro says with a bit of an attitude and a sneer, brow cocked. "A Mandalorian? In my shop? I don't sell beskar here, you know."

"Daro, enough. I know you want to protect my feelings, but it's okay. I haven't seen anyone wearing beskar in a very long time," Castyl practically whispers, brow furrowing as he looks right past you at Din. "It is a welcome sight, I think."

You turn to face your cosmic companion, expression sheepish as you awkwardly say, "I think I found them."

Din walks up beside you, taking Grogu into his arms as the child scrambles out of your grasp and into his. "Hey, buddy," Din says lovingly to his son, looking between Grogu and yourself while seemingly ignoring the two men who stand before you. "You okay, adika? And you, Cyar'ika?"

Grogu nods, snuggling into his dad, and you feel worn leather against your flesh as Din reaches for your hand with his gloved fingers, latching onto your own bare digits with his free hand. The touch of his family is clearly steadying the cyclone of emotions you feel whirling within him.

You squeeze hard, letting him know you're there with him and you're not going anywhere.

"Maker… I know that voice. Though, it was higher pitched the last time I heard it." Castyl's breath audibly hitches in his throat, accent thick as he says, "It can't be… Din? Din Djarin?" The way that he says the name carries so much weight. Weight that you could never possibly begin to understand. Castyl's voice is so soft and vulnerable as he asks, "Is that really you?"

Din's visor fixes on the older man, shoulders squaring. "Hello, Cas," he says evenly.

*****

After an awkward set of introductions, Castyl and Daro make quick work of closing up the boutique and offer their hospitality back on the small farm they share. Din's guard is up the entire time he's relocating the Razor Crest to their property with Castyl up in the cockpit directing him on where to go.

He flies out to the designated location far on the outskirts of town where their home is situated on a decently sized plot of land about five miles from any other home or structure. On foot the trip would feel much further, and thusly the men use speeder bikes to get back and fourth to town each day. Speeder bikes which are down on the first floor with you, Grogu, and Daro.

Jupiter disappeared the moment strangers came aboard the ship, and Din half wishes he could have joined her. Now that this is really happening, he's ready to scamper off and hide too. Having both of them on his ship certainly has Din's hackles rasied, but luckily the trip is a short one.

Surrounded by spires and jungle, there lies an open field filled with various crops of plant-life growing in long rows. A small, cozy looking house is situated on top of a grassy knoll on the edge of the meadow, and beside that is an animal pen filled up with alien livestock.

Din's able to land the ship on a flat area just behind the house, and he feels like he can't get everyone off the ship fast enough as he spins in the pilot seat.

"Your flying has improved," Castyl offers awkwardly as he lifts up from the seat you usually sit in.

Din grits his teeth beneath his helmet, huffing, "Well, it has been two decades since the last time you saw me fly. I was bound to improve at some point."

Castyl's face falls a little, a certain sadness finding his eyes that Din tries desperately to ignore as the older man says, "I know. I just remember how terrible you were at landing back then. It's nice to see how much you've grown, that's all." Cas chuckles, and the sound of it forced and awkward.

Din simply grunts and moves past him to head down the ladder. He needs the presence of you and Grogu to remind him that he's in control of his own life, and he made the choice to come here for, hopefully, a good reason.

Once the bikes and the uncomfortable passengers are unloaded from the Crest, Din locks her up and their hosts begin the tour of their home. They take Din's family on a walk along the farmland, which Cas tends to daily while Daro works in his shop back in town. Apparently the clothing store is purely an artistic venture for the younger of the two men, given that they are able to fully survive off of the sustenance provided by the plants and animals on the farm.

They seem to live a peaceful life here, in the little cottage by the woods. The house itself is small, but certainly big enough for the two of them to live very comfortably. With artistic, colorful decor Din knows must be all Daro's doing, it appears to be a well lived in home full of love.

Admittedly, Din feels a little jealous as Cas and Daro show the three of you around. Everything they have is something Din can envision for himself in the future. He just has no idea how to get there, and it frustrates him a little.

Never mind the suit of Mandalorian armor on display in the main living space, which causes Din's heart to sting as he moves past it. Cas quickly explains that the armor is there to remind him of who he is, and that he still puts it on when trouble arises and the occasion calls for it, before uncomfortably ushering everyone onto the backyard patio.

Daro, who has been kind to you and Grogu but openly snarky to Din, provides some entertainment while Castyl moves back into the house to begin preparing a meal, and soon nightfall finds the little farm to the tune of Daro's quadjitar strings. With a backup band of natural nighttime sounds, the sound of it is admittedly quite lovely. Din had forgotten how much music was a part of what made these two men grow close when Cas first brought Daro to live aboard their ship, and it causes his heart to swell when he thinks of the correlation between himself and you with your Earth music.

You're just like him…, Din's mind thinks, hating how much he finds Daro's instrument to be pleasing to the ear now that he's a grown man. Back then he hated the sound of it, knowing deep down that each strum was pulling Cas further and further away from him.

Cas eventually provides his guests with a meal which may be one of the best things Din's had to eat in a very long time, flavorful textures filling his mouth and brain with unexpected nostalgic joy. He'd forgotten how well Castyl could cook.

The older man respectfully sets up a private space for Din to eat in Cas' personal den, which Daro has something rude to mumble about under his breath. Din ignores it and takes his meal into the private space. While he has the freedom to look around the room without any beskar upon his head, Din finds himself snooping as he enjoys the hearty bowl of stew.

The room is filled with nothing but evidence of the full life Cas has been living with Daro since parting ways with the younger Din Djarin, and the grown Din Djarin genuinely doesn't know how to feel. Hurt, yes. But also… happy. Happy for the life Castyl Vanda has built with Daro Tane. Happy they found the sort of peace Din has only dreamt of.

When Din comes back out to join the group, face once again obscured by beskar, a bonfire has been lit in the backyard and he hears the distinct sound of David Bowie's voice echoing loudly through the valley.

"So you mean to tell me your planet is on the other side of the universe and this beautiful man has to be kept so far away from us? This is the most unique sound I've ever heard in my life. I can't get enough!" Daro marvels excitedly to you as Din walks up.

"Well, he's also dead. So luckily we're not missing out on anything new," you reply with a curt laugh, and then you frown as your eyes widen comically. "Morbid as that may sound."

"Life on Mars?" Din asks, coming up to wrap an arm around your waist from behind.

"Hi, Chrome Dome," you say lovingly as you lean your weight into him. You've got a glass of purple liquid in your hand, and Din notices immediately how you're obviously feeling loosened up. "How come you didn't tell me that you learned to cook from Cas? No wonder you're so good at it! His food was sooo good. He ferments his own wine, too. You should try some."

Din can't help but laugh at your slight intoxication, "Perhaps later, love. I'm glad to see you're having a good time."

Your relaxed face grows serious, voice dropping in volume, "I hope that's okay. Are you having a good time?"

Din looks over to where Cas is sipping his own glass of wine, staring into the fire with a deep look of contemplation on his furrowed brow. "I'm figuring that out," he answers honestly. Then he looks down to where Grogu is sitting on a cushion a few feet away from the fire munching on what looks like dessert. "You good, Grogu?"

Grogu looks up at Din, ears bouncing as he nods, shouting, "Da!", with a sticky looking thumbs up.

Din chuckles, tapping his forehead to your temple before he dislodges from you. "You should play The Man Who Sold the World," Din suggests, "or Ashes to Ashes. Oh, and China Girl. Daro would probably like that one."

You smile broadly up at him, "Do you know how special it is to me that you have favorite David Bowie songs?"

"Very, I would assume," Din agrees, a broad smile of his own hidden from your gorgeous eyes that he, now more than ever, wishes he could look into directly. "I'm going to let you have your fun, Cyare. Enjoy yourself."

You follow the gaze of Din's visor over to Cas, a look of understanding washing over your soft features. "Good luck, ner Verd. Remember how strong you are."

Din nods once at you, and then he moves over to the other side of the fire to sit directly next to Cas. It's going to take a few more songs before he feels comfortable saying anything to him, though.

Din simply watches you dancing with Grogu and Daro around the fire pit, his heart so full of love he's not sure how it still fits inside his ribcage anymore. He lets out a loud, almost dreamy sigh as he realizes that this is truly the happiest he's ever been despite how much he's actively making himself suffer.

"One kiss is all it takes," Castyl breaks the silence between them knowingly, eying Din with an amused look. "Then suddenly that damn creed doesn't seem so appealing anymore, does it?"

Din's head whips to him sharply, breath hitching. The older man has the audacity to laugh at Din's reaction, and Din feels his eyes narrow just as sharply, tongue matching his movements with a certain sharpness as well. "What the hell did you just say to me?"

Cas takes a sip from his glass, smirking against the rim as he leans back into his seat, nodding in your direction. "I have a feeling you know exactly what I'm talking about. I know you've kissed her, Din. You may still keep the beskar upon your face but I know you well. You've kissed her."

