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fanfreakinfiction · 6 months

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My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 1: Don’t Cry

Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

14K words // Din Djarin x Pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles to find certain words. The reader is pregnant!

Tags: SMUT virginity loss, con-non-con, made-up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, 18+ DNI.

Warnings: Child loss, Pregnancy, Birthing, Blood, Death?, explicit mention of child loss and grief, guys this is dark.

A/N: I got this idea as I was dying in the shower from period cramps & also from a bot I used to use on Janitor AI before it was privated (RIP Din Bot). For logistics, we will just pretend that the Razor Crest didn’t get absolutely obliterated. For timeline reference, this takes place after season 3. Im convinced Din & Grogu are gonna have fun son/dad bounty-hunting adventures as Din teaches Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. Slight flashback in the middle of how reader and Mando met. Grogu has been working on his force flips lmao. I imagine the reader having an accent kind of like Gal Gadot, idk just roll with it. Also, I am so sorry if you cry reading this, I know I did writing it.

His hands ghosted over the silky skin of her back as he watched himself disappear and reappear from her stretched cunt. Slick mixed with blood pooled at the base of his cock in a ring, and the sound of her whimpers reached his ears through the thick metal of his helmet. The feeling of her tightness was so inviting, so hypnotizing, he felt possessed. He didn’t even mean to finish inside of her, he’d have to pay extra for that.

From the incense heavy room he found himself standing at the edge of an enigmatic forest, encircled by black rock. An ethereal silence enveloped the scene, leaving him with an eerie sense of detachment.

His eyes shifted as he looked up on a pool of steaming water, obscured by the thick veil of steam, he saw her. The woman he’d been with on Tattooine so long ago. She struggled, her words lost in the hissing steam as her trembling hand gently grazed her belly. And there, in the midst of the dream's uncertainty, he witnessed the miracle of life itself—a whisper of cells coalescing into a fragile existence, pulsating with an otherworldly vitality.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The gentle whisper transformed into a nightmarish wail—a blood-curdling scream that tore through the tranquility of the woods. It was a scream of agony, of despair, and it emanated from her trembling lips. Her lips, soft and inviting, the same ones he'd yearned to kiss that night when he had ventured into the pleasure house.

The piercing screams grew louder, echoing through the dream, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with torment. As he watched her agony unfold, he was jolted awake, his head colliding with the unforgiving overhead storage. The sudden transition from the surreal to reality left him momentarily disoriented.

In the dimly lit living quarters of the Crest, Grogu, the young green child who had become an unexpected but cherished presence in his life, cried out from his sling, hanging above Din's bunk.

With a heavy sigh, the sound reverberating through the vocoder in his helmet, Din rose to his feet. The aging joints in his knees protested as he reached out to comfort the child, his gloved hands gently lifting Grogu from the nest of makeshift fabric.

"I know," Din murmured softly, his voice a quiet rumble as he cradled the child in his arms. "You saw it too, didn't you, kid?" Grogu, with his large, expressive eyes, gazed up at Din with a mournful look and reached out, tiny green fingers brushing against the Mandalorian's helmet.

After the tumultuous events that had reshaped his life, Din Djarin had never allowed your memory to occupy his thoughts. Amidst the whirlwind of reuniting with Grogu, aiding Boba Fett, and playing a pivotal role in the reclamation of Mandalore, you had become little more than a faint blip on his radar—a passing connection that had provided a brief interlude of solace in the midst of his relentless journey.

But now, as he cradled Grogu in his arms, looking into the innocent, sorrowful eyes of the young child, he couldn't deny the awakening of something deeper within him. It was a sensation that transcended the confines of his dreams, a connection he felt as profoundly as the vivid dreamscape that had woven itself into his consciousness.

The realization slowly dawned upon him: you were more than just a fleeting memory. You were an integral part of the enigmatic tapestry of his life, and the threads of fate had woven your presence into his destiny in a way he had never expected.

Breaking free from his reverie, Grogu's tiny green form squirmed wildly in Din's arms, his latent Force abilities propelling him away from the Mandalorian's grasp. With agile grace, he leaped and bounced his way through the ship's cramped quarters, a small but energetic whirlwind of curiosity. Din could barely react before Grogu vaulted into the cockpit.

Din's boots thudded on the ladder's metal rungs as he followed the young one up into the cockpit. A chorus of wild babbling reached his ears, punctuated by the frenzied pressing of buttons on the navicomputer.

"Don't touch that!" Din exclaimed, a hint of exasperation in his voice, his heart racing as Grogu's tiny hand hovered perilously close to the power reset button. He couldn't help but be wary of the mischief the child could unleash.

The young one looked up at Din with eager eyes, babbled something incomprehensible, and tentatively touched the screen. Din cocked his head, his tinted visor reflecting his curiosity. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the console and entered a code to initialize the navigation system. "Is this what you want?" Din asked, studying Grogu.

In response, Grogu emitted a single, distinct "Patu" sound, his tiny fingers now reaching for the code panel. Hesitating only momentarily, Din bent down, lifting the child to eye level with the buttons. Grogu began to press a sequence of buttons, his small, green hands navigating the controls with surprising precision. Din's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts racing.

"You know where she is?" his voice came out raspy. Grogu completed the sequence, and his innocent gaze met Din's as the navicomputer diligently calculated the numerical sequence. After a few moments, a series of beeps indicated the successful completion of the calculations. Din turned to read the result, the Aurebesh characters on the screen spelling out "Kith."

"It's in the Baxel Sector of the Outer Rim," Din murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty, as he looked down at the child now resting contentedly in his lap. Grogu gazed up at him, then shifted his gaze to the navicomputer.

With a reluctant sigh, Din pressed a sequence of buttons to engage the hyperdrive. Whether he liked it or not, the path ahead was clear. He had to check on you. As the ship surged into hyperspace, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that this journey was far from ordinary.

—

The path up to the Mountain of Mothers was a grueling journey, especially with your feet swollen and aching. It wasn't just a hike; it was a trial, a test of endurance to prove the worthiness of those seeking parenthood. The heavy pack you carried pressed on your lower back, making each step a test of your will. Normally, the pack was shared by the "Irrit" or father, but "Illa-ishi" or lonely mothers like you were compelled to carry it alone. The remnants of those who hadn't made it to the Mountain of Mothers were marked by the skeletons you passed on the way up.

The lower pool of the mountain lay two days away, and the upper pool required an additional five days of journey. Yet, something in your heart told you that this child would be with you in two days. As you followed the ascending trail, you crossed paths with an "Illa" or mother, accompanied by her Irrit. He bore their pack with pride, walking just behind her. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a testament to the culture you held dear.

"Noona" or baby was the foundation of your beliefs, the embodiment of the life you and your "Manna" or partner created together. Reaching the Mountain of Mothers and returning with a child was the highest honor, a symbol of worthiness.

The Illa halted on her descent and, with an air of pride, revealed her noona, wrapped in the family cloth. "Noona asa illa-ini!" (it’s a girl) she declared with joy, unveiling a beautiful baby girl. You couldn't help but smile down at the tiny noona and the Illa who showed her off with such pride.

“Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit,” (baby is worthy of her mother and father) you responded with the customary blessing, bowing your head in reverence. The mother and father returned the bow, acknowledging the blessing. However, the mother's eyes soon drifted to your belly and the heavy pack that weighed you down.

“Asa Illa-ishi?” she asked softly, her face clouding with sadness. (Are you a lonely mother?)

Summoning all your strength, you fought back the tears that threatened to well up. With your head held high and a tender hand resting on your belly, you spoke resolutely, "A illa-ishi."

I am a lonely mother.

—

The journey through hyperspace had indeed stretched far longer than Din had anticipated. A full day had elapsed since that haunting dream, leaving him with the unsettling sensation of being trapped in some unseen, cosmic rotation of time. However, that ceaseless ticking eventually brought them to the end of their journey as the ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a smaller, mysterious planet, its surface adorned with sprawling waters and lush forests. As he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian noticed a stark absence of the usual signs of civilization—no traffic control, no spaceports, not even a refueling station. The setting felt eerily reminiscent of the world of Sorgan.

Din hovered uncertainly in the atmosphere, his mind racing. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, played with the mythasaur skull around his neck, seemingly unfazed by the situation. As Din stared at the green child, he let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Now what…?" Din muttered to himself, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the details of the dream, seeking any hint or clue that could guide their search.

In his mind's eye, he saw you, your form shrouded in mist and glistening with sweat. The dress you wore clung to your figure, the fabric a soft white-grey that accentuated your curves as you breathed heavily. His brow furrowed in concentration. There was water, almost like a waterfall, surrounding you, with black jagged rocks supporting your form. Your feet were immersed in milky water, reminiscent of a hot spring.

Din's eyes snapped open. A hot spring. It wasn't much to go on, especially for a planet that could potentially be dotted with such natural wonders, but it was a lead worth pursuing. His hands sprung into action, deftly pressing a sequence of buttons that initiated a signal, a ping to any electronic communication device on the planet's surface.

Grogu's focus shifted from the mythasaur skull to the Mandalorian, the child's curious gaze following Din's swift movements. Din soon located the nearest signal on the planet's surface, and as he brought the Razor Crest lower, he was struck by the intensity of the landscape. Towering thick trees covered nearly every inch of land, a vast, unspoiled wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The planet's terrain was marked by colossal mountains that sliced through the canopy of green like serpents in water, their peaks jutting out in sporadic bursts.

It was a breathtaking and untamed landscape, like nothing Din had ever witnessed. His gaze scanned the vast expanse below, tracking the signal as he searched for a suitable place to land the Crest. Finally, he spotted it—an elevated landing pad erected above the treetops. It seemed to be a small station, but it was a potential refuge for refueling and gathering information, a step closer to finding you

"K1 to RC 4577, you are clear to land at dock 7," a thickly accented voice echoed through the Razor Crest's comms system, providing the coordinates for their landing.

"RC 4577 to K1, recieved," Din responded, his gaze shifting to meet Grogu's eyes. The Mandalorian leaned over to offer a piece of advice to the child, "Always be kind when you land; most landing bay employees often know the most information." Grogu looked at Din, his large eyes brimming with understanding, and he babbled something that Din accepted as an acknowledgment.

With precision, Din guided the Razor Crest toward its designated dock and gently brought the ship to the surface. As he withdrew his hand from the control lever, he noticed a subtle tremor in his own fingers. It had been a long time since he had felt such a physical manifestation of emotion, not since he had lost Grogu to Moff Gideon.

In response to the tremor, Grogu cooed softly and reached out for his protector. Din's gaze locked onto the child, his trembling hands cautiously reaching out to embrace him. Grogu instinctively placed his tiny hands on either side of Din's helmet, offering comfort and connection. A sense of relief washed over the Mandalorian, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The small hands on his helmet made a soft "plink" sound that resonated through his interior comms.

"Thanks, kid," Din murmured, his voice laden with gratitude, but his words unable to fully convey the depth of his feelings.

Exiting the ship, Din carried Grogu in his sling, the child's presence providing a grounding force amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. A young mechanic in worn-overalls approached, his basic broken but comprehensible. "Need refuel?" he asked, to which Din nodded in acknowledgment. The mechanic, unfazed by the Mandalorian's helmet, started toward the fuel hose.

"Hot springs?" Din inquired, his voice barely audible above the wind that whipped violently across the landing pad. The mechanic turned, his eyes reflecting confusion, but Din simply nodded and reached for his credits, preparing to tip the young man for his services. Glancing around the landing pad, he spotted a few other ships—a transport vessel and two cargo ships.

The pad itself had clearly seen better days, and the gusts of wind whipped violently across its aged metal surface, causing a tumultuous symphony of sound. At the front of the landing pad stood a small rectangular building, featuring one set of large bay doors. It seemed to be the station's main structure. Adjusting Grogu in his sling, Din began to make his way toward it, his steps determined.

The small building served as a cover for various ships, a mix of those dusted and covered with the weight of time, and others gleaming with newness. Inside, a modest diner and café shop hummed with activity, a few patrons engaged in quiet conversations. At the front, an older man sat at a makeshift desk, engrossed in the workings of a peculiar-looking computer. As Din approached, the man stood abruptly, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Hello, traveler! Welcome to Kith!" he greeted with a giant smile. "I am Don Mai, the residing Mayor. We are humbled by the presence of a great warrior such as yourself!" With a reverence that bordered on adoration, the old man bowed deeply.

Din suppressed the urge to laugh, already forming an opinion of the enthusiastic mayor that he made a mental note to tell Bo Katan about later. Before Din could utter a word, Don Mai thrust a paper pamphlet into his hands, his speech transitioning into a rehearsed spiel about Kith's culture and history.

"Kith has a rich culture and even more intense history! Women from all over the galaxy come to experience the Mountain of Mothers and—"

“The Mountain of Mothers?" Din interjected, his tone cutting through the mayor's ramblings.

Don Mai's eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, the Mountain of Mothers has been around since the dawn of life on our humble planet, and its springs offer—"

"Hot springs?" Din interrupted again, his focus unwavering.

"Uh, well, yes, you see, the springs offer—" Don Mai began once more, but Din's impatience grew apparent.

"Where?" Din's voice was firm, demanding answers without the unnecessary embellishments.

Don Mai huffed, "The Mountain of Mothers is the largest mountain range on Kith. You should've seen it from your ship. If you take the elevator down to the planet’s surface, there is a speeder rental that can take you to the base of the range," the old man explained, his tone slightly deflated by Din's lack of interest in his detailed lecture.

Din places the paper pamphlet in a storage pocket on his bandolier as Grogu watches closely.

“And the elevator?” Din asks not looking away from the old man.

