𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞'𝐬𝐞 - 𝘥𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯

Bring Me Home

bring me home • gn!mandalorian!reader
You reunite with your Mandalorian lover after a long separation and realize much has changed since you last him.

—§—

If there's one thing about Din Djarin that hasn't changed, it's his ability to stay hidden. But neither has your ability to be one of the greatest trackers in the galaxy. As he stands just a few meters in front of you now, you realize that not much has changed after all—at least, on the surface.

Din's wrapping up a purchase from a vendor in this washed-up marketplace. You revel in the sight of him; it's been many months since he last left Nevarro. If you're being honest, you've lost track of just how much time has passed. Din's armor is somehow just as pristine as it was the day it was forged and you wonder if it still feels just as smooth against your skin now as it did then. You could only touch it with an ungloved hand, but Din had promised you much more before he left.

You release a deep breath of composure as your half-gloved hands run along the material of your hood. Your poncho hides what remains of your armor: your vambraces, pauldrons, and rifle strap. Charges from Din's weapon sit idly within it, left untouched in his absence. Everything else had been left behind on Nevarro, including your helmet. Approaching Din without it is a risk.

But you didn't come all the way out here to not take it.

Din nods at the vendor in gratitude and turns away. He hands some kind of food to a brown satchel hanging from his side that squirms underneath his cape. It's hidden from view as Din makes long strides away from the marketplace. With another sigh, you prepare to follow him.

You only get a few meters in when Din tenses, his steps slowing as his gloved hand flexes over his holster. Your heart thuds in your throat as you fight to keep your hands away from your own weapons. His helmet starts to turn over his shoulder as if he's looking for you through his peripherals. You step forward.

"Din," you call for him, willing your voice to remain firm rather than shaky even as your hands tremble.

The Mandalorian freezes at the sound of his own name. You almost think he has you figured out already, but a quick draw of his blaster that he points towards you tells you otherwise. "Who are you?" His modulated voice alone brings you a feeling of relief like no other, even amidst its hostility.

You hold your breath and pull your hood down, revealing your face to him for the first time. "You know who I am."

Din tilts his helmet and flexes his gloved finger on the trigger. His visor gives you a once-over and his cuirass stalls when he notices your armor. "You're a looter." There's a new emotional strain to his voice as he shifts his weight between his feet. You recognize the nervous gesture of his. "One who's breaking the Mandalorian Creed."

"I'm not a looter, Din." You take another step closer to him, remaining cautious as his barrel continues to stare you down. "You know who I am."

Din's helmet straightens. The subtle shaking of his blaster tells you that your words are beginning to get through to him. "That's impossible." His disbelief causes his vocoder to crackle. "I saw their helmet in the tunnels. It was broken. They're... gone." The words are forced through his throat as if they pain him.

The information stings you as your expression softens. "You went back to Nevarro?"

"I had to." The gloved hand at Din's side flexes before covering the brown satchel. He gives his helmeted head a shake. "But I was too late."

"No you weren't, cyare." You offer a smile through tearful eyes as you utter the nickname—his nickname. "I'm here."

Din slowly starts to lower his blaster. "Cyar'ika?" He asks in a whisper. Your smile widens as you take one more careful step towards him. "How...?"