#MANDO X ORIGINAL CHARACTER

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight -Chapter 38: Losing Dogs

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Implied Sexual Content. Graphic Death of an Animal.

Words: 3.5k

Summary:  He fears the brink of insanity.

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The morning is slow and Din Djarin remains at the foot of the throne room’s sweeping staircase until the suns beam inside. Occasionally he removes his helmet for a drink of water, or a bite of fruit spears stolen from the kitchen.

The Darksaber is displaced from his hip, chucked some twenty feet away at the base of the throne.

He fears the brink of insanity.

What a king he will make…

He’s fallen asleep thrice, each waking a startled jump. Intruders have been the Gamorreans, and the last time the wookie Krrsantan. None paid him any mind, though he suspects the wookie to be less impressed by his deprived state.

While the room is still dark, he stares at the ceiling and sees nothing. He feels claustrophobia crushing his lungs. The coming light proves the stone an untouchable barrier high above.

Better it all just collapse.

The image of her is burned into his mind. Asleep, quiet, content. He feels sick and wishes for a migraine. After a while, his water tastes like poison.

He blames her. He shouldn’t. He does.

Thing could’ve been fine. A release. A relief.

A sick closure. 

They acted too casually. Too normal. They’d forgotten, he’d forgotten. He’s meant to not need her, want her. She’s supposed to be awful. Some lie. Something changed. Maybe she is, changed into something more caring, more willing to help, smarter, more aware—no, he’s meant to see her as worse.

Fuck.

Is it his place his cry? To be upset? Maybe not. Emotions are untethered.

He doesn’t want to love her, the root of the issue.

Maybe there’s a feeling of obligation.

Were he asked, without thinking Din would say he didn’t. Doesn’t.

He doesn’t love Lumina.

Doing so means too much. He’s strong. He is mandalorian, but he’s also scared. 

There are too many variables.

Maybe he isn’t okay.

“You’re up early.” Fennec says, coming down the stairs. “Don’t tell me you’ve been down here all night.”

“No,” Din coughs. “No not all night.” He stands and his knees wobble. “I’ve been thinking… I don’t think it’s wise I go to Freetown.”

“Why’s that?”

He hesitates. “You can’t understand the kind of position I’m in just by being here…”

Fennec rolls her eyes. “You sound like Bo-Katan.”

“Is that wrong?”

“It is when neither of you can make up your mind. If you hate her you are at your mercy to do so. If you’d rather never see her again, do not. I gave you a choice. I don’t care about your feelings, I care that you can do a job. One job. Are you telling me now, that you are incapable?”

“I’m telling you it isn’t logical, and my personal reasons for that aren’t your concern.”

“Your intentions are precisely my concern. She is the heir of this palace, these territories, the sand you stand on. In the eyes of the Daimyo, that girl is worth more than any treasure in reserves. I am committed to her safety and wellbeing. What you need to understand is that we are balancing on a precarious line and you, are a wind I seem to have underestimated. You blow too hard.”

He swallows. “What kind of line are we talking about?”

“Go to Freetown,” Fennec says. “Look for it.”

---

A half hour past suns rise, Lumina emerges to the outdoor hangar with faltered step. She drags her newly finished bike, a Gamorrean moving a second for Din. He chooses not to comment on anything; her dark circles, or the remnants of the Imperial uniform on her body: A bodysuit, empty vambraces and holsters, a red cloth wrapped around her forearm. Her lightsaber dangles from her hip.

On closer look, he thinks her hair is shorter as well, just above her shoulder instead of just past. 

She thanks the guard in Huttese, he bows.

Fennec steps out in exchange for the boar with a long locked gray case. Their exchanged words are softer than what can be made out. The back and forth is short but brings them knelt to the ground with the case opened.

Her weapons, Din realizes quickly. Daggers, blasters, detonators. A rifle half the size of her body. She fills her pockets with possible destruction and slings the firepuncher over her back.

She’s overdressed for the occasion, certainly a diplomatic one, but Din also stands with his own rifle, spear, and jetpack.

They’re too similar.

Last, she’s handed a small pack, attached to the back of her speeder seat.

A cloak, a water canteen, few rations, the treaty.

Fennec tells her to be smart, loud enough to know Din would hear. In response, Lumina slides on a pair of gloves. She straddles her bike and pulls on her helmet.

Fennec says his name: “Din.”

Lumina drives away.

He follows

---

She leads drive in total silence as twin suns burn their covered skin. When they begin to reach their peak in the sky, Din connects to the channel in her helmet.

He suggests they pull off to rest, eat, relieve themselves. He’s familiar with the trail they journey, and they’re approaching a tribe of local Tuskens. He says they’re friendly people and would surely grant them safety.

“What do you say?” he asks. “What do you think?”

She pulls back, allowing him to take the lead.

The stay is short. Two hours at most. They ask if she is an unspoken, a mute. In response, Lumina rubs her stomach:

Sick.

---

They arrive to Freetown sometime in the late afternoon, speeders skidding to a halt. Lumina disembarks with an effortless air of cool, shaking her head free of the helmet. An unfamiliar face, claiming himself to be deputy, greets the pair.

“Howdy ma’am,” he says, tipping his hat. “Might I ask your business here in this town?”

“We’re here to speak with Marshal Vanth,” Din answers.

“The Marshal ain’t taking visitors,” he says. “Not til I vet ‘em at least.”

Lumina’s fist bunches at her side, Din steps up. “Why don’t you get the Marshal before something happens?”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s advice. Take it.”

“Now listen here—”

“Stand down, Deputy.” Cobb Vanth, unmistakable arrogant swagger in his step. “These fine folk mean no harm.” He shrugs. “Far as I can tell anyway.” He takes Lumina’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back. “Lady Fett,” he greets. “Pleasure to see you again. I apologize for my… deputy there. He’s new. You understand.”

“I expect to be treated with more respect than an interrogation Marshal.” She removes her hand. “If you wish to continue having a deputy, you’ll correct his error.”

His tongue clicks. “Yes ma’am. Should I grovel for forgiveness now or later?”

“Don’t tempt me.” She walks past him. “How are the new water sourcers working out?”

“Better than great.”

“And the bordering trade routes?”

“They cause no trouble. I’ve got men keeping eye, no Pykes, no spice.” Cobb seems to just now catch attention onto Din, awkward in position by Lumina’s bike. “Well I’ll be damned,” he says. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever show your mug round these parts again.”

Din nods. “Marshal.”

“Cobb.”

“Cobb. Haven’t seen you since you gave up the armor. How’ve you been?”

“More careful. What brings you up here? Didn’t take you as a diplomat, Mando.”

“Din. And… I’m not.” Lumina freezes up ahead, Cobb follows his line. “Just thought I’d tag along.”

The Marshal looks back, pointing, Really? he mouths. He whistles. His eyes ask, How’s that working out?

Din’s head shakes. “Her folks thought you’d need some sweet talking.”

“Is that right?” He chuckles. “They worried that much?”

“Not for you.”

Cobb nods, pensive. “We get along just fine, me and her. She and her old man, they come round every now and then.”

“Is that so?”

“Sure is. Wanted to thank the fella who kept the armor safe. Should’ve guessed you knew em too… Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“You trust them?” Cobb asks. “I mean really trust em. You gotta understand it’s more than myself I gotta look out for here. This town depends on me, and putting our faith in some city sluggers that ain’t even from here… it’s a hell of a plea. Either way this turns, I gotta be sure I ain’t making a mistake.”

“I’ve read the deal she wrote, ’s better than good.”

“But do you trust them?”

He doesn’t know why he says, “I do.”

---

Negotiations take upwards of three hours. As expected, the Marshal pushes against proposed taxation rates, he mocks the idea of a tribute.

Din is convinced Lumina was made for the Senate. Some great politician or lawyer. She understands policy like it is art, she gives where she needs but holds strong.

He feels the Darksaber on his hip and is reminded of Boba Fett’s words. “You first taste of politics coming from an expert…”

If this is his future, he is wholly unprepared.

Though any aide from the Fetts going forward seems nonexistent.

“So we’re at an agreement?” Lumina asks, hands folded on the table. 

Cobb blows out hot air from puffed cheeks. “It would seem so.”

She doesn’t smile until he signs, and even then carries the emotion with calculation.

They shake hands.

“Freetown is now under the sworn protection of the Daimyo of Mos Espa and the Fett name,” she says. “Congratulations Marshal Vanth.”

---

By nightfall, the people of Freetown host a celebration. They are kind and generous. They build a fire outside town and share their roast. The children are polite, the adults respectful.

She is especially kind and Din’s stomach turns for expecting otherwise.

They sit on opposite sides of the fire. She entertains babbles of the young, though he is unsure whether she understands at all.

The Force, he remembers; translations of emotion through the mind, as Ahsoka had explained with Grogu. That must be it.

Lumina doesn’t smile, she doesn’t attempt one either. But she nods along, pats a shoulder, and closes her eyes every now and then.

They offer her food and she does not take.

They ask why.

She gives the same excuse.

Sick.

He can’t remember if she ate the night before and debates interjection.

Ultimately, he decides it to not be his place.

---

Din watches Lumina like she were an animal behind a cage and still continued to fear that she may indeed someday break loose. His face is warped by the fire and she tries to look at him as little as possible, but she is not as strong as she would like to believe.

Or, she is just as weak as she knows to be.

Either is an accurate assessment.

It is her fault, she thinks, truly at the end of it all. She is meant to be better. Unattached. Expectant of the worst.

And yet—

Feeling is overwhelming, but she isn’t sure what this is.

It may be love, the nasty effects of it. The long lasting resentment and care.

Tatooine has gone to the dogs and she has taken her place among them.

It isn’t her fault he carried too much faith, she warned him after all. He should have known.

He should have.

And maybe she isn’t so awful, maybe he should have tread more careful in worship. Maybe she is worth something. Maybe the hounds aren’t all bad.

She looks at the Mandalorian. 

He stands. He leaves.

She thinks too much.

---

Din picks apart half a roasted rib in his own solitude from the crowd. The meat is wet, he feels a cannibal with juices dripped down his chin. 

In the nearer distance, he faces subjection to a grouping of animals and their screams. His helmet locks on just as Lumina rises over the nearest sand dunes apex. Marshal Vanth calls for a retreat at her side. The shouts comes again, echoing in the night air.

They each grip the sabers swinging on their hips.

Lumina skids down the sand with skilled precision. She reminds him of a blood sniffer, turning her head one way to the other.

“What is it?” he asks.

“We call it Devil’s Hound,” the Marshal says. “Predators of the land… it’s best to retreat.”

Her hand raises. “Sh.”

The wind blows, she takes off running.

Din swears and chases.

---

“Lumina. Lumina!”

Head first into darkness, the moon’s lights guide through blindness.

He catches up when she stops and is only slightly out of breath. Din follows a blood speck trail stretching from the edge of his vision to a creature a quarter her size laid on the sand. She stands over the body, four feet from him.

They hear Marshal Vanth, fuzzed in the background, calling them away.

“Lu,” Din says.

“She’s hurt.”

Her first words to him in seventeen hours: She’s hurt.

She’d heard it, the in fighting, of course she had. The terrorized yelps had only hit Din’s ears when she appeared over the dune. 

He gets a better look at the animal, an anooba. The runt of its litter if size if anything to go by, bleeding from its ribs and neck. Its gray fur looks black with the lack of light, and the blood an oil spill.

Lumina crouches by the animals head, slowly reaching out. It wheezes, strangled grunts fighting the affection.

“Don’t,” Din says with no fight in his voice.

“You poor thing…” Gently, she rubs the anooba’s muzzle, guiding up its cheek. “Do you have a light?” she asks Din. “It might not be that bad.”

He reaches in his pockets, the small torch attachment to his helmet fumbling out. He bangs the hold against his palm. “There’s no charge,” he says. “Haven’t needed it since—”

“Give it.” She holds out her hand.

“It doesn’t work.”

She doesn’t budge. She hits her palm to the metal all the same, frowning. “C’mon,” she mumbles, pulling off the top. She twists the lightbulb out of its socket, rubbing her thumb over its base and electrical contact. “Put pressure on her wound, help stop the bleeding.“

“Lu—”

They both know what he’s attempting to say. The animal is unknown, possibly rabid, dangerous. It’s too small, its breathing is already shortening.

Anooba’s travel in packs, there’s a reason it was left behind.

“She’s just a baby,” Lumina says. “Give her a chance.”

In coming days he’ll wonder what could have happened differently had he not hesitated now.

He’s selfish enough to believe this is all another ploy at first. An attempt to turn his perspective, another manipulation of character. She knows all too well the image painted within the desert. She must.

 But then Din looks at her, really looks at her. She’s sitting with the anooba—this thing called evil with no evidence—its head panting on her lap.

He’s reminded of the word.

Sick.

Lumina won’t let go of the lightbulb. She’s muttering and growing more frustrated and she won’t let go. They stand on the line.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

As life fades from the creature eyes, Din catches a flicker of light from her palm.

He never tells her.

He is resolved to himself, his guilt, and his love.

---

They are.

She is.

But so is he.

In that, there is comfort.

Perhaps peace.

In time, forgiveness.

---

The Marshal tells them there’s only one spare room, neither are sure if he’s lying but they don’t push. Lumina spends ages at the fresher sink, washing away blood. Din strips himself of armor.

They make do.

“I can stay outside,” he suggests. “Keep watch.”

“For what?”

He shrugs, sitting on the edge of the bed.

They don’t do well with silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Exhibit A.

Lumina shrugs. “I deserved it.”

He says her name.

She steps in-between his legs, taking off his helmet. The hissing lacks its usual terror in her soul. His as well. “I ruined your life. You fucked me and left. It’s okay, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, whispered. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” His head leans against her stomach, his eyes shut tight. “Gods I’m so sorry.”

She almost warns against his prayer, but it is proof of her. Of them. She wants to say it’s okay again, that she would leave herself if given the chance.

Lumina considers the possibility that she is becoming kind by not saying anything at all.

She pets his hair.

“You hurt me,” she says. “On purpose. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything.” She feels his mouth open, close, and open again. “I have to protect the kid.”

“From me.”

“No. You’re the reason he’s alive. I know you wouldn’t hurt him but… I don’t want him to end up like you. I have to protect him the way someone should have protected you. You—You’re so unhappy. All the time. I don’t know if you’ve ever been happy.”

“I was happy on Naboo.”

“You almost drowned yourself.”

“I can’t swim.” She shrugs. “I wanted to go while things were still good.”

Din swears. He looks up at her with wide brown eyes, his chin on her stomach. She cups his jaw.

“I’m happy with Boba,” Lumina says. “I’m happy being outside… I was happy with you. I was always happy with you. Happy with your kid. I never taught him anything bad. Ever. You have to believe that.”

“I do. But I need the kid to be happy Lu, I need that. He needs that. I can’t have him growing up and not be able to have doors to his room, or set knives at the table. I can’t be scared that someday he’s just gonna… What happened between us… I didn’t mean to—not that I regret it. I don’t, and I shouldn’t have left, and I do—” he stops short. “I do——I do. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t let you back in. I don’t know what’s happening to you, but I won’t put the kid through it. I won’t let him watch you fade. I’m sorry.”

Lumina leans over, dragging Din into a gentle kiss. “I understand.”

---

They don’t mean to go longer. They don’t mean to undress. They don’t mean to repeat mistakes.

Or they do.

The longer the night goes, they do.

They mean every bit.

---

There is a certain exhaustion which comes with the onset of perpetual grief. It is all encapsulating, a black lace veil over the vision of life. Lumina, through all her years of grief has known nothing but exhaustion. For the life of her, she cannot imagine a life without.

That is why the dark is comforting. In a literal and spiritual sense. The dark side, that being of the Force, is her sole provider, the fuel of her life. She is pained and miserable, but finds it a comforting sign she is aware enough to still recognize pain.

She is not totally lost, only misguided.

The literal darkness is less neurotic, though more a psychology. She can’t see in front of her face, much less her company to the left, so she considers the situation an overall win.

Yes there is darkness, yes she alone, yes she is burdened. This is normal, though she wishes it weren’t. 

Her wrist hurts.

So does the rest, but the former is a constant reminder.

It’s a little ironic. The strength of a Sith comes in total control and she is uncontrollable. She is a panic. She is unknown. She is abstract. She is unexplained.

A genetic miracle. A clone. A strandcast. A theoretical image of optimal health and appearance.

She shouldn’t feel so worthless.

Out of all the possible paths of life placed in front, she has chosen in error, the worst of them. No power. No family. No being. Mere existence feels selfish without purpose now. She was created for a purpose. Or so she assumes. Born of a darkness, forever trapped.

Escaping feels more a futile effort now more than ever.

Though she’d like to stop crying. 

Briefly she wonders if she is meant to be pretty when in that emotion as well.

As said before, everything is exhausting.

Everyday she takes on the new infections of illness. A light head when standing, a cough, fatigue, dizziness. She can’t stand for long, fighting became out of the question months ago.

Her skin is too tight on her bones. She can’t breathe. She can’t stop shaking. Her heart pounds.

This may be another aspect of sickness.

The end, if she has anything to say about it.

Something has to change.

She refuses to be found here.

---

The room is left tidy. Her escape is simple and discreet.

---

Din wakes up alone as sunlight beams into the bedroom. Half the bed is made, aside from himself it looks as though it had never been slept in. The other side is cold.

He dresses slow.

He worries. He worries after the fresher is found empty and dry. He worries when Cobb says he hasn’t seen her. He worries when the Weequay points out her missing bike. He worries until he’s handed a note left inside the cantina.

“Everything alright?” Cobb asks.

“Yeah…” he says. “Everything’s fine.” 

The eight hour drive back to Mos Espa late that morning takes a millennia. Scribed aurebesh burns a hole in his pocket:

Gone to where you’d hunt me.

Saying goodbye.

L.

--------

Chapter 39: Pyre (Interlude)

-------

Taglist: @lexloon​ @jay-bel​ @xsadderdazeforeverx​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny​ @hello-th3r3​

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it. 

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 24 Snippet

The tribe’s opinion of you generally fell into one of three categories: 

Paz, who despised you. 

The Armorer, who tolerated you.

And those who saw you as a harmless oddity who was welcome to stay so long as she continued minding the children — which had turned into therapy from day one, no matter how much anyone tried to pretend it was babysitting. All of the Foundlings lost family during the fall of the Empire. You weren’t encouraging them to draw pictures of their loved ones just because you couldn't come up with anything else better to do.

Problem was, if the grownups didn’t change their approach to childrearing soon (maybe let’s worry a little less about Breha perfecting her Rising Phoenix technique and focus more on managing her anger instead), in a few years’ time the Covert was going to have a passel of dysregulated adolescents on its hands, and in a few years after that, everyone in the Outer Rim would be failing to fend off an entire generation of behavior disordered Mandalorians. 

These were concerns you shared with The Manda’lor (you made a point of intoning it as a proper noun whenever you both were alone, just to annoy him), who quietly arranged for D-5 to drill a small hole in the tribe’s communal barrel of fuel. It took a week to replenish the supply, giving you time to sneak in some basic coping skill lessons between Rising Phoenix 101. By week’s end, Breha failed her flight test and remembered to take three deep breaths before she started throwing blunt objects. And when those blunt objects turned out to be grav charges, everyone started taking the nanny a little more seriously. 

(And if teaching Zones of Regulations to the Mandalorians was how you left your mark on the universe, then you’d die happy.)

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

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[kittyhasskittles]

Day 3 of Nitearmor week: The Mando Bonk of affection (ft my oc Toro in the back)

Bonus Panel:

They're so silly.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

Summary: A game of guessing goes right in every way for you and Din, your kind of friend, sort of boss.

A/N: Day 1 of my fic advent calendar and my first Din Djarin fic on here! Credits to my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie for co-creating the reader character and for our long conversations about her and Din. Keep checking the advent calendar Masterlist for more fics dropping this month. And leave me a little comment to encourage me to keep the fics going 💜💜💜

“Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” he lied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral even though he was surprised that she knew he was scowling. Lucky guess, he told himself. But how many lucky guesses could one person have about his facial expressions?

“You so were!” She insisted, sinking further back into the novelty ‘chair’ she bought on their last stop. It was a sphere half filled with tiny soft particles that molded itself to the user’s shape. She slouched on it as she continued watching one of her holodramas, something with a murder or speeders (or both) at the heart of the story.

“I was not.”

“If you say so, Din Can,” she said, using her nickname for him. He chuckled reflexively, unable to control his responses to her. Thankfully, his helmet filtered the sound out, saving him the embarrassment of finding humor in the humiliating nickname. He smiled, glad she didn’t know just how many times she’d made him laugh whether by mocking him or making clever remarks in general.

“I do say so.”

She was beautiful. Taking up the creed meant hiding one’s own face from others. To hide what would serve as the basis of others’ first impression of you so that your valor and your character would serve as your defining features. Vanity was not something he was raised with. Yet he knew beauty when it stared him in the eye and called him Din Can everyday. Or Tin Djarin. Buckethead when he really pissed her off.

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

Blood rushed to his cheek when he thought of the last time she did that. She’d gotten very comfortable around him in the months they’d been crew mates. All her initial jitters and jumpiness around him had gone and been replaced with her stubbornness, strange sense of humour, and a level of confidence she didn’t have with him before.

He had to chase her down to even get her to accept the job he was offering her as a travelling mechanic. He’d never heard of one before. And she was quite frightened of him after the kind of interaction they had at Peli’s shop. But he needed a mechanic on board. With the kid in his hands now, it became hard to juggle a failing ship with hunting bounties and caring for a mischievous kid who waited for the moment he took his eyes off him to cause chaos.

It helped to have a mechanic on board at all times. She was wonderful and came approved by Peli. Over time, she became more than his mechanic. A friend, he would be brave enough to say. If he were braver with women, he would say that he’s caught her sneaking glances at him. That he felt her twinkling eyes rove over his armor every now and then. Sometimes he was confident of it. At others, he convinced himself that his mind was clouded by his desire for her. By his desire for her to desire him too.

The matter of his expressions came up once again later after dinner.

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

He grunted, turning away from her to focus on the controls. They were on hyperspeed. There was nothing he needed to do with the controls. But to come face to face with her when she told him exactly what he did underneath his helmet was…too much.

“Heyy! Let’s play a game?” She asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Play with Grogu.”

“He’s asleep. And this is not a game for little potatoes.”

He chuckled softly at the nickname and looked up at her again, awaiting her proposal. “What would that be?” He asked.

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

“Dank farrik! I missed when you used to be quiet. Just listen to me. I’ll guess what your face looks like under your helmet and if I get it right, you should take a sip of your drink. And if I get it wrong, I take a sip. Let’s do it with the Silver Elixir,” she said, getting up from her seat to fetch the bottle from their liquor cabinet they kept locked to keep away from wandering little womp rats.

She returned with the bottle, two glasses and straws. They’d recently taken to drinking together. She bought him a straw a begged him to join her, using her sweet eyes and her adorable pout to convince him. She said she only had drinks with friends and that drinking alone on the razor crest made her feel lonely.

He gave in to her, just like he gave in to their little green crewmate.

She didn’t need to use a straw, of course. Yet she did. When he asked, she said it was so that he didn’t feel lonely drinking through a straw like a kid. Even in her insults, she managed to be sweet.

“Start guessing,” he said impatiently as she sat next to him and looked intently at their glasses to see if they were filled equally.

“Sure, sure… You have dark hair,” she said, passing his drink to him. “Dark brown.”

“A little too obvious, isn’t it?” He asked, knowing she had definitely seen his hair in the trash after he gave himself haircuts and shaved his facial hair.

“Drink up, old man!” She said, lips wide in a grin as she knew already that she was right.

He snorted, but followed through, taking a sip of the strong liquor. “Alright. Next.”

“You have….big green ears.”

“Wrong,” he huffed, smiling nevertheless at her sense of humour.

“Damn it! I should’ve known they wouldn’t fit inside the helmet,” she said, taking a sip. She was smiling too, and unlike his, it was out in the open and as bright as the stars around them.

“Those were two descriptors. Big and green. Take one more sip,” he argued. He didn’t particularly want to get her drunk, but he liked how adorable she was when intoxicated. One of their drinking sessions ended with her snuggling up to him because she couldn’t find the kid to snuggle like a children’s stuffed animal.

“What? No! It was one guess, so it’s one sip.”

“Again, you guessed the size and color of my ears and they were both wrong. Take a sip.”

She rolled her eyes, but complained, taking another sip. She leaned close and narrowed her eyes at him, as though focusing on his helmet would reveal what was underneath. He smiled unconsciously, taking in the beauty of her from up close. The light in her eyes, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was in deep thought, lips that impressed him with the wittiest remarks… Lips he wanted desperately to pull to his, to devour and make moan his name.

“No moustache.”

“Hmmm….” He hummed, thinking of how he could sort the point for this. He *did* have a moustache, but that was only now. There were times when he shaved it off completely. “It’s complicated. I have a moustache now, but I change it quite frequently. So, half a sip.”

“If I have to take half a sip, so should you.”

“No, I don’t,” he scoffed at her warped logic. Here he was, being nice and giving her some credit even though she was wrong. But she was trying to take advantage of it.

“Yeah you should. If I’m taking half a sip because I was half right and half wrong, you should also take a sip because you’re half right and half wrong.”

“No. That’s not how it works. I have facial hair now, which means you are wrong. I should’ve made you take a full sip, but I decided to make a concession because I am sometimes fully shaven.”

“Dank Farrik! You’re such a lightweight. Just say you can’t handle your liquor and I’ll let you go,” she taunted, a smirk plying at her lips.

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor much better than you can. Here,” he said, drinking the strong undiluted alcohol like it was water in a few big sips. He slammed the glass against the control panel surface and shrugged. “See, I’m good. You are the one who gets drunk after one portion of the Silver Elixir and terrorizes the kid.”

She gasped, as though he made a much bigger accusation. “I don’t terrorize the kid! I just give him extra cuddles and kisses. He enjoys them very much. It’s called affection, Tin Can. Ever heard of it?”

He tilted his head at her in the way that sometimes made her swallow audibly. “So you think that because of my way of life, I have never experienced affection?”

