#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…

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@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

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[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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Out of this World Chapter 9: Reunions and Revelations

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling OC/Reader

Summary: When an unexpected arrival shows up in Tatooine, the Mandalorian and the Earthling decide to delay their quest to find the Jedi for a few more days.

Author's Note: Oh boy, I can't believe it's been so long since I posted chapter 8. All I can say is that my life got a little chaotic for awhile and I had to put this story on hiatus while I figured a few things out. But I'm back in business! I always intended to ride this story out until the end, and I am finally in the headspace to be creative again! I never forgot about this story or these lovebirds! I love my Earthling OC/reader so much. That being said, I first posted this story two years ago and I felt that some of it could be approved upon. So I just finished going through the original 8 chapters and I made some edits. Nothing changed with the overall plot or themes, I just fixed a few mistakes and fleshed out a few scenes some more. Chapter 9 gave me a lot of trouble but I'm excited to get back into this story! I am so proud of it and I appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to read this. If you want to be added or removed from the taglist please let me know!

***** = A break in the scene or a switch between character pov.

Mando'a: Ner - my Ad’ika - little one Burc’ya - friend Cyare - beloved Cyar'ika - darling or sweetheart Riduur - spouse (husband or wife) Riduurok - marriage bond Ni kar'taylir darasuum - I will know you forever (I love you)

Warnings: Cursing, references to past trauma, conflicted foster parents, and of course, sexual situations🌶️ Smut and Fluff abound. My Din Djarin is a sweetie and just needs to be loved.

Minors DNI, Strictly 18+

AO3

*****

"Granddad?” Your voice is so small as the word comes out, so unsure. Standing in the heat of Tatooine's twin suns, Hangar 3-5 is nearly spinning as a new sort of wooziness overcomes you. Beginning to sway, a hand reaches beside you to grip at the Mandalorian's vambrace covered forearm. Steadying yourself with the one and only person you know in this galaxy who grounds you.

The old man in the dark red engineer's jumpsuit says your name again, the cadence of it sounding so familiar to you that it spawns a small sob from your throat.

“This is marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!” He says cheerfully, moving forward. “I can't believe you're really here! Took you long enough, punk.”

Peli looks you over with a facial expression of both shock and recognition, then back to the man whom she'd referred to as her partner. “Wait a sec, you mean to tell me that's really her?”

“That's really her,” the man agrees, closing the distance between himself and the rest of the group. “It appears that fate has brought us together again after all.”

Beside you, Din's body straightens up. His voice is laced with an edge that alerts you to how skeptical he really is towards this stranger. Your Mandalorian does not trust newcomers lightly.

“I believe an explanation is in order,” he says seriously, looking between Peli's new engineer and yourself.

“Quite right,” the man agrees, looking right into your eyes. “But I think it's best that you and I speak in private.”

“I agree,” you say, more words unable to find you at this moment. The shock and anger you feel is simply too great. Beginning to step towards him, you're stopped when Din grips your wrist.

“Are you sure he is trustworthy?” He asks, voice low.

“Honestly? I don't know. He was once the most trustworthy person I knew,” your own voice feels icy as you finish with, “but clearly I have been lied to. I didn't realize that deception was one of your many talents, Grandad.”

Your grandfather, Richard, looks incredibly hurt by that. The littlest pang of guilt strikes you at the sight of his downtrodden facial expression, but you try your best to ignore it.

“That's a bit unfair, punk. But you have every right to be upset,” Richard offers lamely as he moves closer to you. His arms are reaching out to perhaps offer a hug, but you're having none of that right now.

Taking a foreboding step forward, you poke a hard finger into his chest. “You're damn right I do! What the fuck, Grandad!”

The child's ears cast downward and he makes a little upset noise in Peli's arms. That's enough to steady you, to remember that your boy is watching you. Learning life's great lessons from paying attention to how you interact with others. With a sigh and a deep breath, you stop the anger before it manifests anymore than it already has.

“I will not lose my temper in front of Green Bean,” you say to no one in particular. “Let's go somewhere to talk this through.”

“Yes, let's do just that.” The old man agrees, a weary look on his wrinkled features.

You move to pat the child on the head, and his ears shift upwards again with a chirp. “Sorry about that, buddy.” Then you turn to face Din, and his body language alone tells you all you need to know of the tense mood he's suddenly in. “I will be back when he and I have said all there is to say. I do not know if we can trust him, but you know you can trust me.”

“Keep your com link open. Just in case.”  

“I will call you if I need you. Always. Ni kar'taylir darasuum,” you breathe that last part up at him, following your instinct to acknowledge your love for him regardless of those watching. It's important for you to let him know that the connection you share is still very real to you in such a surreal moment. Besides, you highly doubt your grandfather or Peli knows a lick of Mando'a.

“Ni kar'taylir darasuum,” he repeats, your name dancing on his tongue at the end of it as he nods once at you.

Then you turn back to your grandfather and the two of you exit Hangar 3-5 to walk the streets of the Mos Eisley Spaceport.

*****

Din Djarin’s chest seizes up and his stomach simultaneously drops to his boots as he watches you walk off with a man who is both a complete stranger to him, and a close blood relation to you. The sudden appearance of your grandfather has thrown him for such a loop that he's getting dizzy. It feels as if he’s not in reality anymore. There is a physical pain in his upper body. His brow is breaking out into a sweat beneath the beskar, a sweat that has nothing to do with the heat of this planet's twin suns.

Peli seems to tell that now is not a good time, so she takes the child off to her office without being promoted to do so. Calling over her shoulder, she says that she’ll keep him for a while and makes herself scarce as quickly as possible. Normally Din would argue against the child being taken away, but right now he can't think that straight.

Unsure of where else to go, he makes his way up the open ramp and into the empty Razor Crest. His way around the galaxy, and the home he prides himself with. It used to be a comfort to enter his ship completely alone, feeling no sign of another presence anywhere near his own. Din's perpetual solitude was never an issue before. In fact, it had been a welcomed thing after long days of dealing with tiresome social interactions or a particularly difficult hunt. The rest of the world would slip away and he would be in his safe haven once again, whirling through hyperspace. He'd liked that everything was in its proper place and he didn’t have to worry about anyone besides himself. A lonely existence to be sure, but one Din thought he was fine with until a few months ago. Aside from his life, when it came down to it he really had nothing to lose.

Now the ship is occupied by others and he feels as if he has absolutely everything to lose. It scares the living hell out of him to care for others, and Din Djarin has spent most of his adult life feeling scared of very few things. Fear is such an unnerving thing to him, but since you and the kid both fell into his lap he's felt it more and more every day. Din is just good at keeping uncomfortable feelings buried deeply within his chest.

Seven months ago the Razor Crest would have barely passed for a home in the eyes of another. Din’s life had been so simple then. No decor, no real personal items to speak of save for weaponry and clothing. His needs had been very basic and therefore his living conditions had been very basic. Jump to the present and the Razor Crest is a real home full of love. You have unwittingly changed the interior of the ship so much in the several months you’ve been living on it. The kid’s various art projects are hung up here or there. Your personal items have started showing up literally all over the place. He finds something of yours where it shouldn’t be at least once a week. It had irritated him once upon a time. Now he feels as if having to live without it would tear his heart in half right down the center.

Looking into the cot, Din really stops to soak in how much the tiny sleeping cabin has changed. The fluffy black blanket and accompanying pillow are neatly laid out in a way that makes it look almost like a real bed. A picture, the one the kid drew on Nevarro of the three squiggles together, hangs just above where his helmeted head rests each night beside yours. Together the three of you have a mixed scent that naturally hangs in the sleeping space. It comforts him every time he catches a whiff of it. The kid’s stuffed lava meerkat is in its rightful place, nestled in the tiny hammock. Din’s not ready to face the possibility that all of this could be about to change back to the way it was before. Cold and empty, just as he once was.

You've spoken so openly about feeling like Earth is no longer where you belong, but what if you had been saying that to try and convince yourself of something that was not true? To protect yourself from the pain of not being able to return to where you came from? He feels himself shake a little at the thought of it... that you could possibly look up at him with those big eyes that he loves so much and tell him you've changed your mind about staying. About being by his side.

It hurts so bad that an actual sob escapes his mouth, and he has to grip the ladder rungs to keep himself steady.

*****

“Explain yourself,” you say, arms crossed over your chest as you look your grandfather up and down with scrutiny. He’s changed so much since you last saw him. Thinner, but more fit. The facial hair is new, the deep tan is new. His eyes are the only true giveaway that this is really him. Striking and kind at the same time.

“What would you like to know?” He asks, seeming amused. He also seems to be taking in your appearance, regarding you with interest.

This only serves to irritate you. You’re frustrated, angry, and confused, in no mood to be funny whatsoever. “Everything, Grandad. Why did you leave? More importantly, why didn't you tell me? Was it an accident? Did you do it on purpose? Did you consciously abandon me?”

The amusement never leaves his wrinkled features. “Is it alright if I answer one at a time?”

Rolling your eyes, a sharp, angry noise escapes you. “Do you think this is funny? I mean, honestly? Stop and think about it for a moment. You fucked off out of the blue and left me to deal with all of them by myself. With her. You’re legally dead back home, just in case you were wondering about that. Oh, and your ex-wife took the fucking house away from me. Slapped me in the face with it, both literally and figuratively. I guess you better hope that no one else finds the lab. God! How fucking irresponsible can you be?!”

His face has been growing serious the entire time you’ve been angrily ranting at him, and now a deep frown has found its way into the depths of his beard, the lines of it creasing his forehead. All of the amusement in him is gone as he intones your name gravely. “No one will find the lab. The only other person on Earth who can get into it is you and now you’re finally here. There’s a fail safe in place. After you came here, everything in the room was to be rendered useless and all data was to be scrubbed. Essentially, if I did everything right, the lab will have self destructed in a way.”

“So you knew I would eventually come here?” You’re aware that he glossed over the comment about being left alone, abandoned, but you can’t help but focus on the way he said that you’re finally here.

“Well, I had hoped. I couldn’t be sure that you’d find the lab or the instructions I left you,” he replies plainly. “I also couldn't be sure that you would choose to come.”

Your jaw drops open at that. “Instructions?! There were no instructions!”

“What do you mean? I left you a recording in the lab. Is that not why you figured out how to get here?” He seems just as surprised as you are.

Shaking your head, you explain, “I only found the lab when I was told I had to move out and I was looking for paperwork about the house in your office. It was all completely accidental. After you left and a few years went by I got sick of living alone so I adopted an orange tabby cat. She’s named after Jupiter because her fur pattern reminded me of the planet. I took Jupiter down to the lab with me and she got herself into trouble as soon as we set foot on the ground. I didn't have time to take in my surroundings or find a recording before I was being sucked through time and space against my will.”

The old man gawks at you, openly dumbfounded. “Wait… do you mean to tell me that a god damned cat triggered the intergalactic transplant?”

“Ew, that’s a really gross name for that, Grandad,” you start to laugh, then the sudden swell of emotions crashes over you, sending you into a fit of near hysterical laughter. You're not sure if it's laughing, crying, or both. All of this is so incredibly surreal. It’s like he never left for a split second when you catch yourself talking to him in such a snarky tone, sounding like a much younger version of yourself.

“You know, that is a gross name for it,” the old man laughs along with you, wiping tears from his eyes. Then his tears seem to become real for a moment as well. “Jesus Christ, you’re lucky you weren’t split in half. God," he says your name in a pained voice, "I’m so very stupid and selfish. Forgive me. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing. I told myself that not a single person could know.”

“But why?”

“So that there was no way for the government to find out about it and put an end to it. If they'd caught on to what I was up to I would have either been thrown in jail for conducting illegal experiments, or the loony bin. Once my clearances were revoked I was forbidden from practicing that kind of science. But I wanted you to be involved. I wanted to teach you about what I was doing. I was just so terrified. A part of me was afraid that I really was just a crazy old man who’d read too many science fiction novels as a boy. What if after all this time, after all I had given up, I really was wrong?”

He stops walking to grab both of your hands in his, looking deeply into your eyes as he continues on, “My ego got the better of me, just as it always has. I couldn’t risk letting anyone find out about it and so I convinced myself that I couldn’t risk you being involved either. So, yes, I made the hard decision to keep you in the dark. But I felt so guilty that I decided to leave you that recording before I left. I wanted to give you the choice to either destroy everything and forget about it or to follow me here.”

“It would have been nice to just have that choice up front, you know. Not because you changed your mind at the last minute.” You cannot hide the hurt in your tone, nor do you try to.

Richard's voice is solemn, “There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by since I left that I haven’t regretted my decision not to tell you.”

Fresh tears of your own begin to fall freely as you speak from the heart. “You have no idea what I’ve dealt with in the last five years. It’s been fucking hell, Grandad. Dealing with the family was like dealing with a pack of rabid, feral dogs. The head bitch was the worst I’ve ever seen her. Pure evil. The house upkeep was stressful when I had no idea what I was doing. The government did investigate your disappearance but that didn't last long. People thought I was either nuts or sad or both for believing that you were still alive. But I had to. I had to hold onto the thought that you would never abandon me, at least not on purpose. They only declared you dead recently, so as soon as she could your ex wife was trying to get her hands on anything of yours that she felt she had a claim to. She was ready to take the house from me and leave me on the street without a care in the world. Mom and Dad certainly wouldn't have taken me in. They haven't spoken to me in a long time.”