"To the left of the fuel pump on the landing pad. Just remember to pay your respects to the Gods as you visit the—"

The old man's voice dwindled into the background as Din walked away from the building and back onto the landing pad. He made his way to the fuel pump and, as instructed, looked to the left to find a rickety-looking elevator, seemingly manually operated. The metal showed signs of rust in various spots, and the wire pulley appeared to be in need of greasing. The flooring of the elevator was a grate that revealed the ground thousands of feet below. Grogu emitted a series of frightened squeaks and coos as Din hesitantly stepped onto the grating.

"I know, kid… let's just... get down there," Din muttered through gritted teeth, steeling himself for the precarious descent.

Din's hand gripped the elevator crank tightly, his patience stretched thin as he began the painstakingly slow descent. Halfway through, he had to switch arms, the anger at the archaic contraption bubbling beneath his calm exterior. It was unusual for him to get frustrated with inanimate objects, but this elevator was testing his resolve. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the bottom of the landing pad. With a forceful yank, Din opened the rusted gate, stepping onto soil that felt surprisingly soft underfoot, reminiscent of the sands on Tatooine, albeit less yielding.

The area below was like a forgotten tourist hub, the shops standing silent and forlorn, each manned by a lone shopkeeper who stared into the emptiness, boredom etched across their faces. It was a desolate sight, a place trying to be lively without the visitors to make it so.

Walking further, Din noticed a row of rusted speeder bikes, the rentals. His heavy boots left imprints on the sponge-like earth as he approached. A few of the shopkeepers stirred from their boredom at the sight of the silver-clad Mandalorian passing by.

Reaching the speeder rental, Din was met by an old Aqualish man, the grey of the hair surrounding his face telling tales of years of service.

"How much?" Din asked, his voice reflecting his growing impatience.

"Fifty credits," the Aqualish garbled back.

"Thirty-five," Din countered, his tone firm as he shifted his weight to one side. Grogu cooed softly from his sling, his wide eyes observing the bartering process.

The Aqualish nodded in agreement and walked away to retrieve the speeder keys.

As Din adjusted Grogu in the sling to access his credits, he caught sight of a couple approaching from the earthen road. The man carried a hefty pack on his back, and the woman cradled a baby in her arms. The pride in the man's eyes was evident as he helped his wife walk toward the shops.

"Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit!" the shopkeeper, an elderly woman across the street, shouted at them. The couple bowed softly in acknowledgment as they continued walking. Every shop they passed echoed the same foreign phrase, and Din watched with curiosity. Upon reaching the elevator, the man removed his pack, fashioning a makeshift seat for his wife as he started cranking the elevator back up to the top of the landing pad.

The sound of a throat clearing broke Din's concentration. The Aqualish man stood, hand outstretched, waiting expectantly for the payment. Din sighed inwardly, realizing he had been lost in his thoughts. He paid the credits and received the keys to the rusted speeder. Adjusting Grogu in the sling, ensuring the child was safely nestled in his lap, Din ignited the speeder and set off down the only trail leading out of the market.

The only path to the Mountain of Mothers.

—

The pain in your swollen belly intensified as you stood at the base of the last incline leading to the lower pool. The journey had taken a heavy toll on your body, leaving you exhausted and in constant discomfort. Your feet were swollen, your hips ached, and everything hurt, but the cramping in your abdomen was what worried you most. The night before, you had barely managed to rest, opting to lie on the soft ground without bothering with your bedroll. Restlessness had plagued you throughout the night, and now the cramping made it clear that your time was approaching.

Today would be your last day on this arduous journey. The lower pool was just above you, but the pain in your body seemed unbearable. You knew it was all part of the gods' plan for you, but you never expected the pain to be this intense.

As you struggled up the final incline, a sharp pain ripped through you, and you stumbled. Your pack felt impossibly heavy, and your breaths came short. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as a wall of rock loomed ahead of you.

"Itta non a dashi," (I will not die here) you whispered defiantly, mustering the strength from the deepest part of your being. As your emotions surged, you felt the baby shift within you. With renewed determination, you regained your balance, placing a loving hand on your swollen belly.

The next incline lay ahead, one of the most challenging parts of the journey. You could see evidence of past mothers who had slipped or stopped, their bones scattered in the crevices of the rock. For Illa-ishi, like yourself, the task was solitary, without the help of an Irrit to assist with the ascent.

You stood at the base of the rocky cliff, gazing up at the tantalizing promise of the lower pool. The rhythmic thunder of the waterfall beyond the peak urged you forward, swirls of steam rose into the air, a tantalizing promise of the lower pool just a short climb away.

Thankfully, the rugged rock face bore shelves that made the treacherous climb more bearable. Growing up you heard tales of a time a century past when an Irrit, a kind-hearted soul whose manna, a young woman, could not walk. In a display of unwavering determination and love, he took chisel and hammer in hand, carving these sturdy, stone steps into existence. With these ledges, he could secure her safely to his back and ascend the daunting precipice so she could birth their child.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you surveyed the ascent before you. The harsh sun beat down, casting long shadows across the rocky surface. Determination burned in your eyes as you figured out the best plan of action. With a surge of resolve, you slipped the heavy pack from your sweat-covered body, feeling an immediate relief as the oppressive weight fell off you and onto the gritty dirt below.

With your pack discarded, you dragged it to the base of the wall where the first of the man-made shelves jutted out, a mere foot of space cut into the unforgiving rock face. Despite the fatigue gnawing at your muscles, you carefully planted your foot on the ledge, finding just enough space to stand. Bending down carefully you pulled the pack onto the ledge beside your feet. Your birthing gown, gauzy and light, provided a surprising ease of movement. Once you’d made sure the pack was secure you looked up and examined the next shelf. It was a little high of a stretch but you gripped the wall above to steady yourself, your gown billowing slightly with the effort.

Your hips protested with each movement, but the primal instinct to survive drowned out the pain. With staggering determination, you raised your leg, using the hold of the wall to leverage yourself onto the rock shelf to the left. Your arms, weary but unyielding, lifted your body until you were safely on the shelf.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you glanced back down at the last shelf, now below you. Gathering remnants of your strength, you reached down, hands trembling slightly, and lifted your pack with both arms onto the shelf beside you. Only one more shelf remained, higher up and to your right, a final obstacle before hauling yourself onto the top of the cliff.

After a short rest, you locked eyes with the next shelf, determination burning in your gaze. With a swift motion, you reached up for a gap in the wall to get a grip. Sliding your right hand into the sharp crevice, you pulled with all your might, grunting with effort as you lifted your right leg onto the shelf, which was higher than the last. But in that moment of triumph, a sudden jolt of pain radiated from your lower back all the way to your fingertips, and you lost your hold, a gasp ripping through you.

Stumbling backward, you were saved only by your pack, which you used for leverage to steady yourself. The contraction was fierce, so intense that it was only when you absentmindedly touched the dress covering your belly that you realized you'd sliced your palm on the unforgiving rock. Scarlet red stained your gown, creating an almost perfect handprint. Oddly, you felt no pain in your hand, your senses consumed by the tightening in your abdomen, which worsened with every passing moment.

“Issa non a tishi noona..” (its not time yet baby) you groaned out in pain, your voice strained and breathless. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to endure the relentless waves of agony.

You stood trembling on the shelf of the wall for a good minute or two before the contraction finally subsided, leaving you panting and exhausted. It was then that the sharp sting in your hand dominated your senses. You examined your hand, the crevice in the wall had sliced deep, and you could see the gash, making your stomach turn uneasily.

Reaching into your pack, you found the medipack, fingers trembling as you carefully opened it to retrieve the gauze and a bacta spray. With great care, you held your injured hand out in front of you and applied the bacta spray to the gash, wincing at the initial sting. Then, you gently wrapped the gauze around the wound, ensuring it was secure. The sharp pain began to dull as your trembling hand capped the spray, carefully returning it to the medipack.

With a sigh, you straightened up, taking a moment to regain your composure. The pain in your hand was no longer the foremost concern, and you couldn't let it distract you from the task at hand. You knew that each moment counted in this climb, and you needed to find the safest route to reach the next shelf.

Reassessing the situation, you examined the uneven rock wall before you, trying to identify the most secure handholds and footholds.

An idea crossed your mind and it could be great, or the worst idea ever and you could fall to your death but you were determined. You carefully maneuver around your pack and push it closer to the end of the shelf. You carefully placed a leg on the pack and then another, standing precariously on your pack which provided you almost a foot of extra height, you used the wall to steady yourself. You prayed to the Gods and reached with your right hand for the crevice that had so rudely marred your hand. Finding more traction with the gauze you confidently pulled yourself extending your right leg so your foot found purchase on the shelf. A victorious smile crossed your face as you then pushed off your pack with your left leg and hoisted yourself onto the shelf. A quiet laugh left your lips as you clung to the wall you were now facing.

Looking to your left, you bent down carefully to grab your pack. This shelf was a lot shorter, jutting from the wall maybe only eight inches. You had to precariously grab your heavy pack with one hand and quickly cram it under your left leg to prevent it from plummeting to the ground below.

You were so close now that you could feel the cool mist from the water above, and the deafening roar of the falls filled your ears. Perched roughly 15 feet above the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You dared not look down, fearing that it would disrupt your balance. Instead, you pressed your belly tightly against the rock wall in front of you, your heart pounding with both exertion and anticipation.

After a brief moment of rest, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. This was it, the final leg of your treacherous journey. You had one more pull, one last push, and you would reach the lower pool, your goal within your grasp. But you also knew that a single mistake could lead to a disastrous fall, a fate you couldn't afford.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arms above your head, your palms resting on the ridge above. With utmost care and precision, you hoisted yourself up, quickly placing both feet on your pack. The pack provided just enough height to get your elbows onto the smooth rock above. You pulled with every ounce of strength you had, feeling your belly scrape against the unyielding stone as you lifted.

Luck was on your side, as your feet managed to find a foothold through the worn leather of your boot. This newfound leverage allowed you to push yourself up, resembling a sea lion clambering onto a rocky outcrop. With sheer determination and the last vestiges of your strength, you quickly pulled your right leg under you and pushed yourself onto all fours on the smooth rock face. Your heart raced, your hands and knees trembling from the exertion, but you had made it. You had reached the final stretch of your perilous ascent, and the pool ahead awaited, a shimmering reward for your indomitable spirit.

A sob escaped your lips, a surge of emotion you hadn't anticipated as the reality of your accomplishment finally caught up with you. You had done it. You had managed to make it to the lower pool, and the inviting, milky-warm waters beckoned to soothe your weary body. Steam swirled around you, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you lay there, taking in the moment.

Rolling onto your back to face the sky, you watched as a giant silver ship soared high above the mountain. Your eyes followed it for a brief moment before it disappeared into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Tears welled up and trickled down your cheeks, their salty warmth mixing with the refreshing mist from the pool. You felt the gentle movements of the babe inside you and couldn't help but smile through your tears.

"Noona...we made it," you whispered in basic, your hand tenderly caressing your belly. The connection between you and the life within you was stronger than ever, a bond forged through this incredible journey.

After some time, you stirred, realizing that you needed to retrieve your pack. With some effort, the pack proved easier to handle than your own weight combined with the growing life inside you. You unzipped the pack and reached for your bedroll when another sensation, different from the earlier contractions, radiated through your core. This time, it felt like pressure, a clear sign that the moment you had been anticipating was drawing near.

After finding the bedroll, you took a moment to survey the area for a suitable spot to lay it down. The relatively flat rock surface encircling the spring was a dark black, a stark contrast to the frothy blue of the hot spring's waters. The ancient, tranquil pool was surrounded by old, tattered bedrolls, some empty, while others still held the silent remains of Illa-ishi who hadn't been as fortunate as you.

You sighed softly, the weight of the past and the solemnity of the place pressing down on you. You knew what lay beneath the surface of this hot spring – the resting places of those who had undertaken the same treacherous journey but hadn't emerged victorious. Out of respect for their memory, the people of Kith never dared to touch the remains. Instead, they left the bones where they lay, allowing them to become one with the planet's core, a final return to the world from which they had come.

Gently, you found a clear space amidst the bedrolls and laid down your own bedroll. It felt strange to rest among the remnants of those who had gone before you, but you also understood the significance of this place.

It was believed among your people that the Mountain of Mothers was the handiwork of the divine God of Kith, a deity whose love for his wife, Illa-ishi, was as vast as the universe itself.

Illa-ishi’s womb had cradled life for what seemed like an eternity and her body bore the weight of years, while her heart bore the burden of unbearable pain. Witnessing his beloved wife suffer, Kith, with his divine hands, crafted a pool at the mountain's base. Its waters held the promise of relief, a balm for Illa-ishi's agony.

While Kith labored tirelessly to raise the Mountain of Mothers, Illa-ishi, driven by a desperation born of unending torment, embarked on a solitary climb up its slopes. With each step, she ascended toward the heavens, seeking solace that seemed perpetually out of reach.

At the pinnacle of her journey, amidst the tranquil waters of the divine pool, Illa-ishi's child was born. Yet, there was no cry of life, no breath to fill the air. In a heart-wrenching moment, the lonely mother, overcome by despair, embraced the waters that had promised relief. She allowed herself to be consumed, seeking peace in the depths of the pool.

Kith, returning to find his wife and child lost to the pool’s embrace, was consumed by an anguish that eclipsed the stars. In his sorrow, he performed a deed both divine and sacrificial. In a resolute act, he harnessed the remnants of their life force, infusing it with the very essence of his divine being, and breathed life into the creation of the upper pool atop the Mountain of Mothers.

This upper pool, borne from his profound sacrifice, was destined to be a reward for those who completed the arduous journey together. It was a testament to the strength of unity, the enduring love that bound families and lovers, and the rewards that awaited those who surmounted the trials of life.

Yet, even in the splendor of his divine creation, Kith's sadness consumed him. He recognized the fundamental truth that Illa could not always survive, and that Noona may not always breathe. And so, the first pool, at the mountain's base, remained untouched, preserved as a sanctuary of rest and respect. A place where Illa-ishi, and Illa could find solace amidst the beauty of the Mountain of Mothers, where the waters whispered stories of love and sacrifice, and where their weary spirits could find respite beneath the endless expanse of the starlit sky.