"You haven't known me in twenty three cycles," Din replies bitterly, frowning as his head turns to look over at you again. You pick up Grogu and dip him dramatically, then practically throw him into the air as the child shrieks with laughter and you do a spin. Din's frown twitches, aching to become a smile again.

Cas shakes his head, "Din, I raised you for eight cycles as my own. I know you. I may not know the man you've grown into, and I'd like to get to know him if you'll allow me the opportunity, but it doesn't change the fact that I know you, my boy."

Din glares daggers from behind his visor, disliking the phrase Cas used to describe him. "You know nothing about me, old man."

Castyl smirks again, "Then tell me you haven't kissed her. Tell me I'm wrong, and I swear to you I'll leave it alone."

There's a long pause between the two Mandalorians, each looking at one another expectantly. Then the trance is broken by the sound of the child's giggles and uproarious laughter of the two slightly tipsy adults. Both men look across the bonfire at their respective partners, and Din feels his heart swell again at the sight of you and his son dancing along to your beloved Earth music. He takes in the motherly visage he loves so dearly, watching you nuzzle your nose into the tiny one at the center of Grogu's little face. It steadies Din, reminding him of why he's even here on Batuu in the first place.

"She's never seen my face," Din says evenly, still glaring a little from behind his shield, though he feels the intensity of it waning as his will to be angry slowly ebbs away.

Castyl shrugs, making an exaggerated face as he does so. Even now, after all this time, Din feels incredibly strange watching the man he used to know so well from behind beskar emote in plain sight.

"Now that," Cas says cheekily, "I do believe. But she doesn't have to see your face to kiss you, Din. I know that better than you may think. It took me several months to work up the courage to show Daro my face, but he knew the touch of my lips well before he ever saw what they look like."

Din doesn't say anything, feeling a tad uncomfortable at the mental images plaguing his poor mind, and Castyl looks a little too pleased with himself.

"As I said; One kiss is all it takes. After that you’re addicted to it like raw spice, right? You tell yourself that you won’t let it happen all the time, because deep down you know it’s ‘wrong’,” Cas says this part sarcastically with finger quotations. “But then it happens again the very next day. And the day after that. It happens frequently enough that you’re not sure why you put that thing back on half the time, but you still do it because you feel obligated to.”

Din sits there for a moment, multiple emotions attacking his senses all at once. He's pissed off that, even with the barrier of beskar in the way, Castyl is able to easily read him like the adventure novel on Grogu's reader pad. After all these years with no contact, no less.

Din is also… relieved? Yes, relieved. Relieved to have someone here who can understand how much he's been struggling with this. How much it's been tearing him apart deep down. Someone who knows how specific this particular pain feels to a Mandalorian who lives so strictly by the creed. Or used to, at least.

"I hate that I don't hate you," Din finally says after a long moment.

Castyl's eyebrows raise in surprise, clearly not expecting that statement from his ex-ward. Then his face morphs into a remorseful look, accented voice wavering, "It's alright if you do hate me, Din. I made peace with that a long time ago. I know I didn't handle the falling out with you well. I…," the older man sighs deeply, regret riding the sound of it, "I should have been a real father to you when you needed one. But I just simply couldn't be the kind of father you needed me to be. My heart was being pulled in two different directions at once and, at the time, I didn't know how to grapple with that."

Din shakes his head, clarifying, "You don't understand. I did hate you. For a long time. I let that hate fester inside of me for most of my life." Din points an orange tipped finger at his loved ones, "And until that child and that woman walked into it and showed me what real love looks like, that hate kept me from letting anyone get close to me. Because of them, I believe I finally understand you. I want to hate you more than anything, Cas. But I can't. Not anymore."

Castyl chuckles, tipping his glass towards Din's family before imbibing more of his drink. "I should thank them, then. For knocking some sense into that thick helmet of yours."

"How did you know?" Din inquires quietly, hearing the trepidation in his own voice.

Cas cocks an eyebrow, "Know what?"

With a deep breath, Din asks, "That you needed Daro to know all of you… That you were ready to give up living by the creed for him."

The older man seems to take in this question with reverence, brow furrowing slightly as he nods and thinks to himself for a moment. Castyl's dark eyes then lock right onto Din's visor, penetrating through the barrier straight to Din's own dark brown eyes. The eyes Din's ex-mentor has never made true eye contact with, ever.

The man speaks plainly, "When I realized how incredibly lacking my life had been before I met him. And I may have removed my helmet, but I never gave up living by the creed, Din. At least, not in my heart. Not in the ways that truly matter. I may have failed you, but I still consider myself to be a Mandalorian, and I try to live every day by the same values I taught you as a boy."

Din needs more than that, pressing further. "What do you mean when you say your life had been lacking before Daro?"

Castyl looks over at his husband with a fond smile, then back at Din as he leans back and settles in for a long explanation. "Before I met Daro, I thought my life made sense. I thought that if I had my creed and my armor and my mission to train you, then that was all I ever needed to fully live. But there was something missing deep down in my soul, and I couldn't see that until Daro stumbled onto our ship that fateful day. At first I tried so hard to fight my affection for him, and the treason against The Tribe he constantly made me feel."

Cas interrupts himself with a chuckle, clearly experiencing a meaningful memory. "The first time he truly made me laugh, I felt very disappointed that he could not see me laughing with him. To see the joy he stirred in my heart written so plainly on my face. That disappointment scared me, Din. It scared me a lot. But only at first. As time went on, I simply stopped fighting what was growing between Daro and I because I knew it was no use. It felt natural to be with him in a way I had never known with any other. To love him completely. To know him, as our culture would put it. When I first told him that I loved him in the tongue of our people, I knew I needed him to look me in the eyes as I said it. I needed him to know the human man that I had chosen to hide away inside that suit of armor so long ago."

Din's heart wrenches as he takes in Castyl's words, realizing how eerily similar the older man's experience with Daro had been to Din's own experience meeting you. Realizing how jarring the parallels are in this moment makes Din's entire world feel as if it's being turned upside down.

"Why couldn't you be honest with me about your relationship with him?" Din asks, voice small as he feels like the sixteen year old version of himself again. The version of himself that had been so desperate for answers, yet far too stubborn and hurt at the time to ask for them. But he's here now, and he's finally able to push through his pain to ask for the clarity he needs. His voice shrinks even more as he asks the true question layered underneath his first, "Why did you abandon me?"

Castyl seems to give this inquiry genuine consideration before answering, "Because you told me to, Din. You told me to leave your life, so I did. I was ready to give up the creed and start a new life of my own and, though it pained me, I knew you couldn't be a part of that life. You had just started down your own path and I didn't feel comfortable deciding your fate for you. The creed meant so much to you back then. I chose to leave so that I wouldn't get in the way of the future you so desperately wanted for yourself. And, admittedly," Cas chuckles somewhat bitterly, "I was incredibly selfish back then. All I wanted was Daro, and I was blind to anything else. As much as I loved you like my own son, I simply couldn't be the father you needed. My path through the stars was set on a different course than yours. It may not be the answer you've been searching for, but it's the only one I have to offer."

Din lets this information soak into his mind for a moment, and he finds himself looking at Grogu while he contemplates his response. "I believe I understand," he says quietly.

Cas follows Din's gaze, and a small smile forms on his lips beneath his graying beard. "I was certainly never as good of a father as you are to that foundling. You're doing well with him. It makes an old Mandalorian proud."

"Grogu means everything to me," Din says honestly. "He has from the moment I saved him. He is my son, and I would do anything for him. He's already had to face so much pain at such a young age. I want to give him a good, happy life."

Castyl smiles fondly. "In only one day I've seen how abundantly clear that is. You've grown into a better man than I could have hoped for, Din. I really am so proud of you. I want you to know that."

Din feels himself get choked up at that, unaware of how much he needed to hear those words from this specific man, even if it is two decades too late. "Thank you," he says softly as his eyes mist over.

With a tip of his glass in your direction, Castyl then asks, "And your woman? What does she mean to you?"

Din takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he prepares himself to admit the thing he's been keeping hidden underneath his armor plated heart for far too long. "She is to me what Daro is to you, Cas. She means more to me than any creed. They both do. And it scares the kriffing hell out of me."

Castyl nods thoughtfully. Then Cas rises from his seat, moving to place a firm hand on Din's left shoulder as he looks down at his ex-foundling with nothing but love in his dark eyes. "Then you know what you need to do, my boy. Live the life you want to live, not the one you've been told you should live. The reality is that no one is forcing you to do anything other than yourself, and that fact alone is going to slowly kill you if you let it. Stop holding back simply because you think you must. Your heart has been missing something since the day I found you hiding under the rubble of Aq Vetina, Din. If you finally found the thing that fills that void, hang on to it with every bit of strength you have left. There are only so many chances at true happiness in this galaxy."

Cas' eyes bore into Din's through the visor with so much intensity, Din feels as if he cannot breathe while more words flow from the man he once trusted above any other. Words which shake Din down to his very core.

