Every summer you work on your father's strawberry farm with your three sisters. It's a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the Midwest are hot and they linger. This year, your father's old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on y...
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The moment Din Djarin laid eyes on you he knew he was a dead man.
At first, his view of you had been obstructed because you'd opened every door and window in the house. June in the Midwest sometimes required such nuisances, so all of the curtains billowing in the breeze prevented him from looking upon you.
You were also on the couch, but he hadn't known that until you lifted a hand - soft as a dove's - from the back of the sofa. You played with the light between your fingers, shielding its dazzling rays from your eyes, just before setting it down again. Your hands were so small (smaller than his anyway) and gentle. He imagined how foreign your skin would feel in warm contrast to his; how your fingers would feel intertwined with his calloused ones, which had done enough work throughout the years to be mistaken for a beggar's. Within the first moment, he saw you as flawless.
Your father had not stopped for breath since din arrived, lamenting about the farm or discussing the layout of the home with an eagerness din had yet to match. He would've initially been interested in the history of the farm or how many sprawling acres rolled endlessly before them, but his eyes couldn't leave your hand.
You must've been asleep - napping in the embrace of the sun - because as soon as your father drew breath upon entering the living room, your voice tickled din's ears for the first time. Sweet as music.
"Dad? Is that you?"
Din couldn't help but blink at the sound of your voice. it seemed unnatural, like one hears in dreams or spiritual awakenings. He manages to compose himself at your father's side, straightening his posture to err on the side of caution.
Your father exclaims with a joyful "ah!" and then introduces you by name.
"My daughter. One of them, anyway. She and the three eldest help during the summer," he had said, and then turned to the bay windows to go on about the view.
But you meet din's eyes, rested and glimmering with curiosity, while your father droned on in the background. You reach out a hand - the one he'd thought of holding - to shake.
He does. And it's every bit as beautiful as he knew it'd be.
"How do you do?" you give him a polite and pretty smile. If he hadn't known any better, you bat your eyelashes for good measure.
Your father's tour continues but din can't stop thinking about the way your skirt rose to your thighs as you stretched awake.
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You were lying if you said you didn't think about him for the rest of the day.
You weren't the only one. your sisters - all three of them - had also met the mysterious Din Djarin.
"Who is he?" Charlotte asked while you congregated at the nearby pond. It was a lovely place, nestled within the thick of the woods and bursting with greenery. Flowers of every kind blossomed around you and scents the air with a sweetness.