Richard hangs his head, avoiding the intensity of your gaze. “I’m sorry all of that was so hard on you. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions and that’s on me.”

“Yeah, you really didn’t. I missed you so much, but deep down I was also so angry with you that I wanted to find you just so I could rip you to shreds myself.” That intensity isn’t going to leave your eyes anytime soon. This is all just far too much. You're so overwhelmed. “And while you’ve been gallivanting on your grand space adventures, I’ve been trying to stay sane picking up the pieces of what you left behind. If I hadn't ended up here when I did, who knows what my life would look like right now.”

His voice wavers slightly, “Not all of this has been an adventure. I’ve had a couple of pretty close calls. Ended up in a prison camp at one point. Got picked up by slavers and only barely escaped. You won’t believe the kinds of awful things going on in this galaxy. Wasn’t until I met Peli that things started to feel right, like I was finally home.”

You scoff a little, “Oh I believe it. I’ve just spent the last seven months traveling the outer rim on that Razor Crest with the Mandalorian and the kid. I’ve nearly been killed. I’ve killed. I’ve seen some weird ass shit… but honestly, Grandad? I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I feel like this is where I was always meant to be. Weirdly enough, life here has started to make sense in a way that it never did on Earth.” As the words leave your lips, you realize just how true that statement really is. This galaxy really feels like home now. Earth doesn't even feel like an option anymore.

Richard’s eyes hold the smile that graces his lips long after they return to a neutral state. “Well you fit in with this part of the universe beautifully. I didn’t recognize you at first, and I mean that as a very large compliment. This feels like the most authentic version of you, punk. And it's a good thing, too. In the recording I left you, I told you not to make the decision to come lightly because if you did, then you could never go back to Earth again. So I hope you're fine with sticking around.”

You can't help but agree, “Same goes for you, old man. I barely knew it was you at first when you came out from behind the Crest. But this suits you. You fit here. And at first I wanted to go back to Earth because I was terrified and confused, but now I can't imagine what the point of going back there would be at all. I've changed so much. And even with danger around every corner, this galaxy is so much better than Earth. I've been to so many planets and moons, met so many different species.”

“Seems as if we’ve both changed for the better," he muses.

You regard him seriously then, continuing to walk down the sandy streets of the desert city. “I need to understand everything. Please, I’ll listen as long as I need to but I have to know. How did you even figure out how to get here? Did you know where you were going to end up when you did it?”

Richard chuckles at your rapid fire questioning, musing, "Some things about you haven't changed at all. That’s a lot of ground to cover, but I promise to tell you everything. Can you convince your Mandalorian friend to stay for a few days? We’ve got so much catching up to do.”

Just thinking of Din brings a happy smile to your lips, feeling excited to share the tale of the love you’ve found with your only father figure. “I think he understands the gravity of the situation. He probably already knows I’ll want to stay on Tatooine for a few days, even though we are on a mission of sorts. The Mandalorian and I are… close.”

With a knowing glint in his eye, he smiles at you fondly. “I thought I suspected a certain intimacy between you.”

You can’t help it, gushing a little as you reply. “I’ve never felt love like this, Grandad. He’s my best friend. He’s becoming everything to me. So is the child under our care. They're my family.”

“Then I must know everything about him. How the two of you came to be.”

“You’re not getting off that easy. You first.”

“Alright. I suppose it's best to start at the beginning. What do you know of the phenomenon the locals refer to as The Force?”

*****

“Where’s Mando?” You ask Peli as you re-enter the hanger a long while later, eyes on the lookout for your cosmic companion and your would-be foster child.

The twin suns are nearly set when you and your grandfather return from the long walk on the hot sands. Being reunited with him is both a thrill, and a drain. You're exhausted after talking for so long, listening to him talk, and feeling through so many complicated emotions in one afternoon. You desperately want to be surrounded by your little family and take comfort in the solace of your mobile home. After the conversation with your grandfather, you're filled with a new confidence about your feelings for both Din and the child. The closeness with them is somehow more real than it was before.

The eccentric little woman is currently using the flames from an engine to cook the hunk of krayt dragon meat on a makeshift spit. Noticing this, you finally spot one of your boys. The kid is standing a little too close to the flames in your opinion, so on instinct you move him about a foot backwards. When he pouts up at you, you wink down at him. “Gotta stay safe, Green Bean. It’s only because I love you.”

Peli shrugs, looking as if she’s genuinely concerned in spite of the fact that she’s trying to play it off. “He’s on the ship. Been up there since you two walked off. Seems moodier than usual if ya ask me.”

With a soft roll of the eyes you shake your head, having a good notion as to why Din may be acting moody. After seeing how stiff he was acting before you'd left, it makes sense. Crouching down in front of the kid to pat lovingly at his little head, you ask him, “Can you do me a favor, kiddo? Please stay down here with Peli and Gramps while I go see what’s going on with your dad, okay?” The child nods up at you in response, and you thank him as you look back at the two elder adults. “Do you guys mind watching him for me?”

Richard shakes his head, “Of course not. Go ahead, punk.”

Making your way up and into the ship, you hesitantly call out for Din. He doesn’t respond, so you go looking for him. Not in the cot, the fresher, the galley, or the cargo hold. Upstairs is the only next logical option so you climb the ladder's rungs, growing increasingly more worried the closer you ascend to the top. The cockpit door stands motionless before you, so you take a deep breath and shake out your arms a little before you press the button to open it.

Din is seated on the floor, his back up against the pilot's seat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other laid out straight. He’s facing your direction, so when the door opens with a loud swoosh, his silver head immediately snaps up to look at you. Jupiter is in his lap, a bare hand nestled in her fur as he strokes her back softly.

You come to sit down on the floor in front of him, legs crossed in front of you. You wish briefly that you could take the helmet off. Not to see him, but to comfort him by touching his face. He’s sniffling slightly, and you can't help wondering if he’s been weeping.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him genuinely, reaching forward to touch his helmet with gentle fingers. The cat chooses this moment to leap from his lap and leave her two humans to seek out something only a cat could want.

His breath hitches, coming out with a hiss in the speakers of the modulator. You're surprised when he turns his head from you as he speaks, clearly avoiding your gaze. “You can leave now. Go back to Earth. If you ever decide that this isn’t what you want, you can just leave and then I’d never see you again. When I realized that, ner cyare, it frightened me more than anything in a very long time.”

Part of you is floored by this for a moment, shocked that he would think that you would even consider going back to Earth after all that the two of you have been through together. But a part of you also knew that this was how he may react to the sudden appearance of your long lost grandfather. The entire situation is jarring, so you don't really blame him for having anxiety about it.

“You’ll be thrilled to know that Grandad hasn’t created a way to go back and he doesn't plan to. He came here with the intention of spending the rest of his life here. According to him the device back home has been rendered useless. But more importantly, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. With you. You’re my family, Din Djarin. You and our Green Bean.” Whispering this last sentence, you realize that this is the first time you’ve declared him to be your family to, for lack of a better term, his face. The feeling of fullness in your emotional center warms you, spreading throughout your body in little waves.

Din counters, “Technically he has the ability to build another device if you really change your mind. If he could build it once he could theoretically do it again. And he has access to much more advanced technology here.”

A little noise of frustration erupts from your throat, your hands balling up into fists as you speak, “Oh my god, Din! What in the hell do I have to do to convince you that I’m not going anywhere? Marry you?!” You freeze up as you say this, having not realized the gravity of your words before letting them leave your mouth. A hand flies to your lips, but it's too late to contain what you've already said.

He says nothing at first, only stares at you for a long moment. Then he tilts his head, almost in a foreboding way. His voice sounds dead serious, “Do not make light of that, please.”

“I’m not making light of that. I’m being very serious," you plea.

“I wouldn’t want you to marry me out of some sort of obligation to make me feel more secure,” he replies, the slightest bit of bitterness in his tone with a taste of fear at the edge of it.

“That’s not-,” you start to get fired up again but you quickly stop yourself with closed eyes, taking a deep breath as you adjust your posture. “You misunderstood me. What I was trying to say is that I want to be with you for as long as humanly possible. So if that means eventually marrying you and making this a true life-long bond, then I would do so without hesitation. It wouldn’t be out of obligation in the slightest, it would be out of love.”

Din's shoulders relax a little, voice relaxing as well, "I would like to be with you as long as possible too, but right now I do not know what that entails. We need to figure out what's going to happen with the kid before anything else."

"I know that. I was just trying to make a point." As you try to reassure him, suddenly an embarrassed little feeling stirs in you for having steered the conversation in this direction by accident. The newness of the relationship and the subject of marriage being brought up so early into it, twice in the same week, makes you feel anxious as a silence befalls you both.

“That Tusken was right, though. You’d make a fine wife,” Din says after a moment, his voice sounding significantly better as he sits up. The anxiety laced within his tone is melting away.

Your heart soars at that, your own anxiety subsiding a little. Grinning, you lean forward and kiss the helmet where his cheek lies beneath the beskar, using the pad of your thumb to wipe away the mark your lips leave behind. “Sounds like you’re smiling again under there, Chrome Dome.”

He stiffens slightly. “How do you know that?”

You give a knowing smile of your own, grasping for his gloved hand. “I can hear it in your voice when you smile sometimes. It’s only something I’ve picked up on recently. I like to feel your mouth when I’m blindfolded, and I’ve started to realize what your voice sounds like when those lips of yours are turned upwards at me.”

Din makes an indistinguishable noise. “Come here, ner burc’ya.” He pulls you to him then, holding you in a firm embrace as he rests his helmeted head on your shoulder. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

“I love you too, my sweet warrior.” Cradling the beskar, you hold him against you for a long while. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum. I told you I would know you forever. I wouldn't say it the Mandalorian way if I didn't mean it. Please trust that I'm not going to leave so long as we continue to be good for each other."

"I will," he breathes, "I will trust you."

“You’d make a great husband, you know,” you say after the silence which befalls you both no longer feels comfortable. Now that it’s out on the table you might as well talk about it. If he's going to trust you, then you're going to have to trust him in return. Trust that he will handle your feelings with the care and respect of a true partner.

He lifts up to look at you. “You think so?”

“Duh," you exaggerate the word, "I can’t imagine a better man to spend my life with. It would be an honor to introduce you to others as my husband, and to grow old by your side.”

Din sighs, avoiding your gaze again for a moment. “Occasionally I worry that the affection you have for me is misplaced.”

“Why?” You ask, urging him to look at you with a gentle hand to the base of the beskar.

Din shrugs, shaking his helmeted head before the visor looks you dead on again. “I cannot provide you with a normal life. I can only offer you what I know, and I only know the life of a Mandalorian.”

You scoff, “I’ve never once said that I want a normal life.”

“What if you decide that you do one day?”

With a roll of the eyes you squeeze his bare hand, then bring the knuckles to your lips and kiss the ridges with several small pecks. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We can figure out what our normal looks like. My poor shiny friend, you worry far too much. Learn to live in the moment, to enjoy your present life before it passes you by. I'm finally learning to do that myself.”

Din's head tilts slightly. He doesn't break the contact between your hands though, running his thumb over yours. “I’m a trained Mandalorian warrior. Planning for multiple outcomes and thinking tactically is how I was raised.”

You frown, “This isn’t battle, though.”

His tone shifts to a vulnerable one, his head shifting again with it. “In a way it is. In a way, a life long bond between two individuals is just as much a strategic thing as planning a siege. You have to map out the right time to bring up something uncomfortable, just as you would map out the right time to blockade all entry points of an enemy’s base. You must devise when it’s appropriate to trust another with your most sacred and private feelings, just as you must devise when it's appropriate to offer a bargain for the enemy’s surrender. You have to think every choice over carefully when your heart is entangled with the heart of another, or you could strangle both hearts entirely and kill whatever it is that binds them together in the first place.”

You stare at him for a long moment, taking in everything that he just expressed as your eyes scan over the beskar. For a man who barely spoke when you first met, he’s gotten much more comfortable with long and eloquent ways to articulate his thoughts. Hearing him describe what he shares with you from his viewpoint is incredibly powerful, helping you to better understand the man you care for so dearly.

“Thank you for explaining your perspective. I feel like I just got to know a much deeper level of how you see the world. That means a lot to me,” the words flow from your lips earnestly.

“I appreciate that you listen,” he says softly, “that you always strive to understand me.”

“Of course,” you reply, hand trailing over his chest plate, “but, admittedly, I’ve never had to try very hard. You make it incredibly easy to love you, Din.”

“I feel the same way about you,” he says even softer, melting your heart a little more. “Parts of this are still uncomfortable for me but loving you, knowing you, comes so naturally. I used to try so hard to fight it in those early months but it was no use.”

“What are the odds that Greef's business proposition would lead to this?” You muse idly.

“I think that very same thing all the time,” Din’s voice is almost full of wonder.

Seeing a window of opportunity, you bring up what you came to talk to him about, “Speaking of which, I actually have a proposition of my own.”

“I’m listening,” he urges you on, sitting up more.

“Since our one and only lead turned out to be a bust and we have no idea where to go next, is it okay if we delay for a couple of days? I’d like to spend time with Grandad before we carry on with the mission.”

“This is not something I would consider a delay, cyar’ika. You thought that he was gone forever, and now he’s back in your life. That is not an insignificant thing. I’ll give you as much time as you need.”

“You’re the best,” you grin, butting your forehead into his metal clad one.

“So you love to tell me,” Din chuckles.