In history there was only one illa-ishi who succeeded in birthing a breathing babe at the first pool, and she had birthed an evil so strong it was said to last generations.

You knew your heart, and you knew your babe. You had come here to rest.

—

The hike was hard. Din was breathing heavily under the weight of his armor and the burden of Grogu, who looked around the desolate landscape with a sad curiosity. How many skeletons had they passed? What kind of place was this? Why were you here? The guilt gnawed at him with each step he took. Why had he even gone to seek out pleasure from solitude in the first place? He thought back to that night…

The night was dark and heavy as Din sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the cantina in Mos Eisley, his thoughts consumed by a yearning for Grogu. The scorching sands of Tatooine outside were a harsh reminder of the precious time he had spent here with the child and Peli Motto. They had been moments of sanctuary, where the galaxy's chaos seemed miles away.

Nearly a year had passed since he'd entrusted Grogu to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a decision made with the best intentions. But that choice had left a void within him that he could hardly bear. Sleepless nights had become his constant companion, and the craving for both rest and peace had grown unbearable. And yet, he found himself agreeing to help Boba Fett in the midst of a brutal war, a commitment that seemed at odds with his desire for tranquility.

But in that cantina, he made a solemn decision. He had to seek out Grogu one last time, he had to give Grogu the chain mail that he had made for him. Just, as a way to protect him nothing more… He ran his fingers over its cool surface, a gesture that silently conveyed his unbreakable resolve before he pocketed the beskar.

As the night deepened and the alcohol flowed, he realized he had indulged in more Corellian Whiskey than he should have, knowing he needed a clear head for the journey that awaited him. But the whiskey's burn was a welcomed distraction, a temporary escape from the overwhelming pain of missing Grogu.

In the midst of his solitude, the cantina's atmosphere began to change. A group of scantily dressed women, draped in silks and adorned with gold, entered the establishment. They moved with grace and charisma, engaging patrons in conversation, flirting, and distributing holochips for a nearby pleasure house. Din snorted at the thought. When was the last time he even had time to fuck anything but his palm?

When was the last? He wondered trying to think back over the years since he’d acquired the responsibility of caring for Grogu.

Years. Actual, years.

In his inebriated state, Din found himself clutching the holochip, his steps unsteady as he navigated the narrow streets of Mos Eisley towards the establishment advertised on the chip. He had given in to a reckless impulse, fueled by a desire to escape the pain of missing Grogu, and a fleeting sense of excitement at the prospect of companionship, even if it was just for one night. The weight of the impending war, as Boba Fett had described it, loomed in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might be his last moment of solace.

Entering the dimly lit and shady establishment, he was met by a greasy, overweight man berating a young child. The sight of the child sent a wave of unease through him, casting a shadow over his already troubled conscience. What kind of place was this, where children were exposed to such depravity?

"Not for sale!" the greasy man barked at Din, as if reading some unsavory intent in the Mandalorian's eyes, he shielded the child, pushing her back behind a tattered curtain.

“I wasn’t…” Din’s words faltered, the very thought of such exploitation sickening him to his core.

But the foreman, undeterred, eyed Din up and down, his gaze lingering on the gleaming beskar armor. “You’ve got money, I’ve got girls,” the man said, his voice oozing with a repugnant confidence.

Din struggled to find the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, still reeling from the shock of seeing a child in such a place. He stumbled, his voice faltering.

The foreman, undeterred, went on, "I have a girl who just became available. She's not been with anyone, you'd be lucky to find a deal like her on this side of Tatooine." He reached into a box of hologram pucks, selected one, and placed it on the desk. Activating the hologram, he presented it to Din.

Din's gaze fixated on the static image, his eyes locked on the visage.. Strangely, he felt a deep pull within him, as if your image was both familiar and enigmatic, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

"How much?" Din's voice, though filtered through his modulator, held a heaviness, a mix of curiosity and longing.

"Four thousand credits," the foreman stated, avarice evident in his words.

“Four?” Din repeated, incredulous, his disbelief met with a dismissive glance from the foreman. “How much does she get?” he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The foreman's look turned defensive, his response sharp, "Two thousand. My girls are lucky to get any at all."

Din's resolve hardened, and he leaned in, his voice taking on a threatening edge that he usually reserved for bounties. "I'll pay six thousand, and she gets four thousand."

The foreman's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard, but a vile smirk soon crept across his face. "Deal. Right this way, sir," he beamed, all too eager to make the transaction.

The foreman led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways filled with disturbing moans and an overpowering, artificial perfume that hung heavily in the air. The cacophony of voices from behind the closed doors was a haunting reminder of the grim reality of this place, and the perfumed scent was a failed attempt at masking the despair that lurked within.

At the end of the corridor, the foreman unlocked a door and gestured for Din to enter. "I'll send her in," he grunted, closing the door behind Din.

Din stumbled into the room, the alcohol coursing through his veins, muddling his thoughts. He took in his surroundings, finding himself in a chamber that seemed a stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. A makeshift bed of luxurious pillows lay on the floor, richly woven tapestries hung from the ceiling, creating a semblance of privacy. Incense burned intensely, casting a hazy atmosphere, a chair rested by the door infront of a towering golden-framed mirror that rest to the right.

This must be a more expensive room, he thought, his mind reeling with the absurdity of it all. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he was truly doing here, and if this was the way he wanted to fill the void left by Grogu.

As the room's fakely lavish atmosphere weighed upon him, the door behind him swung open gently. He turned, his movements slow and heavy from his armor, to see you enter. Your form was meek, draped in a light blue silk garment that covered more of your body than the women he had seen in the cantina. Gold metal accents adorned your wrists, ankles, and neck, casting a subtle glow in the dim room.

Din's breath hitched as he observed you, his gaze tracing your figure from your feet to your face. Your flushed face and the nervous way you looked down at the floor beside him made it clear that you were unfamiliar with this line of work. He saw you absentmindedly running your index and middle finger along the material of your flowing skirt.

He couldn't explain it, but something about your vulnerability, the innocence you still carried despite the circumstances, touched him. For a moment, he entertained the thought that the foreman had lied about your experience, but as he watched you in silence, he knew that the greasy man's words were painfully accurate.

Din shifted slightly, causing your gaze to snap to him quickly. His visor concealed his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. He observed for another moment, considering his next move. Slowly, he began to remove his gloves. The process was deliberate, one finger at a time on the right hand of his glove, until he was able to pull it off, revealing his bare hand. His eyes never left yours as he started to work the other glove off, the tension in the room growing palpable.

Your gaze drifted from his visor to his hands, watching intently as the gloves came off. As soon as he removed the gloves, he walked to the chair by the door and set them down gently. Your gaze followed him as he approached, your hand never leaving the doorknob the entire time. It was as if you were waiting for him to make a move, to confirm the fear that had taken root in your heart.

Din stopped a few feet away from you, his gauntleted hand hanging by his side. There was something in his stance, a subtle softening in his normally rigid posture that made you feel he might not be the threat you initially perceived.

He straightened as he turned to face you, extending his tanned and calloused right hand as a peace offering. It hung there in the space between you, a bridge across the vast divide that had separated your worlds. The look you gave him that night pierced through his then-buzzed haze, and as your gaze moved from his visor to the palm of his outstretched hand, you ever so softly smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, with a slight tremble, as you placed it in his. Maker, it was so soft, so... loving. In a way, it reminded Din of his mother's hands. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face when she would kiss him on the top of his head or brush his hair back. It was a memory buried deep, one he rarely let resurface in the harsh reality of his life.

He watched you, unknowingly holding his breath, as your eyes flitted from his hands back up to his visor.

That night was almost eight months ago, and in the span of those months, the galaxy had shifted beneath Din Djarin's feet. He had fought with Boba Fett, gotten Grogu back, found his covert and embarked on the perilous journey to reclaim Mandalore and his Mandalorian status. The weight of leadership, the responsibilities, and the relentless pursuit of his beliefs had clouded his thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

As he walked through the dense forest, the guilt that had been gnawing at him grew ever more oppressive. He'd been so preoccupied with his own mission, his people's future, and the legacy of Mandalore that he hadn't even spared a thought in your direction. He had foolishly assumed that the foreman would handle any potential consequences of their night together, perhaps naively believing that you would choose to remain silent. However, what if you hadn't told the foreman? What if you carried something precious from that night, a part of him he was yet to know about? He had neither your name nor any means of contact, and that realization weighed him down like a camtono of beskar.

With every step, the burden of his guilt pressed down upon him, and he mentally berated himself for not knowing your name or sharing his. He deserved this guilt, for in his quest to rebuild his world, he had unintentionally left a piece of himself behind. If you were pregnant, how were you supposed to find him in the vastness of the galaxy? He couldn't shake the thought that he might be a father, and yet he had no way to reach out to you.

Lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings, Din hadn't even realized that he'd strayed from the trail until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's silence, shattering the walls of his introspection. His eyes darted ahead, and the only thing he saw beyond the thick undergrowth was a rocky precipice. Steam rose from somewhere below, and the scream, unmistakably human, sent a chill down his spine.

—

After doing your best to set up a makeshift camp amidst the unforgiving terrain, the contractions began to increase in intensity and frequency. Drenched in sweat, your body ached with fatigue, and desperation for the comfort of the hot spring surged within you. In your birthing gown, you summoned every ounce of strength to embark on the journey toward the soothing waters.

With slow, measured steps, you made your way to the spring, determined to find solace amidst the throes of labor. The contractions continued to grip you, and you fought to maintain your composure, focusing on deep breaths as you moved closer to the source of relief.

As you neared the milky waters, the soothing sound of the waterfall dumping cool water into the far end of the pool filled your ears. The natural geothermal heat emanated from the earth beneath the water, warming the fresh, chilly stream. You gingerly lowered yourself to the spring's edge, wincing through the persistent contraction that clawed at your strength.

With immense effort, you managed to sit on the edge of the pool, your feet dipping into the perfectly warm water. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the soothing waters enveloped your aching limbs. Slowly, you eased yourself into the warm embrace of the spring, its shallowness just deep enough for you to sit comfortably, your head above the waterline.

The warmth cocooned you, providing the much-needed respite your weary body craved. In the midst of your struggle, the hot spring became a sanctuary, a place where the pain of labor met the healing balm of nature, and for a fleeting moment, you found solace amidst the turmoil, embracing the precious gift of warmth and comfort in the midst of the wilderness.

You had lost track of how long you sat in the soothing water, your fingers pruning as the serene ambiance of the hot spring washed over you. Contented sighs intermittently left your lips as you found a momentary respite from the relentless contractions. The world around you seemed to blur as the hot spring cradled you in its gentle embrace.

But all too soon, your tranquility shattered like fragile glass. A pained cry tore through the rocky landscape. Your eyes shot open, searching for the source of the distress.

Your gaze darted towards the rugged ridge you had labored to climb mere hours earlier. Two voices reached your ears, one male and one female, carrying on the wind. Panic surged through you as you observed a hand ascending the top of the ridge. Your heart quickened, and you realized there were people approaching, their presence entirely unexpected.

With haste, you sprung up from your spot in the spring, water cascading off your birthing gown as you clambered to the edge of the pool.

A man, seemingly oblivious to your presence, ascended the ridge, a pack strapped to his back. He reached the flat rock and extended his hand below him. Your bare feet met the cold, rough surface of the gravely rock as you hurried over to the edge, your heart heavy with empathy for the woman in dire need. Down below, on the third rock shelf, you saw a woman, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her birthing gown stained with the evidence of her struggles.

“Isa a happis” (I will help!) you called out, your voice resolute, your determination evident. You easily crouched down next to the man, extending your hand to the one who was suffering. She gazed up at you, gratitude filling her eyes as she grasped your outstretched hand.

“Ona tice!” (On Three!) The man standing beside you declared, his voice strong and determined. You locked eyes with him, sharing the gravity of the situation, and both of you prepared to pull the distressed woman to safety. With a shared resolve, he began to count down, and on three, you pulled the woman up with surprising ease, your muscles working in harmony to lift her to safety.

Wide-eyed, she arrived at the top of the landing, blood staining her birthing gown, a visceral testament to the life that sought to enter the world. She cried out in agony, her body in the throes of birthing pains. Your attention shifted to the Illit, his face etched with desperation as he removed his pack, his hands trembling as he tried to assist his manna.

He grabbed her, his touch gentle yet urgent, realizing that there was no time to lose. Even as you watched, you could tell the baby was coming, the process inevitable now. The woman screamed, the sound echoing off the rocky walls, a symphony of pain and life in the midst of nature's raw beauty.

“Noona essa comesei ittina!” (the babe is coming now!) you urgently announce, your voice steady and commanding, as you motion for the father to cease his movements. He gazes at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness, the emotions palpable in the misty air.

Your own contractions, once so overwhelming, are now distant memories as you shift your focus entirely to the woman and her impending delivery. You position yourself between the woman's legs, and she leans back on her husband for support, the bond of love and trust between them evident in the way they clung to each other during this moment.

With gentle but purposeful hands, you begin to move the gauze of her birthing dress out of the way, revealing the sacred space where the new life is making its entrance into the world. The sight fills you with a profound sense of awe and wonder, the beauty of life in its most raw and unadulterated form.

As you catch the first glimpse of the emerging baby, a smile naturally graces your lips, a radiant reflection of the profound beauty you are about to witness. You look up at the father, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding and connection as you prepare to assist in guiding their child into the world, an act of grace in the heart of nature's splendor.

“Noona essa comesei! Attari noona bassi?” (The baby is coming, the baby cloth?) you urgently conveyed to the father, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy in the air. He blinked, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of emotions before comprehending your words. With careful haste, he gently leaned his wife back, supporting her amidst the agonizing pains as he reached for his pack against the wall.

