#found fic

...

You’ve been on Nevarro for about a week now, and you’re pretty sure this was a bad idea.

You’d avoided the planet for years. Not that it was hard – you weren’t exactly planet hopping, after you left Takodana. You’d ended up on Birren, and you knew why. It was Inner Rim and it was about as far away from Takodana as you could get at the time.

And Birren had been fine. You’d found another cantina job and some friends and distracted yourself pretty well. Distracted yourself from what you had refused to call heartbreak.

Because he had broken your heart. This many years later you knew it to be true. He’d walked out and you’d felt a hole open up inside your chest that you hadn’t even realized he’d filled. He snuck inside of your heart and took up residence without you even noticing.

You’d known, immediately, that he wasn’t coming back.

So you left. Grabbed a transport out, headed coreward, where you knew he rarely went. Eventually you’d made a friend on another transport and followed them home to Birren. You liked it there well enough. 

It wasn’t until years later, when you’d started to think maybe you should think about moving on again, that you realized what you’d done. 

You finally got a good look at a chart – something you’d studiously avoided – and realized that when you ran, you ran closer to the planet you’d never forget the name of, even though you’d never been there yourself.

Nevarro.

It wasn’t exactly next door, but you were far closer to it than you had been on Takodana. You could only laugh. You’d run from him and everything that could possibly remind you of him, and now here you were, light years closer. 

What were the odds?

You very carefully did not notice just how far he’d had to go out of his way to get to Takodana. Nothing good would come from letting yourself think about that.

Anyway, you hadn’t hopped the next ship to Nevarro. You’d traveled a bit after saving money for years and deciding to actually use it. Your old friend, the same one you’d followed to Birren, was heading to Coruscant, and you figured you might as well see it once. From there you actually planet-hopped a bit until one day you found yourself on a transport headed down the Hydian Way.

And you knew what planet was on the Hydian Way. 

Should I bother? You worried over it constantly during the trip, as the planet itself got closer and closer. He’s probably not there anymore, if he ever was. He never actually said. You sighed to yourself. And we never made each other any promises. 

In the end, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to see it just once. But when you stepped off the ship and onto Nevarro’s ashy soil, you grimaced. Black and grey soil, lava, no greenery in sight – it wasn’t exactly what you’d pictured.

As you’d walked towards the town, you’d wondered what you were even doing there. What if you did see him? He didn’t want to see you, that much was clear. He had made that more than clear.

What am I doing here?

It was a question you’d asked yourself more than a few times since you arrived on Nevarro, and you ask it again now as you stand in the market.

You turn towards your temporary dwelling and bite your lip. It’s been a week, and the town is not that big. He’s clearly not here. Why did I even come?

You reach inside your pocket for your comm, wondering if you’ve received any messages that might distract you. But you realize when you do, that it’s not in your pocket.

Groaning, you let your head fall back for a moment and look up at Nevarro’s sky. You sigh and you turn to retrace your steps.

And that’s when you see him.

It has to be him. His armor is different now, but the helmet alone is so familiar it freezes you in place. The light glints off of it, catching your eye, and you can’t help but trace the outline of his body.

Those are his shoulders, alright.

You stare for much longer than you’d care to admit before you realize he’s staring right back at you.

That he was already looking at you when you turned around.

He’s already seen you.

I can’t…

You gasp, comm forgotten, and spin, speed walking out of the market.

How long was he looking? 

The shape of his helmet burns in your mind and you feel tears well up, tears that you haven’t cried for this man in years.

You’re almost there, only feet from the doorway, when a voice rings out that stops you in your tracks.

“Cyar’ika.”

…

Din turns into the market, on his way to see Karga, and is brought up short when a glint of light catches his attention. He looks closer and realizes it’s the bright light of Nevarro’s sun reflecting off of a bronze clasp on a bag strapped around a very familiar shape.

Before he can stop himself, he’s staring. 

Distantly he knows he’s in the middle of the path, blocking everyone and everything, but he can’t do anything about it. He can’t do anything but stare. He’s frozen, rooted to the spot, incapable of turning away.

Din hasn’t seen her in years. 

Years.

And all it takes is a glimpse of her profile, the corner of her smile, the curve of her hips, and he’s thrown years into the past.

He’d know her anywhere, anytime. Any place. He drinks her in now like a man who spent every second of every day since he last saw her stranded in the desert, dying of thirst.

He doesn’t often let himself remember that moment, that pain. He knows now that he’d panicked. He’d heard her ask about where he was from, heard her say there were bounty hunters on Takodana. And then the word “Nevarro” had crossed her lips and from that moment his mind was nothing but static. He was all adrenalin, all flight response, nothing but his training driving him.

He had to leave, he had to run, what if they knew he was here? What if they connected him to her? 

What if she was in danger because of him? 

The covert. He remembers now how he’d kicked himself, at the time. How that had made it worse – his first thought hadn’t been his duty, his responsibility. No, the thought that drove him to jump off the bed and reach for his armor was her. It was only after she stood to follow that he thought of the people he was supposed to protect. 

It had to stay secret. What is he doing here? “This was a bad idea,” he remembers saying, and won’t let himself remember the way her face had looked when he’d said it. No, he sees it enough in his dreams. “I shouldn’t be here” – he knows he’d said something like that, but all he remembers of that moment is the way his entire body had been alert with panic, the way his mind was racing. How could he have put the covert in danger like this? What was he thinking?

When he’d looked at her again, the emotion on her face had struck him like a knife to the chest. But he had to go back home – had to stop letting himself get lost in useless dreams. You have a duty, he remembers telling himself. This is the way.

All he could do to protect her was make her promise to never tell anyone she knew him. Even as he said it, even as he ruined whatever it was he’d found, he’d known. He’d known then that he would never stop thinking about her for the rest of his days.

He stands there, now, in the middle of the market, looking at her smile, and remembers how her face had crumpled, then, when he said he should never have done it. 

All he’d wanted was to touch her. But that was impossible, and all he could do was apologize. 

Din remembers cursing himself and his carelessness when he realized he couldn’t even explain it to her. Couldn’t even tell her why. All he could do to keep her safe was to leave.

He didn’t want to leave.

But it didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter that he only realized how much he cared the moment he turned away, that he knew he’d somehow fallen in love the moment the door shut behind him. He wonders sometimes if it had been selfish, to let himself admit it aloud – if only to himself – in the moment he left her forever. He figured he’d never know. Even when he couldn’t stand it any longer and went back to Takodana, months later, only to find her gone; he supposes he couldn’t regret it. Even if he’d only gotten to say it once, he’d still gotten to say it. To tell her what she meant to him in the only way he could allow himself.

Cyar’ika. 

He closed himself off after that. Why bother looking, when he’d already found her and couldn’t have her? When he’d never see her again?

But watching her now in the market on Nevarro, Din feels something in that corner of his heart that even Grogu can't touch – he feels it shake off years of dust and crack open in his chest.

…

You can’t breathe. Your entire body is frozen, chest and lungs unmoving, as his voice washes over you. That word. 

