Work Text:
This planet is supposed to be your shelter, your safe place. You and Din had decided that you needed somewhere to hide out for a while, to lay low with the child so you could form a better plan—or at least see how long you could make it without having to deal with another bounty hunter.
Instead, it’s quickly become your new torture chamber.
It shouldn’t be this way. You shouldn’t be isolating yourself inside the hut these villagers kindly offered to the both of you, thinking only of what could be going on outside of it. And you definitely shouldn’t be wishing that Din would be inside with you, holding you until all of your anxieties melt away. That’s just not how things are supposed to work. You’re bounty hunters, and he’s one with a restrictive Creed—one who’s more entitled than anyone to pick and choose his own affections.
It all began with the child. You first saw the Mandalorian when he and a bounty droid were taking out an entire group of people, who for some reason had this bounty you were seeking enclosed inside a storehouse. You helped them finish the work and ended up making a deal with them to split a third of the reward. That changed, however, when you laid your eyes upon the bounty—the child. Neither you nor Din had the faith to kill it, but the droid wanted to, and it ended up dead at Din’s hand when it attempted to. You decided you’d bring it back alive for half the reward, and that’s when the true journey began.
You were there when the Razor Crest was being plundered by Jawas. You were there when Din tried to fight and ended up sprawled out on a rock after falling from their crawling fortress. And Din was there when you’d retreated to your ship, only to find out that it’d been picked at by some scavengers, where you wouldn’t have the slightest chance at getting your parts back. After Din brought you to his Ugnaught acquaintance, you waited agonizingly as he fought a mudhorn, and you helped him tend to his wounds after the gruesome fight. By the time you were up and running in the Razor Crest, you were an established member of his crew, a new partner in his bounty hunting endeavors.
Which, evidently, didn’t last long.
You both were swallowed up by too much guilt to let the kid sit in that Imperial safehouse for longer than a few hours. You’d let Din take the entire reward to replace his armor—you would’ve felt sick if you’d taken any of it, and he needed it more than you did—and then before you knew it, you’d both broken into the safehouse and gotten the child back to the Crest, with the aid of the other Mandalorians.
Ever since, you’ve been planet jumping for supplies and for quick walks, trying to keep yourselves sane as you decide where the hell you’re supposed to go from here. You’ve had a few close calls on some planets, having to take out a bounty hunter or two, and those experiences alone have taught you both that you need somewhere safe to hide out on.
That’s where Sorgan came in. Din found the planet on his map, and he told you all about how isolated it was—a perfect place for the three of you to go. You’d landed with optimism, just to have it diminished by your surprise meeting with Cara Dune. Thankfully, just as you were preparing to leave, you were approached by the farmers who requested your help taking out a group of raiders in exchange for lodging. You took Cara with you as you journeyed to their quaint little village, where you are now.
Somewhere along the way, you managed to develop feelings for Din—strong ones.
You tried to blame him more so than yourself. He’s evidently been starved of any kind of companionship for a long time, and as soon as he knew he could trust you, he stuck to you like a magnet. You were surprised the day he told you about his past, even going as far as disclosing his real name to you. Your past wasn’t ever as difficult as his, so you were extremely surprised that he’d told you so much. It was inevitable then that you’d grow close, very close, and thus your heart started to beat to his rhythm as that attachment only grew.
You would’ve been confident in saying that those feelings were reciprocated until you got to this damn village.
As soon as you saw her that day, you felt your heart sink. The wagon had rolled in at daylight, and after you, Cara, and Din had started offloading your belongings, your host had approached you with a warm smile and glowing, brown eyes. She was beautiful, and you hated the fact that it made you angry. What you hated more was the way Din’s visor lingered in her direction just a bit more than it would for anyone else, you included. You’d never felt a pain so deep in your chest before. Din was evidently entranced by her—by Omera, easily one of the most beautiful and graceful women you’ve ever seen before in the galaxy.
You don’t stand a chance.
You chuckle lamely to yourself as you look down at the knife you’re cleaning. The metal of the blade has long since been perfectly shined, but it’s easier to continue wiping the surface instead of having to stop and focus on your thoughts, or stand outside and watch as Din looks endlessly and no doubt longingly at Omera. Cara’s likely coming up with a plan as she talks to Din, who’s probably half listening as he fantasizes about the villager.