Desperation etched on his face, he hurriedly threw various items from the bag, scattering them around in his search for the baby cloth. Every passing second felt like an eternity as the mother cried out in pain, her body instinctively bringing forth the baby as your hand supported its head.

Finally, after emptying the entire bag, the Illit father's shoulders slumped in defeat. His frustration boiled over, and he struck the rock wall with his fist, a primal cry of helplessness escaping his lips.

In the midst of this despair, you remained calm, your instincts taking over.

“Asa Passi! Attara noona bassi!” (In my pack! I have the baby cloth!) you shouted at the father, your voice carrying the urgency of the moment. With a quick motion, you pointed to your own pack, signaling where the much-needed baby cloth could be found. Your other hand remained cradling the head of the newborn, offering support and comfort to the laboring mother.

You ran a soothing hand over her leg as she summoned her last ounce of strength, pushing with all her might, and then, in a powerful moment, the babe broke free into the world. The father, having located the cloth meant for your own child in your pack, rushed over, his eyes wide with anxiety. You accepted the plain cloth from him, wasting no time in wrapping the baby in it.

The newborn lay still and silent, not letting out the expected cries that heralded a new life. A sense of despair washed over you, and you shared a helpless glance with the father, both of you fearing the worst.

The mother's wails of agony resonated in the rugged landscape, echoing the heartbreak of a life not granted breath. The anguish in the air was suffocating as she reached for her still baby, her hands trembling. With a heavy heart, you gently transferred the infant to the mother's waiting arms.

She cradled her lifeless child, tears streaming down her face as she caressed the baby, whispering soft words of love and heartbreak. Her cries mingled with those of her husband as they shared the unbearable moment of loss.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tore yourself away from the heart-wrenching scene of the manna. You felt a surge of emotions, a profound sense of hopelessness, reminiscent of the day you had received the news of your own pregnancy.

—

The anguished screams pierced the rugged terrain, reverberating through the rocky expanse, and Din felt his heart plummet through the soles of his boots. Grogu, sensing the turmoil in the air, cooed softly from the safety of his sling, nestled beneath Din's protective hand.

Carefully and quietly, Din approached the edge of the rocky ridge, his heart pounding with trepidation. As he looked down into the precipitous drop-off, his eyes fell upon a scene that nearly froze his heart in his chest.

Down below, amidst the harsh and unforgiving black surface of the rocky cavern, he saw you kneeling, a stoic presence, between the legs of a pregnant woman who was hemorrhaging profusely. The woman's anguished cries filled the cavern, echoing against the unforgiving walls.

Din's eyes then shifted to a man, who appeared to be the woman's partner, desperately rummaging through a pack, panic etched across his face. You spoke urgently in a language Din didn't understand, the words punctuated by fear and sorrow. The man seemed to heed your words and swiftly abandoned his fruitless search, rushing over to another pack that lay nearby. The man retrieved a gray cloth from the second pack and hurriedly approached where you were crouched.

Din observed, his eyes transfixed, as you, kneeling on the rocky cavern floor, expertly assisted the pregnant woman. With a mix of awe and sadness, he saw you pull a beautiful, newborn baby from the crying mother, delicate and fragile in your hands.

His gaze lingered as you carefully, almost mournfully, opened the grey cloth. To his dismay, he recognized the symbol displayed on it – a mudhorn. It was the very same symbol etched onto his own pauldron, the only identifier that you could tie to him. He watched as you used the cloth meant for your child, his child, to wrap the now purple baby in the blanket with meticulous care.

Cries and sobs filled the air as he watched from his hidden spot on the high cliff above. His sounds were likely muffled by the nearby waterfall, but he felt Grogu pulling at him, desperate for attention. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He continued to watch, hidden in the shadows.

He observed as you struggled to stand, your belly full with his child, and as you respectfully walked away to what he could now confirm as your pack. He could see the pain etched on your face, the tears in your eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt deep within him. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Din had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of; he'd walked a dark and treacherous path. He had hated himself when he handed Grogu over to the client for a camtono of beskar, but now, seeing you here, in this vulnerable moment, he hated himself more than he had ever thought possible.

The symbol on that blanket, the mudhorn, was a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected. As he watched you cry softly, he knew he couldn't change the past, but he could choose a different path now, one that might bring redemption and peace.

—

Hours passed by as the mother and her lifeless baby lay on the rocky outcrop. The father, now solemn and determined, prepared the pack for their descent. He spared you a thankful glance as he gently helped the mother stand, their shared grief connecting them. With cautious and uneasy steps, they began their descent down the cliffside.

The mother cradled her unbreathing babe, her heart heavy with loss, as she slowly made her way towards you. With some effort, you rose to your feet and met her halfway. Tears welled up in your eyes as she kissed your cheeks in gratitude.

“Illa-ishi, missa.” (Lonely mothers, sisters.) she said mournfully, her words heavy with the weight of shared sorrow. She placed a gentle hand on your belly, a silent acknowledgment of your pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment, you couldn't hold back a sob, and the two of you embraced tightly. In that moment, she became your sister in grief, and your shared loss bound you together in a way that words couldn't express.

As she and her husband began their descent, you watched them with a heavy heart. The blanket you had intended for your own child now wrapped around her lifeless baby, providing some small comfort in their time of mourning.

Left alone once more, you couldn't hold back your tears as you watched the husband carefully guide his grieving wife down the steep cliff and out of sight. As they disappeared from your view, a profound sense of isolation settled over you, and you wept softly, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Returning to the healing waters, you couldn't help but notice that your contractions had inexplicably ceased. Confused but hopeful, you gently felt around your belly and were met with a delicate, reassuring movement from within. A smile, albeit a tearful one, graced your face as you carefully lowered yourself back into the pool, ready to embrace whatever destiny the Gods had in store for you.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. From your elevated position, you had a perfect view of the sky as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of purple, pink, and orange ribbons. As you smiled to yourself, entranced by the beauty of nature, an unusual sound suddenly pierced the tranquility of the moment, snapping your attention to the cliff edge. Your heart raced as you strained to identify the source of this unexpected disturbance, a sense of both trepidation and curiosity gripping you.

As if by magic, a form suddenly flipped up onto the solid ground level with the pool. A small, green being emerged, making noises that were nearly drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over you as you beheld the sight of this tiny creature toddling towards you.

Driven by curiosity and amazement, you pushed yourself up and out of the water. Your birthing gown clung to your body as you moved, but you paid it no mind. Stepping onto the rock, you slowly rounded the corner of the pool to greet the small being.

To your astonishment, you realized it was a baby, with wide, innocent eyes and a furious babble. The baby lifted its tiny hands towards you, and you couldn't help but crouch down as best you could, your heart filled with warmth. "Noona?" you asked the little creature with a soft, amused laugh. In response, the tiny being gave you a toothy grin, and it made you laugh even more.

Your attention, however, shifted from the small being to a pair of gloved hands gripping the side of the rocky cliff. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized those gloves, and heat rushed into your face. With wide eyes, you watched as a figure clad in silver beskar, a Mandalorian, lifted themselves effortlessly over the cliff face and stood there with an almost regal grace.

From your crouched position, you observed as the green baby waddled over to the Mandalorian and tugged on his shin armor. The Mandalorian, with his helmeted face turned towards the child, bent down to pick up the little one, and you couldn't hide the confusion that replaced your initial joy.

—

Din's eyes remained locked on your form as he swiftly pulled himself up onto the flat surface of the cliff. He saw you kneeling down, fingers outstretched towards Grogu, the shock etched across your face. But his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the wet dress that clung to your swollen belly, a stark reminder of your impending motherhood.

As he felt Grogu tugging at his shin armor, he silently bent down to pick up the child. Still, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he struggled to find the right words to explain this unexpected reunion.

“I... I had a dream,” he finally managed to say, his voice choked with emotion.

Your eyes softened, and he witnessed your composure crumbling before him. Your confused and shocked expression melted into a soft frown as tears welled up in your eyes. Before he fully registered it, his feet carried him closer, and he knelt down in front of you with Grogu still cradled in his arms. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer some form of reassurance.

"Please... don't cry," he implored softly, the tenderness in his voice evident. However, he watched as you recoiled from his touch, your reaction sharp and violent, like a wounded animal cornered in fear.

—

"Don't cry," his voice was a gentle whisper from behind as he reached out to sweep your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with his left hand. His thumb, soft and reassuring, brushed away a solitary tear that had collected in the corner of your eye, preventing it from descending down your cheek.

The cold, unyielding embrace of his armor pressed against your back, a constant reminder of his presence, as if he permeated every inch of the room. You lay face down on the makeshift bed within the opulent suite, placed there by him in silence. His helmet tucked against the back of your head as his right hand reached around the front of your body to work open your tight entrance. He smelled like musk, metal, and something floral.

You didn't know his name, and in truth, you knew very little about him. All you knew was that he had paid a considerable sum for your services and bore a mudhorn symbol on his pauldron. The hushed whispers from the other women in the establishment painted a picture of a bounty hunter, a formidable figure who held the favor of the new Daimyo. He was a source of fear and fascination, and the idea of him both terrified and intrigued you. But, above all, you craved freedom more than anything else, and this was a means to an end.

As the moments unfolded, you couldn't hold back the tears that escaped, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. It wasn't bad; he wasn't unkind. In fact, you found him surprisingly polite. He had said nothing, just removed his gloves and led you to the makeshift bed, where he now pressed into your body from behind.

It felt fine, maybe even surprisingly good, but your stubbornness held strong. You were determined not to give the foreman the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed the path you had chosen to earn your freedom. The thought of succumbing to pleasure and surrendering to the moment felt like weakness, and you clung to your resolve with unwavering determination.

However, as his fingers moved softly, so softly, you couldn't help but feel your resistance slowly crumbling. Each touch was skillful, and the sensations they evoked were impossible to ignore.

You could feel a pleasure building within you as he continued his careful thrusting into your tightness. His thick fingers curled slightly as his thumb worked your clit. His left hand rests by your head as he made sure to move any hair out of your face. You had no idea if he was watching you through his visor, but you had assumed so because he wiped your tears and told you not to cry. The build up turned into a tightness that needed to be released, he could tell by how hot you’d gotten under him and how your walls fluttered on his fingers.

He felt a pride well up in him at the knowledge that he still had the ability to bring a woman pleasure but also that you’d finally relaxed enough to allow yourself to feel this. He closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on how your walls felt around his fingers, he willed himself to listen to your body. Upon each drawback of his fingers he worked to spread your tight cunt just slightly- three, four, five more thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tremble under him.

His eyes snapped open, and he observed you biting your hand to stifle any sounds. He felt the flutter of your walls on his fingers as he stilled in order to relish in the feel your softness. He watched you come back from wherever you had gone in your high, his hand moving gently to caress the hand you had bitten, the teeth marks already leaving a faint purplish hue. As his thumb brushed over the marked area, he felt the slight tremor in your body, your vulnerability laid bare, and saw the glistening tears welling up in your eyes once more.

“Don’t cry.” he said again before moving to sit back on his heels. He admired your form, the way the flame lit room made your skin look like silk. You were totally bare to him, he’d undressed you slowly and carefully placed your clothing next his gloves on the chair. He was still fully clothed save for the gloves he’d removed. He watched as your form began to stir, and he carefully placed a hand on your lower back to keep you down. You immediately complied. With a sigh he slowly ran his hand down your back to the curve of your ass and to the back of your thigh. He could see the slick from your arousal glimmering in the soft light.

He could see everything, every intimate part of you, and yet he didn’t allow you the joy of seeing him. He couldn’t.

You sat, staring at the wall ahead of you, the seconds feeling like hours, with him seated behind you. The situation was embarrassing, and you could only hope he wasn't disgusted. You had assumed he was finished with you after whatever had just happened, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed, not harshly but rather in a silent, pleading manner. After a moment, you heard him stir behind you, and you froze, your ears attuned to his every movement.

You heard a soft rustling of fabrics and buckles. He came to rest on you again, with his left hand resting by your left hand. His right hand gripped your waist as he shifted you back towards him. This position shifted you more so your backside was resting against his thighs while your chest was flush with the pillows beneath you. He was able to bend over you more like this so he comfortably rested on his left arm above you.

His right hand left your waist and you felt the warmth of his hand in between your legs. You could feel the soft head of his hard cock turn to velvet as he ran it through your slick folds. You clenched the pillow underneath you as you braced yourself for the pain the other women had told you about. You felt pressure against your entrance and instinctively you tried to move away only to feel his hand move like lightning from between your thighs to your waist as he anchored you in place.

He didn’t say anything just held you there as he slowly pushed the head of his cock deeper into your entrance. His grip once iron on your waist turned soft as his thumb brushed circles into the skin there. Slowly he sank deeper and that’s when you felt it, the sharp uncomfortable sting. You tensed under him at the pain and you felt him freeze above you. His left hand moved to grab your face beneath him, turning your cheek so he could see you. You looked over your left shoulder to peer up at him, his cold visor returning your gaze. You couldn't help the tear that fell as you clutched the pillows.

"Don't..." his voice was strained through the vocoder, and you knew he was holding back, for you.

—

"Do not say that to me!" Your pained and thickly accented voice ripped through the air as you swatted his arm away. The green child yelped softly at your sudden movement.

Din's eyes widened. It was the first thing you had said to him. You hadn't spoken a word that night. He recoiled from you in shame.

He watched as you cried, emotions swirling within him like a chaotic storm.

"You shouldn't be out here," he managed to say as he stood abruptly, his words tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. He glanced around, finally taking in the grim surroundings. Blood still pooled on the rocky ground where the woman had given birth earlier. Even worse, the remains of skeletons lay strewn about, their shattered bones mixed with the gravel under his boots.

"This is a graveyard, not a place for a woman in your condition to give birth," he grumbled, regretting the harshness of his words. The eerie desolation of this place was overwhelming, and he couldn't make sense of anything. The grim reality of death and birth intertwined in this forsaken corner of the galaxy was too much for him to bear.

