#( locations ) gar darasuum.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-One)

Summary: (Y/N), Din and Grogu pay the Mandalorian’s old covert a visit before journeying to Nevarro and meeting an old friend of theirs to ask for a favor.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Now that Season 3 is over and we’re all in need of a little comfort, it’s time once again to catch up with Din, Alor’ad and Grogu’s adventures! Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-One The Apostate (Previous Chapter)

While the swirling lights of hyperspace surrounded the gunmetal-silver Naboo N-1 Starfighter, (Y/N) continued on with her stitching and hummed an old lullaby from her homeworld to herself, mindful of her two companions still fast asleep. One of the many similarities that Din and Grogu shared was their ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere, a skill that (Y/N) couldn’t help but envy them for; even during her days as a smuggler, she found it challenging to get any sort of decent sleep while traveling in hyperspace. I guess there’s one thing that bounty hunters do better than smugglers, she thought with a small wry smile.

Right on cue, her husband’s arms tightened around her waist and he let out a deep yawn as he shifted in his seat behind her. “G’mornin’, alor’ad. You get any sleep?” When she didn’t answer, he heaved a sigh and brought a gloved hand up to gently coax her into looking at him. “You’ve gotta try to start getting more sleep, (Y/N); you haven’t been sleeping much since we left Naboo and it’s beginning to worry me a little.”

“I know, sweetheart. I think I just got so used to living a quiet life that returning to all this was…I guess it was a little jarring.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the cockpit of the starfighter; as their blissful honeymoon on Naboo came to an end, Din confided in her that he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the Mandalorian covert who’d taken him in as an orphaned child and while she supported his decision, it was no secret that she didn’t believe he needed to be redeemed for anything. In her eyes, he was a Mandalorian through and through and nothing the Children of the Watch said could ever change that, but over time he felt differently. They searched for proof that Mandalore hadn’t been entirely destroyed during the Purge and once they found what they needed from a Jawa trader, they set out to locate Din’s covert and show the Armorer that his redemption was possible. Din knew how she felt about their new quest and conversely, she knew that he felt guilty for shattering the brief moment of peace they’d found on Naboo to achieve his redemption.

Setting down her stitching, (Y/N) turned her head as best she could and gave her husband a relenting smile. “When we leave your covert and start our journey to Nevarro, I promise I’ll get some sleep.” She reached up and lifted the edge of his beskar helmet far enough to press a soft kiss onto his lips, smiling as he relaxed in his seat and instantly kissed her back. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad,” Din murmured against her lips, giving her one final kiss before pulling his helmet back down over his face. “So, what’ve you been working on?”

“It’s a knapsack for Grogu. He’s got more robes than he’ll ever be able to wear, so I thought that a matching knapsack would be nice…just as long as he doesn’t start using it to store bugs and other little critters he wants to eat.” The starfighter dropped out of hyperspace before the innocuous-looking planet, and (Y/N) arched a skeptical brow. “This isn’t exactly the sort of planet I’d choose to grow a covert on; it’s mostly barren.”

“I suppose they’re just grateful to be anywhere that provides privacy.” The Mandalorian took the controls and piloted the starfighter down into the planet’s upper atmosphere; while they flew through the pale blue skies over the rocky terrain, Grogu began to stir in his domed compartment but before either of them could address the child, they were met with a concerning sight. “Um, I don’t think this planet’s as barren as you thought it was…”

In the distance, an enormous long-toothed reptilian was attacking a gathering of Mandalorians on the sandy lakeshore; the creature barely registered the blaster fire as it roared and charged at the fearless warriors, who refused to back down despite their obvious disadvantage. Stubbornness must go hand-in-hand with the Way, she thought with a sardonic smile, bracing herself as Din fired at the creature and spun the ship around for another pass. Din fired another shot, which connected with the creature’s hide in a fiery explosion and resulted in its lifeless corpse collapsing onto the shore of the large lake.

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” (Y/N) praised as he expertly landed the starfighter on an empty stretch of sand, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the chunks of smoking meat and bloody intestines littered the lakeshore and flicking the switch to open the windshield. “You think that’ll make them a little happier to see us?”

They both looked over at the Mandalorians gathered across the way and Din released a heavy sigh. “Only one way to find out.”

After hopping down from the starfighter and onto the sand, Din helped her descend from the cockpit and let Grogu out of his compartment in the back, and the three of them walked across the shore to where the Armorer stood; the other Mandalorians watched them pass by and some even murmured to one another, but none of them stopped them from standing before their de facto leader and (Y/N) refused to cower under the intense weight of their stares. “Din Djarin, Captain (Y/L/N).”

“My riduur and I humbly request an audience with you.” Din’s hand move to rest on the small of her back as he addressed the Armorer. “It pertains to our last interaction on Glavis.”

The Armorer silently studied them for a moment before giving them a curt nod and leading them to the entrance of a nearby cave. Beside (Y/N), Din breathed a small sigh of relief before leading the way and all around them, the Mandalorians began to disperse and clean up after their battle with the reptilian; (Y/N)’s eyes found the familiar helmet of Paz Vizsla, the Mandalorian she’d butted heads with during their short time on Glavis, and she stubbornly held his gaze until they stepped into the cave, wordlessly showing him that she was still not an aruetiise to be trifled with. Her husband’s gloved hand flexed but stayed in its usual place against the small of her back and the child trotted along behind them as they followed the Armorer through the network of tunnels.

They found her standing in her cavernous forge beneath a beskar Mythosaur skull mounted onto the wall, leaning against one of tables and facing away from them as she quietly gathered her thoughts. “You have removed your helmet. What’s worse, you did so of your own free will.” The Armorer turned around before continuing with an air of finality, “You are no longer Mandalorian.”

Grogu softly cooed and (Y/N) flashed him a reassuring smile while Din took a step forward and stated, “The Creed teaches us of redemption.”

“Redemption is no longer possible, since the destruction of our homeworld.”

“But what if the Mines of Mandalore still exist?”

The Armorer shook her head in impatience. “All was destroyed in the Purge.”

Biting her lip to keep from voicing her more irritated thoughts, (Y/N) reached into her coat’s pocket and withdrew the thick shard of green-hued crystal. “Is this inscription not Mandalorian?”

While she set the artifact down on the table separating them, she could feel the Armorer’s eyes trained on her and sense her surprise as they took a seat to wait for her answer; after a brief moment’s hesitation, she moved to sit across from them at the table. “Where did you come upon this?”

“Jawas,” Din replied while (Y/N)’s fingers smoothed over Grogu’s wrinkled forehead. “They came upon it by trade from a traveler who claimed to have visited the surface of Mandalore.”

The artifact was only a small tablet inscribed with Mandalorian writing and embedded in crystal, but the Armorer picked it up and examined it as if it were a faulty thermal detonator. “Then this relic only proves that Mandalore’s entire surface has been crystalized by fusion rays.”

“But a traveler was able to retrieve this…so perhaps, it is not poisoned.” The Armorer remained silent and Din took it as a sign to continue. “If we visit the planet and we can bring you proof that I have bathed in the Living Waters beneath the Mines of Mandalore, then by Creed, the decree of exile will be lifted and I would be redeemed.”

(Y/N) had spent enough time around Din to master the ability of reading the emotions of anyone who donned a helmet and as the Armorer sat across from the three of them, she knew that she was considering more than just Din’s transgression and status as an apostate. But she held her tongue and merely watched the Armorer shift in her seat before finally speaking. “This is the Way.”

Din’s shoulders sagged in relief and once they got to their feet, he lifted Grogu into his arms and gave the Armorer a firm nod. “Then we will see you again.”

The both of them turned and began making their way back through the network of tunnels, and (Y/N) glanced over at her husband with a knowing smile on her lips. “So, Nevarro?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s time to recruit a little help for our new quest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Welcome to Nevarro, independent trade anchor and Outer Rim Hyperlane port. Please state the purpose of your visit.”

“We’re here to meet an old friend,” (Y/N) answered, expertly piloting the starfighter over the bustling city and easing into their descent as she took in the wondrous sight before them. “When we heard talk that Nevarro was thriving as of late, I had no idea that it’d be like this.”

“You should’ve seen what it looked like back when the Guild still operated here.” Din’s modulated voice was filled with awe and he leaned forward to get a closer look at the planet he’d once spent most of his time on. She landed the starfighter just beyond the city’s archway where dozens of other ships were stationed and allowed the Mandalorian to help her down from the cockpit, tilting his helmeted head down to give him a Keldabe Kiss and activating the mechanism to release Grogu’s floating pram from the ship.

The two of them walked hand-in-hand through the city’s archway while Grogu drifted along beside them, quietly admiring the thriving community that successfully emerged from the remnants of the Empire better and stronger than before. Vendors sold their wares along the streets to eager shoppers of all manner of species – (Y/N) craned her neck to see if there were any selling fabrics and sewing materials while Din gave her shoulder a loving bump – and stalls of chefs preparing various delicacies filled the air with mouth-watering aromas. She chuckled when she noticed Grogu staring up in interest at a tree filled with chattering Kowakian monkey-lizards and she listened in as they walked past a stationed white protocol droid.

“Welcome to the port of Nevarro, gem of the Outer Rim. Our esteemed High Magistrate welcomes you and hopes that your stay will be a prosperous one.”

“Greef Karga seems to be as humble a man as I remember,” (Y/N) remarked with a giggle as Din shook his head in exasperation. “Let’s just hope he’s not as big of a flirt; I’m a married woman now, after all.”

“He’ll get over his disappointment.” Din’s voice was filled with enough snark to make her chuckle and give his pauldron a reassuring kiss.

“We invite you to visit our shops and markets, enjoy local delicacies, marvel at the black lava canyons, or soak in the geothermal springs.”

Her brow arched in interest at the protocol droid’s spiel while they passed by; she knew it had been a while since they’d experienced the luxury of real lodgings, and nothing sounded as good to her in that moment as a relaxing bath and a good night’s sleep in an honest-to-Maker real bed. Maybe we’ll be able to spend a night before the next leg of our journey, she thought with a glimmer of hope.

Beside her, Din hummed in interest as they strolled past a street band and a group of children at play. “A lot has changed around here.”

They came upon the city square, where a statue of an IG-series assassin droid stood tall atop a jagged pedestal; Din and Grogu’s adventures with IG-11 happened long before (Y/N) joined their quest but she’d heard plenty of stories about the droid that saved both of their lives from Moff Gideon and his Imperial forces. IG-11 was the only droid that Din had ever called a friend and with the knowledge of the horrors he’d experienced when he was a child as the sole survivor of a Separatist droid attack, she understood why the droid’s noble sacrifice meant so much to him.

“It was thoughtful of Greef to erect a statue of him,” (Y/N) remarked as she studied the droid’s worn parts. “Now, all of Nevarro will remember the droid who sacrificed himself to rid their planet of Imperial remnants.”

Her husband nodded and glanced over at Grogu. “Do you remember your old friend?”

The child’s large green ears fell and when he let out a saddened coo, (Y/N) patted the top of his wrinkled head and gave him a comforting smile. “It’s okay, little guy.”

“Mando! (Y/N)!” They both turned to see a beaming Greef Karga making his way towards them, dressed in the elaborate robes of a High Magistrate complete with two droids holding the hem of his cape above the ground. “I heard that the both of you were back, but I didn’t believe it.”

There was a smile in Din’s modulated voice as he gave his old friend a nod. “Magistrate Karga.”

“That’s High Magistrate Karga to you,” Greef chuckled and firmly clasped Din’s arm in greeting before turning to (Y/N) with a charming smile. “But you may call me whatever you’d like, my dear. It’s so very good to see such a beauty once again grace our city with her presence.”

Just as he moved to place a kiss on her knuckles, (Y/N) calmly extricated her hand from his and extended her fingers to show off her wedding band. “You’re very kind, Greef, but I’m actually spoken for now; we were married several months ago on my homeworld of Naboo.”

Greef’s face illuminated with joy and he clasped his hands together. “Congratulations, my friends! Come, we’ll share a drink in honor of the happy couple and catch up on old times!” He looked down at Grogu and gave his nose a gentle tap. “And, of course, we’ll find a special treat for the little one as well.”

The child’s joyful giggles accompanied the trio as they entered the city’s main hall and Din’s helmet tilted to the side. “Doesn’t even look like the same place…”

“I know, we’ve done a lot with it! The citizens have been instrumental in making this all work, and look at this.”

(Y/N) smiled while she followed the High Magistrate upstairs to his office overlooking the sprawling cityscape. “The possibility of communities like this being able to thrive after the tyranny of the Empire was what many of us Rebels fought for. You all should be very proud of yourselves, Greef.”

“You’re far too kind, my dear,” Greef led them into his office and gave Din a mischievous wink. “And you are a very lucky man, Mando.”

“I know,” Her husband replied as he lifted Grogu out of his pram and set him down on one of the desk chairs. “Don’t spin it too much, okay, kid?”

Grogu babbled to himself and started to rotate the chair using the Force, and a chuckling (Y/N) caressed one of his ears while she followed Din and Greef out onto the office’s spacious balcony. “We are now an official trade spur of the Hydian Way. We’ve got a construction boom going on in the city, the belters are mining the asteroid fields at the edge of the system…” They all looked out at the stunning view before them. “There’s a lot of money to be made on Nevarro.”

“I can see.”

Greef’s eyes suddenly lit up with an idea. “I can set you up with a prime tract right over by the hot springs! You two and the little one, you can settle down, you can hang up your blasters, live off the fat of the land.” He turned to (Y/N) and gestured towards her impeccably-handmade clothing. “You’re a self-taught seamstress from a prominent Mid-Rim planet, (Y/N); you could open a shop right here in the heart of Nevarro!”

Taken aback by the casual mention of her life-long dream, all (Y/N) could think to say in response was one word. “Grogu.”

“…Come again?”

Din pointed at the child, who was still keeping himself entertained by spinning his chair in circles. “The kid. His name is Grogu.”

“Oh…If you say so! Come, I wanna show you something…” Greef walked back into the office and they followed, (Y/N) doing her best not to glance over at Din as the High Magistrate’s offer played on repeat in her mind; she’d always dreamed of living the quiet life of a seamstress, with a shop to call her own and the ability to practice the trade she’d studied as a child on Naboo. Din had known about her dream for some time, and (Y/N) didn’t need to see his face to tell he was riddled with guilt over not being able to give it to her. While she watched, Greef walked around his desk and activated a holo-map, smiling in self-assurance as he gestured to an empty portion of land. “Now, as I was saying, there’s a beautiful parcel available right down here by the flats-”

“We appreciate the offer, but we have some matters to look after,” Din interrupted with an apologetic shrug.

Greef’s brow furrowed. “Oh, I’m confused. I thought you two had completed your mission, but you’re still running around here with the same little critter.”

The Mandalorian reached out and held the back of Grogu’s chair to stop its spinning before replying, “It’s complicated; we completed our quest, but he returned to us. I removed my helmet, and now I’m an apostate.”

“Which is all the more reason for you all to stay here with us!” As Greef talked, Grogu used the Force to summon a piece of candy from the bowl on the desk and (Y/N) expertly snatched a second out of the air so he couldn’t eat it. “Where you’re from, you may be an apostate but here, you’d be landed gentry.”

Before either Din or (Y/N) could answer, a golden protocol droid entered the office. “Magistrate!”

“High Magistrate.”

“Y-Yes, High Magistrate, apologies-”

“Your timing couldn’t be any worse.”

“But it’s just that, there’s someone here to see you-”

Greef impatiently waved the droid off. “It can wait.”

“But it’s pirates!” Greef, (Y/N) and Din all froze at the protocol droid’s panicked interruption. “Pirates in the courtyard!”

The High Magistrate’s jaw clenched and he turned towards them both. “Could I ask a favor of you both?”

(Y/N) nodded and set Grogu back into his pram while Din asked, “I take it they’re not friends of yours?”

“They used to be,” Greef replied, and the three of them strode out of the office to the courtyard down below. “That’s the problem.”

Once they reached the courtyard just past the statue of IG-11, (Y/N) split away from Din and Grogu to lean a shoulder against the schoolhouse wall; her husband leaned against a nearby tree while Greef slowly approached the group of rowdy pirates preoccupied with threatening the school’s poor protocol droid standing guard at the door.

“Get out of my way, or I’ll split your circuits!” The droid whimpered in fear at the Nikto’s threat and (Y/N)’s nostrils flared in anger, but she stayed where she was and allowed Greef to talk to the pirates first. “Stand aside, droid, don’t you know who we are?”

“Come on, Vane.” The Nikto and his friends turned around in surprise at the sound of Greef’s voice. “That’ll be enough of that.”

Vane, the obvious leader of the group, opened his arms and grinned. “Greef Karga, my old friend. I knew you wouldn’t insult us. Come, join us for a drink!”

Greef chuckled humorlessly and gestured towards the city’s main hall. “Let’s continue this conversation back at my office. This is a school.”

“Well, that explains why she wouldn’t let me in.” The pirates laughed and (Y/N) bit her lip in anticipation. “I forgot, it was your cut of my boss’s treasure that built this saloon.”

“Pirate King Gorian Shard’s name is familiar to all in this sector.” (Y/N) refused to react to the name uttered by Greef but inside, she was filled with a sudden urge to shudder; she’d had dealings with the Pirate King as a young smuggler – none of them very pleasant for either party – and when she’d become a Rebellion captain, she’d hoped that her days of dealing with scum like Shard and his pirates were well behind her. Apparently not, she thought to herself and refocused on the tense scene playing out before her. “Come, join me for a drink back at my office. We’ll toast to your captain.”

Vane’s eyes narrowed in anger. “We drink here.”

“…That is a school now.”

“I say it’s still a bar. Now, bring us a drink.”

Din tilted his helmeted head to the side and called out, “Is there a problem here, Magistrate?”

“High Magistrate,” (Y/N) corrected as she pushed herself off the wall and strode over to stand near Greef. “There sure looks like a problem to me.”

His brow arched while the Nikto and his friends studied his two companions. “Is there a problem here? What do you think?”