“I do have one complaint about you though,” you say with a cheeky little smirk.

“And that is?” He sounds as if he's raised an eyebrow, head tilting.

“You're still covered in krayt dragon, and I'm pretty sure we both stink.”

*****

Nightfall comes and Din finds himself seated by the flames of a small fire in Hangar 3-5, with you seated in a way so that you are next to but also leaning on him. One arm is wrapped around your waist and the other is draped along the piece of spare equipment he’s leaning against. You feel so right pressed to him like this, and the word riduur continues to float around in his mind. He must be going mad for thinking about marriage this much and so soon. Yes, the two of you have been close friends for several months but you’ve been lovers for a much shorter amount of time. Perhaps he’s so lost in the throws of love that he cannot think clearly anymore. Or perhaps the idea of marrying you is the clearest he’s ever thought about anything in his entire life.

Either way, he pulls you close and savors how perfect your weight feels against him. The way you convulse into him as you laugh at something your grandfather says. The scent of your freshly clean body, faint as it is within the helmet. Din’s chest swells at the sensation of spousal yearning, arm squeezing you the littlest bit tighter. You seem to respond to this, pressing your hand into his inner thigh and glancing back at him with a knowing little smile. He can see the love in your eyes, and briefly wishes that you could see it being returned in his own. A wish that he quickly pushes away, ashamed slightly.

Peli and Richard have provided the group with two bottles of wine. One for the two of them and one for Din and yourself. Not usually one to drink, Din hasn’t had much of it. You’ve had one cup and your body seems to have relaxed into the feeling of it, though your mind remains sharp as you discuss the things you miss about Earth with your grandfather.

“Okay,” you giggle, a sound Din has cherished for months, “what are the top five Earth foods you miss eating? For me it's pizza with pineapples and peppers, cheeseburgers with mushrooms, any kind of sushi, cheesy mashed potatoes, and spaghetti. Angel hair pasta of course.”

Din has no idea what any of that food is. You've spoken about some of these things before, so he's vaguely familiar with the terminology you use but when it comes down to truly understanding, he's at a loss as to what constitutes as a cheeseburger. He'd be interested to know what it tastes like, if only to understand why you speak of it with such reverence.

Richard hums as he considers this, a look of concentration on his brow. “That's a good one. I think mine are going to have to be BLTs, crab cakes, French onion soup, beef stroganoff, and spaghetti for me as well. You used to make great spaghetti.”

“Oh my god I would die for a bowl of it right now,” you lament. “With extra Parmesan cheese. And garlic bread.”

“Does any of that sound good to you, Mando?” Peli asks with a scrunched expression. “These Earthlings are weird-ooohs if you ask me.”

“I'd have to see it to know, but it all certainly sounds bizarre.” Din replies honestly.

You look up at him with a wide grin, “I think a good slice of pizza would change your life, Mando.”

Just then a piece of metal whizzes past his head, nearly dinging the beskar. The kid is in your lap playing with some spare parts down by Din's feet, using his ability to make them float around in front of his face as if he is playing with toy starships. One of the 'ships' must have had a great victory over the one that flew past him, if he had to guess.

“That child is something else,” Richard remarks from the other side of the fire where he’s laying down with his head in Peli’s lap.

Din must admit, seeing Peli in a romantic relationship is very odd. He’s sure that seeing them like that is strange for you as well. Richard himself eludes Din for a multitude of reasons. The Mandalorian is skeptical of this stranger, regardless of who he is to you. When Din had asked you to tell him your grandfather's explanation for why any of this happened to the two of you in the first place, you told Din that you would talk to him about it when you've had more time to process everything. He wants to know for himself if this man can be trusted after keeping something so monumental from you, but for now he will trust you and hope that's enough.

The old man then adds, “I've heard so much about The Force but I've never seen it used before.”

You chuckle, your body rumbling into Din's as you stroke one of the child's long ears. “You haven’t seen the half of it with our little green bean, old man. He’s the most remarkable little kid in the galaxy.” The child smiles up at you when you say this, so naturally you lean forward to kiss his wispy haired little head. Din's chest swells with love at the sight of it.

“She’s not just saying that. It’s a special little critter,” Peli agrees, one hand stroking the wild gray hair of her companion. Then she looks directly at Din. “Why don’t you let us care for him tonight so that the two of you may find proper rest.”

Din begins to argue, “We sleep just fine with him.”

She counters again, “Yes but this can give you a chance to really sleep through the night. Just for tonight. I mean no offense, Mando, but you both look like you could use it.”

Din wants desperately to retort with a snarky inquiry as to how she knows what he looks like, but he holds his tongue and instead waits for you to answer. To see what your opinion is, and listen to it with respect. Almost like real parents. Like a husband and wife, he thinks against his will.

After mulling this over for a moment, you finally respond with your thoughts. “I think it should be up to the kid where he wants to sleep. If he’s excited about a sleepover then sure, but if he seems uncomfortable it’s probably best he stay home with us.”

“Well, little guy, what do ya say? You wanna camp out with your old auntie Peli and, well gee, I dunno what we should call Richard.” Peli looks at her companion curiously.

“You can just call me 'old man', kiddo. That’s what your mama always called me.” Richard offers a little chuckle along with this.

“I'm not his mama,” you blurt rather sharply, mood shifting to a saddened tone, "but what I wouldn't give to be."

Din notices how tense you get when you say that, hearing the pain in your voice. He feels a little guilty then, knowing that you're denying the title mostly to appease him and his creed. The arm he has around you tightens, and he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Cyar’ika, you don’t have to-”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Peli interjects with an almost dismissive wave of the hand, “the two of you are more like parents to him than anyone else in the galaxy. Who else provides him with a home? Feeds him? Loves him? Knows him?”

Din's heart feels strangled at that last word. Know. What a significance that word has in his culture. Love is one thing. Love is so intense and passionate and can, unfortunately, be sometimes fleeting. But to know someone is another thing entirely. The love is there of course, but the knowing is what makes that love last forever. That is why a Mandalorians says 'ni kar'taylir darasuum' in lieu of 'I love you'. Because it is so much more than that. There's no way that Peli could have known how much that phrase would impact him, could she? It feels so directed at him. But perhaps Din is feeling sensitive around the subject of the child to begin with.

Richard nods in agreement with Peli, getting up to come squat down and speak directly to the child in your lap, the fire a backdrop to his image. “I was adopted,” he tells the green baby, “and I know that the love I felt from my parents was more real to me than any sort of biological connection I have with the ones who made me. They provided a home where I was loved, respected, and nurtured. A home where I was allowed to grow and be myself. You see, I never felt like I fit in very much on Earth. Which is why I found a way to come here. But when I was a little one like you, my parents made me feel like I could fit in anywhere.”

The kid seems to be soaking in this information, looking up at the old man with wide eyes and little babbles.

You make a choked little sound and grab around for Din’s gloved hand, squeezing once you take hold. He knows then that you’re not really okay and you’re hiding it very well.

“We are his caretakers,” Din starts with the same speech he’s been giving to everyone for months, a very small sliver of him hating himself for saying it, “and should he choose to stay with us we would gladly become his parents. But it is my duty to find his people and bring him to his own kind. He must decide for himself what path he wishes to take. By creed, so it must be.”

“He’s just a baby though,” your grandfather argues, brow furrowed. "He can't possibly understand your creed. All that he understands is that you are the ones who love him right now."

Din starts to get a little defensive at that. “He’s fifty years old. He’s completely aware of what's going on around him and he’s very smart. Technically yes, he’s a baby, but he’s also more capable than the average infant.”

“You haven’t seen what he can do, Grandad,” you agree, adding, “Mando's creed is a sacred thing that none of us are equipped to understand. He's doing what is right by the kid in the best way he knows how, and that's enough.”

Although it must pain you to defend something Din knows you do not wish to be a reality, he's very thankful that you choose to back him up in this moment. You really are his partner. Wife, his mind repeats against his will.

Richard nods to Din, seeming to back off after you've put your foot down. “Well I’m sure the two of you know what you’re doing. But we’d love to watch the little one for you both tonight.”

“What do you say? You wanna have a sleepover with them, love bug?” You ask down to the kid, smile warming when he looks up at you wide-eyed. “Mando and I are fine with it, sweetheart. Might be fun to break up the routine a little.”

The kid seems to think this over before looking up at you with a little nod, squeezing your fingers with a tiny hand as he makes affirmative noises.

Conversation and drinks carry on for a while longer. After an hour the kid is just about tuckered out completely, snuggled up to Din’s left inside of the pram. He’s wrapped in his small blanket with the lava meerkat plush, eyes fighting desperately to stay open so he can be part of the fun. Din chuckles, reaching his free hand out to stroke the kid’s ear with a gloved finger. He feels endeared, recalling how it felt to be a child wanting to be included in the confusing but exciting world of the adults around him. “I know you want to stay up and see what the grown ups are doing but it’s okay to go to sleep, ad’ika. Rest. There will be plenty for you to learn tomorrow.”

As if this truly gives the child permission to fall asleep, his huge eyes slip closed and his breathing begins to deepen after a content little sigh escapes from his tiny mouth.

The adults bid each other a good night, and suddenly Din is completely alone on the Razor Crest with you. Well, alone save for the cat. It feels odd to be without the child, an awkward bashfulness he's not used to is rising in him. He feels a little nervous about what he wants to do next, but every instance when he has acted on an impulse with you thus far has been met favorably. So he decides to just go for it.

"I would like to speak to you about something," he says, knowing he sounds a little awkward.

You've begun pulling out the light clothing you like to sleep in from the compartment you took over all those months ago, but you turn to give him your full attention. "What's up?"

"I would like to understand you better," he says simply.

You grin a little, "How so?"

"If you truly will never return to Earth, then I would like to ensure that you do not forget about it. It is where you came from, and that has value. I know that a part of you does miss things about it. I do not want your home world to only be a place full of bad memories, and I feel that deep down you do not want that either."

Your grin widens as you cross the room to touch a hand to his chest plate, eyes casting upward. "I like how you say you want to understand me better, but you can read me better than anyone."

Din shrugs, "Not always. Tell me what a couple would do together on Earth if they were granted a night's respite from being foster parents. How does courtship work on your world?"

You grin as you mull this over for a long moment. "Well, it all depends on the couple. There are countless ways that romantic partners can enjoy time together on Earth, so it's really about what both people are interested in. We call the act of setting aside a special time just for the two of you a 'date'. Earth couples do all kinds of things together that may constitute a date. Walks, games, dancing. But one of the most common things is probably what we call dinner and a movie, which was always my personal favorite. Usually a couple will go out to eat somewhere nice and dress up to impress each other in their nicest clothes. Then they go to a movie theater to see whatever is out that they both would like to see."

Din nods in understanding. You told him once that the 'movie theater' was your favorite place to go on Earth. The place where you could slip away from your family's emotional abuse and escape into another world entirely for a few hours. He has only a vague understanding of what a place like that would be like, but he has a complete understanding of what it once meant to you.

"The ones you have on your personal device? Would they be sufficient for this?"

"Din Djarin, are you asking me out on a date?"

"If that is really what it is called, then yes. We've already had dinner, so I suppose we can skip to the movie part."

“Well, we are kind of limited in the selection. Back home I had hundreds of movies in my physical collection. I only have a small handful on that thing. I try not to watch them very often because it drains the battery, and I'm afraid I'll get sick of them too soon.”

“I would like for you to show me whichever one is your favorite of those options. We can get comfortable in the cot, if that sounds agreeable to you.”

“Ha,” you laugh a bit, “that's a no-brainier. I've got the perfect choice. But before we get started I'm going to have to explain a few Earth things just to catch you up to speed. Starting with a little place we like to call Ancient Egypt.”

Curled up in the cot with you pressed to his side, Din enjoys watching the tale of treasure-seeking adventurers uncovering ancient curses, while also uncovering a romance, far more than he'd realized was possible. After first it is a little difficult to understand but eventually he allows himself to get fully engrossed in the story playing on the small screen, even with the differences in speech and culture. It's easy enough to piece things together when he needs to, and the visible emotions of the characters are able to surpass any language barriers.

Afterwards he's full of questions.

“This Brendan Fraiser, he must be one of the most important- what did you call them? Actors? He must be very important.”

You chuckle, a fondness in your eyes as they meet his beneath the beskar. “He is to me and some other nerds who love his movies but unfortunately not as popular as you would think.”

“And how did they create that face in the sand? Was that real?”

“No, they used computers to create that. The technology is called CGI, or computer-generated imagery.”

“Interesting. It looked real. Odd that your culture uses computers for that and not more useful things,” Din says thoughtfully.

You scoff, “That's not the only thing we use computers for. But yes, we tend to use our technology for more frivolous endeavors. That doesn't mean that it's easy. I certainly don't have the skills for something like that. It takes a long time and a lot of people to make it look that good.”

“Very strange,” he muses.

The grin that spreads across the bottom half of your face is lovely as you say, “Well, Din Djarin, this was your first experience watching an Earth movie from beginning to end. I have to ask, what was your favorite part?”

“Mm,” he hums as he ponders, and then says almost bashfully, “I think my favorite part was the romance. I very much enjoyed watching the two characters fall in love. The way that they would look at each other with admiration was very believable. It... it reminded me of us.”

You can't help but grin lovingly at him, chest swelling. “That's my favorite part as well. I used to watch that movie as a little girl and yearn for a romance like that. I always wanted to go on an adventure and find the love of my life.”