"Creed or no creed. Helmet or no helmet. You are a Mandalorian warrior, Din Djarin. No one can take that away from you. The Tribe may never be able to understand this concept, and that's something you have to make peace with. Continue to live with honor and loyalty in your heart, and you'll always make yourself and that family of yours over there proud. Perhaps that can be enough."

*****

The following morning, after another scrumptious meal à la Castyl Vanda, Daro declares that he'd like to take you and Grogu back into town to try on some of his wares free of charge. Castyl similarly declares that he has some things to attend to around the farm. So, after enjoying his private serving of the satisfyingly hearty breakfast, Din is left to his own devices while everyone is off doing their own thing.

Soon after you and Grogu are gone, the Mandalorian finds himself pacing around the first floor of the Razor Crest, knowing once and for all that his entire universe has shifted in a way that it will absolutely never go back to how it was before. And would he ever even want things to go back to the way they were before? Looking around his home and the presence of his family's life taking up every inch of it, he decides that, no, he would never want things to go back to the way they were before. He's known that since Tatooine.

It’s simply just too much for him to bear anymore. All of it.

Between finally understanding what it's like to have a true family, the stinging words Bo-Katan said about Din being raised in a religious cult, and the meaningful conversation he had with Castyl the night before, the Mandalorian is questioning everything that he’s ever believed in. The questioning physically hurts, deep down within his soul where there has been an ongoing, bothersome ache he hasn't been able to quell for months.

Two sides of himself are at war, and Din is incredibly at the end of his rope. He's ready to surrender to whichever side is going to win at this point, as un-Mandalorian as the concept of surrender may be.

He's so tired. Tired of running across the galaxy. Tired of fighting. Tired of having danger at his heels. Tired of uncertainty at every turn. Tired of keeping himself hidden from the ones he loves most.

Din wants stability, as much as a thing like that can exist in such an uncertain galaxy. A life full of love and happiness, rather than loneliness and violence. One where he can wake up in a bed and not a bunk. Where he may openly kiss his wife without a blindfold shielding her eyes from him, and let his son see the love in his own eyes when Din shares his vast knowledge of the universe with his boy.

He's wanted that for longer than he'd care to admit, long before Corvus or anything else which has led to this turning point. He's wanted it from the moment you'd laid in bed with him and tried to guess what he looks like.

But a Mandalorian’s sense of duty is so strong, so vibrant. How can he truly question what he’s come to know for thirty years? The thing he felt so sure of as a young man? The creed he’s built his entire life around? The confusion he feels towards his very way of life at this moment is causing the walls of the Razor Crest to feel as if they are closing in on him. He’s starting to feel as if he cannot breathe. Everything feels so fucking tight that it makes him need to tear all of the beskar from his person.

So he does. He begins ripping the armor from his torso, his arms, his thighs. The pieces of beskar which used to be more precious to him than anything are now clanking thunderously to the ground. Din simply leaves everything strewn about the ship as he unconsciously makes his way towards the cockpit.

Then a wildly scary thought, nothing more than a whisper really, dances lightly at the back of his mind. This isn't the first time this particular thought has crossed his mind recently, but the voice of his internal monologue is suddenly sounding both like himself and like someone else entirely. Din feels as if he may throw up when the severity of the thought hits him, along with more of that strange sense of relief flowing past the initial fear of it.

Show them. Show them. Show them.

The helmet drops unceremoniously to the ground with a loud clunk, reverberating eerily throughout the empty ship.

*****

Daro is so cool despite how bitchy he was to Din at first, which you gently confronted him about on the speeder bike ride into town. After a heated at first, but eventually friendly conversation, you discovered that Daro Tane had a rough childhood just like the rest of you, and because of this he has a lot of hard feelings that he tries to cover up with humor and snark. He loves Castyl very fiercely, and according to Daro the paternal separation from Din had been incredibly hard on the older Mandalorian.

"He cried for nearly two days straight after we dropped Din off on Concordia. Nothing I said or did helped. He wouldn't eat. He just cried and said he was a failure. I hated Din for that. I hated him for not seeing our love as a good thing, and for shaming my husband's choice to be with me over the creed. It took Castyl a long time to move on from that. So, I'm sorry for being hard on your beloved, but he kind of deserves it." Daro told you blatantly as he sped through the path between tall, green trees with you and Grogu on his back.

"Well, Din's a different person now. He was just a kid when that happened," you readily defended your man, "But I understand why you feel defensive on Cas' behalf. Because, I'll admit, I was ready to hate Castyl on Din's behalf. Both of you, really. From my perspective, you guys traumatized Din when he was too young to process that on his own. Din may have hurt your husband, but your husband was a grown man who could have explained himself to his foundling. I'm not trying to argue with you, though. You've been gracious hosts and I think that all of this is very complicated. Plus, you guys are a cute couple. You seem to really be in love. You get points from me for that at least."

After that, realizing that the both of you love your men so much that you're both willing to defend them until the bitter end, getting along with Daro was incredibly easy.

His clothing truly does feel as if it's supernaturally special. As far as you know, Daro doesn't seem to be Force sensitive, just incredibly talented. Each piece is a work of art not meant to be worn for anything other than pure aesthetic pleasure. Pieces meant for luxury, not for life in space.

Had the garments "chosen" you and Grogu as Daro put it? That, you're not sure of. All you do know, is that you and Grogu have each brought home something new that makes both of you feel absolutely like your best selves. On impulse, you've brought something home for Din as well. You hope to hell said impulse to get him something goes over well with your man.

Now you're back home at the Razor Crest, excited to show Din the fancy new clothes you and your son now own thanks to Din's not-really-but-sort-of stepdad.

"Hey, Din! We're back, ner Verd!", you call up the ramp as you hastily ascend its incline.

Grogu makes a little noise of concern from his perch in the leather satchel on your right hip, and that's when you see the glinting silver scattered about the room as the ramp is closing back up behind you.

"Da," Grogu says, frowning as he looks up at you with a tiny furrowed brow, clawed hand gripping for your arm with worry.

"It's okay, Green Bean. I'm sure there's a good explanation for this," you say, voice wavering as the panic is already beginning to rise up your throat like bile.

Pieces of Din's armor and the top layer of his clothing are strewn haphazardly around the ship. It worries you, but stomach truly drops down to your feet when you realize his helmet is laying uncaring on its side, right by the ladder leading up to the second floor.

Mortified, you begin to really panic.

Where is he? What could possibly be going on to leave him armor-less in such a way? Did Cas do something to him? Has your family been in the den of an enemy this whole time and you didn't even know it?

Thinking of Ranik and the night the horrible brain eating alien ambushed your family in this very room, you quickly throw down the sack full of clothing and move to the weapons locker, slamming a frantic hand on the controls.

The compartment swishes open and you grab your blaster from its rightful place, ensuring that the safety is off. You'd only taken a small dagger with you into town, and you know that is not enough if there is real danger afoot. With Grogu still cradled protectively in the satchel to your side, you raise the gun-like weapon with both hands and begin to scan the scene with the tactical eyes Din's been training you to use.

"Din?! Are you here?!" You call out assertively, making your presence known to any intruder as you inch your way towards the ladder leading up to the cockpit.

"Cyar'ika! Grogu!" Din's unmodulated voice breaks through the silence, coming from the hole in the ceiling. He sounds... fine? Good? Great, even?

You cannot see him, but fear suddenly rips through you that you may see him by accident. Then a dark brown boot appears on the first rung from the top and you nearly scream. So you drop the blaster as quickly as you can, covering Grogu's eyes with your right hand while your left covers your own.

The kid makes little frustrated noises of argument and claws at your fingers, but you ignore him for the sake of how dire this situation has suddenly become to you.

What is going on?!

"Din what in the actual hell are you doing?! Have you gone crazy?!" You ask wildly as you hear him descend the rest of the rungs, boots making contact on the ground with soft thuds.

"Honestly? I do not know." You hear him clearly, no speakers filtering his handsome, calm voice.

He sounds like he's only a few feet away from you, and his energy feels like a strange combination of the most serene you've ever felt him, and deeply nervous at the same time.

"But what I do know is that I am very tired, ner Cyare," he adds, the tone of his voice soft.

"Please, Din. Put the helmet back on," you urge, "so I can let Grogu down and we can talk properly about whatever it is you're feeling."

"That's the thing," Din's voice is barely a whisper, so full of vulnerability and raw emotion which ripples so vividly to you in The Force, "I don't think that I want to put it back on."

Your own emotions feel frayed, confusion rising in you as your heartbeat speeds up. Even though he admitted to you that he's been struggling with this and you're certain it's why you're even on Batuu in the first place, it still feels so sudden. The suddenness of it is making you shake a bit with anxiety. Underneath that anxiety, though, is an excitement you're not willing to play into just yet. "W-what are you saying, Din?"

