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prolix-yuy · 3 years ago

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Chapter 7: Come Fill To Me The Parting Glass

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A tense meeting. A race. An unexpected calm. A realization.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: T, canonical-type violence. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Cross-Posted on AO3

Good Company Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

By the time you stumble into the only hanger in Mos Eisley, your chest is burning and your legs feel boneless, your feet searing hot from the friction of running. You hadn’t tried to stop and find transport, too worried that the Imps would be close behind or that you would only be putting yourself in more danger. The pod kept up well, your fingers curled around a thin lip of metal to prevent it from skittering away from you. Your whole body is either numb or screaming with exhaustion, mouth lined with dust and sand as you look around for someone to help.

“Hey! We’re closed!” a loud female voice shouts across the hanger space. You stop, arm around the pod as a short frizzy-haired woman in a mechanic suit strides across the courtyard. Spindly saucer-shaped droids follow her, but you don’t see anyone else here.

“I don’t care what broke on your speeder or your pod racer or whatever piece of junk you like, I’m not fixing it!” She’s got a pipe wrench in her hand and the weakness in your legs makes taking a step back simple, easy.

(sitting down would be even nicer)

As the woman gets closer to make out who’s in her space, her eyes land on the pod. She stops, body stiffening as her gaze slides from the pod to your panting face.

“Where did you get that?” Her voice is low and dangerous. The grip on the wrench is more purposeful now, the droids fanning out to flank. They’re just service droids but you can feel the tables turning on you.

“Mando. Got in trouble. Lively Bantha. I work there. Told me to bring him to you.” You croak out, your breath tearing across your vocal chords. “Peli Motto?”

Peli snorts and raises the wrench at you.

“Likely story. Mando barely lets that kid out of his sight, and he’d let you run through the streets at night with him?” She’s advancing on you and there are so many ways this could go poorly. You force yourself to step away from the pod and raise your hands.

“Mando’s an old friend. Turned up at my bar and I met the kid.” Peli’s eyes stay on you as she opens the pod and looks in.

“Well hi there little womp rat, did you miss Auntie?” she coos, removing him from the silver shell. He warbles at Peli and lets himself be taken into her arms easily.

“All right, tell me something about Mando you wouldn’t know if you were a bounty.”

(shit)

You could count the things you know about him on one hand - maybe even on only a few fingers (like his clever fingers) - and you were supposed to prove yourself to this woman? Your body sags and you run a hand over your face. You can feel the grit of dirt scraping stripes down your brow and cheeks.

“Not like he tells anyone much of anything,” you grouse. Peli regards you for a moment, looks down at the child who is watching you with a smile and raising one claw towards you (poor fella’s been banged around in a tin can and he’s still in good spirits?) and sighs.

“Yeah, that sounds like Mando all right.” She rubs the child’s ears a little roughly, “and this little guy does seem to know you, so I’m gonna take your word for it.” You slump down in the dirt at her admission, flopping onto your back too hard but needing to relieve the pressure on your feet and knees.

Peli’s face, a halo of brown hair blocking out the stars and a furrowed brow, eclipses the sky above you.

“Looks like you could use a drink.”

Din Djarin slips through the night like a ghost, nothing more than the swish of his cape to signal that he passes. He’s keeping low, blaster in hand waiting for glimpses of white to round the corner and take him.

He managed to draw fire as you escaped with the child through the cantina kitchen. Training his eyes on the Imps and lifting up to his full height, he steeled himself to not follow immediately. He needed to give you time to run and for him to rip his anger and frustration into the people chasing him.

He thought he was being careful, thought after Moff Gideon he had gotten the Imperial remnants off his back, but here he was filling the floor with bodies. The kid still wasn’t safe. Din feared he may never be, not until he was with a Jedi.

And not with Din.

His mind dodged the prickly pain of that idea, narrowing in on removing the threat and leaving. The Imps weren’t the smartest group, continuously filing in through one entry to be mowed down. They didn’t even have a special forces crew to bring heavier firepower. They underestimated Din Djarin, and the grimace on his face was his only prize for keeping his clan of two safe.

He will not think about becoming a clan of one.

Din peered out from behind the bar and it seemed that the onslaught had stopped. He allowed the adrenaline of the firefight to calm just enough that he could coordinate his body and make a plan.

He sent you to Peli. That was…good and bad. Bad if you led anyone to his ship, but good if you got there with the kid. Maybe a little bad for you if Peli decides you’re a threat.

That realization thrust Din out of the kitchen back door and onto the street. The air was quiet after so much fire, and all of the windows were shut around the cantina. Locals know how to avoid conflict best, and come next morning none of them will mention the ruckus heard in the night.

Din keeps to the darkest shadows, slinking into the alleyway that holds the speeder. He curses under his breath; the Imps ripped the guts out of it, now just a useless pile of parts. He sets off on foot instead, strafing between buildings and keeping to walls and quiet streets. He doesn’t hear incoming transports, but it’s still a decent run to Peli’s hanger.

Clicking a setting on his helmet, footprints appear. They are scuffed and widely spaced, but efficient in their path. Din smirks to himself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. You would beat him there if you kept up your pace, but Din wouldn’t be far behind. He hoped the kid could vouch for you with Peli, that he didn’t enter the hanger and find you with a blaster bolt between the eyes as thanks for your help.

His chest twinges and Din chalks it up to all the exertion and not to worry. He just needed to run, and run fast, and then fly even faster.

You sit in a cluttered storage area with a hot cup of caf between your hands. Peli made a new pot once you scraped yourself off the ground and hobbled into the hanger. She offered something stronger to go in it but you refused, unsure of how your body would handle it. The droids look at you curiously but keep their distance. Their glowing single eyes make up a constellation of lights along the edge of your vision.

“So an old friend gets caught up in Mando’s shit,” Peli says, swinging a stool around and plopping down on it. The kid is munching away on some meat jerky Peli brought out of a desk drawer, looking over at you as he drools onto the dried strip. You’re sure you’re hungry but the caf and the fear has soured your stomach to anything more substantial. You sip at it more out of politeness and a desire for warmth as the night air licks at your frame.

“Sounds like you have some experience,” you quip back. You’re still wary of Peli, but she’s making the kid smile and clearly knows more about Mando than you.

(not like that’s hard, you only know…some very specific things about Mando)

“Well a guy can only drag his ship into your place of work so many times before you start learning something about him.” Peli shifts the kid to her other knee as he finishes the jerky and starts squirming. “I know little guy, your dad’ll be back soon.” Peli looks back up at you, her face more serious now. “You said Imps?”

You nod, holding the caf close to you. “Lots. Maybe a small squadron. He was still shooting when I got out with…” and you nod towards the child.

“Can’t believe Mando let you take the womp rat,” she says, taking both of the child’s ears and lifting them up and down like a puppeteer. The kid makes a squinched-up face and tries to bat her hands away. “Bad?” she adds quietly.

“Bad,” you agree, your jaw tensing. You don’t feel that cold, but your whole body has begun to tremble.

“If Mando doesn’t…” you pause as Peli takes both of the kid’s claws into her hands and makes them lift and dance to a song she’s humming, “...will you take the child?”

“Well he’d make a nice attraction. A credit to see the bogwing boy!” Peli lifts the child’s arms up into the air and he starts to make small upset noises. She lets his arms down and he reaches for you.

(what?)

You stare at him dumbfounded. Kids didn’t like you. They liked when you performed for them or gave them the things they wanted. But they never wanted you. They never sought you out for comfort.

Peli doesn’t even ask, just grumbles and sets the child on your lap. You put the cup of caf on the workbench next to you. He’s light and a little top-heavy, making your hands go up instinctively to balance him. The fabric of his robe is rough but folds nicely around your hands. He stops fussing but still has a worried little wrinkle in his brow, his ears hanging low.

“Maker no, I can’t have him around here.” Peli sighs. “The kid’s fun in small doses, but I had him for a day and that was plenty.”

“Then what…” you stammer, eyes darting from the child to Peli. She gets up and waves a hand at you.

“Mando always comes back. He’s the king of getting into - and out of - bad situations. He’ll come strolling in that entry any minute now, grab the kid and be on his way.”

You take in a few slow breaths and watch the child in your lap. Mando will come back. He would never just give you the child to care for. He barely knows you. Barely trusts you, if the way he advanced on you, blaster primed, had anything to show.

The child is watching you with strangely empathetic eyes. He chirps a little, his legs and arms wiggling in your lap as he pulls himself closer to you. You place a hand on his back (he’s so much smaller) and rub him gently as Peli leaves you in the alcove.

“Gotta put the droids to sleep mode, don’t wander off!” she shouts over her shoulder. The warmth of the child against your belly and the weariness of your body catches up to you. You want to lay down and sleep, your eyelids pulling hard against your brows trying to force them open. The child trills into the fabric of your shirt and you run a tentative finger down the back of his head.

“Good baby. Good little baby. Your dad will be back soon.”

Din rounds a corner and his knees and back scream. He’s been stalking through the night, quiet and deadly, and his body is so tight it’s painful. He has to be close, he can see the roof of the hanger cresting above smaller houses. Just a little further and he’ll be at the ship and into hyperspace with you and the child…

Wait.

Din’s feet falter, but he’s so close he keeps pushing himself to the hanger door.

Did he just plan to leave with you?

Beneath the helmet Din’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wouldn’t want to leave.

But you’ve been seen, it’s dangerous for you to be here.

Everyone who saw you is dead.

But there will be more, and they’ll try the last place their squadron went before radio silence.

So you go work somewhere else. They’re not looking for you.

But Din…wants to keep you close. The feeling is a familiar itch, one he succumbed to when he followed you from the cantina to the small inn under cover of night. Telling himself he just wanted to be sure you got somewhere safe, and then when that didn’t work chalking it up to wanting to bury his frustrations in your body. It scratched at a place between his shoulder blades now, the desire to protect, shield, hide, keep…

But…you were scared of him now. He knew it, he saw it. The girl he held in the darkness a decade ago wasn’t afraid of him. Her eyes were so open and trusting. She saw something in him more than bounty hunting - valor, maybe. Strength. Skill - she said as much after she stopped trying to count how many times he brought her pleasure. Maybe even kindness.

Was he capable of kindness back then?

But he’d fucked it all up. Anger and deadly training brought war into that girls’ life. Your life. You were remarkably more capable than he expected, disarming the first Imp to give him time with the other two. It made pride and possessiveness rise up in his throat, baring his teeth behind his helmet. But then he got mad at the Imp, put a deadly bolt into its head, and turned and saw you with the pod, blood pounding in his ears.

And he scared you. He stupidly kept his blaster drawn and shouted and scared you, and he would never be able to take that moment back. No matter how you rebounded, took the responsibility of his child’s safety into your hands and, if he walks in and sees you there, how well you succeeded, he still made you look at him like he was dangerous.

Because he is.

And he doesn’t deserve the kindness you’re showing him.

The kid does. He thinks you’ll tell yourself it was for the kid, not the Mandalorian, when you look back on this night.

But Din Djarin does not deserve to have your kindness and he will not subject you to further danger, including himself. He’s the monster you warn children about - be good or a Mando bounty hunter will take you away - and no amount of penance will change the fact that you should run from him.

He strides into Peli’s hanger, head swiveling for signs of you or the child. The Razor Crest sits like a hulking buzzard in the dirt, hanger door closed. There’s a light in Peli’s comms station and another in an alcove close to the Crest.

He makes his way to the alcove first. Maybe it’s intuition or the child’s odd wizard powers that drives him there, but when he bursts into the doorway he’s greeted with relief.

You are sitting on a stool, your back pressed against a workbench with a cup of caf near your elbow. There is a small bundle of brown and green in your lap, and you’ve woven your arms around it. One hand is gently stroking the back of the child’s wrinkly green head, the strands of white fuzz bending beneath your fingers. Your head is bowed, and at first Din thinks you’re watching the child but it becomes clearer that you’re fighting to keep them open.

Din thanks the stars, the Maker, the waters of Mandalore that you both made it here safe. You brought his child to safety. You’re coated in dust and sweat and exhaustion, but you’re still cradling the kid, keeping him safe until Din returns. Din feels the wetness of tears in the corners of his eyes as he tries to get a hold of himself before waking you. The rush of emotion is sudden and distressing for him, and he wants to scrub them away before they overtake him.

You aren’t a mechanic, or a medic, or a warrior, though you’ve displayed the heart of one this evening. Not a caretaker, or a cook, that’s reducing you down into so much less than how he sees you. You are a light shining brighter than the stars he and the child travel among.

Din watches you hovering on the edge of sleep and remembers the last time he did the same. You were curled up under the blanket, him sitting watch on the inn floor. You reached out a hand and rested it on his shoulder, your fingers relaxed and gentle. You said his name, a question on your lips, then nothing more. Just your touch on his shoulder, more intimate than any way you’d touched him that night, as you slipped into sleep.

Din waited until your breathing sank into a heavy, slow cadence before turning to look at you. The moonlight had traveled through the evening and now sliced across the top half of the room. It bathed the outline of your shoulder and hip in light, painting a stripe of cool silver across your cheek. The canvas for your expressions was smooth and relaxed, lips parted and eyelashes fanned out against your skin. He told himself this was only one night, another conquest to be filed with the others on his path to glory. That he only cared for you as much as he could care for anyone he slept with. That his careful observation of your lips, your neck, your face was professional and not because he wanted to lift his helmet just enough to put his mouth on yours.

That’s why he needed to forget you. Because you were the first person he ever wanted to violate his Creed for, and the notion of it being that easy terrified him. He was a Mandalorian, strong and steadfast, upholding the Way to his dying breath, and the shame that burned in his cheeks while he thought of tasting your skin branded him. He had to forget.

And for many years that had worked, his only connections being the covert and the few people he needed to get credits. But then he let the kid in, grew his clan to two, and every day it feels like more of his exterior is flaking off like paint from beskar. It would have mortified him years ago to feel this much vulnerability about a little green child and a girl from a cantina, but instead he feels a renewed purpose seep into his bones.

This is what makes him break every resolve he just vowed trudging through the dust with a word:

“Mesh’la.”

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#din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x female reader #mando/reader #mando/f!reader #mando/you #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #prolix fics #i think of you series

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

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Solus - Rogue, Chapter 1| Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader(F)

Summary: So I don’t want to give too much away, but a rough outline - You are Force Sensitive, and after being hunted your whole life, you’re not surprised to find another Mandalorian on your tail. What you didn’t expect, was THIS Mandalorian. Nor anything that happen’s after. And so begins a journey of two Rogues (three if you count the womp rat).

Warnings: Not many in this chapter as it’s an opening but, mentions of death, angst?, swearing, fighting, my rusty writing after I haven’t done it in years, let me know if there’s anything else!!

AN: So, I think this might be a little messy in terms of tenses. It jumps around from the past to present a little too, so I’m sorry if its confusing… Let me know what you think!! And if you want to be added to the taglist!

Word count: Just over 4k.

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo

Mando’a translation: Solus - Alone

Alone.

That word had come to change its meaning over the years. When you were a small child, alone meant you were outside, playing in the grass and flowers with your parents just a few metres away indoors, within sight of you still. Close enough to come running should anything happen to you. Including that time you got stung by a bee and screamed so loudly the neighbours thought you were being raided.

A few years later, alone meant being shut away inside your room, windows closed, door firmly shut.

“It’s for your own safety, honey, you know what will happen… We don’t want this for you, we hate this, but we must keep you safe, my darling.”

You understood, of course. It was your own fault; you didn’t mean for it to happen… But just because you understood, it didn’t mean you had to like it.

A year on, alone changed properly for the first time.

The true meaning of the word hit you like a speeder when you were kneeling in the mess on the dusty ground.

Blood had soaked your knees, staining your tunic. It had coated your hands, your arms as you frantically shook the shoulders of your mother, willing her to open her eyes, to sit up and hold you. To stroke your hair and tell you it was okay, it was all just a bad dream. To take you home, where you could forget this whole thing.

It didn’t truly sink in until you heard your fathers strangled scream as he ran around the corner…

And then the sickening hiss and sizzle as the blaster hit him square in the chest. The way he tried to crawl across the ground to you and your mother, but there was a heavy white boot planted firmly in his back, a gloved hand yanking his head up and a vibroblade sliced across his throat.

His blood had coated your own bare feet as you ran to him.

You were only 12.

From that moment on… you were truly alone. No family. No more friends, they had all left when you showed them your power. Such a beautiful, natural thing, being in line with the Earth, the energy that connected all living things. It was rare, meant to be celebrated…

Instead, it just bought death upon those you loved.

So, as you ran from the horror scene within the market square, your parents blood baking onto your skin in the hot sun, you buried it. Deep inside, locking it in a box, surrounding it in darkness and keeping it hidden.