Okay, I’m really being dramatic now, you think to yourself. Din’s never been one to get so distracted in the face of action.
Your thoughts are cut short, however, by the small laugh you hear from just outside the hut. You look up from where you’ve been sitting on your cot, seeing the shadows of two figures nearby. Standing up quietly, you trot over to the doorway, leaning your back against one side of the wall as you snake your head around to see what’s going on.
Your heart drops into your stomach as you spot Din standing close to Omera, who’s holding a tray of food for him. You bite your lip as you watch them interact, still too far away to hear what they’re saying. Your ears strain to hear something, but you still can’t, and you curse mentally to yourself. You feel ridiculous for being so attentive to their conversation, for watching Din like a hawk hunting its prey, but your heart has come to be in charge of your actions. Your conscious has long since been drowned in the overwhelming need to be loved by the man whose body and heart are enclosed in cold, hard beskar.
The mistake is made when you watch Omera’s lips curl up into smile, and she soon breaks out into soft laughter. Upon her expression of amusement, the tray in her hand rocks a bit, and Din’s gloved hand reaches out to steady her arm. You whimper audibly at the sight—not realizing just how loud you’d been until you see Din’s helmet snap towards the hut. You duck back around the door, cursing as you try to think quickly. Looking down at the knife and cloth still in your hands, you suck in a breath and swipe the tip of the knife over part of your palm, leaving a trail of blood in its place. Din’s footsteps are soon heard approaching the hut, and he looks in worriedly to see you standing there with the knife and a bloody hand.
“Y/N, are you alright?” Din’s modulated voice is full of concern, and you hate the way your heart melts at the attention he gives you—especially when he walks over and studies the blood on your hand.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure him, giving him a small smile as you hold the cloth against your bleeding palm. “Just slipped while cleaning my knife. Sorry I scared you.”
Din reaches forward gently, pushing the cloth out of the way as he takes your hand in both of his. You feel your heart skip at least a dozen times as he observes the scratch closely, looking over at you with a concerned tilt to his helmet. “Get something on that, quickly.” The words are uttered in a gentle tone, and you give him a nod as you try to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “Let me know if you need any help with it.”
Din turns back around to leave the hut again, and you step forward to head towards your med kit and wrap up your bleeding hand. The pain from the small flesh wound is nothing compared to the agony of your heart as you remember the scene you just witnessed. Your only solace and source of healing is the way Din just touched your hand and showed you a small shred of evidence that he cared for you—at least, in a companion type of way. It’s a straw you can grasp at for the time being, something to dwell on as your heart slowly starts to crumble inside your chest at each fleeting moment Din and Omera share.
You’ve just finished securing a cloth around your hand when Din comes back inside the hut. He’s holding the tray of food Omera had been holding before, and he sets it on his cot as he sits across from you. “She fixed us something to eat,” Din tells you, his visor not leaving you as he speaks. “Did you want to eat before me?”
You shake your head, the churning in your stomach hating the idea of forcing something down your throat. “No thanks, Din,” you remark, trying not to make your remorse so obvious as you begin to stand up. “I’m not hungry, actually. You can have my serving.” You turn and start to walk out before Din can protest, unable to fathom the thought of putting anything that’d been on that tray inside your body. The memory of what’d happened with it is enough to keep you fueled in a different kind of way as you seek out Cara to distract you.
The next day, the training begins. You’ve discovered that it’s going to take more than just you, Din, and Cara to rid of this group of raiders—because they’ve got an AT-ST on their side. Cara denied being able to do anything, but Din proposed that you train the villagers, and so you’re helping him with the shooters as Cara handles the others. Of course, amid all of this, you have to witness even more of Din and Omera’s unspoken affair, because she’s the only one who knows how to shoot.
Of course.