You hear him let out a long breath before declaring, "I'm saying I want you to look at me. The real me." He sounds even closer now, maybe arms length away. Grogu is now fighting fervently against your hand, but you won't let up. Not yet.

"I-," you falter, face getting hot, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just look at me, Cyar'ika. Please," Din sounds desperate as he pleads with you, physical presence moving in closer.

You shake your head against your own grip, "But this is crossing the line we agreed to never cross. There's no going back from this, Din."

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel a bare hand come to gently tug at your fingers. A bare hand you know the touch of very well. You do not relent your own hand, though.

"Please, Cyar'ika," he pleads again, voice so soft as he gently pulls on your hand, "see me."

"I'm scared to, Din," you whisper, "what if this changes everything?"

"That's kind of the point," his voice takes on a playful tone, and a little sob threatens to erupt from your chest. Because all you’d have to do is open your eyes and then you could also see the playful look on his face. 

He's serious about this, and the gravity of that feels unlike anything you can compare it to. No one has ever made you feel the way Din Djarin makes you feel, and now he's trying to do the one thing you fear he may regret for the rest of his life and eventually hate you for. If this changes the relationship negatively, everything would come crashing down around you in ways you know you'd never truly recover from. He's helped you learn to be a warrior over the past year, but what if you're still not strong enough to handle this?

The grown up part of you wants to just take the plunge and open your eyes. The scared little girl who's been blamed for the poor decisions of others and hurt by nearly everyone in her life will still not allow it. There is a third part of you at work as well, the part that feels deep empathy for the man you love and wants to always respect his unique way of life.

Shaking your head again, you argue, "But what if you decide that this is a mistake? I don't think I can live with myself if you eventually resent me or Grogu for this. This is your creed, Din. The thing that you care about more than anything."

Din sighs, his hand dropping from yours. A fuzzy tingle of loss is left behind from the touch. His voice sounds almost hurt, and that makes you even more anxious. Hurting him is the last thing you want, even through the fear of your own pain.

He speaks honestly, "My creed used to be the most important thing in my life, but I do not believe that it is anymore. I don’t believe that has been true for a long time. My family is the thing that I care about more than anything now. You and Grogu mean far more to me than a a beskar helmet and the ancient words of a dead planet I'm not even from. My life was empty before I had the two of you, regardless of the creed."

The truth flows from your lips freely, "I'm really scared that you will regret this and blame me or Grogu for what is ultimately your choice. I don't want to ruin what we have, and I won’t let you do that to our son.”

His voice turns very serious, "I promise you that this is my choice and mine alone. I would never do that to you or to Grogu. It is cruel and without honor. I may be ready to give up living by the creed but I am not prepared to stop living by my values. I have the heart of a Mandalorian, and I do not intend to let that heart stop beating to the tune of their drum. I do not intend to stop being the warrior you fell in love with. Ni gar Verd, ner Cyare. Ratiin."

"I just don't know, Din. I’m so scared," you murmur softly, those final three words barely audible.

You feel a kiss being placed to the fingers over your eyes, a mustache tickling your skin. Then the soft, unmodulated voice of your cosmic companion becomes playful again, "Come on, you're the one who swears I must be handsome. Don't you want to see for yourself?"

You feel him pulling at your hand again, and this time you let him lift it away from you. You're still shielding Grogu with the other hand, and your eyes themselves remain closed. He brings it to his own face, placing a kiss in the palm before cupping it softly to his scruffy cheek. Then he says something that makes your eyes snap open whether you're ready to allow them to or not, and your entire universe changes in that very instant.

"I want you to look into my eyes when I ask you to be my wife."

Gasping, your stomach somersaults inside of your body as your jaw lands nearly on the floor.

After knowing him for well over an entire year, knowing him better than you’ve ever known another living being, your brain cannot even comprehend that you’re actually seeing the man you love. Gazing at what had been hidden from you all this time.

You've imagined Din’s features countless instances, trying to guess what his face looked like from the sound of his voice alone. It was an impossible task, you knew, but even your wildest fantasy hadn’t prepared you for the handsome cut of his jaw, the long line of his broad nose, the scruff of facial hair on his cheeks. His lovely curly hair, dark brown and mussed, like he had run his hands through it after removing the helmet.

His beautiful deep brown eyes are so kind, so loving, so intense, that you can't hold eye contact for very long. It simply feels too overwhelming. He seems to also feel very awkward about it, only able to hold eye contact of his own for a moment or two at a time.

So your eyes move on to the mustache nestled above his naturally pouty, plump lips. God, those fucking lips. That's what those look like? 

"Hi," he says, so shyly that it nearly breaks you in two. Watching those lips move congruently with the voice you love more than any other sound causes a little sob to escape your throat.

"Hi," you say back, voice shaky.

Another sob escapes from your own lips, and the hand holding Grogu's eyes finally releases the poor kid so that he may look at Din as well. The child makes little noises of excitement from your hip, reaching for him while crying out, "Dada! Dada!"

Din laughs a little, a spark of relief in the sound although his eyes still hold the nervousness you sense him experiencing with your ability. Watching him laugh, though, having a visual to put with the melody you adore more than any song on the iPad, is more beautiful than you could have ever thought it to be. Your eyes well with tears at the reality of it.

Then Din reaches for Grogu, lifting the boy out of the satchel and right up to his exposed face. The kid looks at Din with wonderment for a long moment, then he squeals with delight, tiny clawed hands grabbing at the neatly trimmed beard of his father figure for the very first time. Din's beautiful brown eyes slip closed as if experiencing a moment of untapped fatherly contentment from his son's touch.

When they snap open again, he asks, "What do you think, buddy?" As Din speaks to the little green baby, he bounces him in the air and adds, "I'm not too ugly, am I?"

There's a trace of fear in the question, and you realize that it's somewhat directed at you as well. He glances at you nervously, the vision of it causing your chest to swell almost painfully.

"You're the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on, Din," you confess honestly.

He seemingly has to look away from you after that. So bashful, so scared of what you think of him. Not something you would have expected from your fierce warrior after how close you've grown. "I am sure that's not true, but I appreciate the compliment all the same," he says timidly.

You give a curt shake of the head, frowning a little. "No. Don't do that. You asked me to look at you, so I am looking. And I like what I see. A lot, Din. You're gorgeous. I cannot believe how much you exceeded my expectations, or how lucky I am. I know you feel self conscious, but I promise you don't need to. "

He bows his head in thanks, flushing. Good lord he blushes well too, the rouge tinge turning his naturally tan cheeks such a lovely shade. It nestles into his flesh just above his scruff, looking like a sunset plunging down into to the treeline of a forest.

"You are too kind," he says, glancing away once more.

"I am in love," you say plainly.

Finally feeling brave enough to touch him, you reach out to run a finger along his neatly trimmed hairy chin. There's a taste of gray nestled among the dark, which you hadn't really expected, but only serves to make him more desirable to you.

"I mean," you clarify, "I loved you before. I was willing to love that beskar face for the rest of my life. You know that. But this really does change everything."

"Like I said," he smiles a little, plump bottom lip parted slightly from it's brother, "that was kind of the point."

Oh fucking hell, this man's smile is going to be a new thing to break you entirely.

"God, you're a bit too much for me right now," you say, looking away for a moment. A wide smile of your own creeps onto your mouth. A giddy one, similar to the night when the two of you consummated the relationship and your facial muscles felt sore the next day from how much you'd grinned. "Your mouth is so lovely to me, Din. Your smile is so handsome."

He chuckles, batting his eyes shyly, "I take it that's a good thing?"

You nod, "Yes, just overwhelming. All of it is overwhelming. I certainly didn't wake up today thinking I'd get to see your face."

Din moves in closer, bringing the three of you into a small family huddle. "I'm overwhelmed too, Cyar'ika. I didn't plan for this either. But it was time."

"So does this mean you're not a Mandalorian anymore?" You ask softly as you meet his dark brown eyes only inches away, weary of upsetting him with the question but needing to understand where he stands with all of this.

"It means I am no longer a part of The Tribe. I'm still figuring out the Mandalorian part. I do not wish to stop living my life like one. We've met others who choose to wear the armor as they so please. Perhaps I can decide what the balance is without compromising that part of me entirely. All I know is that I could no longer compromise this part of me. The part of me that needs this family more than I need that helmet." He finishes by gesturing to the forgotten thing on the floor.

You breathe a small sigh of relief, thankful that this is how he views the decision. "I will support you in any way that I can while you figure yourself out. I hope you know that, Din. I will always support you."

Din smiles, more broadly this time, nodding. "I do know that. And that is why I needed to do this-wait, hang on." Din sits Grogu down on the ground as his eyes light up with excitement. It makes him look almost boyish for a moment.

Din moves to the weapons locker, still open from when you thought a threat was on the horizon. Watching his face as he moves around, concentrating on what he's looking for, is mesmerizing. He comes back over to you with items in each hand. One is obscured by a closed fist, and the other is too large to do so but wrapped up in a scrap of dark fabric.