And that’s where it had stayed for the last 20 years.

~~~

Sorgan was a good place to be for a little while.

The air was breathable, the forests thick and lush, providing good cover, and the inhabitants were spread few and far between. It was quiet, the only habitable planet in its system, in fact, so it was… safe?

Well. That’s what you had told yourself when you made the split decision to come here after somehow managing to stow away on a ship that just happened to be going there.

You’d just been attacked by a Trandoshan bounty hunter, chased halfway across the planet you were on and forced to dump most of the belongings you’d managed to acquire for yourself in an effort to get away. The green lizard humanoid was… beyond eager. Hunting was their way of life, they thrived on the ritual of it and this one was no different. He was relentless. Constantly tasting the air for your scent with that disgusting flickering tongue. He’d even licked your neck once and you thought you might throw up all over his weird, scaly body.

It had gone on for more than a week before you decided to try and get the jump on him. You laid a trap, using his eagerness against him and it had worked…. Mostly. You fought, hard, managed to sever his arm and you were just going in for the kill when out of nowhere the tables turned. Knocking away your weapons, he’d pinned you to the ground, a wickedly sharp blade pushing into your shoulder and scraping bone.

He took one look at you, battered, exhausted, blood soaking your shoulder and burst out laughing, preening in glee that he’d finally caught you, finally managed to capture the girl everyone wanted (you hadn’t bothered to ask if he was employed by the Republic or the Imperials. At this point, it didn’t matter anymore).

What he failed to notice in his gloating, was the vibroblade you pulled from the sheath on your thigh. One moment, he was laughing, the next, his head was thudding onto the ground next to your own, mouth still open in glee, reptilian tongue lolling out.

The next hour or so had been a blur, making your way through the town again, cloak pulled up over your head and over your shoulder to hide the wound. You’d managed to steal cloth and a tincture from a street vendor, binding and cleaning the knife wound whilst hiding in a small alley. It was there that you saw the ship, only a small cargo ship, the door left open. You’d slipped in like a ghost, settling between some crates of unidentifiable objects and let yourself slump, adrenaline leaving your body, leaving it shattered and full of pain. Too close. You’d almost been caught and taken back Maker knows where. Luckily you had that blade, one you’d stolen from an Imp a couple years back after he’d tried to capture you.

As you hid in the cargo hold, you heard the co-pilot ask about the turquoise planet.

“Sorgan? Why Sorgan? That place is beyond boring. I’m surprised the people living there haven’t started a war just for something to do.”

The pilot had laughed, “You’re right there. Barely anyone comes out here anymore. Most people don’t even remember it’s here.”

That suited you just fine then. A mostly empty planet with a krill-fishing village that kept to itself, swamps and forests… hey, maybe you’d finally get a chance to relax.

Since then, you’d found a little place in the forest, up high in some clustered branches, near a source of running water. It was high enough to stay out of the way of predators, but close enough to the ground that you’d be able to spot any enemies – and get away quickly.

You’d even made a friend here.

Well… sort of.

Your first night on the planet, you were trekking through the forests when your legs had just… given out. You were spent, mentally and physically, blood pooling through your fingers from the knife wound which had since opened up again. As you lay there, staring through the canopy, you decided that maybe this was it now. Maybe it was time to give up the fight.

You had been running for so long, it was a way of life now. Had more injuries than you could count and been hunted by twice as many people. Hunters and mercenaries of all species and origin, IG-11 droids, the occasional Imp or New Republic official, even a Mandalorian once – that one had been bad. You’d had to give in after you killed him and go to a hospital, he’d left a blaster hole in your thigh so deep you could see bone.

It was quiet here, peaceful, you remembered. The treetops had begun to blur and swoop under you as you came to your decision.

I’m sorry, mumma, I’m sorry, papa. I tried, but I can’t do it anymore.

You had closed your eyes, giving into the darkness with a final goodbye and letting it wash over you like a tidal wave.

Only to be woken up what felt like seconds later by a wet nose and furry face pushing against your hand. Lifting your head, you’d blinked away the blurriness to find a rounded, big eared head resting on your hand. A Loth cat. It appeared that you’d gotten yourself a little friend.

Since then, she hadn’t left your side, following you everywhere, climbing up the trees and curling up on your lap of a night. You weren’t sure what had drawn her to you, but… it was the first companion you’d had in such a long time, and her warm body against yours was such a comforting feeling that you couldn’t bear to part with her.

That was a few weeks ago.

Nothing had happened in those few weeks. No fighting, no threats, no beeping of tracking fobs waking you in the night and sending you hurtling for the trees.

Nothing but trees, swamps and your furry little friend that you’d called Duru, after a childhood friend.

The only thing bothering you at this point, was your arm. You’d managed to smuggle some herbs from an apothecary hut in the fishing village, but it wasn’t healing properly. The wound had sealed, but it ached. Insistently. Some days it wasn’t too bad, but most of the time, it caused you enough grief that you struggled to grip anything. It was just lucky it was your non-dominant side.

A small groan left your lips as you rubbed at the skin around the wound, perched on a low branch, watching the village. The string of your bow dug into it, sending small shockwaves down your nerves and making your hand spasm. You shifted the bowstring, curling your hand into a fist and releasing it again to get some feeling back into it, an absent action as you just watched the day-to-day life of the village.

It soothed you in a way, just watching people go about their daily lives, how each person had a part to play. Even though you hadn’t met any of them and doubted they knew you were there, you liked and respected them nonetheless. So, whenever you snuck into the village for supplies, you always left something in return. Prey you’d shot down in the forest for food, herbs you’d gathered, fish you’d caught. Just a small way to say thank you to the for keeping you safe, even if they didn’t know it.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sat there for, eyes closed, one leg dangling from the branch and just enjoying the sunlight on your face, the cool and faintly briny breeze when Duru suddenly shot to her feet, a low growl rumbling from her throat. Your eyes snapped open in an instant, bow drawn and pointing into the forest, ignoring the lick of pain as your shoulder protested.

You scanned the branches, the ground below but… nothing. There was no-one there, but Duru was still staring, eyes fixed on something you couldn’t see. You huffed, leaning back against the trunk. She probably just saw a bird or a bug or something.

Still, you remained on edge for the rest of the afternoon, your hand flying to the hilt of your knife at every little crack of branches or whisper through the trees.

It took you a long time to sleep that night, but your body eventually gave in and fell into a somewhat fitful slumber, hand still resting on your bow just in case.

---

Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Bee-

Within seconds, your eyes shot open and you were bolt upright. You knew that noise.

Instinct took over and you grabbed Duru, urging her still sleepy body onto your shoulders as you scrambled down the tree trunk… only to fall the last metre because of your shoulder.

Stifling the cry of pain, you shot back to your feet and took off running, in the opposite direction of that noise.

You’d been too relaxed, let your guard slip down too much here. You should have left the second Duru went on alert last night. Of course, her instincts were so much better than yours, but you ignored it. Like a fucking fool.

The curses kept slipping from your lips as you ran, not daring to see who was behind you just yet. Maybe you’d get lucky, maybe it was just a normal hunter, looking for a big job, not realising the countless that came before him or her. Or it.

You almost laughed to yourself as you zig-zagged through the trees, feet flying over the undergrowth.Maker, you had to get off this planet, it was making you too lax.

The predator’s presence was like a dark cloud behind you, slipping through the trees, lapping at your heels every time you thought you had gotten away. Trees and branches whipped past your face, stinging but you didn’t have time to brush them away. You didn’t even have time to turn your bow and shoot an arrow, the hunter was just that close. Your brain worked frantically, seeking for a way out, an escape, a distraction, anything.

Wait.

A distraction.

You cursed yourself again, drawing in a ragged gasp of air into your aching lungs as you fumbled at your belt. You had a small flash grenade in a pouch on your belt. You used to have three, you’d had them for years and only used them for dire situations. Like this one, you just need a distraction, even for just a few seconds to get up into a tree.

Duru dug her claws into your shoulders for grip – ow, claws - as you activated the grenade and threw it over your bad shoulder without even turning around. The hunter was so close behind you, you knew it would work no matter where you aimed.

As the grenade exploded into light, you shielded both your eyes and Duru’s with the hood of your cloak, putting on a burst of speed and adrenaline and you bolted for a tree to your left, practically flying up into the canopy. Without hesitation, you began to make your way through the trees, almost sobbing with relief to the Maker that the branches intersect and cross over so that you can make your way across them.

After about 10 minutes of moving through the air, you stopped, hunkering down against the trunk of a huge willow tree as you tried to haul air into your lungs, whilst staying quiet. The pain in your shoulder nearly brought tears to your eyes, the ache in your chest but you stayed still, breathing in through your nose slowly, then out through your mouth, massaging the stitch in your side.

Was the hunter still all that way back? Was he looking for you on the ground? Maybe he was in the trees too, opposite you, watching and waiting to-

“You can’t hide from me.”

The voice came from below and somewhere to the right, a few metres away. On the ground then. The voice sounded male, a little distorted, but that may have just been the roaring of blood in your ears.

You barely breathed, scanning your surrounds and slowly rising to a crouch on the branch, calming your body into a hunters pace of your own. Slow, even movements, balancing your weight as you crept around the tree to a branch on the other side.

Even Duru was silent, hunkering around your neck, her head barely peeping out of your cloak.

“You might have evaded all the others, but you can’t run. Not from me.”

Typical. You rolled your eyes as you slipped along the branches like a phantom. Another hunter thinking he’d get the glory because he captured you. The faint call of fear in your blood quietened as you realised he was just like the others.

Let him gloat, you thought. He could be dispatched as easy as the ugly reptile last time. And his tongue.

You kept your ears pricked as you eased over to the next tree, but you couldn’t hear him. Obviously trying to get the jump on you. You let out a silent laugh as you reached the adjoining tree and began to descend.

“I can bring you in warm. Or I can bring you in cold.”

You froze, going rigid, praying the leaves would hide you as one foot dangled in the air. He was right underneath you.

You dared a glance down, finally looking at your current attacker and…

Nearly fell from the tree.

Standing on the ground below you, pulse rifle pointed at you was a tall figure. Decked out in beskar armour so shiny you could have done your hair in it, the infamous helmet covering his face, tilted in an almost casual, cocky expression.

A Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian.

You’d heard whispers of this one. That beskar armour, more than any other Mandalorian has ever laid their hands on, paid for by the collection of a high-stakes bounty. A bounty which he stole back, from the hands of The Client and Stormtrooper bodyguards, breaking Guild code and going on the run. Wanted by The Galactic Empire, The Guild, and countless others, he became a rogue, travelling the Outer Rim with his little green child in tow, completing jobs and missions for normal people, all the while being hunted himself by Moff Gideon. He was relentless, one of the best, not hesitating to kill if someone threatened him or the Child.

Someone obviously wants you very, very badly, to call upon a wanted man to track you down.

And he obviously wants to bring you in just as much, to take the risk of this hunt. You briefly wonder just how much he’s being offered.

Fuck. You’re really screwed now, aren’t you?

All of this flashed through your mind in an instant, as your arm shook with the pull of your body weight on the wound. You made as if to move, put suddenly he’s there before you’ve even let your foot drop, a gloved hand grabbing the bottom of your cloak and yanking you to the ground with a thud. Duru made a yowl of protest, springing off your shoulder and into the trees, which you were relieved about because at least she’d be safe.

Twisting to avoid putting weight on your bad shoulder, you bared your teeth at him in a grin, “I bet you use that line on all the ladies, don’t you?”

Really?? This man, this Mandalorian was going to either kill or take you, and you were trying to flirt with him??

Shaking your head at yourself, you rose to your feet, grabbing your bow, thankful you spent 4 years saving the credits for it. It was made of a strong but flexible metal, perfectly shaped for your height, as familiar to you as your own arm. Its edges were razor sharp, a knifes edge. You spun, swinging it toward him and it lightly clanged as it met the armour on his forearm, the vibration skittering down your arm.

The Mandalorian lifted his other hand, a knife in it that he guided toward your side, “Only the ones that have a bigger bounty than I’ve ever seen on their head.”

You quickly jumped back, but not before he caught you, cutting through the fabric of your tunic and opening a small cut just under your ribs. “Ooh, now we’re onto flattery so soon? Careful, Mandalorian, I’d think you were trying to woo me, not kill me.” You flung out with your bow again, only to have him grab it, yanking it out of your grip and throwing it to the side.

Mandalorian made a faint noise, whether it was disgust or exasperation you didn’t know, “You talk too much” He came at you again, a flurry of fists and kicks that were almost too quick for you, making you realise that you weren’t just fighting some cocky hunter.

This was possibly the most dangerous Mandalorian out there, save for Boba Fett. He wasn’t going to let this go. You were a good fighter, excellent, even, but as you both danced a routine of attack and defence across the clearing, you realised… you just might not walk away from this.

You panted, ducking under his arm as he swung for you. Maybe… maybe you could go and seek help in the village, you could hide in a hut or a boat, beg them to take you in.

It was like he read your mind, seeing what you were planning to do, “Really? You’d lead me into the villages? Haven’t enough people died for you already?” His voice was like a rasp as it come out through the modulator, cutting straight through the clarity of the fight and into your heart, making you pause.

How did he know that? Your parents were common knowledge within the hunters of course, nearly everyone knew, but everyone else, those that tried to hide you…

~“Run!!! Y/N, run. Don’t look back, whatever you see, whatever you hear you must promise me you will not look back.”~

A hard impact to your jaw made you stumble backwards, dragging yourself back to the present. Asshole. He’d distracted you. “You’re talking to me about death? How many have you killed, Mandalorian?” You kicked out at his knee, your boot connected just under the plate that covered his thigh and he partially went down.

The Mandalorian grunted as he rose back to his feet, “I’ve killed, yes. But criminals. Murderers. People who deserve it. I haven’t killed innocent people.” He came for you again, fists up and his blaster out this time

You couldn’t help the shocked laugh as you avoided his advances, slashing out with another small knife, grinning when it found home in his shoulder, “You haven’t? What about all the Jedi your little clan murdered?” You spat out the word clan, punching him hard, ignoring the protest your knuckles made at the impact of the beskar. “You didn’t understand a people, so your first instinct was to slaughter them like animals.”

You could almost feel the frown behind the T-visor of his helmet, “That was before me, I was never a part of the war. And why do you care about the Jedi?”

~“Mumma!! I’m not leaving you!! I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, this is my fault, I shouldn’t have done anything, I’m sorry!!”

“Shhh, shhh, my darling. It’s alright. They just don’t understand you, that’s all. Which is why you have to run, you must go and find your father and be safe, please.”

“There she is!!! Over there! Kill anyone that tries to protect her”~

You hesitated, lost in memories of the past, explosions, screaming and blood. So much blood…

He shot out a grappling line from his vambrace and it wrapped around your ankle and he pulled you off balance and to the ground, again. Weapons made specifically to combat Jedi, people with the same abilities as you, reminding you just how hunted you were. He rose to his feet, walking over to you, “I don’t know why they want you. I don’t know what you’ve done. I don’t care. I just know that you’re a criminal, you’re wanted, and the price on your head is nearly as big as mine.”

You snarled at him, reaching for your vibrobrade and pulling it from your thigh.

He just sighed, kicking it from your hand with one foot easily and at the same time he jammed the end of his rifle against your shoulder, already having marked it as a weakness.

A howl of rage and pain ripped through your gritted teeth, and the edges of your vision started to go black. It was broken by the helmet coming into your eyesight, the moon bouncing off the surface, “Give in. You can’t win. Even if you beat me, more and more people will just keep coming after you.” His voice had turned to honey on a knife edge, persuasive. Wrong.

Right.

You shook your head, as if trying to shake off his words, deny the truth of it even as tears started to burn the back of your eyes. You arched your back from the floor, trying to get up, trying to shift his knee off of you but he was like a damn rock on you, pinning you to the floor. “Fuck off, you’re just as heartless as the rest of them.”

Your power cried out to be used, begged form that place buried deep within you, but you pushed it down. You wouldn’t, couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed, lifting your head and opening your mouth to scream.

Only for his hand to wrap around your throat, his fingers lightly pushing against you. It wasn’t enough to strangle you, or cut off your air supply, but the squeeze of his fingers was enough to warn you that he would do it if you tried to alert the villagers. The Mandalorian leaned down, close enough that you could see your reflection in the black visor. More honey dripped from that voice, worming into your head, your defences.

“More people will die for you. And I don’t think you want that. I won’t touch those villagers, but anyone after me might not be so lenient.” He tilted that stupid helmet, merely watching you struggle with another light squeeze around your throat, another slight prod into your shoulder.

~Explosions lit up the market, local people screaming and running for cover as spices and fruit flew through the air. You choked, searching through the smoke, until your bare feet landed in something warm and wet. Blood.~

As you glared up into the unrelenting metal, you caught your own reflections eyes. Bruised. Battered, snarling. A danger to anyone you came near. How many people had died because of you? Either directly or indirectly? All because you kept running. Maybe you just didn’t deserve it. Deserved to live freely. And hell, you were so tired. 20 years on the run, more if you count the years with your parents. Always having to look over your shoulder, never being able to completely trust another living person. The closest thing you’ve had to a friend in the last 5 years is a Loth cat, and even she left.