“Do you feel like I am the love of your life?” He asks then, voice soft and hopeful in the modulated tone of his helmet. He finds himself wishing again that you could see his eyes again, see the sincerity there. Thoughts like that are worrisome if they do not go unchecked.

“I do,” you say honestly, “and this has certainly been an adventure.”

Din doesn't say more, simply nuzzling his beskar covered head into the side of your bare one.

“You know,” you say when a moment of silence goes by, “after a date it's usually customary to have sex.”

“Oh it is, is it?” Din's grin is hopefully obvious in his voice, a bare hand already snaking it's way up under the hem of your shirt.

*****

The handful of times you've had sex with your cosmic companion, you've never categorized what the two of you do together as making love. In fact, you're certain that you've never “made love” with anybody. The phrase always felt so corny on your tongue. It would make you cringe to hear it said in a film or read the phrase in a book. The concept seemed entirely fictional, like something sad women fantasize about in romance novels when in reality they have to go to bed each night with men who can barely make them cum let alone have emotionally compelling sex.

But on this night, you and Din make love in every imaginable sense of the phrase. Every touch is soft and deliberate, fueled by the pure emotion the two of you feel for one another. As if the connection between you is the realest it's ever been up to this point. It's pure bliss. Taking your time undressing one another, admiring each other's bodies as slowly as possible. He doesn't remove the helmet tonight, and it feels as if you're able to make eye contact with him even through the visor. Perhaps it's all in your head but each time your eyes meet the black T in the center of his metal clad face, you know you've locked eyes with him. The two of you move so carefully, treating each other's forms with the utmost respect.

With you on top and his nimble fingers playing with your clit, you're able to easily reach an orgasm in record time. Marveling at the realization that cumming with Din has become the easiest thing in the world. That woman from Earth who couldn't cum with a partner to save her life? Who's she? You don't know her anymore, that part of you is so distantly in the past.

His own orgasm arrives shortly after and you happily lap up the small puddle of him from his toned belly before your tongue trails all the way up his torso. Kissing and licking every salty ounce of tan skin that you have access to. As much as you long to kiss his lips, you find yourself pleased that he hasn't removed the helmet tonight. You get to actually look at his naked body in all it's glory for once, not just in passing. Usually you're blindfolded when he's this exposed.

“You have so many scars,” you muse, idly running a finger along a diagonal one that starts just below his right nipple, slanting down towards the center of his sternum. “You told me once that you have so many that you lose track, but that can't be true for all of them. Some must have a story.”

“They do,” he agrees softly, his own fingers lost in your hair. “Not all of them are stories I'd like to remember.”

“I guess that's fair. But I'd love to hear more about your past. What was your life really like before the kid and I came along?”

“Lonely,” he whispers.

“Always? There wasn't anyone?”

“I was a different man then, but there was someone a very long time ago. I was young and foolish.”

“So you have an ex you regret?”

“I do not understand the question.”

“An ex-girlfriend or lover? As in no longer a thing but once was? You said you hadn't slept with anyone in nearly ten years. Who was she? Or he?”

Din's head tilts up thoughtfully. “I suppose Xi'an counts as that, but I never loved Xi'an. Not in the way that I love you. I cared about her, but I couldn't be what she needed. She and I ran together on the same crew. We worked as hired guns, long before I was a bounty hunter. The things we did back then... I am not very proud of them. As I said, I was young and foolish. I was also very angry. Angry still for what happened to my family and my home world. I took out a lot of that anger on those jobs, and I enjoyed the pain I inflicted. It felt good to make others suffer because I had suffered. So with Xi'an it was a constant cycle of fighting, drinking, and fucking. There was plenty of lust, but never real love between us. When I decided that I'd finally had enough of that life, I left and she didn't take it well.”

“Wow, I was not expecting that. Thank you for sharing.”

“You're welcome,” he nods, gesturing towards his head. “My helmet was also a constant source of contention. She was offended that I would not take it off for her. She mocked my creed on a regular basis, and I did not take kindly to that after awhile.”

A small pang of jealous worry strikes your heart, but you push through it with hope that you're right about the answer to your next question. “So you never did the blindfold thing with her?”

Din looks at you sharply, causing a shiver to run the length of your spine as his voice becomes deadly serious. “Never. You are the only person I have ever done that with. What we have is different. You are the only woman I have ever called my cyar'ika. Ner cyare.”

Snuggling into him, your heart soars a little. You'd hoped that was the case, but until now it's never been brought up. “I don't ever want the helmet to be a source of contention for us. I would never mock your creed, Din. That's so cruel.”

Din releases a breath, sighing happily. “And that is why what we have is unique. I don't know why you respect my way of life so much, but I am thankful that you do.”

A shrug finds your shoulders. “I just think it's silly to shame others for being themselves. If this is how you choose to live and you do not force your way of thinking onto me, then I have no right to judge you or try to steer you away from it. This is part of what makes you you, and I cannot say that I love you if I do not love all of you.”

“I do not know what I've done to deserve you, but I thank whatever deity is listening that I have.”

His arms tighten around you, and soon after the two of you drift off to a peaceful sleep.

*****

“So I have to ask you, Mando. What are your intentions with my granddaughter?” Richard asks Din a few days later when the two of them are alone in Hangar 3-5. The women have taken the child into the town of Mos Eisley to pick up more food, and the men opted to stay behind.

“I'm not sure I understand.” Din says honestly, confused a little by his Earth phrasing.

“I know that she loves you a great deal, Mandalorian. I have never seen her like this before. She's happy with you. Happier than I think she's ever been.” Richard's voice grows incredibly serious, the old man regarding Din with piercing eyes. “I would like to know if you intend for things to remain that way.”

Din is taken aback by this sudden line of questioning, but he tries his best to answer honestly, “I cannot control her happiness. No one can or should control the will of another. But I do intend to be by her side for a long as she will have me. I will provide her with anything that is within my ability to do so. She means more to me than I believe I could describe.”

Richard mulls over this response, seeming pleased with it but not entirely. “What of marriage?”

Kriffing Hell, why is this at the forefront of everyone's minds as of late? “I believe it is too early for that,” Din offers, weary of where this is going.

“But have you considered it?”

Almost every day. “It is something I have contemplated, yes.”

“Well, what's holding you back?”

“As I said, I believe it to be too soon.”

Richard scoffs, “Oh nonsense. The two of you are more in love than I think I've ever seen before. People on Earth get married for far less.”

Din doesn't know how to respond to that at first, feeling both awkward at this sudden grilling and slightly defensive. “Mandalorians do not wed for far less,” he says with a pointed tone. “The bond of riduurok is sacred. Not meant to be taken lightly. She and I must arrive at that conclusion as partners if that is indeed the path our lives are to take. I love your granddaughter. She is a remarkable woman. I may not be ready to ask her that question now, but I would be honored if she were to accept my proposal when the time comes.”

Richard looks him up and down for a long moment before nodding once and holding out his hand. Din takes it as an offer of handshake so he reaches a gloved hand out to accept.

With a grin crawling out from his beard, the old man declares, “That was a test, and you passed.”

“Thank you, I think?” Din says, still half confused.

“You see, I wanted to make sure that she's traveling around with someone who respects her. Thank you for being good to her, and good for her. I've known that girl since the day she was born. She's had a lot of pain in her life and she doesn't need more if it can be helped.”

Din thinks over his next impulse for a moment, seeing an opportunity to ask Richard something that he hasn't felt comfortable bringing up to you. “Since we are already talking about this, I do have a few questions for you about the marriage customs of Earth.”

*****

“You are so good with him,” Peli says as the three of you are making your way back to Hangar 3-5, a droid rolling beside her carrying the food and supplies gathered at the market.

Currently, the kid in question is in your arms and you've been pretending he's a little starship as you mock flying him around in the air. Ever since Din did that with him back on Nevarro, it's become one of the kid's favorite things in the world. Bringing him in for a landing on your hip, you squint over to the older woman through the harsh rays of the binary suns. “I appreciate that,” you say softly, a sadness to your tone that doesn't go unnoticed.

“Have you tried to convince Mando to just keep him? Raise him as your own? The two of you could settle down somewhere and have a nice life with this little boy.” Peli sounds so genuine right now, which throws you off a little. Normally the woman is all quips, now she's speaking so freely of your heart's true desire.

“I'm not going to try and convince Mando of anything. He's aware of my feelings on the subject. I would become this child's mother right now if I had the option. But we agreed to see this through to the end, whatever that end that may be.” At your hip, the kid makes a noise that sounds sad, long ears casting downward. It's obvious that he understands everything that the adults are saying, and your heart sinks. “I'm sorry to talk about you like you're not here, buddy. This is just so complicated. I wish I could make it easier to understand.”

“That's right, tell your mama you want to stay with her and Mando, little fella.” Peli says with a wink down at the kid. “If they're going to leave the choice up to you, then you're going to have to chose one way or the other. What would make you happy, little one?”

The kid's ears perk back up, mouth opening as a little look of realization comes over his face. He says, “patu,” and reaches out for Peli. You hand him over, and she begins playing starship with him the way you had a minute ago.

“And believe me I am not just advocating for this so I can have a sweet little great-grandson like you, but it would definitely be a huge win for me.” She says, swooping him up and down with mouth noises to simulate torpedoes.

“Do you have any children?” You ask tentatively, aware that a subject like this can be touchy.

Peli stops walking all together, a sad look crossing her features. She keeps looking down at Green Bean, never once looking back up at you while she speaks. “I did. A son. He was a X-Wing pilot for the rebellion. I did all the upgrades and tune ups on that thing myself, but it didn't help much. He was lost in the war.”

“I'm sorry Peli. Truly,” your chest tightens, empathy for her loss overcoming you.

“I wasn't sure I'd ever feel alive again after he died. It got a little easier to live each cycle, but I never felt alive. I moved here and opened my hangar to try a fresh start. Then your grandfather stumbled into the cantina asking if anyone needed the work of a good engineer, and life found its way back into my bones after all. Still hurts every damn day, though.” She throws a mournful smile your way, handing the kid back to you. “So take my advice. If you love him, do everything in your power to keep him. And if that doesn't work, just make sure he knows how much you love him while you still have time together.”

“I will heed your advice as much as I can,” you say lamely, unsure of how to feel after such a heavy revelation about your new friend. You instead change focus to the fact that she had referred to herself as a possible great-grandmother to the kid, insinuating the seriousness of her relationship with your grandfather. “So I take it you and my grandfather are happy together?”

Peli's sad facial expression then morphs to one of joy, “I thank The Force every day for bringing us together.”

That answer is enough for you, nodding to the woman. “I am glad he finally found that with someone. My grandmother was not a very good wife to him.”

“She sounds like a real bitch if you ask me,” she laughs, sounding more like the woman you've gotten to know over the last couple of days. The kind of woman you wish had been your grandmother. You're happy to have her in the family now, even if it is unofficial.

You can't help but laugh as well, taking the child back from her. “You don't know the half of it, Peli. You don't know the half of it.”

Then as your own laugh dies down, you can hear the laughter of your two favorite men in this universe up ahead at Hangar 3-5. As your party makes way into the circular docking bay, you see the two of them tinkering with something over at one of the many work benches. Sparks are flying up around them, illuminating their figures with little cascades of dancing light. The golden colors bounce off of Din's armor and your grandfather's safety goggles, and when Din says something indistinguishable Richard claps a hand on his shoulder with another bout of uproarious laughter.

The sight of it fills your heart with so much love, but the emotion is so much more complicated than that. Seeing your family, all of it, together like this is something you never thought you'd get a chance to see. Family was so far removed from your life back on Earth. Here it's beginning to flourish in the way you'd always wished for. As Peli rushes over to greet Richard with a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of his ass (that part you could have seriously done without), Din looks over to you with a little wave and quickly covers up whatever he'd been working on with a sheet. Looking down at the child in your arms, you can't help but mull over Peli Motto's words of wisdom and hope that whatever comes next will ultimately work out for the best.

“I love you, Green Bean. I really would be your mama if you decide that's what you want, but it's your choice to make. I promise that I would never try to sway you. I'll love you no matter what path you choose. Always.”

*****

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

@jokesonthem | @somewereinthegalaxi | @missbabyjay | @leithatnight | @theyoutubedork | @luc-k-y | @orcasoul | @erissco

[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.

[kidhellion]

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

[setokaibapetty]

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."

[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

[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.

[the-mandawhor1an]

Choices and regrets

Chapter 11 – Guided by the stars, connected by the force

Masterlist

⇐ Previous chapter | Next chapter ⇒

Chapter summary: Having just reunited and Din having to deal with the heartache that came with giving Grogu away, the duo goes on their first bounty hunting trip. As expected, not everything will go smoothly, but no one could have prepared them for all the things that would go wrong on this fateful day.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Injury; character death (multiple); depictions of violence; Maia and Din being idiots; angst galore; a little religious trauma I guess; alcohol consumption; a lot of emotions in this one in general;

Words: 12.4k (Still haven’t learned how to shut up) 

A/N: Y’all get ready to cry right in the beginning of the fic. POV change in the middle of the fic, where we follow Din around for a while! Also, sorry this took a little longer, my life kind of fell apart in the middle of january. 