He unwraps the large item to reveal a dagger, similar in size to the one you usually use but with a larger hilt and curved, wide blade. The hilt is actually wrapped in an intricately braided dark purple material. The blade itself is adorned with an engraving of your first name written in the Mando'a alphabet along its dull edge, starting at the tip. Under your first name, the surname of Djarin is etched in place of the one you brought with you from Earth. Under that, just above the hilt, is an engraving of a mudhorn skull similar to the one on your beskar. You look down at the weapon and then up at Din, stunned and confused. 

He then opens his closed palm, revealing two metal rings. One is larger than the other, but both rings are identical in design; dark silver much like his armor with a single gold line in the center of each band. Your eyes begin to water as your breath catches in your throat.

Din dives into an explanation, the vibrancy in his eyes causing you to swoon. "In Mandalorian culture we give a weapon as a gift of betrothal. I made this dagger a few months ago, with the help of your grandfather when we were staying on Tatooine. It is a vibro-dagger, and it's more powerful than the one you've been borrowing from my personal collection. There is an energy cell within the hilt which creates vibrations within the blade, making it easier to slice open a difficult target."

He then lifts the smaller of the two rings, holding it between his thumb and index finger. "I also made these, using a broken scrap of hull from the Razor Crest. A piece of our home to always keep with us. Your grandfather helped me with that too, and Peli helped me to figure out what size it should be. Richard explained the significance of wedding rings on Earth. He also told me I should do this on one knee," Din says as he drops down to that very same position right in front of you.

"Din," you breathe, already feeling the hot tears ready to run freely down your face. Your whole body lights up as you realize what is happening.

He says your name, and watching it dance upon his lips and snake from his tongue with such intensity in his deep brown eyes leaves you weak in the knees. "Please do me the honor of becoming my wife, if you'll have me as your husband."

"Yes!" Flying into his arms, you knock him backwards on his ass as you kiss his gorgeous face all over, agreeing to marry him over and over again between pecks. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Din grunts when his ass hits the floor and, though you hate to ever hurt him, even the pained expression he makes fills you with so much joy. Every expression is probably going to do that to you for the foreseeable future.

The kid waddles over to join his two grown ups, and Din sits the two of you back up to look down at him seriously. You watch as two pairs of beautiful brown eyes meet, seeing the love held there in both sets as they really get to look at one another. Din's begin to mist over. You see it clear as day, and your own become so wet that Grogu looks blurry until you blink the tears away. 

"I have something for you as well, Grogu," Din says in an emotional voice, the fatherly smile he graces the child with causing you to swoon. He pulls a piece of silver from his pocket. The thing appears to be another dagger, only teeny tiny in comparison, with a similar mini engraving of the mudhorn skull etched into the blade as well.

Din smiles at his son, leaning his bare forehead to press into the child's, tan flesh in contrast to green while somehow also complimenting each other perfectly. "I made this with the intention of giving it to you if you were going to leave with Ahsoka on Corvus. I wanted you have a way to protect yourself without me around to do it for you, and something to always keep you connected to your mom and I. But, now that you're here to stay, I want you to have this as a gift of adoption. What do you say, pal? Would you like to officially become Grogu Djarin of Clan Mudhorn? I can add your name to this just like on your mom's."

Grogu responds with a happy little "Dada!", before using his power to launch himself into Din's welcoming arms for a hug. Din, careful not to let the boy cut himself on the new blade, nuzzles the top of the kid's head with his broad nose, inhaling the scent of his child without any beskar in the way. He's smiling so widely you wonder if his cheeks can take the force of it.

As if sensing that she was missing out on something, Jupiter appears from one of her many hiding spots and comes to rub her head into your thigh. She purrs loudly as you scoop her up into your arms, nuzzling your own nose into the orange fur atop her head. If she's noticed or cares that Din has removed his helmet, she makes no show of it as cats are want to do. You wonder idly if she's seen his face before, being the sneaky little thing that she is. Perhaps his creed has been broken this whole time, unbeknownst to anyone. How rich would that be?

The ship settles into silence for a long while, Din's dark eyes meeting yours every now and again. You're both starting to be able to hold contact for a little longer each time, but an awkward timidness is still at the surface of every silent interaction.

It's so interesting to see him like this, causing you to wonder how much of this behavior had been hidden from you all this time. How many glances had become awkward or shy? How many different expressions had he held for you when the two of you were first spending those long bursts of time in hyperspace getting to know one another? 

There was that one night, shortly before the incident on Smuggler's Moon, when the kid had gone to bed and the two of you stayed up nearly all night talking. At the time it had been the longest bout of hanging out yet, lasting just over five hours.

With fondness making a nest in the warm den of your heart, you remember just how handsome his modulated, sleepy voice sounded when he'd yawned and realized how late it was getting. You’re able to hear it in your brain as if it happened yesterday, because it’s a night you think about often. In all honesty, it may have been the first moment you really started to feel actual love for the then faceless and nameless Mandalorian. Before you ever knew him as the man Din Djarin who sits before you now. 

Your friendship with him blossomed into something real that night, when you'd realized that you were getting to know him well enough that the barrier of beskar between you was feeling less and less like a barrier with each passing day. If anything, the helmet had grown oddly legible to you just as much as it had been strangely alluring. Sure, perhaps your then unknown force sensitivity played a role in all of that, but you still feel it in your bones that you were getting to know him regardless of otherworldly factors.

Mando’s baritone struck a nerve in your core that night when he’d laughed so heartily, saying in a laid back tone you would soon become intimately familiar with, “You know, by the time we go to sleep the kid will probably be waking up. Why did we do this to ourselves?”

“Because you love talking to me and I’m amazing company and we’re like thiiiiis close to becoming best friends,” you'd replied, smiling broadly at him as you pinched a thumb and forefinger close together, drawing out the letter "i" in "this" with a genuine lightheartedness riding your words.

A handsome chuckle, one you remember causing your core to heat several degrees, had hissed out from the helmet’s modulator. Mando’s amusement dripped heavily on his tone as he leaned forward to say, “Honestly, I think we both know that I just carried that five hour conversation and you’re the one who loves talking to me.” He’d even gone so far as to say your name in a tone which caused a deep blush, his surely triumphant smirk nearly audible from behind the beskar.

“You didn’t deny the best friend thing, though,” you bit back playfully, moving your bare foot to daringly shove at his armor plated thigh in a blatant flirtatious gesture. 

The Razor Crest's cockpit is small, and the two of you were always sitting much closer than you'd ever realized. Your leg stretched over to him easily, so shove at him you had. But, at the time you hadn’t bore witness to very many of Din’s Mandalorian skills yet, so you hadn't anticipated his gloved hand to catch your foot with practiced agility. You certainly hadn't expected his surprisingly nimble fingers to start massaging into the sole of said foot while he chose to continue on with his story and not mention his scandalous touch whatsoever.

It’d been so hard to pull yourselves away from each other after that. You remember so clearly how certain you were of your feelings for him in that moment, and how you hoped deep down in your gut that he was feeling the same way. His lingering presence in front of the cot, the way he’d tucked a strand of your once long hair behind your ear and leaned down as if he wanted to kiss you. His silver face had hovered inches from your fleshy one, and the tone of vulnerability he’d used to tell you goodnight had been legendary. You’d fixated over its hidden meaning for days after that. 

Butterflies fill your belly with the memories of your budding romance, and to think that things have evolved enough now that he's shown you his face.

Images of those gorgeous deep brown eyes smoldering into yours unbeknownst to you fill your mind. How much longing had been blazing there when he first touched your naked form in that shower on Nevarro? How much need the first time he entered you a few weeks later? It had been ever present in his voice, but to see it in his eyes? It’s enough to make you dizzy.  

Seeing his face now, the magnificence of it, you're suddenly dying to know how he must have looked that night with his hands on your foot and your name riding the yearning lacing the tone of his voice. All those months ago, when everything felt so uncertain and new. It's an expression you wager you'll eventually know like the back of your hand, but to understand just which one it must have been is impossible. That was a private moment for him. But now everything is out in the open, and you're free to learn this side of him which has been blocked from you for so long.

Tentatively, you softly call out his name in the silence, "Din?"

His head snaps to you, so different than it would have looked with the helmet on. The kindness in his smile reaches all the way to his eyes, and he leans over to place a kiss in your hair. "What is it, ner Cyare?"

"I don't want to wait. How soon can we be married and do the adoption? And how do we even go about it? On Earth you have to get permission from the government and pay for the legal documents. They make you jump through a bunch of hoops. How does it work here with only rituals and words?" You hadn't thought about that before, but how does something like this work when the two of you don't belong to any one planet's government?

Din regards you softly, a hopeful glint in his mesmerizing dark eyes. "Well, if you are alright with doing this the Mandalorian way, then all we have to do is recite the vows to one another. It's the same with adopting Grogu. We just say the words, but with true intention in our hearts. The ritual is intended to be private and can be done anywhere. There are no legal documents, only the bond we share as a family."