It was time to just… give in.

~“Mumma? Mumma wake up, please wake up. You have to, you have to get up, please mumma, PLEASE!!”~

You couldn’t do it anymore.

I’m sorry.

The Mandalorian saw the defeat in your eyes, the way your body slumped into the ground, your muscles relaxed. As a tear rolled down your cheek, you took one last glance at the stars, so you didn’t see him hesitate for just a second before using the shock of his rifle to knock you into darkness.

Next chapter

#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #Pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x you #Pedro Pascal x reader #star wars

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halalgirlmeg · 2 years ago

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I feel like between the reviews on Can Resist Her by Kianna Alexander and How to Find A Princess by Alyssa Cole people just hate Black Lesbians and Bisexuals

I been in a slump for MONTHS do you hear me then I read Can't Resist Her and I'm blushing and giggling like a fool and How to Find A Princess I'm like waking up like time to read some more!

But all the reviews is oh its badly written its so slow womp womp womp oh Colleen Hoover fan #373848 go back to reading shit that sucks and leave the reviews to the girls with the taste okay. Thank you

#anyways good morning to the Black Lesbians and Bisexuals #random

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mandoclan · 4 years ago

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COURAGE // Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x F!Reader

A/N: I just really love Din, and this is possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever written. This is my take on a “5 times Din realized he loved me and the one time he did something about it.” Set about two months after saving the kid (middle of season 1). In my mind, it took over a year for Din to return Grogu to his kind.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and blood and a wound (you get shot), major fluff, conflicting feelings, marriage talk.

The first time Din realized he loved you, he froze. The sight of you with the sleeping kid strapped to your chest while you asked a trader in the market questions about your cooking arrangements on the Razor Crest warmed him. He overheard you asking about ingredients and cooking methods and snacks for the kid and even for him and his heart almost burst.

“Thank the maker for this helmet,” Din muttered as he watched you. He’d just settled the bill with another trader for some extra blankets and clothing for you, knowing you’d been nicking his tunics when you thought he wasn’t looking. He knew you didn’t have much from the planet he picked you up on, and hoped this would be helpful even if he couldn’t deny that the sight of you in his well-worn clothes was something he could get used to.

“Mando!” You called, breaking him from his concentration. “Are you ready to go? I got the supplies you asked for, but they’re a bit heavy and I don’t want to squash him.” You gestured to the kid, asleep and drooling on your shirt. You didn’t seem to mind though, and Mando found himself smiling at the sight, fingers gently rubbing the kid’s big, green ears. He babbled a bit in his sleep and you smiled down at his adopted son.

“I’ll grab the crate. Meet me back on the ship, okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you!” you pressed a kiss to his helmet where his cheek should be and walked away, murmuring to the kid as you did.

“Your dad’s gonna get the big heavy crate and then you can have some cookies later, you silly little womp rat. Your buir spoils you.”

He couldn’t deny it, he loved when you spoke mando’a, or at least the few words he’d taught you. Din shook his head, his cheeks heated as he picked up the crate and followed along behind you.

The second time Din realized he loved you, he smiled.

He’d been on a hunt for three days, one of his quarries giving him more trouble than he had expected. He’d come back to the ship to find you’d cleaned everything, put the kid to sleep, and even made up his sleeping area. He suspected you’d been cooking too, judging by the smell.

He’d caught a whiff of it when he came in, but hadn’t expected to find a plate with the food still hot up in the cockpit. You were up there as well, trying to put the silver ball the kid always liked stealing back on the controls.

“I made you a plate.” You smiled at him once you noticed him standing behind you, flustered as you tried replacing the ball. It wouldn’t attach, and Din placed his hand on yours to still you. You moved your hand.

“Sorry,” you stuttered, not making eye contact, “he took it again. I wanted to have it back on before you came up here.”

“It’s okay. He can keep it.” Din gave the ball back, and you smiled nervously. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” you murmured, heading towards the hatch. “Don’t let your food get cold.”

Once you’d left the room, he locked the hatch door and removed his helmet. Din had originally planned to move on to Nevarro immediately to hand over his bounties, but the food was enticing and won him over. After all, you’d said not to let it get cold and it smelled amazing after the ration bars he’d been eating on his hunt.

He took a bite and was a goner. “Maker, I don’t know what I did to deserve her.”

The third time Din realized he loved you, he hid.

He’d been coming back inside from cleaning his blasters to find you in one of his shirts again, singing softly to the kid.

Din didn’t recognize the song, it being in your mother tongue and not in the basic you usually spoke, but it was nice coming from your lips. From the look of things, the kid liked it too as he cooed up at you, his clawed fingers reaching for your cheeks.

You smiled down at the kid in between lines of the lullaby and he laughed when you tickled his little sides.

Din stayed where he was by the blast doors, just watching you both interact. He was struck with the thought that if this was family, his aliit, he wanted to keep it forever. But did you feel the same?

He frowned at himself, disappointed in his lack of courage. You placed the now sleeping kid in his hammock above Din’s bed and murmured goodnight before closing the door.

Din kept himself hidden outside until after you’d climbed up to the cockpit before replacing his weaponry in the hold. He didn’t want to interrupt you before, but now he missed your warm presence. He sighed, wishing he’d been able to hold you as you sang.

The fourth time Din realized he loved you, he sat there in disbelief.

He looked at his spare tunics and pants, then at one of his capes, and then his spare duraweave flight suit. All of them had previously been riddled with hastily sewn up holes (Din had never been very good at sewing). But now—now they were fixed. In fact, you could hardly tell they’d been damaged at all (except for that one cape he’d worn with a particularly nasty bounty who’d ripped huge holes in the cape. That one, you’d put patches in).

“Cyare!” Din called from where he stood at the edge of his quarters.

“Yes, Mando?” you looked up from your cooking to see him staring over at you. You didn’t know what the word meant, the name he kept calling you, but you figured it probably meant nanny or mechanic. After all, isn’t that what you were.

“Did you fix my clothes?” he asked pointedly as he lifted his cloak.

You smiled down at the soup you had simmering down on the stove range and nodded, not making anymore eye contact with the helmet’s dark visor.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Din smiled under his helmet, but you shrugged.

“I didn’t want you to get sick from all the holes in your clothing. You should really be more careful, big guy. We need you here.”

Din didn’t know what to say, but he managed a curt nod and attached the cape to his shoulders.

“I’m going out,” Din told you and you looked up at him once more. “I should be back in a few hours, but I’ll use the comm link if something goes wrong.”

“Be safe.” you murmured as he disappeared down the ramp. You didn’t realize how much he loved those words.

The fifth time Din realized he loved you, he was holding his hand to a nasty wound on your thigh and cursing in Mando’a.

“Mando, please.” You whimpered in pain. It hurt like hell, but it burned at the same time.

“Hold on, cyare, it’s going to be okay.” He worked swiftly to stop the bleeding and sprayed some of his emergency bacta spray on the sizzling wound.

Din blamed himself completely. You’d asked to go to the pond near the landing zone for the Razor Crest before he’d set out for the new bounty so you could wash the clothes you’d all been wearing for weeks. His quarry was supposed to be peaceful, whatever the species, but it hadn’t been. It knew he was coming and it aimed for the both of you. In the process of you turning to shield his son from being hit, you caught a nasty blaster shot to the thigh.

“Just a little more.” He said, removing his fingers from the spot and holding you closer as the spray started to heal your leg. You cried out, struggling against his beskar. He knew from experience that the wound didn’t really hurt anymore, but the healing was uncomfortable.

“I’m almost done. You’re going to be okay, cyar’ika. You’re okay.” he said just loud enough to be heard with the vocoder as he shushed you.

The pain and desperation you’d been dealing with to keep the child safe had exhausted you, and Din soon realized you’d slumped unconscious against him. He sighed, struggling slightly to pick you up and set you in his quarters instead of your own. If you asked when you woke up, he’d just argue that his bed was closer.

While he blamed himself for your pain, he was overcome with how much he loved you. You would willingly have sacrificed your life for his foundling, and you were injured in the process, but maker did he love you. You were protective and so caring, and you’d won him over.

Din watched you sleeping for a moment, fingertips brushing your sweaty hair from your face. He sighed, wishing he had the courage to tell you how he felt. You didn’t even know his name, despite you traveling together for an entire cycle by now. Din closed his quarters’ door and stepped away, knowing if he spent any more time there that he might be willing to do anything for you, including giving up everything he knows. What would that feel like?

Two days later, you watched Din as he moved about the ship in hyperspace. He hadn’t said a word to you since you’d been shot, and you feared the worst. You were afraid he saw you as a nuisance now, not having been able to take care of keeping the child safe as well as yourself even though the kid was fine and you’d been the one who’d gotten hurt. Did he want you to leave?

“Mando,” you asked nervously, waiting for him to even acknowledge you.

He hesitated before answering. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you? You haven’t spoken to me since, well—“ You cut yourself off and twiddled your fingers in your lap, unsure of his response. You heard a crackling through the vocoder and looked up to see him walking closer to where you sat on a few supply crates in the hold.

“It’s my fault,” he started, “that you got hurt. It’s my fault. You’re my—“ He stopped just as suddenly as he’d started.

“Your what, Mando?” you asked softly. He stood beside you, taking your hands in his gloved ones.

“Gar ner aliit.” He answered finally. “You’re my family, my clan. I love you.”

“Really?” you gasped, tears brimming your eyes. He shocked you with this confession, but in a very good way.

“I would never lie to you, mesh’la. I love you. The way you have cared for me and my foundling, and chosen me over and over again has won me over, cyar’ika.”

“Oh Mando—“

“Din. My name, it’s Din Djarin. You should know it.”

“You have a beautiful name.” Your voice was quiet as you continued, “All those things you said I do, I do it because I love you. I care for no one else in this whole galaxy more than I care for you.”

Din brought his helmeted head down to lean against your forehead in a keldabe kiss. Your eyes closed briefly and he brought your hands up to where his mouth would be beneath the beskar.

“If you would have me, I intend to make you my riduur, my wife.” Din said, the vocoder catching on his words. “And when I do, I will bare all for you as you have already bared my soul.”

Your voice shook as you breathed out a “yes” and surged up to hug him. He wasn’t expecting the movement and nearly stumbled from the force of it, but he smiled beneath his helmet and laughed happily. He would always be grateful for the courage he had to bare his soul to you and for you to take it and keep it safe inside your heart.

Taglist: @bestintheparsec @softpedropascal @sanchosammy @scribbledghost @clan-djarin

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandolorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian #fluff #baby yoga #grogu #Star Wars #mandoclan #mandoclan writes

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fanfoolishness · 4 years ago

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the wheeling stars, amidst the dark (The Mandalorian)

(Peli Motto’s glad to see one of her favorite customers, until she realizes he’s come alone. Peli + Din friendship, set after The Rescue. A study on grief, friendship, sorrow and hope. 5368 words.)

***

Winter on Tatooine was Peli’s favorite season, a time when the fierce desert heat gave up a little of its cruelty. There was less sweating through her jumpsuit; not no sweating, of course, just less. Water prices were better, and smugglers preferred to visit more often when the suns weren’t baking the sands below. More people, more ships in need of repair, more work. It was a good time of year.

She was at a lull today, though. Nothing to worry about. Happened now and then. She passed the time setting the droids on maintenance duties in between games of sabacc, checking up on inventory, and drinking through a pot of caf. It was actually cool enough this afternoon she could take her caf hot instead of chilled, and not feel like she was boiling alive. She took a sip. If nothing else, she was damn good at enjoying the little things.

She heard engines overhead and glanced up to see what was heading her way. An Intel X4 gunship, by the sound of it. It soared into view, and she narrowed her eyes in curiosity. Didn’t see those around often, but she could fix it. As long as the pilot was good for it, of course.

Her droids rolled up, ready to help, and she strolled out of her office with her cup of hot caf in hand. She blew on it idly as the ship set down on its landing gear, which had seen better days. She could already spot six areas that needed repair, always a bad sign.

The more she looked, the more she saw. The ship itself bore marked signs of carbon scoring and was missing several panels and outer arrays. One of the gun turrets had been taken out entirely. Poor flying, it looked like, but it made for good credits. She could get a solid day or two of work out of it, easy.

She waited, growing increasingly annoyed at the amount of time it was taking for the pilot to hurry up and step outside. Her caf was growing cold in her hands in the chilly winter breeze, and she frowned. “Coming out or what?” she hollered, perfectly aware that the pilot wouldn’t be able to hear her unless they opened the ship up. Still, though, it made her feel like she was doing something. One of her droids burbled to her curiously, and she shrugged.

After what seemed an eternity, the ramp dropped to the sand. She watched the darkness within the ship curiously, peering up into its belly as the pilot descended the ramp. Those boots -- it couldn’t be -- A grin stretched across her face.

“Mando!” she crowed. “Moving up in the world! Finally put that hunk of junk of yours to rest, did you?”

The Mandalorian stepped out of the cargo bay, each footstep on the ramp measured and slow. He walked down to her level. “The Crest had a good run,” he said, as humorless as ever.

“Well, what happened to her? You didn’t blow up running sublight, anyway, or you’d be space dust,” Peli laughed, taking a sip of her caf. Ah, hell. She’d forgotten it had gone cold. She slugged down the rest, her mouth twitching at the bitterness. She leaned sideways, looking around the back of him for the strap of the bag he wore to carry the kid. But he wasn’t wearing it.

“An Imperial light cruiser happened,” he said. “The X4’s serviceable enough. But it’s going to need some work.”

“A light cruiser?” Peli asked in disbelief. “That would have blown your rusty tin can to bits.”

He shifted slightly, rested his hands on his hips. “It did.”

“Hang on, hang on.” She handed her cup to one of the droids, who trotted off with it for cleaning. She stared at the Mandalorian, spreading her hands out wide. “Let’s get one thing straight. Where’s my little guy?”

Mando stared at her, or maybe he didn’t. The helmet was impossible to read. But his shoulders rose and fell. Rose, and fell.

She knew what an Imperial light cruiser could do. Knew it could take down a whole town from above, let alone a little ship. Let alone a little ship holding a defenseless child --

“Mando, come on,” she wheedled, trying to keep her tone light despite a growing sense of dread. “You’re scaring me here. Where is he?”

“He’s safe now,” said Mando at last, and even through the helmet his voice sounded wrong. Peli felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cool winter breeze.

“What do you mean?” she said sharply. “I don’t like how that sounds, I don’t like it at all. Sounds kinda final to me.”

“He’s with his own kind now,” said Mando, and his shoulders sank. He looked at his hands, flexed them as if he didn’t recognize them. “I found him a --” His voice hitched. He tried again. “I found him a -- a Jedi --”

She heard it, then, the strain. That rough wetness to the voice. The Mandalorian was crying.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Ohhhh, shit shit shit, Mando.” She hurried over to him, grabbed the great silver lump by his shoulders, and steered him into her office. He went without protest, his vocoder still relaying breathing that was too ragged and irregular to be normal. Well, if this wasn’t a womp rat in the water tank.

She fought back her own disappointment, her face twisting as she shoved him into one of the chairs. She took the other, resting her face in her hand, and gaped at him.

“When did this happen?”

His helmet stared past her at the wall. He took a deep breath, and the weepy sounds were gone. “A few weeks ago,” he said, and his voice was all flatness, all emptiness.

She shook her head. “I mean, I know you said you were gonna -- but I thought that was just talk.”

“Why would it just be talk?” he asked, straightening up in his chair, stiff as anything. “I was quested --”

“For suns’ sake, I thought you were just being religious or something! A figure of speech!” said Peli. “I never thought you’d really send him away. You were crazy about him!”

The helmet tilted toward her in a faint nod. “Yeah.”

Peli rubbed her face, trying to square what he was telling her now with the way he carried that little kid halfway across the Dune Sea, strapped to his hip, precious as anything. She let out a long breath through her nose, thinking.

“So wait. The kid was a Jedi?”

“He had… powers. He needed training I couldn’t give him.” This part came out all rote, like he’d said it a hundred times.

“But he had to leave you for that? Like, you still get to see him now and then, right? He’s not gone forever -- oh no, I’m sorry, oh, hell.” He wasn’t crying this time, or if he was, it was harder to tell -- but he’d twisted his helmet hard to the side as if she’d punched him straight through his fancy armor, and he’d tensed in a way that had nothing to do with being battle-ready. She froze, waiting for him to respond.

“I don’t think I’ll ever see him again,” he mumbled, bowing his head over his chest. His hands unfurled in his lap, palms facing upward like they’d never hold a weapon again.

Damn it. Peli scrubbed her burning eyes, hard, with the sleeve of her jacket. They sat in silence for several minutes, Peli for once at a loss for words.

There was a small noise by the door. She glanced at it out of habit, startling when she realized it was one of the boys with her evening meal. She’d forgotten she’d set the droids on dinner duty tonight, not wanting to bother with it herself. She blinked away the stinging in her eyes and turned to the Mandalorian, slumped in the chair.

“Hey. You.”

He lifted the helmet slightly, enough so she could tell he heard her.

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

He tilted his head upward to look at her, pausing as if in thought. “Yesterday? …day before yesterday.”