Vane merely shrugged. “Not if you serve me a drink.”

“Not in my school.”

That made Vane chuckle. “You hear that, boys? His school!” The other pirates slowly flanked their leader as he walked into the center of the street. “You paid us for murder and mayhem inside these doors.” He brushed his coat aside to reveal the blaster holstered at his hip. “Sounds like you went soft.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw Din push himself away from the tree trunk and stand tall. “You think so?” Greef pushed his robes out of the way to reveal his own blaster. “Try me.”

The mounting tension in the air was palpable as Greef and Vane stared one another down; the group of pirates behind the Nikto held their breaths and hovered their hands over the hilts of their blasters while (Y/N) and Din did the same, both sides waiting for the other to make the first move. In the blink of an eye, Greef shot Vane’s hand just as he started to raise his blaster, causing him to groan in pain and hold his injured hand to his chest while frightened citizens of Nevarro scattered at the sound of blaster fire.

“Tell Captain Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates,” The High Magistrate commanded without lowering his blaster. “Now get out of here.” Predictably, the other pirates started reaching for their blasters but before they could fully draw them, (Y/N) and Din shot all five of them dead while Vane cowered away from the multitude of blaster bolts. “Get out of here, Vane. Now.”

The Nikto threw Greef one final glare before turning and running down the street towards the edge of the city. “Sure you wanna let him go?” Din asked as he holstered his blaster and joined (Y/N) beside Grogu’s pram, resting a gloved hand on the small of her back while she pressed a comforting kiss onto the child’s wrinkled head.

“He’ll let it be known that Nevarro is respectable now and not to be trifled with.” Greef holstered his blaster before turning to address his protocol droid. “Have the service droids scrub up out there.”

“Yes, sir, right away.”

Greef led them back down the street towards the city’s square and sighed. “I’ve gotta level with you two, I need a marshal.”

(Y/N) frowned in confusion. “But what about Marshal Dune?”

“After she brought in Moff Gideon, she was recruited by Special Forces.”

Beside her, Din’s shoulders tensed. “And what came of Gideon?”

“He was sent off to a New Republic War Tribunal.” Although (Y/N) was unsurprised by the fate of their old enemy, she knew that a part of her husband wanted nothing more than to see the Imperial officer dead at his feet. “So, what do you say? You ready to put on the stripes and collect a healthy stipend? You’d make a very fine lawman, Mando, and you can even have (Y/N) here serve as your partner.”

It was Din’s turn to be confused. “Why not request one from the New Republic?”

“The last thing we intend is to bow down to yet another far-off bureaucracy,” Greef explained. “No, under my watch, Nevarro will become the first truly independent trade anchor in this entire sector.”

(Y/N) glanced over at Din before giving the High Magistrate an apologetic smile. “While we’re honored by your invitation, we can’t serve as your law enforcement. We have something pressing to attend to.”

“Apologies, I didn’t know you were here on business.” Greef bowed his head and extended his hands outwards. “What can we provide?”

Din turned and pointed at the nearby statue of IG-11. “I need him back.”

Greef’s brow arched as he chuckled in disbelief at the Mandalorian’s request. “IG-11 was destroyed on the lava river. This is just a statue!”

“These are his parts, are they not?”

“…I mean, what’s left of ‘em. We were lucky to recover any of his parts after he self-destructed.”

“We need a droid we can trust to help us explore Mandalore, and he’s that droid.”

The High Magistrate shook his head. “Mando, we’ve got plenty of droids around here, we’ll find you one. I guarantee it.”

“I already tried convincing him to look for a different droid, but he’s insistent that IG-11 is the best and only droid for the job.” (Y/N) looped her arm around her husband’s waist and gave Greef an imploring look. “Please, just let us give it a shot.”

With a deep sigh, Greef finally nodded in agreement. “Very well. Has anyone ever told you that you’re both as stubborn as massiffs?”

“Only once or twice…” Din shrugged and while the High Magistrate began making arrangements to have the droid’s parts disassembled and sent up to his office, (Y/N) kissed the side of his helmet. They were one step closer to completing their new quest and with it, one step closer to finally having peace in their lives again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur-I love you, my darling husband Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain Riduur-Spouse Aruetiise-Outsider

A/N: Since it’s been so long since I’ve written anything for Din, I thought that you all deserved a longer chapter lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I've created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you're interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Two

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​ @sinon36​ @seninjakitey​ @thatonedindjarinfan​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ @mostclevermiss​ @momc95​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @elinedjarin​ @itsnottilly​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001​​ @groovy-lady​​ @impala1967666​​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​

[darthmaulification]

boba fett NSFW alphabet

A/N: boba fett is just... *chef’s kiss* 😍😍 i want to hug and smooch him on the lips and have him absolutely rail me 🥴🥴

this is for post-sarlacc/mandalorian boba fett as well, and does primarily assume fem/afab!reader.

nsfw under the cut!!😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Boba’s positively soft after sex. He takes care of you so so well, especially after particularly rough rounds, and will make sure you’re safe, warm, and comfortable. This usually means he cleans you up, either by running you a bath or wiping you down with a damp cloth, and massaging away any aches you may have obtained. Boba is also uncharacteristically talkative while he tends to your needs, and it’s all praise like “You did so well, cyare” and “Such a good girl” alongside clarifying questions like “Do you feel sore anywhere?” and “Would you like me to run a bath?”. Boba makes sure you are completely taken care of.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Boba doesn’t have a favorite part of your body, because he’s easily able to mark it all up and he’s never been one to pick favorites, but I suppose he’s like any other man and does enjoy your... feminine curves, so to speak. He particularly likes your hips, ass, and thighs, if not only that he’s able to spank them, nibble on them, grab onto them while he’s fucking you silly... it’s also because he loves watching them sway as you walk. There’s a certain perfect sashay mixed with a slight jerk in your gait that Boba loves to watch, how your thighs ripple slightly with each step, how your ass does the same, and how those perfect hips of your rock side to side... Yeah... there’s something perfect there.

If Boba had to chose a favorite part of his body and not say “The whole damn thing!”, he’d pick his arms and hands. They’re what he does everything with, how he handles his blasters and jet pack, how he handles fighting, how he handles you, etc etc. Boba’s hands and arms are where every skill of his is practiced and carried out, the limbs that can do anything. He finds a slight pride in that. Also, Boba knows you also enjoy his arms, so he finds it very amusing to flex for you every once in a while to get you blushing.

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Boba Fett cums a lot, and he makes sure all of it ends up inside you. He finds it incredibly satisfying to dominate you in such a way, being able to paint your insides white, to claim you and your pussy as his. Boba also has a slight breeding kink, so he makes sure none of his cum goes to waste, sometimes pushing it back into you when it leaks out. 

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

Boba will probably never tell you this explicitly, most likely you will pick up on it with every breadcrumb he leaves, but Boba loves you so fucking much. He has so so much love for you it makes his heart bleed with the intensity. He’s never loved someone with all his being before, never cared this hard in his life. Boba may not even be able admit it to himself, love is a word that has brought him so much pain. But he loves you, he loves you, he loves you... Cyare, mesh’la, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum...

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. Boba has had many many sexual partners over his lifetime, so he knows exactly what he’s doing and his way around your body. Having the “tall, dark, and handsome” allure as a bounty hunter really helped him with this.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

Boba has a couple positions he usually defaults to, all of which he enjoys. They are:

Leap frog. This is a close one for being his favorite position. Boba likes to keep you beneath him, for control, and when your flat on your chest, arms either trapped under your body or above your head, hips hitched up just enough to allow him access... well, that gives him all the control he could dream of. When you’re like this, Boba fucks the life out of you, draping over you to kiss your back and neck all while one hand is nestled around the front to toy with your clit. He also loves how desperate for more friction you get with this one.

Doggy style. He likes the control this position gives him, how he’s able to command you into it, set the pace, decide when you are allowed to come undone. Boba also likes being able to grab your hips and knead your ass as he rails you, leaving fingerprint bruises on your skin. He also likes spanking you and pulling at your hair. He also keeps a couple firm, large fingers against your clit, rolling that sensitive bud between them.

Missionary. Boba enjoys basic missionary because A) you’re smooshed under him, B) it gives him the ability to kiss you as he pounds into you, and C) he’s able to be versatile. He also likes how personal and intimate missionary is, being able to see your face and watch your facial expressions as you orgasm for him again and again. Boba also gives your breasts a lot of attention when he’s got this perfect access to them, kneading them and pinching and tweaking your nipples.

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Boba is 100% about making sure that you are receiving the pleasure you deserve. He is giving you everything he’s got during sex, so there’s no room for being silly. The most “goofiness” that he partakes in is lots of teasing and dirty talk, which isn’t all that goofy to begin with, just as serious and commanding as he is.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Boba is a functionalist, so he’s pretty well groomed below the belt. Of course, of what he has left to groom. The Sarlacc pit’s acid wiped out pretty much all his body hair, including his happy trail and about a quarter of his tuft (Boba genuinely thanks the Maker every day his penis remained untouched), so there’s only a little bit to take care of. 

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Boba is intimate in a very domineering, overpowering way. He gets you so close to the edge so quickly, so torturously that there’s nothing but this overwhelming closeness that occurs, this performance of worship. His hands and mouth on your body, his voice in your ear, it’s like you become one, when he’s steady above you, your bodies interlocked, fingers laced in your hair, tugging gently. It will feel like Boba pushes you to the limit, that the intensity is like a thousands stars burning over you at once. Boba’s presence is like that.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

When he was a younger, more spry, more sexually unruly man? Yes. Everyday, probably. Now when he’s older, has more self-control, and you by his side? Not so much. Rarely ever, to be honest. the only times he finds himself with the itch to yank it would be if he’s been gone from you for a while or if it’s a mutual masturbation type of situation.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Boba is such a fucking sexual deviant and kinky bastard it’s no wonder he decided to be a bounty hunter, because only a bounty hunter would act up the way Boba does. He has quite a few kinks, but here are the main ones:

Daddy kink. Boba is the physical manifestation of the “Your daughter calls me daddy too” meme. He derives such a smug pleasure from you calling him Daddy. He also likes it for the position of authority it is.

Dom/sub dynamic. Boba is a bonifide top/dom and nothing is changing that. He’s the one in charge, who makes the rules and breaks the rules, and he isn’t relinquishing that anytime soon. Boba thrives in that position of power, and loves having you a submissive, moaning mess beneath him. If you are naturally a quieter, maybe introverted person, Boba would go near rabid because that softness is just what he’s looking for. If you’re dominate like him, he sees that as a challenge... Prepare to be dominated.

Praise/degradation kink. He really just loves to hear himself talk, huh? This man is constant, non-stop dirty talk during sex and he’ll be saying downright delicious things to you. He’ll be giving you all the pet names in the book, “cyar’ika”, “pretty girl”, “mesh’la”, etc etc. Every time you react the way he wants to, or you pleasantly surprise him with your response to him, you’ll be rewarded with utmost praise. He’ll coo to you about how well you’re taking his cock, how perfect your body is, how good your wet pussy tastes... everything. Boba also likes balancing the good with the bad, so he may use a bit of degradation, usually in the form of backhanded compliments or ruder nicknames. However, if you don’t like degradation, he will simply avoid it, easy said and done.

Innocence kink/virgin kink. Woo hoo boy... Boba loves if you are or act all shy and bashful with him in the bedroom. It really goes hand in hand with his dominate role, you being a submissive, blushing mess while he’s all big and intimidating (not in a fear way). He likes being the one to corrupt you by marking your body all up with love bites and small bruises, making your tight pussy his as he rails you. If you tell him you’re a virgin the first time y’all have sex, Boba might go feral.

Breeding kink. Before meeting you, Boba didn’t really have this kink. His younger years were spent angry and vengeful and full of sex that was meaningless at the end of the day. But after the Sarlacc, and snagging the Palace from Bib Fortuna, and meeting you, Boba kinda starts getting an inkling of wanting a little something extra... or a little someone extra. He starts genuinely contemplating and liking the idea of having kids, and it partly manifests in his dirty talk where he’ll say stuff like “Gonna let me fill you up?” and “Got to keep your pussy full. Womb too”. Boba likes the idea of you mothering his children.

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

Boba’s favorite place to positively ravish you is anywhere that he has full control over the safety of the room. So this usually applies to the bedroom, where Boba has set up so many security measures that no one is getting in, but also to more public places. When Boba was younger, he was much much more into exhibitionism and would’ve been down to fuck like... in front of a crowd, to be honest. But he’s older now (and wiser too) so he values the concepts of safety and security, much unlike his past self. So while Boba may still fuck you in an alley or in the throne room, he makes sure that literally no one is around. He does this less out of the potential embarrassment, but more so because he knows he has a huge target on his back. 

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

If you start being a little tease, or show him a bit of sass and being overall more mouthy, his pants are definitely getting a bit tight around the crotch region. Boba loves it when and if you try to talk back to him or if you get all snarky.

On the opposite hand, Boba also loves it if you’re easily flustered, all pink-faced and bashful at something he says. He really finds a smidgen of shyness to be really, really enticing. It strokes his massive Dom Complex.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Boba has a few hard turn offs that he would never do, full stop. They’re age play/regression, consensual non-con/rape play, and extreme sadism. While he does have a daddy kink, it’s really only for the name and position of power, not the age factor (so he’s not into DDLG). And despite Boba being a big ol’ bastard, it’s never sat with him well to play the role of “rapist” during sex. Also, Boba likes a bit of punishment and being rough ‘n tough with you, but he has a limit of how far he’d go. He never wants to actually hurt hurt you. Even if you’re a full masochist and you asked him to do it, said it’s okay and everything, Boba would still never harm you and would probably get fully turned off.

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

He doesn’t really have a preference, because he’ll go down on you and if you give him head, he’s all game, but fuck, does Boba like going down on you. He gets an immense amount of satisfaction from making you cum using only his mouth, having you completely undone and writhing just from his face between your legs. He also really loves your pussy??? Like it’s so perfect to him, the aroma, the taste, the slick, wet feel, the way it clenches and quivers around his tongue, etc etc??? Boba loves it.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

Boba fucks hard and rough and slow and with a purpose. He wants to give you (and himself, of course) as much pleasure as possible for as long as possible. He paces himself very well, the master of self-control he is, and he will have you orgasming and edging for ages before he finally dicks you down. Boba finds great pleasure in having you cockdumb by the end of it.

Sometimes though, Boba gives you that same purpose in a slightly different way. he still fucks you good, but he’ll be a bit more sensual, a bit more gentle. Often, it’s because you ask to love make, but occasionally it’s because Boba really really wants you to know just how much you mean to him.

PDA is very very lowkey and subtle with Boba. This is mostly because he and you know that if your relationship, especially with how deep it is, were to become too much of common knowledge, someone is bound to use it against you, specifically to get back at Boba. So, Boba doesn’t often even have a hand on you in public, or show any outward affection. What he does do though, is stand close to you or have you close at his side. He keeps you in his line of sight always, and it’s become a sort of dance you to have. Boba and you orbit each other in a way, never growing too distant nor too close. Though, its perfect for you.

However, if someone starts making moves on you, Boba may physically step in, cutting whoever it is off from you. He’ll make sure they know that your off limits, untouchable. Usually, this also brings the gentlest yet firmest of hands to your lower back.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Yes. Just yes. Boba loves quickies. He might be addicted to them. It’s a mix of he is always Ready To Fuck and he just finds you so damn desirable and beautiful. Though he will always prefer having you for a few hours opposed to a rushed ten minutes. But don’t think he does any less of a good job.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

In his younger years, this would’ve been a hard, enthusiastic “yes”, but nowadays Boba won’t really actively experiment. If you have something you want to try, odds are he’ll go along with it, but he won’t ever bring up something new. He’s very content with his abilities, that are admittedly very very successful.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

Boba can last a long while, considering his age. He’s got years of experience and a whole lot of self-control under his belt, so he’s able to work you for at least a couple hours before he starts feeling it. He’ll having you cumming over and over again, working you with his mouth, hands, and cock. Boba also is very good at pacing and has this uncanny ability to restrain himself in a way that the pleasure for him doesn’t build up unless he allows it to. So don’t expect him to cum, even in light of your best efforts.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Again, used to when he was younger. But now he doesn’t because he knows he’s too damn good with his hands, mouth, and...y’know... to need any toys. Though, if you have any toys or you ask him to try one out, he’ll humor you and oblige. But he’ll tease you about it a ton, saying stuff like “Ah, but don’t you want my mouth instead?” or “I bet you’re missing my cock”. Boba will always make sure that you know he’s better than any toy that you’d introduce.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Boba is such a smug shit. He teases so much and is so unfair that it borders on being cruel and he enjoys it, the fucking guy. If you’re into that, he’ll get you begging and in tears before he lets up and gives you what you want (read: need). But if you’re not into it, he has a base, “normal” level of tease, but he’d never take it too far. If he does push it too far, he’ll make it up to you however you want him to, because the last thing he wants is you too upset because of him.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Boba spends most his time during sex teasing the life out of you so he is vocal in that respect. He talks the talk, saying stuff like “You take my cock so well, little girl” and “Use your words, mesh’la, tell me what you want”. His constant dirty talk is sometimes broken up by growls from the back of his throat, heavy grunting and groaning, and the occasional low moan— all from the slick, hot heat that is you. 

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

Boba struggles with pain sometimes, the aches left behind from the wounds he received from the Sarlacc pit. It usually flares up if he’s stressed or been overworking himself, making his skin feel tight, like there’s a constant pull in all directions. He also gets pain from age and overuse of his joints. Often, it’s only his knees and ankles that act up, but sometimes he gets it in his back and wrists. And though he never says anything about it, and never asks you for anything, he really does appreciate it if you take the time to give him a massage or run him a warm bath, despite how grumpy he gets when you do.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Boba is built like a fucking tank, an absolute hunk of a man. From a life of training, bounty hunting, fighting, etc etc, Boba has a body type akin to a powerlifter, he never built muscle for show, only functionality. He’s all broad-shoulders, stocky, and thick muscles. Unlike the beauty standard, Boba doesn’t have the ever-desired six pack abs or pinched waist, he has a hefty barrel torso and a slight, squishy tummy. His arms and legs are equally, if not more, strong and muscled like the rest of him, and Boba is very easily able to lift you up whenever.