"Seriously? That's it?" You ask with a laugh, and Din looks hurt for a moment. Shit, how many times has that happened in the past? "Oh, Din, I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at the ritual. I was laughing because on Earth getting married has become a ridiculous spectacle. Some couples invite over a hundred guests to watch them exchange vows and spend insane amounts of money on things like decorations, food, and drink.”

Din makes a scrunched face of disapproval, and your heart soars at the sight of it. It’s like you’re getting to fall for him all over again. 

"But,” he says earnestly, “marriage is a sacred thing between two people. It is not meant to be a spectacle. Some Mandalorians will have a celebration afterwards with their loved ones, but the ritual itself is to be performed in complete seclusion."

You laugh again, pressing a kiss to his exposed, gorgeous lips. “See? I was laughing because I have never agreed with the Earth customs. Sure, I always wanted a pretty dress and maybe some cake, but I never wanted all that other stuff. I always felt like marriage was supposed to be about the couple, and the couple alone.”

“Mm," Din hums pleasantly, Adams apple bobbing slightly, "I am glad to be in agreement.”

“Me too,” you say with a content little hum. A plan comes to mind then, so you ask your cosmic companion and soon to be husband, "How does this evening sound?"

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

It all started when you got up to start your day and realized that you'd also started your period. You noticed the pain immediately, then you felt the distinct warm wetness between your legs and cursed. Sure enough, when you ran to the fresher to check there was a small, crimson stain on the crotch of your new favorite pair of comfortable sleep pants. A pair you’d recently received as a gift from Din, actually. 

There’d been no occasion for it, he’d simply just come home from a trip to a market with what you would equate to the closest thing you’ve found to sweatpants in this galaxy. You’re not sure of the material, but they stretch and they are far warmer than your thin and frankly worn yoga pants from Earth. Wearing the same few outfits for nearly a year straight means that the flimsier fabrics of Earth are already starting to fail you. You’ve been patching holes and making due where you can, but a new wardrobe is something you daydream about at least once a day. 

Din must have noticed how cold you were the night before and simply took care of the problem. Din took care of you in the way that a husband would, and the warmth of the garment was nothing compared to the warmth which spread through your chest at that moment. 

He even bought the pants in a color he knew you would enjoy, a lighter shade of purple. Light enough that it made the spot of blood that much more frustrating to deal with as you unsuccessfully tried to hide it from him. Logically, you knew Din wouldn’t care about the stain, but you still felt the need to sneak around like an embarrassed teen having a period for the first time. The anxiety of it was far too much to handle first thing in the morning, and irritability slowly began to infiltrate your steadily dysregulating nervous system.

Needless to say, what a miserable way to start your day. This is certainly a morning you hadn't planned for upon waking. In fact, you'd been hoping to take Grogu on a hike today. The planet you're currently stopped on for a few days rest is full of lush jungles and, according to Din, there's a waterfall about a mile's hike north from where the crest is parked. The plan had been to get started right after breakfast.

Well, that plan died along with the egg lost somewhere in your uterine lining. All you want to do now is curl up in the cot and cease to exist for a few hours.

Usually your monthly cycle is something you feel fairly confident in predicting, but the one your body is being burdened with this month is already proving to be something you have zero control over. It completely snuck up on you this time around, leaving you without your usual coping mechanisms as you try to make it through the morning routine with little success. 

You try to do your morning yoga, but peter out with fatigue fairly quickly into it. Soon afterwards, the cramps begin to really take hold and the pain is already way too intense to deal with.

Din himself seems to have also woken in a bit of a mood, which he confirms when he informs you that he feels a bad headache coming on and he, only half-kindly, says that he needs the ship to be quiet until he's got some caffeine and some bacta pills in him.

Then you both find out the hard way that the caf maker is finally done for, having needed to be replaced weeks ago. It'd been hanging on by the threads of Din's tinkering for months, but after some thick black slime comes out of it instead of the normal deep brown liquid adjacent to Earth coffee, the two of you begrudgingly decide it best to throw the thing out and look for a new one the next time a chance arises.

But without the caf, it's clear that Din's headache is only worsening. His mood eventually begins to suffer for it, which you can only somewhat sense through the storm of your own heightened emotions swirling through The Force.

Now it’s further along into the morning and the pain in your abdomen and thighs feels so awful that your mood is beginning to suffer along with your body. It’s bad enough that you catch yourself needing to brace against the wall in order to keep steady through the hardest bouts of it.

Worst of all, as much as you hate to ever admit such a blasphemous thing, Grogu is currently being fucking annoying. Extremely annoying, in fact. You love him dearly, but at a time like this when your patience is already worn thin, a needy little boy doing naughty things to get the attention of his down-for-the-count parents is getting under your skin like a bad rash.

The amount of times you've found yourself saying “Grogu, stop,” this morning is driving you fucking crazy. Grogu's been known to drive one a little crazy before, but today he's sending you over the edge.

When he manages to sneak past you during a bad cramp right after breakfast, he gets into the food storage to steal more snacks to eat despite what you know has to be a full belly. You’re so distracted by the pain that you don’t notice him at all when he slips past you. Eventually Jupiter alerts you to the missing child’s whereabouts, but by then it’s too late. Once you’ve found him he's already made a huge mess. 

“Grogu, stop. We just ate, my dude,” you try to say gently, picking him up and moving him over to where a moaning and groaning Din is laying in the cot. A useless Din, who barely watches him as you clean up. The medicine Din took should kick in soon, but his headache has rendered him kaput as far as Dad Duty seems to go.

Din's lack of help only sort of pisses you off. That is, until a sharp cramp rocks through you and, despite your own pain, you continue to dutifully chase after the increasingly rambunctious little boy squirting paint all over the floor of the ship. 

An attempt at distracting the green child with art has never gone more awry in the history of your time with him. When you find him this time, he hasn't spilled a few crumbs in the galley only fifteen minutes prior. No, that mess was a joy to clean up compared to the orange rendition of Jupiter on the wall and the globs of the stuff all over the floor. A Grogu finger painting mural would normally make your heart soar, but you’ve momentarily lost the ability to access the maternal part of you.

Through gritted teeth, you look down at his mischievous little smile and plead with your boy for mercy. “Grogu, sweetie, please stop. I'm begging you to stop. I don't know what's gotten into you today but please give your poor mama here a break. Dad’s no good to us right now and I’m running out of steam fast.”

For about twenty blissful minutes it feels as if your pleas got through to him; that Grogu has chosen the path of logic and reason.

Any semblance of motherly patience you have left in you leaves your body when Grogu suddenly starts yanking at Jupiter's tail from where it dangles off the end of the cot. Groaning, you say, a little harsher than before, “Grogu, stop it.”

He doesn't. Instead he yanks harder, giggling as Jupiter angrily whips her tail back and swipes a threatening set of claws at him over the cot's edge. She didn't make contact with the child, but you're willing to bet that the next paw will.

“That's the only warning you're going to get, Grogu,” you advise, both about his fate with Jupiter should he yank at her tail again and his fate with you should he continue to ignore you. Discipline doesn't come up very often on the Razor Crest, but occasionally time-outs are a necessity. This situation feels like it's teetering very close to the edge of ending in a time-out. 

Then you watch as three fingers move to wrap around the stripes of your cat’s nimble tail, green flesh nestling into orange fur. He yanks the hardest yet and Jupiter howls in either pain or annoyance, likely both, as she lunges for him. The angry cat hisses in his face with another claws-out swipe at the brown fabric of his robes and Grogu falls backwards looking both scared and hurt. 

Clearly having already learned the lesson he was meant to learn about testing Jupiter's limits, Grogu begins to sniffle with the beginnings of a cry.

But your own limits have been pushed to the brink. So before you can stop, you find yourself angrily shouting, “Grogu, I told you to stop it, god dammit!”

The moment that you snap at Grogu, everything shifts. You've never yelled at him before, not like that. He suddenly looks like he doesn’t even know you, and you sense not only fear coming from the tiny child but also betrayal.

That? That’s something you simply can’t handle.

It’s almost as if Grogu suddenly morphs into a young version of you right before your eyes. You’re looking into a mirror of the past, and you’re watching yourself learn that your own family, the ones who were supposed to love you unconditionally, were not to be trusted with your hardest feelings nor with your heart.

Is Grogu learning that lesson about you right now? The very thought of it makes you feel sick. All thoughts of your physical discomfort have left you, replaced only with frantic ones of shame and guilt. 

“Oh, no. Oh, Grogu, sweetie, I didn’t mean to do that,” you say softly, tentatively reaching for him, “I’m so sorry.”

Grogu recoils, flinging himself into Din’s boots to hide his face from you. Din hasn't said anything, but you know he heard you yell at the kid. He's been in the room this whole time, and he came over to presumably step in only moments before your outburst.

That’s when you feel a crack begin to form at the edge of your heart, and instead of facing this feeling of deep shame head on, you flee like a complete coward. All you can think is that you need to get off of this ship and get away from Grogu before you hurt him even more.