She opened and closed her mouth quickly, as though her mind and lips were in disagreement about whether or not what they were about to say was appropriate. He smiled under his helmet, proud of himself for stumping her. She talked a lot. Since he was a quiet man, everyone else was talkative in comparison. But she was the voice he heard the most as they lived together on the Razor Crest and their other occupant communicated mostly in coos and squeals.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Say what. Since the drinking thing was already disproportionate anyway because I’m not guessing your features and I can handle my liquor much better than you do….lets change the rules.” He took a deep breath, afraid of the consequences of his words but unable to miss this opportunity. “For each correct guess you make, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, the things she did without even knowing! He thought he could die from the anticipation of hearing her next guess. Would she guess something ridiculous like big green ears to make sure she doesn’t have to kiss him? Or would she make a very obviously correct guess?

“You have…” she trailed in a softer voice, looking at him almost coyly. “…pink lips.”

Not the most obvious guess. Not all humans had pink lips. And he could easily not be human. He didn’t remember telling her he was… But if she was going for something for a higher likelihood of being correct… Kriff he hoped she was. “Do you want me to turn the lights off or blindfold you?” He asked, conveying indirectly that she was right.

“Wh-whaaat? Why?” She sputtered, looking at him with those pretty eyes, vulnerability brimming in her expressions.

Did he get the wrong idea? Maybe her obvious guesses weren’t because she wanted to be right so she could kiss him… Maybe it was just the product of her usual playful nature.

“Because I will have to take my helmet off when I kiss you,” he proceeded to say, even as his heart beat faster with the anxiety of how this could go. They were adults. It it was a misunderstanding, he would simply get over it and do his best to not make it awkward between them. “And you cannot see me.”

“I…” she trailed off before letting out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Again. Not known for my humor,” he said, letting a smile seep into his words. She was so kriffing adorable, looking all nervous like a blurrg stuck in a doorway. “You don’t have to, of course. I can give you something else. Ten credits, perhaps?”

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

“Then tell me, my dear mechanic. Lights out or blindfold?”

“Lights out.”

Pity. He was hoping to see her pretty face when he kissed her. Not moving from where he was, he pressed the buttons on the control panel, turning all the lights out. In the pitch black of outer space, he could see nothing. Perfect.

“What can you see?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Nothing,” she said, in her voice so low and soft that it was swallowed up by the darkness. What entity wouldn’t want to swallow up something his pretty mechanic put out? Every word she said, every touch of her fingers against the trees and rocks and flowers. If he were air, he would luxuriate in her scent. If he were water, he would caress her skin and play with her hair as he cleansed her. If he were fire, he would creep into her skin, warm her up when she needed. But he was nothing but man. So, he would have to satisfy himself with a kiss from her lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked as he stepped forward to her.

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

There was silent for a moment before she said, “Yes. Kiss me.”

Needing nothing else, he took his helmet off and placed it carefully on his seat. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breaths grew labored. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

In all his years, he had never kissed anyone. It was not part of the culture of his people what with the metal barriers that kept them from it. He remembered the sweet kisses on his forehead and cheeks from before he took the creed. But that was not what his heart desired. He wanted the kind of thing she watched on her holopad, all the holodramas with characters who showed their desire through an intense kiss that left their partner speechless.

He reached forward and found her hand. She gasped softly, the quietness of the ship letting him in on her soft sounds. He caressed up her arm, enjoying the slight tremble of her skin beneath the tips of his fingers. He stopped at her neck and allowed himself to cradle it in his hand. He felt her lean closer and he reciprocated, taking the final step. He tilted his head to his right feeling that she tilted to her right.

As he closed the gap between them, he felt her warm breath on his skin. He swallowed, his lips parting from how nervous he was. What if he was no good? What if he didn’t have good breath? What if he’s such a bad kisser that she— he gasped softly as she pressed her lips against his. In an instant, she quietened the sounds his head. The fast beating of his heart, he realized was now from the effect of proximity to her more than his insecurities.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and wrapped her other arm around his waist. He let out a shaky breath at the intimacy of their contact and let his other hand trail down her back. She pressed herself closer against his beskar clad chest, making him wish he had the forethought to toss that bit of his armor too. He wanted to feel her. Every bit of her that she was offering up to him like she truly believed he was deserving.

Her lips were soft, just as he’d dreamt them to be. He’d never kissed before. It was an act saved for married couples in the covert, as only your spouse could see you with your helmet off. He had married friends who waxed poetry about the magic of kissing. How they felt like nothing and nobody mattered other than your partner. How it turned you into putty in their hands. He thought it was exaggerated… Until now.

He cupped her cheek, her face fitting in his hand and making him feel a new sense of protectiveness towards her. He’d protected her before, sure, but this felt different. This was something to do with a need to be gentle with her. To cherish her and treasure her. She licked his lips and he parted them instinctively, letting her tongue between his lips. He shuddered as her fingers threaded through his hair. He whimpered and pulled her closer to himself in the moment of vulnerability, using her as a crutch to support him. He’d never been touched like that before…

Her fingers explored his hair and he allowed himself to relax in his arms, even letting himself give her comforting caresses of her back. He felt her melt into his arms as their kiss deepened. She tasted of the silver elixir first, but when they were both a little along the way, he began to taste something that was distinctly her. Something sweet, mixing with the fragrance of her citrusy perfume to further dull his senses.

It was soft, but electrifying. He poured his passions into the kiss, exploring her with his tongue and luxuriating in the sweet little whimpers she let out. The technicalities stopped mattering. He was here, holding the girl he’d been pining for, lips connected as the unlikely result of a stupid game. That moment was all that mattered and her sounds of satisfaction told him that he wasn’t doing so bad after all.

She pulled back in a while and they let out the breaths they’d be holding. She let out a laugh and he smiled, comforted by her job. He didn’t even know he’d been holding his breath. He’d forgetting the necessity for breathing as he found her lips.

“You have…a big nose,” she said, confusing him.

“Huh?” He asked, his mind still clouded from her kiss.

“I get another kiss if I’m right, Dim Djarin,” she teased, pointing to his obliviousness when it came to things of this nature.

“Right,” he said, grinning as he kissed her again. He needed to play games with her more often.

[chiriwritesstuff]

... in Every Universe - A Roswell-inspired Modern! Din Djarin x F! Reader Soulmates AU (Prologue)

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Summary: At five years old, you're found wandering alone in a weird town called Roswell and have no recollection of how you got there. 20 years later, you're working at your adoptive family's diner and you can't help the connection you feel with the town's bounty hunter, who just can't stop staring at you... what happens when you're on the brink of death and the man in question saves you in a way you can't explain?

Chapter Tags and Warnings: Canon divergent, minor descriptions of violence towards the reader (she gets shot), flashes between different universes and POVs, eventual smut, explicit language, loosely based on 'Roswell' (the 1999 WB series), Grogu exists in all universes, no beta we die like men!

Word Count: 1.7k

Nova

"Here we go! One meteor shake and one Alien Blood for the lady!"

You place the drinks down on the table, a forced smile gracing your lips as you eye the eccentric couple across from you. Arching a curious eyebrow, you take in their vibrant Crash Festival shirts, suppressing the urge to snort. "So, are you two here for the Crash Festival this weekend?"

"We sure are!" the man excitedly says, placing an arm around his girlfriend. "It's our first time here in Roswell. Are you from here?"

"Proud to say my family's been in Roswell for at least the last four generations," you declare, a hint of pride coloring your words as you wipe your hands on your apron.  Sure, you think to yourself.  I was actually found wandering around town by myself not knowing who I was at five years old before being found by your adoptive father one night, but how would they know?

The couple's faces light up with excitement, drawing closer to you. "So your family must know about what happened all those years ago then?" the woman asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "...with the crash, that is?"

"Well, I guess since you both seem like nice folks, it wouldn't hurt to share this with you," you say conspiratorially, reaching into your apron and withdrawing a folded paper. "I assume you can keep a secret?"

The couple's eyes widen as they slowly take the photo out of your hands, their mouths agape in astonishment. Your coworker Omera rolls her eyes as she passes by, coffee pot in hand, chuckling quietly to herself. "You are so bad," she whispers in your ear. "You're lucky your dad isn't around, I'm sure Greef would sprout another head if he had to deal with your antics once again," she adds, offering refills to the two men at the table next to you.  

"Refill, gentlemen?" Omera asks the men, frowning as she notices their aggravated state.

"Does it look like we need any refills?" one of the men asks harshly, waving her off. "Just go away!" he shouts, glaring at her. She gives you a frown as she turns around.  

You wave her off quickly, turning your attention back to the couple.  

"My grandfather actually was working near the crash site when he was younger and managed to take a picture before the feds arrived to clean up the scene," you whisper, glancing to your side to make sure no one else can hear your conversation. The photo shows a grotesque alien amongst the wreckage of a crash site, obviously fake.  

"Does anyone else know about this photograph?" the woman presses, taking note of your hesitance.  

"Well, I know about it, and now you guys know, too." You say seriously, trying not to laugh at their obliviousness.  

"Woah, this is fucking insane!" the man exclaims quietly, looking at the photograph once more.  

"I'll be right back, alright?" you suddenly say, a serious look on your face. "Don't show that to anyone, okay?"

"Yeah!" they both sputter, the man folding the photograph and placing it in his pocket. "Your secret's safe with us!" the woman whispers, nodding.

You nod back at her, straightening yourself up. You catch up to Omera as she laughs at the mischievous expression on your face.  

"You are such a menace!" Omera playfully smacks you as the two of you make your way back to the kitchen, a satisfied smirk on your face. "Oh, and Din Djarin is staring at you again," she adds, discreetly nodding in his direction.

"No way!" you exclaim, pushing her into the kitchen. "Omera, that is so in your imagination!"

You turn to look in the direction of the man in question, your eyes meeting his as he clears his throat, quickly breaking eye contact and glancing at his young son seated next to him. Your breath suddenly catches in your throat as you nervously glance back at your friend, the collar of your scratchy uniform suddenly too tight and constricting. "Din Djarin? This?" you point to yourself, shaking your head at your best friend. "No, uh-uh."

"Oh, but with those cheeks and that smile of yours? How can that handsome brooding man resist the princess of Roswell, huh?"

"Omera, come on, cut it out!" you exclaim, waving your hands in protest. "...and even if he was staring at me, it doesn't matter. I'm with Cobb! He's steady, sexy, and totally into me!" you declare, nodding to yourself as if trying to convince yourself as well.

"It sounds like you're describing a golden retriever or something," Omera deadpans, walking back towards the dining hall. "Sounds awfully exciting, shacking up with the Sheriff and all that," she mutters to you, shaking her head. "Why have dependable vanilla sex when you can have exciting mysterious sex with Roswell's resident bounty hunter? I bet he could fuck you five ways to-"

"I gave you a week!" the man from the neighboring table shouts, jumping up and pulling out a gun from his pocket. "You're about to see what happens when you mess around!"

"Nova!" Omera's voice rings out suddenly. "Call your dad, things are getting crazy!"

Before you can react, the other man lunges at the one with the gun, struggling to disarm him. In the chaos, the gun goes off, and you feel a sharp pain as you're hit.

"Oh my god!" Omera exclaims, turning to the other patrons. "Is everyone okay?" She looks towards your direction, her eyes widening in shock as she sees you curled up on the floor. "Nova!" she screams as the dining room descends into chaos, the two men running out of the restaurant in a hurry before someone calls 911. "Someone, help!" she screams into the crowd frantically.

Din 

Din jumps as he sees the bullet go in your direction, glancing at his young son still seated in the chair next to him. "Grogu, are you okay?"

"Yes, dada," he shakily responds, his eyes glancing at your crumpled form. "Nova's hurt!" he exclaims, pointing in your direction. "Grogu help her!" he cries, attempting to get out of his seat.

"No!" Din shouts, "You stay right there, I'll help her, okay? Stay with Uncle Boba!"

"Din, no," Boba warns through gritted teeth. "We can't risk getting exposed-"

"I can't just fucking leave her to bleed out!" Din cries helplessly, looking in your direction. "I need to help her!"

As he rushes toward you, Omera follows closely behind. "Call 911!" he commands, using it as a diversion to keep her away, not wanting her near the two of you as he grapples internally with what he's about to do.

"Nova," he whispers, ripping your uniform away from your body, his eyes trained on the blood pooling on your torso. "I need you to look at me, can you do that for me?" he pleads, placing a hand behind your head. "Nova," he begs, "Please baby, I need you to look at me."

Your eyes flutter open slightly as he gazes intently back at you, his hand applying pressure to your wound with gentle urgency. Vivid images flood your mind as Din focuses on healing you.

In an instant, you're in a desert, brandishing a laser sword against a lizard-like adversary. A voice calls out, and you're struck from behind by a blaster shot. Then, as Din presses harder on your wound, you're transported to a spaceship, writhing in pain as you clutch your abdomen. A figure stands beside you, armored and mysterious, their helmet removed. But before you can identify the man in armor, you snap back to reality, meeting the deep brown eyes of Din once more.

Din breathes a sigh of relief as the wound on your torso closes, his eyes fluttering closed as he recalls the visions he shared with you moments before. She can't be, he thinks to himself, his hands cradling your face gently as he draws you closer to him, pulling you into the safety of his chest. "You're okay, Nova," he whispers against your ear. "You're with me, alright? Stay with me."

"Dada," Grogu's sudden cry breaks the moment, his face etched with concern. "Did you heal mama?"

"What did you say?" Din's voice is filled with disbelief as he looks at his son. "What did you call her?"

"Mama," Grogu repeats, attempting to reach you. "I felt her pain just now, I knew I saw her in my dreams-"

"Djarin!" Boba's sudden shout startles you, and Grogu protests as he's lifted up, reaching out toward both of you. "We've got to go, NOW!"

Din swiftly assesses the situation, gently setting you back down on the ground before grabbing a nearby bottle of ketchup. Squeezing it over your chest and uniform, he meets your gaze with urgency. "You took a fall and broke the bottle accidentally," he whispers to you, swiftly rising to his feet. "Please, if Cobb asks, just say it was a nasty fall, okay?" With that, he dashes towards the door, joining Boba and Grogu already waiting in the idling car outside.

You nod as Omera rushes to your side, helping you up as you watch Din jump into the car and speed away.

"Nova," Omera says, her voice filled with concern as she takes in your disheveled appearance. "What in the hell just happened?"

"I don't know," you stammer, trying to make sense of it all. You close your eyes once more, and it feels as though you're still in that spaceship, with Din's hands clasping yours as he gazes back at you, tears streaming down his face. Your heart races as you glance down at your wounded form, only to find yourself suddenly pregnant, your eyes widening in disbelief at your swollen abdomen.

"Stay with me, Nova," Din pleads in your memory, tearing away your tunic as blood gushes from your abdomen. "Please, stay with me," he cries, tears cascading down his face as he tenderly caresses your pregnant belly. "Please Cyar'ika, please don't leave me!"

"Nova!" Omera's desperate screams are the last thing you hear as you slip into unconsciousness, the world around you plunging into darkness.

[kidhellion]

POV: you forgot to turn your flash off as din takes the first bath he’s had in years

[whxtedreams]

Oath Broken and Soul Bound Masterlist

A WItch Hunter!Din Djarin x OFC!Witch Series

Tales of witch meetings, gruesome and horrific, were used to fan the flames of fear and ensure the harsh punishment and persecution of those accused of witchcraft. The subsequent actions born out of the fear and hatred for witches were far worse than the stories that inspired them. The persecution and killings of those accused of witchcraft were not just ruthless, but often downright brutal.

**Blurb is subject to change until i begin writing**

Astaria Lowell had sworn to never take a life. So when Astaria is staring down at the Kingdom’s deadliest Witch Hunter that she had nearly killed, she must do what she can to save him. Which involved bringing the Hunter into her coven… full of Witches. As his health returned, Astaria realised three things. Din Djarin had not killed her. He was now wanted by the Lords for breaking his oath and she was to be tried as a Witch. They were both set to burn for their crimes. They needed to escape the Lords, but they couldn’t do it alone.

A Witch with forbidden magic. A Witch Hunter turned oath breaker.  A pathological liar nobody trusts. A Dragon Rider without his Dragons. A grieving father with a trigger happy finger.

Five unlikely… friends, all needing a way out of the Kingdom for their own selfish reasons.

One impossible task they might be able to complete if they don’t get each other killed in the process. Or rather, kill each other.

Main Current Tags

WItch Hunter!Din Djarin, OFC!Witch, witch hunts, violence, author has researched but is still learning, forbidden love, Third person POV, fantasy AU, world building, pirate!Ezra, Dragon Rider!Frankie, Joel Miller just wants to be left alone,

Chapter List

word count // 1.8k

Part 1

1. The Hunter // 1.8k

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5

Part 6

the one shot that inspired this - The Hunter and His Witch

Other

Character Study

Notes

I am currently in a writers course and this is the story I'm writing for it. I am learning more as I write and may come back and edit things from time to time. The cover is hand drawn, don’t look at me - I tried. I was very hesitant to write an OC! instead of reader insert since I’ve seen a lot of people say they tend not to read them, but you will love Astaria I swear. She’s pretty cool. NOT doing a tag list for this series. If you want updates, you can subscribe to my AO3 and you will get emails when I upload.

[kenobiwanx]

here i am drawing din and my oc to let you know that my commissions are open! 🫢

[lovelessdagger]

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Repetition of Poetry

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Summary: So this is it. The end—or more accurately, its climax.

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Graphic Violence. Implied Torture. Derealization. Drugging. Angst. Medical Horror. Sith Nonsense. Someone loses a limb. Again.

Words: 8k

Summary: So this is it. The end—or more accurately, its climax.

A/N: Trying out a new way of formatting. The other chapters will be changed to reflect this eventually.

Masterlist | Starlight Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

Doctor Pershing insists on keeping Lumina restrained during their sessions. Her ankles are tethered to the legs of an iron chair. Her hands, free yet restricted in binders, inhibiting her access to the Force. He claims it’s imperative the holds not conduct electricity, a fear of intervention in his study. Monitors to her left attach to her skin and skull through stuck on wire.

Heart rate, oxygen, brainwave activity. A handheld device on the table remains constantly pointed in her direction, reading out any electromagnetic emission. He says she’s radioactive. She isn’t entirely sure what that means.

He asks, “Have you heard any more voices since beginning your medication?”

She answers no.

He requires she take three pills a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one just before night hours. The morning acts as a super nutrient, the middle for her supposed psychosis, the last for sleep. He watches her swallow, and checks under her tongue after each. 

“Any visual hallucinations?”

“No.”

She’d just taken the first of the day.

“Mania?”

“Depends who you ask.”

“Paranoia?”

She shrugs. “Always.”

“But no voices?”

“No voices.”

He types, maintaining eye contact. She looks away. He stands.

“You’ve made excellent progress,” he tells her. “You should be proud of yourself.” He kneels, untying her ankles. “Your levels have finally stabilized to a healthy rate. Many of your symptoms are from a typical trauma response. With time and more sessions they should fade as well.” He takes her wrists, removing the binders.

“Finishing early?” she asks.

He stands, but tells her no, not quite. He asks her to stay seated, and leaves saying he’ll return.

Lumina listens. 

She considers helping when Pershing returns, struggling to manually open the doors. Even without the restrictors, there’s no point in it. She sits with her head pressed on the table, sure to leave a mark when it rises. The emission reader pushes against her scalp. She couldn’t understand the numbers if she tried. 

“It wasn’t easy to get this approved,” Doctor Pershing says, grunts in-between as he closes the door again. “But, I considered it necessary. For both your healths.”

Both?

A baby coos. She gasps, sitting up and only feels slightly faint.

Grogu squeals, babbling with hands in her direction.

She wells with tears before she can think. “Can I hold him?” she breaks. “Please?”

Pershing nods. “Of course.” He passes the Child over, he clings to her. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. Again and again. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Lumina inspects every visible part of him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” To Pershing, “What did you do to him? Did you hurt him?”

“No,” he says immediate, sitting again. “No I would never. He’s only a child. To be truthful, all I’ve done is extract a blood sampling. A majority of my time aboard has been with you.”

She ignores. “Did he hurt you?”

A wave passes through the Force; No.

She pets back his ears, nodding. “Okay.”

“You should know he’s incapacitated a total of eight stormtroopers aboard.”

“Did he kill them?”

“No.”

“Good.” She taps his nose. “Good job.”

“You’re proud of this?”

“He’s defending himself.”

“And how do you suppose he’ll react himself when he discovers you have rejoined the Empire?” He makes a wave to her uniform. “Is he expected to combat you as well?”

“If I ever to pose a threat to him, yes.”

He types again, clicking a persistent nuisance. “Were you ever expected to combat Lord Vader?” Readings on the monitors increase. “Yes or no,” he pushes.

“On his request. Yes.”

“Can you present an example of a request?”

Her foot taps. “When he first presented me with a second lightsaber. He threw it at me, turned on his own. The expectation was that I fight him.”

“And of the other times when he would become physically violent towards you. What was the expectation?”

Lumina’s head shakes. “That never happened.”

“No?”

“No.” Knuckles crack, pressed against her thigh. She grows quiet, confidence stripped away. “He never hit me. He wasn’t a monster.”

Doctor Pershing stutters. He says the Machine’s name, covered in disbelief. Like he were here in the room, standing behind her. She tries to imagine the Machine, feel his presence, his scratching electronics, his towering figure. The red eyes of his helmet, the pumping of his iron lungs sounding into their dead space of silence.

It offers little comfort, instead she’s supplied with resentment. She becomes the source of what he has left behind. Impatience. Intolerant. Arrogant. Miserable.

She becomes a vessel of her fathers torment.

Beeping from monitors become shrill cries. Doctor Pershing grabs the radiation monitor, waving it over her form. He remains unfazed by the results. He produces a lightbulb, holding it out. His datapad props up, camera aimed to her.

He announces the experiment. “Holo Log One-Twenty-Five under CF-318F1. Test eighty-seven.” She preforms her role, removing her gloves, taking the glass in her right hand. She holds its base, figures pressed around the metal. It indents her.

The results are null. She places the glass down, hands return to her lap. To the Child.

Doctor Pershing sighs, typical of this routine. The camera turns off. “That’s alright,” he says. “Let’s explore something else. Your bond to the Child. How did it begin?”

Lumina leaves him without response in favor of Grogu. Her fingers tickle his stomach, blowing kisses in his cheek. “You’re stinky,” she mumbles. “It’s okay. They didn’t clean me either. I’ll make sure you get a wash soon Bug, I promise.”

“Your relationship to him is greater than I suspected,” Pershing says, a glimmer of awe. “I never would have guessed you could be so… maternal.”

“I try,” she says. “I’ve only really known one before.”

“One mother?”

“Yes. She was kind. Gentle, but strong.” Lumina looks to Pershing. “You’ve seen my genetics. Do I have one?”

“Well,” he stutters. “Theoretically, every being has a mother.”

“So I’ve been told. But do I?”

“I… I’m sure,” he admits. “Though with no match in the database, it’s impossible to say who.”

“Do I have any matches?”

“I am not at liberty to say. I’m sorry.”

“Do you have one? A mother.”

He softens. “I did. Though it has been many years since her passing.”

“How long?”

“Decades. I was only a boy. She got sick.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes. Very much.”

 Lumina nods, pensive. “Would you like to see her?”

He freezes. “Pardon?”

“I can help you see her again. If you’d like to that is.”

“How?”

“I can enter your consciousness through the Force, granting me access to your memories.” She bounces Grogu. “I’ve done it with him. It won’t hurt if you consent, and I won’t touch you if you’re too afraid.”

He’s hesitant. “How do I know you won’t harm me?”

“You don’t. Not really. I know there’s nothing I can say to make you trust me. I could snap your neck if I wanted to. Make your brains blow from the inside. But you’ve been the only one aboard to listen to me. Respect me. Despite, everything,” she says to the monitors. “And you brought him back. I have no reason to harm you anymore.”

Doctor Pershing stares at her, he removes his glasses, wiping it on his jacket. “Okay,” he whispers. “What do I do?”

“Close your eyes,” Lumina guides. “Think of her. I’ll go from there.”

The art of presentation of one’s self is not a endeavor to be taken lightly. Absolute perfection must be achieved, errors will not be tolerated. A single strand of hair for example, raised away from the rest, shows a carelessness in grooming, lack of attention to detail, insufficient use of styling tools, stupidity.

Fingers with scooped gel run over white hair. Ghost glares in the mirror to achieve a flawless partition along her scalp. “Regulation states you must straighten your hair,” she says to the girl behind her. “Or at least pull it back. You look like an animal.”

There holds no truth in the statement, an unnerving admittance. The assessment of a mane isn’t too far off however, it’s fitting. Voluminous dark curls not too loose nor too tight. Slept in, cared for. Framing bright eyes, alluring everyone into a dangerous trap. 

“I still prefer you with brown eyes,” she continues. Hers meets herself, ice blue into ice blue.  Chilling to the bone. “In certain lighting ours look the same.” She grabs tweezers, plucking a single hair from thin brows. “I should tell you I agree with Doctor Pershing’s assessment of you. You are unsettling. I never thought of it much when we were in our younger years, but seeing how we’ve grown… how you’ve grown. It’s undeniable. You’re a freak.”

Ghost turns around, approaching. “How did they do it? Preselect you with such precision?” She whispers, “It shouldn’t be possible.” She circles, a vulture to prey. A pit of darkness in her hungry stomach. Starved. “Who else are you taken from?”

There is no response.

“A Jedi, I’m sure. Your genetics are your only flaw, and yet it is the reason you’re so…” She groans in frustration. Her bun pulls tight on her head, inducing frequent migraines. “You should have been kept in a lab,” she says. “Let Lord Vader keep his mutt for play, not legacy. It isn’t fair. Every day, years spent competing for his attention when you were preselected the whole time. Created for this purpose alone, and you remain who you are. The rest of us were left to starve, fight. You lived in a palace. Everything you could ever want. Power. Money. Glory. It’s should have never gone to you, you’re ungrateful. Even now, when they all praise you for merely existing.”

It’s worse with her presence in practice than it was in theory. They watch her every step down the corridor, every request is met with unnerving acceptance. They salute, they bow, they excite in the knowledge of shared air. Like she were the first and last woman in the galaxy, the answer to every problem, an immaculate creation from the Force itself. They’re all ridiculous ignorant fools, clawing for attention.

She revels in it too, this much Ghost is certain. She has to, it’s only logical conclusion for their position. Unending gratitude for doing nothing at all. A crowd at her feet, submission willfully given.

That’s the worst of it. The power. It suits her, she wears it on her uniform, in every stitch. The meek stray from their mildness, the arrogant from their ego. Ghost has seen so much happen without understanding any of it at all. The most loyal troopers in steady conversation with her, spewing glory to the Empire until she touches them. Their arm, helmet, hands. The intimacy cannot be afforded and should weaken her, yet it does not.