Now, of course, Boba is very heavily scarred. He has scars of varying sizes, shapes, and ages, some being that shiny white while others are still pinkish, all over his body from bounty hunting and getting into tiffs. The Sarlacc also completed ravaged his bronze skin, leaving this impressive and tight web of scar tissue near everywhere on his body, though it’s most heavily condensed on his left side.

NOW HIS PENIS. Boba has a Nice Cock on him, that’s for damn sure. He’s not exceedingly big, but he is girthy. And weighty. Boba’s penis is 6 inches (15.25 cm) in length and just under 2.5 inches (6.35 cm) in diameter. He is uncut, and a prominent vein runs on the bell end of his cock. His balls are also very impressive and are fairly heavy.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Astronomical. Boba suffers from Horny Derangement Syndrome™. You touch his shoulder as you pass by him? His cock is hard. You give him a kiss out of the blue “just because”? He’s dry humping against you. You give him a cheeky smile and flirt with him? His pants are off. Boba is in a constant state of Wanting To Fuck. But, of course, if your sex drive doesn’t match his or if you’re not in the mood, he literally will not care or hold it against you.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Boba does not fall asleep until you have. Period. Full stop. It’s a bit of a machismo thing of his (he sees himself as the “protector” in the relationship) but it’s also because he just genuinely likes watching you fall asleep. Boba likes when you get all sleepy and droopy, melting against him, feeling all your muscles relax as your body starts to slow down. It makes him feel strong, comfortable, and most of all, loved. You falling asleep next to him, the Boba Fett, is almost the biggest exercise of trust you can show him, and he loves it.

[deanzboyfriend]

Bounty gone wrong

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin/Mando x gn reader (No Y/N)

Genre: Angst with sprinkle of fluff at the end

Warnings⚠️: Injuries, guns (blasters), violence, cursing, death threats, ooc Mando bc im a softie

Requested: No

Summary: You get hurt on a bounty hunt gone wrong, which causes Din’s feelings to come to the surface.

A/N: This is my first Din/Star Wars fic :) Also, I am very bad at titles- but thanks to @tinyphantomsalad for the bounty’s name! Enjoy <3

It was supposed to be a quick-and-easy hunt. You and Din had made a stop on Nevarro to get a few maintenance checks on the Crest and to find an at least decently paying job to buy some supplies. The job that Greef had given you two seemed fairly simple - Go in, track down Drayden, get out. It seemed easy enough. The bounty, Nok Drayden, had minimal fighting experience, no guards, and you had his last known location. With the information you got, you left Grogu with Cara and headed off on the crest to the bounty’s location.

-

You should’ve known in your time with Din that things are never that easy. When you arrived at the cantina that Drayden was hiding in, it was nearly empty. That should’ve been your first warning sign. You saw him exiting through the back, but when you and Din chased him, all hell broke loose.

Drayden brought escorts. Armed escorts. It was a trap. He wanted Din’s beskar and the location of the child.

“Dammit! Din, we have to get out of here.” You continue to hide behind a pillar. “I know.” His modulated voice responds. More guards start to show up and the blaster fire gets thicker. “We need to move now Din, or we’re not gonna make it out of this place alive!” You shift your body to where only your arms were visible in front of the pillar so you could fire back. Din looks back towards you and nods.

You start your charge forward, taking out as many as you can. You attempt to keep them out of Din’s path as he gets to higher ground to take out the ones on the rooftops. You breathe heavily, taking out a few more of the guards that were on the ground. You see Din climbing down when you feel someone grab you from behind. “Kriff! MANDO!” You yell out as you’re put in a choke hold.

Din raced towards you, but Drayden made him stop in his tracks when he took out a knife and put it to your neck. “Not another step, Mandalorian, or I’ll slit the throat of your little friend here before I rip that pretty beskar off your corpse.” Din takes a step back. “Good, good. Now put your weapons on the ground, then maybe we can make a deal.” Din slowly bends down and places his blaster on the ground. “Now, you can give me the location of the child and destroy my puck, or you can watch your companion die by my hands. Sounds like a bargain, no?”

You looked right at Din’s visor and shook your head. I’ve had enough of this. You don’t give Din any time to consider negotiations with the bounty as you swing your leg around to hit the back of Drayden’s knees. You get a split second to fight back as you get yourself out of the chokehold. Unlucky for you, you had a strength disadvantage, so as you went in for the knockout hit, he was able to escape your grip and get a hit at your nose. You get knocked back a bit, your eyes watering. Drayden took this to his advantage and stabbed you in your side. You cry out in pain and double over. “CYAR’IKA!”

Din immediately takes action, taking out the bounty before he could do anymore damage to you. He rushes over and accesses the damage. “Well shit Din, I g-guess he got me good huh.” Your eyes start to droop as you get weaker from the blood loss. “No, no, cyar’ika you have to keep your eyes open for me. We need to get back to the ship.” Din tries to make his voice sound calm, but seeing you like this is making his heart drop into his stomach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “‘m trying Din”

Din picks you up, being mindful of your wound, knowing you won’t be able to stand on your own much longer. You groan at your injury being moved around. “I know, cyare, I’m sorry. Come on, you have to stay awake.” You try to concentrate on Din’s voice as an attempt to stay awake for him. It was getting harder and harder for you to stay awake. “‘m sorry, Din. I’m t-too tired...” Din attempted to keep you from giving up because you were almost to the Crest, but as soon as you went limp in his arms, he ran as fast as his legs would take him.

When he finally got you set down, he was frantically searching the medical kit for what he needed. He rushes back to your side and silently apologizes to you. For letting you get hurt. For putting you in danger. For not trusting his instincts.

He cuts your shirt open on the side to get a better look at the wound. He gives you a bacta shot before starting to attend to your injury. He can’t lose you. Not like this. He can’t. He never told you he loved you. Never told you that he wanted to marry you someday. Start a family with you.

When he finished, he sits down beside you and holds your face in his gloved hand. He sits there in silence, just watching your chest move up and down, just to reassure himself that you’ll be ok. That you’re safe. “Cyar’ika I- I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I-I should’ve told you sooner how I...how I felt about you. I haven’t felt like this before and the fact that I almost lost you before I could tell you? I just can’t think of a world without you in it. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner kar’ta.” You let out a small pained chuckle as you put your hand atop his gloved one.

“You know, I never would’ve thought Mr. ‘Scary-intense-and-covered-in-beskar’ could be so soft.” Din let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You’re awake...How much of that did you hear?” He asks you. “Mmmm just, maybe, all of it. I’m glad my limited Mando’a came in handy because I love you too. So kriffing much that it hurts. And I know it’s not the hole in my side, that bacta kicked in really fast.” Din chuckles. “I’m glad it did, cyare, I’m glad it did.”

— fin —

Permanent tag list: @morcias @criminalswifts @maalinas

Other: @djarinscyare

[stars-trash-18]

Hi boo!! I just saw your Paz request and I was wondering if I could sort of get a continuation of that.... like maybe after that Paz has started to call the reader “mesh’la” and the reader was gone longer than usual from a supply run but they’re back now and it’s just pure softness between Paz and them - @remmysbounty

I never wrote something so fast, because I found a bumping playlist that gave me the wind I needed to ACTUALLY finish it.

Ever since the training incident Paz continued to call you mesh’la, simply because it distracted you and Paz never misses a chance to mess with people. Even if his face secretly burns under that bucket every time you scrunch your face up in a blush, Paz adored that look on your face. You knew it meant beautiful, the only time you were called it was from the other pilots who wanted a short fling and creepy drunks at the cantina. So when the giant blue tin can who once held a blaster to your head called you beautiful with the softest voice you’ve ever heard the only thing you could do was let your face catch on fire from how quickly the blood raced to your face. 

But every time you wanted to talk to him about the training incident, he somehow weaseled away from you in what your friend told you was a , “Ba'slan shev'la,” a strategic disappearance. You tried for weeks to talk to him but every time he’d get away, he’s like the legends you heard about mandalorians, you don’t find them they find you. Even though he actively avoided you when you sought him out, he’d always pass you with a quick “morning mesh’la” and “be careful out there mesh’la”, the last one happening in front of most of the covert as they sent you off for one of your bigger supply runs. You never heard the end of it from your friends and the Armorer dragged you into an interrogation, the woman was worse than the gossiping aunties on Alderaan as she drilled you for any info and you could hear the gears turn in her head as she sized you up for a proposal dagger. 

But nonetheless your heart continued to skip a beat everytime the tin bucket called you that little pet name, the tone of voice changing with every meeting. You had conversations more frequently, even after Paz finished your training, and so long as you avoided the burning questions you wanted to ask you could enjoy his company.  This went on for months, and you would hear the nickname in your sleep.

You hoped you’d hear it again as you landed on some backwater planet crawling with ex-imps and spice dealers. The only reason you were here was to look for a hermit healer (ha say that 3x fast) who was the only one willing to sell a year long asthma treatment. One of the foundlings had severe asthma from living in the filthy Coruscant air, and even though medicine was advanced it was still expensive to get a long lasting treatment, and you were gonna be damned if a foundling went without.

You breathed in deeply and stepped out into the hangar, tossing a stack of credits to a nearby droid to care for your ship as you began trekking into the forest, following the coordinates of the healer’s last known location. 

=====>>> POV CHANGE AND TIME SKIP OF 3 WEEKS<<<======

Paz was sweating as he paced the Karyai, you had gone to get medicine for a foundling, a trip that normally took a week. But it’s been three weeks and not a single word from you. At first when you didn’t show they thought maybe you had gotten lost (you were good navigating the stars, but put you on foot and you’d get lost in a paper bag), by the second week those that had doubted your commitment to the covert spoke their scathing remarks about you (that was shut down after Paz punched one of them out cold). By the third week Paz wasn’t seen too far from the hangar, he was always pacing the length of it or working at his weapons bench at all hours, Paz simply couldn’t sleep worrying over you. The Armorer said if you were still gone after the fourth week mark then they could organize a search part, but because they were in hiding they needed to wait to make sure. 

Just when Paz was about to say screw it and go after you himself or send Din the proximity alarms went off. He immediately booked it to the hangar, the feeling in his gut telling him it was you, he could feel how his heart sang the only way it would when you were near him singing like when beskar hits beskar. The sweet song carrying him the 80 feet to the hangar, the volume increasing with every step he took towards you. 

=======> POV CHANGE<========

When he entered the hangar he saw your ship touching down, and when the ramp finally opened he was already running to reach you in the cockpit. You nearly had a heart attack when you saw the blur of blue heading straight for you, but the moment you felt warm muscular arms encircle you as you were lifted off the ground you felt at peace. Paz rested his helmet onto your shoulder and you could feel his breath puffing out from under the lip of it, and you could feel him truly relax as he slowly lowered you back onto the ground, where he rested his helmet onto your forehead so that he could look at you.

“You scared the hell out of me Mesh’la, thought I lost you,” he said as he rested a hand on the back of your neck so he could pull you closer into his embrace. You rested your hands on either side of his helmet, if it were anyone else Paz would have shot them, but it was you and he let you pull his head so that you could place a kiss onto his neck. To many it was a kiss that is sexual but to you and him it was the only place you could place a kiss onto his skin, and it caused Paz to practically purr 

“Paz you never would have lost me, I never told you I love you yet,” you said, after the ordeal you went through you weren’t going to hesitate anymore. You weren’t going to let these feelings and words go unspoken, you had suffered enough in life that if there was a chance you can put something good into it you were going to jump. That good thing just so happened to be covered in blue beskar and had the greatest hugs you had ever felt.

Paz went rigid, at first you panicked thinking he was going to reject you before you could hear the words whispered into your hair, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,”. He pulled away from you to look into your face before he pressed the button to close the ramp and moved his hands to either side of his helmet. It was almost an instinct for you to squeeze your eyes shut and look away, but when you heard the clang of his helmet hitting the floor you felt his hands rest on either side of your face. 

“If you don’t want this mesh’la tell me now and I will back away, but if you do when I kiss you open your eyes,” He said, his words causing you to gasp and latch your hands onto his wrists.

“Paz are you sure?” You asked, your breathing picking up at the anxiety building on this life changing decision. You felt his thumb brush your cheeks to soothe you before you felt his forehead lean against your’s, finally relaxing at the contact to his skin on your’s in the familiar Keldabe Kiss.

“I want you mesh’la, and only you so when you open your eyes I will marry you here and now because for three weeks I only thought of you and the thought of spending another moment without you sounds unbearable,” he said before hesitantly brushing his lips onto yours, to give you time to pull away.

But you didn’t, and with a final sigh you leaned fully into the kiss and fluttered your eyes open to look upon the face of the only man who made you sing with happiness. In that moment both of your hearts sang the song of beskar, you both finally finding the only person the other’s heart would ever sing to.

[dindjarindiaries]

ooooooooof. two, four, or fifty bc I’m indecisive and thirsty.

Why not all three?

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. 4. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose. 50. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

It’s the aftermath of a fight gone bad that gets you huddle into Din’s arms tonight.

Everything had been going okay until a man jumped out of nowhere and disarmed you, pressing a blaster against your neck and using you against Din. Din had seemed so desperate to keep you safe, giving into all of their demands—and having to think of a way to lie about the baby’s location. He’d managed to convince them enough to let you go for a second and killed them in the time he had, but the situation had been enough to make you tremble for hours.

You still are. Din’s even brought you into his quarters for the night, holding you in the best way he can as your chin stays tucked in his chest. You can tell he’s worried for you—you’ve barely even said a word. But he gives you time, so much time, and even more unspoken affection.

You’d like it to be more tangible, now.

“Din,” you finally whisper, and he immediately responds to your call. It’s nearly pitch black in the compartment, causing you to struggle to find his helmet. It’s his hand—ungloved—that meets your face first, the rough skin of his hand finding your cheek as he encourages you to look into wherever his visor is.

“Yeah, cyar’ika?” Din responds, his modulated voice so soft it almost doesn’t pass through his modulator.

“Can I... is it okay if I...” you find it hard to spit out the words, but when you finally find the sides of his helmet, you tap your fingers against the metal ridges, clueing him into what you want.

Din doesn’t hesitate to oblige, and you can feel the metal slipping from underneath your fingers as a quiet hiss is heard. Then, the sound of metal-upon-metal as he sets the beskar on the floor, instead taking your wrists and urging your hands upon his face. You feel the skin there, somehow so soft—aside from the presence of his stubble—and map out his features in your mind. Just the simple touch is enough to cause your hands to stop trembling, your heart only racing from amazement and affection that you wish to thrust off your chest. But overwhelming Din isn’t what you’re seeking.

“Thank you,” you breathe, running the backs of your fingers down his cheek. You can hear a breath hitch in his throat at the intimate gesture. “Thank you for trusting me—and for saving me.”

“You don’t need saving,” Din assures you once he catches his breath, urging you back into his chest. “All you need is support. I’m more than willing to provide you with it.” He then urges you to rest against his chest again, starting to lay back with you. “Now rest, cyare.”

You can feel your heart continuing to leap in your chest as he pulls you further into his arms, your head now leaning completely against his chest as you lay together. But, you can’t sleep just yet—you feel a weight on your chest that has to come off, now, a confession that’s been haunting you day and night that needs to meet the open air. “Din—,” you start, lifting your face to meet his.

In the dark, you neglect to remember where his face may be, and you can feel your nose brush against his as your lips do the same. You freeze in place, your heart thudding so loudly in your chest that you’re afraid Din can feel it. Your hand stalls where it’s been on his chest—and you can feel that his heart is racing just as quickly as his own.

After a few moments where neither one of you pull any farther away, you begin to gravitate back towards each other. It’s Din who tries to initiate, his lips soft and even more welcoming than you’d imagined them to be as he places the most delicate of kisses upon your mouth. He pulls away much sooner than you’d like, evidently hesitant to make sure the action’s okay.

That’s when you become the one to pull him back to yourself, your hands managing to find the sides of his face even in the dark as you kiss him with all the words you haven’t been able to speak yet. Din does the same, making your heart absolutely burst in your chest as pull him impossibly closer. You break away with breaths heavy yet satisfied—though that doesn’t stop you, your lips admiring the parts of his face you can’t see, trailing over the stubble on his jaw and down his neck. Even if you can’t find the words to say, you’ll try to show him.

And he seems to get the message from the way he breathes the word in his tongue so beautifully, nearly knocking the air from your lungs as you feel the depth of them in your chest. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

You smile against the warm skin of his neck, lifting your face to come close to his even in the dark as you respond. “I love you, too.” You kiss him once more before speaking one more time. “Thank you for that also.”

Din chuckles at that, bringing your mouth back to his to begin further proving to you the truth of his words just as you’ve tried to show him.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Two

A/N: I really wanted to have this up earlier today but this headache had other plans. Anyways, not much to say here except... meet Navina! 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: Navina Harsa has been on her own for a long time, and she has done whatever she’s needed to in order to survive. From time to time that means forsaking the teachings, The Way of her people. But there is one thing that she will never do, and that is forsake her family- even if they’re gone. 

Word Count: 4.8k 

Warning: language

Yavin 4.   

Navina Harsa leaned against the window of the transport shuttle as the destination came into view. Clouds swirled in wispy white clusters, parting to reveal the marbled green and blue hues that the dense foliage and deep, clear water painted across the moon’s surface. Quiet gasps from the row behind her gave those passengers away as first time visitors to the remote jungle moon, the three young children chattering excitedly about all the things that their parents must have told them in the weeks leading up to their trip. Navina tried to put herself in their shoes, imagining what it would be like to see Yavin 4 for the first time all over again. But while the family of travelers was choosing this location for a vacation, her own reason for visiting was vastly different. And she had seen it many times. It is beautiful, though. 