You take off for the ramp and slam on the controls, trying to ignore the sound of Din’s voice as he calls your name and the wail of Grogu’s great sobs as you descend the ship’s opening door.

*****

Din is shocked, not angry, that you yelled at Grogu.

He is very angry, however, that you ran from the Razor Crest not a moment later. 

That behavior is completely uncalled for to the Mandalorian, and he’s not going to rest until this is resolved.

Din doesn’t let you get very far, chasing after you without a second thought. You’re running fast, but Din’s legs are longer and he’s able to catch up with you easily. With an upset Grogu riding on his shoulder, Din quickly comes up behind you. He wants to handle whatever just happened, and though he's very frustrated with you, he knows not to approach it like that if he wants to get through to you. If there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that humor is a usually a good way to grab your attention. 

“Don’t make me tackle you, my love,” he warns, a bit of a joke in his panting voice to let you know he’s not so upset with you that the two of you can’t bounce back from this. “You’re running from the Outer Rim’s best ex-bounty hunter, after all.”

Letting out a horrible cry, you’re suddenly dropping down to the ground, hands and knees in the dirt as you begin to sob uncontrollably. Din halts in his tracks, heart wrenching at the pained sounds coming out of you. The way it echoes through the jungle causes a deep frown to form under his helmet.

Okay... so maybe humor doesn’t always work.

Grogu gurgles unhappily next to Din's hidden left ear, and the aforementioned ex-bounty hunter frowns even deeper.

“Cyare,” Din starts, moving slowly to kneel down beside you. Firmly, he uses his favorite name for you, “Cyar'ika, please come back to the ship. We need to talk this through as a family.”

“I don’t deserve this family,” you say darkly, wet face still pointed towards the ground. Little blots of wetness have started to form in the soil between your hands. 

He sees your grimace, even if it’s only half of it, and all of the frustration he felt a moment ago leaves him when he sees just how miserable you look. Now he's merely worried.

“That’s ridiculous,” Din says matter-of-factly. “Come home. Now, please.”

You're shaking your head furiously, ignoring his urging to head back to the ship. “Is it ridiculous? I just spoke to Grogu the way my mother used to speak to me. I’m going to end up ruining him, Din. Ruined and broken, just like me.”

“You’re not ruined, love. Far from it,” Din's reply comes low and soft. His heart aches for you so bad at this moment. He feels that familiarly strange mix of both sadness for a younger version of you and anger towards those who gave you such a false sense of self worth. This isn’t the first time he’s seen the residual pain from your past worm it’s way into your present, and he damns those who couldn’t love you. Since the moment Din first realized that he loved you it’s all he's ever wanted to show you. How anyone could be so cruel to such a good person is beyond him.

“You’re biased because for some odd reason you love me,” you bite back, eyeing him out of your peripheral vision. 

It's clear to Din that your attempt at being snippy is meant to be some sort of challenge. One he doesn't intend to take.

“For some odd reason,” Din repeats sharply, rolling his eyes hard behind the beskar. “You can't be serious with that, cyar’ika.”

A little hiccup emerges from your parted lips, and your voice grows very small as you begin to sit up. “Sometimes I truly don’t understand why either of you love me. Not at times like this. I wouldn’t blame you if you two decided to leave me here. You’d make a hot single dad. I’m sure you’d do well for yourself.” As you say this Din can see that you’re finally ready for humor, trying to joke at the worst time as a way to pull yourself from what you’re feeling. 

Normally he lets these moments slide, but not this time. Not when what you just said gutted him the way that it has.

“Enough!” Din barks sternly, hating himself a little when you flinch at the intensity of it. His tone quickly softens as sighs and he addresses his reaction, “Sorry. I just… I do not want to hear you talk like that, okay? You can feel pain and you can feel remorse for your actions but do not immediately jump to those negative consequences or joke about leaving this family. That’s not funny. I would think you have more respect for us than that.”

Another pained hiccupping noise escapes you, and your eyes cast away from him back to the ground as you very softly whisper, “I only do that because I think it’ll hurt less if it ever turns out to be how this ends.”

“You’re the one threatening to leave. And that would hurt just as bad regardless of your coping mechanisms,” Din says pointedly, brown eyes narrowing only slightly. 

With a growl, you’re slamming a fist into the ground. “I know, dammit! Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. I just feel scared. I've never yelled at him like that before, Din. What if I'm going to be just like my parents in the long run? What if I am not meant to be a mom?”

“I know you're afraid of that, but it is not going to be the case,” Din says softly, moving to place a hand on your back. “It’s okay, love. We're new parents, not your parents. Mistakes are bound to happen. It’s about how you recover from the mistakes, that’s what makes you a good mother. And you are a good mother, cyar’ika. We’re still learning how to do this. These things take time, and some things are just inevitable.”

Once he touches you and says those words, the floodgates seem to open and you’re crying again. Even harder, this time. He lets you sob for a good moment, rubbing circles into the small of your back as you heave and convulse.

As you do, Grogu climbs down from Din’s back. He can feel the tiny body using the cape of his cloak to slide down onto the ground, and the feeling of it fills Din’s chest with warmth for his boy. He smiles, watching as the child walks up to you with a brave look on his little face.

When the child places a tiny clawed hand on your arm, Din hears the breath hitch in your throat as you move up to sit up more on your knees.

Still weepy, though you’re attempting to calm yourself down as you wipe at your wet face with your sleeve, you look at Din for a moment then back down at Grogu.

“Hey, Green Bean,” you say softly, hiccupping every few seconds or so. As your mood dies down, you breathe a little more evenly. Din takes that as a good sign.

Grogu looks a little bit worried as he looks back at Din, so Din gives an encouraging smile under the beskar in the hopes that Grogu can feel it. Then he gives a nod, a physical gesture to show that same encouragement. 

“Go on, Grogu,” Din soothes, “Your mom didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. She was having a bad day and I know she regrets how she spoke to you. It happens to all of us. I’ve done it too, long before she came into our lives. Remember? And you forgave me back then. Right, buddy? You’ll do this too one day if you have a little one of your own. It’s an inevitable part of life. You’ll get overwhelmed and act in ways you’re not proud of. We all accidentally hurt our loved ones sometimes. But like I told your mom a minute ago, it’s about how we recover from these moments that defines who we want to be. As Mandalorians we have certain values we uphold, but there are also the values all living beings should live by. Respect is universal.”

You look at Din with a facial expression he’s not sure he’s ever seen on you. It’s a mix of so many things. Admiration, love, desire, but something else he cannot place. As if you are somehow seeing him for the first time.

In that split second, Din nearly considers ripping the helmet off of his head so that you really can see him for the first time. That impulse feels so close to the surface compared to the recent times he's wanted you to see him. So close to the surface that he's sure he's lost his kriffing mind. But it’s not all selfish. Din also wants you to feel secure in your dual roles as his romantic partner and co-parent to Grogu. Din wants to truly show you what you mean to him.

“Grogu,” you say the child's name softly, pulling Din back to the present as you reach a hand out to the child. Palm facing up, you allow the kid to come to you rather than moving for him.

The kid waddles forward and places three clawed fingers in the palm of your hand. Grogu's big brown eyes shine as he looks up at you. Din watches as your slender fingers enclose around the tiny hand in your fist and you shut your eyes for a long moment. The Mandalorian assumes that you're trying to use your connection to Grogu through The Force to convey what you feel before you speak it out loud.

With a deep breath and eyes open once more, you speak more calmly to Grogu, “I'm so sorry for snapping at you. I am not angry with you and I never was. Not truly angry. Please know that I was only ever frustrated because you wouldn't listen to me, but that doesn't mean I was very angry or that I should have yelled. Yelling at you was wrong and disrespectful. I regret letting my emotions get the better of me. You were just being a kid. I love you so much, Grogu, and I never want you to feel scared of me. Okay?”

Grogu nods, seeming to understand. You seem utterly relieved. 

“We also never want you to feel scared to be a kid,” Din adds, frowning as a memory from their early days when it was just the two of them flares through his mind. He gently rubs the kid's head between the ears, his frown fading away when Grogu chirps lovingly in response. “I know I was a little stern with you back when we first met, but one of the very best parts of you is your curiosity. I should have told you that a long time ago, adika. It's important that you listen to us, but it's also important that you stay curious. You just have to learn that when we want you to listen it's for a good reason. For your wellbeing. Jupiter could have really hurt you, buddy. And you love her, so you wouldn't want to hurt her either, right?”

Grogu nods again, then looks back over to his mother with his arms raised up.

“Your dad is right, but I still shouldn't have lost my temper. Can you please forgive me?” You ask the child sincerely after letting Din finish. 

Grogu climbs up into your arms and when you sigh with relief by pressing your forehead gently to the child’s, Din Djarin feels as if his world has been tilted back on its proper axis once more.