She asks of their person, their interests, where they are from. Irrelevant anecdotal information with no use. No purpose. Wasting time, energy, resource.

They feed from her because of it.

And Ghost waits for the break every time, for the branch to snap, wood falling to echo. Someone will make a mistake. Cross the unspoken line. This is a ploy to goad them into false security. A lesson on trust and naivety. To prove her rank, be the reason for fear and nightmares.

Ghost was so sure it would have happened earlier, with the TK she spoke to. She believed he’d done it, unleashed the monster. Be the cause of revelation of the inhuman creation Gideon boasts of, that Pershing obsesses over. They’ll all fall in terror. Realize truth never lives to legend. Understand an idols facade is riddled in a constructed narrative.

Then, only then, will they crawl to Ghost. They’ll rally, worship. Beg for her to claim the mantle, rise to the greatness of the Sith stand by the Emperor. Become the daughter that should have been.

And it should have happened. He touched her. He grabbed her arm. No warning, no context, only a firm hold. She stopped talking, animated gloves frozen. Her head turned. It should have happened. They should have been made to believe she is none other than Lord Vader’s child. She should have snapped his hand. His neck. Push him through the Force, impale him on her saber.

Ghost should have watched every light behind every visor fade to misery.

Her arm moved, her hand cupped. He should be hit, tortured, executed.

She should have done every horror imaginable.

The demon from her capture, the one who tore limbs and bathed in blood. She should arise.

Instead, her hand fell gently on his. It squeezes, then rests. She nodded. His shoulders shook like he cried. 

“I’m sorry. I’m certain they miss you as well,” she told him, quiet. 

Ghost didn’t understand at first. Having no lead of conversation to source from. It didn’t make sense, she didn’t make sense. It came upon her later, through an overheard conversation between Pershing and Gideon. 

“I theorize her abilities could be useful during interrogations, should the captive party not be willing to divulge information. It would be far safer than a mind flayer.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s done it to myself, with my participation of course. She’s able to infiltrate consciousness, resurface memories I did not know I possessed. I saw my mother, heard her for the first time in years like she were here. It’s extraordinary Moff Gideon. Like I could speak to the dead.”

Ghost understood immediately, and suddenly years of TK programming flushed away. 

“You’re a disgrace to the Empire,” Ghost says. She reeks of venom, it drips from every word. She looks to the air.

“It should have been me!” She shouts. “You promised me everything! Where is it? Have I not done enough for you? I expect my dues!”

The air rings hollow until a knock comes at the door. She grants entry. An officer, one of Gideon’s pets. His favorite. Kane.

“Thirteenth Sister,” she says, holding a data pad. “A report has come in from your Inquisitors on Coruscant. You’ll want a look at it.”

“What’s happened?” Ghost asks, taking it. She skims the words.

Code cylinder, Inquisitors, New Republic, Arkanis, investigations, the Senate, information leak.

“It seems the effects of the initial reprogramming weren’t as successful as we once believed,” Kane says. “Gideon has already been informed. He’s awaiting your word of action.”

“Where is she?” Ghost asks.

“Her quarters. Preparing for her last session of the day.”

“Is the alien with her?”

“Yes. It hasn’t left her side.”

“Tell Moff Gideon I will meet him in the bridge momentarily.” Ghost looks behind herself, static figure remaining. “Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Officer Kane bows, the doors close.

In an instant, Ghost’s lightsaber flies into her hand. The right end powers on, she swings rapid at the girl, a feral beast. Her red blade passes though the illusion with no reaction.

She screams at it. She thrashes like a child. She forces the figment to crane its neck, instills fear in its eyes. She makes it bleed.

Somehow, even now, it’s still perfect.

A gentle waterfall washes over the Child’s face. He growls annoyed, feet kinking in the sink of his bath. “Look at you,” Lumina coos. He splashes, giggling at floating bubbles. “You’re so handsome.” 

And decisively less dirty.

She pours water over him again, taking extra care behind the ears. “Your dad is coming,” she whispers.

The room they’ve given her isn’t a far shot from her previous home of a cell. She has a cot, a desk and chair. One tall lamp. A mirror. A small fresher area with a door that refuses to close. She’s been assured there are no cameras in the space, her own detection skills confirming. Still, there’s never a thing as being overly cautious.

Grogu perks up, ears standing alert.

“I heard him,” she goes on to say, draining the basin. “He found out where you are. I think he’s coming today. That’s why we’re washing you now. So you’re nice and clean when he comes. He’ll be so impressed.”

Lumina lifts the Child onto the counter, wrapping him in a towel. “Don’t worry. Come tomorrow you’ll be back on the Crest and no one’s gonna hurt you again. I promise.”

Grogu calms, but falls into this type of silence she hasn’t seen in ages. He knows. He has to, he’s smarter than he looks. Stronger. He asks no questions after, yet Lumina finds the urge to explain regardless.

“I can’t go with you, not anymore. But it’ll be okay. You’ll be with him again, that’s all that matters.“ She pulls his coat on, fixing his feet. “You’ll have to take care of him now. Make sure he’s okay like how he does with you. And you have to listen to him. Be good, do what you’re told.” She taps his nose. “But stay sweet. Keep training. Not be afraid.” Adjusting the collar, Lumina takes him in her arms. “Do you think you can do that?”

He nods. A promise of sorts.

“Good.”

Suddenly, something shifts in the Force, the unbalancing of a scale, slowly tipping. Grogu senses it too, she’s sure. He tries to stand, examining the room. It’s a cold presence, whiskers on his head upright. 

“Okay,” Lumina whispers. “Grogu I need you to listen to me. I don’t know how much time we have, but we have to play a game. We have to play pretend, and it might be scary. But it’s just a game, okay? Remember that. It’s not real.”

He listens to her every word.

A recorder clicks, a holoscanner powers on. Doctor Pershing introduces the recording as their hundredth and twenty eighth. He’s granted her freedom from his machines, just this once she’s sure. Lumina holds the Child in her arms, rocking him steady in a bundle of her old cape. The Mandalorian’s old cape, technically. Debates are still out to whom it gives greater comfort to.

In front of her, a green medication bottle, a cup of water. The second pill of the day. She takes the single dose, drinking away the taste, unusually bitter.

“How are you?” Pershing asks.

“Fine,” she answers, soft. “He’s been hungry, no one is answering my request for food. I’ve had to give him my rations.”

“I apologize for that.” He’s sincere, a growing frown and lines of worry on his forehead. “I may have something in my lab for him. Would a travel biscuit suffice? I have plenty to share.”

“You’re getting travel biscuits?” She asks in disbelief. “I’m lucky if I have more than one piece of nuna jerky. My portions are less than half of what’s normal.” 

“That is to do with the medication,” Pershing explains. “Your nutrients, most of your allotted income for a day comes in the pill. You aren’t starving, I assure you.”

Lumina makes no comment on herself. How she wore the torn shirt she came in after a wash and it hung to her differently. Her muscles less defined. “He still needs food,” she argues. “Real food. Meat especially, he loves it.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“You’ll do,” she pushes. “I’ve made it clear I don’t care what’s done to me, he needs to be taken care of.”

“Of course. I’ll speak to the Moff.”

“Thank you.” Lumina locks onto the recorder, she presents better, more fitting to her station. Her chin lifts, a facade of pride, her feet plant on the ground. “Let’s begin,” she says. “I’d like to spend the rest of the day with him in privacy.”

Pershing presents her files, adjusting his glasses. “Certainly.” He coughs, reading the screen. Though, quite uncharacteristically, he puts it down. “Let’s try something different,” he says. “There are pressing matters we should discuss.”

Blast doors slam open, an echoing bang into the walls. Moff Gideon enters, three troopers follow. They keep their blasters aimed for assault, focused on Lumina.

Pershing flinches. “Moff Gideon.”

Lumina asks, “Why is he here?”

“You promised me one more session, we aren’t done.”

“You are now,” Gideon says, then to his men, “Hold her down. Grab the Child.”

At first step, Lumina startles bumping the table, glass spilling. Commotion ensues, her chair falling back, left hand extended. Troopers begin to yell. They say they’re prepared to shoot. Pershing tries to intervene.

“Moff Gideon you must not hurt her!” He’s somehow more scared than she is, stepping between her and the blasters. “You can’t!”

“I am well aware,” Gideon says. “Worry not doctor, it will be delivered to your new laboratory as expected.”

“You’re not taking him again,” Lumina fights. “I just got him back, you can’t take him!”

Something crosses Gideon’s face. Something sick, activated. He looks at her like a starved to a meal. She could swear he salivates, smiling, teeth and all. “I don’t want the Child,” he says. “I want you.”

Lumina’s hand dashes to her hip. She ignites her saber, red blade waving it out. “Call them off,” she says. “Call them off or I kill every single one of them.”

“Moff Gideon, please,” Pershing begs.

“Quiet,” Gideon barks. He steps forward, between the troopers. “You have a child in your arms. You’re in no position to fight,” he tells her.

“You should know not to underestimate me,” Lumina says. “Last time you did that half your fleet disappeared.”

Moff Gideon repeats a similar motion to her, his hand drawing to his hip, gripping a cylinder of black metal. A blade ignites from it, dark and light all at once. Humming at a rapid and dangerous pace.

She stills. “What is that?”

“You aren’t familiar?” Gideon hums, matching pitch to the saber. “You will be.” In a violent strike his arm raises above his head and swings down on Lumina. She blocks, plasma clashing inharmoniously. Instinctively she turns out, creating space between Grogu and the scene.

“I’ll give you one chance Gideon,” she says. “I don’t play fair.”

“Neither do I.” And his blade swings again, lower. She matches, a scorch mark on the floor.

The stormtroopers fall back, lining the wall. They know better than to intervene, Pershing follows though his guidance comes with fear.

Gideon swings again, and again. He uses two hands on his hilt and all the strength he can muster, the full weight of his body. Lumina predicts his moves, the sole explanation he can think of for her excellency. Still, he moves in, taking advantage of her occupied left side. 

It doesn’t work.

Nothing works.

He can’t win.

In a desperate urgency, Moff Gideon miscalculates. For the duration of their spar she’s worked solely on the defense. Until now. His blocking is just a second too late. Her swing, right on time. Moff Gideon’s saber flies across the hold. His hand goes with it. Cauterized at the point of impact. He crumbles to the floor, clutching to his chest what was once his hand, now a deformed burnt stub. He screams.

Stormtroopers and their weapons flood Lumina’s eye line. Her saber powers off.

She says, “You forget what I come from.”

“I haven’t forgotten thing.” Gideon snarls, a beaten animal. He glares at Pershing as if he were responsible for this outcome. “Has sedative been delivered?”

Pershing answers, quiet. “Yes.”

Sound fades, hollowed in a canyon. Lumina’s vision darts to their table, green medication bottle toppled. Pills spilt. Her heart drops to unsinkable levels.

“What did you do?” She asks, shaking. “What did you give me?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Grab her,” Gideon barks.

They do. The troopers, in her shock they swarm her, yanking her arms. The Child falls. She snaps out of her daze when he yips. Pershing picks him up. Struggling, Lumina’s lungs burn with rapid breath. “What did you do?” she asks again, screaming. “What did you do to me? Ghost! Let go of—Ghost!”

“I’m sorry!” Pershing cries. “I’m sorry! I had no choice!”

“Let go of me! Ghost!” Her breath moves faster than she can manage. “Let me go,” she sobs. “Let me go, please. I’m sorry. Please.”

“Moff Gideon—“

“I’m disappointed,” Gideon interrupts. He stands on bent knee. “I expected so much more from you,” he tells her. “I imagine your father would not take well to your behavior.”

“You know nothing about him,” Lumina snaps. 

“I know he wouldn’t tolerate you betraying the Empire. Leaking sensitive Imperial data directly to the New Republic. You have compromised the very foundation of your being.”

“What?”

“The Arkanis Imperial Academy is currently under siege by journalists and investigators. It seems your efforts have taken effect quicker than you expected.”

It hits. Relena.

“She did it,” Lumina whispers. Her eyes flash wild. “You’re fucked.”

“This, is merely a setback. We will overcome.”

“We?” Lumina asks. “This Empire is nothing. What forces do you have now? Admiral Sloane? Commandant Hux? Scraps of what once was? You don’t even have Thrawn. You won’t win. You can’t. It’s over Gideon.”

“I already have,” Gideon says. “I win because I have you.”

“I’ll die before I help you.”

“If you insist, that can be arranged,” he says. “If the reprogramming doesn’t take that is. Of course, once Doctor Pershing harvests your cells, you will no longer be necessary.”

“What?”

“The drugs should take any second now. I should warn you, hallucinations are a harmful side effect. Although,” he muses, “you’re no stranger to that.”

It’s comical, the activation on his word. The flash of heat, beading sweat. “What did you do to me?” Everything is light, floaty, words sound seconds after they’re spoken.

“I’ve done nothing. Yet.” He addresses the troopers. “Time to move.”

They echo, “Yes sir.”

One push, her legs give out, a second, her arms. 

“Sweet dreams,” Moff Gideon says. “318.”

A third, her head.

The last thing she hears, “Take her to the mind flayer.”

They throw Lumina on a type of operating table, room separate from the rest. Her head bangs against the base board, jolting consciousness. They strap down her arms, legs, chest, forehead. Nearby electricity stings.  Her vision flashes in and out, hazed at the edge.

“Moff Gideon,” Doctor Pershing says. Muffled, miles away. “I must protest.”

“I’ve heard enough from you.”

“Sir please—please. There’s no telling what damage the voltage will cause. Her body will not be able to process high electrical currents in the state its in.”

They had taken her to the mind flayer, hadn’t they? It would explain the burning. She’s heard stories, seen first hand what the machine does to its victims. 

Extremist electroshock therapy mixed with sensory overload. To put simply, her own personal hell. The results enough to make Tatooine shiver. Stripping the sentient of all identity. Soulless, they become trapped in a shell of their own bodies. Some lose the ability to speak, to walk, some become so far gone their own organs forget how to function.

They become nothing. A permanent member of the walking dead.

“Moff Gideon I am begging,” Pershing says. “Allow her to come with me unharmed. I assure you—”

Heels click, entering the room. “The Moff is not interested in your negotiations.” Ghost. “Your services are no longer necessary, Doctor. It’s time for you to go.”

“You’re her friend, are you not? Please, tell him to spare her.”

“Doctor,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re attached to it?” Her face appears above Lumina. “Personally, I don’t care for mutants.” She rises, turning to the doctor. “If it dies, make it again. Make a million of it and keep one to fuck, I don’t care. It isn’t real.” 

“You’re wrong,” Pershing says. “She’s more human than you’ll ever be.”

Silence infects the room.

“Then she’s weak.” Shoes squeak against tile, turning. “You two,” Ghost says. “Escort Doctor Pershing to the hangar. A shuttle is waiting for him. If he resists, kill him.” Her face enters focus again, she grabs Lumina’s chin. “You once said you have an uncanny inability to die. Prove it.”

Bo-Katan Kryze is found on a planet called Lafete in the Outer Rim. Cara and Fennec opt to in the Slave I while Din goes with Boba Fett. Their brief discussion of a plan is the most they’ve said to another since Nevarro. Boba warns Din that he and Bo-Katan may not see eye to eye. She doesn’t like clones, he doesn’t expand, but something tells Din the river runs deep. The situation is far more personal than he can divulge from silence, but he knows not to push.

They agree to let Din do the talking.

He and Boba walk into the cantina, finding Bo-Katan with Koska Reeves. The younger one snickers, signaling Bo-Katan with a toe tap to the calf. 

He tells Bo-Katan of the Child. Stolen by Moff Gideon. He tells her they have coordinates to find him. Everything is ready, he just needs muscle.

Her interest turns. Din mentions her of his light cruiser, preemptively offering it to her. 

“You want to retake Mandalore,” he says. “You do it in that, not a gauntlet.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Boba mutters. “Mandalore? The Empire turned that planet to glass. There’s nothing left. Reclaiming is a spice dream.”

The domino starts here. Back and forth spats. Who is and isn’t Mandalorian. Boba’s armor. His father. His existence.

“You are a clone,” Bo-Katan sneers. “I’ve heard your voice thousands of times.”

He responds on instinct. “Does that include my sister?”

Her brows raise. “So, you’re the Imperial lapdog I’ve heard so much about.” Her stare flickers to Din. “You sure know how to pick your company.”

Boba responds before he can. “Where are they?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Conversation lulls. Din can sense Boba’s eyes on him, through the visor. Bo-Katan follows, exposed, she frowns.

“Where’s my sister?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She’s earnest. “Omega dropped off the map after the war ended. I haven’t heard from her since.”

Boba’s nod is robotic. Up. Down. “And the other two?”

“Alive.”

“Where?”

Intention falls behind every word Bo-Katan speaks, mimicking a knife’s edge. “If you know what’s good, you’ll leave them alone. They don’t need you in their lives. You clones have done enough.”

“Is that what you tell him when he asks of his father? I recall only clones being at the wake. If you care so much, where were you?“

She says nothing.

He continues. “The Empire has taken his child, you know how this ends. You’ve seen the effects. Frankly princess, I don’t care how much you hate me or my kind. But if I find out there have been days where you’ve looked that boy in the eye and told him that his father was a bad man—”

“I haven’t,” Bo-Katan says, quick on the draw. “His mother is one of the only friends I have left. She’s my family. I know what he did. The sacrifices he made. How happy he made her. I would never disparage him,” she says. ”I don’t know where your sister is, but I do know that none of them would want to see you. Not after everything.”

Boba is quiet, just for a moment. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t scoff or shake his head. He just stands there.

“They took her too,” he says. “Moff Gideon took her. She’s gone.”

Bo-Katan asks, “Who?”

Din answers, “Lumina.”

She looks at Boba. “How do you know her?” 

He answers slow, accent thick and low. “Why do you think the Empire hired me?”

Bo-Katan freezes where she sits. Din can’t make out much, she hardly gives anything at all. But he watches her eyes, how they flash. Her subtle but present hitching breath. She doesn’t look at Din, only Boba Fett. Boba Fett who says nothing else but nods. 

She nods back.

Koska looks just as lost as he is. He can find comfort in that.

“We will help you,” Bo-Katan says. “Both of you. In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore.” Then to Din, “If you should manage to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our home world for far too long.”

“Fair enough,” Din says.

“As for the girl, I will take her—“

“She stays with me,” Boba interrupts. “I raised her, I’m the only one she trusts. She won’t go with anyone else. I will not debate this.”

Bo-Katan concedes. “Fine.” She turns to Din. “One more thing. Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything. Except for pure beskar. I agree to your conditions on the terms that I be the one to kill the Moff and retake what is rightfully mine. With the Darksaber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach.”

“Help me rescue the Child and you can have whatever you want,” Din says. “He is my only priority.”

Capturing Doctor Pershing is a task easier said than done. Information from the data capture on Morak detailed a scheduled departure for the scientist on a Lambda class shuttle. Tracking coordinates included.

Boba makes quick work of it once discovered, blasting the fighter with an ion cannon. “Lower your shields,” he pings. “Disengage all transponders, prepare for boarding.” He turns to Din, standing behind. “That means you too.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I got that.”

He threatens Cara, or he tries to threaten Cara. The older of the two pilots. He shoots his companion dead for trying to negotiate. He brings up Alderraan, boasting at its destruction.

“I was on the Death Star,” he says. “My brother pulled the switch.”

Cara spares Din a look through the corner of her vision. “Maybe they were friends,” she says.

“Not the time,” Din mutters.

“Do you have any idea how many millions were killed on those bases?” The pilot asks. “Mothers. Fathers. Sons. Daughters. How many people were there just for a job?”

Funny, the point is less sympathetic when he says it.

“The Rebels slaughtered them with no mercy and the galaxy cheered.”

“Last chance,” Cara says, turning her blaster. “I don’t have time for this.”

He says, “Destroying your planet was a small price to pay to pay to ride the galaxy of terrorism.”

Cara shoots him between the eyes and steps over his body. She grabs Doctor Pershing by the arm, pulling him forward. “Let’s go.”

The room is dark.

No, dark does no justice to adequately describe the state of things.

The room is filled with ink.

There are no lights, no sounds, no breeze coming from ventilation shafts. Everything is off, not a hint of energy, not a spark. There are no wires, no monitors, no trackers. The Force itself ceases to exist.

For a long time, Lumina stays in the ink, unmoving. Hours pass with believing she still sleeps, or worse. Caught in a limbo, trapped in her own consciousness she’s rendered unable to move even muscle.

Feeling returns slow, unnoticed until recognition comes with the familiar pressure of fingertips against her thighs. A cool block against her back. In an instant her eyes flash open, greeted by the complete nothingness. Her nerves reawaken through pumping blood, a small fire throughout her body.

Slow and in desperation, she feels along herself. For each of her limbs, fingers, all still attached. She pinches her tongue, then runs it along her teeth. There are no cuts on her face, no tenderness which indicates bruising. She’s clothed, left in the base of a skintight suit.

She explores the cell in caution, running her hands over every inch she can. The walls are smooth, cold. Seams of panelling are flush, nothing is loose, not a screw out of place. The door is found by its indent in the wall, sealed shut with no forgiveness for movement. 

She knocks, startling herself with the echo.

She knocks again.

Mouth dry, her tongue sticks to the roof. Nothing hurts, not really. She holds tension in her jaw, a light headache but nothing more. 

She can’t remember much of anything, but against all odds she feels refreshed.

What happened?

Her voice is hoarse, crackling. “Hello?”  She coughs. “Hello?”

She can’t exactly call for anyone specific, names evade her at the moment. There’s no guarantee anyone would hear her anyways, let alone come. She slumps back, stepping to what she assumes is the rooms middle.

Very well. 

“This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser,” Bo-Katan says within the Slave I. “In the old days it would carry a crew of several hundred. Now it operates with a tiny fraction fo that.”

“Your assessment is misleading,” Doctor Pershing says.

“Oh great,” Cara snorts. “An objective opinion.”

“This isn’t subterfuge, I assure you. There’s a garrison of dark troopers on board and the Empire’s strongest Inquisitor. She is the one who abducted the Child—”

Something in the air shifts, tangible inside Din.

“What?” He asks.

“What’s an Inquisitor?” Koska asks.

“The strongest Force users left in the galaxy,” Pershing says. “In the case of CF-313, trained from infancy to be high grade assassins.”

“So, murderous Jedi?” Cara asks.

“Jedi killers,” Fennec corrects. 

“A crude definition, but yes,” Pershing says. “313 has taken it upon herself to enact as Grand Inquisitor, their leader. She possesses all the skill and strength of Jedi, only dangerous, violent. Unlike Jedi, she has no moral code preventing her from victory.”

“You’re saying she took the Child?” Din asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s not right,” he mutters. He feels the sensation of a migraine, lingering in the entrance of his mind. He swears under his breath.

Cara asks, “You okay?”

“What do you mean—she didn’t take the kid,” he argues. “She… Lu…”

Bo-Katan says, “Take him up to Fett.”

Cara grabs his arm, he pushes her away. “No, no. What are you talking about?” He asks Pershing. “What does she look like?”

“Mando,” Cara whispers.

He repeats. “What does she look like?”

Pershing shifts, his vision flickers from side to side. “Her physical make up places her height at 180. She is extremely pale, white hair, thin. Overall in excellent health.”

“Who told her to take the Child?”

“Pardon?”

“Someone gave her directives. Who?”

“To my knowledge, Moff Gideon prepared strict instructions to all forces that the Child… and you, remain unharmed. The Empire’s use for the Child is now minimal, his extraction was not necessary. She disobeyed on her own volition. The Moff was not pleased, I can assure you that.”

“Wait,” Cara says. “If you don’t want the kid, why attack?”

“To retrieve the Daughter, of course. It was at the demand of her that the Mandalorian and Child be left alone should Moff Gideon pursue a second bombardment following his failure on Daro. I’ve seen the communication myself, she was quite clear on her threat.”

Din discovers his voice travels without his knowledge. “What did it say?”

“In short,” Pershing says, “Moff Gideon extended an invitation into the Empire and a total pardon. The Daughter declined. She stated should Moff Gideon attack again it be directed at her alone. Harm to you or the Child would result in an attack to his family.”

Cara reacts first, physically at least. Din’s stomach drops and twists. She bumps his arm.

“Who said this?” She asks.

Din answers, breathless. “Lumina.” 

No one else speaks, not until Bo-Katan raises the question. “Where is she now?”

Pershing adjusts the map. “When our final session concluded, she was delivered to this holding cell.”

“Session?” Din asks.

“We hold various appointments throughout the day. Psychoanalysis, medical, physical, etcetera. At the time, we had completed one for her psychology and mutations.”

“Let’s move on,” Bo-Katan says.

Din ignores. “What mutations?”

“She exhibits a variety of genetic anomalies. Strength, intellect, standard organ function.”

“Energy?” 

“Yes,” Pershing says. “Yes precisely. She’s a remarkable piece of bioengineering. I’ve never met anything like her.”

Cara voices Din’s thoughts. “Bioengineering?”

Fennec interrupts. “Your dark troopers,” she says. “They’re droids, right? Where are they bivouacked?”

The map changes. “They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay,” Pershing says. “They draw too much power to be kept at ready.”

“How long to power up?”

“A few minutes, perhaps.”

Din asks, “Where’s the Child being held?”

“The brig, here. Under armed guard.”

“Is the Inquisitor?” Koska asks.

“Perhaps. More likely the bridge. Wherever Moff Gideon is, she will follow.”

“Very well,” Bo-Katan says. “We go in two parties.”

“I go alone,” Din says.

“Our strength is in numbers.”

He repeats. “I go alone.”

“Fine. Phase one, Lambda shuttle issues a distress call. Two, we emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors. Koska, Fennec, Dune and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we’ve neutralized the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver. Afterwards, Fennec and I will retrieve Lumina before entering the bridge. There, I will challenge the Moff. If the Inquisitor is an issue, we leave it to Lumina.”

“You’re kidding,” Cara deadpans.

“I wish I were.”

“What about me?” Din asks.

“We’ll be misdirection. Once we draw a crowd, you slip through the shadows, get the kid.”

“What about the dark troopers?” Cara asks.

“Their bay is on the way to the brig.” Bo-Katan looks to Pershing. “Can he make it there before they deploy?”

He nods. “It’s possible.”

“Here. Take his code cylinder and seal off their holding bay. Anyone else, we can handle.”

Din responds, “We’ll meet at the bridge.”

So this is it.

The end—or more accurately, its climax.