Your face, your soft, beautiful, and glowing face looked up at him then.

"This is where I am meant to be," your broken voice hit him right in the chest.

For a moment, Din just stood there, his helmeted gaze locked on you. Grogu stirred in his arms and he set the child down. His gaze shifted from Grogu to the pack leaning against the rocky wall, the very same pack he had seen a man carrying at the market, with his wife in tow. It was the same pack he had witnessed being carried by the man who was desperate, carrying his bleeding wife. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in Din's mind.

"Did you... carry that alone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked from you to the pack and back.

You huffed, annoyance coloring your features, and moved to stand. Din instinctively reached out to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You stood, resolute, and locked eyes with him through his visor.

"Yes. I am illa-ishi," you declared firmly, your words laden with meaning.

Din furrowed his brow, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Illa-ishi?" he repeated, the word alien to him.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he didn't understand. "I am a lonely mother," you tried to find the right words that could translate to Basic.

He continued to stare, his helmet giving away nothing. You huffed in frustration and attempted again, simplifying your words. "I am alone." you finally settled on, hoping he would grasp the essence of your situation.

Din just stared at you, seemingly uncomprehending. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the green child peered up at you, as if offering a sympathetic glance. Frustrated with the language barrier, you turned to walk towards your pack and bedroll.

As you began to walk away, Din's gloved hand gently gripped your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks. You shot an annoyed look back at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

Din's gloved thumb moved soothingly circles on your arm, his gaze locked on you. He took a moment to search for the right words, his voice barely rising above a gravelly whisper.

"Is...is this mine?" he questioned, his words weighted with uncertainty, his voice low and husky.

Your eyes fixated on his hand caressing your arm, and tears welled up again, threatening to break free. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to hold them back, forcing yourself to look directly into the reflective visor of his helmet. You saw your own tear-streaked face in the cold, mirrored surface of the Mandalorian's armor, and it was a sight that turned your stomach.

"Yes. I've... never been with another. Only you," the confession tumbled from your lips, the words feeling strange and heavy in your mouth. Your body tensed, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness envelop you, a contraction, your first since the bleeding mother had shown up. You gasp in agony as your knees buckle under you.

"Dank farrik!" Din's initial worry had given way to frustration as he cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed you, his gloved hands steadying you gently while Grogu made a sad noise from his perch on the ground.

"We have to get you out of here. Is there a medcenter near here?" His voice trembled with desperation as he crouched down to meet your gaze.

"What?!" You hissed exasperatedly through the pain, your frustration and agony making you bristle.

"Medcenter!" Din almost yelled, and his eyes widened when you shoved him away.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa! As illa a ma a iss!" you shouted at him in anguish, your words foreign to his ears but laced with undeniable determination. (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her!)

Din stood there, still as stone, as your scream washed over him.

He looked at you, his gaze falling to your trembling hands, one of them wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself and regain control.

He was going about this the wrong way. You had climbed the treacherous cliff, your cloth bore the sigil of the Mudhorn, and your pack was identical to the ones the men had carried. You had a well-thought-out plan; he just hadn't been part of it.

With newfound determination, he approached you, taking careful, measured steps. Kneeling down beside you, he spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"How do I help you?" he asked, his words breaking through the haze of pain that enveloped you.

You slowly looked up at him through your tears, your eyes locked onto his helmet. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mouth slightly ajar as you processed the situation. With a trembling hand, you pointed towards the spring nearby. "Take me there," you said softly, your voice heavy with the weight of your suffering.

In an instant, Din's strong hands found purchase under your knees and behind your back, and he lifted you with great care, not wanting to cause you any harm. You flushed with the ease of him carrying you, a thought flickering across your mind of how much simpler scaling the cliff might have been if he had been there. But you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on the immediate task at hand. You wrapped your left arm around the back of his neck and placed your right hand protectively over your belly, the hard surface of his armor uncomfortably pressing against your side as he carried you toward the inviting hot spring.

"I can go from here," you said in thick, broken Basic, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

Din regarded you, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to understand. His gaze alternated between the steaming water and your face. "You want to go in the water?" he asked, as if seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I can go from here," you repeated, pushing against him with a touch of defiance. His grip tightened, surprising you with its strength, and you nearly yelped in response. Shooting him a displeased look, you tried to assert your independence.

"What, and let you slip?" he asked, gazing at you through his visor before looking ahead. "No." He had made up his mind, and there was no arguing with the Mandalorian's decision.

As you were lowered into the hot spring, the initial shock of the water's heat gave way to a soothing relief. Din was surprised by how inviting it felt, and he understood why pregnant women sought refuge in such places. The water enveloped his boots and rose just above his knees as he carried you into the pool. You held onto him with a newfound intensity as he descended, afraid that he might lose his footing. Your disbelief mixed with gratitude as you realized the extent of his support.

Finding solid ground beneath the water, Din gently released your knees, allowing your feet to dip into the warm embrace of the pool. His hand slid from your back to your waist, ensuring your stability, and he positioned himself behind you in the water. You stood just below his chin, and if he desired, he could easily rest his chin on your head. His right hand remained on your waist, his gloved fingers splayed out on your side, providing you with a reassuring and protective presence.

A powerful surge of emotion overcame Din as he felt the subtle movements of the life within you under his fingertips. He stood there, motionless and transfixed, as you faced away from him, both of you submerged in the comforting warmth of the spring. His eyes traced the contour of your back, the gentle rise and fall as you breathed, and then slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he found himself resting his forehead against the back of your head, his helmet touching your soft hair.

He grappled with where to place his left hand, uncertain of the right way to provide comfort. His gaze drifted downwards, fixating on the water where he saw your dress floating softly as it began to soak in the pool. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the small of your back, gripping the back of your waist with a gentle touch.

In the midst of his turmoil, a soft, barely audible sob escaped his lips, and tears welled up inside his helmet, tracing their way down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice broken and full of guilt. It was a plea for forgiveness, an attempt to convey the overwhelming regret that consumed him. He clung to your form, feeling the life inside you, the life he had a part in creating and then abandoned.

His wallowing in self-recrimination was shattered by the sound of your voice and the tender touch of your hand as it caressed his right hand.

"Don't cry," your words were soft and filled with sincerity. In that moment, as the tears flowed within his helmet, you offered him understanding and forgiveness. He felt worthy of neither.

#din djarin x pregnant reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mando x reader #star wars #star wars the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Fresh Start [16]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: medical trauma, mild gore (I’m not super descriptive), mentions of blood, angst, fluff, domestic bliss, brief male masturbation, tons of self doubt, idiots in love

Word Count: 10k+

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #16: I DON’T WANT IT TO BE A SIN

a/n: if you thought the sneak peek i gave you was peak domestic bliss y’all ain’t gonna know what hit you right out the gate👀

“i had never met a soul

who could speak my language.

until there was you.

you, are fluent in me.”

-lonely.penguin

When you reached the front door of the house, it occurred to you that just walking in could be a problem. With all the drama going on today, the last thing you needed was adding ‘accidentally breaking Din’s creed’ to the list. You poked your head in and called out, “Hey, I’m home!”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Din called out. His voice didn’t sound modulated, but the words made it seem like he’d be ready for you by the time you arrived. You closed the door behind you and seconds later you heard Grogu’s voice hollering for you.

“Ma, ma, ma, ma!” He chanted while turning the corner and rushing toward you. Seeing his cheery demeanor as he waddled to you, full of life and energy, made you forget every single worry that was clouding your mind.

“Grogu!” You gasped with a grin. Quickly, you knelt down in time for him to leap into your arms and you cradled him to your chest, peppering kisses along the top of his head, “Hi, baby. I was so worried about you.”

“Missed ma.” Grogu buried his face into the crook of your neck and tears sprung to your eyes. Maker, you were pathetically emotional today. When you looked up from the boy hugging you, you saw Din leaning against the wall with his helmet on. His arms were crossed over his broad chest. His black t-shirt was form fitting and you couldn’t help but admire the skin available for you to stare at. Knowing he didn’t reveal himself in this state to anyone else made your face flush with warmth. Grogu un-buried his face from your neck to set his hands on your cheeks⏤ dragging your attention back to him. “Epar.”

You ran through the dictionary of Mando’a words you knew until you found the familiar word. “Eat? Did buir make food?”

“Buir tried.” Din grunted. “But someone is being picky.”

Grogu blew a raspberry at his father and both you and Din chuckled in response. Picky or not, having Grogu awake and playing was such a relief. Din pushed off the wall and drifted closer. As he approached, you felt your breath catch in your throat. If Din noticed he didn’t comment. Instead, he caressed the side of your arm with the back of his fingers before letting his hand trail down until it rested on your lower back. With this new position, Grogu was sandwiched between the two of you.

“Hi.” You mumbled softly.

“Hi.” Din echoed back, but his voice was tinged in amusement. “How was Nima?”

You nodded. “Good. She’s good. How⏤ Um, did you⏤ I was wondering⏤”

“Are you hungry?” Din asked simply as you tried and failed to squeeze out a sentence about your future. “I made three different meals because Grogu asked for them then changed his mind after a bite. So you have options.”

You gave him a small nod and Din led you toward the kitchen keeping his hand on your back. On the kitchen counter, as he said, were three small portions of different dishes. Each with a Grogu sized bite taken out of it. You ticked Grogu in the side. “What do you wanna eat, baby?”

“It’s a trap. Don’t believe anything the little womp rat says.” Din hummed.

“You’re not a little womp rat. You’re a little angel, aren’t you?” Grogu giggled at your cooing and his laughter increased at the sound of his father’s scoff of disbelief. You opened the fridge with Grogu in your arms and let him peer in. Regardless of what he asked for, you were going to make him something light. The last thing you wanted to do was upset his stomach. But considering you still wanted to give him one more dose of antibiotics, he definitely needed to eat something. Grogu began to point at the fruit drawer and you chuckled. “Okay, baby. How about you go hang out with buir while mama makes lunch?”

“Come here, ad’ika.” Din held his arms out to take Grogu from you.

It didn’t take you long to prep the snack for him. You had taken the plain yogurt in the fridge and used the blender to mix the fruit and yogurt together. His favorite fruit was a bit acidic so you wanted to make it less so with the yogurt. When it was made up, you brought the bowl over to Din and Grogu and scooped a bit on a spoon. He took the first spoonful then chirped for another.

Din snorted with a shake of his head. “You’re really becoming a mama’s boy, you know that?”

Grogu ignored him and continued to take any spoonful you offered him. You shot Din a sheepish smile, “Sorry. I promise I’m not trying to steal him away.”

“Don’t be.” Din replied. He used the hand not holding Grogu to hold the boy’s hand. “I like to see it. I’m happy he has a mama to be a mama’s boy for.” Your heart skipped a beat in your chest⏤ something you thought only to be a figure of speech. “I can finish feeding him if you want to eat.”

You nervously shook your head. “Can we⏤ Can we talk before we eat?”

“Of course. Say what you need to say, ner kar’ta.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could say something.” You admitted. Grogu, plenty happy with his food and being surrounded by those who loved him, just lightly bounced in Din’s arms as you fed him. You shrugged. “I assume… Did you read my file?”

“I did.”

“And?”

You waited nervously as Din remained silent. As comfortable as it had been seconds before, you didn’t want to fall into a lull of false security. You wanted Din to share his opinion so you could figure out your standing in his life. Finally, after feeding Grogu five more spoonfuls, Din spoke.

“What is a fat embolism?”

The spoon in your hand shook as your hand trembled and you were forced to set it down into the bowl. Grogu whined at the motion. It took you a moment before your hand felt steady enough to resume feeding the child. What a question. A lawyer had asked you the exact same thing while in court. It had been difficult to answer then as well and not because of a lack of knowledge.

“It’s when a globule of fat blocks blood flow.” You murmured. “You can see it after trauma. Fat seeps out of a bone fracture, gets into the bloodstream, and it…” You took in a slow breath. “It’s not always fatal. You just have to catch it early, and we⏤ I didn’t.”

Din nodded. “That’s what the file said. That Soran’s cause of death was cardiopulmonary arrest due to a pulmonary fat embolism.”

“I thought we were in the clear.” You said and your voice came out in a whimper. “I thought she was okay. She was stable. Soran was stable.” There was that word again. Stable. It hadn’t met anything that day. Maybe that’s why you had used it so much last night and this morning. If you said it enough it would be true. You should’ve said it more that day. “She was stable and then she wasn’t.”

Finished with the bowl of yogurt and pureed fruit, Grogu whined to be let down and when Din followed the child’s instruction Grogu waddled away. Both of you watched him heard toward the hall before Din’s focus on you pulled you back into the moment. He reached out and let just the tip of his fingers drag down your arm⏤ leaving a trail of fire against your skin. Din didn’t stop until his hand slipped into yours, fingers tangling together.

There was a sense of security that came with the weight of his hand in yours. Din’s thumb traced circles where it rested. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“Can you walk me through it? I don’t know a lot about medicine.” Din lifted his hand, carrying yours with it, and rested it against his chest. The back of your palm pressed against his heart. You could feel it’s steady beat. “Not unless it’s bacta or cautery, that is.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment, but it was short lived. You gave a small shrug. “She crashed. Soran couldn’t breathe. There was no other reason for it so I knew it had to be a clot. I had hoped it was a blood clot. I could fix that.” You pressed your lips together. Eyes focusing on the edge of his helmet⏤ unable to meet the eyes you couldn’t even see. “Started a blood thinner to break apart the clot, but it didn’t help. That’s when I knew… the blockage wasn’t a blood clot. It was a fat globule.”

“What are you supposed to do for that?”

“There’s nothing you can do. Not at that point.” You answered. “We don’t have a medicine to break up a fat embolism quickly. The moment it got lodged in her lungs like that…”

Din nodded. “How do you prevent that from happening after a trauma? Is there a medicine for that?”