You don’t turn around, but you feel him step closer. You look down when a hand appears in your peripheral. It’s wearing a familiar glove and it’s holding your comm.

“You dropped this,” he says, and suddenly, you’re furious.

Spinning around, you barely notice you’ve dropped your bag of purchases on the ground as you snatch your comm from his hand. He leans away and almost takes a step back at your glare, clearly startled.

“That’s it?” you demand, hands finding your hips. You stand tall in front of him and watch as he tilts his head at you.

“... what?” he sounds genuinely confused, and that pisses you off more.

“Nothing for years and all you’ve got for me is my comm?” It’s pulsing through you now, this indignation that took root the last time he walked out your door but hasn’t had reason to flower until now.

Mando’s shoulders hunch up around his ears, and you watch as his hand makes a fist and then releases. “I–”

You shake your head. “No, actually. I don’t want to hear it.” You spin again in place, head shaking, hand trembling, and reach for your fob to your apartment.

A large, warm hand gently catches your elbow.

“Wait,” he says, and you shiver despite yourself. That voice. “Wait, please. That’s not… that’s not all.”

He’s almost pleading, and you feel the anger start to leach out of you. “It’s not?” you ask, and you can’t help the hope that bleeds into your voice. Even after all this time, you can’t help but hope there’s a reason to hear him out.

You look over your shoulder and realize he’s standing right behind you. You look up and meet his visor. His hand is still cupping your arm.

“Can we… can we talk?” He asks, voice low. You can’t tell for certain, but it feels like he’s watching your face.

You let your eyes dance over his helmet, the only face of his you’ve ever known, and then look down to his shoulders. They’re tense, and you can tell he’s nervous. Maybe not, you think. Maybe I can’t read him anymore. You frown at the thought.

“If we talk,” you say, slowly turning to face him, “is it going to end with you walking out the door…" he lets go of your arm but doesn’t lift his hand – his fingertips slide softly along your upper back as you turn, making you shiver, before finding a grip on your opposite arm as you face him, “never to be heard from again?” His hand tightens on your arm, not painfully, but you can feel the tremor behind it. You swallow roughly. “Because I can’t do that again, Mando. I won’t do that again.”

He’s shaking his head before you’ve finished speaking. “I– I won’t. I pr–” he’s tripping over his words, and you blink, startled. You’ve never heard him this unraveled, but then, it’s been years since you’ve heard from him at all. He takes a deep, slow breath, and then lifts his visor to look in your eyes again. “My name is Din.”

Your mouth drops open. You stare at him, mind blank, nothing but the word Din echoing inside of you. His name? 

“What?” you breathe, shocked.

“Din Djarin,” he says again, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I should have told you that before.”

You stare at him for a moment. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable under your silent gaze. You nod and spin on your heel, breaking his grip on your arm.

“Well, Din,” you say, and you hear him trip over the step in front of your door. “Let’s talk.”

…

Din follows you inside, and you move to put the table between the two of you without consciously thinking about it. Your mind spins into the past when he touches you and you need some space to think.

Looking at him now, in what has been your home of just a couple of weeks, you find yourself speechless. What do I say? you wonder, at a loss.

Din might still be able to read you, too, because he steps into the gap. “Where did you go after Takodana?”

You blink. “How do you know I left?” You regret the question instantly, because obviously you’d left, you were here, on Nevarro. But he speaks before you can take it back. 

“I went back.”

His words slam into you like blows and you gape at him. “You… what?”

Din seems to shrink a bit before sighing and squaring his shoulders. “I went back. About…” he trails off, maybe doing some mental calculations. “Three seasons later.”

Your mouth drops open, and then you close it. You shake your head. “That’s not long after I Ieft.”

Din seems to take that truth like a blow, too, taking a step back and shaking his head. “Not long?” he says, repeating your words back to you, voice strained.

You shake your head again. “No. And from there, I wandered. Birren, Coruscant… some other places.” You swallow and straighten your shoulders. “I… couldn’t stay.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you wonder what he’s thinking about. The silence stretches, long enough that you shift your weight. You’re about to open your mouth, wondering if you should fill it, when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is stilted but you’re certain it’s sincere, you remember enough to know that. You blink in surprise. Despite everything, you hadn’t expected an apology. Not after this long.

You search for something to say in response – too late? Why now? Are you, really? – but the truth is something you’ve fought long and hard to come to terms with over many sleepless nights, and it’s what you settle on now. “You don’t have to apologize, Mando. We didn’t make each other any promises. Remember?”

He lifts his hand towards you but clenches it into a fist, and lets it drop back by his side. He takes a careful step towards the end of the table and says, “maybe not out loud. I know what we said. But I made you promises in other ways. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that until after I left.”

You tilt your head, confused, thinking over his words. “In other ways?”

He nods and takes another step around the table. “With my body. And my actions.” A shiver runs up your spine, lightning quick, and you inhale sharply. “And please. Call me Din.”

You’re starting to feel like you’re not really present in your body. It’s all so much. Mando – Din – is here, real, in front of you, and he’s apologizing. You blink, dazed. 

“Mando–” you say it without thinking, barely able to form thoughts in the face of his sincerity.

“Din. Please, cyar’ika.” 

“D– Din.” You pause, considering the way his name feels on your tongue as you watch him. He steps closer and you realize that you’re suddenly standing on the same side of the table. You reach out to one of your chairs to steady yourself. “I… ok. Thank you for apologizing.” You swallow with difficulty. He’s standing so close now. “It’s nice to–- I thought…” you trail off, looking at him, and admit something you thought for sure you wouldn’t. “I thought I’d never see you again.” 

He steps closer until he’s standing within arm’s reach. Your heart is racing, but not out of fear. Never out of fear of this man.

“How long are you here?” he asks, voice low. The air between you feels tense.

“As long as I want, really,” you say, a bit thrown at the change in topic, and you try to smile. “I’m a bit of a wanderer, these days. I’d need a job eventually.” You stop yourself before you can do something wild like promise to stay for a long time. You have no idea where this conversation is going and you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

He’s still looking at you, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

“Can I see you again?” he asks. He sounds tense, but he’s completely focused on you and your answer. You can feel it.

You nod, but then you can’t help but say, “Yes but I… I can’t do that again, M– Din.”

He shakes his head. “What if I..” he reaches out and grasps the back of the chair, hand only a few inches from your own. You stare down at it. “What if I said it wouldn’t be like that again?”

You keep your gaze on your hands that are almost touching. His familiar glove threatens to draw up memories you’ve avoided for years. “What?” 

“Cyar’ika, everything… it’s different, now.” He takes a deep breath and tightens his grip on the chair. You still don’t look at him. “I wanted to stay.” The words sound like they’re being pulled from somewhere deep inside of him, somewhere you’d seen before but never touched. “I wanted to stay so badly. I couldn’t… and I thought I had put you in danger. I couldn’t let myself–”

You blink. Wait. You furrow your brow and look up at him, finally, and find his visor still trained on you. “Wait. Din. None of those bounty hunters even glanced at me, they didn’t– they weren’t after me.” 