“Well, damn it, here you go.” She grabbed the tray from her droid and shoved the platter of food into the Mandalorian’s lap. He looked down at bantha cheese, sorghum bread and dewback jerky with apparent bemusement.

“I — shouldn’t—“

Oh, right. He was one of those that never showed his face, she remembered. She firmly turned her chair around and closed her eyes, shooing her droid away with one hand. She heard the droid go and reached, eyes still closed, to shut her office door.

“I ain’t looking,” she declared. “But you need to eat, and if you wanna talk while doing it, that’s fine too. I got more things to worry about than what one Mandalorian looks like under his helmet, you know.”

A few beats passed. She wasn’t sure what he would say, but the fact he hadn’t outright insisted she take her dewback jerky and screw off was probably a good sign.

“You swear it?” he asked cautiously.

“I do. Cross my heart and hope to fall in a sarlacc pit. But honest, if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll go out to the yard, or you can get back on your ship —“

There was a hissing sound and a faint snick. “No. It’s all right.” The words were followed by the sounds of eating and swallowing. Something in her relaxed slightly, hearing it.

Peli leaned back in her chair, resolutely keeping her eyes closed. Customers had a million weird requests and this was an easy one, especially since a well-fed customer always paid better.

Besides, Mando wasn’t just a typical customer anymore. Somewhere in there between repeat business and the shared affection they had for the child, he’d become a… a friend. And Peli knew how to deal with those.

She settled her head in against the chair’s back and crossed her arms. “So,” she said baldly, “I take it you’re not exactly doing great.”

He snorted. Huh, he could laugh. “That’s presumptuous,” he said, and without the ominous filter of the helmet, his voice was just a man’s voice, a little low, a little rough. There was a pause. “No. I guess not.”

“It’s not something people just get over, losing a kid.” She waved a hand up over the back of her chair in what she assumed was still his general direction. “And I know, maybe you’ll say he wasn’t really your kid —“

“No,” he said suddenly, the word fierce. “He was.” He sounded raw, vulnerable. Human.

Peli nodded, her heart aching. She liked that he was admitting it. He’d always been cagey about that before, when Peli would tease him about his strange-looking kid and he’d mulishly push back, spouting off crap about the kid being a foundling, yadda yadda. But it had been obvious to her on their visits it was more than that. The kid wasn’t a foundling, he was his foundling.

“So then, he’s your kid,” she continued. She waved one hand where he could see it, underscoring her words. “And losing him… it hurts, right? Some horrible dark hole you can’t climb out of. Can’t see the suns from. It sticks with you, through everything you do.” She sighed. “It does get… softer, eventually. The dark sticks to the corners again. But it’s still awful. If you weren’t a mess about it I wouldn’t like you so much.”

She could hear him breathing hard behind her. She waited. “You’ve been through it yourself,” he said, realizing.

“Something like that. Not exactly the same.” She shrugged, broadly enough that she thought he could probably see it even with the chair back in the way. With her eyes closed it was easy to see their faces as they had been. Her younger sister Prida, gleefully loudmouthed and brassy; her beautiful nephew Nedhi with his chubby cheeks and bright eyes. “But let’s just say you don’t get to be my age on a world like this without losing people.”

“No. I guess not. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Peli, though it never would be, not really. But she’d done her work on the dark, hard kriffing work, and she didn’t want him feeling like he had to suddenly stop being a mess and focus on helping her. This wasn’t about that. “It was a long time ago. You don’t move on, really, but you move forward.”

She heard a faint click. “You can turn around now,” he said. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“That’s me, Peli Motto, kindness expert,” she said loftily.

A faint sound that might have been something like a laugh shifted into a serious tone. “I haven’t shared a meal with anyone in -- not since Grogu.” The last word came out nearly as quiet as a whisper, but she caught it anyway. It sounded like a name.

She turned back around, opening her eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness. Mando’s helmet, back in place, gleamed in the fading sunlight streaming through the window. “What’s a Grogu?” she asked curiously.

“It’s the kid’s real name. I only found out recently.” He rested a hand on his belt, fingers tightening over one of the pouches. “You should have seen the way he smiled, hearing it again --” His voice had gone warm again, taking that tone he always used when talking to the kid.

Peli grinned at him, picturing the kid’s strange face all sunny, his long ears tipping upward. Grogu. It fit him in a strange way, a weird homely name for a weird homely baby: just like how the bright little baby seemed to fit so well with the grim Mandalorian. This was good. This was progress.

But Mando caught himself, the warmth shutting off abruptly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about this. You have other things to do, and you’ve already done more than you needed. And I should —“

“You should what?” Peli asked. “Go back and mope alone on your new ship? Something tells me you’ve already done more than enough of that, Mr. I Haven’t Eaten in Two Days.”

“You have no right --” he began, half-rising out of his chair as if to leave.

“No right to what?” she snapped, annoyed now. “Point out when you’re gonna get yourself killed? Don’t think I haven’t seen the state of that ship. I know you’re a better pilot than that, you had to be to survive in the junk you were flying before. If you’d taken any halfway decent evasive maneuvers it’d be in much better shape. You’re flying sloppy,” she accused, and he sank back into the chair.

“And if I am?” he said, and the hollowness rolled off of him in waves.

Peli got to her feet, pacing around with one hand anchored to her hip, the other flying around to make her point. Tough guys! There was no end to their obnoxiousness. “Look. This is grief, Mando, and that’s the kind of shit that hunts you down and takes you out if you don’t face it. You’re not special. It’ll get you. But I think you’re good people, and I like having you as a customer, and I’m selfish. I’d like to keep you around instead of hearing you got yourself blown up.”

He lowered his head, listening.

“So here’s Peli’s take on the situation. I think you wanna talk about him, and about what you’re going through.” She raised her brows. “And I think you should. I really think you should.”

He was silent for a few moments. She paced.

“And you’re the one to talk to, huh?” he asked.

“Unless you’re hiding somebody else on that ship.”

He chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. “Only in carbonite. But they’re not very good listeners.”

“Well, look who’s a funny guy!” Peli cackled. “Come on. I’ll get the droids started on repairing your ship. Let’s go up to the roof and take some time. Night’s nice, this time of year.”

“Fine,” he said, in utter resignation.

***

They sat on empty shipping containers on the rooftop where the breeze was best, watching the moons rise as the last flare of the setting suns washed across the horizon. The first star of the evening shone silvery white against the dusk.

Mando sat, shoulders straight and head high, on his crate; Peli slouched comfortably on hers. A thermos of hot chocolate sat beside her, a treat she liked to save for particularly profitable days. And for rough ones, too. It was still a little too hot to drink, and she waited, trying to be patient despite it not being one of her strong suits.

“Well, Mando?” she asked.

“What do you want me to say?” he replied.

“I dunno. Tell me something about the kid. Something that made you happy about him. Or sad. Come on, they’re your emotions,” said Peli. “Ahh, I suppose I should go easy on you. You don’t strike me as the conversational type.”

Another one of those dry chuckles. “I’m not. But I talked to him a lot.”

“Sure. It’s good for kids. Gotta mold those growing brains and all. What’d you talk to him about? Bounty hunting?”

“Not exactly,” said the Mandalorian. He angled his head to one side, considering. “I would always give him some idea of what we were doing, where we were going, who we were going to see. He seemed to like hearing about it, like it was a story.”

“Did you ever tell him any bedtime stories?” asked Peli. “He liked those, you know.”

He turned to her, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you mean?”

“How d’you think I got him to sleep, that first time you two showed up? You were off in the Dune Sea with that idiot hunter kid, and I had to figure out how to get the little guy to get some sleep, otherwise he would have eaten me out of house and home,” laughed Peli. “So I told him all the stories I used to tell my nephew Nedhi. The lost little bantha, the happy Jawa, the baby krayt dragon all alone in the desert. You know. The classics.”

“I’m sure he enjoyed them,” said Mando. “I didn’t really know any stories.” He shifted awkwardly on his crate. “I tried to make up a few, but it’s not exactly my forte.”

“Well, he did like the stories, but I think he liked them too well. Kept trying to act out the dance of the happy Jawa instead of going to sleep. Nah, he didn’t get tired until I tried singing a lullaby to him. You do not want to hear me sing, but I guess it worked. Kids have weird taste,” said Peli, shaking her head. She checked the display on her thermos and saw the temperature had settled at the perfect warmth for drinking. “Hey, you want some hot chocolate? Mixed it special. I might have added a few nips of Rylothian firewhiskey; really gives it a kick.”

“Maybe later,” said Mando gruffly.

“Your loss,” said Peli, pouring out a little cup for herself. She blew on the surface, then took a sip, feeling warmth suffuse her from the top of her head to her toes. She whistled. “It’s a good batch. Lemme know if you change your mind.”

The last daylight vanished, leaving a sky painted in inky blues and purples. The nascent moons crept shyly above the horizon as the starfield began to populate in earnest, points of flickering gold and white amid the darkness.

“What was his favorite food?” Peli asked.

The Mandalorian guffawed, throwing his head back. “He ate everything. You know he almost got us all killed on that transport trip with your Frog friend?”

“What?” Peli squawked. “I heard back from her later. Sent me a holo of her cute little tadpoles and told me you’d kept your word like a true Mandalorian. She didn’t mention a word about death-defying experiences.”

“We crashed on a glacial world trying to shake a New Republic patrol,” said Mando. “I was busy repairing the ship when she wandered off and found a hot spring. She was trying to keep her eggs warm and I was trying to keep them safe from -- well, Grogu found these spider eggs and started eating them. Turns out ice spiders come in a lot of different sizes.” He groaned. “The biggest one was the size of the Crest. If I never see another ice spider, it’ll be too soon.”

“Oh, no,” Peli lamented. “Well, tell me you weren’t too hard on him. He couldn’t have known what he was doing. He was just hungry!”

“Don’t worry. He didn’t get in trouble. It wasn’t his fault,” said Mando. He lay back on the crate, lacing his fingers together over his waist and letting his legs hang free. “I should have kept a better watch on him.” He turned his helmet to look at her. “You were right.”

“About what?” asked Peli, taking another sip of chocolate. It burned sweetly on the way down, and she closed her eyes, savoring it. The warmth was a delicious contrast to the cool night wind. “Besides everything.”

“The first time we met. You told me I had a lot to learn about caring for a young one.”

She cast her mind back to her first meeting, remembering how Grogu had sleepily walked out of the ship, looking around in disappointed confusion for his beskar-clad caretaker. She’d seen a lot of shoddy childcare in Mos Eisley, but leaving a toddler alone on a gunship definitely ranked up there with questionable parenting practices. It was a move made either by someone foolish or desperate, and she knew which one Mando wasn’t.

“Yeah, well, you probably didn’t have a lot of options,” said Peli gently. “Raising a kid, it’s hard work. I tried to help my sister Prida as much as I could. My nephew was always getting into things and making a nuisance of himself, so I watched him a lot when she had to work. He was always messing around with my tools and getting underfoot; used to tell my sister I’d rather adopt a Kowakian monkey-lizard than have to deal with his shenanigans.” She smiled fondly.

“Did your nephew grow out of it?” asked Mando. “I kept hoping Grogu would start listening to me for once, but he was stubborn.”

Peli shook her head, swallowing. She looked away from him, staring off into the darkened desert, shivering slightly in the wind. “Never got to find out. The Hutts charged a lot for protection. I didn’t even know Prida was in debt until…” She sighed. “I came home with dinner and found them both. There had been a struggle, but not a very long one.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mando, sitting back up. His shoulders shifted, the angle between them softening.

“It’s never the same for anybody,” said Peli. “Grief, I mean. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. But I think the shape of it’s kind of the same, even if the name is different. Son. Nephew. Sister. It’s all hard.” She finished her chocolate and reached for the thermos. More firewhiskey sounded good, right about now. “Sure you don’t want some, Mando?”

He hesitated, then reached out an orange-gloved hand.

“That’s the spirit,” said Peli. She filled her own cup, then filled the second one for him and passed it over. She held hers up and clinked it against his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he said cautiously. She turned away, keeping her gaze on the distant mountains, just the merest black line on the darkened horizon. The stars spangled the heavens, little jewels in gold and white. Behind her, the Mandalorian was apparently investigating his drink. She heard the click and hiss of his helmet raising and lowering as he drank, then a hacking sputter.

“You all right there?” she asked, resisting the urge to look at him in case she saw under the helmet.

He gulped audibly. “It’s been a while since I had firewhiskey,” he said, his voice unmechanized. She heard him swallow again, this time without the sputter. “This is good, though. I haven’t had hot chocolate in years.”

“Even the packaged stuff?” Peli asked. “Aw, come on. You gotta treat yourself sometimes, Mando.”

“Treating myself usually means picking up a new weapon,” he said drily. “Grogu would have liked this, though. Without the firewhiskey.”

“Of course, of course.”

She sipped her chocolate. In the distance, a lonely krayt dragon howled, just like in the stories. It was a faint, pithy sound, but the empty sands carried the cry clearly, and it washed over them like the breeze. She and Prida used to cower at the sound when they were children. Now, it simply sounded like home.

“So how are you really?” asked Peli. She’d never seen much point in subtlety.

“I don’t sleep well,” he said reluctantly.

“Sounds about right. It takes a toll,” said Peli. “Hurt like this messes with you. I remember I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything. It took weeks, maybe months, before I could sleep again.”

“Grogu used to wake me up most nights, talking to himself or crying or getting into things. I… didn’t mind that,” he mused. “But now he’s gone. And I still can’t sleep.”

“Dreams?”

She heard the click of his helmet settling back into place. “Yes.”

“Bad ones?”

A long, tense pause. When he spoke again, his voice shook. “Yes.”

She turned back to face him, taking another drink, letting the warmth of the chocolate fill her mouth and chest. She remembered that time in a blurry, confused way, broken nights marked by imagining how that fight must have gone. Dreams where she thought they’d died quickly, or dreams where they lasted for a while, suffering, on the floor of their cramped grimy kitchen. She didn’t know which she hated more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She looked down at her hands, calloused and wrinkled, a lifetime of hard work etched into them. But they hadn’t been enough to undo what had been done.

“He almost died,” said Mando roughly, glancing away from her. Moonlight and starlight pooled and rippled over his armor. “The Imps took him. They were taking his blood, doing tests on him. Experiments. If I hadn’t come for him -- if that Jedi hadn’t been so powerful...” He sighed.

“Shit,” whispered Peli.

HIs hands curled into fists. “He was so pale when I found him. They’d hurt him. Badly.” His legs, dangling over the edge of the crate, were trembling. All of him was trembling.

A white-hot rage burned within her, a fury that made her slug back the rest of her chocolate and scowl. “Are they still alive? You need me to kill them for you?”

He laughed a little, the sound cracking partway through. The trembling faded. “They’re all either dead or the New Republic’s problem now. But… thank you.”

“How could anyone hurt a hair on his head?” growled Peli. “You’re sure he’ll be safe with this Jedi?”

“The Jedi fought like nothing I’ve ever seen,” said Mando. “And he promised he would lay down his life for the kid. I have to believe it’s enough. I did what I set out to do. It just….” He rolled the little cup of hot chocolate around in his hand, then raised his other hand to lift the helmet. Peli closed her eyes until she could hear the helmet drop back down.

“It must have been so hard,” said Peli. “Letting him go like that.”

Mando set the cup down beside him and rested his hands on his thighs, the fingers flexing and uncurling. “I let him see me.”

“Huh? You’re hard to miss, you know --” Peli began, then realized. “You mean your face?”

A slight nod, the helmet dipping towards her and lifting back up. “I… broke the Creed.” The words hung heavy in the air between them. “I don’t regret it. He wanted to see me. And… I wanted to be seen.” His voice dropped, low and hoarse. “I promised him I would see him again. But I don’t know that I will, and I -- I wanted him to remember my face.”

Peli gaped at him, horrified. “So let me get this straight. You lost your boy. And your ship. And your creed? Just since the last time I saw you?”

He was quiet.

“Dank farrik, Mando!” she bellowed. A flock of lesser nightwings roosting on the roof took flight, scattering in the moonlight at the sound. “Look. You can dock here as long as you need, all right?”

He shook his head. “People are hunting me. What else is new?”

Peli frowned. “Fair enough.” The guy really didn’t seem to be able to catch a break. “Don’t want to put you at risk, in case you do get to see him again. And I’ll be pulling for you on that, believe you me. We’ll get you out of here, quick as we can.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You know, I figured out what it is,” said Peli. “What got me. You and Grogu remind me so much of Prida and Nedhi -- the two of you against the world.” Her mouth quirked up to one side in a half-smile. “Just don’t forget to visit old Peli if you get him back, you hear?”

“Sure. Maybe you can teach me some of those bedtime stories for him,” said Mando. “For -- for the future.”

“Absolutely.” She kicked her heels against her crate, rapping an aimless pattern as she did so. The firewhiskey was starting to kick in a little, and she made a decision. “Look… just so you know, repairs on your ship are on me this time.”

“No,” he said sternly. “Full price. Plus extra for the food and the chocolate.”

“No,” Peli insisted. He was an obstinate one, that was for sure. She could see where the kid got it from. “Fine. Half price. You overpaid me the first time, remember?”

He let out an annoyed grunt. “Three quarters.”

“Deal,” she said, smirking. “You’re something else, Mandalorian.”

He seemed to be thinking hard about something, though it was difficult to tell with the helmet. Eventually he said, “Din.”

“Eh?”

“My name is Din Djarin,” he said.

She blinked. “It’s a good name,” she said lamely. Huh. She hadn’t expected that. But then again, maybe Mando didn’t sit on him as easily as it used to. The thought made her sad, the feeling mingled with a sense of something like honor, what with him sharing this with her. She suspected it was something he had done very few times before.

“All right, Din,” she said, trying it out. It felt heavy, and strange, but right. “Don’t worry. I won’t spread it around.”

“Thanks.”

She glanced at her chrono, realizing how long they’d been up on the roof. “Well, I guess I’d better check on how the droids are getting on with your ship, since you’ll need to get going.”