As the shuttle neared the docking zone, the landscape and vegetation became more defined, and she could make out the massive ziggurat that poked up from the trees. Neither centuries of erosion, nor years of war and conflict had damaged the structures that still loomed like imposing stone giants over the land.

 “You can see them from anywhere you are on the ground,” the man behind her was telling his children. “If you think they’re big now,” she glanced back in time to catch him tapping the youngest boy on the nose with the tip of his finger. “Just wait until we get up close.” He curved his other arm around one of the older two, corralling the three of them close to the window. The children giggled excitedly, their parents exchanging warm smiles over their heads as they continued to buzz with questions and exclamations. 

Navina clamped her eyes shut and faced front, blinking them open again when she was sure she’d only see the back of the seat in front of her. She stared at the bright red material, a bittersweet ache opening in her chest. Another year. Her right hand came up to her throat, fingers digging beneath her dark gray shawl for the leather cord she wore around her neck. Sliding it between her thumb and index finger, she felt for the cool metal pendant, wrapping it in her palm. Squeezing until the pointed tusks of the carved mythosaur poked into her flesh, she closed her eyes once more, inhaling deeply through her nose. 

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, aliit. 

She held her breath, letting that ache deepen for a few seconds as the three faces she would never forget appeared in her memory. Her mother’s sharp, shining eyes. The strength in her father’s calm smile. The little one, sound asleep and dreaming. You never left, because I carry you with me. Exhaling slowly, she released her grip on the pendant, the ache receding like she knew it would, and she tucked it back beneath the cowl of her shawl. Nothing can truly separate us. Hand falling back to her lap, she turned to look out the window once more as the Star Commuter began its final descent towards the docking platforms. Bending down, she scooped up the strap of her shoulder bag and slung it across her body, the contents clanging together as she adjusted its weight and readied herself to disembark.  

An overhead speaker chimed before a cheerful pre-recorded voice rang out in the cabin. “Welcome to Yavin 4. Please be sure that you have all of your belongings before departing the ship. Passengers traveling with droids may claim them at the station hub once we have touched down. We thank you for choosing to fly with us, and hope that you enjoy your stay.” 

There was further information regarding booking return passage from the moon, but Navina tuned it out. She wouldn’t be leaving Yavin 4 the same way that she arrived. And if all goes according to plan I’ll never have to shuttle hop again. Standing as the craft hovered closer to the platform, she reached for the handle above her head, using it to steady herself as the shuttle jerked into a parked position. Once the floor had stopped shuddering beneath her boots, and the children in the row behind her had all dramatically tumbled from their seats, Navina let go of the handle and pulled her hood up, tucking her long woven braid into it. As the cabin doors opened and the rest of the passengers fumbled to gather their belongings, she filed quickly past them and out into the thick, humid air. 

Back again. 

She wasn’t born here, so it technically wasn’t her home. But it was the closest thing that she had to one. Her parents had been forced to leave Mandalore when she was only a few months old, settling on Concordia with the rest of the warrior clans. They lived there as a family for almost six years, but she had no real memory of it, couldn’t conjure more in her mind than what she’d been told. Even the memories of the night that they left were scarce and came to her in pieces- Purple light. Deep voices. The frenzied feeling of being followed. She remembered being tired, wanting to sleep, and finally being able to, curling up with the baby and both of them drifting off quickly. Her parents explained as best as they could why they had had to leave, why they’d chosen to do they things that they had, and that explanation evolved to include more as she grew older. Even though she understood it, none of what they told her helped her to remember a home before they one they’d made there in the jungle caves of Yavin 4. 

They’d only spent four years here, completely secluded, just the four of them, but she could recall almost every second. Training with her parents, learning how to fight among the wide, flat leaves and vibrant flowers, splashing in the shallows at the base of the waterfall with the little one as her parents watched, humming rhymes for him as he cooed and laughed. She remembered running through the tunnels that connected their cavern to the network of others, her own voice echoing off the walls as she practiced words she’d heard her parents say: morut'yc, cyar'ika, gra'tua. The language was harsh, hard to learn and harder to speak, but she remembered the pride that she felt when her pronunciation was correct, or if she used a word or phrase properly. Her mother’s pewter eyes would flash and her father would nod. 

“This is the Way, Ina’ika,” her mother would always end every lesson, whether it was on weapons or traditions, with the words that every Mandalorian had heard thousands of times.  

This is the Way. 

But was she a true Mandalorian? It was something she struggled with for years now. Her parents were gone. She had no clan, no tribe, no one to swear allegiance or loyalty or anything at all to. She’d given up on wearing her armor at all times when several dire situations had demanded that she do so, donning it only when necessary. It’s not even my armor. Shrugging, she reached across her chest to pull the strap higher up on her shoulder. Had she grown up among other clans like her parents did, she would have been given her own armor as soon as she started training. When she reached a certain age she would have had the chance to swear the Creed and pledge herself to the Way of the Mandalore, and she would have been presented with her first custom piece of beskar armor- usually a helmet, sometimes a chestplate. Instead she carried her mother’s helmet, a pair of vambraces that she relieved a black market trader of, both too big for her wrists and needing extra padding so they wouldn’t slip when she used them, and a thin chestplate and shoulder pauldrons that had been salvaged from troopers during the Clone Wars and coated in several layers of durasteel. Beskar armor was impossible to come by, a Mandalorian armorer willing to smith something for a vagabond wearing mismatched steel even more difficult to find. She’d done her best to collect what she could. But it wasn’t beskar, aside from the helmet, and it wasn’t hers. 

She’d called herself a bounty hunter and a pilot, a courtesan, a killer, a thief, a smuggler, a spice runner and a stowaway, and she’d done so without pause because at some point she had been all of those things, often a few of them at once. She hesitated, though, when it came to calling herself Mandalorian. I’ve broken almost every code there is to break. As much as she tried to keep the traditions and beliefs that her parents had instilled in her, she knew that for every action she took to walk the Way, she had taken at least one in direct opposition with it. Not to mention the things that she had planned. I doubt destroying the Darksaber counts as rallying to the cause of the Mand’alor.   

The stone path beneath her feet gave way to the springy jungle moss that covered the ground as she navigated her way through the station hub, the only place on Yavin 4 that could be considered remotely crowded, and she forced such violent thoughts from her mind. Not here. For the last eighteen years, every move she made or job she took was influenced by one of three goals: survival, avenging the deaths of her family, or gaining information on the most infamous weapon in Mandalore’s history- specifically where she could find it, and how it could be obliterated. In her mind, it was just another thing that stood in the way of her people ever striking a balance, just another reason for Mandalorians to stay hidden or for clans to clash with one another instead of standing strong together. It unified them once...but it didn’t last. Any totem of power would attract corruption, she was sure of it, and that’s what the Darksaber was.  

She’d never seen it herself, only imagining the way that the onyx blade would crackle to life, slicing through the air in swaths of glowing obsidian light. The stories that her parents had told her, the scraps of information that she was able to collect through the years were all she had to build her idea of the weapon on. But she was certain that she’d know it when she saw it, even if her imagination was off base. She exited the hub, something her father had once said about the sword tumbling to the forefront of her memory. “All the misuse… all the times it fell into the wrong hands… all that fear. There’s too much anger, too much hatred. The blade is imbued with it now. No one is strong enough to resist it anymore.” He didn’t believe that it could ever be used for good again- and certainly not if someone who’d been hardened and hollowed out by pain and loss and wrath were to lay claim on it. Someone like-

Shaking her head, Navina tried to clear her mind of the Darksaber and the emotions that it stirred in her. That’s not why I’m here. Her search for the blade, like her search for those who had betrayed her family, consumed most of her day to day thoughts and dictated almost every move she made or job she took. The leads she found determined where she travelled and how long she stayed there, chose her allies for her and taught her who her enemies were. But this trip was different. Her annual trip to Yavin 4 had nothing to do with her self-assigned mission. This is for them...and for me.   

Behind her, the family from the shuttle was heading towards the Ruins, where a small camp was set up with accommodations for vacationers. The children skipped and jumped, practically tripping over one another with excitement now that they had made it to their destination and no longer had to sit still on the shuttle. A sad but wistful smile curved up the side of her mouth as she cast one last glance at the parents and their young ones. They’ll have fun here. Turning away from them, she headed instead for the thick underbrush of the rainforest. Pushing a leaf the size of an astromech droid out of her way, she slipped between the branches and out of site.  

It was easier to push the Darksaber from her thoughts once the greenery had swallowed her, the air still and heavy with the heat, but fresh and clean and noticeably sweeter than it was closer to the hub’s docking platform. But before she could fully appreciate the comfort of being back in the only place she’d ever called home, a bright flash of light, this one amethyst, cut through her memory, blinding her. Suddenly, Navina recalled the face of the stranger that her family had encountered the night they left Concordia, his eyes calm but dark, the storm inside them contained but present. “Our enemies think that we are enemies.” His deep voice came back to her easily, more clear than it ever had before. “But perhaps more importantly, so do our allies.” The man had handed something small to her mother before passing a larger bundle to her father, and then within seconds he’d vanished.

The purple light flashed sharply in her mind once more, clearing the memory as quickly as it had assaulted her. Navina gasped, doubling over to brace her hands on her knees while she steadied her breathing again. That was… It’s never been that clear before, I… She inhaled shakily, straightening up and removing the hood from her head. Her long black braid tumbled free, smaller blue braids woven throughout it, and she pushed a silvery blue strand back behind her ear. I could never remember what he said, that man but now... She concentrated on his words, trying to etch them into her brain, desperate to find and keep any of the lost pieces of the puzzle she was trying to fit together. 

“Our enemies think that we are enemies.” Speaking the words out loud, she started walking once more, her steps sure and confident despite the twisted roots and thorny vines that poked up from the ground. Navina knew each rock and root of these parts like the back of her hand, no matter how much new growth there was between now and her last visit. Feet finding the route for her, she continued to focus on the memory. He wasn’t...that man, he wasn’t  a Mandalorian. That part seemed clear. But then… She chewed her bottom lip and shifted the strap of her bag, her armor knocking together and hitting her hip as she hopped a fallen massassi trunk. Then who was he? 

Narrowing her eyes, she dug out the pendant that she wore around her neck again, this time pulling it out from under her shawl. Since she was alone it was safe to reveal the ancient symbol without giving herself away. Opening her palm, she stared down at the shiny silver skull, the faceted gem at the heart of the piece shining through the Mythosaur’s carved eyes. Sometimes, when the light reflected off the gem that was encased within her mother’s necklace, it appeared to be a soft purple color. Here, on the forest floor where only small patches of filtered greenish sunlight made it through the canopy, the gem seemed colorless. She sighed, dropping the pendant and letting it bounce against her chest. Who was he, and why am I remembering this now? 

Immediately, the same hopeful flicker in her heart that had woken her from a dream a few nights prior came back, stronger this time.  Maybe it means I’ll see them again… My father and-

“Well look what the loth-cat dragged in.”  

A voice from her left broke her from her wishful thinking. Grabbing for the blaster that was hidden beneath her shawl, she whipped it from the holster strapped to her upper thigh. In one swift spin she pointed her weapon in the direction of the speaker before the familiarity in his tone registered. Wait, it’s-

“Woah, woah, woah there, Nav, take it easy, it’s just-” 

“Firo!” She lowered her weapon, sliding it back into its holster as she sighed heavily. “Are you kriffing crazy? I could have shot you!” 

“So,” Her friend’s green-gold eyes brightened, a smirk pulling his mouth crookedly up the side of one bearded cheek as he ignored her half-sincere outrage. “You didn’t know I was standing here?” He leaned casually against the nearest tree, arms crossed over his chest and one knee bent to rest his boot sole against the bark behind him. 

“That wasn’t smart, Firo.” Navina rolled her eyes and made her way closer as the man fought to hold back his laughter, his long sandy brown hair falling in his face.  

Shaking the strands away from his forehead, he blinked rapidly, each exaggerated bat of his lashes seeming to pump more sarcasm into his words. “You mean I,” he gestured to himself with his thumbs, hands clad in maroon leather fingerless flight gloves, “got the drop on you?” He extended both pointer fingers in her direction then, that same stubborn piece of hair flopping between his eyes again. 

Technically, yes, but I was… distracted. She clicked her tongue and stepped over a boulder, half buried and covered in spongy green moss and bright orange mushrooms. “You need a haircut, Firo, you look like an overgrown bantha.”

“Deflecting, Harsa?” He pushed off from the tree with one foot and shoved his sleeves up his forearms. “Sounds to me like you’re deflecting.”  He’s not gonna let this go. The bandolier that he insisted on wearing, even though it was too loose for his thin frame, fell down his shoulder and he reached across himself to fix it. “It sounds to me, like you don’t want to admit that I-” 

“Oh dank farrik, fine. Yes. Yes, you got the drop on me.” Navina played into his gloating like she knew he wanted her to, lacing her own words with playful sarcasm. “So look out, Bounty Hunters of the Outer Rim, because Firostian Ottabok is going to claim all the highest paying pucks for himself.” 

His grin finally grew too large for his face, and it burst into an open mouthed laugh. “Damn, Nav, it’s good to see you.” Throwing his arms around her, he pulled her into a tight hug and she smiled against his chest. Despite his lanky limbs and bony elbows, Firo’s hold on her was strong and secure. Navina returned it with equal force, sliding her arms under his to wrap them around his body.   

“It’s good to see you too, scoundrel.” She pulled away and shoved that same piece of hair away from Firo’s face with two fingers. “But what are you doing out here? We always meet at the caves.” Her eyebrows came together in concern as she scanned his face for any of his tells. He’s not looking away or scratching his nose, so…  “You didn’t run into any trouble, did you?”  

“Me? In trouble? He blew out a puff of air and waved one hand, fingers spread wide. “Why are you always so quick to assume I’m in trouble?” Navina arched one eyebrow and stared up at him. Do you really want me to- “You know what?” He slung one arm around her shoulder and urged her to start walking again. “Don’t answer that.” She laughed, falling into step with him as they headed toward the cavern’s opening. Yeah, that’s what I thought.    

Navina and Firo had gotten each other into and out of about as much trouble as two outlaws could over the past ten years. If she was keeping track though, she had a strong feeling that the scales would tip slightly more in his direction than hers. There had been the time she convinced a fellow bounty hunter to trade a captured Firo for the three pucks she had on her, and the time she corrected his Twi’leki translation during a deal, diffusing an already heated situation before it could become more volatile. They’d only met in the first place because his ship had crash landed on Yavin 4, and he needed to offload and hide the contraband cargo he was carrying before whoever it was that shot him down found it or him- she was never sure which outcome would have been worse because luckily, neither had happened. She had found him instead.

The network of tunnels and caves deep within the jungle that had kept her family safe for years had also proven to be the perfect place for a smuggler to stash his goods. If Navina hadn’t shown up a few days later for her annual visit, he’d have gone completely undetected, possibly for years. She may have never found him at all. But that’s not how it went. Navina smiled to herself every time she recalled that day. Attacking on instinct, it had taken almost no time at all for her to see that this intruder was no trained fighter. She had him disarmed and pinned with his then hairless cheek pressed to the cool stone wall as she clasped his wrist behind his back in one hand, his blaster in the other. A severely muffled “Um… I can explain everything,” had been the first words he’d ever said to her, and they had set the tone for a friendship that she wouldn’t trade for all the credits that ever passed through Imperial hands. 

“Alright then,” she tilted her chin up to peer at her taller companion. “If you’re not being followed and there’s no trouble to worry about?” She paused, giving him one last chance to come clean. Laughing, he just shook his head. “Why didn’t you stick to the plan? I come to you, that’s how it’s always been.” 

“Yeah,” another burst of laughter pushed past his lips. “Ever since the first time, right?” He reached up with the arm that was still around her shoulders, tugging at her braid. That earned him a quick smack in the gut from the back of her hand, only causing more rumbling chuckles to erupt.

“And you were lucky it was me that found you, bantha brain, and not whoever it was that you ticked off.” Just like I was lucky that Firo found me when… Absently, the hand she’d just hit him with fell to her waist, where beneath her clothing a long jagged scar crossed her body. Before a chill could settle in her bones, Firo’s warm grin poked dimples into his cheeks and  he swiveled his head down to look at her. Why does he look so kriffing happy? She was only slightly suspicious of her friend’s behavior though, his elevated mood and obvious excitement almost contagious. 

The gold flecks that shot through his green eyes shone as his cheeks rose up into them with his smile. “This time I...have something for you.” 

They were nearly there. Navina could see the brighter shafts of light coming through the trees and bushes as they thinned out closer to the cave mouth. “You have something for me?” She scrunched her face up questioningly. “What does that- why couldn’t you just...give it to me when I got there? What’s-”

“Because,” they climbed over a fallen tree in unison, the bottoms of their boots crunching on small gravelly rocks. “You need to see it, and it’s too dark down there.” 

Finally reaching the entrance to their hideaway- to my...my home- Firo stepped away from her and dug something out of the back pocket of his brown pants. Navina slung the bag off her shoulder, setting it down at her feet in a clatter of metal. She watched closely as he brought the leather wrapped object between the two of them. What does he have? 

“I found this two...no, three nights ago. When I first landed.” Squinting, she followed his fingers as they slipped under the flap of leather to uncover her gift. “Don’t know how I found it or why or…” He shook his head, the excitement still in his expression. “But as soon as I got down into the cave, soon as I was ready to settle in for the night? Something caught my eye and-” 

Navina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as he revealed his surprise. “Firo… is that?” Eyes widening, she let her hand fall away from her lips to reach out for the small blade that he held in his hands. Asking questions was some kind of default setting that her mind had scrambled to out of pure shock. She knew without a shadow of a doubt what she was looking at. That’s a beskar kal… The short dagger’s hexagon-shaped blade glinted dark silver in the light as Firo handed it to her. Her heart thudded heavily against her ribs as her left hand closed around the grip, the fingertips of her right hand tracing the rectangular cut out that ran the length of the small but lethal blade. But these markings… Looking closer, she sucked in another breath. “Firo...this was,” tearing her eyes from the dagger was difficult, but she did so to look up at him. “This belonged to my father.” 