He shakes his head again. “It’s not… I’ll explain. I’ll explain everything. But please, it won’t be like that this time. I promise.” 

You’re silent for a long moment. You can’t tell what he’s asking for – for what you had before? The pretense of “just sex”? To talk, to explain? Something else? Something more? As you look at him, taking your time to study him, he shifts his weight again, nervous. It makes you smile. You might still know this man, the man under all of that new, shiny armor, after all.

“We go slow,” you say, voice firm. 

He stares at you for a moment and then leans closer. “What?”

“If– if we do this.” You gesture between the two of you with the hand that isn’t holding onto your chair for dear life. “We take it slow. I can’t.. We can’t start where we left off, Din.” 

“I know, cyar’ika, I–” he interrupts, but you keep going.

“Not even if I, ah, if…” you trail off and bite your lip. You look down at his hand again and see that it’s almost touching yours. 

You feel a sudden touch to your chin and realize it’s his other hand, gloved, oh-so-lightly brushing against your chin to lift your gaze. His touch brings you back to yourself, back to your body, and you’re suddenly more present, more real than you have been for this entire conversation. You let him move you and look at the visor again. “Not even if what, cyar’ika?” he murmurs, and you know you’re caught.

“Not even if I want to, still,” you admit. He freezes in place, and then you gasp when his fingers lightly cover yours on the back of the chair.

“That’s probably smart,” he agrees, voice low. You know that voice, that pitch… and it makes you shiver now, just like it did then. “Slow,” he says, and you realize his finger is still under your chin when he extends it to lightly trace along your jaw. “We can do this however you want, cyar’ika. I’ll do anything you want.”

You blink, dazed again. “Ok. Then I have a question.”

“Anything,” he promises, and you smile.

“What’s that mean? Cyar-ika?”

He freezes, and you can’t help but grin. His finger brushes over your cheek, like he can’t help but touch. “I’ll tell you next time,” he says, a bit strangled, and you laugh.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

…

Din agreed to meet her the next day, in the afternoon, for a walk. 

The idea alone makes him smile behind his helmet, where no one could see it. A walk? When was the last time he’d gone for a walk?

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, unable to believe his luck in finding her again. Finding her here, on Nevarro. Finding her willing to give him some kind of chance.

He’s there on time, right in the spot she pointed out the day before, leaning casually (or so he hoped) against the wall when she appears.

“Ready?” she asks, smiling at him. For a moment Din can’t speak, can’t breathe, can only trace the shape of her smile with his eyes and resist the urge to reach out and touch. 

When it starts to fade, he realizes he’s been quiet for too long. “Ready,” he agrees, voice rough. He smiles when he sees her shiver. 

“I thought we could walk towards the shipyard,” she suggests, falling into step next to him. “I haven’t really seen the lava flats much. Thought I might get a closer look.”

He nods. He’ll go anywhere she wants. “Alright.”

They start walking, and Din starts to look for something to say. The entire conversation yesterday felt like it had happened to him, like a wave that crashed over him, rather than something he took an active part in. He remembers everything he said – and kriff, had he really said all of that? – and while it had all been true, he can’t believe he actually said it.

Before he can berate himself more for the deepening silence, she speaks. “Do you still have the Crest?”

Din grimaces and shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh no,” she turns towards him, eyes wide, and reaches out to touch his arm. He stops walking, halting at her touch. She starts to pull away but he reaches over and closes his free hand over hers atop his forearm before she can pull back. “Did something happen?”

He stretches his neck from side to side and then nods. “It… got blown up.”

“What?!” she cries, squeezing his arm, and he can’t help but smile, knowing she can’t see it. She looks so torn, so upset, and he knows it’s on his behalf. He hadn’t wanted to see it back then, but she knows him so well. 

“It’s a long story,” he says, turning and starting to walk again but with her arm looped through his. 

She throws him a wry look and he grins under the helmet where she can’t see. “Well, we have time,” she says.

Din nods. They do, and so he tells her about all of it – finding Grogu, losing the Crest, losing him, getting him back, their new life here on Nevarro. It takes them out to the shipyard, in a wide arc around the parked ships, and the beginning of the walk back, with plenty of questions and reactions that make him smile along the way.

“You have a son?” she exclaims when he tells her about Grogu, and the joy he feels when he nods must be visible to her somehow because she smiles softly. “I can see it,” she murmurs. 

“Yeah?” he asks, suddenly needing reassurance. She knew him when he was young and not exactly at his best, so if she thinks so…

She nods. “Yes, definitely. I know we stayed away from… personal topics, but you were the kids’ favorite, you know? The ones who used to hang around the square outside of the cantina. They talked about you for weeks after every visit.”

He blinks, startled. Kids usually like him, that much is true – they don’t know to be afraid. But he had no idea. “Really?”

She laughs. “Really. But wait, Din, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe you lost the Crest! That must have been so horrible. For you and for Grogu.” She reaches over and squeezes his arm again. At some point during his story they unlinked their arms, just for practicality’s sake, and he feels warmed again at her touch. 

“It…” he trails off. No one has outright said it to him, not like that. He knew he missed her, but kriff. “It was. Horrible.”

She nods. “I haven’t had a home like that, well.” She laughs, but it doesn’t sound happy. He is realizing that he still remembers everything he learned about how she talked and moved and gestured – everything about her. “Maybe not ever. Losing it must have been so hard.”

Somehow her sincere sympathy makes him feel able to talk about something he normally avoids even thinking about. “I have to apologize for something. Again.”

“Oh?” she says, looking at him expectantly.

“I, um,” he shakes his head. “I might have taken one of your bracelets… before. But I don’t have it – it was on the Crest, when…”

“Oh!” she says, and her hand flies to her wrist where he can see a few new bracelets, still colorful, clearly recently made. They’re lovely, as always. “I forgot! I remember, after you left, I noticed one was missing.” She gasps and reaches over to shove him lightly. He lets himself stumble and she laughs. “You thief!” He laughs, too, smiling as she does. “I can’t believe you.”

“I, um,” he says, reaching for whatever courage he had the day before that allowed him to talk so much about all of this. “I didn’t admit it to myself, not for a bit, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted…” he sighs. “I went back with no plan, no idea what I was going to say, just knowing I wanted… you. But–”

“But I was gone,” she says, furrowing her brow. He doesn’t like the crestfallen look on her face and reaches out to take her hand. 

“You were, but I’m the one who left first.” She still looks upset, and he suddenly wishes he hadn’t brought it up. “And we’re here now.”

The corner of her mouth quirks upwards, just a bit, and Din feels his shoulders relax in response.

“What brought you to Nevarro, anyway?” He realizes she never said, and he can’t help but ask. To his delight, she drops her eyes and bites her lip. He knows that tell. Whatever it is, now he has to know. 

“Well,” she starts, and peeks up at him without raising her chin. He grins and squeezes her hand. “I’ve been traveling, like I said.”