The end is yet to come, when it does it will not be mistaken. The end will arrive slow, with agony, lingering words unsaid, and acceptance. This is not that, it is entirely too calm. 

At a vain attempt to track time, Lumina counted three hundred minutes before giving up. No one has come for her. No one has knocked. 

If this is the afterlife, she isn’t impressed. Though, it is fitting for one of her station. Whatever that may be.

Admittedly, the stoic peace is a welcomed wash from the usual chaos filling the day to day. As a part of her training rituals, the Machine would place her in rooms just like this. Completely isolating her from the outside world. In hindsight, he may have meant it as a way to desensitize her to torture, but she always enjoyed it more than she should have. Now is no exception.

Is this the future in which she swore to resent the past? What an odd declaration of intent when taken into consideration that her whole life—every broken fragment of her being, every lie, every name, every mask, every droplet of forced anger, every will she has held for good or evil—has been in reaction and the direct result of the past. 

This has all happened before, in one way or another.

The Machine, the war, the after.

Becoming a waitress, a mercenary, something to be wanted but never kept. Someone recognized but never placed. 

She has never been of herself.

Not really.

Those days, the before, they have no greater reason to be hated than the rest of it all. There’s no point in it. Directed anger towards one but not another. Acceptance of one but not all.

Why waste thought? Why bother when loss is inevitable?

Lumina looks to the ceiling, head tilting. She can’t see anything, true, but lack of proof does not equate to a lack of existence. The first outward sound she heard echos, turning metal. Landing in her hand, round glass. A lightbulb.

Commotion comes from the outside, a siren alarm, boots running across tile, shouting.

Truly, nothing has changed. 

It ends in the absence of peace, as it always has.

She suspects it is night.

Though an argument can be made that night as a concept holds no meaning here. Not in space.

The story has concluded long ago and there is still dark. Ink and tar.

And she resents no one—not for the lack of rivers, forest, mountains, farms. Not for the missing child to hold and call her own. Not for the Mandalorian—not even herself.

She has nothing left.

Finally.

No flowers.

No sun.

No stars. 

Though, somehow, through some conception unknown to all but the Force itself… there is light.

It flickers, just now in the palm of her hand. A faint golden glow. There it is again, quick as lightning.

Just as before.

When it comes a third time, it is violent. The door opens, gears rusted, light from the corridor blinding.

"Get up." She hears. "It's time."

So it is.

According to Din Djarin’s internal display, it's been exactly three minutes and eighteen seconds since Bo-Katan departed into Moff Gideons cruiser.

She instructed him to wait for five.

In the allotted time since, he has removed and replaced his helmet eight times. Once every fifteen seconds. Now, he removes it again.

Nine.

When before he was trapped in a slow moving vessel of spacetime, praying for the days end. Now, he prays for the vessel to stop. Time refuses to wait for him.

He stares at his own reflection in the window with no visible emotion and nothing but turmoil inside. What does he do? What can he do?

Nothing.

The headache grows.

Boba said it should have faded days ago. That she used to do the same to him, its only ever lasted three rotations. He refuses to dive into specifics.

Din isn’t sure it would make a difference anymore.

Hands rub across his face, sighing. He welcomes the fresh air like it were his first experience with it. It might as well be. This is something he cannot become accustomed to. No matter his personal wants. 

Delusions.

Fears.

It’s all the same.

All meant to be locked away.

The time for thought has passed.

His priority is in the Child, as it should have been all along. He must rectify his mistakes. Retrieve the Child, discover his covert, atone for his sins. Disappear. Forget everything. 

Okay, he thinks, okay.

The countdown on his vambrace rings. Five minutes. 

The Mandalorian lowers the beskar over his head until it hisses and clicks.

Ten.

This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force.

There is a reason attachments are forbidden.

It is the repetition of poetry.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Apocalypse

Taglist: @lexloon​ @jay-bel​ @xsadderdazeforeverx​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny​ @hello-th3r3​

[hunnythebee]

Stow Away Preview Day!!

Chapter 11: Finally Free

New chapter tomorrow at 5pm PST

Jo finally wakes up after a week long period of sedation. The bacta has healed her almost completely of her wounds and she is able to finally take in everything. Friends, new and old, the rekindling of an old flame, and a surprising new development guarantee that even though Jo has her freedom, that her adventure is not over yet.

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

✮ MINISERIES MASTERLIST ✮

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (part 1 - his POV) / Din Djarin x Reader (part 2 - her POV)

Word Count: 13,160

PART 1 - DIN’S EVENING

PART 2 - MAIA’S (YOUR) MORNING

➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

[the-mandawhor1an]

Revelations pt. II

Chapter 9 – Guided by the stars, connected by the force

Masterlist

⇐ Previous chapter | Next chapter ⇒

Chapter summary: Din leaves Tatooine to return to his search for other Mandalorians and a Jedi. Prospects look positive with Peli’s contact. Little does he know what events would unfold on his quest to find a master for Grogu 

Warnings: Canon-typical violence; Yearning; Angst; Din is down bad; Cameos! 

Words: 11.5k 

A/N: And now the other side of the yearning. Basically the season 2 storyline stays the same, there are just a few adjustments due to the yearning and also the fact that technically Din has met a Jedi already (cue Maia screaming she isn’t a Jedi). I was not anticipating this getting so long. Oops.

I'll be fine I'll be waiting patiently 'Til you see the signs And come running to my open arms When will you realize? Do we have to wait 'til our worlds collide? Open up your eyes You can't turn back the tide

Din watched as Maia turned her back and left, paralyzed. He knew this was the right thing for the both of them, but stars, why did it feel so wrong to let her go? »What did you do now?« Peli accused him quite loudly when she saw Maia storm past her. The mechanic rested her hands on her hips, drumming one foot in the sand. »She had to leave,« he replied, certain the mechanic wouldn’t buy it. She didn’t. »You sent her away didn’t you? It’s the middle of the night, how could you just let her leave? The city is full of criminals, they’ll have her for breakfast!« Well, how could he? »She can take care of herself.« Din gritted his teeth. Having to justify something Maia and he had agreed on to a third party annoyed him, especially so because he couldn’t tell the woman before him exactly why he couldn’t have the pretty brunette close to him. 

Peli sighed. »No getting through to this metal-covered idiot,« she shook her head in disbelief and sighed. Din felt bad, deep inside, but Maia was gone now. He’d rather focus on the task at hand. Luckily, Peli delivered delightful news. »There is a covert in this sector. One system over.« Hope was in his voice when he asked »were they the ones that were on Nevarro?« At least they knew him then and could perhaps help with his search for a Jedi. The armorer had first made him aware of the Jedi, after all. 

»Don’t know. The contact says she knows where to find them.« Peli’s gaze wandered over to the dragon’s meat that looked like it was close to ready. She nodded at one of her droids to start cutting the outermost layers of meat. She was hungry. 

»How much will this cost?« Din feared it would be expensive, given his desperation and people tending to take advantage of that. »How much does she want.« »That’s the good news. It’s free,« the woman replied with a shrug. The Mandalorian sighed, wanting to ask what the bad news were, but she continued »buuuut… she wants passage.« It was his best lead, so he didn’t think about it for too long. Besides, he wanted to get off of this planet and leave these emotions behind him. »Fine.« »Aaaaaalso,« Peli’s nonexistent eyebrows rose and she rolled her eyes, evading his gaze. »What?« »No hyperspace jumps.« »Sublight?« Was she serious? Din crossed his arms and scoffed. »No, deal’s over.«

»Come on, it’s one sector!« she retorted and rolled her eyes again, more pronounced this time. »Moving fast is the only thing that keeps me safe,« he retorted. »Oh, like moving on from poor Maia?« Ouch. Thank the stars for the helmet that covered how his brows had twitched as he felt the sting in his chest.

Peli’s contact, a frog-like alien, entered the hangar and allowed Din to swallow down the lump in his throat. It was necessary, why didn’t Peli understand? Maybe because he didn’t explain it. He didn’t want to, she would only discuss this with him until he regretted leaving Maia behind. Part of him already did. 

»I’m not a taxi service,« the helmet dipped towards the mechanic who just shrugged. »I’m aware. She knows of Mandalorians on her home world, I figured that might be enough to convince you. She and her eggs need to be there by the equinox, hyperdrive would kill her eggs.« Mando sighed and rested both hands on his belt. »And she is sure there are Mandalorians?« One very awkward exchange of the women later, Peli nodded. »Her husband has seen them.«

Reluctantly, Din agreed to take her with him. It was, like Peli said, his only lead towards finding Mandalorians. As the Razor Crest slowly ascended, he looked over to the city beneath him. Where was Maia now, he wondered. All he hoped for was that she was safe and that they maybe would one day meet again. As futile as this wish was, he wanted to carry it with him in his heart. 

His passenger didn’t talk much, or more specifically – didn’t talk any language he could understand, so he switched autopilot on and left her in the cockpit to get some rest. With heavy steps he climbed down the ladder to get to his bed. The anxiety about Grogu’s well-being still weighed on him after the altercation in the desert. Seeing that alien holding a knife to the child had done something to him. Before he opened the door to his cot, he took a deep breath. He had gotten so used to being around Maia, she would’ve been able to talk to him, to easy his nerves. It really didn’t matter what she would talk about either. Her dreams, the stars, her favorite color, what she thought his favorite color might be. All he wanted was to be able to look at her, the way her eyes would sparkle when she smiled and the dimples that formed on her cheeks. Maybe his favorite color was the green of her eyes. The same green eyes that glossed over when he practically told her to leave him alone. 

It was necessary. If he told himself that often enough, maybe he would start to believe it. His creed meant everything to him, and as much as he had enjoyed that kiss, he couldn’t risk breaking an oath he had taken so many years ago. That and he needed to get Grogu to a Jedi to make sure the child received the training he needed. 

He opened the cot to find … nothing. What? 

He didn’t have to look for long, as the sound of slurping erupted from further down the cargo hold. With the egg container open, Grogu had one of the orange spheres in his hand and subsequently shoved it into his mouth with another slurping noise and a gulp. Din shot up and rushed over to his foundling »Hey, stop that!« he gently pulled Grogu from the container and closed the lid. »That’s not food, Grogu.« 

Grogu got lifted in the air, his chin had a drip of the water of the container running down the faintly green skin. »Tasty?« The child let out a little burp and Din sighed, assessing how many eggs the foundling might have eaten before he found him, »alright, nap time, troublemaker.« As he carried the child over to the cot, he noticed Grogu holding onto an item of clothing which was now dragging over the floor. Din gathered the dirty and stained piece of cloth and carried him over to his makeshift hammock. When he wanted to pull the dirty fabric from the child, he was met with a rather large amount of resistance, so he inspected the fabric further. It was gray, stained. The stains were brown, perhaps rust-colored. 

Din felt around further until his fingers found the hole where the stain was spreading from. When did he last use his blade on a quarry, and since when did he leave their clothes just lying around in his ship? He raised his head to see Grogu peacefully snuggled into the shirt, snoring ever so softly. Suddenly, it hit him why the little one was so attached to this. 

This must’ve been Maia’s shirt, the one she had on when she was injured on Nevarro. It must’ve still smelled like her if Grogu was glued to it. The little one possibly didn’t understand why she was suddenly gone, Din hadn’t seen her say goodbye to him. 

Carefully, he placed the shirt over the sleeping child, as if it was a blanket. Something deep inside of him thought about just smelling it. Just once. 

Get it together, Djarin. 

He himself crawled into his cot and nudged himself into a somewhat comfortable position so he could get some rest. The last time someone had slept in here was when he allowed Maia to take the small private space for herself. What if his makeshift bed smelled like her right now? If only he could take the helmet off, just for a second. »Dank farrik,« he cursed under his breath. 

Din couldn’t tell how long he has slept, all he knew was being awoken from a proximity alert some time later. As restful as his sleep might have been, being ripped from it and suddenly on edge again made it feel like he had just closed his eyes. He swung himself out the cot and up the ladder to find he was contacted by some New Republic scouters. 

First he tried to pretend his tech on board wasn’t working, but the Captain and his companion were a little too adamant about Din transmitting. Sensing no other way, he steered the Razor Crest down into the atmosphere of the nearest planet, Maldo Kreis. 

While he avoided capture by the New Republic, his ship had taken some damage when it crashed and dragged across are large ice field.The fact that it broke through the ice and fell a few meters down into an ice cave, didn’t help the hulls integrity either.

Din must’ve lost consciousness upon impact, as he awoke with his armor covered in little ice crystals and his passenger shivering in the cold air. Promising her to get some blankets, he went downstairs to see the damage his ship had taken. The hull was in fact damaged, a large tear in the side of the ship allowed the cold to enter and render all means of insulation worthless. »Osik,« he cursed yet again. 

Grogu, whom Din had been looking for as well as wanting to check the hull for damages, had found himself at the egg container yet again and wanted to have a little snack. »Hey, I told you not to do that,« Din scolded the child, who not only stuck to the container, but also still had Maia’s shirt in one of his paws. 

Night approached quickly and with the hull broken, they would have to deal with severe cold soon. While Din had patched up the main tear with some fabric, the passenger, Grogu and him had to sit around a small heater to keep warm. As the child cuddled up to Din’s leg pauldron, they napped, but just shortly.

With the help of a disassembled droid and its voice module, the frog lady urged the Mandalorian to keep his word. She needed to get these eggs to her husband, as this was her last chance to have children. 

Din, still a bit shaken from being woken up by one of the scrap piles that used to be a droid suddenly talking to him, made it outside to do some repairs to get his ship back into shape. As shapely as the Razor Crest needed to be to make it off of this frozen prison. He didn’t want this to turn into a grave too.

Some time later, after a coolant leak and smaller tears had been patched up, Grogu came outside to him, but not to help his protector with the repairs. The child was very adamant to show him something. Foot steps. The passenger had left the ship with her egg container, and Din had to make sure she was safe out there. Who knows what lurked in these ice caves. With the child on his arm, he followed the imprints in the heavy snow and the thermal tracks once inside a larger cave system. 

It didn’t take long for the two to reach a larger cavern that housed two pools of water, hot water, as Din assumed, judging by the steam emitting from the surface and also by the lady and her eggs bathing quite happily in there. Being cold-blooded surely was unfortunate on a planet like this. He tried not to blame her, but reminded her he couldn’t guarantee for her safety if she went off without him. For just a second the sight of Maia flashed before his eyes, with her back turned towards him in Peli’s tub. He had risked a glance when she turned to him without much hesitation, wondering how soft her pale skin would feel underneath his finger tips. Stop that!

Grogu was sulking, not allowed to snack on more, now even heated eggs and wandered off while the adults collected the eggs to put them back into their container. He found a completely different kind of egg, white, with a stronger shell, oblong and upright in the snow. Insatiable as the little one was, he opened the shell of one of the eggs to munch on what he found inside. A small, white spider-like creature was hidden underneath the soft shell. A creature that gave a satisfying crunch when bitten into. 

Well, safe to say the disturbance and untimely death of one of the spiderlings awoke their siblings, and shortly thereafter, their mother. 

Din took Grogu and the tank with the eggs, they’d have to make it back to the Crest, this was their only chance. The few weapons he had at his expense right now could only do so much. A few blaster shots, thermal detonators and finally his flame thrower attachment. All of that just so they could run back to his ship and barricade themselves in the cockpit. It was the only spot left that he could seal. They had to get off of the planet. 

Just as the Crest lifted off of the snowy ground, the mother spider crashed down onto the ship, trying to break the transparisteel with its teeth. This would have been their end, ending up eaten or frozen to death, if it hadn’t been for the X-wings to return and the New Republic pilots open to fire on the spider. After a short exchange with the captain, they let Din run despite a warrant for his arrest. Sometimes people acknowledged that Din wasn’t a brainless, ruthless killer. Despite his offer to waive the bounties on his former mates, the pilots refused to help him repair the Crest. Guess letting him go without an arrest was the most they could do for him at the moment. 

Din didn’t press for it. He could seal the cockpit so they could at least make it to Trask, albeit uncomfortably and taking a lot longer than it should have. There he could stay for a little and get the necessary repairs on his ship, gather his energy and also work on a plan to find a Jedi, assuming he wouldn’t stumble upon one right after finding the other Mandalorians. He was certain his journey was far from over. 

The travel to Trask was bumpy to say the least, multiple timed he had feared the ship would break in half, especially breaking into the atmosphere was particularly shaky. The landing system was broken so Din needed his passenger’s help to manually land the Crest. They almost made it onto the dock safely, the thrusters giving out in the last second which resulted in the ship toppling over and falling into the water. After they had grabbed the Crest out of the water, it was covered in algae and looked like a pile of scrap, at best. He paid a mechanic 1000 credits to do his best, expecting his ship to be at least in working condition again soon. 

Din turned just in the right moment to witness his passenger finding her husband in the crowd, them hugging so tightly. He couldn’t deny it was a sight that warmed his heart a little. He wondered if Maia would hug him as tightly when they reunited. No ‘if’, but ‘when’. She had promised they’d meet again, when the time was right. 

Grogu called for his attention, the ever hungry little gremlin in his hovering pram, covered with the gray shirt Maia had left behind. He and the shirt were practically inseparable. The husband of his passenger approached them and thanked Din for bringing his wife to him safely. »I was told you had seen other Mandalorians,« he inquired, being pointed to the inn. He would get information there. Perhaps he could also get some food for his little companion. 

They entered the inn and sat at a table. Din took Grogu out of his pram and sat him down, ordering chowder for the fussing child. He either had an issue with being hungry, or he was fussing because he didn’t hold the shirt. That damn shirt. »I’ve heard there’s other Mandalorians. Do you know where they are?« he asked the waiter. It didn’t even take ten seconds of his attention away from Grogu for the child to have a small octopus stuck to his face. »Stop playing with your food,« he said softly and took out his vibro blade, stinging the octopus which subsequently fell back into the bowl of chowder. 

A Quarren approached the table. »I know where the Mandalorians are. I can take you to them,« he offered. »Where?« Din asked, pleasantly surprised that his lead was going in the right direction. »It’s just a few hours sail. We’re about to leave.« 

Shortly after Grogu had finished the chowder and was satiated, they made their way over to the ship to set sail. Most time of their travel Din looked out into the vast nothingness of the ocean, allowing himself to think about Maia, wondering where she was right now. Was she okay? Did she end up finding the voice? 

»Have you ever seen a Mamacore being fed?« The captain asked him. »The kid might be interested to see.« As Din and the child inched closer to the pool in the middle of the ship, the captain continued talking. The bars closing off the pool retracted into the ship. While he was talking, the Quarren suddenly hit Grogu’s pram, causing it to go under water. The lid had shut but the beast hidden underneath the water wouldn’t have too much trouble to break the small metal capsule. Din didn’t hesitate and jumped after Grogu, the bars closing as soon as he went under. 

Din was on edge. On one hand there was Grogu, somewhere under the surface, a monster that was hungry for him and his foundling, and on the surface were bandits, waiting for him to drown to get his Beskar. Every time he surfaced, they shocked him, poking at him with metal to get him under water again. Panic set in. This was his end. Dank farrik. 

That’s when he saw three Mandalorians land on the ship, take on the attackers and help him out of the water. One of the women offered her hand to pull him up, allowing him to catch his breath. This must’ve been the Mandalorians the husband had mentioned earlier, coming just in time to save his and Grogu’s life. »My foundling,« he gasped, the other woman pulling her knife and jumping into the water. »Catch your breath, brother,« the first woman calmed him down. Her voice was soft and reassuring underneath the blue and white helmet. A moment later, her companion resurfaced with Grogu’s dented pram, ripping it open to reveal a shaken, but otherwise unharmed Grogu. 

The green child was practically tangled in the gray shirt, quietly sobbing. Din took him into his arms, soothingly rubbing over Grogu’s back. His heart rate was still elevated, catching his breath while the three Mandalorians before him suddenly took their helmets off. 

Despite the adrenalin rush, frustration kicked in, this was another dead lead, more people having gotten their armor from somewhere while not following the way. They outnumbered him and he was shaken, also busy making sure Grogu didn’t start to properly cry. »Where did you get the armor from?« he asked the leader of the group, a woman with short red hair. She seemed a little offended when she replied »it’s been in my family for three generations.« Obviously, Din couldn’t believe what he heard. »You do not cover your faces. You’re not Mandalorian.« This made the man behind her scoff and roll his eyes. »Oh, he’s one of them,« he practically spit out. The distaste in his voice was obvious, but to Din this didn’t make sense, he was the one supposed to be offended. 

»One of what?« The visor turned back to face the leader. »I am Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze, I was born on Mandalore and survived the great purge, I’m the last of my line and this is my armor. And you are a child of the Watch,« she introduced herself and explained what her friend had hinted at. »The watch?« Din repeated, clearly this was news to him. »A fanatic splinter group of Mandalorians. Cultists, trying to re-establish the ancient way of the Mand’alor.« 

Offended, Din got up to his feet again, Grogu still on his arm and cuddled into his chest, drowning in the gray fabric. The sobbing had stopped, every now and then he sniffled a little. »There is only one way,« he stated and took off with his jetpack. 

He still held onto Grogu when he stood on the dock, watching how the three blew up the ship in the distance. The sun was setting, the colors in the sky reminding him of when he showed Maia the sunset on Tatooine. How many near-death experiences had she gone through by now? Why was he struggling with his task so much?

Walking along the dock, it was dark by now, he was approached by a Quarren, the same Quarren that had approached him back at the inn. »You killed my brother,« he said with a smirk, more of his men crowding the area. He was too exhausted to fight more, but then the familiar hiss of jetpacks surprised them, the same Mandalorians that helped him on the ship jumping in to support him once again. »He didn’t kill your brother. I did,« Bo-Katan told the Quarren, and a fight broke out. Admittedly, a short fight, as the fishermen and part-time criminals were no match to a Mandalorian, let alone four of them. 

»Can we buy you a drink, at least?« she offered after the fight, Din reluctantly accepting. He wouldn’t drink in public, obviously, but it sounded like she had something to offer. Also, he needed to know if they could help him find a Jedi. 

They sat down in the same inn, the three taking off their helmets again, drinking. Din tried to not be bothered by their behavior. Grogu had since fallen asleep in his little carrier bag. Also the shirt had been halfway discarded, now lying on the bottom of the bag for a little extra padding. 

Kryze explained that Trask was riddled with black market weapon trade. Their plan was to seize said weapons to retake Mandalore, claim rule of the planet and for her to become the new Mand’alor. Din refused to believe such a plan was possible, as they had been told the planet was cursed. Besides, he was busy. »I don’t want to help you. I can’t. I have to take this child to a Jedi,« he explained, gently patting Grogu’s head, who cooed in response, but still asleep. 

»How much do you know of the Jedi?« the red-haired Mandalorian inquired, and he thought about all the things he only knew from Maia or the armorer. »Not much. They are an order of wizards, they can move things without touching them. They wield swords made of light.« and they’re not allowed to have feeling for you. It stung a little to be reminded of his conflicting feelings towards her. »I was hoping,« he continued, »that you’d help me by the Creed. This child needs a Jedi.« Kryze sighed, she needed his help and he needed hers. »I can lead you to one, but first you have to help us with our mission.« 

Reluctantly, Din agreed to help Bo-Katan to take over an Imperial cruiser to seize the weapons before it could leave the planet soon. This was way too dangerous for a foundling, so he brought Grogu to stay with the frog lady and her husband, who had become parents by now. It sounded like a quick mission, and it seemed to be going smoothly at first. That was until Kryze suddenly decided to change the plan, to take the whole cruiser, while they were already on it, leaving Din with no choice but to help. They managed to claim the ship, Kryze held her end of the deal now that she had what she wanted. Din hoped he would not have to team up with her again, still unhappy with how she had handled the situation, practically forcing him to stay and help. 

In the end, he had what he wanted. A name and a place. Bo-Katan told him of a Jedi by the name of Ahsoka Tano, who he should be able to find on Corvus. He picked up Grogu and returned to his ship which would hopefully be good as new again. 

The Crest was … repaired, but in no way fully functional. It could fly and the landing system was running again, but it was patched up with netting and overall still looked like it was a pile of scrap rather than a ship. Just now a pile of scrap that had been salvaged from the bottom of an ocean.

Some of the wiring needed to be rearranged, something he had hoped his little companion could help with. Grogu could crawl into the machine’s hull to take out the wires Din told him to pull, to attach the ones as he was ordered. Well … it’s what the Mandalorian had hoped for, quickly learning that the child would not properly listen to him. Maybe he was colorblind and couldn’t tell apart the red from the blue wire. But then again, he let the wires touch, causing him to get a little shock. »Alright, come back out,« he said with a sigh, bringing the child to his little hammock after making sure the child was okay. 

This left Din alone in the cockpit, once again. He tidied up his ship, closing the entrance hatch Grogu had crawled through, packing away the tools that laid around on the ground. He realized the child had abandoned the shirt for once, it laying crumpled up beneath one of the passenger seats. With a sigh he sat on the pilot seat, bunching up the fabric in between his fingers. He was out in space, no other ship anywhere in the vicinity. So, he removed the helmet, eyeing the rough cloth in his hands closely. The stain on the fabric reminded him how him and Maia had met. Critically injured, taking advantage of him, in a way, but she never had him regret his choice to help her. Apart from this short moment when he had feared for the child’s safety, and for his vow to conceal his face. 

Where was she right now? Was she safe? Had she run into a trap, just as he had, and did not survive? What if she had called out for him in her last moments? Ever since she appeared on Nevarro, the Empire had her back on their radar, possibly. If not for Gideon, who had met his well-deserved end, maybe one of the surviving Troopers had notified others about her. Were they still on the lookout? Were they on the lookout again, now that they knew she was still alive?

His thoughts raced and his heart rate picked up, his mind taking him to dark places. He knew she could look after herself, she had survived up until Nevarro after all, but he worried about her so much. With his head falling forward, his face fell right into the fabric, his hands breaking the fall. He exhaled loudly, closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath. All he wanted was to know she was safe, but he didn’t know how to contact her. There was one thing he could hold onto: The hope that she’d come back, that their paths would actually cross again, as she had promised him in her very own, cryptic way. There was a sparkle in her beautiful eyes when she said it, bright enough to shine through the veil of pain. 

Pain he had caused her by telling her to leave.

At first he just remained in this position because he hated when his eyes started burning like this, glossing over when he felt he had lost someone close to him. But then, a few steadying breaths later, he registered her scent, subtle but hidden in every fiber of the gray fabric. It was comforting, in a way, being able to smell her and imagining she was here with him. 