“Well, no, you⏤ Din, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to understand.” He replied. “The court transcripts had a few different testimonies. They all had a common agreement. Every doctor interviewed said Soran was dead the moment that building landed on her.”

You shook your head and tried to pull your hand away, but Din’s grip tightened. He wouldn’t let you go. “She was my best friend. I knew her since we were kids. We grew up together⏤ we were neighbors. I shouldn’t have been her doctor.”

“You were the only one available at the time. You tried to find someone, but there was no one else.” Din replied. “If you hadn’t jumped in, then she would’ve died even sooner.” He leaned forward. “The starship collision caused the building she worked in to collapse. Soran got trapped in the rubble. A pillar fractured her femur and shattered her pelvis.” The way he spoke was as if he had memorized the transcript itself. “Soran was trapped for eight hours before she was un-buried and brought to your ED. A pulmonary fat embolism, something you said that can’t be prevented or treated, can form six hours after even a single fracture.”

Your bottom lip quivered and you bit down on it in a poor attempt to control your emotions. These were all facts you knew. Logically, you understood everything, but there was a part of you that could not shake the guilt that planted roots in your heart. The entire trial you had sat in a haze. You barely remembered the specifics of those days. In fact, only one memory stuck with you⏤ the hatred and rage in Kurt’s eyes as he stared at you from the court gallery.

“There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard before, Din.” You mumbled.

“I know. I’m sure.” Din nodded once. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to say it.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Ner kar’ta, you did not kill your best friend.” The unshed tears collecting in your eyes spilled over. “Soran did not die by your hands. You were just the last hands to care for her⏤ the last hands to show her love.”

A shaky sob spilled from your lips and Din’s other hand came to rest on the back of your neck. He pulled you into his chest and rested his chin on top of your head. You had heard so many people tell you it wasn’t your fault. Each time was a different variation of the same words. But, nobody had said it quite like Din. Nobody painted your last actions with her in a loving manner. You cried into his chest and Din murmured reassurances in Mando’a⏤ the rumbling of his voice just as much a comfort as the beating of his heart.

A force tugging at the pants around your ankle made you pull back. Grogu stood by your feet, holding his stuffed frog, and stared up at you with a tilt to his head and concern in his eyes. You let out a shaky, pathetic laugh and let go of Din to scoop the child up. When Grogu was nestled into your chest, Din pulled you back into his. There was a lot of baggage to wade through, and you knew one heartfelt conversation wasn’t going to cure everything. However, in Din’s arms you found peace.

Din Djarin was living in domestic bliss. That was the only way to describe his current state. Nearly two weeks had passed since Grogu was sick and the pirates attacked. Since then, Grogu had been picture perfect in terms of health and the busiest he had been, work wise, was when two pilots got in a fist fight over ship parking in the hangar. At home, things were nearly perfect. A wall had been broken after the discussion about Soran, you seemed more open and free. The job Karga had offered you was put out of mind it seemed, and Din had made it very clear to the High Magistrate that if he bothered you about becoming Nevarro’s physician he’d beat the kriffing hell out of him.

The only thing that kept his situation from becoming fully perfect was the fact that Din had never been more sexually frustrated in his entire life. He had never felt closer to you emotionally, but physically your relationship hadn’t progressed beyond what happened the morning Karga interrupted the two of you. Din took advantage of the little moments available to him. A caress on your arm as he was passing you in the hall, leaning into your side when the two of you shared a couch playing with Grogu, setting his hands on your hips to peer over your shoulder while you made food. He treasured every moment because it was all he had. Never mind the fact that if he stared at you for too long the urge to rip your clothes off and pick up where left off became overwhelming.

But Din didn’t want to push. Karga bringing up your past had obviously been traumatic, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to pressure you into something you weren’t sure of because you were emotional. In the bathroom with your lips pressed against his every scar you seemed more than eager to reciprocate his desires, but since then he had been the only one to initiate touch. You never turned him down and when his hands brushed against you it brought a smile to your face, but that was all. You didn’t make the effort to touch him first and that was beginning to make Din nervous.

Had he misread your initial interest? Or had things just changed?

Regardless of the reasoning, it left Din beating his frustrations out in the shower⏤ one hand wrapped around his cock in a tight fist pathetically trying to pretend like your hands were on him once more. He felt shame with his actions. You were innocently padding around the house chasing after his son while trying to make breakfast and here he was picturing what it’d feel like to have your pretty lips wrapped around him. It made Din feel downright depraved, but then again he never claimed to be a good man. His breath hitched as the thrusts into his hands grew erratic. His other arm rested on the shower wall, bare forehead pressed against his forearm, as hot water from the shower ran down his back.

“Din!” Your voice came from the other side of the door as your knuckles rapped against the door. Hearing his name from your lips, Din came with a shudder and though he buried his mouth against his forearm to hide his pleasure a moan still slipped out. “Din? Are you alright?”

Maker, you really were going to be the death of him. Din cleared his throat, “I’m⏤ I’m fine. Just... moved wrong.” Din blurted. He had been out during the night taking care of a few reptavians who had left their nest in the lava plains to try and settle in the streets. He handled it without even having to call Mayfeld or Cara for backup, but it’d work fine as an excuse. “A reptavian⏤”

“Did you get hurt?” You asked and the concern in your voice made his chest ache. “I asked earlier and you said you were fine! Do I need to get my kit? They’re venomous creatures, aren’t they?”

Din flipped the shower’s handle from hot to cold and grimaced when the icy water replaced the warmth. It was necessary though. As absolutely pathetic as it was, the sound of your voice was going to make him hard again. He grunted out, “I just pulled my shoulder I think. No wounds for you to cauterize.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d lower myself to using a cautery.” You joked. Din chuckled and ran his hands over his face in a poor attempt to get a hold of himself. “I wanted to let you know breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a second.” He called back.

The sound of your fading footsteps made him heave a sigh of relief. Din let the ice water run over him for a moment more before shutting it off and reaching for a towel. Dank farrik. Din quickly pulled on his shirt and a pair of sweatpants before using the towel to dry his hair best he could. It’d be nice to dry it entirely before putting his helmet on, but that meant spending more time in the bathroom. Din scratched the scruff at his jawline and his stupid brain wondered if you’d prefer a clean shaven guy. He muttered a string of curses under his breath in annoyance at himself before shoving his helmet onto his head.

When he stepped out, he noticed Grogu waiting for him at the end of the hall in the arch that led into the kitchen. The little boy giggled while bouncing in place. Din tilted his head. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, ad’ika?”

“Where did⏤” Your voice drifted toward him. “Grogu, did you eat your buir’s sandwich??”

Grogu giggled again. Din chuckled and pointed at him, “Come here, you little womp rat.” Grogu squealed in excitement and rushed away. Din chased after his son who ran and jumped to avoid him. You laughed from your spot leaning against the kitchen counter. Din paused as he watched Grogu leap into your arms. He set his hands on his hips, “You think your ma can keep you from me, ad’ika?”

Din took a step around the counter, but stopped again when he noticed you mirrored his step with a smirk⏤ maintaining the same distance between the two of you. He tilted his head, lips curling into a grin under his helmet. You shrugged. “I promised to take care of Grogu and if that means protecting him from a Mandalorian…”

“I can respect that.” Din took another slow step in your direction and you stumbled back. Grogu began to pat on your shoulder as a warning. His son knew that if you really wanted to escape you’d need to start moving right now⏤ not that that would really stop him. “You know, you have a bad habit of challenging Mandalorians.”

The last time you had challenged him, while lying in bed with Grogu, Din ended up on top of you. That was the kind of situation he’d be more than happy to repeat. Grogu whined for you to run and Din found it amusing that his son was aware of any warning sign he might have. You seemed to think you were still in a position of power when the exact opposite was true.

“Mmm, not Mandalorians. Just you.” You smirked. Din felt feral. Combining the idea of an adrenaline filled hunt and his desire for you was an addicting prospect. He liked it way, way more than he should. “What’re you gonna do about it, Djarin?”

Din slipped his hands into his sweatpants pockets, the picture of casual nonchalance, and grinned in excitement under his helmet. “I can bring you in warm,” He didn't bother hiding the amusement in his voice, “or I can bring you in cold.”

Grogu snickered conspiratorially, and you arched a single eyebrow in challenge. Din needed no further invitation. Quicker than you had probably assumed, he lunged forward and you yelped in surprise followed by a laugh. You ran from him, hurrying around the kitchen island, and Din gave chase. Without his heavy armor and gear, Din was faster than he was out in the field. He could end this chase in a second or two, but where was the fun in that? Din stayed close enough to be a threat, but far enough to allow you to slip away from him consistently. The sound of his deep chuckles mingled with the pitch of Grogu and your laughs.

You rounded the couch, with the thought that a barrier would keep him from you. It was a fair thought, but Din hurdled over the sofa in one smooth movement and landed in front of you. You cried out in surprise and tried to spin to turn the opposite way. Din was quick to wrap his arms around your middle and lift you up off the ground with ease. He still found it cute that you had worried you’d be too heavy for him. You squirmed in his arms, but he simply tightened his.

Din could tell you about the time he had to trek across a Tatooine desert in his full gear while carrying Grogu and everything he had on a land speeder that had been destroyed in a fight⏤ including all of Boba Fett’s gear. That would come off as bragging though, wouldn’t it? Not that Din didn’t want to brag, but he at least didn’t want to be obvious about it.

“Hey!” You twisted to try and escape his grasp while Grogu leaned over your shoulder and tapped on his helmet while babbling demands between each giggle that left him. To stop your squirming, Din roughly squeezed your sides which caused even louder laughs to leave you. He didn’t know you were ticklish. It had just been a guess. One he found immense pleasure in discovering. “No tickling! That’s not fair!”

“I never claimed to play fair.” Din hummed, nestling his head by yours.

“You’re the marshal. I’m pretty sure there are laws that say I have rights.”

“Hmm, alright.” Din replied. He squeezed you once more, eliciting another startled laugh, before dropping you back to your feet so he could spin you around. Din kept his hands on your hips caging you against his chest. He tilted his head. “Would you like me to bring out a pair of binders?”

“I, uh, I…” You were grasping for words.

“Buir, parjii!” Grogu praised.

Winner. That was a good word to describe him right now. With you and Grogu in his arms, Din felt like he had won the universe. Din took Grogu from your arms and set him on the ground, “Tsikador.” Grogu whined briefly. “Ad’ika.”

Grogu mumbled an affirmative before waddling toward his room. You began to turn to help Grogu get ready for the day, but Din tightened his grip on you. Your attention focused back on him with wide and curious eyes. Din cleared his throat, nervous suddenly, and he nodded. “I wanted to…”

“What is it, Din?”

Before he could lose his nerve, Din took a steadying breath and let his hands leave your hips to settle on his helmet. He wanted you to see his face. All his fears remained. What if he felt even less like himself as he drifted further away from his Creed? What if he was overplaying his hand? What if you meant more to him than he did to you and this just scared you away? What if you didn’t like his appearance? The fears were loud in his mind, but the way he felt about you was so much louder.

Din began to lift when your hands suddenly shot up to cover his⏤ halting his movements. It caught him off guard, as did the panic in your eyes. You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“It’s alright, ner kar’ta.” Din reassured. “I’m okay with this. I want this.”

He tried once more, but your hands tugged his helmet back in place. You swallowed nervously. “I…” Realization dawned on him then. It wasn’t that you were concerned for him. You didn’t want this. Din felt his heart plummet in his chest. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

Your voice was soft and quiet, yet the words might as well have been screamed in his face with the way he was feeling⏤ like all the air had been pulled out of the room and he was suffocating. Din let his hands fall and he took a step back. One foot between the two of you might as well have felt like miles. Suddenly, new fears ran amok in his mind fueling his anxiety. Had he tricked himself into seeing something that wasn’t there? Ever since that day, you hadn’t initiated or returned any of his advances. Maker, had he been making you uncomfortable? Was he just some sleemo boss harassing you and because of his position you felt you couldn’t tell him to stop? Din had never hated himself more. He knew he was terrible at relationships and forming connections, but this was worse than he could’ve kriffing imagined.

“I should help Grogu. I promised him I’d take him to the park this morning.” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “You should get some sleep. You were out all night⏤ I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Right.” Din mumbled. You offered him a small, polite smile and hurried away. He forced himself to wander to the kitchen island where the food you made for breakfast, the items Grogu hadn’t scarfed down, lay waiting. Din found he didn’t have much of an appetite right now.

Dank farrik.

You wanted to punch yourself in the face. Was that something physically possible? Maybe you’d ask Nima to do it for you. If you told her the mistake you made, Maker knows she’d be tempted anyway. Din wanted to show you his face. Din trusted you enough that he wanted to take his helmet off and reveal his face, and like the Maker damned idiot you were, you said no. Even with the helmet on, you could tell he was hurt. It radiated off him and it was why you had to rush away from him.

Dank farrik, you were so stupid.

You had panicked. The way Din made you feel in such a short amount of time was terrifying. It wasn’t until Karga shed light on your past that you realized just how much he made you feel. Din brought you a comfort you didn’t know you’d be able to experience. The longer you thought about it the more scared you became⏤ the more worried. You started working for Din a few months ago. That was it. Not even half a year yet. You barely knew Din, and Din barely knew you. Sure, he knew a bit more about you now thanks to Karga, but that was just the surface.

Your greatest fear was that you were taking advantage of Din. One of the things you did know about him was how protective he was. He showcased it with everyone in his life. The thought that Din was just growing attached to you because you needed comfort⏤ needed protecting⏤ was hardly ideal. Add that to the fact that you were his son’s caretaker. You just didn’t want Din to feel obligated to you in any way.

These were the thoughts and regrets that plagued you as you sat on a park bench watching Grogu play with a few of the other kids on the playground. You were mildly tempted to bury yourself alive in the sandbox as repentance for the morning. That’d be easier than puzzling out your twisted heart.