“Mm,” Din agrees, leaning closer. 

“And for a long time I maybe avoided this… corner of the galaxy. But last year I found myself on a ship that traded along the Hydian Way.”

He tilts his head. “On purpose?”

She shrugs. “Sort of. I wasn’t admitting it to myself yet, but I never stopped wondering.”

Din steps just a bit closer. He’s close enough now that he could lean forward and touch his forehead to hers. Slow, he reminds himself. He doesn’t. “Wondering? Did you come here to find me, cyar’ika?”

She tilts her head back and forth and he smiles at the familiar gesture. He’d seen her do that so many times when she was telling him stories about her coworkers, lounging around in her apartment. “Not completely? I had no idea if you’d still be here. It was more that…” she trails off and he brings his free hand up to trace his fingertips over her cheek. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. The memory of her skin under his hands is so distant, so worn at the edges in his mind. “More that I was maybe ok with the possibility of seeing you again. And I really never stopped being curious about this place.”

When she speaks, her lips brush against his glove, and he has to bite back the sound that threatens to leap from his mouth. “I’m glad. I might have been able to find you, if I’d tried. But I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

She studies him. He could always tell when she was doing this, looking at him like she was looking for something. Whatever it is this time, it seems like she finds it, because she smiles. “I might have yelled at you if you did.”

“More than you did here?”

She laughs and he can’t tear his eyes away. “Much more. You can only tell me your name once, you know. And I was way angrier back then.”

He smiles sheepishly and ducks his head. “I missed you, cyar’ika. I would have let you yell at me as much as you wanted.”

She’s silent for a moment, long enough that he looks up. Her eyes are narrowed. “It’s next time, Din.”

“What?”

“You said you’d tell me next time. What that word means.”

He feels himself flush under the helmet, glad as always no one can see it. “Oh. Well. I know we said slow.”

Her eyebrows fly upwards. “Oh, well now you have to tell me.”

Din sighs and leans forward, so close their foreheads almost touch. “Cyar’ika…” he murmurs, and watches a shiver travel across her shoulders. “Means sweetheart. Or something close to it. But… more.”

Her jaw drops, and she stares. “Sweetheart?”

He nods. 

Suddenly her hand tugs free of his, but before he can protest she grabs him by both shoulders. “Din. Djarin.”

“Yes?” He loves the way his name sounds on her tongue. 

“Are you telling me,” she asks, squeezing his arms, “that right when you walked out of my life,” he winces at the look on her face, “when I was standing naked in my apartment,” he tries to shrink, but she won’t let him, “you called me something more than sweetheart?”

He clears his throat. “Yes.”

She gapes at him, clearly incredulous, before laughing. She lets her head fall forward lightly until it rests against his own. He sucks in a sharp breath at the gesture. She doesn’t— she can’t know—

“Din,” she says, interrupting his panicked thoughts, and her voice is warm again. He takes a deep breath. 

“Cyar’ika,” he says, and he means it. He means it every time.

She laughs weakly. “You are very bad at this.” 

It’s his turn to laugh. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, still touching his, and he feels something like a tremble in his knees. He shifts his weight without breaking contact with her.

“Back then… I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to choose things. For myself.”

She draws back and he misses her instantly. “What?”

“I had… responsibilities. I’ll tell you about it. But I wasn’t free to choose. And I wasn’t a good man.”

She frowns at him. “No.”

“No?” He realizes that at some point in the last few minutes his hands have come to rest on her hips, and it felt so natural he didn’t notice. He resists the urge to squeeze. 

“The good man I know was always in there, Din. You’ve always been good.”

He’s speechless, split open by her words. She knew him. She knew him better than anyone, really, even without all the details he still owed her. 

And she thought he was good. 

“Will you come to dinner? I want you to meet Grogu.”

She smiles, so wide he can’t help but squeeze her hips lightly after all. He never wants to let go. “I’d like that.”

…

Two days later you follow Din’s directions, walking through the town and then into the outskirts where most of the new houses have been built. You’re taking deep breaths, trying not to be too nervous, but you’ve been thinking about it all day – meeting Grogu. Seeing where Din lives.

You’d dreamed about that sometimes, before. Couldn’t stop yourself from imagining him in a home, some kind of home, on some other planet you’d never seen.

This house is new, of course, so it’s not where he lived back then. But something about going to Din, instead of him coming to you… it’s making you feel excited and anxious and overwhelmed. You’ve barely known what to do with yourself.

And there it is.

You take a moment to study it. It’s charming, with little touches that show a family lives inside. You look over the windchimes hanging from the roof, the little frog figurine by the bench on the porch, the curtains you can see through the window. All of it makes you smile.

You take a deep breath before walking up to the door, blue cookies in hand. You knock.

When the door flies open, Din isn’t standing behind it.

Confused, you look around and then down. When you see who opened the door, you grin. 

“You must be Grogu!” you say, kneeling down. The small, green, adorable child smiles back at you and makes a cooing noise. “It’s so nice to meet you!” You reach out tentatively with your hand, unsure of how to say hello. Grogu squeals and touches his claw lightly to your fingertip. 

“I see you’ve already met,” a deep voice says from above you, sounding very amused. You look up to find Din standing over both of you in the doorway. 

“Hi,” you say, smiling. Grogu chirps a greeting and you look back down at him. He’s stepped closer to you, still smiling, and reaches out to poke the box of cookies with his claws. “I see you’ve found dessert.”

Din laughs and reaches down to scoop up his son. “He loves those things. Of course that’s the first thing he sees.” He looks down at Grogu, who looks back at him and giggles.

You stand slowly, absolutely charmed by seeing Din with his son. “I’m glad I brought them.”

“Come in,” Din says, and steps back to invite you inside.

As you step into their home, you can’t help but look around. There’s a living area to your left with a low couch – you smile at the very fluffy green blanket thrown over the back. The kitchen area appears to be straight ahead, and then a short hallway to your right must lead to the sleeping quarters. You can see little personal touches everywhere, and your smile only grows as you notice them. Some drawings that must be Grogu’s tacked to the wall by the back door, some of his toys on the floor by the couch and on the windowsill. A large silver cabinet you presume must be full of Din’s things, probably weapons, as you can tell even from far away how well secured it is. There’s a rack by the door for shoes and you quickly toe yours off.

As you turn to look around again you realize Din is standing by the couch, where he placed Grogu, and looking at you. Your face turns hot as you realize you’ve been quiet for… you don’t know how long, gawking around his home.

“I’m sorry–” 

“Do you–”

You start to speak at the same time, and then both of you pause. 

“Sorry? Cyar’ika–”

“Sorry I was just gawking at all your stuff, Din–”

He cuts you off. “No, it’s fine. I want you to look.”

You step forward, not taking your eyes off of him. “It’s really nice, Din.” You smile and reach out to squeeze his hand. “It’s very you.”