*****

Back on the Crest, it's clear to both you and Din that the culprits of this morning's shenanigans also need to address this incident head on. You see this as an opportunity to teach Grogu an important lesson about boundaries, and Din wholeheartedly agrees. 

So you go and find Jupiter in one of her favorite spots; over in the now unused and disabled carbonite cargo hold. Shortly after your grandfather’s run in with the stuff, Din went ahead and disconnected it completely. You’d voiced fears of the machine's capabilities and the cat's habit of turning on machinery when she shouldn't. Naturally, Din took it upon himself to take care of it. 

You bring her over to the main area of the first floor and sit her on the metal ground, squatting to hold her in place. Din squats down across from you and sits the kid on the ground right in front of the cat, and the two of you share what you understand to be a glance searching for silent confirmation. Each of you gives a single nod to the other, and your heart swells at the level of communication between yourself and your cosmic companion. Oh, how far we’ve come, your mind-voice whispers fondly to yourself.

“Grogu,” Din says, voice deep and full of a newfound fatherly bravado, “apologize to Jupiter.”

You can't help it, smiling broadly at the sound of your love's voice speaking in such a way. He sounds so damn cute it nearly makes you forget the task at hand.

Grogu babbles, saying a few things out loud that only he can truly understand, reaching for the cat.

Jupiter hisses fiercely in response and squirms around in your grasp. With a hand on either side of her you manage to hold the pissed off feline steady, but she's clearly still mad at the child and won’t hesitate to bite or scratch. 

“Oh, come on, Jup. You know he was just playing,” you plead down to the cat. Then you look down into Grogu's big brown eyes and remember that you're his mom for a reason. Because he wanted you to be. He chose you. That's because you'd been doing a pretty good job up until twenty minutes ago. 

So you follow your instincts. Saying, “See, Grogu, this is why boundaries and consent are important. Respect is how we learn to trust the ones we love. If Jupiter doesn't want to play or be touched, then you have to respect that. And when we cross the boundaries of a loved one, we apologize for hurting their feelings like I did with you.”

Din nods, the dim overhead light bouncing off of his silver head. “Mom's right on this one. It's the only way to earn Jupiter's trust back. Believe me. I’ve been where you are, ner ad.”

Grogu looks up at Din, then into your eyes for a long moment, and finally into Jupiter's tawny orbs as a look of determination washes over his young, yet wrinkled, face. Then his own eyes close, and his right hand lifts up towards the cat. A strange sensation flows through your being, and in an instant you somehow know that you just sensed Grogu's power flowing through The Force. A moment after that, Jupiter's body relaxes in your hands, and she gently frees herself to move towards the child. 

Din tenses, which you also feel. How will you ever get used to this? Even after a few months that shit is enough to give you goosebumps. Ignoring how strange the sensation is, you’re quickly throwing a hand up to stop him and then touching an index finger to your lips. You sense that the malice in Jupiter has left her, replaced only with calm. Din nods once, visually trusting you, and you both look back down to watch the display unfolding between the two adults.

Jupiter moves gracefully forward on four paws, stopping just in front of Grogu as her tail waves behind her. The two of them are usually at about eye level, so Jupiter very easily lifts up to nuzzle her forehead into Grogu's. At first you think she's going to rub on him in that way that cats do, but as she purrs loudly for her child companion and his hands lift up to hold her face just below the whiskers, it's obvious that they are sharing a moment of deeper understanding. Then she rubs into him in that way that cats do after all, and the child giggles merrily at the feeling of her fur against his skin.

“Good job, guys,” Din says happily down to the pair, holding a hand out to help you stand as he lifts up from his own squat. “And good job us, I'd say.”

“That went better than we could have hoped for,” you agree, moving into Din's arms as the strong limbs encircle you. With your hands at the back of his warm neck just below the cool metal, you pull his head down to meet yours in a keldabe kiss of your own. “Thank you, Din Djarin. You are such a good man, and you are a really good father.”

“Mm,” Din hums pleasantly, “And I meant what I said outside. You are a good mother. Together, I think we're doing pretty well.”

Warmth floods your system, and you lay your head on your Mandalorian's shoulder as he sways you both back and forth a little. Jupiter and Grogu are already back to being friends down by your feet, playing a game that only they know the rules of. With your perfect little found family surrounding you, it occurs to you that bad days can end up being not so bad after all. Not when you have the right people in your life.

*****

About a week later, Din can't believe it when a Mandalorian encrypted beacon is received up in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. It's coming from the nearby ocean planet, only having enough range to reach just a few clicks away. He knows this beacon very well, as it's how his people have alerted other Mandalorians to their covert for many decades. The code can only be decrypted with Mandalorian technology, and therefore outsiders very rarely find these beacons and even know what they are. If they do, then the covert must relocate. 

It's definitely his covert, the one he was raised in. Din would know these codes anywhere, decrypting them easily. The cockpit door swooshes to life behind him and he knows it's your presence he can feel entering the room. Din greets you with a simple hello, but you must have heard the wavering in his voice.

“What is it, chrome dome?” You ask, coming up behind him with a cup of tea in your hand. You lower it down to him, leaning forward as Din watches you squint at the Mando'a displayed across the holographic display screen.

“My tribe is on this planet,” he answers honestly, gesturing towards the blue-green and orange mass up ahead as he takes the steaming drink from you.

Your eyes light up at that, grinning widely at him, “Seriously?! Can we visit?”

Din stiffens a little at the suggestion, anxiety building within his core. “I'm not sure if that's a good idea,” he says wearily.

You frown at him then, and Din feels like squirming under the scrutiny of it. “Why not?” you ask.

“I feel I have a lot to explain for myself,” he says, eyeing you carefully from behind his beskar. 

“Grogu and I, you mean?”

“Yes,” he lies. That's not it at all, but maker help him, Din cannot voice the truth to you. Not yet. 

“You carried out the mission, Din,” you say gently, adding, “and I thought you said that The Armorer would like me.”

Din nods in agreement, “I believe she would, yes. It's Paz Vizsla and any others like him I worry about. He's a bit of an extremist when it comes to closely following the creed. He's been a thorn in my side for years, and I get the impression that he kind of hates me.”

“'Cause you're way sexier and way cooler than he is?” You say with a laugh, nudging into his shoulder. 

Din chuckles, helmet rubbing into your hand as it grazes the beskar. He wants to kiss your palm so bad, lips pursing slightly at the thought of it. “Something like that, I suppose. I do feel he's always been weirdly jealous of me.”

“Who wouldn't be?” You ask, kissing his covered cheek. It doesn’t seem like you’re joking, or just trying to lift him up. 

Din’s chest flutters at that. “Showing up with an outsider by my side is sure to ruffle his feathers,” he veers off awkwardly. 

A gasp escapes you then, looking down at him with a comical wide-eyed expression. “Wait, does this Pez guy actually have feathers?”

It's a valid question, considering all you've seen and have yet to see, but Din can't help the loud snort which escapes him, followed by a hearty laugh with a hand to his chest. “It's Paz, and I do not believe he has feathers, no.”

“Darn, that would have been cool to see. A bird-person Mandalorian would be kind of crazy,” you giggle, your tongue poking out from the left side of your mouth as you bend forward to confidently type a few things into the computer and the specs for the planet up ahead appear on the display. Din's impressed to realize how competent you've become around the ship, and by how firmly toned your ass has become given that it’s now right in his beskar covered face. If only he could rip the helmet from his head and burry himself into it. 

“Hmm, looks like this planet is just over 79% ocean. That's more than Earth! Oh, Din, please can we go? Even if I don't get to meet your tribe, I'd love a trip to the beach. Swim in the ocean a little, maybe lay out in the sun? Drink from a coconut with a crazy straw?”

Din thinks about it for less than a minute, mulling over his options. When you look at him with those big pleading eyes, he finds he really doesn't even have the urge to say no. 

“If it will make you happy,” Din chuckles, knowing he'll do just about anything at this point to make your happiness a reality. “And perhaps bringing you and Grogu to meet my covert will prove to be useful. Though, I do not think they will have whatever a coke-a-nut is.”

“Coconut. And, I want to know where you come from,” you agree, “It'll at least be useful for me. I have a feeling it'll give me a better perspective of your lifestyle.”

“Perhaps you are right,” he says, laughing again with a shake of his helmeted head when you say to him that you usually are. 

“I'll let you drink that tea while it's still warm. Let me know when it's safe to come back up.” With another kiss to his helmet, you're leaving the cockpit just as quickly as you came, yelling downstairs to the kid, “Grogu! Grab your trunks and your boogie board, kiddo! We're going to the beach!” 

He smiles, watching you start down the ladder as the door shuts behind you, and then Din lifts the helmet from his head. As he takes a long sip from his tea he feels a small pang of guilt for not being completely honest with you. Din's trepidation about visiting the covert doesn't come from a place of fear about how his new family will be received. Din's fear comes from the fact that he's thought about showing you his face every single day since Corvus.

*****

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