The shriek-hawk symbol that was engraved near the handle alone wouldn’t have identified this particular kal as her father’s. It was the addition of her mother’s clan’s signet, along with the tiny carved lettering that she could actually remember her father etching into the Mandalorian steel. Ina’ika.

“This will be yours one day, it’s only right that your name is added.”  His rich voice echoed in her memory, punctuated by the scratching and clanging of his tools, the little sparks flying from the beskar mesmerizing her. 

“Firo, I,” her eyes fell back to the dagger in her hands. “I never thought I’d see this again.” Twenty-three years. She hadn’t seen her father in Twenty-three years, and while she knew her mother was gone, she had never known for sure what had happened to her father. To my father or… But another thought sliced through, bringing with it a rush of hope that she knew was dangerous but couldn’t stop from flooding her anyway. “Firo, do you think that means… Do you think he was here? Recently?” The two of them had been back to Yavin countless times, and neither of them had ever found the blade. So why now? How? 

“Hey, Nav, I...I dunno about… if your dad was- when the last time he was here was or…”Firo lowered his eyes so that he’d intercept hers. “I know that it belongs with you. And I knew you’d be happy to have it back. That’s all I-” 

She didn’t let him finish though, launching herself at him in another forceful hug and being careful not to carve him up with her father’s dagger. “I know. I know you don’t know if he…” she sighed. I may have lost my family but… She pulled away then, brushing a tear away before she let it fully form. “Thank you, Firo.” 

He smiled, the muscles in his face far more familiar with that formation than any other. “You’re welcome, Nav.” Not letting the moment become more emotional than he knew she’d be comfortable with, he picked up her bag and shouldered it. “Now, come on. We’ve got some...things to discuss.” 

The mischief was back in his voice as Navina secured the kal in the inside pocket of her shawl. “Oh do we? What kind of things, trouble?” 

“Well,” he began as they ducked to enter the cavern. “You said you needed a ship, right?” Navina confirmed, eyeing him with a sideways glance. “Well. Word is that the scraps of Imperial garbage that were stationed on Nevarro left in a big hurry.” Navina grinned, already liking where this was going. “Such a hurry,” Firo continued with a wink, “that they left some of their...equipment behind.”

“What a shame,” she answered. “All those ships just...sitting there with no one to fly them.” 

“We really should do something about it, shouldn’t we?” 

We should. 

Not only would she and Firo both love to steal from the Empire, it would solve her transportation problem, and possibly get her closer to the information she’d been chasing. Whatever had caused the Empire to leave Nevarro in such a rush… Navina was sure that it had something to do with other Mandalorians. 

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Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :) 

tags: @something-tofightfor​​ @alraedesigns​​ @pheedraws​​ @valkblue​​ @malionnes​​ @gollyderek​

[generalfoolish]

Mirshmure’cya

Mirshmure’cya: Keldabe kiss, headbutt

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: PIV (unprotected, which you should not do), no clear consent (but consensual), grief mentions, love confessions

Word count: ~1.2K

Pairing:Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians head to Concordia

A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. There's some spicy time, this time. Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Chaaj'miit | Pel’tigaan

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Back on the crest, shooting through space to an unknown location, the stale air felt like a punishment. All you had wanted was to be back on the move, and now, lightyears away from that karking swamp you actually missed it. You hadn’t told Din, of course.

He hadn’t said anything once you had climbed into the Crest, and his silence was suffocating this time. This time it was your fault. This time there was no doubt, there was no indecision, there was no illusion. You had pushed him away. Since it was up to you to fix it, you had been trying to think through an apology.

You sighed heavily, knowing you couldn’t delay any longer. If the air got any stuffier, you might throw yourself out into the dead of space. You took the rungs to the cabin as slowly as you could muster, and exhaled at the top to let Din know you were in his space now. He didn’t acknowledge you at all, which didn’t bode well.

You sat down heavily into the co-pilot’s chair, and drummed your fingers against your thigh, willing up the courage to say something to him. He beat you to the punch.

“I didn’t sleep until we got to Dagobah. And even then...I couldn’t leave you.” You heard him swallow heavily, but he kept his eyes trained on hyperspace. The autopilot was on, so you watched him fidget his hands as he worked out what to say.

“I know...I mean you know wh-I’m not sure what to say. I’m so sorry that I let it get that bad, mesh’la. I thought I lost you. I...I’m still not sure I haven’t.” You heard his deep sigh, and watched the muscles in his back tense as he turned to face you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and for the first time, you noticed how tired he looked. You hated yourself. You had put this off, when he thought you blamed him.

“Oh Din, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” You took one of his hands, and he left it limp in your grasp. His small smile nearly broke you in half.

“You did. You had to. You were right, though. It was my fault. I did try to keep you there out of guilt. I don’t know what I would do without you. I’m not sure I even know how to live without you.” The confession weighed heavily on you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears welling back to their ducts.

“I know. I feel the same,” You told him, a sad smile playing on your lips. “But you have to trust that I’ll be more careful. That we’ll be safe.” He chuckled softly, and returned the squeeze to your hand, finally.

“It isn’t that simple.” You opened your mouth to argue, and he held a finger up. “The new coordinates are on Concordia.” You groaned, and he chuckled again in agreement.

“We’re hurtling through hyperspace towards the woman that knows you have the dark saber and is hellbent on getting it back?” He nodded somberly. “Okay, that could be an issue.” You sat with it for a moment, and wondered if you couldn’t use it to your advantage.

“We should meet Bo-Katan head on, then. You’ve lost the dark saber in a duel, right? You spared Moff Gideon, and this adversary did the same.” He paused thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure how we pull that off. Who was the adversary?” You bit your lip as you thought, and you heard Din sharply inhale. You darted your eyes to his, and you didn’t miss how dark they were with hunger. You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Without hesitation he pulled you closer, practically yanking you onto his lap, and deepened the kiss. His tongue curled around yours, and you felt his groans vibrate your throat. His hands were all over you, all at once.

It was a savagery you hadn’t experienced, and you knew it was born from his lapse of control. He had been so careful for so long, and his tightly coiled restraint had snapped. He yanked your pants down, pulled himself out of his pants, and was in you before you could catch your breath. He thrusted into you harshly, and came quickly with a bite on your shoulder. He lathed the spot lazily, and laughed lightly.

“Sorry, mesh’la. It’s been sometime.” You kissed him, and nuzzled into his shoulder. He slipped you off of him, and pulled his pants back up. He grabbed a clean rag from under the control panel and took his time cleaning you off, before taking your hand and leading you to the quarters you shared. He looked at you, those deep eyes pleading, and asked to taste you. You couldn't deny him. You were learning you might not be able to deny Din Djarin anything.

~~

Your beskar fit you snugly, exactly the way it was made, and it felt comforting after having it off for so long. The metal was scorched where you’d been hit, the black paint burnt and peeling. You had scratched at the patch on your side until it was larger and more noticeable, before you had given up. The paint you had labored over for so long was only barely hanging on. The fights and skirmishes you and Din had encountered had left the paint scratched and scored.

Beside you, reflecting light, Din gleamed in his armor. His broad form was intimidating enough, but decked out in beskar he resembled a tank. You had seen informants, and even targets, yield after taking him in. You thought if the roles were reversed you’d do the same. You knew that Din cared for you, probably loved you. But, in an instant, he could physically end you. He had such raw strength and power. It worried you, but it also soothed you.

He was coming up to Concordia, Mandalore’s moon. An old mining site for mandalorians, the moon was mostly abandoned after The Purge. You had a suspicion that Bo-Katan would have set up a station on Concordia, and was likely keeping tags of every ship that entered the system. Of course, Din had to have gotten the exact same kind of ship, and Bo-Katan would likely have any Crest flagged. It would be tricky trying to sneak past her, assuming she was around.

“We can just skip this one.” Din told you softly, still above the atmosphere. You shook your head.

“We can’t. Just like you can’t run from her forever.” He nodded back, and began the descent. It was a smooth entry, which always surprised you, since Din didn’t fly with an astromech. He always amazed you with the ease in which he did many things.

When the ship was on the ground, and you were standing in front of the ramp door, Din spun you to face him, his visor met yours, and he dipped to rest his forehead on yours.

“Whatever happens,” he told you. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

translation: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you

tagged: @charlispersonallyhell @magikfanatic

[ryder-s-block]

Jaig Eyes (Ch 53)

Jaig Eyes (53/?)

Summary:

Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she’s involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?

————————-

Chapter Fifty-Three: Echo

We were camped out somewhere in the old passages that were built into the natural formations of Lola Sayu, watching the droids search frantically for us. Then again, they’d destroyed our only escape. How frantic were they really?

In their minds, they’d won.

And maybe they had.

I glanced up from where I sat amongst the jagged rocks, seeing Fives had taken a lookout position far away from our group. He stood rigidly at attention, but I could feel the inner battle he was fighting. He was trained to fight. Trained to die. And to move on when his brothers fell.

The squad he’d lost when he was just a young clone...that was hard. They travelled with him in his memory forever.

But Echo? Echo was his closest friend. I always saw them as a pair, rather than two individuals. More like twins than mere brothers.

And now he was gone. Fives was the last of his original squadron. My heart pulled at the notion that Fives may have to go back to Kamino one day and face 99 again. He’d have to see 99’s face fall when he realizes even more of his brothers are gone.

My gaze flicked sideways as Rex moved past me to stand below where Fives was camped. He was fighting his own grief, but as a leader, he knew how to hide it better than Fives. Still, I felt his mind trying to shove away his sadness endlessly. Rex had been close to Echo, as he was with Fives and Cody. They used to create battle plans together for fun.

Fives gave Rex a thumbs up without really looking at him. He was trying to keep himself steady. Looking at us wouldn’t help. Rex nodded, knowing Fives couldn’t see him, before returning to the Jedi, who were trying to figure out how the rest of us were going to survive this.

“We’ll need to hold out until the Council sends a ship,” Kenobi expressed, knowing his call for help to the Jedi was our last hope of escape.

“Not a problem,” Piell responded. “We’ve beaten them once, we’ll beat them again.”

“When did we beat them before?” I muttered to myself, shifting on the stones. Fives nearly made me jump in my hazey grief as he appeared beside me, having emerged from his lookout point.

“This landscape is almost impossible to cross.” His voice sounded sad. Negative. Hopeless. “How are we going to get to the rendezvous point?” I frowned at him, trying to shield myself from the grief pouring off him in waves.

“That is the trap of the Citadel,” Obi-wan said darkly. “It was designed so that it would be almost impossible for fugitives to get off the surface, even if they escaped the tower.”

“And even if they are a Jedi,” I added in a hushed tone, trying to curb the emotions bubbling up inside myself. No one seemed to hear me but Fives and Rex, but neither reacted visually other than a glance. Still, I felt their fear that they tried to suppress. 

As well as a recklessness that billowed off of those that had just lost something dear--something that worried me. It was that type of energy that usually got people killed.

“How lucky we’re not just any fugitives,” Anakin added with a determined grin. Still, beneath it all...I felt his own sadness over losing Echo. He, unlike some of the other Jedi I’d met, felt an attachment to the clones. This was against their Code, of course, but Anakin had never really been one to follow it well anyways.

“I hope you’re right,” Piell said gravely, giving me a glance before turning to walk off with the others. 

I followed, but paused as I felt the Force ripple. Pivoting, I saw Fives had fallen to the back of the group and was looking back in the direction we’d come--the hangar. Where he’d lost his brother. I moved to approach him, but felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t,” Rex said gently when I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Now isn’t the time for him to grieve.”

I frowned. “He just lost his brother. How can you expect--”

“We all lost a brother,” Rex said harshly before quieting. I let it slide. I could feel the pain he was suppressing. “But we have a mission right now.”

I watched the captain for a moment, flipping over the emotions that poured out from both of us. Confusion. Sadness. Determination. Anger. Resignation.

“We all grieve differently, Rex,” I said softly as I turned to walk with him, Fives finally trailing behind after a final glance. “That even applies to clones.”

“We were trained to handle this. Designed for it.”

My heart dropped at his words. They were true...but they hurt. They were wrong. “No one is designed for death,” I whispered fiercely, turning on my heel abruptly. “No matter what anyone tells us.”

Rex was startled at my fierce words. Startled enough that he couldn’t stop me from walking back to fall in line with Fives. The ARC trooper didn’t even acknowledge me as I fell into step with him, taking in the prominent difference in height. I wasn’t short, by any means, but I wasn’t a tree either.

The clones, like their DNA source, rose to a proud 6 foot, give or take a genetic tweak in inches here and there. While that was only a few inches above me, Fives’ shoulder pauldrons made him look even taller and broader. I peered up at his expressionless helmet, feeling the turmoil that resided inside.

Breathing slowly out my nose, I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“If you’re trying to check on me,” he said quietly, but curtly. “I’ll be fine. He died with honor.”

I swallowed, shaking my head, but letting silence fall between us. As we walked, my mind drifted to something Jango had taught me once. With a deep breath, I began to mutter in Mando’a, as I’d been taught by Jango.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar ky’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” Fives nearly stumbled at my words. I said them lightly, but I felt others listening. It was pretty quiet on the planet, apart from the alarms from the Citadel. The language was easily recognized by those present, too, even if the Jedi didn’t know what it meant.

Fives cleared his throat next to me, but said nothing. So I started the list I recited to myself softly every night before sleeping.

“Joi. Tal, Silais, Seku.” Fives glanced at me as I spoke softly. Even Rex glanced over his shoulder at me. I continued. “Xiann, Arica, Attanni, Talon. Amiru. Yumi. Unnreeti. Epha. Alexxi.” I swallowed thickly. The list wasn’t one I shared with anyone. Now many people were hearing it. “Jango. Zuri. Umpar. Judai.” Glancing sideways at my friend, I closed my mental doors to keep from being overwhelmed by the reactions of the clones. “Longshot. Echo.”

I couldn’t see Fives’ face. In reality, he was likely glad to have the visor blocking his expression. Considering I was barely suppressing the tears in my eyes, he was likely letting them flow beneath his helmet.

Still, he glanced down before swallowing. I was met with a gentle chorus of “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” from not only Fives, but Rex, Cody, and all the other clones. It surprised the Jedi present, but I could feel the gratitude from my friend.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered as we slowed, nearing what looked like a magma field. Fives looked sideways at me before slowly touching my shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Thank you, vod,” he said as quietly as I had, looking my in the eye, despite the helmet. My eyes widened at his term, my automatic response being to deny my sisterhood to the clones. He stopped me with another squeeze. “Stop. You’re family. To all of us.” He tilted his head slightly, a spark of humor coming back into his Force signature. “Well, maybe you’re not a sister for all of us.”

He pushed my shoulder gently before looking meaningfully at Rex’s back as he moved forward after the Jedi’s call. I chewed my cheek, but couldn’t fight the smirk and roll of my eyes. It was nice to know that other people noticed how Rex felt...even if it made it even more dangerous.

Of all the people to know, though...Fives certainly was one of the best. Besides, it wasn’t like Anakin and Padme weren’t at least a little privy to my attraction with Rex.

I fell in step with Obi-wan and Ahsoka as Rex and Fives ran ahead, scouting the next location we could take a quick rest.

“I’ll admit,” Tarkin said in front of us, where he walked beside Piell. “I’ve never heard a clone call an outsider family before.” He looked back at me with his beady eyes, earning a scowl from me.

“Well you’re clearly not hanging around with the right people,” I said back with ice in my voice, earning a hard look from Obi-wan.

“Losing Echo…” Anakin glanced away. “It will be hard on all the men, but Fives especially.” The Jedi glanced at me with a small, grateful smile. “I’m glad you could help him.” I smiled gently at Skywalker, giving him a nod.

“We’re clear,” Rex called back to us, holstering his pistols.

“What’s our next move?” Ahsoka asked as we maneuvered around the pits of hot lava. 

“We’re going to have to fight our way off this rock,” Anakin declared.

Obi-wan folded his hands behind his back. “Contact the Council. See when they plan to rescue us.”

“I’ll handle it,” Piell said with a frown--an expression I was beginning to think was his resting face. He turned to R2, who immediately brought up a holoprojection of Mace Windu.

“Master Piell,” the Jedi greeted. “It’s good to see you alive, my friend.”

“Likewise, Master Windu. Our escape route has been compromised and there are several squads of droids closing in on us.”

Anakin stepped forward. “When can we expect your arrival?”

“Master Plo is already en route,” Windu explained as Yoda entered the hologram.

“Gunships will arrive to evacuate you and your men, but do not delay,” Yoda explained in his gravelly voice. “Only a small window of opportunity, we shall have.” The hologram shifted to show a map of Lola Sayu’s landscape. “Your rendezvous point will be this island.”

Arrows flashed red over an island in the middle of magma. “Understood,” Piell responded formally.

“May the Force be with you,” Windu said before the transmission cut out.

I glanced around at the group before tensing at the sound of blaster fire. “Incoming!” Cody yelled from his post behind us. He immediately fired back, Rex and Fives jumping in, too. The Jedi around me ignited their sabers, but I genuinely didn’t feel threatened. I trusted the soldiers with my life.

Especially Fives, considering how much he wanted to blow every Separatist droid sky-high. I watched calmly as he threw a detonator, taking out the remainder of the commando squadron by dropping the ceiling on them.

As Rex helped his brother up, the Jedi put their unused blades away. “No doubt there’s more on the way,” Obi-wan sighed. “We need to move quickly.”

The group took off in a run this time, led by Piell and Kenobi. We certainly didn’t want to miss our rendezvous. If we did, we’d all be captured. The clones would all die. The Jedi would be tortured. I’d either be killed or forced to be Dooku’s apprentice.

While I doubted Tarkin’s ability to withstand torture, I knew Piell would die before giving his half of the information.

So at least our failure wouldn’t mean the immediate downfall of the Republic.

We raced out from the lava pits and up a jutting cliffside, Obi-wan and Piell stopping to look over the edge in the direction of our goal. We heard thumping and the mechanical whir of machines.