“I... have a little time,” Din said slowly, glancing at her. “Got any more of that chocolate?”

She grinned at him, heartened. “For a friend? Yeah. Of course I do.” She reached for his cup and refilled them both with the last of the spiked hot chocolate. She passed him his cup and he held it up for a toast.

Peli hesitated, then smiled softly. “To those we carry with us.” Her cup clinked against his, a bright and hopeful sound.

“To those we carry with us,” Din echoed, and the mingled grief and gratitude in his voice cut her to the core.

The moons above them glowed in soft whites and yellows against the endless sky, and the stars wheeled. Below them, Mos Eisley lived and hummed and moved on, its citizens striving, searching, seeking. The mechanic and the man in armor sat on the roof under the stars and moons, enjoying the taste of hot chocolate and firewhiskey in the cool winter air, and for at least a little while, they did not fear the dark.

***********

(Bonus: a doodle I did of their initial meeting.)

#the mandalorian #din djarin #peli motto #grogu #the mandalorian fanfiction #noromo mando #my mando fic

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years ago

Text

Hopes and Dreams - Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

80s90steen

The Mandalorian x reader. She’s literally a pure angel and they’re in love with each other. She holds the baby and he says mama and inside his helmet he’s thinking about marrying her.

AN: Fem!Reader

Din didn’t know much about relationships, but he understood that stability planned a crucial role in maintaining them. A state of consistent contact needed to be established; something that, with Din’s lifestyle, was difficult to foster. He only had a few scattered allies in the galaxy. A few were just enough for him. Or, so he thought.

Then Din met you and everything changed. Family was something he had never thought about before, never even considered. Then you came into his life, opening his eyes to a solar system’s worth of possibility. Well, you and the Child.

“Do you think he has a name?” Your voice was sweet with the question and heavy with thought. Yet not even your voice was as sweet as the scene that met Din’s eyes when he turned in the pilot’s chair. You had moved the Child’s ship-seat to sit there yourself. In your lap, the little green creature played with your fingers.

Din struggled to find his voice. In the silence, you looked up and peered at him. It felt like, somehow, you could see past the mask. Exposed, Din managed to piece some words together. Even after knowing you, loving you, you still managed to take his breath away.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“He must have one,” you wondered aloud, “whoever his parents ar-were, they had him for fifty years.” Din nodded and turned back to the console. He set a course to yet another Outer Rim world and let autopilot take control.

“Probably,” Din agreed. He stood up from the chair and turned to watch you once more. You were smiling at the Child who, squealing, began climbing up your chest. His little fingers curled into the material of your jacket as his climb turned more into a strange embrace.

Din shook his head at the sight. Still grinning, you met the eyes of his mask and stood. The Child was grasping tightly to you; like an Ewok to a redwood tree. You shifted a bit, trying to worm your way to a better position to direct the Child’s climb. But the creature kept going, giving you no chance to get a tighter hold on him.

“Here,” Din reached towards you, “come to me, little one.”

Carefully, Din plucked the Child from your chest. A small whimper fell from its lips as Din took him in his arms. You frowned and fixed your clothes from where the Child had dug in its claws. Even with messed attire, Din couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was thankful that you couldn’t see through the dark viewplate.

“Mmma,” the Child cooed. You looked up and smiled.

“What is it?” Your eyes widened suddenly, making Din smile. “Are you trying to tell us your name?”

“Mmaa,” the Child looked from you to Din.

“Does that mean anything in Mando’a?”

“Not that I know of,” Din replied as he lifted the Child to meet his eyes.

You leaned in close. So close that Din could feel the heat from your skin and smell the soap you bought from a trader on Tatooine. Sweet Bantha milk and desert plum; staple scents of the sand-planet aside from sweat and desperation.

Din watched as you reached out towards the Child. Your thumbs brushed against his green cheeks, eliciting a giggle from the creature. A similar laugh fell from your lips. Din felt his chest tighten at the sound. He longed to hear you laugh more often.

“You’re good with him,” he said.

His voice brought your gaze to the helmet. Your eyes were soft, light with a gentleness Din thought never existed. However, you had shown him that even in this galaxy full of darkness, there was always something bright to hold on to. For Din, you were his bright thing and he wanted to hold you as tight as he could.

“No better than you are,” you replied, lifting a free hand to the side of Din’s helmet. Maker, he needed to take it off. He needed to feel your skin on his.

Almost as if he were jealous that your attention was elsewhere, the Child reached for your arm. With its little hands, he pulled on your sleeve and your hand fell from Din’s helmet. Dark, squinted eyes met Din’s then the Child turned its pointed gaze on you. A whimper fell from its small mouth and it reached out towards your face.

“Mmm-mama.”

Your eyes widened. “Did he just…”

“Mamaaa,” the Child cried out. He began waving his little fists in the air and Din let out a scoff. Extending his arms, Din handed you the Child.

“He did,” Din sighed.

You took the green creature up in your arms, cradling it as if it weren’t half a century old. With his now free hands, Din pushed up on his helmet. The cool air of the Razor Crest hit his face and Din took in the sight of you without the shades of tactical red of his visor. How refreshing, relieving it was to see you; truly see you.

“Hello there,” you teased, meeting Din’s dark eyes. The Mandalorian felt a smile tug at his lips. The feeling of joy in his chest only intensified as you stepped towards him and leaned up on your tippy-toes. Your lips brushed against Din’s before he, not able to help himself, captured them in a full kiss.

His gloved hand reached up and cupped your cheek. The rough fabric tickled your sensitive skin and sent shivers down your spine. For a moment, Din swore he felt it too. That near-electric jolt from your body to his. It was like you were one. It was a feeling so real that it made Din’s stomach twist.

Then it felt like he was being pushed away. Din’s lips parted from your own and he opened his eyes. Immediately, his gaze fell on the Child who held out a splayed palm. Din wasn’t entirely sure what the Child’s powers were, but whatever it was doing was alarmingly strong. You shook your head at the creature and shot Din an apologetic look.

“I’m going to get him to bed.”

“Mama,” the Child repeated, bringing your eyes to his.

“Yeah, I’ll be-”

“Mama.”

“Alright, alright,” you sighed. Before you walked off, you leaned up once more and peck Din’s cheek. “I’ll be with you soon.”

Din hummed lightly and watched you walk towards the ladder that led down into the hull of the Razor Crest. He watched the top of your head disappear before he began to shed his beskar. First, his shin guards, then chest plate, followed by shoulder pauldrons and, finally, his gloves. Weight literally fell from his body and all he could think about was you.

You and the Child and him. What kind of life could the three of you have on the run? Would it be like this, these stolen moments between fueling stops and bounties? Din cherished this time; it was so easy to forget about the reality that awaited you all.

Din slumped in the passenger seat as he thought. He rubbed his scruffy chin and sighed. All he wanted was to keep you and the boy safe. It grew harder to do that with each planet you stopped on; whether the system was under the New Republic or not. Din only hoped that, soon, any remanents of the Empire would flicker out entirely.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was like meiloorun nectar in his ear; sweet and full. “It’s dangerous, you know.”

Din looked up from where you stood behind him. “Is he asleep?”

You nodded in reply and gave Din’s shoulders a tender squeeze. He watched as you moved from behind to in front of him. Instinctually, Din scooted up in the seat and you smiled; he knew that smile, loved that smile. You wore it as you moved to straddle his lap and Din’s hands immediately went to your hips to hold you as close to him as possible.

“He spoke,” you said softly as you rested your arms on the chair’s headrest. “Well, a little, anyway.”

“He got jealous too,” Din pointed out curtly. You beamed and moved one of your hands to brush against the side of his face.

“Maybe you did too, huh?” Din fought a scoff and pressed his face into the meat of your palm. You smiled and Din met your gaze once more.

“No.” There was an edge of humor in his voice that told you it was a lie. Din had never been good a lying; especially to you.

“Uh-huh, I see,” you leaned towards him, “then what were you thinking about?”

“You,” he whispered softly, “and the little one. About what to do.”

Your brow furrowed. “What to do?”

“We can’t keep running,” Din admitted, “we’ll run out of supplies, land, get hunted, fight...get hurt. Then we’ll run again.”

“And get tired,” you agreed. You rubbed your thumb along the peak of Din’s cheekbone. “Are you saying you want to settle down?”

Din gave you and sheepish smile; an expression rare for him and Mandalorians in general. You remembered then, what he had told you the first time you asked about his armor.

“Once we take it off, we can’t put it back on,” he had said. Although, when he did eventually take it off, Din put it back on without second thought. He had put his love for you and the Child before those who saved him. But maybe that Mandalorian teaching was still ingrained in his mind. Maybe he felt guilty.

“With that womp rat, I don’t think we could settle down,” Din sighed lightheartedly. You bit your bottom lips to hide your smile. Din lifted a careful hand and pulled the flesh free. He traced the tip of his thumb along your now-flush bottom lip. He was looking to distract himself in you and it was much too easy.

“Din, I can’t speak for the Child, but I would never want to keep you from your work.”

Work, bounty hunting. Din hadn’t collected a proper bounty since you both had picked up the one set on the Child. The little green creature had done more than break down his walls; he made Din realize that there was so much more he wanted. That included you.

“You’re more important,” richer than any bounty, Din wanted to add, but he bit his tongue. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. He took a grounding breath and you melted into his warmth. “We are one…”

“Din-”

“Together or apart,” Din pulled his head from yours as he recited the words he had heard said only once before. Vows, Mandalorian, but still as true to him as your love. Sensing what he meant, you started to nod. Your hand on his cheek pulled his lips back to yours.

We will share everything, Din thought, completing the vows. Everything: your worries, your love, your hopes and dreams. Even the dreams Din didn’t know he had before he fell in love with you.

3K notes · View notes

scaredyships · 3 years ago

Text

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. III

summary: Mando picks out the planet Sorgan for the three of you to lie low on. Things get complicated, Reader gets a glimpse of how hectic Mando's life can be as a bounty for hire, and everybody is confused about feelings.

word count: 14.5k (...help)

author’s notes: Good LORD I was stuck on this for way too long. Between my creative focus being elsewhere and just being completely stuck as to how I wanted some scenes to play out, it took a lot for me to do more than a sentence or two at a time and then forget about it for days or weeks at a time.

This was also hard to write bc I am very uhhh put off by Omera and her original role as the possible love interest and I was trying very hard to remain believable/respectful about her. Cara Dune was also hard to write because of certain actions by her actor, so she's got a little bit of a lesser role.

I'm saying this now, with future chapters I am not going to be going episode-by-episode like I originally intended. I might jump around and have some "filler" things, I may completely skip over some episode happenings, I may diverge from canon here and there, but generally the outcomes will be the same as the show. I cut out the actual battle of Sorgan too bc this is already too long and I am terrible at writing action scenes. :v

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (you are here) // ao3 link

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It had been a couple days since you’d set yourself up a space in the hold. At least, it felt like a couple days. You weren’t accustomed to space travel and dealing with the lack of solar cycles to indicate the passage of time, so it was difficult to tell exactly. It didn’t really matter, in the end, but it was still a little annoying.

In that time, you spent most of your time getting to know your way around the Razor Crest’s small layout, what panels and buttons did what, and making sure the child on board was cared for and didn’t get into anything he shouldn’t. Easier said than done, as that kid was surprisingly sneaky and far too curious. He seemed well-behaved, right up until you weren’t looking, and the next thing you knew he was doing something like rooting around in a pile of netting and getting hopelessly tangled, or trying to put things in his mouth to teethe on.

Right now, the kid was up in the cockpit with Mando. Even though you were on board to help out, Mando still seemed to feel better when he was in the same room as the kid versus you being the one supervising, and to be honest it was nice to have a break from babysitting. You had never wanted kids of your own to begin with, and though this kid wasn’t exactly your standard child, it reinforced that at the end of the day, the factor of being able to give the child back to their actual caregiver played a large role in just how tolerant you were of them.

The entire ship suddenly jerked to the side and sent you crashing into the hull wall, your shins narrowly avoiding smashing against the edge of one of the crates lying around. To say you were shaken was a bit of an understatement, despite not a moment later, the normal smooth flight pattern returning and the ship righting itself. Did Mando hit something? Was some part of the ship on the verge of breaking down completely? You did a quick sweep to make sure none of the weapons lockers were damaged and that nothing was in danger of going ogg. You swore, this man had far too much firepower on board and one day it was going to come back and bite him.

Fortunately, everything was where it should be and the only things really out of place was your now-askew space, and your frazzled self. Huffing, you sped over to the ladder and clambered up to the cockpit to see if you could find out what was going on. On your way up, you could hear the low, modulated voice of Mando speaking, very likely to the child with the tone you could pick up.

“Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple months, you little womp rat? Nobody’s gonna find us there.”

“Nobody’s gonna find us where?” Your head and shoulders were poking out of the ladder hatch, arms folding over the edge as you gave the pair a pointed look. You weren’t about to let Mando decide where you were going to camp out for months without you giving some input.

The Mandalorian turning to face you with the child in his lap was almost comical, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t expecting to be called out on. You didn’t see any sign of concern over whatever had shaken you down below, so you figured you could bring that up later.

You could see a holomap beyond Mando, though it was too far for you to make out any of the text on it. You dragged yourself the rest of the way into the cockpit, righting yourself and coming to a halt just far enough that you could read the screen.

“An outer rim planet.” He leaned aside and let you read the screen’s details. Sorgan, huh. You vaguely remember that name from when you were compiling planets for Mando back when this whole mess started. The details past that escaped you, though. You squinted as you read on. No populations outside of small settlements to speak of, no starports or anything industrial… and it was one of those planets made up of a single biome - swamp.

To be honest, you weren’t thrilled at the idea of actually camping out for so long in such a place. You were so accustomed to being in places that had somewhat larger settlements, and absolutely more tech than this planet likely had, not just for business but simple things like staying entertained. But you were even less thrilled at the fact that this was a swamp planet. You knew not all swamp planets were the same, but the simple holomap readout didn’t indicate any further details about what kind of swamps it was made up of.

You hope above all things it’s not a bog planet like Nal Hutta. Gaseous atmosphere, skies choked by sickly green clouds, brown water, hardly any land to speak of.

You turned and gave Mando a look. “No information about the biome past ‘swamp’?”

He shook his head in that slow, deliberate way of his. You exhaled through your nose.

“Not a fan of swamps?”

“You could say that.” You turned back to the screen, like staring at it might make it give up more information. Maker , you missed your database.

“How far away are we?”

“Not very, maybe an hour or two.”

You stepped back and fell unceremoniously into one of the passenger seats further back in the cockpit. The child, who had been watching you through this whole exchange, seemed to lose his interest once you sat down and went back to looking curiously around at the controls laid out in front of Mando. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, and you started to suspect he had something to do with the ship going sideways earlier. Probably got a hold of the controls somehow.

“I guess I’ll have a better idea of where we’re going once we get a look at the planet.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and turned back to the controls to pilot you all there.

You had been closer than you anticipated, though it was still not a very short journey. Instead of going back down to the hull, you opted to stay in the passenger seat and simply wait. Jumping to hyperspace was something you had yet to get used to, but after so long of the smooth traveling with the smears of light streaking past the windscreens, you found you could relax a little and rest your eyes.

A jolt in the ship as you exited hyperspace shook you awake. Blinking and sitting up in your chair, you peered out the window at the planet taking up the view.

Deep green. Streaks of blue. White cloud cover. You breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the chair back.

“Acceptable?” There was a hint of amusement in Mando’s voice. You smirked at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” You actually were looking forward a little to seeing just what kind of plant life was on this planet. You could see a fair amount of tree coverage, which meant forests. It had been far too long since you’d seen proper forests, let alone been out in one. You had tried to replicate it with your plant corner back home, but it was never the same. Some time amongst real trees would do you good.

The descent had you watching out the window the whole time, surveying the landscape as its features came into view. It had its marshes and rivers, but equal amounts of coniferous forests and solid land. This place could almost pass for an arboreal biome planet in places. You spotted very few settlements on the way in, too, and what you did see looked to be the most basic of small villages.

Mando landed the Razor Crest some ways away from a small market, hidden amongst ample tree coverage. He locked down the controls and lifted the kid with one arm, removing a small silver ball from his clutches to attach to one of the levers in the array.

“I’m going to go out and find us some lodging. Wait here with the kid. Don’t let him touch anything. I’ll be back.”

He passed the child off to you, with such surety that you’d take him that he nearly dropped the little one on you before you could respond. You grabbed him with both hands in a slight panic, thinking he was about to fall, and in doing so your fingers gripped into the gloved ones already supporting his weight. Even with the barrier between skin-to-skin contact, it was awkward and had your face heating with embarrassment that you’d accidentally touched the bounty hunter. He, however, made no indication of any such reaction, damn that helmet making him unreadable. His hands withdrew once it was certain the child was in your grasp safely.