“Me?” he asks, and starts looking around his own home. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you say, and gesture downwards, “I can tell you set this area up to be as accessible for Grogu as possible. He’s pretty short,” you tease, looking down at the child. He grins back at you and makes a little noise that sounds like blub. “See, he agrees! And of course you locked up all of your stuff in that intense looking cabinet over there, out of the way.” You look back at Din. He’s feeling self conscious, you can tell by his shoulders. “It’s just obvious how much you care.”

He ducks his head. “You can see all of that? Just looking around?”

It’s your turn to feel self conscious. You shrug. “Guess so. And, um…” you trail off, not sure if you should say it.

He steps towards you and reaches out to lightly grip your upper arm. “Well, don’t stop now. And what?” He’s clearly teasing you and it helps you relax.

“And…” you look up at his visor and he squeezes your arm lightly. “And I guess I’m used to reading in between the lines, with you.”

Din tilts his head to the side, considering. “Because of the helmet?” he asks, sounding a bit resigned.

You tilt your head from side to side. “Only sort of. It’s really because you hate talking about yourself.” You grin at him. “And you know it.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t… hate it. As much. Now.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?”

He laughs, and you lean towards him, smiling. “I’ve… had to do a lot of new things, since I found Grogu.”

“I bet,” you say, still smiling. 

Before either of you can say anything else, Grogu squeals, loudly. You both look down to find him tugging at Din’s pants with one hand and pointing towards the kitchen with the other. . 

“Seems like Grogu’s telling us it’s dinner time,” you say, charmed.

Din nods. “If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s this kid being ready for dinner.” He scoops him up again, and again you feel a little squeeze around your heart, watching Din with his son.

Get a grip. You squeeze your hands together as you follow them. Not for the first time, you wonder why Din had invited you to dinner, given that he can’t eat with you. You settle around the table and see that there are only two place settings, which doesn’t surprise you, but does make you feel a bit bad.

“Din, what about–”

He sets two steaming bowls down in front of you and Grogu. “I ate just before you got here.” He settles in across from you and seems to realize it might be weird just to stare at you while you eat, because he looks towards Grogu. “I hope it’s good. I’m still, ah, learning.”

“How to cook?” you ask, before starting to eat. It’s some kind of stew, and the smell alone is mouth watering.

“Yes, I–”

“Din,” you can’t help but interrupt. “This is good.” You look up at him and find him frozen, one hand reaching towards Grogu.

“It is?”

You nod, taking another bite. “Really good, Din. Thank you.”

He ducks his head again and you smile. “I’m glad. I’m trying to learn more for Grogu. Didn’t cook much before.”

“Makes sense.” You watch as he helps Grogu manage his spoon. “Did the Crest even have a kitchen?”

Din laughs. “No, nothing like that. Ate a lot of rations.” You make a noise, and he laughs again. “I know. This is better.”

After that, your conversation is easy. Grogu chimes in from time to time, and you marvel at how good he is at making himself understood. 

When you’re both done eating, Din produces the blue cookies he’d taken at the door, and Grogu squeals. “Yeah, buddy, you can have two, ok? We’ll save the rest.” He looks over at you. “If that’s alright.”

“Of course. They’re for you.”

As soon as Grogu swallows the second cookie, he starts to droop. It’s adorable.

“Looks like someone’s ready for bed,” Din says, reaching for him. You stand when he does. “Hey, no, let me put him down, I’ll be right back. Stay?”

You nod, glad you don’t have to leave quite yet. “I’ll be here.” 

Din turns the corner, and you turn towards the dishes. You smile as you start to clean up. It feels… domestic. Strange, because nothing with him before had ever felt this way. 

You like it.

You finish up and turn to look over the table and jump, hand flying to your chest. 

Din is leaning up against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed, looking completely at ease.

“Kark!” you say, breath coming fast. “Din! How do you do that?”

He laughs and moves towards you. “Bounty hunter, cyar’ika. You didn’t have to clean up.”

You smile and shrug. “You cooked, right? I clean.”

He shakes his head, but you can tell he’s amused. “I’m glad you came,” he says, stepping closer. He’s only a few inches away from you now, and you’re pinned against the counter. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You nod. “Alright.” 

He surprises you by leaning forward and gently resting his helmet against your forehead. “Come sit with me?”

“Of course.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the low couch. When you sit, he sits right next to you and keeps your hand held between his. “It’s… difficult. To talk about this.”

“Take your time,” you say, turning towards him a bit more on the couch. You tangle your fingers with his and squeeze. 

“Thank you,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, but you don’t push. You remember his silences and this one is comfortable, just like it was then, even though you know he’s going to tell you something important.

He sighs. “I said before, how I had responsibilities.” You nod. “I was raised by Mandalorians, in a covert. Here on Nevarro, after we left Mandalore. I’ll… tell you about that another time.” You squeeze his hand and he takes a breath. “We lived in secrecy, in hiding. And once I was old enough I was sent out to earn money. For the tribe. As a bounty hunter.”

A picture is starting to grow in your mind, as he speaks, filling in the gaps you always wondered about but never understood before. The details of his life that you had hoped to one day learn. You think about all of the jobs he’d done, when you knew him, and how he was always on a deadline, traveling home. Traveling here.

“We lived in the tunnels here,” he continues, “because our secrecy was our safety. I had… responsibilities. To the tribe. I couldn’t let anyone know about them. About us.” He squeezes your hand again. “I had to be so careful, cyar’ika. None of the other bounty hunters knew anything about me, even though the guild was here. And that… that was how we survived. The whole tribe, the adults, the children, all of them.”

You remember, suddenly, what you’d said to him that day. That the other bounty hunters had mentioned Nevarro. “Oh, Din. And I said–”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, cyar’ika. I overreacted. Because I…” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to be doing what I was doing, with you.”

“What, you weren’t allowed to have sex?” You can’t help the words that spill out of you. What?

“No, that wasn’t the problem. It was… well. The feelings. The connection. I knew it wasn’t allowed, that’s why I said–”

“Just sex,” you say, the memories of your first time together echoing in your mind. 

He nods. “Pretty good sex,” he says, echoing your words from long ago. His tone is wry, and you laugh. “But I was breaking the rules every time I came back, even if I never admitted it to myself. So when you said Nevarro, I panicked. I suddenly understood what I’d been doing and I ran.” He looks down at your hands. “We weren’t supposed to have… connections. Outside the tribe. And the moment I left, I knew I had broken that rule just about every way I could have. With you.”

Your heart feels like it’s swelling inside your chest. Connected. You had been connected, you weren’t imagining it then, and hearing him say it now… you feel pressure behind your eyes and try to blink it away. 

“Cyar’ika? Are you–” He reaches one hand towards you, brushing away a tear from under your eye with his thumb. 

You lean into his hand. “I’m fine, Din. It’s just… nice. To hear you say it.”

“Say what?” he sounds concerned, still. And you can’t help but smile, turning your face into his palm.

“That you felt it too.”

He scoots closer on the couch, somehow, one hand cupping your face and the other clutching your hand between you. “I told you. I wanted to go back. I went back, because I wanted you, cyar’ika.”