Maia found herself a little blinded by the sudden change of lighting. With her hand above her head and shielding her eyes, she waited for her vision to adapt and found herself in a familiar environment. A hangar? she asked herself, looking around to see a crashed shuttle and various TIE-Fighters still on their mounts. This was Gideon’s cruiser, but Luke’s ship was nowhere to be found. As were the Darktroopers, she expected to find parts of the droids lying around, but there was nothing. 

A deep feeling of dread overcame her when she realized what this probably meant. As quickly as her feet could carry her, she made her way up to the bridge, concerned why there were no Imps coming her way, as if the ship had been abandoned. When she entered the elevator to the bridge, she already smelled smoke and had to cover her face with part of her cloak. This didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. She was so sure she had been here before, and things had turned out a lot more pleasant than this. 

Up in the corridor leading through the blast doors, the smoke was so thick she could barely keep her eyes open. With the hand extended, she force-pushed the smoke away so she could see and breathe a little better. The sight that greeted her made her regret her action instantly. Corpses of the women that had accompanied Din were all across the floor, yet there was no sign of Gideon. Too stunned to move, she just stood in the doorway.

»… Maia?« a soft voice came from the corner to her left, and she very hesitantly turned her head. She barely recognized his voice, it was so weak. There he sat, propped up to the wall, a dead droid over his legs. His helmet was off and there was an alarming amount of blood on him, assuming it was his. His skin was a little pale, his breaths were shallow. »Din?« she walked over to him and knelt beside him. Tears welled in her eyes when she saw just how bad he looked. His skin looked a little waxy, his eyes glossy and his hair was stuck to his forehead. He must’ve fought for his life for so long. »What happened?« she asked him, one hand on his shoulder. 

»I thought you’d come to help us,« he stated and it felt like he put a blade right through her heart. How could he say that? »I don’t understand, I was here. I saw you all alive and well, and Grogu was taken in.« Where was the small one? »It doesn’t matter now,« Din coughed. »I’m so sorry.« What else would she say? He had needed her help and she wasn’t there for him. She had broken her promise and now he would die. She pulled her gloves off and felt for any source of blood on his flight suit, assuming she could still heal him. »It’s okay, mesh’la,« he said and extended a hand himself, cupping her cheek so she could nuzzle her face into it. Her tears obscured her vision and left dark stains on his leather gloves. 

»I had a fulfilled life and will die like any Mandalorian would hope to die. Protecting my foundling.« And while Din might’ve been right about it, it hurt to hear it. He knew his time had come, and that meant there was no time left for her. »Where is Grogu?« »With Gideon.« She cursed under her breath, another sting puncturing her heart when she felt Din’s hand fall from her cheek. »I promise I’ll rescue him,« she assured him. Maia had promised him on Tatooine and her loyalty towards this child hadn’t changed, neither her feelings for the man before her. 

»It’s not looking good for me, cyar’ika,« he stated and coughed another time, blood on his lips and a rustle coming from his lungs. »Please don’t say that,« she begged him in a whisper and closed her eyes. And while she initially tried to heal him by placing both hands on his chest, his hand pulling her from his armor made her stop. He took both of her hands into his and tried his hardest to focus on her green eyes. »It’s okay. Just make sure Grogu is saved.« His eyes also welled with tears. The rustle in his breathing became more apparent. Maia sobbed and nodded, unsure of how to deal with the situation any more. »I’ll find him. And I’ll make sure he has a master.« 

»I wish … we had… more time.« His breath became more labored and he had to take multiple breaks to form a sentence. She leaned forward and leaned her head against his, softly whispering »I’ll find you in our next life.« And as much as Maia wished to beg for him to not leave her, she knew this was inevitable. She sobbed quietly. »Grogu and I will be okay.« She kissed his temple when she felt his muscles relax as if she had just set him free. 

One day there will be nothing you can do. 

He will get hurt. 

This voice she suddenly heard while she was cuddled up against Din’s still warm skin sounded suspiciously like her own, so she turned her head to see where this was coming from. Only that she didn’t look back into the bridge on Gideon’s Imperial cruiser, she stared right into a metal wall. A – yet again – familiar wall. It looked to be the wall inside of the Razor Crest’s little makeshift bed, a bed she had not stayed in in a while. Din's corpse was gone, yet the warm and soothing scent of him lingered. Wiping off the remainder of tears and feeling generally a little disoriented, she climbed out of the small chamber and up the ladder. The sight of Din was welcome and relaxing, almost as if relief washed over her when she saw the Beskar helmet move towards her. »That was fast. Feel well-rested?« The tone of his voice sounded so distant, and he was short. While this was not necessarily unusual for him, something about all of this felt off. »I feel like I was ran over by a Batha, to be honest. Something feels weird right now.« »What does?« 

Why did he use as little words as possible? Why was he not coming over to her? She looked around, motioning into the air around her. »Everything does. My hands, my body, I have a headache, and even you behave oddly.« »Mh…« he grunted in response. »Jedi Intuition…« 

»Whats wrong with you,« Maia tilted her head, confused by his sudden distant nature. »What do you mean?« He should have known, and she should have realized what exactly made all of this feel odd. »You know what I mean, Din. Why are you –« She quieted down when he rose to his feet and came dangerously close to her. »What did you just call me?« he asked her, taking another step when she stepped back, until she was pinned against a wall. While this should have been an exciting situation, to be pinned against a wall by your partner, his behavior caused more concern than anything else. »Your name. Din.« And that’s when she realized. 

They were on the Crest. The Crest had been destroyed. What was going on here? 

»Who told you my name?« he leaned his hand against the wall just above her shoulder, leaning in further. »You did. I don’t understand what’s going on here.« She didn’t even feel his presence in the force any more. Panic was starting to settle in. »Makes two of us. Tell me who told you my name and don’t play any games. What else do you know?« His armor was against her chest, slowly limiting her ability to take a proper breath. »I’m not lying. You told me on Tatooine.« His helmet leaned to one side. »We’re on our way there. Try again. Last chance.« 

What was she supposed to say? What was wrong with her, she couldn’t even push him with the Force. »What am I supposed to tell you if you’re not going to believe me, You told–« her eyes widened when she suddenly felt something sharp in between her ribs. She looked down to see his hand at her torso, vibroblade in his fist, the blade stuck to the hilt inside of her. As she felt her life practically drain from her as her blood ran down her leg, all she could do was to stare into that black visor. »Why?« she asked as she sank to her knees. And she was gone. 

He will hurt you

She took the deepest breath when she felt the draft of air on her skin, her body coming alive once more. There were no memories of what had transpired before, only a dull flicker of images. She sat up and found herself back on Nevarro, the sulfur in the air was unmistakable. It seemed like Gideon had just made the blaster turret explode. And there he laid, still in his armor. Din. His body was contorted, as if the blast had impacted him a lot more severely than she had anticipated. 

They were alone. Karga, Dune, Grogu and even the Imps had left, it seemed. His body abandoned and her as well. She rose to her feet and walked over there, seeing his body twitch on occasion, hearing him wheeze under that helmet. She knelt beside him once more, one hand on his shoulder. Again she had to accept that she couldn’t do anything for him any more. Other than to release him of his pain. 

Tears welled in her eyes again. »I’m sorry they abandoned you, Mando.« Her voice was soft and she took his hand to place it on her thighs. »I’m sorry you’re in so much pain.« She saw the knife sparkle in the sunlight and she took it, suddenly the memory of being stabbed came back. He squeezed her thigh gently, but nothing more than a wheeze came out. It almost sounded like a plea. Him telling her to end his suffering. She took his hand into her free hand, squeezed it and had the knife in her other hand. 

She leaned in closer, his hand still on her legs. »It’s over soon. Please forgive me.« His helmet rolled to the side, offering his throat for her to ram his knife into. »I know you don’t know me; but believe me when I say it pains me to see you like this.« She bit her lower lip, closing her eyes and letting some tears run down her cheeks. »I’m a Jedi. I was looking for you and the child. I will take him in and make sure he’s safe.« She promised him and when she drove the knife into him, she heard one small wince and he was gone. Forever. At least he died thinking he had completed his task. 

You will hurt him. 

Suddenly she felt a tug on her shoulder and a voice, distorted and distant, but the next noise she heard was a loud thud. Maia opened her eyes and she was greeted with the neon light outside, at the same time the softness of the mattress underneath her. She was on Glavis, in the suite, where she had gone with Din. Din, who was currently on the ground, groaning and rubbing his lower back. In an instant she was at the edge of the bed. »I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw you. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?« The words practically stumbled out of her, worry in her face as she reached a hand over to help him up. »I’m okay,« he assured her and came back into bed. 

Maia scooted back to give him space. Din explained what had transgressed, why he had touched her quite roughly. »You had a nightmare, so I tried to wake you up.« »I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you,« Maia apologized again and slowly the images came back. Seeing him die, twice. Once again her eyes watered and she was close to crying. »Hey,« Din softly mumbled and cupped her cheek. »I’m fine. Do you want to talk?« All she could get out was »I saw you die,« until she sobbed and refused to go into more detail. Din pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her, nestling his face against hers. 

»Did I throw you out of bed?« »You did. I should have known this could happen. I’m fine.« One of her hands found its way into his hair and she turned her head just enough so that she would have been able to kiss him, but Din tilted his head simultaneously to kiss her temple. »I’m not used to sharing a bed,« she explained, a little embarrassed by it, but she didn’t have to be. She would get used to it; she wanted to get used to sleeping next to him. 

»Do you often get nightmares?« Din inquired, face still nestled in her hair. Maia sighed and kept her eyes closed, listening to his steady breath to calm herself. »Sometimes. I think everyone gets them occasionally. Usually I just wake up sooner, it must be the exhaustion.« Slowly the memories came back, especially the mysterious voice. Was it a warning? »Let’s just lie down. You need some sleep.« »So do you.« Another sigh escaped her lungs. »I know. I’ll try but I don’t want to have a nightmare again.« 

Din and her made themselves comfortable again, Maia nestled into his chest and her face buried in his shirt, registering the faintest scent of him in the fabric. Maybe she would just lie next to him for the night and rest without sleeping. But soon after Din had fallen asleep, so did she, this time around without nightmares plaguing her mind. 

The next morning came way too soon; accompanied by a blindingly bright artificial light. Maia found herself halfway on Din, her head and one hand on his chest, practically welded into his side. While she didn’t know if he had awoken by now, she let her fingers glide over the dark fabric of his shirt, feeling his warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest. »Hey,« he greeted her, his voice rumbling deep within his chest, vibrating against her finger tips and face. With a smile she turned her head towards him. His hair was a little disheveled, but he was so handsome, even more than he had been yesterday. He didn’t look as sad as he did then. It might take a while for them to get used to the new situation, but moments like this were so precious, so special. 

»We should get up,« he added with dread in his voice. None of them wanted to leave their little nest, their hideaway from the horrors of the universe. After a sigh Maia sat up, allowing him to rise himself. »I’ll miss this bed.« Maia crawled over and towards her clothes, putting on her pants first. Din did the same, but stretched before doing anything. Not wasting the opportunity, Maia snuck a peek and just so happened to see a little of his abdomen when his shirt rose up. The sight alone made her blush and turn away. Unbeknownst to her, Din did the same when she took her undershirt off to put her bra on underneath. He had seen her back before, but maybe the sight was a little more enticing now. »Believe me, I’ll miss this too,« he said, turning back to put his flight suit on. 

Maia was so occupied by the thought what his skin would feel like on hers, that his question didn’t even register at first. »Are you sure you want to go hunting with me?« When it had processed in her mind, she walked over to him and placed a hand on his cheek, stroking over the short stubble of his beard. His eyes fluttered shut when he leaned into her touch. She reminded him »I want to stay by your side, no matter what, no matter where. Nothing will happen to me.« His eyes reopened and met hears in an instant. With the bright light outside, she could make out the warm undertone in his eye color, almost like there was a fire hidden in the darkness, waiting to be found and appreciated by her. 

»I have to put the helmet back on,« he mumbled, but leaned in and gave her a kiss, as if it was a parting gift. Maia accepted this gladly, carefully parting her lips and gently biting into his lower lip. While Din could keep any noise from coming out of him, the blush on his cheeks was undeniable when Maia opened her eyes again, even if he quickly put the helmet on to hide himself. Did he realize how adorable she found it when he was overwhelmed with her little gestures? 

Maia’s plan was fairly straightforward regarding their first bounty hunt. »You walk, I follow. I’ll be your shadow for the time being and … try to not get myself in any trouble.« Din cleared his throat and nodded afterwards. »Let’s go.« A grin formed on her lips, pleased with his reaction to her little tease. They left the suite before the room service would come around, assuming this was probably handled by droids over here and she would have no chance at manipulating droids with the force. It hurt a little if Maia had to be honest, she would likely miss the comfort of this bed for eternity. 

The artificial sun was even brighter out on the street and Maia was a little jealous about his helmet right now. Din surely didn’t have to fight the pain the light was causing. »Have you ever seen anything like this?« he asked her and nodded upwards, where one could see the ring-like structure bend all the way around the light source. »No, never. I’ve been to spaceports; rarely. Seen way too many dark and dirty cargo holds, the shiny floors of the facility… but never a station as big as this.« »It’s my first time here, it’s exciting,« he told her while she watched the helmet move around. Wasn’t it a little weird to not be able to use your peripheral vision? Maia had to agree to an extent. »Impressive, but haunting at the same time. Gigantic, captivating, and anything but natural.« Maybe she sounded a little negative, she just didn’t like artificial environments like this. It was too reminiscent of the facility. 