Thus, the torture continues. It’s bad enough that even while you’re showing one of the farmers how to hold their blaster, you find your eyes drifting over to Din, just to see Omera at his side assisting the farmers he’s working with. You have to grit your teeth to keep yourself from visually showing the utter frustration and heartbreak you feel inside, wondering if Din realizes just how violently he’s tearing apart every single vein of your heart. When you force yourself to stay focused on your work and the people you’re training, it helps you to calm down, but the effort’s all in vain the moment the shooters begin to fire at their targets.
No one can hit them. You heave out a sigh from your end of the line, shaking your head as you realize just how much more work it’ll take. They continue going down the line, getting closer and closer to Din’s end, where Omera stands. When she begins to fire, she doesn’t miss a single shot—but you’re not watching the target any longer. Your eyes are on Din, who’s looking at Omera as if she’s the only person in the entire village. His visor stares at her much longer than it should, and when she turns her head towards him with a sheepish smile, he gives her a nod of approval before finally looking away.
And, Maker, if only he knew how long you’ve been waiting for him to look at you like that.
The rest of the day passes painfully. You’ve barely eaten a morsel—something you hope Din hasn’t noticed, since you don’t want him questioning—and by the evening, you find yourself as drained as ever while you, Din, and Cara sit around a fire just outside of your huts. Din and Cara have been discussing strategy, and you’ve chimed in every once in a while, trying to be genuinely helpful while also not wanting to look suspiciously out-of-it. Your conversation is interrupted, however, by cautious footsteps approaching, and you all turn your heads to see Omera stepping forward with the child in her arms.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” her kind voice says softly, “but he fell asleep in our hut with Winta. I thought you might’ve been looking for him.” Her words are directed towards Din, and you try not to study the way he’s glancing at her so attentively.
“Oh, thank you—very much,” Din responds. He hesitates for a moment, his helmet tilting as he looks at Omera and the child more. “You’re… very good with him.”
You bite your lip as that familiar pain begins to grow inside your chest, spreading like venom to the rest of your body. You’ve always yearned to hear those words from him.
“He’s a sweetheart,” Omera insists, giving one of the child’s long ears a gentle stroke.
“Would you like to join us?” Din asks, rising slowly from the log he’s been perched on. “We’ve been talking strategy, which I figured you might want to hear.”
“Yes, of course,” Omera agrees, offering a small smile as she walks around the log to sit beside Din. He reaches out a gloved hand to take her free one and help her sit while the child’s still resting peacefully in her other arm. Din then sits back beside her, his helmet watching intently as she rocks the sleeping child a few times.
They look like the family you’ve always wanted to have with him.
You’re biting your lip so hard now that you’re sure it’s bleeding, and the fire’s becoming blurry before you. Trying your best to keep your emotions tucked away, you end up sniffling audibly, and your curse mentally as you realize how loud it’d been.
“You okay, Y/N?” Cara asks from beside you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. You look over from the where you’d tried staring into the fire to see her, Din, and Omera all giving you concerned glances.
You play them off with a small smile. “I’m alright, just a little cold, that’s all.” You let out a sigh, standing up from the log as your wrap your arms around yourself. “I think I’ll head back into the hut for the night.”
You turn and begin to walk back to the hut, telling yourself over and over not to break down until you’re safe inside the hut, but you’re stopped when a gloved hand reaches for your shoulder.
“Y/N, wait,” Din’s modulated voice pleads, and you stop in your tracks as you turn to face him. Din’s helmet tilts down at you, and you absorb the small moment that you know you’ll be able to fabricate into something affectionate later to glue back the pieces of your crumbled heart. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting… different. You haven’t been eating, you’ve barely been talking, and now you’re sniffling. Are you sick?”
Sick is one way to put it, you think to yourself. Lovesick. “I’m fine, Din, I promise.”
Din doesn’t move, yet you can somehow feel that he’s looking at you even more intensely now. You shift a bit under his gaze. “I hope you’re telling the truth,” he finally responds. “I hate seeing you like this.”
And I hate seeing you with her. “I am. And I’m sorry, I’ll try to shape up. I guess I’m just not used to the whole ‘settling in’ thing yet.” You try to give him a quick smile before you turn back around and close the distance to the hut—quickly. Almost as soon as you’re safe inside and sitting on your cot, certain that Din’s gone back out to sit next to the woman of his dreams, you let your face fall into your hands.