Deciding his ship needed proper repairs before he could make the travel to Corvus, he stopped on Nevarro. At least he knew the mechanics here would be able to patch his ship up better than this. »Mando!« Karga greeted him as soon as the Crest had touched ground, the hatch only opening up halfway, causing Din to have to jump the rest of the way with Grogu on his arm. Dune stood beside the Magistrate. »It looks like someone needs repairs,« the man concluded, getting his men to work on the ship right away. His face lit up when he saw the child still with Mando, reaching his arms out. »Come here, little one,« he said and taking Grogu from Din, his brows furrowing. »What of the girl that was with you last time? I thought she was a Jedi?« 

And there was the sting in his chest again. He shook his head, eternally grateful for the helmet concealing his face in moments like these. »She couldn’t take the child, she had other plans. We split up.« I sent her away. They walked along the city streets, showing no sign of the fight that had taken place here not too long ago. »It looks like you two have been busy,« Din commented. Nevarro was so much livelier than he remembered. »All thanks to Marshal Dune,« Karga replied with a nod. »I’m busy with clerical work.« »Your ship looks a mess. Well… more than usual,« the Marshal finally joined the conversation. »I had a run-in with the New Republic. Long story.«

They reached the same building where Din had removed his helmet for the first time. The bar that served as the guild’s headquarter. To his surprise, the building now housed a class of children. »A school?« »Things changed around here,« Cara replied with a shrug. She glanced over to Karga, who was about to set Grogu down, announcing »we’ll leave the little one here so we can talk.« Din, still a bit worked up from all that happened on his way here, instantly interrupted »no. He stays with me.« 

»Mando,« Karga pleaded, »Where we’re going, no child should go. Trust me.« Dune, aware Mando was struggling with letting the foundling out of eyesight, promised him Grogu would be fine here. They left Grogu in the school, walking further to where they could talk more privately. 

»So, let’s talk business,« Cara said as she sat down in her chair. Din again explained, »I’m here for repairs, no business.« »The repairs will take some time, so you should have some to spend. We could really use it,« Karga tried to persuade him. Unfortunately, Din was extremely bad in declining a plea for help. 

Just in the outermost corner of the safe zone there was an old Imperial base, one that had been a nuisance to the city for long enough. It was where Gideon’s troops had come from, so it was in the city’s best interest to just have the base shut down. The plan was simple enough: Empty the cooling tanks, overheat the geothermic reactor and the thing will blow up on its own. 

Finding a way in, reaching the reactor and killing the cooling system wasn’t too big of a deal for the small group. On their way out, they had taken a slightly different route to avoid a run-in with some guards, only to stumble upon a room, occupied by two scientific officers. Upon further inspection, they found clone tanks on the wall. The Myrthol checked the documentation, as a holo-projection of Dr. Pershing started playing. The doctor reported to Gideon about blood samples, a donor being too weak to give more blood without the specimen being killed… He was talking about Grogu. 

»Perhaps, there is a way to obtain another donor. I heard you had encountered 414 recently, her blood would surely work better, being a human, and all.« Din’s heart sank. »This recording has to be old, Gideon is dead!« Karga said in confusion. »The recording is 3 days old,« the alien responded. »Quick, copy the data base,« Din ordered as Stormtroopers found them. Making sure to avoid damage to the terminal until the data had been duplicated, the four fought. 

More trouble would wait for them outside, so they split up. Din used his jetpack to get of the base and fly to get his ship, while the others fought their way back the way they had entered. 

Din’s thoughts were racing. Gideon was alive, and the Empire knew about Maia. He quickly started the Razor Crest to fly back to the Imperial base, just in time to see the TIE-Fighters that were coming after Dune, Karga and the alien. With a few well-aimed shots, his friends were free and he could continue his travel to Corvus. 

The Crest was now back and running, fully operational. Things seemed to be going well for Din for once. If it hadn’t been for the tracker that had been installed in his ship while getting repaired, the one which he currently wasn’t aware of. 

The flight to Corvus was long, but with the ship back in working condition, at least Din and Grogu reaped the benefits of a somewhat comfortable resting place. The autopilot steered the ship through the emptiness of space while Din could lay in his little cot. He listened to Grogu’s soft snores and sleep babbles until he drifted off to sleep himself. His dreams were somewhat pleasant, hearing a familiar voice in the distance. Maia was softly humming a melody, a lullaby his mother had sung to him when he was a child. His lips formed a smile in his sleep, still hidden underneath the helmet.

Landing the Crest was easy, given the landing system was running. Din and Grogu exited the ship, the child played with a silver ball, the end cap of one of the levers up in the cockpit. »I told you that has to stay inside the ship,« Din grumbled and took the metal sphere from Grogu, putting it into one of his belt pouches. Grogu walked more now, but he was still slower than Din by a lot, so he picked the green child up and placed him in the carrier bag. Grogu complained, reaching back to the ship with his hands. The shirt was missing, still in his hammock back in the safety of the ship. »Not today, kid. It'll wait in the Crest, otherwise it just gets dirty.«

Corvus was dirty. 

They reached a gate after some time of walking, the sway of the carrier bag lulling Grogu to sleep for a bit. Din stood before a large wall, watched by a few men standing atop the gate. »State your business,« one of the men ordered. The helmet moved to look up there. Well, what should he say? »I’ve been tracking for a few days. I’m just looking for a layover,« he explained. It was probably for the best if no one knew about him looking for a Jedi. »That’s a nice armor you got there,« the guard commented, Din almost expecting them to attack him just for the Beskar. It had happened too often. »I take it you are a hunter, then.« He rolled his eyes underneath the helmet. If that’s the first thing they wondered, this probably meant another side quest. »I am,« he simply stated, the gate opening for him a few seconds later.  

He entered the town, greeted by a rather unwelcoming sight. The forest outside the city looked dead, a green mist laid over the dead trees that also had crept into the streets. It was mostly empty, barely any life outside the small houses. The first person he had seen instantly left when Din tried to address them. Generally, it felt like a cloud of dread laid over the streets. He wondered for a second if Maia would’ve commented on the mood in here. Maybe she could have talked to someone without scaring them away. He was a bounty hunter after all, people feared them. 

In an alleyway further into the city, he found a father and two small children. They looked dishevelled, dirty and generally not in the best state. »You there,« he addressed the adult, »I need some information. I’m looking for someone.« Before replying, the man sent the children away. His eyes were sunken and he looked malnourished. What was going on here? »Please, don’t talk to any of us,« he pleaded. Din was about to respond »I just need–« when he was interrupted by the same guard that had let him into the city. »Please come with us, the magistrate would like to see you.« 

The entrance to the hold the magistrate resided in was decorated with residents of the city in torture cages. If they moved too much, they were electrocuted. It was unpleasant to see, even for Din. Not my business, he reminded himself, despite feeling the overwhelming urge to do something about it. Their pleas were quiet, weak. How long had they been on display like this? The magistrate had a contract for him, one that by sheer luck would lead him to the Jedi he had been looking for anyway. His task was simple: Find Ahsoka Tano, kill her, and be rewarded with a spear made of pure Beskar. An offer a Mandalorian couldn’t resist, and the magistrate was aware of it. 

One thing the woman said stuck in Din’s mind on his way out of the city. 

Jedi are the ancient enemy of Mandalore. 

Maybe that was why Maia was so adamant about not being a Jedi. But then again, her persistence had begun before they had even developed any kind of relationship. The pretty brunette wasn’t his enemy, she never was. She was a friend, maybe more than that. 

Outside of the city, the dead forest greeted him again as he tracked Tano, climbing over thick roots and ducking underneath fallen trees. Grogu had awoken during the travel through the forest, gently cooing every now and then when Din had to jump over yet another obstacle. When he reached the coordinates he had been given, he looked down to the child. »This should be it. Let me have a look, stay right here.« He took Grogu out of the carrier and set him down onto a rock, clearly in sight for him. 

He looked around, making sure Grogu stayed within sight. There was nothing according to see. »Dank farrik,« he mumbled. »False alarm.« But just as he wanted to go back to Grogu, two white light sabers were swung his way, luckily stopped by his Beskar. He blocked two further swings until he could activate the tripwire in his vambrace, tying up the woman for just long enough to think of what to do. Or rather, what to say. »Ahsoka Tano!« he called her name, raising both hands to chest height to symbolize he didn’t mean to attack her. »Bo-Katan sent me,« he explained, having to block another swing until she paused. »Please, we need to talk,« he begged, her head turning to Grogu who was surprisingly calm when watching them fight. »I hope this is about him,« she said, a soft smile forming on the orange lips. The saber blades retracted. 

The sun was slowly setting while Ahsoka sat with Grogu, the two force-sensitive individuals occupied with an intense staring contest. Din knew they were communicating, just as Maia and Grogu had been doing when she still was with them. This gave Din more time to think about the words the magistrate had used as an argument for him to accept the contract. Maia wasn’t his enemy. Ahsoka didn’t seem to be, either. Was Tano perhaps also not a Jedi and rather just force-sensitive and trained in using her talents? 

He took the time to inspect the Togruta that had just ambushed him. She seemed older than Maia, although it was hard to tell how old she could be. Her skin was of a deep orange, white markings decorated her face. She was tall for a woman, the growths on her head making her easily taller than Din himself. 

The Togruta broke eye contact with Grogu once to look at the Mandalorian, possibly having felt his gaze linger on her. She turned back to Grogu a moment later. Feeling safe to approach them, Din came closer to them. Ahsoka’s presence was so different from Maia’s. It was more like being confronted with yet another armorer, a powerful woman, aware of her aura and presence instead of someone purposely making herself smaller. She took the child and came towards Din, setting Grogu down on yet another rock before she herself sat down. 

»You can communicate, right?« he asked. He had seen it before. »In a way. We can feel each other’s thoughts,« Tano replied. Din pondered whether he should tell her that he knew something, but Tano continued. »He was raised at the Jedi temple on Coruscant. About thirty years ago, during Order 66, when all Jedi were deemed enemies to the Empire and subsequently killed, he was hidden away.« »They killed all Jedi?« Ahsoka sighed and averted her face for a moment. »Not even the children were safe.« 

Maia had to be around 30, maybe a little younger. Was she only now alive because she was born a little too late? Why did the Empire kill all the Jedi but then started capturing the remaining female force-sensitive individuals to turn them into … whatever? Din sat down with Grogu and Ahsoka, the helmet stayed turned toward Tano. »His memories turn dark after that. He’s lost and alone.« She reached over and offered her finger for Grogu to hold onto. »Can he still wield the force?« she asked, not breaking eye contact with the child. Din tried to find the right words. »I’ve seen him do things I can’t otherwise explain. Heal wounds, move things with his mind.« His voice turned quiet, Ahsoka not breaking the silence. »My task was to bring him to a Jedi,« Din finally said, freeing his tongue from the knot it had formed. »Well… what about Maia?« Finally, Tano’s head turned back to him, at the same time he felt his heart sink into his pants. 

»How do you –« »Grogu told me about her,« she explained, not even allowing Din to finish his question. Of course, he was a child. He didn’t understand why Maia was suddenly gone, all he could see was that … well, Din and her had behaved oddly around each other, and now she was gone. Din swallowed hard. »She’s not a Jedi. She said she can’t do what Grogu would need.« He sent her away. She was warming up to him and also the child, and he sent her away, because all he wanted was to rip this damn helmet off of his head to kiss her again. »Where did you even find her?« Ahsoka asked, leaning back as Grogu had stopped holding onto her finger.

Din closed his eyes, thinking back to when he had first encountered her on Nevarro. »I didn’t find her. She found us, wanting to make sure Grogu was safe from the Empire.« She would have died for the little one, and Din had almost let it happen. »Such a noble task. Do you know more about her? Did she ever mention a master?« Ahsoka inquired. »I’m just asking because… force-sensitives are rare these days and the name doesn’t ring a bell. She seems young from Grogu’s memories.« 

The Mandalorian found himself in a sticky situation. He was aware that Maia had hid away for years, keeping her identity a secret to keep herself safe. Because of him, or because of Grogu, she had interfered with an Imperial remnant, and now she was back on their radar. Besides: would she appreciate an actual Jedi knowing about her, when she didn’t talk about the order in the most positive way? But then again, Tano could have killed him straight away. And how had Maia explained it? Grogu felt their intentions, and the little one was very relaxed in the Togruta’s presence. 

»She had no master. Saving Grogu was a personal matter for her, she was part of the mother-project back then,« he explained. He dreaded his decision to tell the woman as soon as the words had left his lips, but he couldn’t take them back now. »I see,« she said first, turning more towards him and leaning forward. »I’ve heard rumors, but I thought none had survived. I can see why she wouldn’t deem herself capable to train a traumatized child, she was one herself, once. It’s terrible what they did to these children and women.« 

What was he supposed to say? This was nothing he could reply much to. Maia might have cared about the empathy Tano sent her way. »We really need your help. Or… he does,« Din changed topic, nodding over to Grogu who had fallen asleep on the moss-covered rock. »Let him rest. I’ll evaluate him tomorrow.« Relief washed over him when Ahsoka said this. It wasn’t a yes, yet, but a maybe. He could work with a maybe. 

»Can I ask you something?« he hesitantly asked. Now that he had the chance, he didn’t want it to go to waste. »You just did,« she smirked. »Go ahead.« »Is it true that Jedi have to live by strict rules?« He felt his heart rate pick up. Maia had mentioned a few things about why she didn’t want to be part of the order, had it still existed. »What rules are you referring to specifically?« He took a deep breath. »No attachments, neither possessions nor relationships are allowed. As a Mandalorian, I fail to see how loyalty to someone can be seen as bad.« 

Tano leaned back and inspected the armor, trying to read his body language. »Answer me this: Would you kill for love?« There wasn’t too long of a pause before he replied »of course.« »It is the fear to lose that can be a Jedi’s downfall. Desperation brings out the worst in people, especially if paired with grief and anger. Jedi are powerful beings, and this power comes with responsibilities. Collateral damage is a lot more severe if a Jedi loses themselves.« He had seen it, how Maia had mangled that one body after she got tased. 

»I understand,« he sighed in defeat. It was right to send her away after all, but why did he struggle with his choice? Maia was missing here.

The next morning came quickly, and Ahsoka held her side of the bargain. »Let’s see what knowledge the little one possesses,« she said as Din sat him down on yet another rock covered in moss. Ahsoka found a small pebble on the ground, rolling it around in her hand for a bit before she presented it to Grogu, who was a few meters away from her. With a soft movement of the hand, she made the pebble float across the air towards Grogu, who stared in awe. Din sat off to the side. 

»Now return it to me,« she instructed the child and presented the palm of her hand. »He doesn’t understand,« Din interrupted, but Ahsoka was sure »he does.« The two force-sensitive individuals shared an intense look before Grogu let the pebble fall in defeat. With soft steps she approached him, placing her hand on Grogu’s forehead. »There’s so much fear in you.« She sighed and turned to Din, an apologetic look on her face. He dreaded having to hear that she was yet again someone who wouldn’t help him. It came differently, though, as she asked him to come over. 

»Maybe Grogu listens to you,« she guessed and handed the stone to him. And just like Ahsoka had done at first, he held the stone loosely in between index and thumb and looked over to his foundling. »Alright buddy, lift the stone.« He waited for a few seconds, but Grogu just sat there and cooed as if he didn’t understand. »See, he is stubborn,« Din huffed, causing the woman to smirk yet again. »Try to connect with him.« 

Connect, how should he? He was no Jedi. 

That’s when he remembered the little metal sphere Grogu had practically stolen from the Crest. This must’ve been the connection Tano meant, as Grogu pulled the ball out of Din’s fingers without any hesitation. Din was ecstatic, praising the child relentlessly when he went over and took the metal ball from him again. 

The euphoria ebbed when he saw the expression on Tano’s face. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, when she said »his attachment to you is strong.« She sighed deeply and shook her head. »I can’t train him.« Din, almost offended, asked. »What, why not?« »His attachment to you makes him vulnerable for his fears. It’s exactly what we talked about yesterday. I have seen what anger does to a fully trained Jedi knight. I will not start a child down the same path.« Her explanation made sense. He had seen it first hand himself, despite Maia regaining control in the last moment. »Let his abilities fade,« Ahsoka recommended. »Train him like you would a foundling, in the ways of the Mandalorians. I have to return to the village, I have unfinished business.« 

»The magistrate sent me to kill you,« Din finally confessed when Tano was on the leave, causing her to stop and turn back to him. He continued, »I didn’t agree to anything. I needed your help and I still do. I’m willing to offer my help if you help with my problem.« His wording was a little unfortunate, as the child scoffed. »If you help him get trained, or find a master.« 

Ahsoka agreed and they went back to the village, but not before Din had tucked Grogu away in the Crest, finally reunited with Maia’s shirt which he had instantly snuggled into.

The fight took all night, ending in victory as both Ahsoka and Din stood before the city gate. She handed the Beskar spear over to him, it was for the best if it was in the right hands. »I guess I should get Grogu then,« he said, the pain audible in his voice. While he had anticipated the moment, having to let go got harder, the longer it took. The way back to the Crest felt endless, his heart heavy with anticipation of having to say farewell. Grogu was peacefully sleeping in his hammock, drooling into Maia’s shirt. »Wake up buddy,« he softly awoke the child. »It’s time to say goodbye.« 

Din held Grogu for a while, feeling the shallow, tiny breaths underneath his fingers, listening to all the coos and babbles. He would miss the little one. As much as he was annoying to look after, it felt good to be there for someone. Din had really warmed up to the foundling and was now struggling to let go. Would Grogu understand why he had to give him away? Or would the child wonder why he had abandoned him. If Grogu would even remember him. 

Not wanting to postpone the inevitable further, Din exited the Crest with Grogu on his arms. To his surprise, Ahsoka waited for him just outside the ship. »He’s attached to you. I can not train him,« she stated. Din stopped in his tracks, just looked at her, and let the silence mariante for a second. »You promised. I held up my end of the agreement and helped you free the village.« Tano approached them and offered a finger for Grogu to hold onto. »There is a way,« she addressed the visor before her. »Fly to Tython. There you will find an ancient temple with a strong connection to the force. In the middle sits a stone where you can place Grogu.« »And then what?« »Then, he may choose his path. He can reach out through the force. A jedi may sense him and come searching for him. Perhaps they are willing to take him in.« 

Tython. Yet another stop in this sheer endless quest to get Grogu to safety. And yet another almost-farewell for Din. He knew it would just get worse the longer him and Grogu were together. 

Why? Why could Grogu not stay with him? Why was the child a danger to everyone if his feelings weren’t in check? Why did anyone Din had warmed up to have to leave him? 

The end of their journey was approaching. Din’s legs felt heavy when he carried Grogu back inside the Crest, sat down on the pilot’s seat and punched in the next coordinates. 

His glove brushed over the data stick Myrthol had given him after their adventure on Nevarro. He hadn’t found the time to check it yet, but the travel to Tython would take a while. What he wanted to find on there, he wasn’t sure himself. Maybe he wanted to know how much they knew about Maia. The Empire was aware of her, and possibly of him. 

Finding the data about her wasn’t too hard, considering her file had been changed fairly recently. Din hesitated. Did he want to snoop around? Maia was gone, nothing he could find on here could change the fact. But then again, if the data said the Empire had captured her, he would have to do something about it. She said the voice could have been a trap after all. 

»Grogu?« Din turned his helmet back to the child. »If we find a Jedi… you have to agree to come with them, okay? I… wish I could train you but I can’t. You’re too powerful. Don’t you want to learn that Jedi stuff?« he sighed. »You could be like Maia. Maybe you could see her again.« Did Grogu understand Din had no choice? It was like having to let Maia go. It was necessary for them all. Although, looking at the information he had found on her file, he massively regretted sending her away so cruelly. He had known something was special about her, and there he found the reason.

They arrived on Tython some time later, Din feeling the dread deep in his stomach. He found the mountain with the seeing stone, but having no other option than to land in a nearby valley. The last part of the way they flew with the jetpack, Din holding onto Grogu a little tighter than usual.  

The rock formation looked odd, spiky rocks arranged in a circle with a dome-shaped stone in the center. He couldn’t decipher the carvings on the seeing stone, but it surely looked odd. »I guess this is it. Does it look Jedi to you?« They exchanged a look. What did he expect? Of course Grogu wouldn’t reply. He sat the child down on the rock and shrugged. »And now… focus, I guess. Find a Jedi, as Ahsoka said.« 

He stared at Grogu for a bit before he heard the engine of another ship. He watched as it landed a little away from the temple. »Okay, change of plans, we have to get away from here.« When he turned back to get Grogu, the child was surrounded by a force field that he couldn't get through. The child had his eyes closed, the carvings on the stone glowed blue. Perhaps this meant he was reaching out to someone, just at the wrong time. It was getting dangerous. »I’m serious, Grogu. We better get out of here.« He looked over to the ship, watching someone exit. »Osik,« he cursed. »I’ll buy you some time.« Din walked down the mountain to seek out who was following them. His heart was pounding, fearing another bounty hunter or Imperial. 

Shots forced him to hide behind a boulder, allowing the cloaked stranger to approach him. »I’ve been tracking you for a while now, Mandalorian,« the stranger addressed him. His hood was up, his face hidden in the shadow of the dark fabric. »Are you a Jedi? Are you after the child?« Din asked. He didn’t care much any more. He wanted Grogu to finally be safe. The stranger removed his hood to reveal a middle-aged man with a scarred face. »I’m here for the armor,« he announced. »Over my dead body,« Din growled and aimed his blaster. He knew Beskar was highly sought after, but he would not give it away without a fight. »I’m not talking about your armor,« the man corrected. »I meant mine, the one you took from Cobb Vanth back on Tatooine.« 

Wait. Din knew who this armor belonged to. Boba Fett, Maia had told him. »Are you Mandalorian?« Din asked. »I’m a simple man making his way through the galaxy, like my father before me.« He was evading the question, great. »Did you take the Creed?« »My allegiance belongs to no one.« Din rolled his eyes underneath the helmet. »and this armor belongs to Mandalorians. This armor was looted in the purge.« »This armor belonged to my father, and now it is mine.« 

»Who’s going to stop me from just shooting you?« Din asked. »The sharpshooter on the hill over there,« Fett smugly replied. »Will pull the trigger before my lifeless body has even hit the ground.« Din scoffed, »I’m wearing Beskar, why would I care?« »I never said you were the target.« The Mandalorian’s heart sank when he realized he meant Grogu. From a hill the line to the child would be undisturbed. 

A familiar voice came from the larger rock formation next to him. »And if you remember, I never miss.« »Fennec?« Din asked and his helmet turned to the elevated spot where the sniper sat. »You have good ears, Mando.« 

After some back and forth, they agreed to lower their weapons and approach this a little more well-mannered. Having thought Shand dead, Din asked how she was able to stand here before him. The assassin explained that she had been left for dead, but Fett had saved her life, so she owed him. This was the confirmation, this was indeed Boba Fett. 

Just as yet another ship approached, Fett had offered his support in taking care of the child in exchange for the armor. There was no time to disagree with Fett any further, as the transporter that had landed next to the Crest was Imperial. Practically stumbling up the mountain, Din got to Grogu as fast as he could, but still the force field was up. The glow was brighter now and it felt like the force field had become stronger. »Grogu we need to go!« Din urged the child, who was too focused to even hear him. He tried yet again to get through the force field, ending in him being thrown back and losing consciousness for a bit. 

When the second transporter landed, Din came to and decided he needed to get down there. »Stay here, I will protect you. I’ll be back soon.« Shand and Fett had fended off the Stormtroopers while Djarin was unconscious. The bounty hunter had put on his armor, and Din could see how a teenage Maia would have been intimidated by Fett. Seeing him fight in the armor was definitely a sight to behold. 

Realizing they were no match to the three, the remaining Stormtroopers boarded the transporters to flee, only to be shot from the sky with one single jetpack rocket. Victory tasted so sweet, but the celebration was cut short when a shot from orbit suddenly hit the Crest, tearing the ship to shreds. 

All was gone in the blink of an eye. 

His weapons, his gear, the little trinkets he had collected on his missions. His home was in ruins. The tech in his helmet scanned the sky and showed a large ship in orbit, causing Djarin to run back to the temple. 

On his way back to the child, 4 Darktroopers deployed from the ship and surrounded Grogu, who at this point had fallen unconscious, causing the force field to drop. Just as Din and Fennec reached the mountain top, the droids left with Grogu. Fett followed them with his ship, offering to shoot them down, but Din vehemently declined. It would hurt Grogu, so they let the Troopers reach the ship. 

»They’re back,« Fett said in disbelief. »Who is?« Fennec asked him. »The Empire. I can see their cruiser up there. I’m coming back to you.« And while Fett landed his ship, Din stood in the wreckage of his beloved Crest. Everything was gone, destroyed, burnt, nonfunctional. The only two items he could salvage were the Beskar spear and the little metal ball Grogu had fallen in love with.

There he stood, with nothing left to his name apart from his armor, the spear, and a massively broken heart. Din had lost it all. His child, his home and therefore all means to get said child back. But there was a shimmer of hope: Despite the differences in the beginning, Fett swore to help Djarin get Grogu back, whatever it took. Their deal had been the safety of the child for the armor. Djarin had kept his end of the deal, Fett could keep his father's armor. 

Din was sure he would need help to get Grogu back from this cruiser, which no doubt belonged to Gideon. 

While on Fett’s ship and on the way off of Tython, Din retreated from the cockpit. He needed some time to himself, to process what had just happened. With the metal ball in his hand, he sat there, wondering how he could have failed so drastically. Of all things, he wondered if he could have prevented this from happening. Perhaps things would have ended up differently, had Maia stayed. 

If you realize that you need me, I won’t be far away, I promise. As long as my heart beats, you and Grogu won’t be alone in this galaxy. 

Din closed his eyes underneath the helmet and focused. Focused on Maia, in the desperate hope she could somehow hear him. He rolled the metal ball in his hand, trying to feel for anything changing, any sign she was with him. »Maia?« his voice was shaky, but he felt something. A warmth in his chest and an undeniable presence beside him. »I failed. I lost him,« he confessed and closed his fist around the ball until he felt his muscles strain. Admitting defeat stung, and his breathing betrayed him. 

It was as if he felt a weight being placed on his shoulder, like a hand that tried to reassure him. His shoulder twitched, feeling the weight more clearly for a moment. She was here, somehow. »We found and old stone that was supposed to guide a Jedi to us,« he explained in the seemingly empty room, »but the Empire found us before that. Now Gideon has him. I couldn’t keep him safe.« He felt the burn in his eyes, certain a tear would soon run down his face. His breathing became labored, as if something was crushing his chest. He exhaled sharply, legging his helmet fall forward into his hands. The metal ball clinked against the Beskar. 