»I agree.« She turned her head to him and saw the visor facing her as well. »How did you sleep?« she asked. It might take some time for them to find a guild on here. »Very comfortable. Had any more nightmares?« »Fortunately not. I’m not sure I dreamt at all,« she replied. Her sleep had mostly felt like meditation rather than sleep. She had listened to his breathing and felt his warmth, focusing on his presence to keep any dark thoughts away. It seemed to have helped. 

»Where are your weapons?« Din asked, and for a moment she wondered why he didn’t call the sabers by their name. But then again, he probably had a reason. »They’re behind my back underneath the cloak.« »Good, keep them there. I don’t want anyone to recognize them.« He didn’t want her to be recognized as a Jedi. Her specific sabers, no one would know them and therefore know her. Or at least, it was extremely unlikely. »Does the guild allow outsiders to just tag along?« she wondered. For the hunt they probably didn’t care, but most of the times the guilds operated under some guise, right? »It’s unlikely for hunters to team up and therefore split the reward but I doubt anyone will ask. People mind their business and none other.« Maia shrugged. It made sense that no one asked more questions than necessary. The guild leaders mostly cared about the jobs being done, the rest was in the hands of the hunters, right? 

»Aye, Mando,« a voice called out for them. A Trandoshian waved them over and they approached carefully. It was a little suspicious that the Alien spoke Basic, but then again, Maia was one to judge, apparently force-sensitive and Mandalorian which was a recipe for all kinds of conflict. »Lookin’ for’a job?« he slurred a little, was he perhaps drunk? Din nodded, suddenly back in bounty hunter mode and very quiet next to her. She would leave speaking up to him, he had been addressed by the alien anyway. The brunette watched as her partner leaned in a little more. »I’m looking for the guild.« Straight to the point, as usual. 

Now the alien leaned in a little closer. Maia saw Din’s hand slowly wander backwards. At first she thought he would maybe reach for a weapon, but he motioned her to get behind him a little more. »I know the guild,« he began, hiccuped and a sly grin appeared on his face, showing his short, pointy teeth. »My mem’ry’s a lil’ rusty sum’times.« Despite the sting it left in her chest, Maia silently watched as Din handed over what seemed to be the last of his credits. As much as she wanted to protest, or perhaps steal the money right back from the stranger, she didn’t want to cause a commotion out in the open in such a place. Besides, her partner most likely wouldn’t appreciate it. He was, for what she could say, an honest man. 

At least the alien hadn’t lied to them for their last money and a short walk later, they were in an elevator up to a club that housed the local guild. »Nervous?« Din asked when the elevator doors had closed and he knew they were alone for a little. »I’d say curious.« She was nervous, of course the was, last time they were in a sticky situation things had turned out all kinds of wrong. She risked her life, he got swallowed by a dragon, and in the end… well. The encounter with the bandits she would rather repress from her memory altogether. 

As soon as the elevator doors had opened, the strong scent of tobacco and food greeted them together with a slight fog. It made Maia’s eyes water a little and once again, she was a little jealous of the helmet. Did Din even register anything she could smell in the air here? They were transferred to another room right as they had entered, assuming her companion had been rightfully recognized as a bounty hunter. An Ishi Tib greeted them, in Basic nonetheless. For just a moment the brunette wondered if she was the only person in this galaxy that only knew one language. Maybe she should learn some, at least some phrases and words. There was one word she knew in Tusken Sign Language and that was it. 

The duo was offered a bounty and right away the outlook for more work if they returned successfully. They didn’t even have to leave the ring structure either, which definitely came to their aid. Otherwise Maia would have had to manipulate a few more people, they were officially out of funds unless she found a secret stash of credits in her ship. One district over, there was a Klatoonian that owed someone credits. If they managed to bring him in alive, they would get even more. It sounded easy enough in theory. Go there, locate him, bag him and take him back. Now, in practice it would most likely play out differently, but Maia hoped for their first contract to be somewhat easy. 

Once back in the elevator, she could finally catch a somewhat fresh breath and she sighed. »You have no idea how jealous I am of your helmet.« There was a chuckle underneath said helmet and and he shook his head, causing her to smirk. Hearing him laugh did something to her. It made her heart jump almost as much as kissing him did. Maybe she would some day have a helmet herself. Din might like it, who knew? 

They were out on the streets soon after, Din taking this moment to voice a concern of his. »I don’t want you to think I see you as incapable, but let me handle most of it. You’re new to this and I don't want you to be in danger.« »I can take–« »I know you can. I want you to be safe, regardless.« In a way, it was cute; reassuring. Din was aware she could handle a lot herself, she knew he knew. And still it was heartwarming that he wanted to protect her. It made her feel appreciated and in a way, even loved. She would do the same for him, too.

»Do you think we might stay here for longer?« Maia asked after some walking in silence. Perhaps it was because of the bed she wanted to share with him for a few more nights before they went to wherever their way would take them next. »Maybe,« Din replied, his helmet moving from one side to another, constantly checking the area. »There might be more bounties in the area, we could.« Apart from that, there was another quest they were on. Maia asked »and the Mandalorian hideout might be here, right? You mentioned it back on the cruiser.« »Yes, but I don’t know where they might be.« So there was a possibility they would stay and perhaps share a bed again. Din didn’t seem to have an issue with the sudden closeness. 

For a second she wondered if she should ask him, but then again, they were out in the open and he most likely wanted to keep most of their relationship private. And despite being over the moon about him accepting her in his life, she agreed that this was best kept between them. At least for now. 

They made it to the district and found a cold storage warehouse that seemed to be the last known location of their target. Maia watched a few people enter and exit the building through semi-transparent curtains. It sure looked like a cold warehouse, the walls were plastered with A/C units. »Is this it?« she asked and turned her head to Din, who was pushing some buttons on his vambrace. »It is. Stay behind me. I will try to get him alive but we might have to live with the smaller bounty if he doesn’t cooperate. Or if the others decide to attack us.« »The others? How many are in there?« He typed once more and turned his helmet more towards the entrance. »At least six in the front.« 

They entered the building, Maia behind Din as they had agreed upon, her hands under her cloak, one arm behind her to reach for her sabers just in case. The other workers, Klatoonians as well, kept to themselves for the time being, eyeing the guests for a moment before returning to their tasks. Through the room and into a back room, they found Kaba Baiz, the man they had been looking for. Naturally, Din tried to make him come with them willingly, which turned out to be a bad idea.  

Not only Baiz himself, but the workers inside the warehouse attacked them and Maia had to fend for herself, not able to watch Din at all times. Somewhere in this fight Din had used the Darksaber and as it had to happen, he injured himself quite severely with the dark blade. The rumble ended with Baiz missing one hand, the lavender blade of Maia’s lightsaber close to his throat. Din was agitated due to his injury and so was Maia, on top of being a little nauseous because she could smell burnt flesh. Her partner had a large burn on his thigh, which was bad, but all things considered a light wound for a lightsaber injury. 

»We can bring you in warm, or we can bring you in cold,« Din told Baiz, and Maia couldn’t deny that his threatening voice sounded quite attractive when it wasn’t aimed towards her. »Hold on, we – we can talk about this,« Baiz tried to reason. »I’ll pay you double.« 

Maia didn’t care too much about the money, besides, she knew Din wasn’t one to tarnish his reputation for a few credits. Also, how would he pay them double if this bounty was on him for not paying someone? »We don’t haggle with criminals,« Din said and put an end to that before it could start. »Fine, your loss,« Baiz responded and the tone in his voice sounded suspicious to say the least. As soon as Din had maneuvered the cuffed quarry out of the back room, Baiz pushed the Mandalorian to the ground and took off running. Before Maia could even get the idea to tend to her partner first, Din barked at her to follow the fugitive. Kill him if you have to.

Naturally, she blamed herself for all of this. She could have manipulated Baiz and he would've gladly accompanied them back to the bar. She could have healed Din’s wound, meaning he wouldn't have to limp around. She followed the alien outside and ran after him, making sure to not expose herself as force-sensitive with so many people around. He was surprisingly fast for someone in cuffs and missing a hand, but he just ran into everyone in his way and hoped for the best. She followed him around every corner, deeper into secluded alleys when a realization hit her. Her and Din were separated and she had no means to contact him. Desperately hoping this wouldn't turn out to be a trap, she continued her pursuit until Baiz found himself in a dead end.

»Please, girl, we can talk about this,« Baiz pleaded again, but why would he call her girl? How would that make her do anything he wanted her to do? She activated her saber and came closer, the low hum of the blade threatening him into desperation. »I’ll give you three times as much, be smart.« Din had told him already, she wouldn’t budge. Her thoughts raced around Din’s injury anyway, how painful his leg must’ve been in this moment and how he would manage to make it here. The fall had probably worsened his pain, too, and all of it was this Klatoonian’s fault. She wasn’t sure she would find her way back without any help, either. 

She swung her blade, but before it could make any contact and cause damage, she deactivated it and rammed her fist with the metal hilt inside of it into the quarry’s face as hard as she could, knocking the alien out cold. A sharp pain shot up her arm and she was sure she had either severely sprained or even broken her hand upon impact. Her gloves weren’t made for this kind of contact. The quarry fell face first into the dirt, and all she could do was sit on the unconscious’s back, waiting for Din to find her by miracle. 

While she held her hand with the other, she wondered if she could reach out for Din through the Force. Back when she first discovered him, he had likely felt some presence, how else would he have threatened her back then. Maybe, if she addressed him directly, he would feel something or maybe even hear her? 

Din? I have him 

Not long after that, she heard a familiar sound of steps coming her way. Din was still slow and probably in agony, but she let out a sigh of relief as soon as she had seen that helmet appear behind a corner. He was still limping and from her position she could get a proper look at his injured thigh. It looked grim, especially because it was just exposed to all of what surrounded them. The air back in the bar would probably burn his poor skin even more. »Good job,« he nodded approvingly and she felt a little pride in catching her first bounty. »We have to get him back to the guild, though. I think I have to drag him.« Instead of reacting to what he said, Maia stated »your leg looks awful. It would help if you weren’t limping.« She was trying to ease him into allowing her to heal him. But for some reason, he didn’t take the bait. »I’m sorry you had to pursue him alone. It wasn’t my original plan.« She sighed. »Nothing happened,« she said while getting up from the body, »besides you almost dismembering yourself. Lightsabers are dangerous weapons, especially in the wrong hands.« The irritation came partially from her throbbing hand, partially from her partner’s unwillingness to get help for his leg. Her words marinated for a second until her features softened. »I can teach you how to wield a saber. But until you know how to… please don’t use it. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.« Her first response had been a little harsh. She didn’t want to paint him as incapable, he just lacked training and a lightsaber was insanely dangerous in untrained hands. 

Din probably stared at her underneath his helmet. She might have hurts his pride a little, but deep down, his well-being was her concern. Why didn’t he just let her heal him? There was no reaction to what she said, just a rather closed off »let’s go.« Had she insulted him? Din wrapped a rope around Baiz and started dragging, while she walked next to him in silence, her thumb hooked into her belt so her hand wasn’t completely hanging loosely. It still hurt, but the pain was a welcome distraction from his behavior. He’s hurt, let him sulk. He might be an idiot but he is your idiot.

It was getting dark again and she wondered how long they had been on this hunt. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, 3 tops. Was the artificial sun just not built to have 50/50 day and night cycles up here? How long was a day here anyway? It probably made sense to have relatively long nights on a station like this, as there were so many hotels, bars, casinos, brothels, clubs. After what felt like hours of dragging a limp body, they reached the elevator again and she helped pushing the body in. Baiz groaned.  »You knocked him out cold,« Din finally said, a hint of appreciation in his voice. Had he cooled off a little? What if she wasn’t ready yet? I hit him so hard I broke my hand in the process, no wonder he’s asleep. Thank you.

During the elevator’s ascent, the Klatoonian slowly woke up. Din very harshly pulled him to his feet. If he was awake, he could walk himself. The doors opened once again and they were engulfed in the smoke of the bar. When they returned, none of the guests nor the guild master herself had moved from their spots. Another reason to think they hadn’t been gone for too long. »Ah, there you are,« the master greeted them, »And successful, it seems. I’m a little impressed you managed to get him alive, how magnificent.« She nodded her head towards yet another Ishi Tib, that subsequently handed Din a plump satchel of credits. It might not be enough for the suite, but they would be able to have some food, fuel for her ship, and a less luxurious bed. »I have another bounty if you’re interested,« she announced, but Din shook his head. 

»Not this time,« he apologized. Maia’s eyes darted down to his leg. Seeing the shine of his burnt skin made her dizzy. How was he doing anything right now? The pain must be unbearable, probably a million times worse than her hand. »You Mandalorians are hard to convince, it seems, a shame.« They were about to leave, but Din’s helmet turned back. »That makes it sound like I’m not the first Mandalorian you encounter.« »Perhaps,« she responded. So the other Mandalorians were here? The image of her parents flashed before her eyes and Maia essentially blew a fuse. Despite promising Din to hold back, as soon as he had limped past her, she addressed the guild master. 