You still painfully try to swallow back the sobs that have welled up in your throat, a grand showcase of the emotions that have been building up ever since you first laid eyes on the beautiful villager who captured Din’s affections, because you know that it’s your fault you’re feeling this way. Din has never been obligated to give you anything more than he already has; you agreed upon companionship, not anything more than that. If you’ve thought he felt a different way, then that’s your mistake. You have no one to blame but yourself.
But, oh, how nice would it be if you were the one out there, sitting beside Din as you rocked the child in your arms? Having him look at you as if you’re the only person in the galaxy? Maybe even causing him to picture a life without bounty hunting, spent alone in your own settlement, starting your own family of just the three of you or more? You think back to those nights spent floating on the Crest when Din would sit and just talk with you. Whenever you were saying something, he’d made you feel so valued—but that’s just because he’s a good listener. You wanted to think it was more, but evidently you were wrong. True affection from Din is whatever he’s been doing with Omera, and it’s so painful for you to witness it happening to someone else.
He’s all you’ve ever wanted. And you can’t have him.
How dare you fall in love with a Mandalorian.
You fall asleep that night only when you’ve been exhausted by your silent tears, never hearing when Din and the child enter the hut. That becomes a nighttime ritual, even after the raiders are taken care of. Over those next few weeks, the torture gets worse and worse—constantly witnessing Din and Omera either walking around the farm together, or sharing a brief conversation outside the hut, or him helping when he sees her carrying a basket that’s just a bit heavier than comfortable for her. Meanwhile, you stick close to Cara and the child, unable to let yourself get hurt so badly. At this point, you can’t decide what’s ripping you apart more: watching Din fall in love with someone else or having to separate yourself from the one person you’d let yourself get close to in the entire galaxy.
Your breaking point arrives the same day a bounty hunter finally shows up. You’d been supervising the child as it played with his friends, including Winta, when your gaze drifted up and noticed Din catching Omera’s attention. He’d gestured to pull her aside for a moment, and you watched with a grimace as they walked over to a place where they could talk in private. You were evidently much too far away to pick up anything they were saying, but you didn’t need to know what they were talking about when you saw Omera’s hands reach up to Din’s helmet, as if she was taking it off.
Your jaw had almost dropped to the ground. He’s going to let her break his Creed. That’s how much he loves her.
And that’s when your heart truly crumbled into worthless rubble, sitting heavily in your chest. You had to peel your eyes away as you looked back at the child, seeing nothing but a blurry green dot thanks to the tears that’d gathered so quickly in your waterline. It felt like every last chance you had at redirecting Din’s affections towards you had failed. You knew how important Din’s Creed was to him, and if he was letting Omera do something as dramatic as taking off his helmet, then it wouldn’t be worth fighting the kind of feelings he’d grown towards her.
You’d only stopped your pity party when you heard the blaster shot that echoed loudly from the nearby trees, and you’d instantly grabbed your blaster as you took the child protectively into your arms. You looked over and saw Din taking off in the direction of the forest—his helmet still secure on his head—and so you decided to stay with the child. You kept your blaster drawn just in case, almost jumping out of your skin when Omera approached in a flurry.
“He told me to check on the kids,” Omera had told you in a frantic tone. “They’re alright?”
“They’re fine,” you’d assured her, giving her a nod. “Did he go check to see what it was?”
Omera nodded, looking in worry back at the trees. “I hope everything’s alright.”
You had looked in that direction too, wishing you could go after him—but knowing he’d want you to stay with the child. “Me too.”
But you had that aching feeling in the back of your mind: it’d been an attempt on the kid. You were sure that a bounty hunter had finally found you, and that meant you’d have to leave. You’d have to pretend your heart wasn’t torn apart from every vein inside your chest, and Din would have to pretend that his wasn’t broken at having to be away from his true love.
And you didn’t want to see him in pain.
Now, you’ve decided that you’re going to offer to stay on the run with the child, so that Din can stay with Omera and have the life he’s always wanted. As badly as you’re hurting, you still love him, and you don’t want to see him hurting. He deserves to be happy, and if that’s what he’ll get from remaining in Sorgan, then you’re more than happy to make it happen. You’ve just finished getting all your things together when you hear Din enter the hut, and you spin around to see him looking at you curiously.