»I hope you’re more successful than I am, that you found who was looking for you, because right now it feels like I have lost everything. Grogu, my ship, you. I –« He hesitated. The regret he felt for sending her away only grew with every passing day, and now he blamed himself for letting all of this happen. Had she stayed with him, things might have looked a little better. »I miss you.« A sob shook his whole body and he felt the weight on his shoulder vanish, as if she had let go. He missed her, admitting it felt good, especially now that he was sure she had heard it… somehow.

»Part of me wants to ask you to come back, but I fear I will ultimately cause you harm. The Empire is too close, and they are aware you are alive because of me. Despite that, part of me wants you back here.« Feeling this weak felt awful, but he knew Maia would never judge him for it. Maybe she was the only person who could understand him. »I found out something about you,« he said more softly. The feeling of her presence had left, however. His helmet raised once again and he looked around. Din was alone, as expected, and the warmth had left. Maybe he had imagined her after all. 

Their first stop to gather supplies and help to get Grogu back was Nevarro. Although Marshal Dune was now part of the New Republic and first refused to help Din get Mayfeld, 4 words were enough to change her mind. 

»I lost the child.«

Why Mayfeld exactly? Well. He was Imperial once and knew the in’s and out’s. As he would tell them upon his liberation, he needed access to  an internal terminal, meaning they had to infiltrate yet another base. There just happened to be one on Morak, an old refinery. 

The plan sounded so simple. Get in, find a terminal, locate Gideon’s cruiser and out they were. Mayfeld and Din had to do this alone, as any other of his allies were either wanted or familiars to the Empire. Never had Din anticipated having to change out of his armor into a different set of armor. In general, the involuntary road trip with Mayfeld to the base, him blabbering on and on about breaking rules when things got messy, had Din think about a few things. 

Things he had to think about later, as pirates tried to blow up their vehicle. Having to fight without his armor was a new experience for Din, and surprisingly, he was a lot stronger with less weight on him. Getting hit hurt more, but he was faster like this.

They made it in and just before Mayfeld reached the terminal, someone of his past was in the way, an old superior Mayfeld had served under, who might recognize the human. They were out of options, the ex-Imperial said. If Din wanted to operate the terminal, he’d have to have his face scanned. With some hesitation, the Mandalorian decided this was his breaking point. 

‘Thanks to the sacrifice of someone who loved me. I don’t want to believe that love is wrong when it saved my life.’ 

She might have talked about something entirely different back then, but Maia’s words echoed in his mind when he removed the helmet. Grogu was worth breaking the rules. He was a foundling, after all; His foundling. What Mandalorian would blame him for doing anything ensure the safety of a child? 

After gaining the location, Din looked for allies to join on his quest. Even Bo-Katan and Koska were in it, albeit for Gideon’s cruiser and also a mysterious weapon he allegedly had. To gain entrance, they kidnapped Dr. Pershing, whom Din had a personal issue with for all that he had done to Grogu. While he was glad to hear the foundling was still alive, it only fueled his drive to make it to Gideon as soon as possible.

They made it onto the ship, but as it would turn out, this was where the fun only began.  

[lokischocolatefountain]

Daddy Issues

Other fic(s) in this series: Guess

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13 for some smutty talk

Word count: 768 words

Summary: You and Din have Daddy issues— your dad hates him— but you both get past it for now.

A/N: Characters co-created with my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie. Check out their amazing Din fic. 💜

You kissed the top of his helmet, the cold beskar familiar to your lips. You shrieked as larger hands pulled you into bed and held you tight like you were one of Grogu’s soft squishy toys. You giggled at his enthusiasm and placed the box of food you’d brought him on your side table before settling into your mandalorian’s warm embrace.

“I brought breakfast,” you said, looking up at him from his chest. “Dad made a mixed vegetable fry.” From your vantage point, you saw a patch of the beard that still made your skin burn from how he kissed you. The bulge in his neck that wobbled when he spoke. His skin… Oh his skin that was soft and rough at the same time. All things he allowed you to see despite his strict adherence to The Way.

“He cooked for me? It’s definitely poisoned,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep.

“Oh, not you too!” You chastised, slapping his beskar clad chest lightly so as to not hurt yourself. Your dad had made it clear that he did not like the man you brought home. He was charmed by Grogu, as was your mom and little brother. But on the Din front, he was strongly opposed.

“What? He’s made it clear that he hates me,” he said, shrugging it off. You sighed and agreed with him, knowing he was right. The first thing your dad had heard about him was you sobbing into his chest over your break up. Things had gotten better and the two of you were back together. But your dad’s rage only continued to grow.

“Eat, okay? I’ll be back when you're done.”

“Don’t go…please,” he said softly, his vulnerability melting you.

“You need to eat, Din,” you attempted to reason even though you knew you would eventually give in to his request. Your separation had not been easy on either of you and now that you’d found each other again, you were determined to make the best use of every minute you had together.

“I’ll eat you,” he said, hand crawling up your thigh and sending shivers all over your body that made every hair on your arm stand up. “Your dad made you too and you’re definitely my favorite out of his creations.”

“Din!” You squealed, somehow shocked by his brazenness though all he had been throughout your relationship was brazen. A giggle escape you unconsciously but turned into an unattractive snort, making you bury your face in his chest.

“I need to have you, sweet girl,” he said as he explored your body. “I’m starving.”

“You had me last night, you sex fiend!”

“So?” He asked, head tilted. “Want you everyday. Twice. At the very least.”

“You won't have time for anything else,” you said, reasoning him out of his sweet delusions.

“That’s alright by me…” he trailed before removing his hands from you abruptly. You whined at the loss of contact even though you’d been the one who was trying to get him to eat so he would leave you to go eat with your family.

“Close your eyes,” he said, and you followed, eyes shutting out the world at his command as they’d become accustomed to do. It was a familiar one. You knew what came after. Shuffling, heavy metal against a surface— wood, your side table.

“Blindfold me,” You said, elated that he trusted you this way, yet doubting yourself. What if your curiosity got the better of you and you looked? What if you opened your eyes accidentally? You were never in control of your senses when you were drowning in his passion.

He returned with a piece of cloth, presumably from your wardrobe if you had to guess from his footsteps. He wrapped it around you, covering your eyes, and tied a knot in the back.

His lips found you and you kissed him back eagerly, searching his lips for your love, for the soft heart behind the hard beskar. He did not disappoint, pouring his passion into you, electrifying a part of you that you’d never felt before with anyone else. With the kiss, the insecurities of the past few hours melted away. It did not matter that you’d separated once. You found each other again. It did not matter that your dad did not like him. He would come to like him soon. It did not matter that he would be off-world to rebuild Mandalore and you would be right here, on your planet, far away from him.

Nothing mattered except the present. And at present, you were in bliss.

.

.

.

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[itsjuststardust]

Heaven in Hiding - Chapter 18: Heaven in Hiding

Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Chapter Summary: "I push up on my toes you call me sweet thing And breathing down your neck your body's screaming" - Halsey

Word Count: 15,989

Author's Note/Chapter Warnings: Um, I think if I say that this chapter is 🌶️NSFW🌶️ and tell you that it was partially written by a particular smut monster, that will cover the chapter warnings 😈

Chapter/Main title inspired by the song 🎵Heaven in Hiding🎵 by Halsey.

MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY

Chapter 18: Heaven in Hiding

The next day passed in a hazy, sleepy blur. 

The three of them slept off and on for ninety-nine percent of it. The only way he could tell time was passing was that the sun was in a different position every time he opened his eyes. The light from the sun lit the hold in different patterns of light and shadows as it tracked through the sky until it disappeared, bringing the darkness of night with it. The few fleeting minutes they were awake were never at the same time. All Mando knew was one minute, he blinked his eyes open, and Alaina was sprawled on top of his chest, and in the next, he was on his side with his body cocooned around Alaina’s with the kid in some inconvenient position. 

The whole thing was awkward and uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter. He was never awake long enough to move either of them and too exhausted to try. Not to mention… he just didn’t want to.

This continued throughout the day, night, and into the next day until he was awoken by a certain excited toddler banging his helmet.

“Kid,” he groaned, blearily swatting the womp rat away from him. Unfortunately, when the kid was awake, the kid was awake, as demonstrated by his determination to wake him by immediately jumping back on his chest.

“Mmmmm,” Alaina hummed in her sleep as she moved to sprawl over his chest, effectively shoving the kid off him with a quiet oof. When he wrapped a loose arm around her waist to hold her to him, she burrowed her head into his chest and mumbled, “You’re warm.”

A slow, content smile crept across his face as his eyes began to drift close again. He would probably regret sleeping on the floor for so long, but at this very moment, with Alaina’s warm body lying on top of his, he found it difficult to want to be anywhere else.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

With a sigh, his eyes opened to find the kid’s head staring down at him. He must have been standing directly behind his helmet because from this position, the kid was upside down, and the only thing he could see was the kid’s enormous eyes and equally enormous ears looking down into his helmet. “Bah.”

“Okay, okay,” he groused, attempting to get up from the floor.

“It’s early,” Alaina mumbled sleepily, spreading her arms and legs over him to sink her weight into his chest to prevent him from getting up.

“We slept an entire cycle,” he countered, wrapping both arms around her petite frame to hold her against his chest while he sat up. He grimaced at how his back and joints protested after sleeping on the metal floor for over twenty-some-odd hours.

“It’s still early,” she argued, pulling a face at being disturbed but still refusing to open her eyes.

Mando couldn’t argue with that. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, bathing the landscape in a warm pink color as it continued to climb into the sky. 

He carried Alaina to her cot, tucked away in the corner, and deposited her there with minimal grumbling. Once on the cot, she immediately buried herself under the blankets and drifted back to sleep.

He watched over her with a tired smile before returning his attention to the kid. “Breakfast?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep. The kid smiled up at him with a large, toothy grin at the question. “Come on,” he said, motioning for the kid to follow.

Mando shuffled around the hold, tidying up the mess they had left from their last dinner while the kid followed him, babbling excitedly. He turned the electric kettle on to heat some water for instant caf and then searched their remaining supplies to scrounge up something to feed them all. Their supplies were slowly dwindling, and while he could hunt to an extent, they couldn’t stay here forever. They’d been here almost three weeks already, and aside from the last time he crashed here, this was the longest stretch of time he’d remained stationary with no job. However, to purchase supplies and rations, one needed credits, which meant he needed to find a job.

For the first time in Din Djarin’s memory, he found himself annoyed that there wasn’t more of an opportunity for downtime.

He sighed as he divided the rest of the yellow berries the kid and Alaina had picked the other day into a couple of bowls. He passed one down to the kid and dropped a protein bar in his lap. The kid squealed and immediately tore into the berries. Mando grabbed the other bowl and added a couple more protein bars before he fixed two cups of instant caf with the hot water and moved to sit next to Alaina’s cot.

He placed Alaina’s cup and the bowl of yellow berries on the floor near her head and leaned back against the wall. He sneaked bites of his protein bar under his helmet, alternating with sips of his caf under his helmet while he continued to consider their options.

The problem was there were plenty of options out there for work. All perfect, under-the-radar (ish) crews who preferred you not to be in the guild as most of their members had a puck out for them. Ranzar Malk still reached out from time to time with jobs, hoping to entice the Mandalorian back to his crew… and if he didn’t have the kid and Alaina with him, he would probably agree to come back. However, he did have others to consider now—others who shouldn’t be exposed to the likes of Malk. Not to mention, there was a high likelihood that Xi’an still ran with his crew, and the thought of Alaina meeting Xi’an was not something he wanted to happen. Ever.

“You think too loud,” Alaina grumbled as she roused herself from the pile of blankets. 

He tensed at her words as the events of the day before slammed back into his mind. His chest filled with air, making him feel like an overinflated balloon. That really happened? Some kind of sorcery linked the three and then were stuck in Alaina’s mind for hours while they tried to figure it out. It wasn’t possible, was it? To hear someone’s thoughts?

He couldn’t help the trepidation from rising. A bond, Alaina had called it. Was that permanent? Was he forever connected to them now? What if everything fell apart? What if he stuck his boot in his mouth again, and Alaina finally came to her senses and left him for good? Would he still be able to feel her from parsecs away? Even just the thought of that made him go cold.

Alaina sniffed and looked down to find the caf and food waiting on the floor for her. “Breakfast in bed,” she hummed appreciatively, giving him a sleepy smile as she grabbed the mug and the bowl of berries. Mando noted she, unsurprisingly, left the protein bar behind on the ground. She moved to sit back against the wall and clutched the warm cup to her chest for a moment before she took a sip of the brown liquid, scrunching her face at the taste, “I miss tea.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t hear my thoughts?” Mando asked, still nervous about whatever happened between the three of them. He was only just getting used to the idea of having them travel with him, but if they could hear his every thought—

“Stop panicking,” Alaina commented, tossing one of the yellow berries at his helmet. “We can’t hear your thoughts. It’s more like we can feel your feelings. I imagine it’s maybe not quite the same for you since you don’t have powers like us.” Mando hummed at her assessment and turned to take a sip of caf from his cup. Alaina tilted her head as she looked between him and the kid, “We should probably figure that out. Might come in handy. Though, I'll warn you, the only thing that has come out of my afternoon meditation sessions with Grogu when we practice raising and lowering our mental shields is learning that most of his feelings involve being hungry.”

He snorted, “Why am I not surprised?”

Alaina studied him while she popped another berry in her mouth, “So, were you panicking about our connection when I woke up, or did something else make you grumpy?”

Mando sighed, “You were right last night—well, whenever that was when you said we can’t stay here forever. We’ve got a week's worth of supplies and rations left, which could probably be stretched out with hunting, but…”

“But it’s time to go,” Alaina finished sadly, popping a berry into her mouth.

“I don’t have a set plan yet, so we won't leave immediately,” Mando told her, and she shrugged. “We’ll come back,” he promised, resting his hand on her thigh, which was still hiding under the blankets.

“Mando?” Alaina questioned and then looked down nervously into her cup of caf. “Not to add to your list of problems, but…” she tapered off with a sigh, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze of her thigh. “On our first night here, you asked if I wanted to go get my mom’s trunk?” she asked, looking hopefully at him.

“You want to go get it?” he guessed.

Alaina nodded, “Mando, if Grogu’s memory was real… Why would she have never told me any of that?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he answered, taking his hand off her leg to toss her protein bar at her.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. We were so close. I just can’t believe she kept a secret like that from me. I mean, she already showed me her powers. She’s the one who helped me learn mine… I get her not telling me when I was a kid, but she didn’t even say anything when she was on her deathbed.” Alaina stopped to take an angry bite of her protein bar, and Mando stayed quiet to let her work through her thoughts. “She worked in the shops; we lived in a tiny run-down apartment… we were just… ordinary.”

“Yes, just two ordinary women with their witchy powers,” he teased and smiled at Alaina’s eye roll. 

“I just don’t understand why she wouldn’t have told me. We talked about everything. I would have kept her secret. Besides, what would I have done with that information? I was a ballerina.”

“She was probably thinking that if you didn’t know anything, you were less likely to be captured, interrogated, and used against her,” he answered her, his voice severe but quiet.

Alaina’s forehead scrunched as she considered that.

“Do you want my opinion?” he asked with a slight tilt of his helmet. When Alaina nodded, he continued, “If I were to take a guess, I think your mom went into hiding.” Alaina stared blankly at him as she processed that and continued. “Take the facts that you do know: she told you never to reveal your powers to anyone. She could have returned to Naboo, but she didn’t. She picked a highly populated, out-of-the-way planet where she took a simple job that wouldn’t raise any suspicions; she wanted to blend in. We got dumped in at the end of Grogu’s memory, but it’s obvious that the Empire was going after the Jedis, and they were on the run. We know that they are virtually extinct now.” He looked at Alaina and her emerald doe-eyes staring back at him and shrugged. “If I was in your mother’s shoes, that’s what I would have done. But the offer still stands,” he nodded. “If you want to get your trunk, we can go get your trunk.”

Alaina gave a weak smile and nodded. “She used to keep paper diaries. I was one of the only kids who could write with pen and paper for the longest time because she made sure to teach me. She didn’t journal all the time, but a couple of her diaries were in that trunk. Maybe they will have some answers?”

“Maybe,” he answered softly. “But to get there, we need enough fuel and food to get us there. Which means we need credits. Which means I need to find a job.”

Alaina nodded, and he watched as she shoved her feelings down. She shuffled around on the bed to cross her legs to give him her full attention. “So, what are our options?” she asked, taking another sip of caf and grimacing again.

“I have a lead with a crew I used to work with,” he started hesitantly. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?!” Alaina scoffed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You seemed so gloom and doom about it.”

He sighed and cocked his helmet at her, “Because they’re all criminals who I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw them. Not to mention that the moment they put the pieces together about you and the kid, they wouldn’t hesitate to throw me out the airlock to take the massive reward on your heads.”

“Ah,” Alaina nodded, “hence the gloom and doom,” she said, grimacing into her cup of instant caf.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it,” Mando grumbled, taking the cup out of her hands to put it on the floor.

“But it’s warm,” she whined, snatching the cup back for another sip. “Bleh.” Mando rolled his eyes at her antics but allowed her to keep her mug. “So, what are you saying? Our options are going back to your old crew and risking you being shoved out of an airlock or starving to death on this moon?”

Mando heaved a sigh, “There’s maybe another possibility…” One that worried him for different reasons. On the one hand, he knew they would be perfectly safe and that Rhoam could be trusted not to turn on them. However, on the other hand… Rhoam was… well, Rhoam. The man was the biggest flirt in the galaxy, and even he could begrudgingly admit the man was attractive. The hoards of women who fawned over him seemed to agree. However, some of that could be because the man was a King. Not to mention, his Chief of Security made him… uncomfortable. “I have someone who owes me a favor. He rules a planet near the border into wild space—”

“I’m sorry. Did you say he rules a planet?” Alaina cut him off and raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yes.”

Alaina’s mouth dropped open, “Like, he rules the planet like a King?”

“Not like a King. He is the King.”

“And he owes you a favor?” she asked skeptically, still unable to close her mouth.

“Yes,” he answered in a slow exhale, already knowing their answer.

Alaina blinked stoically at him before saying, “So, you’re struggling with picking between a group of thugs or working for a King? I can see why you're struggling so hard to decide between the two,” she deadpanned.

Mando cocked his head at her and snatched her mug out from her hands. “Hey!” she grumbled, but he ignored her as he picked up the rest of their dishes to take to the sink. The kid smiled brightly at him, and Mando chuckled at the yellow stains around his mouth, no doubt from shoving the berries in his mouth as quickly as possible. “Get dressed. We’re going to take advantage of the next couple of days to stretch our legs. You’ve had a couple of days off. We need to get back to training,” he ordered, grabbing the kid’s bowl and dumping everything in the sink to rinse off.

“Actually,” Alaina started and shared a look with the kid before continuing, “we had a suggestion for training today.”

Mando sighed restlessly as he sat in the cockpit in his chair. Now redressed in his flight suit, armor, and a couple of weapons, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the chair’s armrest, eying the timer in the corner of his HUD. He had the chair facing away from the viewport and at the door while he watched the numbers on the timer slowly tick down.

Hide and seek.

He scoffed at her suggestion when she made it and scoffed again, just thinking about it.

“You realize that I’m a bounty hunter, right? I play hide and seek for a living.”

Alaina glared at him and bounced Grogu on her hip. “Okay, but hear me out. The three of us are connected now. We've been given a gift—"

“What good is that going to do if we can’t read each other’s thoughts?”

“But you can still feel us!" she argued. "The only reason why Grogu and I have any kind of advantage is that we have powers already. You don’t. It makes you… quieter, muted, but you’re still there.”

“And a game of hide and seek will teach me how to feel you?”

"Do you have another idea?" Alaina shrugged. “You give us an hour head start before you come looking for us. After an hour, you can only use the senses you have, old and new. No fancy tricks from the helmet,” she said, tapping the beskar helm on his head. 

He simply stared at her, trying to figure out what the point was. He didn’t understand what Alaina or the kid felt; he just felt something… warm.

“Please?” Alaina pleaded, blinking up at him with those damned eyes. “Mando, you’re so worried about us getting hurt and traveling with you, but what if you could feel us like we can you? What if we can teach you? Think about what it would be like to feel if we’re happy or sad or injured?”

“Or if the womp rat is hungry,” he countered sarcastically.

“I’m being serious!” Alaina growled and swatted at his chest. “What if we’re in a scenario where we’re all separated, and the only way to find each other is by following the little string that connects us?”

Mando found it hard to argue with that logic. 

“What? Scared you’ll lose, Mandalorian?” Alaina challenged, smirking at him while she wagged her eyebrows, enticing him to take her dare.

“You’re on.”

Unfortunately, after fifty-seven minutes of thinking about it, he felt like an idiot for agreeing to this.

An hour headstart… There was no telling how far they could get in an hour. The woods were dense and a good hiding place, but they could hide just as easily in the lavender field. The only thing he could use was his eyes and… witchcraft. Mando let his helmet fall back against the chair at that thought. Now, he regretted agreeing to be the bloodhound, all in the name of Alaina’s research.

The timer inside his helmet finally went off, and Mando leaped out of his chair, jumping at the bit to get started. He bypassed the ladder altogether by dropping down into the hold and immediately stomped to the ramp to assess the situation.

Right off the bat, he noticed prints in the mud. The rain and storms had softened the ground enough for Alaina's boots to leave visible prints. He rolled his eyes. He respected Alaina’s idea, but this would be child’s play.

He followed the set of prints as they walked away from the Crest and headed toward the forest. At the forest’s edge, he paused and looked at the ground with a frown. 

A set of tracks went into the forest, but another set turned left and walked down the perimeter of the tree line. He turned left, following the bootprints that walked along the tree line until they turned left again, half a click away from the Crest. His hunt continued to take him in one giant loop around the Crest, and he discovered that in addition to the path that deviated into the woods, there was another one that went in the direction of the lake and another that continued through the lavender plains, heading toward the mountains in the far distance.

He smirked when the loop led him back to the clearing where the Crest was parked. She knew that he would go with his senses he knew first, and when she saw her boots left distinct tracks in the mud, she must have decided to change her plan.

“Clever girl,” he murmured, congratulating Alaina on her ingenuity. 

He looked at the timer running in his helmet and saw that almost twenty minutes had passed. Alaina had an hour head start, so the faux paths she made couldn’t go very far before she finally had to pick one to take. He immediately ruled out the one in the lavender plains that headed toward the mountain range. They’d never explored that far out, and even with the tall purple grass, there weren’t enough places to hide along the way. Besides, the range was far enough away that it would take the rest of the daylight hours to make it there. So that left the woods or the lake.

To him, the woods, with its numerous blackened trees, seemed like the obvious place to hide. The trees alone could provide plenty of shelter, and there were enough roots and vegetation that she could hide her bootprints… but this was Alaina he was tracking. Alaina didn’t like the dark and always refused to go hunting in the forest with him because it gave her “the creeps.” Of course, she could have headed into the forest to throw him… but when he looked between the forest and the emerald green lake, he couldn’t explain it, but something tugged him toward the water.

He started toward the lake and analyzed the slight glow of warmth that began to radiate in his chest. Was that what Alaina was describing? Was he just supposed to follow that feeling blindly? He looked back at the forest, and the small ball of warmth faded away completely.

Mando turned to stare at the lake, and the feeling changed slightly. The small ball of warmth returned, but there was something else there.

“We can’t hear your thoughts. It’s more like we can feel your feelings.”

Smugness. That’s what he was feeling—a slight undercurrent of smugness.

Alaina was somewhere where she could see him struggling over which direction to take, and wherever she was, she was apparently feeling quite proud of herself.

His lips curled at the challenge. “We’ll see how smug you are after I find you, Tranyc,” he murmured to himself, hoping she could feel him coming for her.

He stalked off toward the lake. He walked parallel to her tracks but only spared them half a thought. Alaina could fake her steps or cover her tracks, but she couldn’t cover her feelings. 

Mando concentrated on that little golden rope of warmth tugging in his chest, and he put aside everything he’d been taught about tracking to instead rely on a bit of sorcery to lead him to his targets. It felt as if the cord in his chest was now something tangible—something real and warm he could physically hold in his hands, even though that wasn’t the case. At all.

When he reached the lake, he stopped to analyze the shoreline and surrounding areas, trying to determine where she and the kid might be hiding. He could feel a tug of disapproval from the other end of their shared rope, and at first, he thought it was disapproval because he’d found their hiding spot already, but it tugged again as if telling him he was wrong. If she wasn’t disapproving of him finding them, then what—

Realization dawned on him. She could only see him looking for them and likely thought he was going against the rules and using the bonus features in his helmet to help track them down. “I’m not cheating, Tranyc,” he murmured.

When the feeling didn’t change, he grumbled in embarrassment, feeling like an idiot standing in the middle of the black-pebbled beach with his eyes closed. But if they were going to learn to use this little gift, he supposed they should figure out precisely what they could and could not do.

Mando grabbed onto the warm golden string and tugged back. The rope flashed hot in excitement; this time, he felt the kid’s excitement entwined with Alaina’s. 

His eyes snapped open, and his head snapped a distant spot on the shoreline to his right. If someone were to ask him how he knew they were there, he couldn’t tell them how he knew. He just knew. “Gotcha,” he growled. His confident grin grew when he felt Alaina and the kid try to shield their emotions. Grogu was evidently better at it than Alaina because the kid faded away entirely, but he could still feel a trace of Alaina. “Nice try, you two, but I’ve got you now,” he said as he took off down the shoreline.

He prowled the pebbled shore, looking around the rocks and bushes that lined it in search of his two companions.  The water from the lake washed away any evidence of her trail, so he was left to look for other signs (hand prints on rocks, broken vegetation, or another set of tracks) for where they were. When he reached the same rocky platform he jumped off with Alaina, he climbed up the black rock for a higher vantage point.

Mando reluctantly admitted that he was enjoying himself. His initial assessment of Alaina’s little training exercise was wrong. This was different. Exciting. And, if he was honest, it was a little bit of a turn-on. He could almost feel the same undercurrent of anticipation coming from Alaina. It was muted and subtle, but it was there. He practiced tugging on the cord that now bonded them together. He almost couldn't feel anything if he didn’t concentrate on it. He had to focus on it. It was strange. Bizarre even. He was his own self… but… he wasn’t alone. 