You close your eyes and breathe in shakily. “I know.” It feels like your heart is trying to burst from your chest. 

Din clears his throat. “There’s more. Just… when Grogu, when I went back for him. The other bounty hunters tried to stop me. And my tribe… they saved us.”

You furrow your brow. “Wait, you mean–”

He nods. “They came out of hiding, for us. And for a long time I thought… I thought they’d died. All of them.” His voice wavers, and you squeeze his hand. You bring your free hand up to hold his, to press it to your face. 

“Din–”

“Some died, but not all of them. They’re actually here on Nevarro again. They still live a bit apart, but they’re safe.”

“That’s great, Din!” you say, and you mean it, but… They’re here. Something about that isn’t sitting well with you. You’re worried, suddenly, and you know he must be able to see it when he leans closer.

“What’s wrong?”

You can’t help but smile. He can still read you. “Nothing, it’s just… they’re here. And you said, about the rules–”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not… It’s like I told you, it’s different now. It’s different for me and for them. It’s not like it was.”

You nod, taking that in. You have a feeling there’s more to it, but that’s enough to set you at ease. “Alright.”

Din’s thumb rubs gently across your cheek, and you realize you’re still tangled together. You tug on his hand lightly and pull it down to your lap. He sighs, sounding relieved. “Thank you for… for listening. I know you had no reason to–”

You shake your head. “You said it was different this time, Din, but more than that… so far you’ve shown me that’s true. I…” you trail off. “I mean, I already told you I still want...” You bite your lip. You suddenly feel like you’re out on a limb, all by yourself, even though he’s been pretty clear since you found him again.

But it doesn’t last long, because he nods. “I want you, cyar’ika.”

You feel your face start to heat up. “You said that, um. But what exactly do you want?”

Din gently disentangles his hands from yours and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumbs against your cheeks. “Not just sex. I do want sex,” he says, and you both laugh. “But I want everything with you. We can take our time and figure it out. But that’s what I want.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that takes over your face if you tried. The feeling welling up inside you is unfamiliar but so welcome. “I want that too, Din.” You laugh. “That’s not very slow of us, is it?” 

He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours again. “Slow is getting harder by the day, cyar’ika.”

You nudge his head with yours. “What’s this mean? And don’t try to avoid the question, Din, I can tell it means something.”

He sighs. “You know me too well. It’s… it’s how we kiss. With helmets.”

Your jaw drops. “Din Djarin, you kissed me two days ago!”

He laughs. “Couldn’t help it, I’m sorry.”

“You’re so bad at this,” you laugh, “and even worse at going slow.”

He leans back again and you just know he’s grinning at you, unrepentant. “I know.”

“I wish you’d told me, back then – I always wanted to kiss you so bad, you know, and there was a way we could have been kissing the whole time?”

He shakes his head. “That would have meant acknowledging feelings I was pretending not to have.” He lets his hands drop and travel slowly down your arms. You shiver. “I always wanted to kiss you, too.”

You lean forward. “Well, now we can.” You touch your forehead to the helmet and you feel him take a deep breath. 

“Cyar’ika…” he cups the back of your neck with his hand. It feels so good. “Thank you. For coming over.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

…

After that, you see him and Grogu almost every day. Slow, you tell yourself, over and over again, but it’s getting harder by the day. When he brings you lunch, when he introduces you to his friends, when he invites you to dinner, when his hand falls to the small of your back as you walk, when he kisses you goodbye every time, nudging his helmet against yours… you see, in everything he does, that it’s different now.

And you want it to be different so, so badly.

Two weeks after the first night you had dinner at his home, you’re in your own home alone. Your brand new home. Din introduced you to Greef Karga, who introduced you to Marta at the local cantina, who gave you a job, and who told you about this apartment… and here you are. 

You look around, smiling. It’s small, with a little kitchenette and a bed that hides away and transforms into a couch during the day, but it’s all yours. You haven’t had something that’s all yours like this since… since Takodana. The idea of staying is daunting, but it also feels right. You move towards the bags you’d dropped on your small table, ready to unpack your purchases from the market, when you’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

When you open it, you’re surprised to find Din on the other side. “Din? Aren’t we meeting for dinner?”

He nods. “We are. But I had to– can I come in?”

“Of course,” you say, moving aside so he can come inside. He walks towards your living area, stops, and turns and walks towards you again, and then he’s pacing. You frown, watching him move back and forth. “Din? Is everything–”

“Karga told me. You… the cantina?”

You grin. “Yes, I got a job, and look at this apartment, it’s so cute–” He turns again and stops right in front of you. He gathers your hands in his and you can feel that he’s shaking. “Din? Are you alright–”

“Cyar’ika,” he says, and squeezes your hands. “Karga told me that you found a job, that you found a place to stay, and I… I ran here. Does this mean, are you–” He paused. “Are you staying?”

You step forwards and lean into him until your forehead nudges against his helmet. “Yes, Din. I’m staying.”

He takes a deep breath. “And you… with me?” he asks, and you can hear how difficult it is for him to ask.

“Yes. With you.”

Something inside of him seems to release, and his shoulders relax. “Cyar’ika,” he breathes, and you smile. “Are we still going slow?”

You shake your head against his helmet without losing contact. “No more slow, Din. Just us.”

For a moment he’s silent. And then he leans back from you, releases your hands, and grasps the bottom of his helmet on both sides. 

The panic flashes through you, traveling like lightning from your chest down your spine. “Din? What–”

Without even pausing, he lifts it off his head. Or you assume he must, because your hands fly to cover your eyes even as you squeeze them shut. “Din! What are you doing?”

He laughs. And you can hear it, just him, no modulator. You gasp. 

“Are you laughing? Din, what–”

“I’m happy. Cyar’ika,” he says, and you feel his hands – his bare hands, no gloves – wrap gently around your wrists. “It’s ok. You can look.” His voice is so deep and so real.

Your whole body is tingling, you can’t understand the words he’s saying. “I can’t, no, Din, what do you mean I can look? Of course I can’t–”

“Shhh,” he shushes you softly, and you feel him step closer until you’re almost pressed together. “Listen to me. It’s ok. You can look. I want you to. I promise, it’s ok. I’ll explain everything.” You’re breathing fast, and you feel him let go of one of your wrists to wrap an arm around your back. “Please, cyar’ika. Trust me. Just look.”

You take a deep, slow breath. “Ok, Din. I trust you.” You let him tug your hand away from your eyes and you drop both of your arms, resting your hands on his chest. Your eyes are still closed, but he cups your face in his palm. You feel his thumb run gently under your eye. 

“Please,” he repeats, and you give in.

You open your eyes, slowly, and for a moment you don’t know where to look. Your eyes dart over his strong jaw, his nose, his brows, his mustache – you start to smile when you see it – until they come to rest on his eyes, warm and brown, and looking right at you.

“Din?” you whisper, and he smiles. You watch the way it changes his face and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Hi, cyar’ika,” he says, voice low, and you shiver. His arm tightens around your waist and you wrap your own around his chest.