“You look like you’re having a hell of a morning.”

You turned to see Jaen standing at the end of the bench. The young woman had a daughter she had adopted who shared a class with Grogu. Where Jaen had dark skin with short wavy hair, her daughter, Elodie, was a light skinned toddler with blonde curls and bright green eyes. You had grown close with Jaen as Grogu grew close to Elodie. In fact, you could see the little girl was now sitting in the sand with Grogu as they played.

“It went from amazing to bad, shockingly fast.” You admitted. “And it was all my fault.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jaen sat down beside you, crossing her legs.

You sighed. “It’s Mando. I messed up this morning.”

“You guys have a fight or something?”

You began to explain your morning in vague details. Just enough for Jaen to understand the depth in which you had fucked up. The young woman listened intently and nodded along. “I shouldn’t have panicked like I did. It’s just⏤” You threw your hands up frustrated. “He once told me that the only people who would get to see his face are his children, like Grogu, and his wife. His wife. What does that mean that he wants to show me his face? And⏤And, what if he shows me his face and then regrets it? He’d be choosing me over his Creed in that moment, and if I don’t live up to his expectations then he’s gonna be disappointed and I’m just going to be the woman who made him break his Creed. Again.”

Jaen nodded a few times in thought, humming to herself, then narrowed her eyes at you, “You’re already his wife though, aren’t you?”

“What??” You shook your head.

“I thought you and the Marshal were married and Grogu was your kid.” Jaen replied. “The two of you are always together, you live in the same house, I just assumed…”

“No. No, no. I am not his wife. I’m his son’s nanny.”

Jaen paused a beat then tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Well, last time I checked at least.” You scoffed. Jaen’s husband, Dayen, walked up with three cups of caf. He handed the first cup to Jaen then took the one stacked on his other to hand to you. Dayen looked like he could actually be Elodie’s father⏤ his blond hair was a similar shade and his skin was only a bit darker due to working in the sun. “Thank you so much. I really needed this.”

Dayen grinned and Jaen scooted closer to you so he could sit at the end of the bench by her. “No problem, Soran.” After having your talk with Din, it almost felt odd to hear people call you by that name. Something had changed. You had initially taken her name out of guilt⏤ a way to keep her name alive. Now it felt… It felt like it didn’t fit anymore. “You were looking rough. No offense.”

“Oh!” Jaen lightly tapped his chest with the back of her hand. “You’re not gonna believe this. Soran and Mando aren’t together.”

“Yeah, they are.” He argued. “They’re married.” Jaen shook her head and he leaned forward to narrow his eyes at you in confusion. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Apparently, you guys know something I don’t.”

Jaen shifted so her back was to her husband and she could face you. “Alright. So what are you gonna do then?”

“Well,” You slumped in your seat and took a big sip of your caf before speaking again, “I was thinking about burying myself alive in the sandbox before you guys got here.”

“So, we got here in the nick of time, then?” Dayen chuckled.

Jaen shook her head. “Okay, walk me through exactly what happened again. I stopped listening out of shock when I realized the two of you weren’t married.”

You let out a small laugh followed by another sip of caf. Just as you did before, you talked about how your morning went and then you dove into the way it made you feel. This time you couldn’t bite back the list of fears that plagued you. When you finished, Jaen and Dayen were both staring at you with wide eyes.

“I overshared, didn’t I?” You sighed.

“Not an overshare.” Jaen replied. “Just a lot. You have a lot of feelings.”

You buried your face in one hand and groaned. Wasn’t that the epitome of everything that was wrong? Your friend reached out to set her hand on your shoulder and you let your own hand fall away to meet her gaze. Jaen chuckled. “You listed a lot of things you’re worried about, but something tells me that deep down it’s only one that’s holding you back. Everything else is just an add-on excuse.” She shrugged. “You have to figure out what that one thing is and address it. Otherwise, you’re always gonna freeze up.”

“Huh.” You mumbled in thought.

Dayen gave you a thumbs up. “She knows what she’s talking about. Usually.”

“Usually??” Jaen spun back around to glare at him.

“Always. I said, always.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You’re so pretty.”

“Uh huh.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the bond between the two of them. It made you think of Din. Even now, unsure and confused and panicked, seeing a moment like this he was the first to come to mind. You wanted that. You wanted to sit on a park bench with him, watching Grogu play, as your fingers tangled with his. The thought overwhelmed you. Why was it so easy for you to feel this way right now, but panic the way you did when Din offered you the first step toward this?

You took another long sip of caf as your brain tried to untangle itself. Grogu and Elodie were in the process of building a sand castle with two other kids. In the distance, you heard the squealing of metal on metal followed by the loud crash of an impact. You stiffened in your seat, everyone in the park following suit, when the sound of a woman screaming filled the air. You recognized that sound.

“Watch Grogu.” You said as you came to stand. The cup of caf fell to the ground and it spilled as the lid popped off. “Jaen please⏤”

“We will, but⏤” Jaen stood. Dayen was already running to the sand box to grab both children. You took off running as well, but your direction was toward the scream. “Soran! Soran, what are you doing!?”

Faintly, you heard Grogu calling out for you, but you couldn’t stop. You knew Grogu was safe with Jaen and Dayen. That was enough comfort to keep you from hesitating in your forward motion. You sprinted down the street, rushing past people, until you could see Peli’s garage. It wasn’t far from the park. A crowd had formed around the outside of it.

“Move!” You barked and pushed through the people. They didn’t move quick enough for your liking so you resorted to shoving them. “Get out of my way!”

When you entered the garage, you could see mechanics standing near the back where something was smoking. You were close enough to hear hysterical sobbing⏤ the voice much too familiar for comfort. When you were kids, Nima had fallen out of a tree and broke her leg. The sound of her scream had been carved into your very being. It was something you’d recognize anywhere.

The mechanics dove out of your way. A land speeder had careened into the all, cratering the brick it slammed into, and Nima’s right arm was pinned somewhere between the metal and rubble. Peli knelt by her side, yelling into a communicator. There was a flash of panic, it mingled with fear, but it didn’t last nearly as long as you thought it would. You snapped into the role of a healer just like you used to.

“Peli, I need your first aid kit. Get the med droid here as well.” You commanded. Peli rushed away and you slid to Nima’s side. You cupped Nima’s face, strained with pain and streaked with tears and oil, in an attempt to get her attention on you. “Nima. Nima, it’s me. I need you to look at me, hon.” Nima’s wide eyes finally landed on you. “There we go.” She called out your name⏤ your real name⏤ and you nodded. “That’s right. I need you to take some deep breaths with me.”

“It⏤It hurts. Maker, I⏤I⏤ It fucking hurts!” Nima sobbed, her ragged breaths worsened.

“I know, I know.” You set your hand on your chest in hopes the weight of your hand would anchor her. “Breathe. Slow breaths. Match mine, hon. Come on.”

Nima was finally able to listen to your commands, and while she continued you let your eyes dart to where her arm disappeared into the mess of metal. She was pinned below the elbow⏤ her right arm twisted and mangled. Magenta colored blood was dripping onto the garage floor under her at an alarming rate.

You glanced around the crowd until your eyes landed on a mechanic wearing a normal belt. “Here! Now!” He jumped in alarm and rushed forward. You pulled your hand away from Nima, she sobbed at the loss of touch, and you ripped the belt off him before shoving him back. “This is gonna hurt. Stay with me. Talk to me.”

As you began to create a tourniquet, Nima screamed bloody murder. You softly reassured her while keeping your hands firm and confident in your movements. You pushed her to start talking again and she began to stumble over her words.

“I messed up⏤ I⏤ I messed up.” Nima gasped. Peli finally arrived with the first aid kit and she reassured you that the droid was on his way. After being repaired, it was the only source of medical care on this rock. Other than you. “I tried⏤ I tried to stop it. I should’ve let go. I should’ve let go. My arm. My arm⏤ My arm⏤”

“Hush, girl!” Peli scolded. “Don’t think about that. Walk me through a strip down of an engine. The Razor Crest’s engine. How’re we gonna fix that? From the top!”

You were thankful for Peli’s intrusion. While she listened to Nima struggle through explaining the mechanical work, you focused on the injury. First things first, you needed to get the bike off her. The longer she was pinned the worse it would be when she was finally released. Her bone and muscle were crushed and it would end up unbalancing the electrolytes in her blood once released.

“Hey, all of you. Grab the bike. Pull on my mark.” You yelled. The mechanics rushed to help and when they seemed to have a solid grip you checked to make sure the tourniquet was firmly in place. Rather than give her warning, you gave the mark for the mechanics to pull back. The land speeder slid out of the wall in a Maker awful sound as the torn metal scratched against the garage floor, but you could barely hear that over Nima’s horrific screams of pain. Her voice was hoarse and raw. You and Peli pulled her away from the pool of blood. As you dragged her, she passed out⏤ her head lolling to her chest. You laid her on her back and examined her arm. It was barely recognizable. Her wrist was bent at an odd angle, fingers all broken, and blood seeped out of her torn flesh and muscle.

The worst sense of realization washed over you.

Nima was going to lose her lower arm if she didn’t get treated right now. You lifted your communicator up to speak into it and noticed then that Nima’s blood was splattered up your own arms. Fingers stained magenta. Ignoring it, you typed in the number for the clinic. Thankfully, the voice you wanted to hear answered.

“Aayla?” You cried.

“Oh, Doc! I just sent the med droid your way. Peli called us. What⏤”

“I need you to get the bacta tank up and running.”

“The bacta⏤ It hasn’t been used in months though.”

“I’ll walk you through resetting it. Get there now.” You said. The sound of her quick, muffled movements filled the air and when she said she was there you began to give her instructions. Maker, when was the last time you worked out the measurements of a bacta tank? As you instructed, you used the tools in the first aid kit to wrap soaked, sterile gauze around her arm to protect the injury. You did the mental math quickly and listed off the numbers for Aayla to use. “Did that work? Describe it to me.”

“Uh, something is happening. The screen says processing and it’s making some kind of whining noise.”

It was working. “Good. I’ll be there soon.”

“Move it!” A familiar voice shouted. You glanced over your shoulder to see Mayfeld approaching with the med droid by his side. His eyes landed on you, then Nima, then back to you in shock. “Soran?? What the kriff is going on?! What happ⏤”

“Later, Mayfeld.” You pushed to stand. “She needs to be at the clinic right now.”

He only hesitated a second more before he grabbed the floating stretcher that the med droid had brought with it. The med droid drifted closer and you could tell he was scanning Nima’s prone body. He chirped out. “Patient’s vitals are stable. However, injury to right lower arm is extensive. Amputation will be necessary.”

“She’s going into a bacta tank. She’ll be fine as long as we get her in it in the next few minutes. Then I can monitor and assess from there.” You argued.

You and Peli bent over to help Mayfeld scoop Nima up and get her onto the stretcher without jostling her too much. The droid hummed in casual disagreement. “I am not authorized to establish or monitor a bacta tank. That is limited to a program beyond myself and⏤”

“I’m a physician! License code 32RJ90012.” You snapped, ignoring the weight of eyes on you. “You listen to me.”

The droid nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Now, let’s go.” You hurried out of the garage as Mayfeld kept pace with you pushing Nima on the stretcher. You were going to save Nima and her arm. There was no room for hesitation, no room for self-doubt, and no room for error.

Din Djarin was going to commit homicide this morning. Already, he was over today after his blunder with you. After you had left with Grogu he had fallen into bed in hopes that he could sleep away his regret and disappointment. Only a few hours had passed when he was awoken by a banging on his front door. It wasn’t that he needed more sleep, he was well acquainted with little to no sleep, it was the principle of the thing. Din didn’t want to be disturbed and whoever was pounding their fist on his door repeatedly was going to be shot and left for dead on his porch.

After pulling on his armor, he stormed to the front of his house and ripped the door open. Greef Karga stood there with a casual look of nonchalance on his features. Karga gave him a smile in greeting and Din reminded himself that it would be a bad look for the Marshal of Nevarro to shoot the High Magistrate dead. If he did, the city might expect him to rise in the ranks and Din would rather die himself than lead this city.

“You’re not allowed to knock on my door anymore, Karga.” Din barked in irritation.

Karga’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mando. You’re in a rather foul mood. Don’t tell me I interrupted you again.” Din’s hand clenched on the door frame. People always assumed he was a patient man when quite the opposite was true. Din was quick to anger, quick to any emotion really, but the beskar he wore acted as a mask he could hide behind and he had grown very, very good at controlling himself. The bad news with that was that people overestimated how far they could push him. Karga swept past him into the house and Din slammed the door shut. Karga scoffed, “Really, Mando. No need to be so cross. I did exactly as you asked and stayed far away from the Doctor Nanny, as promised.”

“Then why the kriff are you here?” Din spat. If Karga had come to bother you about a job again his self-control would shatter to pieces.

“I’m here for business with you, old friend.” Din simply crossed his arms at Karga’s words. The man sighed and pulled a puck from his robe pocket. “We have eyes on Daelar.”

Din caught the puck when it was tossed to him and activated it. “Where is he?”

“Hiding out even further in the Outer Rim, if you can believe in.” Karga replied. “A little out of the way, but I got eyes all over. He didn’t stand a chance.”

Din rolled the idea around in his head. Now that would be quite the way to work out his anger and frustration. Daelar signed his death certificate the moment he abandoned you and Grogu. Maker knows Din had killed for less in the past. A good man would let that rage go. A good man would turn Daelar into the authorities and get his license taken away. A good man wouldn’t commit to murder quite so quickly. But, as it had already been established, he was not a good man.

“What’re you planning on doing to him?” Karga questioned. Din didn’t respond. He had no reason to and the less people knew the better. When the High Magistrate realized he was not going to receive an answer he huffed. “I thought finding this news out would put you in a better mood. Where’s my little buddy? He’ll be happy to see me. He napping?”