You and the child stared at each other as you held him out before you, like you weren’t sure what to do with him now. He looked back at you with a similar expression, and you swore there was a hint of some sort of mischief underneath it. Oh, he had definitely been the one to make the ship go off-kilter, no doubt now. And knowing your luck, he was going to do more of the same once Mando left. You’d already experienced him trying to eat trash despite you actively watching him, you knew he was capable of more.

Mando descended the ladder into the hold, and the sound of the ramp opening up reached the cockpit. You looked out the windscreen, watching as the Mandalorian appeared in your field of view just as the sound of the ramp closing itself back up sounded.

And that was all it took.

The child turned into a complete nightmare the instant it was clear Mando was gone. It didn’t matter what you did - first he fussed and squirmed to be let down, so you did, and the second you turned your head he had somehow managed to get into the pilot’s seat and was attempting to mess with the controls. Every time you picked him up, he fussed again, wriggling and whining loudly, and whenever you set him back down he went straight for whatever he knew he could get in trouble for. You tried to keep this up as long as you could, which proved to be a pathetic five minutes or so. It was like having an extra-smart, extra-naughty loth cat with thumbs on board.

“Okay, kid. We’re going down to the hold. You can’t accidentally start the ship up down there.” You snatched the kid up under his armpits, and though he continued fussing, it was much less, like perhaps he wanted to be in the hold. You knew that the hold had just as much, if not more, for him to get into trouble with, what with the armory down there, but it was better than possibly starting up the engines and taking off.

You awkwardly climbed down the ladder with one arm latched around the child, and once you reached the floor you set him down, hoping he’d behave a little more. How wrong you were. It was like the kid instinctively knew where the controls for the ramp were, because he made a beeline for that panel - knocking whatever he could out of the way just to accentuate his point - and reached his-far-too-short arms into the air like he could possibly reach it if he just tried hard enough. No amount of you trying to redirect his attention or picking him up to set him down elsewhere worked, he would cry and go straight back to the panel and give you repeated looks with big, desperate eyes, like you were a monster for not understanding he wanted to open the door.

“Mando told us to stay here. So we’re going to stay here until he gets back.”

It was when the loud crying started that you knew you had lost the battle.

That alone was one of your top reasons for not desiring children - you couldn’t handle the noise that came with an upset child. Not for any good parental reason like not wanting to see them sad. You genuinely couldn’t stand the screaming, it set you on edge and made you want to scream in turn. And here one was, cries bouncing off the hull walls and drilling into your eardrums with far more force than you could have imagined possible for something so small.

You rushed as fast as you could towards the control panel and slammed the button to open the ramp.

“OKAY! Okay, okay, you win, we’ll go find him.” You glared down at the kid, whose clear face and perked ears indicated the crying had all been an act. You sighed heavily. He’d only known you for maybe a few days and he already knew how to get you to do what he wanted.

“He’s not going to be happy, you know that, right.” The child just tilted his head at you, smug little face seeming to say “no, he can’t get mad at me”.

You wandered back to your area not too far off to get some of your outerwear on - your belt, your ear piece, your blaster, whatever you might need in the immediate future. The neck gaiter you loosely wore got pulled up to securely cover the lower half of your face - it made you feel more secure, somehow, when you were venturing out into strange places. You picked the kid up and awkwardly shifted him to one arm, making your way down the ramp, and hoping you wouldn’t get into too much trouble with the bounty hunter. The kid, meanwhile, happily burbled in your grasp.

With a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you marched out onto the planet’s surface in the direction you had seen Mando go.

You were right. Mando wasn’t happy at all.

He had been trudging along, lost in his thoughts about what kind of lodging he should be looking for now that there wasn’t just him, but you and a child to account for, but still attentive enough to his surroundings that when he heard what sounded like distant footsteps crunching through the undergrowth he paused.

It was when he heard the sounds of the child babbling and you calling out to him to wait that his wariness turned to mild panic, and he rushed towards where he could hear your voices, hand staying within reaching range of his blaster. What had happened? He told you to stay back at the Crest and yet here you were, with the child. Had you been discovered, and just barely escaped? Was the Razor Crest captured?

He came to a halt just a few feet from you, surveying you and the child for any signs of distress or damage, stance wary and ready for a fight.

“What happened?” His tone was terse, apprehensive.

You looked wryly down at the bright-eyed child in your grasp, and back up at the bounty hunter. Or rather, somewhere in the general vicinity of him, as you found you couldn’t look directly at him.

“He, uh. Was very upset at you leaving without him.”

Mando’s defensive posture deflated and he tilted his head in a way that you knew he was giving you a disbelieving look.

“I told you to stay put, and the kid throwing a fit is all it took for you to leave?” He didn’t miss the way your mouth tightened into a thin line and your brow furrowed.

“He wouldn’t stop trying to be destructive, and when I tried to move him he’d just scream and go for the ramp! Look, I told you I wasn’t the best out there with kids.” You snapped, glaring into the blank visor.

Honestly, he could tell you were disappointed in yourself for caving so easily, and he probably wouldn’t have fared much better with his own lack of experience with children. But you could have been followed, and now the ship was unattended. The child, however, looked content as ever, his plan having worked. He sighed. It was what it was at this point. At least he was still in range that could lock the ship up remotely with his vambrace controls, which he set to doing immediately.

“Come on, then.” He motioned with a hand as he turned back to the direction he had come from, cape swirling around his form dramatically. You exchanged a tired glance with the smug kid, having half a mind to set him down and make him walk the rest of the way to wherever you were going.

“You’re lucky you’re at least a little cute.”

By the time you get to civilization, you’d let the kid down to walk - just beside Mando, and you just behind the child. Two unlikely bodyguards for an equally unlikely “dignitary”. The towering trees thinned out on the edge of the small market center, man-made structures beginning to appear. The buildings were small, mostly made of wicker and wood, with very little in the way of tech. The people were equally simple, their dress and presentation reflecting their rural occupations.

With the interest of the child in mind, Mando led the three of you into a common house, the busy sounds of kitchen work and the smell of grilling food easily reaching you before you even got to the entrance. It would have been more welcoming, if it wasn’t also accompanied by nearly everyone turning their eyes to your odd trio and whispering amongst themselves. On one hand, you couldn’t completely blame them, as the three of you were like the lead-up to a bad joke come to life. But it still made you very uncomfortable, knowing without a doubt that you were being watched and discussed. You hated the feeling. You self-consciously adjusted the fabric masking your face and furrowed your brow to try and give off the most “do not approach” energy you could, glancing around at the tenants. Not many of them returned your gaze, save a few, including one woman who didn’t at all look like she was from there. Strong, wearing armor and weapons - not to the extent of the Mandalorian, of course. But you could still feel that she wasn’t to be messed with. You averted your gaze quickly.

The child, meanwhile, was bright as ever with this new place he was in. He looked around the establishment, taking in the new scenery and the light filtering in through the gaps of the woodwork with his big eyes. You in turn watched him, as Mando located a table for the three of you. You followed suit and sat at the table, and as you turned to see what the kid was up to, you noticed the little one had locked eyes with a tooka cat beneath the chair of a nearby tenant. The child was curious, but you knew enough about tooka cats to know that the way it was looking back meant it was interpreting the child’s staring as threatening to its peace. Very few animals took maintaining eye contact as anything but a challenge, and this was no different.

“Leave it alone, kid.” You murmured just loud enough that you hoped he’d hear. Your words were too late, as the cat’s lips pulled back and revealed its enormous maw of teeth in a menacing hiss. The child flinched back with a frightened noise, and next thing you knew you were snatching him up by the ruff of his oversized coat and plopping him in the seat beside you.

There was barely any time for any of you to exchange glances when a proprietor approached the table, face weathered but welcoming.

“Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth, for the little one.” Mando motioned with his hand towards the child. You suppressed giving the armored man a skeptical look for ordering the most basic of things for the kid, when it was obvious they had more substantial food in this establishment. It was fine, you told yourself, he had the final say and this wasn’t the place to call him out on his decisions.

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty. Can I interest you in a porringer of broth as well?” Mando shook his head. The proprietor turned her gaze to you expectantly.

“No, thank you.” You put your palm out in a placating gesture. Even though the aroma of food filtered through your face covering and had a tempting quality to it, somewhere as public as this was absolutely not somewhere you’d be comfortable trying to eat at. If you could take it to go, maybe. But you had no idea where you’d even be staying at this point, or how much longer you’d be looking for such a place. No, you could wait.

The proprietor nearly began to speak again when Mando cut her off. “That one over there, when did she arrive?”

So, you hadn’t been the only one to notice the intimidating woman across the room. Well, it wasn’t that difficult, with how much she stuck out amongst the residents of the planet. You three were equally as noticeable, and you didn’t miss how the woman was still watching you, though she was trying to be discreet about it. There was wariness coming off of her, you could feel that much.

The proprietor glanced towards where Mando had indicated the strange woman to be, seemingly confused. “Uh, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so.”

Mando continued pressing her for answers she didn’t have. “What’s her business here?”

“Business?” The proprietor looked as confused as ever. “Well, there’s not much business on Sorgan, so I can’t say…” The sound of credits clinking onto the countertop reached in your ears as Mando casually tossed some onto the tabletop. You were too busy watching the woman out of your peripheral vision to pay too much attention to what he was up to. The proprietor mentioned the woman not being a log runner, and offered complimentary spotchka before she left to retrieve the order.

The moment the woman stood and moved to leave the common house, you discreetly rapped your knuckle against Mando’s vambrace. The black T of his visor turned towards you, and you vaguely twitched your fingers in the direction the woman had been moments before. “She’s leaving.” You murmured as lowly as you could so Mando could hear but others couldn’t. You didn’t get any impression of real danger or malice from her, but knowing that the three of you had prices on your heads, you had a feeling the bounty hunter would try to follow her and make sure she wasn’t about to report on your whereabouts to anyone.

Mando stood from his seat, gaze trained on the doorway to the establishment. “Stay here with the kid. I’ll be back.”

And there it was. You exhaled through your nose and looked down at the kid, comically small in his chair and watching as the beskar-clad man made his way to the exit and out of sight.

You wondered how often he went out of his way to pick possible fights like this.

The proprietor returned to the table and placed a small bowl in front of the child, breaking you from your thoughts. The complimentary bottle of spotchka made an appearance, too, but you didn’t pay much mind to it. Alcohol was never something you liked, between it being an acquired taste and dulling your thoughts. You still nodded appreciatively at her before she left to tend to the next table.

Before the kid could finish picking up his bowl, the faintest of sounds reached your ears. While you normally wouldn’t pay much mind to such things in a public place, there was some notion in your mind that it was the buckethead getting into a fight with the woman from earlier. You looked over at your tiny companion, who looked up at you over the brim of his bowl and towards the doorway Mando had left through moments earlier.

“He doesn’t need our help, we’ll just get in the way.”

The kid seemed to take that as a challenge, and hopped down from his seat and began to toddle off.

“Hey, no, we are not going out there-” You jumped up and tried to herd him back towards the table, and you almost succeeded, but the little green thing was surprisingly determined and avoided your awkward movements, both of you caught up in a ridiculous dance. The tenants were watching you and your face heated with embarrassment. You finally scooped up the rapscallion with one arm, narrowly avoiding some of the broth sloshing from his bowl and onto the floor.

“Fine, we’ll go see what’s going on. Just stop trying to run off on me.” You pointed meaningfully at the kid with your index finger, peering into those big dark eyes and hoping he actually listened. He looked back at you with those big bright eyes and perked ears in a way that somehow told you he understood.

You carefully set him back on the ground. “Stay close.”

Exiting the establishment and turning the corner was as far as you needed to go to see just what you suspected - Mando and the woman scrabbling to get the upper hand against the other. It was almost comical, in a way, even though blasters were involved and the situation could very well turn dangerous.

And it nearly did just that when the two fell on the ground with blasters pointed at each other’s heads - causing you to pull your own blaster from its holster - except everything was interrupted by a very loud slurp from the child as he watched from beside you, bowl of broth clutched tightly. The slow turns of their heads and prolonged look from both of them was enough of an announcement of a stalemate as any. You snorted and shook your head slightly at the scene.

“I take it you don’t actually want to kill each other, then.” You slightly lowered your blaster from where it was aimed at the woman. You didn’t miss the way Mando paused in a way that you imagined he was rolling his eyes under his helmet. He turned his attention back to the woman he was still vaguely pointing his blaster at.

“Would you like some soup?”

You all returned to the table you’d had back in the common house. The woman - named Cara Dune, you learned - told you her story. She was a former shock trooper for the former Rebel Alliance working on Endor, with no additional support, and as soon as the ex-Imperials were gone the politics got out of hand and she found herself working to “keep the peace”. Beating rioters and favoring delegates wasn’t what she’d signed up for, so she left, and now had a price of her own for desertion. She recognized Mando as being part of the Guild and suspected he’d come looking for her. She kept glancing curiously at you throughout her explanation, like she wasn’t sure what to make of you tagging around with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and why he was even letting it happen. Sure, the child was an equally puzzling factor, but she seemed to sense he was a touchy subject.

She eventually turned to you after her explanation was finished. “So what’s your story?”

You shrugged, idly adjusting one of your wrist pieces. “He got my house blown up and put me on a wanted list, so this is his way of dealing with the guilt.”

Cara visibly bites back a laugh and tries to hide behind her own cup of broth. You glance over at your companion, whose stiff posture tells you he’s not sure how to react, but he’s definitely embarrassed to some degree.

The ex-trooper downs the last of her broth, and stands from the table. “Well, this has been a real treat. But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first.” She gives you all a curt nod, and walks away.

Mando leans back in his own chair and looks between you and the kid, who’s working on his second helping of broth. “Well, looks like this planet’s taken.”

The walk back to the Razor Crest was a somber one for you. Now that you had spent some time on the surface, you’d actually taken a bit of a liking to the place. But Mando was right - as remote as this planet was, it could likely only handle one fugitive at a time. Looked like it was back to the ship directory to root through whatever systems it could access. You tried not to let your mind wander off to mourn your lost database again. This was exactly why you compiled lists of multiple options, in case something like this happened and one of those choices fell through.

A tug on your pant leg dragged you from your mulling. You looked down and were met with the concerned face of the child looking back up at you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” The kid burbled quietly at you in response. That seemed to catch Mando’s attention, as he was now looking questioningly back at you.

“Something wrong?”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to come up with a brief answer that wasn’t too revealing. You weren’t big on talking about your feelings, and you got the impression that neither was Mando, so between the two of you it would be better if it was kept to a minimum.

“Feeling a little useless on the front of hunting for a planet, that’s all.” It was the first time you’d felt this useless in a very long time, to be honest, but you weren’t about to let that part out.

Mando turned back to continue the trek back to the Razor Crest. “We’ll figure something out.” His tone was superficially dull, but you could tell he was trying in his own way to sound reassuring. That counted for something.

Once you made it back to the Crest, which was safe and sound amongst the trees, the two of you got to work - the Mandalorian using the dying daylight to look over the ship for maintenance, while you took up the task of sifting through the planetary database for your next options. Originally Mando wanted you to take the child up with you so he’d be better contained, but after a pitiful look from those big, dark eyes, it was over and decided that he’d watch him. The “watching” very quickly turned into “put the kid to bed”, thank the maker.

It felt like you’d had barely any time to really start your search when you saw what looked like lights on the ground from your view in the cockpit. You slowly stood, watching the lights as they drew nearer. That couldn’t be anything good.

You clambered your way down the ladder and into the hold just as whoever it was pulled up. It was a small cargo sled, one that barely seemed to be holding itself together, with two men of seemingly modest origins on it. Mando wasn’t the least bit concerned about it, as he continued his repairs and ignore them as they tried to get his attention.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Mando didn’t stop working. “There something I can help you with?”

You slowly made your way towards the ramp, taking care to accentuate the sound of your boots hitting the floor and make your presence known, Mando could take care of himself, but if they knew you were here they were less likely to try anything than if he were alone. You shot them a warning glare when they glanced at you, but watching their already-anxious expressions deepen almost made you regret doing so.