Rex drew his pistols, immediately firing at a spider droid that was crawling along the cliffside above us. Behind us, even more commandos were closing in. “They’re boxing us in,” Ahsoka yelled, glancing back at her master.

“Lock in your cables,” Anakin commanded, he and his former master doing just that to descend the cliffside. “R2, we need your droids to hold off the enemy as long as possible.” The droid beeped in response. “Good. Everybody, follow me!”

“This is sheer madness,” Tarkin expressed as he climbed onto Anakin’s back, an injured clone doing the same to Obi-wan. The Jedi began walking down the cliff with their loads, Rex putting his own tether in.

I ignited my lightsaber beside Ahsoka, earning a small grin from her as we took up positions blocking blaster fire. “I like your lightsaber,” the Togruta said between blocks. “How’d you get a crystal?”

I chuckled as we fought. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.” Behind us, Rex was carrying another clone down the cliff, followed closely by Piell. 

Ahsoka cast me a look. “I didn’t say that.”

I laughed at her, surprising myself with my carefree nature despite the dire situation. “It was my ancestor’s saber. The crystal was broken, but I mended it and made it my own.”

“You can fix a broken kyber?”

I cast the padawan a smile as R2 rolled past us, having given his commands to the reprogrammed battle droids. “I had a friend teach me how. It’s hard...but possible.” I glanced back, seeing the rest of the clones finding their way onto the tethers. “Go! I’m right behind you.”

She obeyed, knowing that the battle droids wouldn’t hold the Separatists long--there wasn’t time to argue. I kept my back to the tethers, blocking as many shots as I could. I heard Obi-wan yell from below, “Keep moving!” A spider droid crawled down the wall beside me. I grit my teeth, rushing forward under its fire to leap on top of it. Thrusting my saber down, I sliced it in two, the droid sparking as it fell to the ground. The reprogrammed droids were falling quickly, the last attempting to be heroic as he approached another spider droid.

“All for one, and one for AHHH!” It was destroyed quickly. While it was a droid, I appreciated its bravery at the moment.

A pair of screams turned my head back to the cliff, seeing one of the cables had been shot loose. “Osik,” I spit, before racing to the edge. Far below, two clones had fallen to their death. 

I looked away, deflecting more fire for as long as I could. Still, we were being blatantly overrun. And we were viciously outgunned. Ignoring the tether altogether, I leapt backwards off the cliff, letting the Force guide me.

I landed as the others were disconnecting from the wires, my blade still ignited. “Keep moving!” Anakin yelled, drawing his lightsaber beside me to help deflect the incoming shots. “Keep moving!” Cody rushed forward, taking the rifle from his fallen brother and shooting down two of the commandos above. 

While Skywalker and I provided cover, the other leapt down into the tunnels that ran beneath the surface. Cody went first, followed quickly by me and the Jedi. The tunnels would provide us with some cover, and maybe we’d even lose the squads of droids.

For now, at least.

The tunnel didn’t last long, spitting us out beside a river of lava quickly. “What if your Jedi friends are not there when we arrive?” Tarkin asked from behind Rex.

“Keep moving and you won’t have to worry about that, Tarkin,” Piell spit back from the front of the group.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes at the Captain, earning a grin from me. “Why did Master Piell have to share half the intel with that guy?” she asked softly to her master. “It’s like he’s not even grateful we rescued him.”

“Captain Tarkin feels the Jedi should be…” Anakin seemed like he was struggling to find the right words. “Removed from the burden of leading the war effort.”

I raised my brow curiously from behind them as the padawan responded, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Anakin allowed. “But we aren’t soldiers. We’re peacekeepers. The Jedi Code often prevents us from going far enough to achieve victory.”

“A rather simple point of view,” Obi-wan chastised gently.

“Either way,” Anakin argued. “He is a good captain.” 

Our group slowed at the high pitched sound of a howl, almost resembling a whistle. I knew that sound. “Did you hear that?” Ahsoka asked the group.

“Yes,” Piell scowled again. “We’re going to have company.” 

“We need to keep moving,” I cut in, glancing around. “Those howls belong to anoobas. I don’t really want to meet a whole pack of them today.”

Our band of fugitives walked a bit faster at my words. Still, we were all exhausted--running was out of the question for now. “How did you recognize the howl?” Ahsoka asked beside me.

“Remember Embo?” I responded, receiving an arched brow from her. “Yes, the one who was hired to kill Senator Amidala,” I answered her silent question. “He has an albino anooba named Marrok.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “I still don’t know how you can be friends with bounty hunters. We’ve worked with them before, but…” Her voice trailed off, making me chuckle.

“I mean, you’re friends with a bounty hunter,” I teased, holding my hands out. “Am I really so bad?”

She glanced at me with a small laugh. “You’re different.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “Well most bounty hunters don’t have lightsabers.” She smiled gently. “But you also chose to be a part of something...bigger. You fight for what you believe in.”

I hummed gently, looking forward again. “I was always taught to not listen to what other people say. To take the jobs that I believed in...even if the only thing I believed in was filling my pockets.”

“Who taught you that?”

“Jango.”

“Oh.” She looked away, feeling bad for asking with such sarcasm. 

“Ahsoka,” I sighed gently. “There are people who think this war is pointless. And there are people who wish they could help. But not everyone can. I’m just one of the few who have the ability, but none of the risks.”

“Risks? There’s plenty of those.”

“Sure, but not outside of this particular battle. My only threat is death or the death of those around me.” I looked sideways at her. “But I have nothing they can use against me. No family that is hiding away peacefully on some backwater planet. It’s just me.”

“What about Boba?”

“He’s in prison, Ahsoka.”

“Right.” 

We fell silent, and I knew she was uncomfortable. But then again...she started the conversation. I was just saying it how it was.

“You know, it’s not wise to argue with Master Piell,” Skywalker chuckled to Tarkin in front of Ahsoka and I. “It’s certainly not a good career move.”

“General Skywalker, I stand by my principles, no matter what,” Tarkin assured confidently. “Besides, I needn’t worry about my career. I’ve fallen into favor with the Chancellor.” Ah. Maybe that's why I didn’t like him. The Chancellor never failed to make me feel...uncomfortable. “He will support me.”

“Oh?” Anakin asked. “I happen to know the Chancellor quite well, myself.”

“Oh, really?” Tarkin prodded, obviously a bit disbelieving.

Anakin gave the captain a confident smirk. “Really.”

“Let’s keep moving,” Obi-wan cut in, feeling the tension between the two. “If we’re not at the rendezvous at the exact time, we’ll miss our window.”

We all stopped when we heard the high pitched howling again. “Those creatures are gaining,” Fives announced.

“If they’ve caught our scent,” Piell worried. “They’ll lead the droids right to us.”

“We’re gonna have to deal with them,” Anakin said, making me sigh slowly through my nose. This mission really was going all kinds of wrong.

“What about using this cave to surprise them?” Ahsoka proposed.

Piell nodded. “If we can get them to pass by, we can attack them from behind. But we need a distraction.”

Anakin grinned. “Leave that to me.” Behind him, Obi-wan cleared his throat meaningfully. “And Obi-wan, of course,” the Jedi added with a sheepish shrug.

“Okay,” Piell said, focusing us all again. “The rest of you, follow me.” I glanced at Obi-wan receiving an encouraging nod from the Jedi, before racing after the other group. Kenobi, Skywalker, and R2 continued on, while we settled down in the caves.

Now, all we had to do was wait.

--------------

MANDO’A

Ni su’cuyi, gar ky’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. -- “I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” --Daily rememberance of those that died, often followed by listing of lost loved ones.

Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la-- not gone, merely marching far away

Osik-- shit

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Twenty-One)

Summary: While hunting bounties for credits and information, (Y/N) and Din search the space station Glavis for what remains of the Mandalorian covert that fled Nevarro, and both unsuccessfully try their hardest not to miss their little friend.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Now that we’ve finally gotten a little Mando content, it’s time to catch up on the adventures of Din and Alor’ad! Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-One The Return of the Mandalorian and the Captain (Previous Chapter)

Out of all the planets and space stations they’d hunted their bounties on in recent months, Glavis was the one that (Y/N) despised the most. The artificial scenery was soulless and devoid of any color, almost reminding her of the surface levels of Corsucant she’d snuck into and helped evacuate during her time as a Rebellion smuggler, and the lack of natural sunlight frankly unnerved her. If Din wasn’t so hell-bent on finding his old Mandalorian covert after their forced exodus from Nevarro she would’ve pushed back when he suggested they pay the space station a visit, but while she didn’t fully agree with his plan to reunite with the religious zealots that indoctrinated children into following their rigid Way, she understood it was something important that the Mandalorian needed to do and she’d be right there by his side when he found them.

“That hunk of metal’s lucky that I love him so much,” (Y/N) grumbled under her breath as she crouched behind the roof’s ledge and peered into her blaster rifle’s scope at the front doors of Kaba Baiz’s meat packing plant. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

After several more minutes of watching and waiting, the familiar beskar-clad figure of the Mandalorian emerged from the building, a small blood-soaked sack clutched tightly in his fist. “All clear, you can come down now.”

“Copy, I’ll be right there.” She spoke into her comm, standing and slinging the blaster rifle’s strap over her shoulder before carefully climbing down the building’s exterior ladder to the ground below; as she hurried over to where he stood, the smile on her face fell when she realized that he was limping. “Oh, Maker…”

“Now I get why Force-wielders are the only ones who use lightsabers,” Din attempted to quip, but his modulated voice was laced with pain as they both looked down at his noticeable wound; the unarmored side of his left thigh was sporting a large grazing burn and he was barely able to put his weight on it. “Trust me, alor’ad, it looks a whole lot worse than it feels.”

“Dammit, Din, I knew I should’ve gone in there with you! We both agreed that the Darksaber was too dangerous to use even in an emergency and now look at what’s happened.” (Y/N) reached for his free hand and began maneuvering his arm around her shoulders for support. “C’mon, we need to get you to a medic-”

“I’m fine, okay? All I want to do is collect our bounty and locate the remnants of my covert.” She flinched at the shortness of his tone and started to pull away, but he heaved a sigh as his strong arm pulled her back to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. You were only trying to help me and you’re right, I should’ve been more careful with the Darksaber.”

(Y/N) nodded, resting a hand against the side of his helmet. “You’re under a lot of stress, sweetheart, but you don’t have to carry it all alone. We’re partners in every sense of the word, Din Djarin, and I promise you that nothing in this galaxy will ever change that. Okay?”

Leaning forward, the Mandalorian rested his forehead against hers in a Keldabe Kiss and sighed. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.”

“And I love you too, my grumpy bounty hunter.” He chuckled and she pressed a quick kiss onto the beskar covering his cheek. “If you say that you’re fine then I believe you, but please let me know if it starts hurting more.”

Nodding, Din pulled back and held up the sack for her to see. “Let’s get this damn job over with and collect the bounty on this son of a mud-scuffer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walked together through the streets of Glavis, with (Y/N) doing her best to hide her concern while Din’s limp grew more and more pronounced with each step he took. When they stepped into the elevator that would transport them to their wealthy client’s nightclub, he placed a gloved hand against the small of her back and his trademark comforting gesture was enough to temporarily ease her worry. Their fellow passenger was looking apprehensively at the bloody sack Din held, but hastily averted his gaze when he realized they’d caught him; bounty hunters sure do know how to drive people away, she thought with a small pang of sadness and Din’s hand flexed a little against her back.

When the elevator’s doors opened on the next level, they stepped out into the nightclub and (Y/N) was forced to raise her voice to be heard over the loud music. “When we were here earlier, I got the feeling that she doesn’t like me too much so I’ll just wait out here.” Her partner gave her a nod and limped off to their client’s private dining room while she stood at the railing and looked out at the bustling space station, the sadness within her suddenly flaring as she watched the ships fly overhead.

It wasn’t as though (Y/N) hated bounty hunting – if she were being completely honest, the thrill of the hunt was slightly addicting after a while – but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep on pretending that it was enough to distract her from the life she’d begun to yearn for. She missed piloting a ship and the excitement of flying it across the galaxy, something she hadn’t experienced since before their assault on Moff Gideon’s light cruiser. She and Din had relied on commercial ships and while they’d been saving all the credits they earned from hunting bounties, they were still a long way from having enough to purchase a ship of their own. If Glavis ends up being a bust then at least we’ll be free to visit Tatooine and see what sort of ship Peli’s scrounged up, she reasoned to herself, fond memories of the eccentric mechanic and their adventures on the desert planet bringing an amused smile to her face.

The familiar sound of Din’s heavy boots grew louder as he returned from seeing their client and he stopped beside her at the railing. “The closest access shaft is down Kolzoc Alley, near the heat vent towers.” He handed her a bag of credits, his breaths coming out in uneven gasps as she carefully tucked it into her satchel with the rest of their money. “We…We’re not too f-far away…”

Biting her lip to keep from remarking on his worsening condition, (Y/N) nodded and accompanied him into the empty elevator. Once the doors slid shut, he released a groan of pain and sagged against the handrail, his gloved fingers gingerly prodding at the edges of the burn; he didn’t bother stopping her as she wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him stand, draping his arm over her shoulders and holding onto his hand before they exited the elevator. While they slowly traveled down the dark alleyways of Glavis, (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in concentration as she hummed a traditional Naboo healing song under her breath, focusing on pouring a soothing energy into the melodic notes. The song didn’t miraculously cure Din’s injury, of course, but his labored breathing steadied a little and his fingers squeezed hers tight in a silent thanks for the distraction.

“There, through that door.” Standing before the ordinary-looking door nestled in the shadows of Kolzoc Alley, Din reached forward and pressed a button on the control panel; they exchanged a brief glance before stepping through the open doorway and onto a narrow metal scaffolding. The space station’s substrata creaked and groaned around them, the faint glow emanating from light strips reflecting off the crisscrossing framework and illuminating the long ladder that led to a platform down below. “I’ll go first.”

(Y/N) anxiously watched as the Mandalorian began to descend and she found herself kneeling on the scaffolding to monitor his progress. “It’s not a race, Din, you should really slow-” A gasp tore out of her throat when his boot slipped off a rung and her hands shot forward to latch around his vambrace, clutching the beskar tight as he steadied himself on the ladder and only letting go once she was sure he was all right. With her heart racing in her chest, she climbed down the ladder after him and when her boots finally touched the platform, she guided his arm back around her shoulders and gave his waist a gentle squeeze. “All good?”

Din lifted the bottom of his helmet just enough to press a kiss to her temple before lowering it again. “N-Never…better.”

They continued their way down the extended platform, the stars twinkling in the empty space surrounding them as Din started to lean more of his weight on her and grunts of pain escaped him with each step. When the end of the platform finally came into sight, she spotted a helmeted figure kneeling at its edge and judging by the way he tried moving faster, they were a fellow Mandalorian; the staircase leading down to where the Mandalorian knelt was intimidating, but she put on an encouraging smile for his sake and murmured. “We’ll take it one step at a time. C’mon, sweetheart, you’ve got this…” His pained groans grew louder as they struggled to descend the staircase and they made it to the last step when his leg finally gave out, pulling away from her and collapsing onto the ground in a heap. “Din!”

(Y/N) struggled to help him sit up as the Mandalorian at the edge of the platform finally spoke. “Tend to him.”

Another much-larger Mandalorian appeared from the shadows with a medkit clutched in their gloved hand, kneeling down on the other side of Din and closely examining his wound. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.” The Mandalorian looked up at (Y/N) and tilted his helmeted head to the side as he considered her. “Who’s this who has brought you back to us?”

“(Y/N), she’s m-my partn-” Din hissed in pain when his friend’s fingers prodded the flesh surrounding his wound; his hand found hers and squeezed it tight as the Mandalorian reached into the medkit for the bacta spray. “My partner. Thank you for saving me on Nevarro…” Another pained gasp escaped his clenched teeth and she wrapped her free hand around the unarmored part of his arm for comfort. “I-I’m sorry for your sacrifice.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “There are three of us now.” The bacta spray made contact with the wound, causing Din to involuntarily flinch away and (Y/N) to hastily hold him steady as the Mandalorian looked between them. “We’ll put you to work soon enough.”

(Y/N) looked down at her partner and while she tried to focus on distracting him from the pain, she couldn’t shake the feeling that his fellow Mandalorian was staring at her through the visor of his helmet; she rubbed her hand up and down his arm and even managed to muster up a small smile. “You’re doing great, sweetheart, you’ll be back to your usual sarcastic self in no time. Oh, and if you ever put me through this much worry again I’ll kick your beskar-clad ass. Got it?”

Din chuckled weakly and nuzzled his head against her neck. “You got it, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.”

“What weapon caused such a wound?”

They both looked over at the Mandalorian kneeling in the distance and glancing over her shoulder at them. “This.” Din unclipped the Darksaber’s hilt from his belt and held it up for the others to see; (Y/N)’s brow furrowed when she noticed the way the Mandalorian froze and momentarily forgot about the wound he’d been bandaging as he stared at the weapon in Din’s hand, but the female Mandalorian spoke before she could remark on it.

“Paz Vizsla, bring it to me.” The Mandalorian carefully took the Darksaber and stood, holding it delicately in his gloved hands as he walked down the platform. The female Mandalorian set some sort of forging tool onto the grating beside her and realization finally dawned on (Y/N) at the sight; Din often spoke highly of his covert’s Armorer and how she’d managed to survive Moff Gideon’s massacre on Nevarro, but it bothered him that she never mentioned where she’d go to establish a new covert. At least we’ve finally found her, she thought as she helped Din sit up straight, and now he can finally move on from the guilt of abandoning the covert. The Armorer rose from the ground and accepted the Darksaber from Paz, turning it over in her grasp as she continued. “All this talk of the Empire, and they lasted less than thirty years. Mandalorians have existed ten thousand.” She ignited the weapon and examined its glowing blade in interest. “What do you know of this blade?”

Din nodded. “We’re told it is the Darksaber.”

“Indeed. Do either of you understand its significance?”