“He’s at the park.” Din replied.

Karga’s eyes widened. “You’re off so she should be off as well, shouldn’t she? You do give her time off, don’t you?”

Din had a smartass remark hanging from his lips, but he swallowed it as the thought occurred to him. He always assumed you took care of Grogu on Saturdays as well because of a desire to be with the child, but he had never outright asked you. Most of his days off, all three of you would end up at the park or spending time at home. Had you experienced a proper day off yet? Did you feel obligated to continue caring for Grogu because he hadn’t specified that it wasn’t your responsibility on his days off? Din just enjoyed spending time with you and loved having the two people he cared for most in this galaxy within his reach on his day off. After what happened this morning, Din was drowning in doubt. When you dragged the edge of his helmet back down over his head you might as well have shoved his head underwater.

The ringing of a communicator snapped Din out of the haze he had fallen into and he lifted his vambrace, but it was Karga who was receiving a message. He watched curiously as Karga’s face fell while reading. Din stiffened, “What’s going on?”

“We have to get to the clinic now.” Karga marched for the door and Din didn’t hesitate to follow. “Nima was injured.”

It didn’t take the two of them very long to make it into the clinic and the first person Din spotted was Peli standing by the front desk arguing with the medical tech he had met before. Aayla was her name? Peli slammed a hand down on the front desk’s counter.

“She’s my employee, why can’t I kriffing go and see her!?”

“The patient is currently in a bacta tank and per physician orders⏤”

“I don’t give a damn⏤”

“Peli.” Din called out. The curly haired woman turned around and her face was drawn in lines of frustration and panic. Karga drifted away when he spotted Mayfeld talking to a few mechanics off to the side. “Talk to me.”

Peli shook her head. “Nima basically lost her kriffing arm and this tail head won’t let me through!”

Din held his hands out in a calming motion and nodded his head reassuringly. “I’m sure there’s a reason you can’t go back yet. They’re probably limiting visitors for the time being.” He wondered if you were back there with Nima. Did you know what had happened? Maybe he needed to call you. “I’ll step back⏤”

“The doc said nobody is allowed back yet, Marshal.” Aayla said.

Peli motioned to the Twi’lek as if to say ‘see’, and Din sighed. The older mechanic shoved him all of a sudden and Din was alarmed to be at the receiving end of her anger. “Go tell your nanny to let us back right now or so help me⏤”

“Wait, what?” He blurted.

“Who the kriff do you think is back there right now?? It sure as hell ain’t the med droid!”

You had… Dank farrik. Worry and concern mingled in his chest in an uncomfortable way. Awkwardness born from this morning aside, that didn’t stop how he felt. It didn’t stop him from caring. He remembered how broken you had been after Grogu. He turned back to the desk to see that Aayla had disappeared.

Din shook his head. “What happened??”

“Land speeder malfunctioned. Shot off like a rocket. Nima tried to stop it by grabbing onto the handlebars to hit the brake, but it just dragged her along.” Peli crossed her arms with a frown. “Pinned her to the wall.” Din grimaced. Maker, that was bad. He didn’t spend much time with Nima anymore, he used to see her often when he would go to pick up Grogu from Peli, but he hoped the young mechanic was alright. “Your girl sprinted in out of nowhere and just took charge. She said she was a doctor. That true??”

Din hesitated before coming up with an answer. It wasn’t his place to admit⏤ even if you had already kind of blurted it out. Aayla’s voice chirped out as she returned and she shot him a small smile. “Doc says you can come back, Marshal.”

Peli grumbled under her breath and Din paused long enough to squeeze the woman’s shoulder reassuringly before rushing back. The first room he entered from the doors had been the one Grogu was in when he was here, but now it was empty. Against the back wall, he could see a door cracked open. Din quickly crossed the room and stuck his head into the small space.

Nima was floating in a bacta tank, peaceful and stable, while you sat cross legged on a stool with your forehead leaning against the tank’s glass. At his entrance, you lifted your gaze and he could see your brow creased with worry. Briefly, his anxiety held him back. He couldn’t rid himself of the way you looked at him when you stopped him from lifting his helmet this morning. Din shoved that to the back of his mind. This wasn’t about him. His feelings and desires did not matter a bit right now.

Din shut the door behind him as he drew closer and he dropped to one knee to kneel in beside you. You shifted on the stool so you faced him. He nodded, “How is she?”

“She’s gonna be alright.” You shrugged. “Her lower arm was wrecked, but I think we got her here in time. It’ll be a little while before I see if the bacta tank is going to heal her arm.” You wrung your hands together and Din could see dried flecks of magenta blood against your skin. It was only then that he noticed you had changed out of your clothes into a pair of random scrubs. “I had to set her arm and I did my best, but it was crushed to pieces. I don’t know if it’ll heal right.”

“I’m sure you did fine.” He said softly. Din had the urge to pull you into his arms, offer comfort, but he resisted. Instead, he wrapped his hands around the bar between the stool’s legs by your feet.

“How did you know to come?”

“Karga paid me a visit. Mayfeld must have called him to notify him about the injury.”

“Oh.”

Din briefly glanced around, “Where is⏤”

“Jaen and Dayen have Grogu. He was playing at the park with Elodie when…” Your voice trailed off as you swallowed hard. Din recognized those names and knew his son was in good hands for the time being. You shrugged. “I already called them and they said they’d bring him here after getting the kids lunch.”

Din’s fists tightened around the stool. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din pressed. The name felt right. Even if you wanted nothing to do with him it didn’t alter the change you made to his heart. You had taken it, like a thief in the night, and no circumstance would ever bring Din to try and take that back. It belonged to you⏤ It would always belong to you.

You rubbed your face and forced a smile. “I’m really not that bad. Not like last time. I’m worried about Nima because I love her, but…” You sighed. “If I hadn’t been there. It would’ve been awful. The med droid can’t operate a bacta tank.” Din nodded but didn’t speak. He could see you had more to say. “I didn’t even think of Soran while I…”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Din asked.

“Yeah. It made me remember why I went into medicine in the first place. I wanted to save people. Make a difference in the world around me.” You said. Din held back the words that came to mind. You already made a difference in the world. Your existence alone bettered the world around you⏤ bettered the lives of the people you knew. “I realized something else too.” Din waited. Your hand lifted to rub the scar over your collarbone. “I come up with all these excuses to try and avoid the real problem. I don’t want to face my fear alone so I surrounded myself in dozens of different problems as a distraction to myself. I was never running from Medicine. I was never running from myself, Din.”

“What were you running from, ner kar’ta?” His question came out in a soft whisper.

For a moment, the only sound came from the bubbling of the bacta tank. You wrung your hands once more, nervously, and Din had to once again resist the urge to tangle his fingers with yours. Give you something to hold onto. “Kurt. I was running from Kurt.” He knew the name. In your file, the name of the man who brought you to court to try and take away your license had been Kurt. Din made the connection when your hand lifted again to touch the scar. “He tried to kill me.”

If Din thought he had been angry before, he was wrong. He could feel his blood boiling within his beskar armor. The thought of someone even laying their hands on you filled him with more rage than he should be allowed to feel, but the fact that there was a person out in the galaxy who had actively tried to kill you⏤ to take you out of this world⏤ made his teeth clench. His back molars threatened to crack with how tense his jaw had grown.

“You don’t have to be angry about it.” You murmured. People always confused his measured anger for patience, but not you. You always seemed to know how he felt under the helmet regardless of how quiet he kept himself. “He’s on trial right now for it. I don’t know the details. Nima actually knows more because I don’t like keeping up with it and she says someone has to.” You shrugged. “When he was… hurting me,” Din sucked in a sharp breath to try and maintain some semblance of control, “He said all this terrible stuff. How it was my fault, and I deserved to die because of it. He was the reason I blamed myself for so long. I think a part of me still does.”

“That wasn’t⏤”

“I know.” You chuckled. “I’m doing so much better since we spoke, you did so much for me, but some days are better than others. I think it’ll always be that way. One day I’ll wake up and I‘ll understand it was out of my hands, and on some other day I’ll wake up and blame myself. I don’t think there’s a cure for that.”

Despite talking about your pained past, you wore a small smile on your face and Din had never felt such pride at seeing a smile. Maker, you were strong. You were his heart, and you were so kriffing strong. He wanted to put it into words and express that to you, but he didn’t know how. Dank farrik. Din relied so much on action and not being able to touch you, reassure you, share his pride in you, left him feeling like he had lost one of his senses entirely.

“And, Din, about this morning,” Your smile faltered and Din stiffened, “I’m so sorry⏤”

“No. Don’t.” Din blurted and shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. I do. I shouldn’t have pressured you into anything⏤ I should have asked before⏤”

You reached out and set a hand on his shoulder, close to his neck, and he could feel the weight of you through his cloak and flight suit. “Din, you did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. I panicked because…” You squeezed his shoulder. “I did the same thing again. Came up with a bunch of issues and doubts because I was scared to admit what the real problem was.” Din’s mouth grew dry and it felt like his heart was going to literally beat out of his chest. He didn’t know where this was going, he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, but the flicker of hope was a dangerous thing. Din didn’t think he’d survive extinguishing twice. Finally, you spoke, “I’m scared⏤ terrified⏤ that I’ll become a burden and disappointment to you.”

Din blinked in shock. Of all the words that existed in Basic that you could string together, he never expected that sentence. A burden? A disappointment?? Never. You could never be either. He was at a loss for words. How could he show you how he felt? How could he make you understand what you meant to him?

“I know right now you consider yourself an Apostate.” You said. He noticed the way you stressed the word ‘you’. As if trying to make it clear that it was not the same belief you held. “So, maybe it makes showing your face easier, but I⏤ I don’t want to push you further from your Creed. I know how much it means to you, how important it is, and I would hate myself if I became a barrier between you and it.”

“Ner kar’ta⏤”

“And what if we drift apart? I’d just be the woman who took advantage of a moment⏤ who accepted something that I wasn’t sure you were even ready to give.”

Din shook his head. “That isn’t the case. I am ready. I⏤ I care for you.” Maker, why was it so hard to speak? “This wouldn’t become something I regret. You could never be something I regret.”

You startled him by sliding off the stool forcing his hands away from the bar. You knelt in front of him and lifted your hands up to his neck. Your thumb brushed against the skin right under his helmet where his shirt didn’t quite reach. Din sucked in a breath at the contact. It meant more because it was you who initiated it.

“Your face isn’t a factor in what I think of you.” You said firmly. “What you look like under there, it will never change how I see you. I already know the kind of man you are. When I⏤ If I get to see your face…” Din noticed the slip up. The eventuality. He almost wanted to correct you. There was no ‘if’ about this. “I don’t want it to go against your Creed. I don’t want it to be a sin that requires redeeming.”

If Din wasn’t being held up by his heavy, beskar armor he was sure he would’ve melted into your arms. For the first time in a long time, he was relieved he wore a helmet because he didn’t want you to see the way his eyes began to water. Din always assumed that unless he found someone within the covert, he would have to choose between love and his Creed. He had resolved himself to that fact and understood that meant he might never have love.

Meeting you was the first time since Grogu that he was willing to show his face. You were, without a doubt, the first woman he had met who tempted him to cast aside his Creed⏤ a feat he didn’t think would ever be possible. Once he fell into your orbit, he was caught and there was nothing that would pull him away from you. Din was sure even you weren’t aware of the power you held over him. He would go to war with his bare hands if you commanded it. He would cross the galaxy ten times over if it meant bringing you any shred of happiness. But, instead of making him choose a part of himself, you accepted every bit of him. You understood the respect he had for his Creed and you would not force him to walk away from it. More than just that, you stopped him from making the decision he thought he had to make. You made him realize that he shouldn’t have to sacrifice a part of himself to deserve love.

“Can I touch you, ner kar’ta?” Din asked in a voice too quiet and hoarse for his liking.

“You never have to ask, Din.” You replied.

Din collapsed into you. He pressed his head against your chest and wrapped his arms around you. When your own arms came to cradle him, your chin resting on the top of his helmet, Din let out a shuddering breath. Your hand held the back of his neck, finding that small sliver of skin once more, and he felt your fingers brush against the hair that sat at the nape of his neck. Din could’ve stayed like this forever, but too soon you began to pull away.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked. “It’ll be an hour or so until I’m able to see what direction Nima’s condition is moving in, and I don’t want to leave her side.”

Din’s throat was still tight, unshed tears lining his lashes, and he didn’t trust his voice. He dragged himself a few feet away to lean against the wall and held a hand out to you. He could see your shoulders sag in relief, an invisible weight being lifted, and you crawled toward him. Rather than settling next to him, you placed yourself between his legs and leaned back against his chest. You lightly grasped his arms to pull around you in a hold and you didn’t need to tell him to keep his grip there. Din squeezed around your waist while you held onto his arm. Your fingers tracing the lines of his vambrace. A comfortable silence surrounded the both of you and Din took in a steadying breath.

This wasn’t a crush or infatuation. This was something special. A part of him always knew, but he had never felt more confirmation of that then he did right now. This was unique and he had to do this the right way. Din wanted to do right by you, provide for you, and in order to properly court you like a Mandalorian should he’d need to find his Creed once more.

Din needed to find redemption.

He needed to go to Mandalore.

mando’a translations

Epar : Eat Buir : Father Parjii : Winner Tsikador : get ready Ad’ika: little one Ner kar’ta : my heart

A/N: This is the first chapter that feels like a real chapter to me. I love all the other ones, don’t get me wrong, but if you know me from AO3 at all you know I like to pick a theme and then explore that theme in a single chapter which makes my chapters unusually long. I got to do that with this one and it makes me so so happy. Hopefully it made y’all happy too🥰

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #female reader #reader insert #angst #then comfort #then some more angst #domestic bliss!Din Djarin #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #smut #just a sprinkle #sort of

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