“Din,” you say, voice full of wonder. “You’re beautiful.”

He ducks his head, and you marvel at the way you can see him blush. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, and you lean forward to press your forehead against his. 

“Din, why? Why now?”

He leans back from you and begins to tug you towards your couch. You follow easily and find yourself in his lap after he guides you down. You can’t take your eyes off of his face.

“I haven’t told you about this, yet,” he says, and tightens his arms around your waist. You reach up to trace his cheek with your fingertips and he leans into it like a cat. “But I’ve taken my helmet off before, for Grogu. And now…” he frowns, and you can’t help but trace the shape of it. It makes him laugh and press a soft kiss to your fingertips. “It doesn’t mean the same thing to me, not anymore. I’ll tell you all about it. But it’s ok. With you, it’s ok. Because you’re… we’re…”

“Are you sure? It hasn’t been that long, I–”

“I’m sure,” he says, interrupting your nervous words, voice firm. “I never thought I’d get another chance. And now, we’re—”

You smile as he speaks and lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He falls silent, blinking at you. “We’re figuring it out,” you say, “but I’m yours, Din. If you still want me.”

He grins. It’s beautiful. You’ll never get enough of just looking at him. “I’ll always want you, cyar’ika. I’m so glad I found you again.”

“Hmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I found you, Mr. Bounty Hunter.”

He laughs. He laughs, and you can see it happen. It’s wonderful. 

“You did,” he agrees. “And I’ve been yours since the moment I saw you, you know.”

“What, here on Nevarro?”

Din shakes his head. “No. On Takodana.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “When you carried that guy out of the cantina like a sack of polystarch?”

He smiles. “You have no idea how beautiful you are. And how fearless.”

You shake your head. “I’m plenty afraid, Din. I was afraid I’d never see you again. That we’d never figure this out.”

“And you tried anyway.” He cups your face with his hand again and you shiver at the feeling of his skin on yours. “Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “I’ve never done this before, but… can I kiss you?”

You feel heat crash over you and tingle down your spine at the idea of kissing this man. “Din, you can kiss me whenever you want.” You nudge your nose against his and feel his arms tighten around you.

Softly, so softly it steals your breath away, you feel his lips press against yours. 

It’s overwhelming, the feelings that rise up inside you. You used to dream of kissing this man, and then for so long you pretended you forgot those dreams, and now here he is, kissing you.

It’s better than anything you imagined before.

His lips are soft, but firm, and when you tease his bottom lip with your tongue he gasps. He catches on quick and teases you right back, teases you until you’re breathing fast and writhing in his lap.

You break away for air as he presses warm kisses across your jaw and down your neck. “How are you so good at this already?” you gasp, and he chuckles. 

“I haven’t kissed anyone before,” he says again, “but I’ve seen plenty of other people kiss.” He looks up at you suddenly and winces. “Um, I mean. I’ve just spent a lot of time sitting in cantinas over the years.”

You laugh and tug him into another kiss. “Sure,” you tease, and he groans. “Din,” you say, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers. “We’re not going slow anymore, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, and you can’t help but grin at the effect you’re having on him.

“Like having your hair played with?”

“I guess so,” he says, sounding surprised.

You press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got great hair, you know.”

He smiles, pleased. 

“Anyway,” you say, “we’re not going slow… so…”

He freezes and then whips his head up to meet your gaze. “So?”

You grin, knowing exactly how your words are going to affect him. “So take me to bed, Din Djarin. I seem to remember you were pretty good at sex, and that was without using your mouth.”

Din lets his head fall back as he laughs and you lean in to press soft kisses against his throat. He hums. “I can’t promise being good at it, but I’d love to put my mouth on you, cyar’ika.”

You shiver. 

He lifts his head back up, smirking at your reaction. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and then laugh when he pushes you up off his lap. He follows and guides you gently towards the bedroom. 

Grinning, you strip off your top as you move backwards, watching as Din’s eyes fall to your chest. “Karking hell, cyar’ika, you are so beautiful.” His hands move towards you and then away as he begins tugging at his armor. 

He must notice when your attention is caught, because he says, “I’ll teach you all about it later. Lie down.” HIs voice is deep and he nods towards the bed behind you.

You realize you can’t concentrate on his armor right now anyway, can’t take your eyes off his face as you strip off your leggings. When you’re bare in front of him you bite your lip and lean backwards on your forearms. “Like this?”

He’s almost done with his armor, and as he releases his chestplate he hums. “Spread your legs,” he commands softly, and you suck in a sharp breath. You let your knees fall apart and watch, mouth falling open, as he falls to his knees in between them. 

Din looks you in the eye for a long moment. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to taste you. Since the first time.” 

A wave of heat washes over your body as you remember that day, the first time he made you come. How he’d expertly brought you to the ledge so quickly, and how you’d thought you felt his helmet press against your pussy when you came.

You watch as he leans closer now. “I’m going to make you come on my tongue, cyar’ika,” he says, voice low. “And then I’m going to watch you come on my cock.” He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you feel his tongue dart out between his lips to tease at your skin.

“Din,” you breathe, and you can see the effect it still has on him, when you say his name. His eyes close for just a moment, and when he meets your gaze again, the look in his eyes makes you shiver.

Without any more hesitation, he leans forward and licks a wide stripe, tongue flattened against your pussy. You gasp and fall backwards, arms unable to hold you up. “Kark, Din, oh–”

You feel his hands glide along the inside of your thighs from your knees to your hips, and as he licks again, his thumbs come to rest against the lips of your pussy. He gently pulls them apart as he teases his tongue towards your entrance. You feel the tip of his tongue lightly circle there before he moves upwards, finding your clit easily and pressing against it softly. 

Suddenly you realize that your hands are tangled in his hair, though you can’t remember when you moved them. You lift your head and look down, tugging lightly, asking, “is this–”

He nods against you, flicking his gaze up to meet yours, and hums.

You fall back down, head thrown against the bed, as he circles your clit with his tongue. “Din, what, how are you so good at this–” you cut yourself off with another sharp breath as you feel his tongue move back towards your entrance. This time, you feel him tease inside and you resist the urge to lock your thighs around his head.

His finger joins his tongue and gently teases at your entrance before slipping inside. The feeling of him, inside you after so long, sends sparks down your spine. He pulls back slightly and murmurs, “I know what you like, cyar’ika. And I’ve dreamed of learning how you taste.”

Din leans back in as his finger curls inside of you, and from there, you’re lost to his tongue and his fingers and the warmth of his body between your thighs. He hasn’t forgotten anything, you quickly realize, and you can already feel it building inside of you. He fucks you with his fingers and teases you with his tongue, and you feel it coming like a wave rushing from your feet to the tips of your fingers. You rock your hips down against his face, unable to keep yourself from moving, and moan when he only presses closer. He tugs on your hip gently, and you realize he wants you to move. You look down at him again, just to check as you thrust your hips again, and find him looking at you. He nods and you clutch at his hair as you thrust forward again.