“Uh… yeah… raiders.” “We have money.”

You raised an eyebrow at them.

“You think I’m some kind of mercenary?” Mando still made no indication he was going to stop his work for them.

That was enough to get them stammering. First about how they’d read about Mandalorians, and how they thought he was one based on his armor, and if half of what they read was true then they could recruit him for help. One emphasized again, that they had money.

“How much?” Mando had paused his working, turning more attention to these strangers.

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill… We’re… krill farmers.” “We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.”

You don’t know what else you were expecting from locals of the planet, but the coin purse one of the men held up as proof of payment was sad to say the least. Krill farming and spotchka brewing didn’t strike you as a very lucrative business anyways, but if that was all they could muster…?

“It’s not enough.” And there was Mando, confirming your suspicions about what his rates were. You didn’t recall him being picky about his bounty, but thinking back, he did go for higher bounties more often than not. It looked like he still held onto that standard despite no longer being part of the Guild. Hell, if you were going by your own rates, what they appeared to have on hand wouldn’t even cover half of your cheapest services.

Mando finished what he’d been doing and made his way up the ramp towards you. The men following him up the ramp was unexpected, but not frightening. They were desperate, and you were getting a better sense of just how much.

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.” One of them tried to look to you for support. You stared back apprehensively.

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.” Mando brushed past you, using your form as a barrier between him and the strangers as he retreated further into the hold.

“This is everything we have! We’ll give you more after the next harvest!” You stayed where you were, crossing your arms and staring the men down. You knew you should feel bad for them and try to convince Mando to do something, but with the last time you extended help ending with your entire life up to that point being destroyed, you were too wary to do so.

The two men looked between each other and your standoffish presence. Defeated, they slowly turned to return to their sled, talking to each other as they did.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection to the middle of nowhere.”

Mando had only made it a few feet past you by then, so he was definitely within earshot of their conversation. He stopped and turned on his heel, coming up behind you and stopping just behind your shoulder. It took everything in your power to appear unbothered by just how close he stood.

“Where do you live?”

The men paused, turning back to look at the man that had just dismissed them.

“A farm, weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.” The hurt was apparent in the man’s voice.

“In the middle of nowhere.”

“…yes?” The confusion was palpable. You knew where this was going and you weren’t sure you liked it.

“You have lodging?”

The men started to realize where this was going, too, and jumped to provide answers he wanted to hear.

“Yes, absolutely.” Mando briefly glanced at you, as if he was about to ask what you thought. Unfortunately for you, that never happened and he made the decision on his own.

“Good.” Mando motioned to them. “Come up and help.” He motioned to you as well, and began pulling out cargo crates to have them start loading.

You approached the man, once the other men had carried one of the crates far enough that they’re out of hearing range.

“Mando, I don’t know about this. Middle of nowhere or not, Dune’s right, this planet can’t handle more than one fugitive at a time.”

Mando continued moving crates to the ramp. “If it took them all day to get here, they’ll be isolated enough.”

“That kind of distance from civilization, however small, hasn’t stopped bounty hunters before. You of all people know that.” You glared into the T-shape of his visor. You also knew that all it took was enough time for word to get out about sighting a certain beskar-clad Mandalorian traveling with a green child to reach interested ears. For all you knew, it could be happening right now.

Mando stopped his actions to turn and face you fully.

“We can always move on after the job if it doesn’t seem right.”

You sighed heavily through your nose. That seemed to be him trying to tell you he wasn’t about to change his mind. He had been doing this longer than you, you supposed. You glanced towards the closed door of his bunk, where the child was sleeping.

“…fine. But I’ll hold you to that.”

You briskly moved to where your makeshift corner was and started gathering up your own things for whatever sort of stay you were in for. Behind you, you heard Mando exchange a few more words with the men as they loaded the last of the cargo he’d pushed on them onto the sled.

His heavy footsteps approached you. “I’m going back into town for a while.” You turned, and noticed the pouch of credits that one of the men had shown you earlier clutched in his hand. “Stay here to keep an eye on them and the kid. I’ll be back.”

You stared at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “At least he’s not awake to make me come chasing after you this time.”

You swore you heard a slight snort from beneath that helmet.

He’d returned some time later with Cara Dune in tow, and after rousing the kid the four of you joined the two men on their journey back to their village. The cargo sled, thank the maker, was the only part of the ride, no connections made with another transport like a boat like you were fearing. You didn’t like boats much, the swaying made you anxious. Five people made it a little crowded and awkward, and try as you might to sit as far as you could on some strapped-down cargo, to try and preserve some sense of personal space, you found yourself nearly falling off one too many times.

“That’s a good way to fall off and get left behind.”

You narrowed your eyes as you stared at the beskar-clad man that had basically just talked to you like a parent.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

The way he tilted his head was enough for you to practically see the skeptical look he was no doubt wearing on his hidden face. The kid, sitting beside him, watched you intently.

“Nobody’s doing anything but waiting out the ride.” He pointed to a spot on the cargo just in front of him, where there was definitely enough room for you to fit, though it meant if you tried to stretch your legs out they’d be right alongside his. Clearly, he didn’t care about that if he was doing this.

You stared at the spot like it was a trap. Almost as if to prove a point, the sled went over a particularly pronounced piece of terrain and jostled you. You very nearly fell just like Mando had said you would. The only thing that kept you from going completely overboard was your grip on the cargo’s ties, but you still flopped embarrassingly around. You saw the man’s head tilt to the side as if to say “see?”

Defeated and embarrassed, you clambered down into the open area. Thank the maker Cara Dune had decided to try and get some sleep earlier, and the two farmers transporting you were busy navigating. You didn’t think you could handle having them involved in this, admittedly silly, exchange. You kept your gaze down, not daring to even look up at the Mandalorian. The kid, however, earned himself something between a glare and a smirk when you heard a small giggle come from his direction.

You drew your legs up into your new space, both to keep from invading even more of Mando’s space, and to keep out of the child’s space as well. Mando could handle an accidental kick if you absent-mindedly shuffled; the little green one probably wouldn’t fare so well.

Once you’d settled, you leaned back onto the cargo packed behind you and tried to get as comfortable as you could manage. Which wasn’t much. Mando, however, seemed capable of doing it, as he slowly fell backwards and folded his arms behind his head. You didn’t realize how broad he was until now, seeing up close how much space he took up just by doing that. And all over again, you felt like you were in his space, and needed to get out of it out of respect. But there was nowhere to go.

You had to snort to yourself when the child mimicked the bounty hunter and tipped backwards onto his much-softer surroundings, peering up at the dark sky with equally dark eyes. At least he was content to do that.

The sled ride stretched on for the duration of the night and into the morning, the farmers switching shifts partway through. You’d never really fallen asleep all the way, just dozed in the same position you took when you initially settled in. Your eyes had closed, and you became somewhat less aware of your surroundings, but the slightest of unusual sounds or movements still drew enough attention that you’d crack an eye open to see what was happening. All through the hours of darkness and through the light breaking over the land. So when the sled began to approach the village, you could hear it. The sounds of people working, distant voices. Opening your eyes and pushing yourself upright, you turned to look up ahead. In the distance you could see the beginnings of some sort of settlement.

You shifted your attention to the others on the sled. Cara Dune was still sleeping, though you didn’t know how. Mando and the child seemed to be out, as well. It was harder to tell with the bounty hunter because of his helmet, but the way he laid there was convincing.

Reaching over, you lightly grabbed one of the child’s clawed feet and shook it to get his attention.

“Get up, kiddo.”

He blinked awake, eyes squinting in the morning light and mouth working to remedy having gone dry while he slept with it open the night before. His big eyes shifted around to look for his Mandalorian guardian, body relaxing once he located him.

You weren’t going to try and use touch to see if he was awake, though. That could get you stabbed or shot, what with the combination of his reflexes and waking up in a strange place.

“Mando.” You raised your voice, hoping volume alone would do the trick. Fortunately for you, it did. The man shifted and groaned like he had just come alive, his helmet shifted ever so slightly and you could tell he was looking at you.

“We’re there.”

The armored man slowly drew himself upright into a sitting position. As much as he’d tried to get comfortable, he knew he’d be fighting with a back ache for a while after sleeping like he had. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already dealt with before, with his longer bounty hunts taking him far from his ship and civilization and requiring him to put comfort to the wayside. You, however, had probably not had to relegate yourself to such circumstances. You looked like you hadn’t actually slept, bags present beneath your eyes and a subtle, narrow-eyed scowl he hadn’t seen before on your face. You probably didn’t even know it was there.

The approach to the village was quickly noticed by the villagers, and before you knew it there was a crowd forming to welcome you.

And a lot of them were children.

You could see and hear them immediately. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled through your nose for a moment to steel yourself, both for the crowd and the large percentage of it being so young. You hadn’t even had a chance to really get used to the green child you were tasked with helping out with. And these kids could talk .

The sled came to a stop, the slight jarring motion shaking Cara Dune awake. She looked around, mind working to remember the circumstances that landed her in a strange vehicle with equally strange company.

The first thing the children of the crowd did, was fixate on the child companion of yours in the sled. They were all murmuring and giggling amongst themselves, and the kid looked back at them with equally curious intent. None of you had any idea when he was last around anyone of his mentation.

“Looks like they’re happy to see us.” You heard Mando’s voice crackle through his voice modulator. Cara Dune smiled, but all you could do was blink tiredly. You weren’t ready for this.

One of the children, a girl, broke away from the crowd and got closer to the smaller, green child, greeting him personally. You watched the interaction carefully. She seemed to notice, as she quickly made eye contact and ducked away back into the safety of the other village children.

With that, everyone disembarked the sled and began unloading cargo. You slowly rose from your spot, knees protesting from staying folded for so long and making you grit your teeth. You grabbed the pack you’d brought with you, slinging it over your shoulder and hobbling off of the sled to join the others, who were carrying their respective luggage. The child had been surrounded by the village kids, the curiosity on both sides still strong and outweighing the apprehension of the strangers with him.

It was time to be shown where you’d be staying, though. Without any words exchanged, Mando shuffled over to gather up the child, kids scattering, and you, Cara Dune, and he were led to your accommodations.

The village was modest, but cozy. The huts all had a distinct charm to them, with the same woven look as the common house, and reminding you of fishing baskets. Smoke rose from some, and in the distance you could make out man-made ponds where they likely farmed their krill.

You were all led to what appeared to be a building other than a hut. There’s a woman there, apparently putting the last touches on preparing it for guests. When she sees you approaching, she stops fussing with the blinds and turns to face you. You don’t miss how she’s focused in on the Mandalorian, with some sense of hesitation, like she wasn’t anticipating how meeting a Mandalorian in person would be. You couldn’t blame her, honestly.

“Please, come in.” You let Mando lead, watching him walk in and put his cargo down onto the floor. The woman turned and seemed mildly surprised when you entered as well, like she hadn’t really seen you before when you made your approach. Again, you couldn’t blame her - if you’d never met a Mandalorian before, it would be hard to notice anything else. That, and it made sense that should word get out in the village about a Mandalorian arriving, the last thing anyone would talk about would be his companions.

“I apologize… I didn’t realize how many guests there would be.” She glances briefly at you and the child individually. You began to feel guilty about being there at all. Of the adults that were there, you were by far the least useful for the job involving the raiders, and of the resources available for guests you felt like it would be better to distribute them amongst the others before you. The child, too, you felt deserved things before you did. You didn’t miss him looking up at you with his big dark eyes, as if he could sense your discomfort.

“Is, uh, there anywhere else available—“

“This will be fine.”

You give the beskar-clad man a perplexed look when he cuts you off. You were attempting to give the man his space back, surely he would like that better than having you hole up in the same small building?

“It’s not any different from the ship. We’ll make do.” He was looking back at you through that dark visor as if he had heard your thoughts. You blinked.

“Are you sure?”

The curt nod he gave you told you the conversation was over. Well… as long as he was okay with it.

The woman took that as her cue that she could speak again. “I’ve stacked some blankets over there, I can get more should you need them.” She indicated the area she meant. You nodded appreciatively at her.

There’s a very slight sound from the doorway, and both you and Mando turn to see the girl from before that had been talking to the child. She attempted to hide behind the doorframe, bashful about being noticed, but the woman goes to gently pull her back into sight and gently hold her to her side.

“This is my daughter Winta. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here, she’s not used to strangers.” That explains the extra feeling of being watched you’d felt on top of the village at large watching you, this girl must’ve followed along. The woman turned to face her daughter. “This nice man and his friends are going to help protect us from the bad ones.”

Winta looked shyly at you and Mando, and politely whispered a thank you. The woman took her daughter by the hand, leading her outside. “Come on, Winta, let’s give our guests some space.”

Just like that, you were left alone with your usual companions.

You glanced around, seeing that it was essentially just one open room. That wouldn’t do. Whatever Mando told you, you knew he would appreciate having a space to himself. You, also, would appreciate some semblance of privacy.

Speaking of Mando, he hadn’t moved to unpack at all, he continued to stand in place as he tried to process what he’d gotten himself into. He’d done plenty of jobs, with plenty of clients, but he wasn’t at all used to being treated like a “nice man”, as the woman had put it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fee about it.

His buffering was briefly interrupted when you pushed past him into the barn, and began to root through the blankets that had been left and other supplies that had been pushed off to the side to make space.

“I’m going to build some sort of divide for the room. To at least make it feel like there are two rooms instead of one.” You began draping things over your shoulders and arms as you found them, and looking up at the ceiling and the walls to see what you had to work with. Part of him wanted to tell you to just sit down for now, since he could tell you weren't rested at all from the night before. But he also felt like he wouldn’t be able to stop you from your current activity until you’d finished it. He resigned himself to getting his cargo unpacked.

What he doesn’t know, is you were also trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You had noticed how the woman had briefly paused in the doorway as she left to look back - at Mando, and only Mando. You didn’t know why, but something about it bothered you. Was it a look of apprehension and were you offended on his behalf? No, that wasn’t it. It was some other expression that was subtle and layered and happened too fast for you to read. But it still bothered you. You tried to brush it aside and get to working on your new project instead.

Before long you had constructed a simple set of walls from various things you’d found around - you’d taken some sheets from the pile of blankets, and used them in conjunction with some netting and poles to fix them to the walls and ceilings similar to what you had done with your space back on the Razor Crest. A crib had been provided for the child, and you moved that onto the “half” that you’d designated Mando’s space - the larger section, and the one with the window. Your “half” was more like your “third” of the bar’s interior. Really, you didn’t mind. Mando had been busy unpacking and reconvening with Cara Dune to offer any input until it was done, anyways.

Later in the day, you’d more or less finished unpacking what little you’d brought, and Mando was tending to his rifle. You sat on a crate, idly fussing with the settings on your blaster, musing to yourself if you could possibly bother the bounty hunter in the future for something more substantial.

“Knock, knock.”

The woman from earlier stood at the door with a tray of a few plates of food in hand, her daughter in tow. You could see them, but their attention was turned to Mando and the child, who was standing in his crib. “Come in.” Mando’s voice sounded from beyond the divide in the room.

The woman entered, setting the tray down on a nearby surface and picking up a plate from it. Winta stepped forwards shyly, asking if she could feed the child. Mando wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure.”

You watched from just around the edge of the divide, as the girl first knelt to feed the child, and then asked if she could play with him. Mando seemed just as fond of dealing with kids as you, hearing his sigh and flat “sure” in response. You smirked at that.

Once Mando had set the child on the ground, Winta immediately darted out the doorway with the child in tow. Mando started to protest, but the woman held him back. You didn’t know why, it was such a simple thing and she was coming from a place of experience where he had none, but for some reason… it made you bristle slightly. You felt like she was overstepping her bounds somehow. You shook your head briefly. She didn’t know any better, it was fine.

The woman then reached for one of the plates of food, to set on a surface closer to where Mando had been maintaining his rifle. “I brought you some food, I noticed you didn’t eat out there. I’ll leave it here for when I go.” Mando awkwardly thanked her, and moved to turn away.