Not only was he learning how to harness his companions' magic, but he was also learning that Alaina was an adept hider. That was promising for their future training exercises because as much as Mando needed her to be able to defend herself, sometimes, it was better to learn how to hide.

He smirked when he felt Alaina’s shield slip, and he tugged at the cord but didn’t get an answer. 

“You did good using your bootprints to your advantage back there,” he paused to nod toward the ship. “That was smart. I like it when you show me how clever you are.” He felt a soft warmth through their connection. It reminded him of when Alaina blushed. Soft and delicate, but still there. He smirked when he realized his words embarrassed her. “You like feeling me be proud of you?” he asked to nothing but raised his voice loud enough that he hoped Alaina could hear his question from wherever she was.

The only response he got was that soft, warm feeling in his chest flare, alighting hotter. She was either embarrassed to admit anything or trying too hard to conceal herself, which meant she was nearby.

Mando focused on the landscape around him, looking for any clues. “I am, you know?” he yelled again, looking for even the slightest stalk of grass to shake. “Proud of you,” he continued, eyes landing on a dense bush beside a tree across from him. “Always proud of you, Tranyc,” he purred as he jumped down from his platform.

His chest flashed hot at his words, and he knew he was close. They had to be hiding here somewhere. From this vantage point, Alaina could have seen him back at the Crest and on the shoreline, and if he could feel her embarrassment, then he was close enough that she could hear him even when he didn’t yell.

Mando lunged for the dense shrub in front of him. “Got—” he cut himself off when he only found a bright purple lizard that scurried away when he moved the branches away. Damn, he’d be sure they were hiding—

The sound of a rock falling made him spin to look behind him, but he didn’t see anything out of place. 

He couldn’t see anything out of place, but he definitely felt the kid’s amusement. He smirked and hunched over to take a ridiculously huge step as he hunched over, stretching his hands out. “Alright, you womp rat,” he called out, hoping to get a giggle out of the kid.

His eyes flicked in every direction while he tried to feel where they were through their connection, but it was quiet.

His chest rumbled from his quiet growl of frustration. They were toying with him. They were taking advantage of the fact that he didn’t know how to work their newfound connection, that he couldn’t shield his emotions from them, and were toying with him. Oh, he was so going to get them back. 

The sound of the lake lapping against the shore in the distance was the only thing he could hear. He was sure they were here, but maybe they were watching him on the other side of the lake. Hell, for all he knew, they could be hiding in the forest, laughing as loud as they wanted because he couldn’t hear them. Mando shook his head and sighed. The wind blew, rustling the leaves in the tree behind him, and he moved to straighten up and start his search over—

Something heavy dropped from the tree and landed on his shoulders, sending him toppling forward. His gloved hands frantically patted at his neck at the feeling of something, or someone, rather, locking their legs around his neck. It was too late, though. Mando couldn’t keep from toppling face-first into the ground. In a last-minute twist, Mando watched Alaina through his helmet, lean forward, and tuck in before letting out a loud scream as she used their forward momentum to flip him over her. She kept her legs locked around his neck the entire time, following him through the summersault and refusing to let go even after their backs simultaneously crashed into the ground.

“Gotcha,” Alaina panted on the ground above him. She briefly tightened her legs around his neck one more time before releasing him and resting her feet on top of his shoulders.

Fuck, she got him, alright. 

Not to be outdone by a ballerina, Mando latched onto her ankles and rolled them both onto their stomachs. He tried to pull her back to him, but she kicked back sharply with her left foot, breaking free of his grasp. She tried to push off the ground, but when that wasn’t successful, she rolled over onto her back. He didn’t need to ask if she was okay. He could feel it. There was no doubt, fear, or flashbacks in her emerald eyes. There was just determination staring back at him.

It was fucking sexy.

She smirked at him and used her free leg to kick at his helmet, but he grabbed it quickly and used his hands to tug her under him. Mando used his larger frame to box her in with his elbows and knees before he leaned down to whisper, “What was that, Tranyc?” next to her ear.

He looked down at Alaina panting under him. She had to be getting stronger than he realized if she had been able to pull a move like that off with him in full armor. Mando couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate her. Her blonde hair was braided back, but pieces had come undone in the scuffle, giving her a manic, wild look. Her cheeks were flushed a shade of pink that matched her parted lips. His eyes couldn’t help but continue their inspection, taking a moment to appreciate the tight black top that hugged her curves and noted with an evil smirk that he could make out her pebbled nipples straining against the top, and then had to immediately bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning when he realized she wasn’t wearing her breastband under her shirt. Fuck. He could just slip his hands under and—

“My eyes are up here,” she teased, returning his attention to her smiling face. “Ready to admit you lost, Mandalorian?” she whispered, giving him a smoldering look.

“From my vantage point, I think I’m the winner,” he purred back, but his eyes pulled back down to her chest, still heaving as she tried to catch her breath, allowing him to admire her soft curves. He was so distracted he missed the sly smile stretch across her face, and his entire body shuddered when he felt her hands come to rest on his sides as her delicate fingers worked their way to the tender places on the sides of his chest that weren’t protected by armor.

“You forgot one very important thing,” she whispered under him. 

Mando gave her a lazy hum as an answer, enjoying the feeling of her hands stroking his sides. He’d long lost the fight to keep his attraction hidden, and having Alaina panting and heaving under him was the final nail in the coffin for him. He fully intended to ensure she knew he didn’t forget a thing. Especially when the last time they had been on the verge of something, it had ended so spectacularly.

Alaina’s fingers dug into his ribs, and the Mandalorian was once again brought out of his daydreams and back to reality when his body shuddered for an entirely different reason. He couldn’t hold the surprised bark of laughter that escaped him. She used his moment of shock to double down on her actions and then used her hands to roll them so that he was now on his back, and Alaina sat on his stomach, trapping his torso between her thighs. “You’re ticklish,” she told him, grinning as her fingers dug into his sensitive ribs.

Mando laughed and grabbed her wrists to pull her hands off his chest. “I can fight dirty, too, Tranyc,” he threatened. Alaina’s serious mask broke, and she began giggling and weakly keeping his hands away from her as he tried to return the favor. After a moment of playful struggling, he decided enough was enough and slowly rose from the ground. Alaina’s body slid down as she lost the fight with gravity until she landed on his lap with her center directly over his awaiting, eager bulge, straining through his trousers to find her warmth. He gripped her hips tightly in his hands, appreciating the way her pink blush now flushed down her neck and across her chest. “But my way of fighting dirty is a little different than yours, sweet thing,” he murmured, using his hands to grind her over where he desired her.

Alaina’s mouth fell open in a soft ‘O’ shape as she sucked in a quiet gasp of pleasure.

“Ready to admit defeat?” he murmured, moving his helmet to gently nuzzle her cheek, smiling when Alaina's arms wrapped around his neck to hold him—

“Patu!”

The adults blinked before they realized they’d forgotten one very important thing.

“We have a kid,” Alaina whispered as Mando’s helmet dropped to the top of her shoulder in defeat, and she gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder. 

Mando stiffened as a thought occurred to him… “Tell me that when you say that we can feel each other, the kid can’t…” he faded off, not even wanting to speak it.

Alaina let out a surprised snort and gripped him tightly as she laughed into his neck. “Um, honestly, I hadn’t thought about that, but um,” she paused to smile at the kid trying to scale his armor. “But his mental walls are stronger than mine, so I think we’re just gonna have to hope that he knows what to tune out?” she finished, sounding more like she was asking him a question instead of answering his.

Mando groaned and gently banged his helmet against her shoulder.

Alaina’s sweet giggling continued as she hugged his neck. “Look at the bright side. Most couples have to go through this long, arduous process of courting and getting to learn about each other and their bodies… and we… we get to skip all that and go straight to being the boring married couple with a kid.”

“Kriff,” he muttered, frustrated in more ways than one, and, taking a page from Alaina's book, collapsed dramatically to his back. The kid took advantage of his new prone position to bang excitedly on his helmet.

“Come on, little one,” Alaina chuckled, grabbing the kid before he could slap his helmet again and got up to head back to the Razor Crest.

With a deep, calming breath, Mando shoved down the urge to toss the tiny green cock block into the lake and climbed to his feet.

The kid looked back at him over Alaina’s shoulder and squealed excitedly. Mando looked the kid in the eyes before sending a very irritated message to the toddler down their new form of communication. The kid’s ears perked up at the wave of irritation directed toward him from the Mandalorian, and he tried to give him a sweet, innocent smile. Mando shook his head. The womp rat would have to nap at some point and the moment that happened…

Mando stopped walking to blink in disbelief as the kid was being carried away and jogged to catch up with them.

“What are you doing?” Mando scolded Alaina as he caught up to them. He plucked the kid from her arms and placed him on the ground. When the kid turned his excited squeal on one of the nearby, unsuspecting purple lizards and chased after it, Mando looked smugly down at Alaina. “He has energy he needs to burn off,” he defended.

Alaina smirked and shook her head at him, but her cheeks flushed at the implications. When she turned to follow after the kid, Mando reached out and shoved his fingers down the small space of her waistband where it didn’t quite touch her back and yanked her back into him. “And just so we’re clear, the second the womp rat closes his eyes, I will be asking you to demonstrate that flexibility you teased about on Sorgan, so I’d start stretching when we make it back to the Crest,” he said darkly, pushing his hips into her lower back so she could feel his rigid desperation.

She leaned back into him and looped her arms around his neck before saying, “You know, some stretches require a partner.”

He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes to keep his moan to himself, and for the first time since taking the Creed, he wondered if, instead of dying in battle, it would be a former ballerina who did him in.

After damn near six hours, the kid was still going strong. 

They had spent three hours exploring around the lake, giving the kid ample room to run and explore. They stopped near the water several times so the kid could watch (and try to catch) small schools of neon pink and orange fish. At one of their fish observation stops, Mando turned to check on Alaina, only to find her with one foot propped up on top of a rock with her body leaning over her outstretched leg. The karking temptress had the nerve to smirk at him while she stretched. “What?” she asked, blinking at him innocently before she lost the battle, and he saw the teasing tip of her pink tongue peek out from between her teeth. Mando could only growl and direct the kid to keep moving, hoping they would wear him out sooner rather than later.

By the time they returned to the clearing where the Crest was, the kid still showed no signs of slowing down. They spent another couple of hours with him, taking turns with the womp rat to keep him engaged in something. Alaina started one of their magic lessons, stating that when the kid has to use his powers, it usually drains him… However, after an hour of watching the kid float and play with the damned silver ball from cock pit, Mando snatched the object out of the air and grabbed the kid. 

If physical and mental activity wouldn’t work, then he was going to bore the kid to death.

Mando walked the kid around the hull of the Crest, pointing out every possible unique fact that he could. From the wing flaps to stories about how he got each scorch mark and nick from various battles. It didn't matter how soft or monotone Mando spoke; the kid just soaked in the attention.

Eventually, Mando was so wound up that Alaina took pity on him. “Why don’t you go hunt or something?” she suggested with a friendly pat on his shoulder. “We can dry whatever we don’t eat to add to our stores once we leave. Help give us a little buffer with our rations, yeah?”

“Fine,” he gruffed and stomped back in the Crest to grab his hunting supplies, ignoring Alaina’s smile. “But he doesn’t stop moving, and don’t you dare let him close his eyes until I get back,” he ordered with a threatening point.

“Yes, sir,” Alaina all but purred, and Mando spun away from her to head into the forest before he combusted right there.

Half an hour into his hunt, his mind and body finally calmed down enough for him to pay attention to the task at hand.

Mando used the time tracking to mentally plan their next few days, letting the more mundane plans help calm him down. He'd need to send a message to Rhoam soon to call in his favor and hope that the man's Chief of Security wouldn't block his attempts at finding refuge. Then there were the travel logistics. He could already guess it would take both companions time to adjust to life on the Crest again. Going from weeks of having all the room they could want to being confined to the Crest would take some adjusting to. Leaving at night would at least shorten the two days of travel to Rhoam’s planet. Enjoy what was left of today and tonight. Let the kid burn some energy off during the daylight tomorrow while they start packing and securing their belongings for takeoff. 

As his mental checklist for takeoff continued, Mando found himself unable to stop smiling at his visions of what life would be like with Alaina and Grogu. It was then that Alaina’s words from earlier suddenly struck him. “Look at the bright side. Most couples have to go through this long, arduous process of courting and getting to learn about each other and their bodies… and we… we get to skip all that and go straight to being the boring married couple with a kid.”

Mando froze as her words played on a loop inside his mind, utterly unaware of the rabbit right in front of him. Is that how she saw them? As a family?

He’d had a family before. He’d had a clan before… He’d already secretly come around to the idea that the three of them were a strange little clan. Still, something about admitting that he and Alaina were in a relationship and Grogu was theirs absolutely terrified him.

They had feelings for one another. Obviously. 

And, yes, there was a kid involved… but… 

Married? Married was a word that he had removed from his personal vocabulary. That was permanent. That was… love. A word that he only associated with his parents. Their love for him—Their love for each other… Besides, it had only been a handful of months since he'd rescued them from Nevarro. That was too soon, right? Before they'd become stuck in Alaina's mind, before everything blew up in his face so spectacularly, Alaina had told him she wanted to be his partner. She'd also said she wanted to be his lover, but she'd said partner.

His mind reluctantly reminded him that the Mando'a word for partner, riduur, like several words in the language, had several meanings. Not only was riduur used for partner, but it was also more commonly associated with a spouse. Partners appealed to him more, only because he could somewhat detach himself. He could detach himself for the day when Alaina no longer wanted to live his nomadic lifestyle. He could detach himself for when Alaina realized she deserved more than him—

The cord in his chest warmed, and if he closed his eyes, Mando could almost imagine that Alaina was here with him in the woods, placing a comforting hand on his chest to chase away his spiraling thoughts.

Maker, he was easily five clicks away from the Crest, and Alaina felt him. That was impressive—a little alarming considering his previous thoughts, but nonetheless impressive.

Her attempt to calm him only worked momentarily because what was he doing? He was out of his depths. He had feelings, strong feelings, for her but love... 

His mind flashed with memories of their last few months together. Of their day together at the lake. Of dinners in front of the fire. Taking turns playing with the kid. He could still easily recall how dull and defeated her green eyes were when he found her in the Imp’s compound months ago, and compared to the full, sparkling emerald green gems they were now when she looked at him, it was almost difficult to believe that they had made it here.

Who was he kidding? Being a part of a clan before was one thing… but actually having one of his own? He didn’t know how to handle that. He couldn’t remember what it was like to love someone, so how was he supposed to be able to love Alaina or Grogu?

Maybe it was because he saw his parents for the first time in almost thirty years or because he was able to physically hug his mother, but it was like the floodgates had opened, and memories from his past came rising up like the tide.

Older memories began filtering through new ones. One of his parents smiling and laughing together at the dinner table, followed by a memory of Alaina sitting next to him in front of the fire and leaning into his shoulder as she laughed over a story he told her about tracking down an old quarry. There was another memory of his father shushing him to be quiet in their darkened home as his mother walked through the door after closing the bakery. When his mother turned the lights on, they jumped out from their hiding spots, surprising her… it was... her birthday, he thought. He could still remember the look in his mother’s eyes when she opened them after his father spun her around the room and stopped, dipping her backward and giving her a searing kiss. That memory was followed by Alaina’s emerald eyes sparkling as she laughed when they breached the lake’s green waters after Mando jumped in with her in his arms. There was one final memory of him crawling into bed between his parents after he’d been startled awake by a storm in the night, followed by a more recent memory. A memory of him and Alaina sleeping in the alcove on the Crest with Grogu nestled comfortably between them.

And then he remembered what had happened when they were bizarrely stuck inside Alaina's mind. He'd never forget those bottomless black pools that took over her eyes, but she had been trying to tell him something.

“The foundation is constructed by four pillars,” Alaina said. “The pillars are linked together, bound by the strongest substance in the galaxy. Because of that, this room remains standing,” she murmured.

Mando let go of Alaina, keeping Grogu in his free hand. Alaina’s black eyes stared into space, and the kid stared at him with a massive smile as if he knew the answer to his unasked question. With a sigh, he looked back to Alaina to find her black eyes fixed on his helmet, patiently waiting for him to ask his question. “What is that strong?”

Alaina’s hand came to rest in the center of his chest, and both she and the kid were looking back at him with black eyes and smiles.

“Love,” she whispered. Mando scrunched his face in confusion at her answer. “Love is the foundation.”

Mando’s eyes snapped open as a cold gust of wind blew through the trees, and he looked up to see dark clouds signaling another storm creeping over the treetops.

“Your family is beautiful,” his mother whispered in his ear. “Are you happy?”

He returned the hug, savoring the gift he’d been given. “Yes,” he whispered with a smile.

His stolen moment in time with his parents… It was meant to remind him that he remembered what it was like to see two people in love. It was to remind him that he knew what love was because he had witnessed true love firsthand as a child.

Mando turned and sprinted through the forest's trees, their black glittering trunks, as he headed back toward the Crest.

Their stories had been interlinked and woven from the beginning. With their bond, memories may have floated through, but what if it was meant to show him something else?

What if Alaina's subconscious tried to show him they were her foundation? Her mother, the kid, him... that they'd kept her from cracking and crumbling apart when she had every right not to be here. What if she was trying to show him that he didn't need to be scared because she had already accepted him as an integral part of who she was?

Oh, he was an idiot. Here he was, agonizing over him not being enough for her, not being able to love her, not knowing how to be a family when her black-eyed alter ego had proved him so spectacularly wrong. Her subconscious opened him up to show him that he was a part of her foundation. She showed him that she had accepted his past, their past, as a piece of herself and that the love of her mother, combined with Grogu's love and his love, somehow held her together.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he was taken back to that night when she'd forced him out in the karking rain to force him to see the world how she did. She'd been right; it was beautiful but didn't compare to her beauty. It didn't compare to how the lightning highlighted the rain on her face, making her appear ethereal. 

"I'm not going anywhere," she told him, and he thought his heart would swell and burst right there in the middle of the storm.

“I want to be your partner. I want to be your friend… I want to be your lover,” she rasped, pulling his head down to capture his lips in another searing kiss. “I don’t want to be locked away in the closet whenever you leave the ship. If you want me to stay, we’re in this together.”

“Look at the bright side. Most couples have to go through this long, arduous process of courting and getting to learn about each other and their bodies… and we… we get to skip all that and go straight to being the boring married couple with a kid.”

If he was going to do this with her—with them—then he didn’t want to miss a thing. He didn’t want to skip over anything—not with Alaina or the kid. He’d already lost five years with Alaina over his poor communication skills and Alaina’s tendency to be rash in her decisions. He didn’t want to lose another second.

He shot out of the tree line and ignored the burning of his lungs as he looked frantically for his family in the silver grass clearing, but they weren’t to be found. He wasn’t worried. He could feel them. They were here somewhere—

“Hey,” Alaina greeted as she and Grogu rounded the Crest. She even had the kid on the ground, forcing him to walk—shuffle—next to her, each with a basket in hand. “We decided to go do some berry picking,” she explained, holding her basket to show him. “Is everything okay? We came back because you felt off. Did you get hurt?”

Mando shook his head as he crossed the clearing to greet them.

Alaina’s face scrunched in confusion as she studied him. “You struck out then? All the rabbits finally caught on to your hunting habits?” she asked, commenting on the lack of game he returned with. “Or did they form some kind of alliance, and it became the hunter being the hunted type situation?” came her weak joke as she tried to figure out what was wrong when he remained silent.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, out of breath, as he approached her.

“Wait, what? Why?” she asked him, placing her basket on the ground. "What's wrong?"

“Alaina, close your eyes,” he ordered again, dropping his voice to a more intimidating octave. His hands came up to his neck, and he started to untuck his cloak from his breastplate. He came to a stop in front of her and cocked his helmet when she still didn’t close her eyes.

“Mando—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his helmet at her. “Alaina Corra, close your eyes. Please,” he added at the end.

Alaina’s emerald eyes studied him, and her uncertainty and concern grew when he finally freed his cloak and let it fall to the ground, covering the kid. Grogu squawked at suddenly being covered and struggled to free himself from under the wool cloak. She looked between the blanket-covered toddler and him and gave him one final skeptical look before she finally closed her eyes.

“I’m trusting you to keep them closed for me, Tranyc. Can you do that for me?” he murmured as he came toe to toe with her.

Alaina nodded, “But, Mando—”

“Use my name,” he interrupted her, lifting his helmet over his head.

Alaina stilled, and even without the added audio amplifiers inside his helmet, he could hear her quiet gasp of surprise. Mando watched her, greedily taking in how she looked in the daylight. Even with the sudden pop-up spring storm looming around them, the sun's last rays still managed to find her bright honey-blonde hair and make it shine.

“Djarin,” came her nervous whisper.

He crashed his lips into hers at the sound of his name leaving them. It had been so long since he had heard his name come from someone else, and never had he heard it as sweet as hers.

He’d never understood the appeal of kissing someone before, but after that night in the rain… he understood why people kissed. He poured every ounce of feelings he didn’t have words for into that kiss, hoping she understood everything he was trying to tell her. When he felt her loop her arms around his neck, he took the hand holding his helmet to wrap around her waist and buried the other in the back of her hair, holding her tightly to him. 

Alaina’s fingers wound in his overgrown curls at the base of his neck and tugged.

With her in position, he arched her back in a clumsy, awkward dip as he chased after her lips. Alaina released a surprise gasp against his lips but clenched her eyes tighter, and he rewarded her with another kiss. When he couldn’t take her any further without toppling them both over, he stopped and broke the kiss to murmur against her lips, “My name is Din Djarin.” He leaned back in for a gentle kiss and then pulled away again. “And we can be the boring married couple with a kid, but I’m not skipping over anything,” he whispered, biting her lip. “Not with you, Alaina Corra.”

With one last kiss, he got them upright, slowly placing his helmet back over his head as the rose.

Alaina stood there in a daze with her eyes closed. The kid was still by their feet, struggling to escape under his cloak.

“Din Djarin,” Alaina whispered with a whimsical smile plastered across her face.

“You can open your eyes, ya know,” he told her, bumping his beskar cover forehead against hers.

Alaina’s smile broadened as she bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “Din Djarin, kiss me,” she whispered, holding on to the top of his chestpiece.

Din Djarin’s smile overtook his face, and he tipped his helmet up to oblige the lady’s request. He could feel Alaina’s smile as large as his own against his lips.

The kid picked that moment to finally free himself and let out a series of disgruntled spitting noises, explaining in great detail how he felt about being left out of whatever the adults were doing. Alaina giggled at the sound, and with one last kiss, she let him go.

Thunder rumbled nearby as the clouds continued to gather, but Alaina stood there swaying slightly in the wind with her eyes closed in a daze.

When her emerald eyes finally opened to look at him, Din Djarin hoped that someday, he could look at them without the barrier between them. Without his helmet. He wanted to look at her eyes with his own.

“Come on, Tin Man,” Alaina whispered, with her smile still firmly plastered across her face. “Let’s go inside before you melt,” she smirked and nodded at the Crest. 

He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts and Alaina that he only now realized it was starting to rain. He watched her saunter back to the Crest with a shining smile still gracing her face and called after her, “Hey! You can use my name, you know?”

Alaina stopped at the foot of the ramp and turned back to give him a devilish smile that reignited a fire inside his chest before she said, “I intend to,” and turned back to enter the Crest. 

Dank farrik.

The kid chirped from his spot, still half buried under his cloak, and held his hands up to be picked up.

He bent over to grab the kid, his cloak in one arm and their full baskets of yellow berries in the other and shook his head at the kid. “Kid—Grogu,” he started, and the kid’s ears perked up excited by the use of his name. “My name is Din Djarin, and you have to cut me a break.”

The spring storm that forced them inside was much more intense than the last storm. The wind howled while rain and hail pelted against the ship's hull, all while the background noise of thunder rumbling sounded like it rarely stopped. He tried to leave the ramp open to let Alaina enjoy the storm for as long as possible, but when the wind started blowing the rain inside the hull, even Alaina told him to close up the ship.

“Bah!” Grogu yelled, waving his silver ball in the air.

The Mandalorian couldn’t remember the last time he admitted defeat, but sitting slumped on the floor of his own ship, back propped up against the wall, with the kid playing between the open ‘V’ of his legs, Din Djarin threw in the towel.

"I thought we decided you were going to cut me a break," he grumbled as he plucked the ball from the kid’s hands and tossed it down the hold. The kid giggled and squealed as if this wasn’t the hundredth time they’d done this and scrambled over his leg to go after the tiny beskar ball.

“You’re never getting that back,” Alaina teased.

His head swiveled to find Alaina exiting the fresher, scrunching the excess water from her hair with a towel. She’d changed out of her training clothes into his old tunic, and he quietly grumbled when he felt the kid crawl back over his leg to wave the ball in front of him again.

“You know,” she continued, and he could hear the smirk in her voice as she approached, “glaring at him won’t make him fall asleep any faster. We slept for over twenty hours. We’ll be lucky if he ever goes to sleep again.”

He exhaled an annoyed sigh and let his helmet fall back against the wall in defeat.

“Come on, little one,” Alaina cooed at the smiling toddler. “How about something to eat?” she asked, receiving an excited sputtering noise from the tiny goblin in response, and picked him up to hold him to her hip. “We’ll be up top, so you have the place to yourself for a bit,” she told him, her voice soft and sweet as she passed him, gracing him with an eyeful of her bare legs.

He watched her climb up the ladder to the cockpit, nodding and agreeing along to the kid’s excited babbles as if she understood every word he was saying. Probably why the kid liked her so much; she treated him like she would anyone else. Honestly, it was one of the reasons he liked her so much. It didn’t matter if you were a shrimping villager from a backwater skughole, a former Drop Trooper, a fifty-year-old green alien toddler, or covered head to toe in beskar. Alaina saw you for who you were.

Once he heard the cockpit door close, he forced himself to get off the floor and head to the fresher to clean up. He grabbed his sweats on the way in and began dismantling his armor piece by piece once he closed the fresher door to give him some privacy.

He stared at his reflection in the tiny mirror and frowned at how overgrown his hair and beard had gotten. Leaning closer to the mirror, his frown deepened when he noticed that more and more grays were starting to creep in. He shook his head as he splashed some water on his face and reached for his razor to tidy the scruff along his jaw. Since rescuing Alaina and the kid, he’d let his regular grooming habits fall by the wayside, and if his hair or beard grew any longer, it would become even more of an annoyance under his helmet than it already was.