(Y/N) exchanged a brief glance with her partner before answering, “Whoever wields it can lead all of Mandalore.”

“If it is won by Creed in battle. It is said, one warrior will defeat twenty, and the multitudes will fall before it. If, however, it is not won in combat and falls into the hands of the undeserving, it will be a curse unto the nation.” She sheathed the blade and started down the platform towards them. “Mandalore will be laid to waste and its people scattered to the four winds.”

The Armorer’s words reminded (Y/N) of Bo-Katan Kryze, the Mandalorian who’d helped them infiltrate Moff Gideon’s light cruiser and apprehend the Imperial commander. She was hell-bent on re-claiming the Darksaber for herself, insisting that Moff Gideon had taken it from her, and was more than displeased when Din had inadvertently become its rightful owner. (Y/N) had been wary of the Mandalorian and her intentions since the day they met on Trask, but that didn’t mean she automatically believed the Armorer’s story about the destruction of Mandalore. As if sensing her thoughts, Din nudged her shoulder and she helped him stumble to his feet as he gestured to the Darksaber. “The hilt is of a quality of beskar I have never seen before.”

“It was forged over a thousand years ago by the Mandalore Tarre Vizsla.” (Y/N) bit her lip to keep her mouth from falling open at the Armorer’s reply, silently realizing why Paz had stared so intently at the sheathed weapon before. “He was both Mandalorian and Jedi.”

An unbalanced Din leaned against (Y/N) for support and nodded. “We’ve met Jedi.”

“Then you have completed your quest.”

The gloved hand resting on her hip twitched and it was with a curt voice that her partner shortly answered, “I have.” Thoughts of Grogu filled (Y/N)’s mind and her heart clenched in grief; they avoided talking about the little guy but it didn’t make the pain of being separated from him any easier to handle; the knowledge that he was learning how to protect himself and better wield the Force was the only thing that gave her comfort, but even that was fleeting. “We have, actually. I never would’ve succeeded without (Y/N)’s help.”

The Armorer looked between the pair of them before focusing back on Din. “Cuyir ibic gar riduur?”

“Vi morut’t johayc cuun riduurok, a vi kelir nusujii.” Din hastily spoke in Mando’a and although she couldn’t quite understand their exchange, she knew that whatever the Armorer had said flustered him. “We’re a clan of two now.”

After a long pause, the Armorer finally nodded. “Then you may both join our covert as we rebuild.”

Din’s hand wrapped around (Y/N)’s as he replied, “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” Paz gruffly added.

“This is the Way.”

Surrounded by the three Mandalorians, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the feel of foreboding that had begun to blossom in the pit of her stomach; despite Din finally reuniting with the remnants of his clan and having an opportunity to learn the ways of the Darksaber from his people, she felt as though they were in more danger in the substrata of Glavis then anywhere else in the galaxy. Never a moment of peace for a Mandalorian bounty hunter and a Rebellion smuggler, she wearily thought to herself, squeezing Din’s gloved hand and hoping that her intuition would be proven wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Not a very long chapter, but the next one will definitely be more action-packed! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain Cuyir ibic gar riduur?- Is this your wife? Vi morut’t johayc cuun riduurok, a vi kelir nusujii-We haven’t spoken our marriage agreement, but we will soon.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​ @sinon36​ @seninjakitey​ @thatonedindjarinfan​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ @mostclevermiss​ @momc95​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @elinedjarin​​ @itsnottilly​

[trashfamilyimagines]

αℓιιт σяι'ѕнуα тαℓ'∂ιи - fαмιℓу ιѕ мσяє тнαи вℓσσ∂ (A Torian Cadera Imagine)

As the reigning Champion of the Great Hunt, you begin to learn quickly who you can and cannot trust. Thankfully, the crew who has your back is some of the best people any Bounty Hunter could ask for. In fact; you’ve taken so much of a liking to them, you call them family. Corellia is a cruel and worn torn planet, you found yourself of yet another mission from Darth Tormen, but you were on your last string of patience. How many more times would you need to cover this Sith Lord’s ass? You decided to drag Torian, (the only one in your crew willingly wanting to join you on the planet’s surface) along for the ride. You were in Green Jedi territory at the moment, and blasted through a group of republic defenders and their Jedi companions- headed back to help Tormen yet again. “Blasted Jedi. They’re only slowing us down!” You shouted, enraged by your boss’ ability at keeping himself constantly in hot water. “K'atini! (Y/N) control your temper. We’re almost there.” Your young Mandalorian counterpart spoke up, directing the two of you into the last building to rescue Tormen. You couldn’t help but roll your (Y/EC) eyes and blast through the guards at the entrance, working in sync together, as always. “Finally.” You high five Torian as the last republic agent dropped to the floor, jumping down to the scene that was laid out before the two of you. “Did someone call for some backup?.” A smirk painted your features as you blasted a jedi holding a saber to the Sith Lord. Tormen swiftly used your cover to his advantage, striking down the other master in front of him, “The Intel you provided me helped find the location of the Supreme Chancellor. According to Seros’ datapad, they landed on The Founder.” Your eyes widened, “Are you insane? That’s part of the Republic Fleet! Going there would be a death sentence.” Tormen’s deep accented voice relayed a sense of calmness, “Not if you use the plan our intelligence has provided. Go to the Corellia Orbital Station, I have everything you will need. Including Republic Emergency signals: officers will chase after you to make the scene more believable. Other than that, that’s all I can do.” “You best hope that does the trick.” You spun on your heel, storming out of the building with Cadera hot on your heels. “ Ni’ve got gar norac- I’ve got your back. Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” The blonde haired man wrapped an arm around you, hoping to give you a sense of security. “Thanks Torian. I sure hope you’re right.” The two of you entered the Bounty Hunter turbolift, pressing the button to head to your  freighter’s hangar. It was quiet, but a comfortable silence. Over the span of time you knew each other, you got closer and closer. Especially after rescuing him on Hoth. You walked into your ship; starting to head up the stairs to your own quarters when the Mandalorian stopped you by a slight tap on your armored shoulder. “Yes Cadera?. What’s on your mind?.” Your brow raised slightly as you spoke, scanning his features with your (y/ec) eyes. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you, (Y/N).” He pulled you into a tight embrace, a smile painting your features for the first time in a long time, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, I love you too Torian.” Your smile soon spread into a full on grin, not being able to control the joy that surged through your veins. His next actions were totally unexpected- the blonde haired man dropped to one knee, his crystal blue orbs locking onto your own eyes: “Ner runi cuyir te ca kebii'tra, Bal gar cuyir te me'suum'ika bal te Ka'ra- My soul is the night sky, and you are the moon and stars. (Y/N), will you marry me?.” You pulled him up, causing your faces to be only inches away, “It was about time you asked.” His lips slammed into your own, kissing you the most passionately he ever has. Your (Y/SC) hands weaved into his golden locks during the kiss, and he slowly backed you into the cold metallic wall behind you. Torian pulled away briefly, only to whisper, “Ner Cyar'ika.” (My Darling.)

[swan-of-sunrise]

A Naakla Oyay (Seamsters!AU)

Summary: After rescuing Grogu and returning him to his own kind, Din and (Y/N) finally achieve their happily ever after.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Wow, it’s been a hot minute since I wrote anything for this fic, hasn’t it? Here’s a little AU scenario that takes place some time after the Season 2 finale, it’s how I imagined Din and Alor’ad’s story ending if there wasn’t a Season 3. Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

A Naakla Oyay (AU Chapter) (Taking Care of Business Masterlist)

“Are you finally gonna tell me what’s going on, Din?” (Y/N) was smiling bemusedly as she allowed the Mandalorian to guide her down the street. “You’ve been acting weird all week and it’s been driving me crazy ‘cause I can’t figure out why; Life Day isn’t for a few months and my birthday was a couple of weeks ago, so you’d better spill before I find a not-so-pleasant way to make you.”

Din rolled his eyes in playful exasperation as his lips curled into a grin. “Are all ex-smugglers as dramatic as you, alor’ad?”

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Remind me again which one of us got ourselves eaten alive by a kriffing krayt dragon?” She retorted, feeling a surge of triumph when his cheeks blushed pink and he shrugged noncommittally. “C’mon, cyare, I spent the entire day working on Karga’s order and all I could think of was eating dinner and watching the HoloNet with you; I’m grateful for the work, of course, but how many magistrate robes does one person need?”

“Considering that he’s the magistrate of quite a large trade anchor in this sector, I’d say that he’s putting his best foot forward; it’s impossible for people to look anything less than perfect when they’re wearing your clothing, after all.” (Y/N) felt her face begin to warm at her partner’s praise; she still wasn’t quite used to having people compliment her handiwork but with each new customer, she was becoming more and more confident in her fledgling seamstress business. Bringing their joined hands up, Din pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles as his brown eyes sparkled in excitement. “And I promise that the surprise’ll be worth all this.”

The two of them walked through the streets of the city, passing by merchant stalls and people going about their late afternoon shopping. Din’s fingers tightened around her hand when they passed by the small playground and she squeezed his back, knowing that the laughing children at play reminded him of Grogu. The little guy would’ve loved playing with them, she thought with a melancholy smile, though she knew that he was where he belonged; he was learning the way of the Jedi and with proper training, he would finally be safe from the remnants of the Empire. Before they reached the corner of the street, Din stopped and her brow furrowed in confusion when he pulled a blindfold out of the pouch at his waist. “So, you’re taking me to a mysterious location…and now you want me to wear a blindfold.”

“Yeah, it’s a part of the surprise.” (Y/N) arched a skeptical brow and he sighed deeply. “Please, alor’ad?”

His beautiful eyes pleaded with her and after a brief stare-off, she groaned in defeat. “I hate when you do that, it makes me feel like agreeing to anything.”

“Mmm,” Din hummed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to his chest as his smirk widened. “Anything?”

Before he could kiss her, though, she brought her hand up and covered his eager lips with her fingers. “Almost anything.” She giggled as he rolled his eyes in exasperation, removing her hand and planting a brief kiss onto his lips. “Aw, do all bounty hunters pout when they don’t get their way? Maker, no wonder most of them wear helmets to hide their faces.”

The Mandalorian’s lips curved into a reluctant smile at her teasing. “Mir’sheb.”

“C’mon, you know you love me!”

“’Course I do. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner mir’sheb alor’ad.” Din took a moment to rest his forehead against hers in a Keldabe Kiss before pulling back and holding up the blindfold. “Now, do you wanna do the honors or should I?”

With a sigh of feigned annoyance, (Y/N) allowed Din to fasten the blindfold around her eyes and guide her forward; her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her, as she had absolutely no clue what sort of surprise was in store for her. Maybe he finally managed to repair that speeder he bartered off of the Jawas a while back, she thought with an inward smile, recalling how determined he was to hone his mechanic skills and repair the land speeder with his own two hands. A short time later, Din’s hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, guiding her to stop and turn towards her right-hand side; she felt his fingers beginning to loosen the blindfold’s bow and his strong voice faltered a little as he spoke, “O-okay, you can look in three…two…one…”

The blindfold fell away from her eyes, revealing that the two of them stood in front of a mid-sized and clearly abandoned building. Just as she was beginning to frown in confusion, her gaze landed on the sign hanging above the doorway and written in Aurebesh was a shockingly-familiar name…

The Smuggling Seamstress Owned and Operated by (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Naboo

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock and as she continued to stare at the building, Din moved to stand beside her. “I hunted down a couple of New Republic bounties last month, Imperial officers who helped lead attacks against hidden Rebel bases. The reward for their capture was enough to finally finish payments on this building and to purchase some equipment from Theed; it won’t be here for a week or two, of course, but it’ll come in on the next freighter from the Mid-Rim.”

“You…” She finally turned to the Mandalorian in utter disbelief. “You bought me a shop.” Din swallowed nervously but nodded, and she couldn’t suppress her shuddering exhale or tearful smile. “You bought me a shop, Din.”

“Do you…? Do you like it?”

With a half-sob, she launched herself at her surprised partner and flung her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug, burying her face in his neck while he held her close. “I love it! I don’t know what to say, it’s…it’s beautiful!” She pulled away only to immediately capture his lips in a passionate kiss; Din’s surprise was short-lived and as he began to kiss her back, she ran her fingers through his soft brown curls. Once it became too difficult to breathe, she pulled back and stammered, “I-I’ll pay you back for everything, cyare, just as soon as I can.”

Din shook his head. “It’s all a gift, alor’ad. You remember that day you told me about your dream to run your own shop? Well, that was the day I vowed to do everything I could to help you live that dream. It took me a little longer than I originally anticipated, but I finally fulfilled my vow.”

“You’re…” (Y/N) began, her tears beginning to fall as she struggled to find the words to properly convey her sudden emotions. “You’re too good to me, Din. I don’t deserve this-”

“You’re wrong.” One of his hands remained on the curve of her waist while the other moved to cup her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away her stray tears as his eyes bored into hers. “Nothing’s too good for you, (Y/N), you hear me? You deserve every happiness this universe has to offer and then some.”

He held her close and pressed light kisses along her forehead and cheeks as her eyes drifted closed; as they stood there in front of the abandoned building, she silently thanked the Maker for putting Din Djarin in her path all those months ago. An idea suddenly sprang to mind, her eyes opening as she pulled away far enough to see all of Din’s face. “Din Djarin, I’ll accept your very generous gift…” Her lips curved into a smile. “But only if you become my business partner. Owning my own shop and doing something I love is my dream, but my dream wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t there to share it with me. So…” Stepping back out of his arms, she held out her hand for him to shake. “Partners?”

Din’s eyes were filled with happiness as he nodded and shook her outstretched hand. “Akay te ka’ra kyr, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.”

“Akay te ka’ra kyr, ner cyar’ika beroya.” Beaming, (Y/N) launched herself back into Din’s arms and their laughter mingled together as he spun her around in a circle; when her feet were finally back on the ground, she glanced between Din’s love-filled face and the building beside them. “Well, I guess we should take a look around our new shop, shouldn’t we?”

The Mandalorian flashed her a wolfish grin before suddenly lifting her up into his strong arms. “Among other things.”

“Mmm, I like the way you think, Din Djarin…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Aw, such a cute happy ending! Don’t worry, I’m still going to continue this fic once Season 3 airs but in the meantime, I’ll probably post more AU chapters. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

Mando'a Translations: A Naakla Oyay-A Peaceful Life Alor'ad-Captain Cyare-Beloved Mir’sheb-Smartass Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner mir’sheb alor’ad-I love you, my smart-ass captain Akay te ka’ra kyr, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-Until the stars end, my darling captain Akay te ka’ra kyr, ner cyar’ika beroya-Until the stars end, my darling bounty hunter

Chapter Twenty

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​​​​​​ @sinon36​​​​​​ @seninjakitey​​​​​​ @thatonedindjarinfan​​​​​​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​​​​​​ @mostclevermiss​​​​ @momc95​​​​​​ @welcometothepedroverse​​​​​​ @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​​ @zukoyonce​​​​​​ @itsnottilly​​​​​​

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Four

A/N: Making jokes in tense situations is my coping mechanism and it is also Navina’s. And neither of us are funny under pressure. We sure do try though. 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: With Navina and Firo off to hit an abandoned Imperial base on Nevarro in hopes of scoring a hot new ride that won’t litter bolts all over the galaxy like the Flare will, and Mando responding to Cara’s holo about a beskar sighting, the stage is set for an introduction to remember... and hopefully not a bloody one. 

Warnings: talk of death, violence, weapons, language 

Word Count: 4.8k

Nevarro. 

“You sure about this, Nav?” Firo peered through a pair of binocs, turning a dial on the side to zoom in. He had them pointed at the fenced off facility that they had cased out shortly after landing on the volcanic planet. Abandoned by the Empire twice now, the base, carved into the side of a cliff out past the lava flats, had still not been addressed by the New Republic. Although it was clear from their cursory recon that the place had taken some recent damage, it appeared as though it still housed plenty of small ships and speeders. 

The plan had originally been to fly in on the Flare, Firo’s current ship, and set down on the landing pad. They’d discussed it first in the caves on Yavin, Firo sharing the location of the base and what limited information he had heard from a fellow smuggler over a game of Sabacc. Rumored to have no security detail, not even droids, they had figured that it would be an easy job. Load up the Flare and another small ship with a few speeders that they could sell on the black market, then split up, Firo in his ship and Navina in the one previously owned by the Empire. The goal was to be in and out and off of the planet so quickly that even if there were cameras or sensors on the base, they’d be long gone before anyone could turn up to stop them. And that had seemed completely feasible. Until now. 

Plans have never really been my thing anyway. “I’m sure.” Besides, this might actually work out to my benefit...

Pulling the lenses away from his eyes, he turned to face her. “Even though the Marshal is-” 

“Since when has a Marshal ever stopped us, Firo?” She shot him her cockiest smirk, casually crossing her ankles as she leaned her palm against the Flare’s hull. “Since when has-” Her friend gritted his teeth and tried to stop her, but it was too late. The panel she’d chosen to press her weight into gave under pressure, the metal creaking as it dented inwards sending Navina off balance. “Woah!” Firo sucked air through his teeth as he reached out to help her catch herself, but she brushed him off with a huff that he knew she had to work hard not to allow to turn into a laugh. “Alright, on an unrelated note, you need to have that looked at.” She pointed at the flimsy piece that upon closer inspection she realized had been poorly soldered on in an attempt to reinforce a previous repair. Shaking her head, she looked up at the ship and then back at Firo. “I can’t believe I got on this thing and flew here with you.” 

“Hey!” He tried to keep a straight face too, but a snicker threatened to turn into a full blown snort if he didn’t let it out. “Alright, yeah, she needs some work.” That’s the understatement of the century. “Still beats taking a commuter shuttle though, Harsa,” he teased, knowing that she had had to put up with a series of shuttle transfers to get to Yavin from Coruscant, and that it was her least favorite way to travel the galaxy. 