»How can we get to the lower levels?« It just made sense they would hide under ground, just as they had done in Nevarro. Every other option up here was probably way too open for a hideout. Or would cost rent. She felt the Mandalorian halfway behind her stop and tense. »You must be new. Information has a price, child.« Maia crossed her arms in front of her chest. She never was a good negotiator, especially not when she was insulted. Girl, child, would they ever stop? »So does express delivery. It can’t have been more than a few hours.« The Ishi Tib let Maia marinate in the awkward silence, but seeing the human not budge, she started laughing. »What a smart girl you are,« she said, the sarcastic undertone was not missed. »Follow the Kolzoc alley until you reach the exhaust towers. You will find a hatch to access the substrata.« 

Maia thanked her and followed Din into the elevator, expecting him to blow up and chew her out. How much she would have welcomed any kind of emotion from him. She was seething, her breathing exaggerated and her shoulders as tense as his. »You really shouldn’t talk to guild masters like this. Their egos are insulted quickly.« And even in her current state, she heard the softness in his voice. He didn’t want it to sound like he was scolding her. It was concern and nothing else.

The tension in her shoulders melted with the realization and she sighed deeply. All of this boiled down to her frustration with Din getting injured and subsequently refusing her help. »Guess I can consider myself lucky that I’m so pathetic that no one would feel insulted,« she mumbled and held her hand. She saw Din’s helmet move in her peripheral. Maybe he hadn’t realized she had been injured as well until now. »You’re not pathetic, just new to the business. It happens. Still, you should be more careful next time. Not every master would laugh something like this off.« Her fingers were in a sensory limbo, somewhere between numb and feeling tingly as if she had laid on her arm wrong. She would need different gloves if she wanted to knock people out like this, there was just no padding softening the blow on her hands. That or she shouldn’t punch people with a metal handle in her hand next time. If only she could have an armor like Din had. She was a Mandalorian, so in theory she could wear one, or not? 

They left the elevator and she walked right alongside him, slowly as he was still limping. She bit her lower lip. Should she offer to heal him one last time? But then again Din knew she could and she would do it for him without any hesitation. Had she hurt his pride so much with the comment about the lightsaber? She didn’t know. If only she had a helmet on herself so she could let the frustration out a bit better. Her eyes traced along the spear on his back, made of Beskar, and a question popped up in her head. »What happened to the armor Vanth gave you?« Had he given the armor to another Mandalorian? It couldn’t have been destroyed when the Crest got blown up. Had it been melted and made into the weapon he now carried? All of her thoughts stopped when her partner just so matter-of-factly said »it’s back with its owner.« It stopped the brunette in her tracks, just standing in the alley for a few of his steps. 

»Boba Fett is alive?« Gideon had mentioned a Fett on his cruiser, but it could have been a coincidence. Now she had the confirmation that the bounty hunter was still alive? Din sighed and stopped himself, turned back to face her. »He is. He doesn’t know about you. I haven’t told him anything.« So they had talked? It stung, it felt like betrayal. Din had left her behind on Tatooine and just so happened to run into the man that had essentially doomed her for years? Maia didn’t even know what to be mad or hurt about any more. His injury, her injury, her own behavior back at the guild or the fact that Din just told her that Fett wasn’t dead like she had thought all this time. Not only that, Fett knew Din now, which meant he was once again dangerously close to her. Had he forgotten how she reacted to the armor alone? 

Something in her just snapped. »Oh how chivalrous of you to not tell him about me. He’d be so pleased to hear that it’s even more fun to hunt me now, my bounty is probably so much higher.«

Din took a half step back, probably a little shocked by her sudden outburst. Did he even understand why she was mad? »Would you have preferred if I had told him? He came to Tython right when Grogu was captured and my ship got destroyed. He helped me on Morak to get into that base to find where Gideon is. Without him I would have never been able to save Grogu… and reunite with you. You have your past with him, I understand, but there’s nothing negative I can say about him. He helped me.« Tears welled in her eyes. Din was right but she didn’t want to see it. »He made fun of me. Of my fear. Treated me like a toy, chased me until I had no energy left. Do you know what I had to go through because of him? What the Empire did to me after they had me back?« She sobbed, crying both from the pain and the anger she felt. »You might not have told him about me, but you should have told me he was still alive.«

Din’s stance on this was simple: »People change. If I can, so can he.« She closed her eyes and let the tears run along her cheeks. »But maybe I can’t. If you want to have secrets, so be it. It’s not like you’ve told me much about you anyway. To think I was fine with you keeping that helmet on, too.« Mentioning his helmet clearly was a mistake, as suddenly Din snapped back at her. »When was I supposed to tell you?!« And she realized she had taken this way too far when he said »maybe I should keep the helmet on from now on if you don’t care.« Suddenly she realized what she had said made it sound completely different from what she had wanted to convey, and rightfully so, Din was insulted. They couldn’t talk about this now, especially not in the open like this. And Maia did what she always did when she was feeling too many emotions. She would leave. 

She turned around. »Have your injury taken care of,« she said. It was what mattered to her the most. »Your people won’t allow me in their secret hideout anyway. They won’t care about my heritage. I’m a Jedi to them, an enemy.« She took a deep breath, her hands balled into fists despite the red-hot pain that radiated in her right hand. She turned her head to be just above her shoulder. »I’ll be at the ship. If you don’t return within the next day, I’ve understood the message. I won’t chase after my feelings any more and go back to Luke.« And she left him, she had to. She needed time for herself, for her hand and also to cry, to let all of the bottled up emotions out. 

She walked back to the landing platforms and looked for something to do to clear her mind of all of the disappointment and regret she felt – she cleaned her ship. Her cloak, belt and her sabers safely stored in her ship, she went to work. Her hand still hurt, but maybe the pain was a welcome distraction. 

Meanwhile, equally agitated from the brunette’s outburst, Din followed the little marks left by other Mandalorians to find the covert. Go back to Luke – did Maia want to be with the Jedi? Did she deliberately mention him to hurt Din? All of these thoughts drained his energy faster than he had realized, causing him to just drop at the end of the stairs leading him towards the armorer. 

Suspiciously, the woman had not yet turned around to face Djarin, but she ordered Paz Vizsla to tend to his wounds. The Mandalorian in navy blue armor had surprisingly soft words for him. »I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.« Din sat with his leg slightly bent, getting a first proper look at the injury. It looked cruel, his flesh red, shiny, charred bits of either his pants or of himself stuck to the wound. »Thank you for saving me on Nevarro, I’m sorry about your sacrifice,« he replied, just before he felt the uncomfortable cold of the Bacta spray on his skin, which soon worked its magic to heal his burn. »There are three of us now. We’ll put you to work soon enough,« Vizsla explained. 

The armorer hadn’t turned to him yet, and yet her question seemed suspiciously fitting. »What kind of weapon causes such a wound?« How did she know? As soon as Din had the saber in his hand, it was as if Vizsla’s whole demeanor changed. Carefully, the man carried the weapon over to the armorer, who received the saber and looked at the hilt. »All this talk of the empire, and they lasted less than thirty years. Mandalorians have existed for ten thousands. What do you know of this blade?« 

»I am told it’s the Darksaber.« Din told her, repeating what he had heard on Gideon’s cruiser. »Indeed. Do you understand its significance?« He nodded. »Whoever wields it can lead all of Mandalore.« As much Gideon had told him. The reason why Bo-Katan wanted to have the saber for herself, to support her claim for the throne. Din quite honestly didn’t care much for a throne. What he cared about, however, was returning to Maia as soon as he could to somehow save their relationship. If she was even still on Glavis. »If it is won in battle,« the armorer added. Djarin slowly rose to his feet, delighted to feel strength slowly return to his leg. »The hilt is of a quality of Beskar I have never seen before.« 

There was more that Kryze had told him. »I’ve been told it was forged by a man who was both Mandalorian and a Jedi.« His chest felt tight. Was Maia already on her way back to Skywalker, or was she waiting for him? The thought of her on her own out here wasn’t too calming either. She could take care of herself, she would have told him just now, but was it so bad that he worried for her regardless? »I have met Jedi. The child is in the hands of one of them now, I have been successful. And … I am with a woman who is both Jedi and Mandalorian.« He knew the question about his foundling would have come up either way, so he answered the question before the armorer had to ask it. »You may join our covert as we rebuild.« 

This is the way. »I have not heard of such a woman. Mandalorians rarely find Jedi children and keep them. They’re better raised in the hands of their own, as was the case with your foundling. Tell me about your companion while you set up the forge.« And while the two men carried the forge across the floor and started setting it up, Din told the armorer about Maia, deep down hoping she would still wait for him when he was done here. »Her parents are Mandalorians, but she was taken away at a young age due to her talents. She never got the Mandalorian training. When I gave Grogu away to be with his master, we found out her name. It’s Arana,« Din’s helmet turned to face Paz, thinking his brother might be a little curious about her too. »Arana Vizsla.« Were they related? 

This new information seemed to pique the armorer’s interest. »She was no foundling?« she asked, but Vizsla scoffed next to Djarin. Din glared at the other man underneath his helmet. »What does it matter, blood alone means nothing if she doesn’t follow the way.« Not too long ago, he would’ve agreed, but now so much had happened. So many emotions he had yet to understand, but he accepted her heritage, despite his own Creed telling him she wasn’t one of them. »Do you know what her parents’ names were?« the armorer inquired, but he couldn’t deliver much. »Her mother was called Rayssa.« That was all he knew. »I don’t remember any Vizslas that lost a child.« Expecting this would be it, Din’s heart sank a little. But then again, if Bo-Katan had known Maia’s mother and knew what her face had looked like – her parents were very likely not part of the Watch. 

»What’s your stance on Arana?« the armorer asked him while Paz attached all kinds of hoses for the gas that would fuel the forge. Din swallowed. He was sure the armorer didn’t care too much about their relationship or his feelings for his partner, but rather wanted to hear about her qualities. If she would be beneficial to the covert. »I’ve seen her fight like a Jedi, it was impressive,« he explained. And as much as he had been impressed with how easily she had made offing the Darktroopers look like, images of her smile flickered in his mind. When he had shown her the sunset on Tatooine, and the sparkle in her eyes when they sat by the campfire. How red her cheeks had gotten after they had kissed. He couldn’t help but smile a little. »She’s loyal and brave. Intelligent, but a little stubborn. Right now all she wants to know is if her family is still alive. My way might not be the best way for her.« It would be downright cruel to hide such a pretty face under a helmet. 

The armorer nodded and offered what she could. »She’s too old to be adopted like a foundling. That leaves you with two options. We treat her like an apostate and she has to cleanse in the living waters, or she becomes part of your clan by marriage. To be part of the community, she will have to swear by the Creed and wear a helmet, follow the same rules you have to.« The thought of Maia marrying him just to be accepted into his group felt wrong. She should be allowed to marry out of love, not because of some need for validation or acceptance. Besides, after their fight it was unclear if she even wanted to stay with him, let alone think about marriage. »I understand.«

The armorer left the men to tend to her forge, and as soon as she had her back turned, Paz approached Djarin. »Where did you come upon the Darksaber?« he asked, trying to make it sound casual, but failing. Din knew why he was so interested in this saber. Just like Gideon said: It was power. »I defeated Moff Gideon in combat.« »Did you kill him?« He should have, but then again, Grogu had been his main concern. »No. He was taken in by the New Republic for interrogation and a trial. He will face justice.« Vizsla scoffed. »Death would have been justice for his atrocities.« And the armorer agreed. »This is true. The blood of millions of our kind is on his hands.« »Then he will be executed for his crimes,« Din responded. 

»Where did you come upon the Beskar spear?« the armorer changed topic, nodding towards the weapon on Djarin’s back. »It was the gift of a Jedi. It can block lightsaber blades and it helped me defeat Moff Gideon.« Tano had practically saved him by gifting him this weapon. And he would be forever grateful, it was a demonstration of her gratitude and her trust after he had helped her free the village on Corvus. »I know it can pierce armor and puts us at risk.« 

Without any hesitation, he handed over the spear, offering it to the armorer to forge something for the community. »This is the way. The Darksaber is a far more noble weapon for you to wield.« »Can you forge armor out of the spear? For my foundling.« »Grogu is with his kind now and not allowed this kind of attachment. It goes against their Creed.« »I want to see him,« Din explained. It had been about 24 hours if even that, and he already missed the little troublemaker and he worried about his well-being. »Make sure he’s safe.« 

»In order to master the ways of the Force, Jedi must forgo all attachment.« Was this why Maia had told him she would leave, because they couldn’t be together? But why had she seemed so happy to be around him, and why had she kissed him and snuggled up to him while they slept? 

»That is the opposite of our Creed,« he said. Were they talking about Grogu any more, or was he now projecting this discussion onto this stupid fight he had with the brunette? »Loyalty and solidarity are the way. Mandalorians are stronger together.« Had she chosen to pursue her Mandalorian roots for him, perhaps? He would have to return to her as soon as possible, hoping she was still waiting for him. Their fight seemed so juvenile now that he had a clearer mind to think about it. The armorer forged the spear into armor for Grogu and also one more item. Maia might not be allowed to wear armor if he asked his people, but he wanted her to be able to have some Beskar with her. Even if it was just to remind her of her family and maybe of him. 