“Din, fuck, it’s so fucking good, Din–” you sigh as he twists his fingers inside of you and tense your thighs against his shoulders. His mouth is open against your pussy and you cry out when his teeth brush gently against your clit. “Din, I’m close,” you say, tugging on his hair, but he doesn’t move away, he moves closer, humming.

It’s coming, climbing up your spine, like sparks across metal. You’re warm, so warm, but shivering all over, thrusting your hips forward in time with his fingers. You hear the sounds you’re making but it feels like they’re coming from somewhere else. Your awareness is narrowed to the softness of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his mouth, everywhere.

On his next thrust he curls his fingers upwards again and presses his tongue flat against your clit, and it pushes you over the edge. You fall, head spinning, as the orgasm lifts you up and slams you against the shore of your bed. You float through it, gasping for air.

When you blink your eyes open after, you realize he’s pressing soft kisses all over your pussy as he slowly slips his fingers free. 

“Din,” you breathe, and tug his hair again. This time he follows, and you look down to meet his eye. He looks as wrecked as you feel, face red, mouth wide open and glistening, breathing hard. “What the fuck, Din.” 

He smirks. “Told you, cyar’ika. I’ve been dreaming of it.”

You laugh, suddenly overwhelmed with just how happy you feel. Din, your Mando, is smirking up at you from between your legs, where he’s just shown without a doubt that he remembers everything about you. You can see his face. You release his hair and bring your hands up to cover your own.

“Cyar’ika?” he asks, and you feel him move upwards, pressing soft kisses all over your torso. You feel his weight settle over you before he gently grasps your wrists and moves your hands. “Are you ok?”

He’s so close, his lovely face so concerned, and you can’t help but grin widely at him. “I’m great,” you tell him, wrapping your arm around his neck. “And I’ll be even better when you fuck me.”

Din laughs and you watch, entranced, as it plays across his face. He has laugh lines, you realize, around his mouth and near his eyes, and it feels like your heart stutters in your chest. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. “

You feel his cock hard against your thigh and twist your hips under his. He smiles against your lips. “‘S that what you want?” His voice is so deep it rumbles through you. “Tell me.”

Nodding, you tangle your fingers in his hair again. “Yes. Your cock, Din. Want it.” He teases across your bottom lip with his tongue, and then you’re kissing, soft and messy and like you never could have dreamed of before. He moves his body against yours until your legs are wrapped around his waist and his cock is pressed firmly against your pussy. 

“You feel so kriffing good, cyar’ika,” he breathes against your mouth. “Missed you so fucking much.” He thrusts, slow, and the head of his cock moves between your folds. 

You gasp when it brushes against your entrance. “Yes, Din,” you say, voice strained. “Please.”

He nods and pushes forwards with his hips. His tongue licks inside your mouth at the same time as his cock pushes inside of you and you lose yourself in it, in all the ways he’s touching you. You realize how different it is, without the helmet, but also how familiar it is as his cock fills you again.

“You take me so well,” Din says, pressing soft kisses along your jaw before nipping at your neck with his teeth. “You always have, fuck, you feel so good.” You can hear the tension in his voice as he slowly moves his hips, pulling out before slowly thrusting back in. 

You grip his shoulders and move him gently until his face is above yours again, until you can catch his eye. “Din,” you breathe, and let your eyes drink in the look on his face. He wants you, as much as you want him, and you can actually see it. “I want you to fuck me.”

He raises an eyebrow, and you grin. “Is that not what I’m doing?”

You slip your hands down, running along his sides until you can grip his hips. “I’ve missed your cock so much, Din Djarin. Now put your back into it.”

He laughs, and he looks so happy that it takes your breath away. “Whatever you say, mesh’la.” And then he puts his back into it.

You’ve never forgotten what your “pretty good sex” with Din was like, but you realize as he fucks into you again that the memories have faded. They must have, at least somewhat, because the feelings that run through you as he finds a rhythm take your breath away. His cock is thick and he tilts his hips just right, hitting all of the places inside of you that send sparks and shivers running down your spine. You let your head fall back as you thrust your hips up to meet his. When you moan, you almost startle yourself with how loud it is.

“You feel so good,” he says, and he’s breathing just as hard as you are. “You sound so good, fuck.”

You move your hands again, wrapping one around his back and tangling the other in his hair, tugging him back into place so you can kiss him. 

“Din,” you breathe, and he shivers. You nip at his lip and grin when he does the same in return. 

He must feel it, the way it’s building inside of you, the cliff you’re hurtling towards together, because he slips one of his hands between you to tease at your clit. He pulls away, breaking your kiss, and you whine.

“I want to watch,” he says, and you open your eyes to find him drinking you in with his gaze. “I need to see it, like this. Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?”

You nod, breathless, as he somehow picks up the pace with his hips. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

He smiles at you. “I can feel it,” he says, and his fingers begin circling your clit in time with his thrusts. “Come. Please, come for me.” You feel him drop to his elbow as his palm finds the back of your neck. He squeezes.

It takes you, then, on his next thrust, sends you hurtling forward as your hips meet his and his cock moves inside you just right. It lights you up from the inside and you gasp his name as he holds your gaze. 

“Din,” you say again, and squeeze his cock inside of you. “Please.” 

He squeezes your neck again as he thrusts forward once, twice, and on the third time, he comes.

You’ve never seen it happen before and you can’t tear your eyes away as it happens now, in front of you. His brow furrows and his mouth falls open and you watch as the wave of pleasure breaks over his face.

Din slumps over on top of you, and for a moment you both just breathe. You squeeze your legs around him and hug him to you where his face is buried in your neck. You take a slow, deep breath, before murmuring, “that was–”

“Pretty good?” he cuts you off, and you can hear the wry smile in his voice. You laugh, overwhelmed again at the happiness coursing through you.

“Pretty fucking good,” you agree, and you grin at the ceiling when he huffs a laugh against your shoulder. 

“I missed you so much, cyar’ika,” he says, and presses soft kisses along your neck. “Fuck, I missed you.” 

You run your fingers through his hair and across the broad expanse of his naked back, hoping to soothe him. “Me too, Din. So much.” You press a kiss to his temple. “But I found you.”

You feel him smile against your neck. “You did,” he agrees. 

“Stay?” you ask, hoping he can but knowing he might need to go home to Grogu. 

To your surprise, he nods. “He’s with Karga. I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” you muse, and run your fingers through his hair again. “I like the sound of that.”

…

Din wakes with the sun and feels her wrapped around him, right where she belongs. He smooths his hand along her side and tilts his head towards hers, lips brushing against her forehead. 

When he slowly blinks his eyes open, he can’t help but smile at what he sees, as the memories flash through his mind, as that feeling, the one that seems to fill his chest whenever he sees her, spreads through his chest.

Her bracelet – the newest one made of braided white leather, woven with green and black thread – is lying on the bedside table, right next to his gloves.

It feels right.

Din turns and burrows into her, hiding his smile in her neck, happier than he’s been in years.

...