“Not if she falls apart the second you make the jump to hyperspace,” she teased back. He couldn’t come up with anything quickly enough, so she steered the conversation back to the task at hand. “But as I was saying, we’ve always been able to get around the Marshals we’ve come across. We’ll just have to... “ She shrugged. “Improvise.” With that, she turned and headed around the back of the ship to climb the ramp. Taking a large step up as the ramp no longer opened all the way, she sighed. This ship is a kriffing disaster. 

“Improvise?” Firo followed her around and hoisted himself up onto the ramp as she started rifling through her bag to gather what she would need. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, watching as she pulled two comm links from an inner compartment. 

Navina blew into one of them, then tapped the receiving end to make sure it was still in working order. “Yeah,” she said, tossing it to him with a grin. He snatched it out of the air and tucked it into the front pocket of his pants. “Improvise.” She checked the second comm link, giving it a shake for good measure before hiding it away under her shawl. 

Firo waited for her to look back up at him to respond. “We are pretty good at that.” 

“Good? Who’s better?” She asked with a wink, turning back to her bag to dig out her armor. “Remember that time on Onderon?” She pulled out a purple painted shoulder pauldron, untwisting the leather straps that were used to keep it in place. “When we-”  

“Nav?” He cut her off then, walking completely through the doorway to stand in front of her, and she knew instantly that he was concerned. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and set the second pauldron on top of the first one, the durasteel clinking softly. With a sigh, he went on, green-gold eyes narrowing briefly and his lips turning down into a slight frown. “I know there’s... something you’re not telling me.” 

She stiffened, a sudden wave of guilt making her wince. He’s right. There was a lot she hadn’t told him, and while she had reasoned that the less he knew about some of her plans the safer he’d be, she also knew better than to think that he wouldn’t be able to tell when she was being withholding. He knows me better than anyone, of course he knows that I’m… that something’s… “Firo, I-” 

“Look,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her the rest of the way so that he could look straight at her as he spoke. “I didn’t want to say anything on Yavin, because I know that,” his forehead furrowed and he swallowed as he dropped his arm back to his side. “I know... what time of the year it is. I know that,” he shook his head and dropped his chin. “I know you were hoping that…dank farrik.” 

He knew that she was hoping that this would be the year that she would be reunited with her father and the little one. Navina’s mother was gone, that was a fact, but the rest of her family was a mystery. He knew that she only allowed herself those three days to hope that they were still alive, because the last time that they had seen each other they had agreed on a designated time each year that they would return to Yavin 4, the last place they had called home, if it were safe for them to do so. She and her mother had missed the first few years, the need to stay hidden keeping them from being able to make the trip. At that time her parents were still able to at least transmit the occasional holo, and while she wanted nothing more than to be able to see her father and the child that she affectionately called verd’ika, she understood, even then, that their hiding was necessary. This is the Way. She could remember thinking it even then, could hear her own small voice repeating the words back to her mother, the two of them tucking their hopes away for another year.

Twenty three years later, she was still packing and unpacking that hope, the thing riddled with creases and worn thin along the folds. She knew that the odds weren’t good that her family was still alive, or if they were, that they hadn’t been captured or separated. Regardless, every year she gave herself three days to air that hope, to go home and wait for them to join her there. But this year was no different from the last one. They’re- she squeezed her eyes shut against the word. No. She wouldn’t even think the word until she had confirmation. 

Ni partayli, gar darasuum. I remember you, so you are eternal. As the phrase played in her head, she reached under the cowl of her shawl for the pendant around her neck, squeezing it until she could feel the tusks digging into her palm and then running her finger around the rim of one carved eye, nail scratching against the hard, faceted stone that had been set inside. I remember. 

And she had been remembering so much lately, the flashes from the night they had fled Concordia coming much more clearly than ever before. It made no sense to her that she would suddenly be able to recall clips of dialogue or images of faces with increasing ease as more time passed, but for the last few months that had been the case. And then when Firo had found her father’s kal, it had been too simple to give in to the time-worn hope, too tempting to see it as a sign. But it had obviously been there the whole time, she told herself, despite the fact that it wasn’t obvious at all. 

She hadn’t told Firo about the increased power or frequency with which the amethyst tinted memories were coming to her, but that wasn’t all she was keeping from him, and it was the second omission that she truly felt guilty about. He was extremely gracious in granting her whatever level of secrecy or privacy she wanted or needed when it came to her family and the closure that she longed for there. While he knew she didn’t truly consider herself to be a Mandalorian as she’d never sworn the Creed or been fitted for her own armor, he understood that she still held fast to the traditions and beliefs that she was raised on; that her clan - her aliit, one of the few Mando’a words that Firo had picked up through the years, and one that Navina thought was appropriate for him, always looking at him as a brother of sorts - was bonded together indelibly, and that she’d never turn her back on that bond.  

The guilt she felt was in no way related to her family or Yavin or her memories. It was in regards to what she’d heard in the lower levels of Coruscant, the city under the city at the center of the galaxy. A rumor, but one she’d been chasing for a long time, had caught her attention, and she couldn’t let it go until she’d seen it through, and it was for that reason that she was insistent upon going through with their plan to hit the abandoned base. Yes, she needed a ship. Firo could do with a new one, too, honestly. But she also needed to know if what she’d heard was true- that the Darksaber had changed hands once more… but that it had once more eluded both of the women who sought it most fiercely, herself, so that she could destroy it, and Bo-Katan of House Kryze, the radical who at one point plotted to overthrow her own sister for the Mandalorian throne. And if it is true, if it’s no longer in Imperial hands… I need to know who has it now. 

While she didn’t know the exact location of it, Navina knew that there had been, until recently, a Mandalorian covert here on Nevarro. She had no idea how large their numbers were, only that there had been a very violent standoff with the Imperial remnant who’s base she and Firo were about to loot. But the most interesting part of the rumors that she had collected in her travels from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim, was that the New Republic’s Marshal stationed there had been linked to a Mandalorian- to the Mandalorian that the Imps had been targeting. So when she saw the woman with the badge pinned to her belt and the heavy blaster rifle she carried with absolute confidence, it had the exact opposite effect that that sort of deterrent would have on anyone else. I need to know. She sighed, binging one hand up to her forehead and pushing it back over her scalp. She grabbed the base of her long, thick braid and followed it down to the end, pulling it as she looked back up at her friend. But he needs to know, too.  

“Firo, it’s…” 

“It’s about that damn saber, isn’t it?” He raised one eyebrow in a high arch, and her stunned silence paired with the stupefied expression she knew she was wearing answered for her. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I know. You get…” he squinted at her, “you act differently when you have a lead on something about your family or that kriffing sword.” 

“Firo,” she reached for his arms, her hands cuffing around his biceps to emphasize how important this was to her. “That kriffing sword is what-” 

Bending his elbows, he grabbed her hands and pulled them down, not angrily but forcefully, holding her wrists as he spoke. “I know. I know what you… how you feel about it and about what it stands for and… and the part it played in…” He clamped his eyes shut then, but before he did she noticed how prominent the golden flecks in them were. He’s nervous. Of the two of them, Firo was absolutely more likely to worry when it came to her safety. She flinched, knowing that she had given him plenty of reasons to throughout the span of their friendship. The scrapes that he typically got himself into were almost always easy enough to weasel him out of with a little careful negotiation or a generous bribe. The spots she found herself in however, usually resulted in drawn blasters and blades. He let out a breath and released his grip on her wrists. “Nav, I just need to know you’re not gonna get yourself killed.” 

She clicked her tongue, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, Firo, I’m a hard woman to kill. I have the-” 

“The scars to prove it,” he finished the second part of her sentence in unison with her, rolling his eyes. “I know. I’m trying to be serious here, Harsa.” 

“I know.” She said it quietly, blinking up at him as his hard frown softened. “I’m sorry, Firo, I should have told you what I was…” she shook her head, the end of her braid bouncing behind her. “I should have told you that I knew about…” she groaned, leaning forward until her forehead met his chest. 

To her surprise she felt it rumble as he chuckled. Huh? He’s… laughing? She picked her head up, a confused look on her face. “Apologizing is really rough for you, isn’t it?” 

With that she let out a laugh of her own. “Only with you though, isn’t that strange?” She winked at him, swatting at his stomach. 

“Very strange indeed,” he agreed, intercepting her swat and pushing her hand away. “Alright. So we’re improvising. What have you got so far?” 

Her grin climbed her cheeks then, and she laid out her new plot. “Not going to get myself killed, Firo. Just captured.” 

Less than an hour later they were prepped and ready to put their backup plan into action. Navina removed her gray shawl,  strapping her purple chestplate and pauldrons to the black flak vest she wore over her short sleeved black top. Next she wrapped her wrists in padded black fabric and slid the vambraces over them. The left one was utterly useless in terms of weaponry; it appeared as though at one point it was equipped with whistling birds, but the mechanism had been damaged by the previous owner and now its only use was protection. But it’s beskar, so it’s worth wearing. The right one still had a functioning flamethrower, though it was low on fuel, and a grappling line, though it had snared the last time she tried to deploy it so she made a mental note not to count on it cooperating this time either. Holstering her blaster on her thigh, she took her father’s beskar kal from her bag, attaching the sheath she had made for it on the trip to Nevarro to her belt. The last piece of armor she donned was her mother’s helmet, the traditional “T” shaped visor smashed along the eyeline, but the modulator and audio features still in working order. 

“Well look at you, Nav, you look like a real live Mando if I ever saw one.” You haven’t, bantha brain. “I like the,” he grasped his right wrist with his left hand, a quizzical look coming over his face as he tried to search for the right word. “Those things.” 

Firo had armed himself as well, a pair of blasters on his hips, a small knife in his boot, and a handful of different blaster cartridges on his bandolier that he could switch out for different effects if necessary. Navina felt a knot twist in her stomach though as she remarked not for the first time that he wore no armor at all, nothing to protect him but his speed if triggers were pulled down there. We’ve got to change that if this is the type of thing we’re going to be doing.

“Alright,” she let out a breath and locked her eyes with his through her broken visor. “Last chance to back out. This is my thing, you don’t have to be involved if you-” 

“Would you knock it off already?” He tapped the side of her helmet softly, the action causing her to snort as she recalled the first time he’d bopped her on the head while she was wearing the beskar helmet, and how he had nearly broken his hand. “You ready?” She nodded. I am. “Okay. Let’s go get you captured I guess.” Grumbling under his breath about how he had a feeling that he was going to regret this, he walked down the ramp, hopping off the edge where it dangled a foot or two from the ground. She followed on his heels, smiling to herself. 

Since they were changing the plan, they were no longer flying the Flare down to the base’s landing pad, as only one of them- Firo-  would be flying out. Instead they left the dilapidated ship where it was and headed for the entrance furthest from where the Marshal and the man she had with her were stationed. Navina would hold them off, distracting them while Firo made his way up to the landing pad to make off with a ship, and then hopefully, after she found out what she needed to know and got herself out of whatever lockup situation the New Republic’s Marshals instituted on Nevarro, she’d rendezvous with him here where the Flare was waiting, and they would head for some place where they could lay low for a week or two. They had their comm links in case they needed to contact one another after they separated. But Navina had a good feeling about how this was going to go. She kept that to herself though, sure that Firo would have some snarky comment about how her good feelings were almost always bad portents.

As they neared the edge of the cliff face that had been providing them cover, Navina reached out and stopped Firo in his tracks. “Promise me you’ll bail if I tell you to.”

“Uh oh,” he joked. “You have a good feeling, don’t you?” 

“Firo,” she groaned. “I mean it. Promise me if I tell you to leave you will. I-” 

“I promise, Nav.” He acquiesced then, giving the tail of her braid a slight tug where it stuck out from the bottom of her helmet. “Now, let’s go.” 

She nodded, and with that, they split, both heading off in different directions- Firo towards the secondary entrance that they’d found on their initial recon mission a few days back, and Navina straight towards the waiting Marshal. She glanced back over her shoulder as she reached the last of the small boulders she was darting between for cover, and seeing Firo’s boots disappear through the door, she took a deep breath and ran. 

“What’s the town to do with the law this far out on the flats?” Navina projected her voice over the empty space as she rounded the corner, making for where she knew the two temporary sentinels were waiting. 

But the second she got close, a third figure stepped into view, one that halted her in her tracks. Dank. Farrik. She raised her hands, palms facing outwards, as the sharp end of a long beskad stopped just shy of her helmet. Holding it was the most imposing Mandalorian she had ever laid eyes on. The man wasn’t much taller than she was, but the stance he took, the way that he held his body and his weapon would have been enough for her to know that he was a formidable fighter. On top of that, he was covered head to toe in beskar armor more pure and pristine than she knew to exist. The sword in his gloved hand was just the first that she noticed of what she now realized were many weapons- a blaster, spear, and vibroblade all visible, plus whatever devices he had installed on his vambraces. And that’s just what I can see. A Mandalorian like this one was liable to have at least four more weapons concealed. A Mando like this is a weapon.  

The Marshal and the the older man that had been waiting with her- as bait, Navina realized too late- stepped up behind the Mandalorian, the woman speaking. “You got this from here, Mando? I’m gonna go check out what her friend is up to inside.” Navina scowled at the woman who gave her a condescending look before the man answered. 

“Sure. I can take care of her. Take Karga with you.” He hadn’t turned away from Navina, and he hadn’t lowered his weapon. His voice, though modulated through his helmet, sounded calm and even, and she knew that while it likely offered some of his prey a false sense of comfort, she knew better. The Marshal and the other man didn’t hesitate to do as he said, the woman telling him to call for her if she needed him. He won’t, Navina fumed at her retreating figure. 

Neither of them said anything until the other two were out of sight, and all Navina could do was hope that Firo was running through the base at top speed. He just needs to get off of the pad, get out of here and then he’s- 

“Are you a Mandalorian?” He asked the question as he slid the end of his blade up onto the curve of the armor on her left shoulder, the beskar sword scraping a long divot into the top layer of painted durasteel with a sharp shing. 

She let her eyes flick down to where the blade sat without moving her head, hands still in front of her. Stall. Give Firo more time to get out. The blade had only cut through the outer shell of her pauldron, but he had barely used any force at all and she knew she had to answer carefully because one wrong word or uncalculated move would cost her more than the time needed to repair her armor. He’ll chop my arm clean off with that thing. “That depends on who you ask,” she raised her eyes back up to where his would be if she could see them, noticing a sculpted signet in the shape of a mudhorn on his own shoulder piece. 

“I’m asking you,” he answered, tone shedding some of its evenness as with the quick turn of his wrist the blade slipped between her pauldron and flak vest, slicing it off in one fluid motion. “And I want an answer. Are you a Mandalorian? Did you swear the Creed?” 

Loud bangs coming from the landing pad above them told her that Firo was almost home free. Just a few more seconds. “I was never given the chance to. My clan was attacked when I was a child.” Honesty seemed the best course of action at this point. Though she was a skilled fighter, Navina knew when she was outmatched and outgunned. 

“Your armor,” he nodded his head in her direction then, the first move he’d made that hadn’t been to slice her pauldron to pieces. “How did you come by it if it wasn’t made for you?” 

“Took the pauldrons and chest piece from a trooper,” she stated, though she knew that was the least of his cares. “These?” she raised her wrists up higher, “these I stole from a back ally trader. You want ‘em? They’re yours.” He nodded again, and she mirrored the gesture, glancing up to the pad as the rumbling sound of thrusters preparing to take off told her that Firo was going to make it out safely. Good. That’s all that… all that matters. She slowly pulled the vambraces from her wrists, tossing them at the Mandalorian’s feet. “They’re busted and they don’t fit, so by all means.” 

“Your helmet.” He demanded. 

“Now that I will not be parting with,” she told him, trying to muster up all of the evenness that she could. 

“It looks like pure beskar.” It wasn’t a question. 

“It is. It’s the only piece of pure beskar I own, aside from,” she pointed to her belt with one hand, the other still suspended in the air between them. He nodded his approval for her to pull the kal from the sheath. “Aside from this.” Holding the dagger out for him to see, she brought it slowly up to his beskad and clanged them together, the sound ringing out and making it clear to both of them that both blades were entirely pure. “And I won’t be giving you either of them, Mando.” Sheathing her kal again, she brought that same hand up to her chest, digging under the flimsy armor and pulling out her mother’s mythosaur necklace. “They belonged to my parents, and if you want them you’re going to have to kill me.” 

At the sight of the pendant he lowered his weapon and cocked his head to the side. “The Mythosaur… but what is, why is there…” 

Navina looked down at the pendant in her hand then, the stone visible in its eyes seeming to glow a fierce shade of purple. She sucked in a breath as she brought her other hand up to cover it, thinking that it was just the harsh Nevarro sun that was causing it to shine more brightly than it ever had before. But when shaded by her other palm the purple light seemed only to shine brighter. “It’s never… it’s never done that before, never so…” 

Just then a comm link clicked in the Mandalorian’s pocket, and he pulled it out, pressing the button on the side. “Cara,” he spoke the woman’s name. 

“The other one got away with a ship and a few speeders. You good down there?” 

Navina felt a fleeting relief as she heard that Firo was off the base and that he’d even managed to make it profitable for himself. The Mandalorian stared at her for long seconds before answering, holding the communicator in his fist close to his helmet. “I’m taking this one back with me.” With that, he switched off the communicator and put it back in his pocket, unhooking a set of binders from his hip. “I can put these on you and you can follow me,” he offered, “Or,” he looked down at the blaster on his hip. “I can set that to stun and-” 

Navina shoved her wrists in his direction. “Clap ‘em on then,” she sighed and he did, securing them so smoothly she was sure he’d done it hundreds of times at least. “Where uh… where are we going?” 

Sheathing his sword on his belt, he looked straight at her and answered. “No questions.” He bent down and picked up the discarded vambraces, then started walking in the opposite direction. When she didn’t follow right away, he reached for his blaster. “I’m not sure when the last time I used the stun setting was,” he said, hand poised over his weapon. “Not sure if it still works.” Looking back over his shoulder at her, he finished the threat. “Don’t make me test it on you.” 

“This is the Way,” she responded reluctantly. 

With that he started walking again, Navina following closely behind in silence. 

Nope. Plans are not my thing.   

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