Once the beard was gone and his mustache had been trimmed to a more respectable length, he took the scissors to cut his hair. He hated this the most. It always came out choppy and uneven when he did it. A not entirely unwanted image of Alaina trimming his hair for him flashed, and he had to push it away before he let him get too far ahead of himself. He stepped into the shower, turned the water on to rinse off the stray hairs and stubble, and stood under the warm spray, wondering why he had never bothered to replace the broken heating coil when it went out years ago.

His eyes opened at the feeling of the cord inside his chest glowing. When he concentrated on the feeling, he could tell that Alaina was feeling very smug about the fact that he was enjoying the warm shower. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the bar of soap to finish cleaning up. Even with the warm water, he was never one to shower long, and he was eager to join his companions to watch the rest of the storm from the cockpit.

Now, if a certain blonde, witchy, former ballerina decided to join him sometime…

He laughed when he felt their bond flush in embarrassment.

“Serves you right for spying, Tranyc,” he said to himself, returning to finish his shower.

He caught himself smiling like an idiot. Again. Only he doesn’t care. For the first time in months, maybe even years, things felt like they were how they were supposed to be. 

At least, he did think that until the lights went out.

He blinked in surprise in the pitch-black fresher, listening to the few functioning systems on the Crest as they systematically powered down one by one until even the shower slowed to a trickle before it eventually stopped altogether.

“Kriff,” he cursed, noting that his normal speaking voice echoed around the small room loudly without the background ambient noise of the Razor Crest.

Just one moment of happiness? Was that too much to ask for? Just one moment for them to enjoy themselves and be happy without some catastrophe happening.

He blindly patted his hand along the wall looking for the door and cursed when he stubbed his toe on the pile of beskar lying on the floor. “Come on,” he growled when the door wouldn’t even open from the lack of power.

The list of possibilities ran through his mind for the power loss as he worked to shimmy the door open. The storm was brutal, so a lightning strike was high up there, which would be extremely unfortunate, given that his repair tools were limited and the moon was uninhabited. Of course, there was always the possibility that some unknown threat had cut the power. Just because the moon was uninhibited didn’t mean he was the only person in the entire galaxy who’d ever been here. There was a chance that they weren’t alone.

That thought only renewed his determination to pry the door open and ensure Alaina and Grogu were okay. He couldn’t feel any panic coming from them, but this was all still so new, especially for him. The only thing working in his favor was that the ramp wasn’t operational with the power cut, so the only way in was for someone to carve through the hull.

When he finally pried the door open enough to enter the dark, powerless hold, he snatched his towel to wrap around his waist before going to investigate, hoping he wouldn’t regret leaving his armor on the fresher floor.

For as long as he’d lived in the Razor Crest, he would have thought that he could navigate blindfolded, but with all the doors shut and no light filtering in from up top, he moved slowly and cautiously, hoping that Alaina and the kid were okay and that this was something easily repaired—

He was surprised when he crashed into something—“Oof,” a familiar voice muttered in the dark—or someone. He scrambled to keep them upright, but every move he made seemed to comically tangle them worse until they tumbled to the floor in a heap, and he just barely managed to stick his arms out to brace himself and prevent his body from squishing Alaina’s.

“Ugh,” Alaina groaned from her spot under him. “Mando?”

“Alaina? What happened?”

“The womp rat,” she growled, and the irritation in her voice caught him off guard.

“The kid? How did the kid cut the power?”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” she groaned. “I shouldn’t have left him alone. He was getting really crabby—like borderline tantrum levels. So, I thought I would be nice and get his stuffed frog because I was hoping that him getting crabby meant he was tired, and I thought if I got his frog, I could get him to finally go to sleep by the time you were out of the shower—"

“Alaina,” he interrupted her ramblings and brought his hands to rest on her cheeks. “Relax, Tranyc. Just tell me how the kid did it, and I can fix it.”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“You don’t know?” He sighed when she didn’t answer and said, but he felt her head shake in his hand. “It’s pitch black. I can’t see you. Use your words.”

Alaina heaved an annoyed sigh. “I came down to the hold to get his frog,” she paused to pat the floor around them until she found what she was looking for and shoved the stuffed frog in his face to feel. “And we had the door shut to give you privacy, so when I made it back up to the cockpit, the lights just went out, and now I can’t open the door.”

He blinked as he processed her story and couldn’t stop the quiet chuff from escaping his lips.

“It’s not funny,” she grumbled, and he smiled at her tone because he could hear her pouting in the darkness.

His chuff slowly morphed into a full-blown belly laugh, and he only laughed harder when she slapped his chest.

“It’s not funny! I locked us out of the cockpit! The door won’t open or anything! We’re locked out, and this whole thing will probably traumatize Grogu for the rest of his life.”

Squeals of laughter floated down to them, and he rolled his eyes through his laughter at the kid’s antics. "You're right, he does sound traumatized," he teased, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She slapped his chest weakly again, “You can’t see it, but I want you to know I’m rolling my eyes at you.” He hummed in acceptance and smiled when Alaina’s fingers ghosted over his chest. “You’re naked,” she whispered, and the innocence in that tiny declaration brought an entire day's worth of frustrations rushing back to him.

“I was in the shower,” he murmured, bringing his other hand to cup her face, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin under his fingers. “Was a little too concerned about you and the kid to worry about getting dressed.”

One of her hands left his chest to rest on his freshly shaved cheek. “But your helmet?”

“Can you see me?”

“No.”

“Then it’s okay. At least it doesn’t sound like the kid is in any kind of distress,” he joked, but Alaina didn’t laugh along with him. “Alaina, this isn’t your fault. The kid probably just yanked out some spark plugs. It's my fault for never replacing the cover when I broke it years ago. It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

Slowly, subtly, he felt her withdraw from their moment as her muscles began to tense under him, and he stroked her head. It was strange to feel something wrong before he heard or saw it. But the small, warm cord in his chest went cold right before a quiet sniffle came from under him, and he stroked her cheek, surprised to find an errant tear sliding down. “Alaina? What’s wrong?”

"I'm sorry, it's nothing," she murmured. She tried to brush the tears from her face, but he gripped her tighter.

"It's not nothing," he argued. "You can't lie to me. I can feel you now," he reminded her. Surely, she wasn’t so upset about something as easily fixable as this. 

He could feel her head shake before he heard another sniffle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was going to bother me,” she whispered, and he could hear her trying to hold her emotions back.

“Alaina—” and then it hit him. He had her in exactly the same position he’d found her and likely in the exact same spot that carcass had pinned her. “I’m sorry,” he apologized and scrambled to try and get off of her, but her hands gripped his wrists and refused to let him go.

“No, don’t—”

He shook his head in the dark, forgetting she couldn't see him. “Stop, you have a right to be upset. I wasn't thinking—”

“Wait! It just caught me off guard. Please. I didn’t… Mando—Din,” she breathed out, and he froze at how she spoke his name. Her hands came to rest on his chest before she whispered, “Din Djarin, make me forget him."

He sighed and brought his forehead to rest against hers. "Alaina—"

"Please," she pleaded, and he could feel her warm breath puff against his face. "I'm okay, I promise. I want you, Din. Make me forget him. Please,” she whispered from under him.

There was nothing in the galaxy that would make him happier.

His lips and body came crashing down around her. His hands held her face tightly while softly kissing her in the darkened hold. He smiled into the kiss when he felt her fingers thread into his hair and her body melt under him. Her legs came up to squeeze his torso, and she tried to deepen their kiss, trying to spur him to lose control, but he held firm. He went for slow and languid with this kiss, savoring every moment he could.

Because he could.

Because this wasn’t goodbye, this wasn’t the end.

This was their beginning.

And he wasn’t going to skip over anything.

He was going to take his time and remember to thank the womp rat for this little stolen moment with Alaina.

Her lips veered away, running up his jawline all the way to his ear.

“Stars, Alaina,” he groaned when her tongue came out to trace along his ear before beginning its descent down his neck.

He became lost in the feeling of her. He became lost in the feeling of them. Because with her walls down, he could feel her desire, which only amplified his own. When her lips made it down his neck to his pulse point, he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt her timid teeth come out to nip the flesh under them.

“Fuck,” he groaned and pulled away to go back for her lips before beginning his own descent down her chin to her neck. “I’m gonna do it right this time,” he murmured between kisses.

“What was wrong with the last time?” Alaina asked. He smiled at her nervous question and brought his head back up to nuzzle his nose into hers before he pressed his lips firmly against hers.

“Nothing, Tranyc,” he told her, smiling when he felt her smile again. “But I’m gonna do it right this time, Alaina. I’m gonna show you how your first time should have been.” He pressed his weight into her, and Alaina’s legs rubbed up and down his waist.

He tore his mouth away long enough to find the hem of her shirt in the dark and pulled it over her head in one, smooth motion. Din ran his hands down her silky skin and returned his lips to her collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way down her body. When he reached her breasts, he paid equal amounts of attention to each one and smiled into her sternum when he felt Alaina try to hold his head to her. There would be more time for that later. But for now, he had other plans in mind.

As he made his way down her abdomen, his fingers found the hem of her underwear and slowly slid them down her legs. He sat on his knees and grabbed her left leg to begin pressing kisses from her knee to the inside of her thigh all the way up until Alaina squirmed. He placed that leg over his shoulder, repeating his actions until he was settled on his stomach on the floor with his head nestled between her legs.

“Mando?” Alaina panted and gasped when he bit the inner flesh of her thigh. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Relax,” he soothed her, continuing his trail up her thigh until he reached her center. “And what did I tell you to call me?”

“Din,” she breathed his name out like she was saying a prayer, and he rewarded her by placing a tender kiss on her folds, forcing her to jump in surprise. Before she could say anything else, he flattened his tongue against her and slid through her. Alaina hissed and tensed when his tongue circled her clit. “Din,” she moaned this time, but he could still feel that her body was strained. She was nervous.

“Has no one ever done this for you before?” he questioned, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin before him.

“N-n-noo,” she stuttered and tried to close her legs, but his grip on her thighs tightened, preventing her from hiding herself from him.

“Relax, Mesh’la,” he purred, pulling her nub between his lips. He used his hands to massage her thighs while he sucked on her again. The faintest mewl came from her lips, and the sound almost broke him. “Let me take care of you.”

He could hear her suck in a deep breath as his tongue dipped back in for another taste. Din couldn’t stop his own moan at the taste and feel of his tongue sliding effortlessly through her slick. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, and Alaina rocked her center into his face, forcing the delicate bundle of nerves hiding inside to knock against his nose.

“There you go, Tranyc,” he praised her, nuzzling his face inside her folds before he plunged his tongue as far inside of her as he could.

Alaina gasped, and her hips jolted into his face. “Mmm, Din,” she keened.

Din Djarin was in heaven. 

Having this remarkable woman quiver around him and say his name like that… should be illegal. Not to mention that she tasted like karking sunshine. But she still hadn’t fully relaxed for him yet. She was wound up and nervous, but he wanted her to relax and let him take care of her.

He withdrew his tongue from her channel and switched tactics. After a couple of unsuspecting laps through her center, spreading her sweet juices with his tongue, he latched onto her clit with his lips and sucked.

Greedily.

Alaina’s hand shot to his head and her fingers latched painfully to his hair, making him moan in pleasure. When she forcefully ground herself harder over his face, he rewarded her by sucking harder onto her nub. He attacked her as if his life depended on it. He sucked and lapped at her until the pitch-black hold was filled with a crescendo of Alaina’s breathless pants and moans.

“Din,” she mewled, tugging on his hair. “Din—I’m—” she gasped when he brought his teeth out and grazed her clit with them, and she came with an almost silent moan, but her thighs shook and quivered around his head, and her juices flooded over his tongue.

He drank her all in, lapping, licking, and sucking her through it until her orgasm dwindled to quiet pants, and her legs collapsed bonelessly over his shoulders as she melted into a puddle on the floor.

“That was—” she tried to start but couldn’t catch her breath. “That was—I hadn’t ever—”

“Did you like it, Tranyc?” he asked, already guessing the answer judging by the amount of her slick coating his mustache and chin.

“Yes,” she breathed, carding her fingers through his hair. His eyes closed at the contact, and he felt like he could purr like a loth cat from her gentle touch. “Would—I mean, I haven’t ever—well, that’s not—I mean—”

Din smiled at her nonsensical babbling to slide his tongue through her sensitive slit again, forcing her incoherent words to come to an abrupt stop and instead replaced them with a low groan.

“Would you like me to… um… return the favor?”

His brain short-circuited, and he rested his head in her lap at her nervous question. “Oh, Tranyc,” he purred. “As much as I want nothing more than to feel your sweet mouth on me like that—” he grunted as his body already responded to the image of Alaina on her knees, taking him with her mouth. “You would bring this moment to an end far too soon, and I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?” she asked. At the sultry sound of her voice, he smiled into her thigh.

He gripped her thighs and brought his mouth back to her center to distract her from his right hand moving from her leg to join his mouth between her legs. "You tell me, Tranyc," he purred as his middle finger ghosted a path through her slick middle.

Alaina's hips jolted, and her chest filled with air at his touch. "M-me?" she stuttered.

He hummed in agreement and felt her shudder from the vibrations of the low noise. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about this," he murmured, bringing his lips up to kiss her hipbone as his finger teased her opening. He slowly inched the digit in and had to bite back a groan when he felt her walls flutter around his fingertip. "I know you dreamed about it."

Her body stilled under him. "Y-y-you did?"

"Mmmmm," he hummed into her hip as he slid his finger in one smooth motion through her velvet walls to his knuckle. She gasped, and he could feel her chest start to take shallow breaths again. He eased his finger out of her heat until it completely left her, only for him to enter her warmth again just as slow and steady as he entered her the first time, and continued his slow, torturous pace until Alaina mewled and squirmed under him. "What were you dreaming about, mesh'la?" he whispered.

"S-s-org-gan," she stuttered breathlessly.

His eyes lit up at that new information, and he felt like a wolf smiling down on his unsuspecting prey. He increased his languid pace as a reward for this new crumble of information. "I've dreamed about you too. Do you want to know what I dreamed about?"

"Yes," she panted when he changed the angle of his slow massage.

He started peppering kisses up her abdomen until he reached her sternum and turned his head to lick her nipple. "I dreamed about our flying lessons," he said darkly, grabbing the stiff, pebbled flesh between his teeth. 

"Din," she moaned and brought one hand up to the back of his head and her other to rest between his shoulder blades. "You don't like our flying lessons," she said after another minute, sounding confused.

"You don't like our flying lessons," he reminded her, hooking his finger sheathed inside of her at the same time he moved his head to nip at the underside of her breast.

"Oh!" she yelped, her hips rocking into his hand, seeking more from him.

"You were being a brat," he continued the retelling of his dream, smiling into her chest while his lips across her chest and toward her neck.

"I'm no-not a brat," she stuttered, attempting to defend herself.

He shoved a second finger inside her to reprimand her for her sass. Alaina gasped, and her fingernails dug deliciously into his shoulder blades. "Oh, you can be a brat, Tranyc," he murmured, and she dug her nails harder into his back. "But I'll tell you a secret," he whispered, moving his lips to pull her bottom lip into his mouth while he continued to work his fingers inside of her. "I like it when you're being a brat to me. No one, and I mean no one, can get me as infuriated or as worked up as quickly as you can, mesh'la."

Alaina quietly giggled, and then that muted laughter turned into a gasp when his fingers started stretching her, preparing her for him. "Maker—Ohhhhhhhh!" she moaned loudly in his ear when he sharply thrust his fingers inside of her. "Diiiin."

"You were being a brat and wouldn't stop pushing my buttons, so I decided to teach you a lesson."

"I'm—not—a—brat," she eventually managed to get out between breaths.

"Mmmmm," he hummed into her lips before he kissed her. "That's what you said in my dream, too," he murmured right before he yanked his finger from her heat.

Din didn't give her a chance to protest. He grabbed her waist between his hands and tossed her over his shoulder before he climbed to his feet. He walked the three steps to the hull and felt around until he found the ladder leading up top. He gripped her hips in his hands and pulled her off his shoulder to line his eager, throbbing length up with her center. "Tell me again that you're not a brat," he ordered, dropping his voice an octave.

"I'm—not—" she began, but he wouldn't let her finish. His hips canted upward, notching the tip of his weeping cock inside her velvety soft walls. Alaina gasped at the feeling and clenched her walls impossibly tight around him, forcing his right hand to fly off her hip to grip the base of his cock to keep him from spilling right there. With only one hand holding on to her hips, Alaina started groaning and rocking her hips over him.

"Fuck," he moaned into her cheek. "You're just as tight as I remember."

Her body began to writhe between him and the ladder as she continued trying to take more of him in. She slid her hips up until he slipped from her warmth, forcing a hiss from both of them at the loss of contact. Blessedly, her hips sunk back down, finding the head of his cock and going slightly past it before she inched herself off of him again. She repeated this as soft sounds of her pleasure left her mouth as she continued to take him a little more each time, slowly allowing her body to adjust to his girth. "Din," she keened against his lips, and he could feel her face crumple in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Feeling slightly more in control of his body, and his hand left his cock to return to her hip again. He leaned into her head and found her lips with his, giving her a searing kiss that she returned just as passionately. "Say it again, Laina," he murmured between kisses. "Say my name."

"Din," she repeated against his lips.

"Fuck," he growled at the sweet way she spoke his name. His hips lost control and canted upward, allowing his rigid length further inside of her.

"Din!" she cried out, arching her back off the ladder into his chest.

"Again," he grunted.

"Din," she breathed out quietly, only to immediately scream it when he rammed his hips between her legs, spearing his cock the rest of the way inside of her.

His fingers dug into the flesh on her hips, holding her still over him while he ground himself so far inside of her that the head of his cock nudged her womb, and she cried out. "To think," he started and ran his lips along her bottom jaw, "you wanted just to skip over this part."

Alaina shook her head, and he bit down on her jaw, forcing her still. "No," she panted. "No skipping," she murmured, writhing against him. "Not with you, Din."

He pulled his hips back to slide his length out until he almost left her before sliding slowly back inside until she had sheathed his cock in her velvet walls to his hilt.

"Din," she repeated breathlessly. With her jaw still between his teeth, he grunted at the sound of his name. His hips were no longer his control. They saught her warmth. "Din," she whispered, and he slammed home. "Yes," she moaned.

"Again."

"Din."

He slammed back inside of her, pinning her hips to the ladder each time he thrust home. His forehead rested against hers, so he could feel it each time his name left her lips. Alaina repeated his name, sounding as if she had completely lost herself to the pleasure. Each time his name left her lips, he rewarded her by pumping his cock slowly in and out of her. Her hands left the ladder and took him by surprise when her nails came to dig into his shoulders at the base of his neck, and she used her new leverage to help move against his cock, meeting his thrust for slow thrust.

"Yes!" she cried out when he picked up the pace and started eagerly chasing after his cock with her hips.

"Fuck, that's it, Alaina," he growled through clenched teeth at the feeling of her slick walls bobbing eagerly over his cock. He rammed harder inside of her, and her nails dug harder into his skin. With another thrust, he felt her bare breasts jiggle against his bare chest from the force. "Tell me you want to be my partner," he pleaded, losing himself to the pleasure.

"Partners," Alaina agreed, slamming her cunt over him, forcing a shout of pleasure from both their lips.

"Tell me again you want to be partners. Tell me you want to be my partner."

"Your's Din. Your's."

He snapped at her words, and his hands left her hips to grab onto the ladder, pinning her tightly between his body and the durasteel ladder as he took her.

He bucked wildly inside of her, setting a pace that she couldn't keep up with. The slick from her juices drenched his cock, allowing his rapid tempo. His lips were against hers, but they weren't kissing. Instead, their combined breaths and grunts echoed around the quiet hull; the sound was made more obscene each time he pumped inside of her, allowing them to hear how much she was soaking him with her desire.

He felt the delicious burn low in his abdomen, signaling he was close, but there was something else there. With a shock, he realized that he could also feel Alaina's desire inside of him, and being able to feel her pleasure coiled tightly was a surreal feeling. It was her and him together, standing in the ocean, watching as the tide drew out from the shore, preparing for the next wave to come crashing into them.

"I can feel you," Alaina whispered against his lips. "I can feel you. Oh my—Din!"

Din slammed his lips over her as the wave swelled and crested. He growled into her mouth as he drank in her cries of pleasure. His thrusts became erratic as he moaned through the feeling of her velvet walls rippling over his swollen cock. The wave crashed into him when he felt her cunt squeeze him tightly in his grip as it flooded his cock with her juices. 

"Alaina!" he roared and then clamped his teeth over her pulse point as his hips stuttered and started desperately slamming into her, seeking his own pleasure. His cock swelled painfully, and he felt his balls draw up in anticipation as he started losing the battle.

Alaina's fingers wound into his hair, holding him to her neck as he moaned and ground deeply inside of her.

"Din," she whispered into his head.

Hearing her say his name in such a way was the final push he needed. Like a ship that lost a battle in space, his body silently imploded before his cock pulsed, and he exploded inside of her. His teeth clamped down into her flesh as he ground himself as deeply inside of her as he could while their bodies shattered. Alaina thrashed and wailed against him as her soft walls continued to flutter around his cock, milking him for everything he had, while Din roared into her skin.

His pleasure mixed with hers until he couldn't tell who was who. 

Slowly, the bright white aftershock faded away, and when Din came to, it was piece by piece. The sounds of their breathless pants filled his ears. He pressed a tender kiss to where he felt indentations left behind from his teeth. Part of him felt bad because he knew that would hurt once she came around, but the other prideful part of him relished in the fact that he'd marked her for everyone to see that she was his. Her body slumped against the ladder, and he had to bring his hands to grip her ass to keep her from sinking to the floor. Besides, he was still enjoying the feeling of being inside her heat and the feeling of his seed mixing with her juices as they slid out of her.

"That—" Alaina panted but struggled to complete her sentence. "That was—" Din smirked into her neck and brought his lips to hers, pressing a tired, sloppy kiss to them. "Is it supposed to feel like that every time?" He smiled into their kiss when her lips finally responded. "No one—No one told me it would feel like that."

His chest swelled with pride, and he smothered her lips with his before he finally pulled away. "This is just the beginning, Alaina," he whispered, pressing another kiss to her lips.

"Mmmm. I don't think my legs work anymore," she murmured bleerily into the kiss.

"I've got you, Tranyc." Din grunted and went to smother Alaina's pained gasp with his lips as he slid out of her and moved so he could hook her legs under one arm and her chest with his other while he cradled her limp body against him. "I've got you, Alaina," he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead as he carried her to the other side of the hold to her cot.

When his leg found the low cot, he lowered her to the blankets and tried to stand back up, but her hands gripped his wrists. "I'll be right back," he promised, blindly brushing some of the hair that was plastered to her face. "I've got to see what kind of damage the kid did." Alaina dropped his wrists, and he smiled when he heard her breathing start to even out in the dark.

He felt like he was in a daze as he shuffled around the hold to return to the fresher. His hand blindly searched around the ground until he found his helmet and the sweatpants he'd brought in before his shower, leaving the rest where it was until the morning. With only a minor struggle, he managed to get his helmet and pants on before he found the ladder again, smiling when he realized he would be replaying that moment every time he needed to climb up or down it and headed through the hatch toward the cockpit. After a moment of fighting with the door, he eventually pried it open and was able to get inside to see what atrocities awaited him.

Din's gaze dropped to the floor, and he shook his head. There was Grogu, sleeping and oblivious, surrounded by at least ten spark plugs and his silver ball on the floor. Thankfully, the storm from earlier appeared to have passed, and the bright, glowing night illuminated the cockpit enough for him to fumble with the plugs to put them back in their places. With the final spark plug in place, Din flicked a switch, and the Razor Crest returned to life.

"Thanks, kid," he whispered to the sleeping child as he knelt to pick him up. With the kid tucked into his chest, he carried him back down to the hold and placed him in his hammock in the alcove. He turned around to search for the kid's stuffed frog and grabbed it from the floor to tuck in with him.

Once the kid was situated, Din turned to cross the hold, grabbing Alaina's discarded shirt and underwear as he went to open the ramp. Once the ambient light from the moon filled the hold, he shut the lights off and returned to the sleeping blonde. She had passed out on top of the blankets, leaving her exposed body for his viewing pleasure, now bathed in the soft light from outside.

"Maker," he whispered to no one as he went to join her on the cot.

As he made himself comfortable, laying next to her, he took one last lingering moment to soak her in before he turned her to pull her back against his chest as he covered them up with a blanket.

Din Djarin drifted to sleep with the single, sleepy realization that he'd lived his whole life without also knowing it was supposed to feel like that.

Of course, Din Djarin had lived his whole life without ever having a true partner.

Until now.

Author's Note #2: I hope the slow burn has been worth it 😈😜

For those of you in the US (and across the world) going into the holidays, please know that I am genuinely so thankful for every one of you. Alaina and her story would not have made it this far without your support.

With that said, for those of you going into Thanksgiving and the holiday season disheartened by certain recent events... Maybe you're in my shoes and have had to hodgepodge a Friends-giving together because you're not welcome to join your own families. Just know that I am saving a special seat for you, and you are not alone. Welcome to Clan Stardust. We're deranged, and occasionally, there is a smut monster that breaks out and wreaks havoc, but we're here. We are a safe space for all 💙

XOXO, 💫Stardust💫

Tag List: @racheldon @zenrobbins0021 @locked-ness @smoochispoof

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Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Next chapter in series - Chapter 19: First Light

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5 + 1 Fic Friday Roundup: Went Viral

Some fanfiction where social media plays an important role.

I have acquired a child. (AO3) - Din Djarin asks space Reddit for parenting advice.

The #ImmortalHusbands Conspiracy (AO3) - The Old Guard's power couple, Joe and Nicky, are a Tumblr conspiracy.

In Which Dabi's Tits Save the League and Dismantle Hero Society (AO3) - Dabi inadvertently becomes an internet sensation.

Reddit Posts of a Crime Alley Kid (AO3) - "A character study of a hot trashfire of a human being in the DCUniverse as told through his many many Reddit posts."

The GARNet AU (AO3) - "The Coruscant Guard decides to make use of their copious free time and create a clone-only holonet. This is very great for the clones and very bad for everyone else."

Bonus: Undead Lockpick Inc. (AO3) - "Danny is a Locksmith with a serious grudge against Master Lock. Superman thinks because of the name that Master Lock must mean it's a good lock. Shenanigans ensue."