After his suit had been patched up, Din took the time to train his saber combat with the armorer. She had practically ordered him to, and with the memory of his injury still very fresh, he agreed he needed training. There he was, up on a walkway, the armorer counting his blows one by one. Sometimes she attacked, sometimes she blocked his attacks. But one thing became clear very quickly. The blade got increasingly heavy and made it practically unable for Din to swing it. He struggled and when he could barely raise the blade, the armorer commented, »you’re fighting against the blade.« »It gets heavier with each move,« Djarin explained. How did that even make sense? It was a weapon, how could he fight against it? »You should be fighting against your opponent, not the blade.« 

She used her tools to attack Din again and again, not allowing him to gain control over his weapon. She pressed the blade into his bracer. »Feel it. You are too weak to fight it. You can not control it with your strength. You are distracted.« »I am focused,« he insisted, but his mind was occupied with so much. He didn’t like feeling weak, it hurt his pride. And there was still this fight he had with Maia, and all he wanted to do was go back to her. But was she still here, waiting for him? Or had she left to be with Luke? The Jedi would surely not struggle as much with a blade like this, and he for sure wouldn’t have hurt himself like Djarin did. 

»Maybe the Darksaber belongs in someone else’s hands,« a voice came from the shadows, and to no one’s surprise, Vizsla stepped onto the walkway. Of course Paz had waited until Din was exhausted to challenge him. »Maybe,« he responded. Paz seemed to have a rather personal reason to want this saber. »It was forged by my ancestor, founder of house Vizsla.« Huh… so his blood mattered, but not Maia’s when it came to being a Mandalorian? »Blood doesn’t matter, those were your words.« Din would have handed the blade over to Bo-Katan, but the arrogance of his brother made him absolutely despise the idea of losing the blade to have it fall into these hands. »You may have won the blade in combat, but now I will take it from you.« 

»Din Djarin,« the armorer turned to him, still in between the men on the metal bridge. »Do you agree to this duel?« To which Din nodded without hesitation. »I do.« And they fought. Din struggled with the weight of the blade and also the sheer size difference to his opponent. Paz was easily a foot taller than him and the mass he could channel into a punch would knock Djarin over with ease. It looked bad when Vizsla lifted Djarin above him and threw him, knocking the blade out of his hands. And while he kicked Din against a pillar, he picked up the blade, activating it and seemingly struggling with the weight of the saber himself. »Fate has brought this blade back to my clan, and now fate will end yours.« And just when it seemed that Djarin’s luck had run out, he stabbed Paz’s leg to avoid decapitation. He used the short distraction and practically climbed on his brother’s back, his vibro blade just below Paz's helmet. »That’s enough,« the armorer finally called out. Din had won, but he feared one thing. One question. 

»Paz Vizsla, have you ever removed your helmet?« »No.« »Has it ever been removed by others?« »Never.« The armorer nodded. »This is the way.« Her helmet shifted so the visor faced him. Din’s heart sank. On one hand he could have lied to the armorer, but then again, she probably knew, or at least suspected, that he had taken the helmet off. Did she know, just like she had known his injury before she had turned around? »Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?« I have, again and again, for my foundling and my cyar’ika. »Have you removed your helmet? By Creed, you must vow,« the armorer repeated when he didn’t respond. »I have.« Din’s voice almost cracked. His heart was pounding. 

»Then you are a Mandalorian no more.« 

This was it? »I beg you for forgiveness. How can I atone?« he asked, desperate to do whatever he was asked to to be forgiven. He couldn’t avoid taking the helmet off on Morak. It was necessary to save his child. »According to the Creed, one may only be redeemed in the living waters beneath the mines of Mandalore,« the armorer explained to him once again. Knowing the mines were destroyed, he felt the ground collapse beneath him. He was no Mandalorian. He was no one. His clan was nonexistent. To make the blow a little harder, the last words Vizsla directed his way were »leave, apostate.« 

Was Maia even still here? How long had he been away? 

Maia had been working on her ship for as much as she could, to occupy her mind from this stupid fight she had with Din. When he came back, they would have to talk about this. If he came back. The brunette felt absolutely miserable after he had misunderstood what she wanted to tell him. She shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, and now all she could do was hope for her partner to come back to her. Her heart was aching, as was her hand. One she could take care of fairly quickly, the other would take some time, given she and Din could rekindle. 

If he actually left her here and this was it, she would never get over it. 

The thought alone drove tears to her eyes, a painful drag growing in her chest. Had she insulted him so severely that Din would now wait the day out so she would leave? She wiped her tears on her robe and occupied her mind with more work on her ship; until she felt some hunger. That was the other problem: Din had left her with none of the credits they had gotten from their bounty, she couldn’t get some food, nor something to drink or fuel to leave.  She would have to manipulate her way out of this, once more. 

Maybe it was fate, or just sheer luck, that a Rodian and a Zabrak approached her on the platform and were so adamant about getting her something to eat and share a few drinks. How could she say no when her stomach was growling? Maybe Din’s intuition would get him here quicker if she stayed with these men. So the pretty brunette sat with them, had some food and a drink. While they pulled out more and more alcohol, Maia decided it was for the best if she only had this one. Instead of telling them about being a force-sensitive bounty hunter apprentice, she pretended to be a mechanic, working for a bounty hunter, waiting for her boss to return from a job.

Maia had a lot of time to think about what had transgressed earlier today. There had been so many opportunities for things to turn out differently, and yet she had managed to make the worst possible outcome her reality. She had said things that were actually hurtful and as much as she didn’t mean them how he had picked them up, all of this just happened because he refused her help. Din should have allowed her to help, or at least tell her why he didn’t want her to help. Perhaps he didn’t want her to expose her abilities out in the open, but he could have said it. Had she more openly offered her help. 

It had been hours since she and Din split, hours since she told him it didn’t matter that he took the helmet off. Hours since she gave that stupid ultimatum. Had he abandoned her? Her thoughts raced around and the alcohol didn’t necessarily make it better, but the two men, telling jokes to get her to laugh, helped a little. In theory, she could have looked for him, focused her mind and find him in the Force, but if he didn’t want her any more, she didn’t feel like it was right to stalk him. She sighed internally, telling herself it wasn’t a day later yet, so maybe he would return. She needed to be patient.

At least none of the two aliens sitting beside her seemed to realize she was still on her second cup of alcohol, which she hadn’t even touched yet. She mostly pretended drunk, because being drunk was way too dangerous out here. She knew how to make herself blush, even if it was a little embarrassing. She thought about Din. About how they had kissed and how his arms felt around her. And that little glimpse of his belly. All the things she had felt when she had dreamed about Din and her being intimate. All of the noises that had engrained in her mind. 

»Here you are,« a familiar voice startled her. She had just pretended to absolutely lose it over a suggestive joke, when she heard the steps and soon after, his firmer than usual voice. Din finally returned, and he found her here, obviously drunk and having fun. Still pretending to be drunk, she turned on her stool to face him, giving him a warm smile. Maia knew she was blushing, partially because of her lewd thoughts, partially because she actually felt a little caught. »Hey boss,« she greeted him, making sure he would instantly register that she pretended to be someone else. »Ship’s all clean and ready to go when you are,« she explained and watched as his helmet tilted slightly. She gave him a once-over just as he did the same to her. His pants were fixed and he seemed to be in less pain. Just a bit tense in the shoulders, which maybe had to do with her sitting here with two strangers and laughing. The spear on his back was gone. 

»Well, it’s not recommended to let a Mandalorian wait,« she announced and stumbled off the stool. She saw Din twitch in her direction, ready to catch her if she actually fell. »Gentlemen, it was a pleasure.« The Zabrak took a breath, perhaps to protest, but it seemed Din’s presence alone made him reconsider. The Rodian had drunk a significant amount of Spotchka and just leaned on his arms, dreamily staring at the brunette. 

Maia turned to Din and her features softened a little. He had come back and she could apologize, hoping he didn’t just come here to say goodbye again. All she needed was some privacy with him. Privacy her ship couldn’t grant them, and she yearned for the Razor Crest to be back here. Instead of postponing their talk any further, she thought of a different solution. »Oh, I have to show you something for the ship. There’s this thingy…« She grabbed hold of his hand, relieved that he didn’t immediately pull back, and pulled him into one of the alleys that weren’t visible from the small shop she had just sat at with the aliens. They had their privacy … as best as they could right now. 

Din followed until they had reached the relatively dark corner, away from her two hosts and away from other curious glances. »Well then, wheres the thingy?« he sarcastically asked, letting go of her hand and crossing his arms in front of his chest. All of this screamed ‘don’t touch me’ to her, and Maia took a small step back. As soon as her brows scrunched together, he added »I … wasn’t sure you’d still be here.«

Despite his posture clearly telling her to keep her distance, she placed both hands on his bracers. »You were gone for so long, I thought I had chased you away.« Maybe he just came here to say farewell. Stop it. You know he wouldn’t behave like this if he wanted you to leave. »Listen, I said some terrible things to you earlier. I was frustrated that you got hurt and didn’t allow me to help you. You limped around with a burnt thigh for over an hour, probably even two, and you know I can heal you. Boba Fett is a trigger for me and I blew up in your face, I’m sorry. You’re right that there was no time to tell me. I didn’t ask you, I had a suspicion about him back when Gideon mentioned Fett. You didn’t deserve all of what I did to you today.« She took a big breath and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength. »About the helmet. I must’ve phrased it wrong, because I never wanted you to think it didn’t matter to me that you took it off. I’ve told you that it means a lot to me. What I wanted to say is that I wouldn’t have minded if you still had it on and kept it on. Being with you was what I wanted, even before I knew you had taken it off. I’m sorry, our communication needs work.« 

Din looked at her and didn’t move a muscle at first, listened to her explanations without interrupting her. As soon as she felt his arms move, she let go and as much as she didn’t want it to happen, the little alcohol in her system made it hard to hold back the tears. »Cyar’ika,« he softly said to her, cupping her cheek with one gloved hand. She closed her eyes when she felt the thick leather on her skin. She was so relieved that he still used that name for her. »I’m sorry too. Mandalorians are prideful and stubborn. Getting hurt in a fight is especially frustrating. I felt useless and having you chase after Baiz on your own wasn’t something I wanted to cast upon you.« She opened her eyes again, his glove wiping away a tear, just like it had happened in her nightmare. »I asked about your family. Unfortunately the armorer couldn’t tell me anything.« She nodded, softly as to not lose contact with his glove. »It’s okay,« she assured him. »It would’ve been too much of a coincidence. But why were you gone for so long?«

»They took care of my wound and I patched up my flight suit. While I was there I helped rebuild the forge, and trained with the Darksaber. It took some time and I can safely say, Jedi look more elegant than me when fighting.« It almost made her chuckle. »My offer still stands to train you. It takes time.« He sighed and his empty hand reached for his belt. »I had the spear remade into armor for Grogu and also this.« Maia looked down to his hand, extending one of hers so he could drop something into her palm. A small Beskar mudhorn, smaller than the one on his shoulder, but very obviously his clan symbol, laid in her hand. »It’s yours,« Din added when she held the little pendant up, closer to her face to inspect it. 

Maia understood this was a kind of connection to him, but then again, this could mean far more than she right now understood. »It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand, why are you giving me this?« It wasn’t that she didn’t like it. She wanted to know if this was more than a gift. 

»It’s Beskar, I wanted you to be able to carry some with you. I defeated a mudhorn in a fight. I almost lost, but Grogu helped me with his powers. The armorer declared us to be a clan until I found a Jedi for him. It connected us.« She kind of understood. It was a sign she belonged to him. This must mean they were okay and that fight was forgotten. She closed her fingers around the pendant and held it to her heart. »Thank you cyare.« Despite her positive reaction to the gift, his shoulders dropped. 

»I don’t have a clan any more. I took off the helmet and now I am an apostate.« His helmet followed the shoulders, dropping significantly. It was heartbreaking to hear, especially with the pained tone in his voice. She didn't even ask for permission, she just hugged him. It probably didn't feel like much with the armor between them, but she did it anyway. »I’m sorry, Din. Is there anything we can do?« 

He wrapped his arms around her after a few seconds and pulled her in, quite desperately held onto her firmly. They stayed like this for what felt like eternity, his helmet resting on her shoulder. She heard his breathing underneath the metal, felt every muscle he moved. And she stayed quiet, certain he just needed time to process all of this. »There is one thing I could do but it’s … impossible. Go to Mandalore and bathe in the living waters. The city above the mines was destroyed when the whole planet was bombed.« His helmet rotated towards her neck a little, as if he could hide his face further, or was he searching for her scent? »I don’t know where to go to next. Because they cast me out, there is no way for you to be accepted, either.« 

Her own status wasn’t a concern for Maia right now. All she wanted was for him to be okay. »Don’t worry about me. I’m right where I belong.« She kissed the side of his helmet, even if he couldn’t feel it nor see it. There wouldn’t be much for him to register besides the noise. »We should think about where to go from here. Maybe Tatooine is an option. Peli seems to always know someone who can help, maybe we can go from there.« And maybe they just needed some time off. Din needed time to grieve Grogu, too. He nodded after his helmet had risen from her shoulder. »Tatooine, then.«

She hugged him a little tighter one last time before she let go and put the pendant back into his belt pocket. She didn’t want to lose the precious gift, besides needing something to wear it, anyway. »I will get it when I have a chain for it. Do you want me to fly there?« »Please.« Maia nodded and they let go of one another. The blush on her cheeks had mostly left and her eyes had returned to their normal, beautiful state. She wondered if Din teared up underneath the helmet at all. He didn’t have to hide it from her. And as soon as they had left the small alley behind them, they left for Tatooine. 

[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

Drop me a message or comment if you would like to be tagged when new chapters get published.

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Next chapter in series - Chapter 19: First Light

[kenobiwanx]

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

[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.

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.

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