“Y/N, what are you doing?” Din’s modulated voice is quizzical. “Omera told me you had the kid safe in here. Did you already hear that we have to leave?”
“You don’t have to leave, Din.” You say the words in a softer tone than you thought you’d be able to. You finally turn around from where you’ve been packing up your last box, seeing Din standing still just a few steps away from you. “I know you don’t want to.”
Din’s helmet tilts in confusion, and the rest of his body remains frozen. “What do you mean?”
You let out a sigh, biting the corner of your lip as you attempt to keep your emotions in check. “I know you want to stay. With her.”
Din turns around for a moment to look at the empty doorway of the hut, and then turns back to face you again. “Omera?”
You give him a nod. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you spend so much time with her. I know you care about her—a lot. You deserve to stay here with her, to give up this exhausting lifestyle of ours and have a family of your own.” You swallow hard, hoping your struggle isn’t obvious as you force yourself to continue looking into his visor. “I want that for you. I’ll take the child and protect him. You won’t have to worry about him anymore. You can just enjoy your life here.”
Din still doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything in response. You stand there nervously, anticipating the moment when he thanks you graciously and asks that you stay in touch with him somehow to see how the kid’s doing. But when he speaks, it’s not what you expect. “That’s… that’s not what I want, Y/N.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Din, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you must care. And I saw her almost take your helmet off earlier, before we heard that shot. You—.”
“If this is the impression you got with all of my interactions with Omera, then I’ve been doing a terrible job at what I’ve been trying to accomplish.” Din cuts you off with those words, and he lets out a short chuckle before he starts to approach you more closely. “How could I possibly stay here without you, Y/N?” Your mouth falls open slightly at his words, and he takes that as a cue to continue. “I haven’t been talking with Omera because I have feelings for her. I… I was confiding in her.”
It’s your turn to look at him in confusion. “Confide in her? For what?”
“For… things.” Din pauses, taking another step closer to you. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that in just a few more steps, the beskar covering his chest would be touching yours. “Things I didn’t know how to say to you just yet. I needed to know how I could take care of you. How I could provide for you—and the kid. I asked her how…” Din pauses again, and you notice his gloved fingers starting to play with each other in a nervous manner. “… how I could tell you how I feel.”
Your heart’s beating incredibly fast, and you’re surprised you even have enough air in your lungs to utter your next question. “How you feel about what?”
Din looks at you seriously. “How I feel about you.” You’re sure now that your heart’s leaped back up from the pile of rubble right into your very throat, nearly choking you as Din takes another step so that he’s standing right above you. One of his gloved hands rises slowly until it meets the side of your face, and all you can do is stare in awe as his helmet looks down at you. “I… love you, Y/N.”
You’re so shocked that you can’t produce the words you’re screaming inside your head. Once you get the air back in your lungs, you manage to get something out. “You love me?”
Din offers you a nod, and his thumb brushes over your cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in the sweet feeling of relief it brings you. “I don’t love her, Y/N. I love you. It’s always been you. I just… needed help getting the faith to tell you.” You hear Din take a deep breath. “And I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I’ve seen you grow distant while we’ve been here, and it really hurt me to see you drift off like that—and not being able to help you. I hope I haven’t done anything you drive you away from me.”
You finally give him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over his that’s still on your face. “No, Din, you didn’t. I was acting like that because I thought you were in love with her.” You let out a small laugh when Din releases a breath of relief. “And don’t be ridiculous. Of course I feel the same way.” You begin to reach your hands up towards his helmet, taking a hold on it and bringing it down until your forehead touches it—in just the way Din had once told you it would in a Mandalorian kiss. “I love you, too.”
Din’s hand leaves your face as his arms pull you closer to him, until you’re flush against the beskar that covers his body, and that’s when you finally feel all your pain dissipate. You’re amazed at the way he’s managed to pull your heart back together even more quickly than the way he’d ripped it apart before—and you’re more than happy to realize that you have been the one he’s chosen all along.