You were hoping she would leave, then, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked if she could ask Mando a question. With his approval, she continued.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken that off?”

Oh, the helmet question. That was bound to happen sooner or later, honestly. You hoped she didn’t say anything too intrusive or insensitive.

“Yesterday.”

“I mean in front of someone else.”

The air felt heavy. You couldn’t quite see from your position where he was looking, but you saw him motion through the window towards what might have been the child and Winta, and other children based on the sounds of play you could hear.

“I wasn’t much older than they are.”

The woman sounded almost horrified that he hadn’t shown his face to anyone since then. The bounty hunter protested, saying that after his parents had been killed, the Mandalorians had taken him in and cared for him as their own.

It’s not like you knew what his past was, or what you expected it to be, but hearing it like this was like a punch to the gut. It was a horrible thing for him to have gone through at all, let alone as a child. You arguably had only just been getting to know him, but the fact that this woman he had never met before was able to get this fact out of him at all, let alone such a personal fact, stung. He had told you earlier that he’d trusted you. That should’ve been enough, and should’ve stopped you from having your thoughts run loose like they were.

“...I’m sorry.” The woman sounded genuinely sad.

“This is the way.”

“Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

Finally, she left. It did not escape you, though, that she hadn’t stopped to see if you had been there to let you know that she had brought you some food, as well, as you also had not left to go get food since arriving. That hurt a little bit, but with the way the prior exchange had gone it probably just slipped her mind. It wasn’t her fault. She was being a good host, she still brought it, didn’t she? You could swear, though, that she seemed to feel some sort of draw towards the bounty hunter and was acting on it in small ways. And you could not figure out why it bothered you.

Once she had left completely, you quietly crept out from behind the divide to retrieve your own plate. Mando was still standing before the window, watching the kids playing with the child. The woman now approached the crowd, no doubt to supervise and make sure they weren’t being too rough. You felt his eyes turn to you slightly.

“I uh… I’m sorry. About what happened in your past. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t not hear that part.”

Mando inclined his head for a moment, and then looked back up at you. “It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have told you if it had come up.”

That lifted your mood a bit. Plate in hand, you wandered over to stand before the window, not too close but beside where Mando stood, to watch the kids.

“Looks like he’s having fun.” Mando hummed in agreement, arms folded.

You don’t notice, but the Mandalorian had turned his head ever so slightly to look at you without giving away that that’s what he was doing. He’s usually not the best at reading people, but he could tell that something about the interaction he had just had with the woman had upset you somehow - he also had not missed how she had left after speaking with him and hadn’t tried to see if you were around to speak to you, as well. This was a different kind of upset than what he had seen when you were first on his ship, after your home had been destroyed. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like this now. He realized didn’t like seeing you upset, or to be linked to the reason you were upset.

The two of you stood there for a few more moments, watching the villagers and the child play. You cleared your throat.

“Well, I still don’t like eating around others. I’m going to my ‘room’.” Mando felt a small smile flicker on his face at that, as you left and went back to your area.

Once you were there, you had been about to pick up a piece of the food when you heard the tell-tale sound of Mando’s helmet being removed. You didn’t know if it was the closer proximity or the conversation that had just happened, but you retreated even further into your area until you were as far away as possible, like somehow even being too close while his helmet was off was just as bad as seeing his face.

The job turned out to be much more complicated than any of you had thought. Surveying the woods showed that the raiders were in possession of an Imperial AT-ST, a formidable weapon to have even against trained troops, let alone a defenseless krill farm. Cara Dune was especially off-put by it, having seen the mech in action and barely escaping to tell the tale. Mando, blunt as ever, tried to tell the village’s occupants to just leave and find another place on the planet to farm, but that went over horribly - everyone was angry, saying that he’d agreed to the job and that he should keep to it, that they had lived there for generations and it took so long to even get the farm established, and so on. They insisted they could be taught to fight and help take on the raiders, stubborn in not wanting to leave their homes. Somehow, their desperation won over the bounty hunter and ex-shock trooper, and it was decided that the entire village of twenty-odd people would follow Cara Dune’s instructions to modify the village grounds into a battleground to take down the machine, and the raiders in turn.

The biggest hurdle was teaching the villagers how to fight to begin with. Nobody knew how to deal with hand-to-hand combat. None of them - except the woman, whose name was Omera - knew how to fire a blaster.

That also meant that Mando’s entire arsenal he’d brought along with him would be put to use arming everyone.

While Cara Dune was working with melee training her half of the adults, Mando was overseeing the target practice. You were more familiar with firing a blaster than you were with physical fighting, so you were attempting to help in that department, as well. You had certainly fired off your fair share of one-in-a-million hits in the times you’d even had to use your blaster, but you had no idea how you were able to do it. It was just… an instinct, somehow, that kicked in right at the moment it was needed, and would vanish just as quickly before you could even try to comprehend it. Still, though, you could try.

They were terrible.

Shots were flying and only a small fraction were landing anywhere, and of those, even less were hitting their intended targets. Except for Omera. Every shot she fired landed square in the middle of her target, one after the other. You could see Mando watching her closely, nodding when she turned to look expectantly at him with a slight smile.

It makes you grit your teeth and you don’t know why. He’s allowed to be impressed by someone from a backwater planet being good with a blaster. He was allowed to be impressed by her tenacity to defend her village. He was allowed… and whatever this strange feeling was that you had, wasn’t allowed to get in the way. That was up to him.

You had been walking between the villagers, giving them pointers on how to better aim, but once you’d noticed what you had with the widow and Mando, something shifted in you. And unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching you, probably more than he had been watching Omera. Your eerie accuracy with your own blaster when you fired off and hit the targets, the way you went from person to person to curtly correct their poise, the way your eyes flashed as you stood back and looked from trainee to trainee with a calculating, concentrated look to determine who needed fixing where. This was a new side of you he hadn’t seen. It was intimidating… but in a good way. He caught himself being confused by his own thoughts, and reminded himself sternly that he needed to concentrate on training everyone and getting things ready.

That night, the plan would be executed. Luring the raiders out, having the villagers go hand-to-hand with the raiders while Mando and Cara Dune took care of downing the AT-ST. You hoped it would work.

In the weeks following the successful defeat of the raiders and destruction of their AT-ST, you stayed put in the village. You and Mando and the kid didn't have anywhere better to be, and Mando still stood by it being a good place for waiting out the hunt going on for the kid. Unlike Mando, though, you didn't feel completely safe. You still felt like it was only a matter of time before someone came looking. The raiders didn't all get killed, and though they probably hadn't laid eyes on the child, let alone the village's children in general, it would have been difficult for them to miss the beskar-clad man that they went up against. Word was going to get out.

Mando wasn't convinced. There was nothing besides your sense of unease to indicate that sort of thing would happen, and he needed more substance than that to act. And so, you were stuck there for the time being.

So you tried to make do with living during that time.

Mando spent his time being the quiet watchman of the village, keeping his weapons he'd brought along in top condition just in case. It couldn't hurt to stay vigilant. And it helped you be more at ease to know he hadn't completely shrugged off the possibility of danger.

And when he wasn't cleaning his weapons for the millionth time, or making sure the child wasn't getting into too much trouble with the village children, he was watching you.

He noticed the way you'd go sit out at the far edge of the village clearing, by the edge of the water beneath the shade of the trees, scribbling things in the odd flimsiplast book you'd brought along with you. He got curious one day and wandered over to where you were, making the excuse that he was patrolling the perimeter and just happened to be passing by you on his way. He got to see what it was you were doing - you were sketching the huts and ponds, as well as the trees and animals, making notes beside them. You didn't limit your note-taking to sitting out on the edge of the village, either, sometimes you stayed amongst the buildings and watched the locals and made notes about them.

There were more than a few times that the child would break away from the village kids and watch you, too, and there were times you'd tear a page out and let him scribble on it alongside you. It was endearing to watch, though he'd never admit it, how intensely focused the little one would be on mimicking you during those times. He saw you do your best to be social when the rest of the kids would inevitably crowd around the two of you and watch what you were doing, and begin asking questions. They did that to him, too, with his weapons, and he would try to tell them stories he remembered hearing as a child himself. You didn't seem to tell them stories, so much as just facts about how this or that worked, or how things are different on other planets in this or that way. They still seemed to take it in just as well.

When you weren't note-taking, or trying to avoid being swarmed by curious children, you'd be in the village kitchens, taking advantage of having proper cooking facilities outside of the makeshift space on the Razor Crest and trying out local ingredients and recipes. The child was frequently your taste-tester, and he loved every bit of it. There were times that he'd take a bite of something you'd made, and instead of downing the rest of it, he'd look around for Mando, and upon spotting him he'd hurry over with the food in hand, waving it up at him as if to say "try it". He would, of course, wait until he was in the privacy of his own space, but he'd always try it. He had to admit, though he knew the locals had been working with the ingredients for generations and were by no means bad cooks, there was something about your cooking that he liked better. He knew you'd brought along some of your own spices and that you put your own spin on things, but it was deeper than that and he didn't know why.

He notices that though you try to converse with the locals when appropriate, you frequently retreat to be in his presence and just sit quietly. It starts as you just going back to the barn and him happening to also be there, but over time it evolved into you actively seeking him out in moments where he was apart from the others, wherever that may have been. It was… nice.

It was also nice that, on some nights where neither of you could sleep, you would wind up quietly talking about this or that through the makeshift wall in the barn that divided your sleeping areas. The conversations were about mundane things, never lasted long, and were always quiet because of the sleeping child nearby. But it was a new thing for him that he found he liked. For so long he had traveled alone and in complete silence, and while there was still a degree of silence and separation between the two of you, it was different.

The villagers seemed to act like you would just stay there forever. Names were learned, bits and pieces of life stories were swapped, some degree of familiarity was established.

There was absolutely no way anyone could miss how attentive Omera had become to ensuring you all were still tended to, but especially in regards to Mando. He was civil in return, and you swear he had started to open up to her and go beyond just being polite. You, also, did your best to be civil towards her, but it was difficult for some reason. It was not your place to decide who was allowed to be friends with who, or how they responded to such actions. Not your place to feel put off by another person getting close to arguably the only person you knew beyond vague acquaintance-ship.

And this didn’t just feel like someone building a friendship, either. You did not know why it bothered you as much as it did. But here you were.

One day, you, Mando, and Cara Dune were all on the porch of the barn, lounging for lack of a better word. Cara Dune sat reclined in a chair, you on the edge of the porch, and Mando casually leaned back against the wall of the barn. He looked very relaxed and it took you a little more effort than normal not to just stare at the rare sight.

And then Omera appeared.

She had been in the barn doing some tidying up, as hosts do. As she exited, she handed a cup of spotchka to Cara Dune, who thanked her, and then she turned to Mando.

“Can I set you something in the house?” She briefly turned her vision towards you, to indicate the offer was extended to you as well, but it went right back to the bounty hunter before you could answer.

“Uh… thank you. Maybe later.” He mumbled his answer, awkward as ever. The woman looked back at you, and you shook your head to her offer, not daring to try and open your mouth. She seemed satisfied with that, and turned to watch the village children playing with the child. He’d captured a frog, and wasted no time in stuffing it into his mouth and trying to swallow it like a vine snake. The children laughed and groaned in amused disgust. The frog turned out to be too big for the little one and he spat it out, and everyone cackled as the frog hopped away, no doubt startled by nearly being eaten.

“He’s very happy here.” Omera’s voice broke the silence on the porch.

“He is.” The bounty hunter’s voice responded.

“Fits right in.” And with that, the widow walked away. You watched her leave with narrowly-disguised distaste on your face. The kid was still a target for all you knew, and that little comment implying he should continue to stay just made you realize how little they understood about the consequences that could come their way should the hunters find him. Being able to actually be a child was good, yes, but not at the expense of having another event similar to the raiders, one they wouldn’t have time to plan for.

Apparently, Cara Dune had some thoughts of her own.

“So what happens if you take that thing off?” She nodded at Mando, indicating his helmet. “They come after you and kill you?”

Your distaste turned to her next.

“No, you just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara scoffed at his answer. She looked at you to see if you thought it was as ridiculous as she did, a smirk on her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, and her smirk faded a bit. You’d known, and you respected his cultural beliefs not to badger him like she was trying to do.

“I was gonna say, if that’s it, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all for you to just slip it off and take up living here, raising the kid and sipping spotchka.” She motioned in the direction Omera had left with her glass.

“The beautiful young widow would be more than happy to help with that.” She looked back at you. “Am I right?”

Your skin felt like it would scramble right off your body.

Somehow, hearing Cara Dune confirm that she, too, had seen Omera’s interest in Mando made it all too real in your mind. And she wouldn’t be making such comments if she didn’t think Mando had similar feelings, either.

Why did it bother you so much?

You heard your name, realizing she was actually waiting for an answer from you.

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice was quiet and clipped, a poor attempt to keep your feelings veiled. Cara Dune finally noticed your tense posture, the discomfort very apparent in the line of conversation she’d started up.

She immediately regretted her teasing about the widow. Unlike you and Mando, she was actually able to read people. Mando may have been oblivious to it, but she could see now that you were more fond of the bounty hunter than she initially thought. She’d sensed some sort of dislike towards Omera from you, with how brief you kept your interactions with her, but this made it make sense. Kriff, you were probably oblivious to it, too.

Mando’s modulated voice brought her back to the present. “You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks ago. It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. You might wanna cycle the charts and move on.”

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes. “Finally.” You’d only been trying to convince him to do that the moment you’d chased the raiders off. “I thought it was going to take bounty hunters actually showing up to get you to make that decision.”

You swiveled where you sat to look at the man pointedly. He shook his head lightly. You could almost hear the good-natured smirk under his helmet. You couldn’t help but quirk the corner of your mouth yourself.

As forward as Omera was with hinting her interest towards Mando, Cara Dune thought, you weren’t too bad of a companion choice for him, either. You might not be the worse of the two, either, as far as the dynamic between you. As long as the buckethead wasn’t alone.

She looked back to where the kids were all playing. “I wouldn’t want to be the one who’s gotta tell him that it’s time to leave.”

“I’m leaving him here.”

You and Cara Dune stared at him.

“Traveling with me… that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe. Better chance at a life here.”

No. You weren’t going to let him decide that easily.

“Mando. Do I need to remind you that the kid is being hunted as much as you are?” He started to protest, but you continued, standing up from your seat to face him fully, crossing your arms. “And, like you said, the fight with the raiders will have drawn attention. We sure didn’t kill them all, some got away. ‘Word travels fast’.”

Mando stared back, at a loss for words, and looked to Cara Dune for backup. She only shrugged, indicating you had a point.

“...if anyone was going to come, they would have done so by now.”

You dropped your arms to your sides, an incredulous expression on your face. Really? Really?

“Mando-”

He held up his hand to stop you. Such a simple motion shocked you enough to derail your thoughts. He really wasn’t changing his mind, was he…? Was he that ready to leave the kid behind?

Was he that ready to be rid of you …?

Leaving the child here meant your current “job” would no longer exist. It meant having to figure out where to go next, how to start next.

You weren’t ready for that.

You looked down at the wood flooring of the porch. You couldn’t figure out how to argue back in a way that didn’t sound selfish. Defeated, you turned away from the beskar-clad man and faced away, looking at the children playing again.

Mando truly felt like this was the best option for the child at this point. He wasn’t anywhere near an acceptable parental figure, and per your own admission you didn’t do well with kids, either. The kid needed other kids to be around, adults that were willing and happy to raise him. You needed to be able to actually settle down somewhere you could rebuild. This tiny village, with its lack of technology, wasn’t it, and it wasn’t on his cramped ship with his stubborn self, either. You deserved better. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid, or to you, but it wasn’t about what he wanted.

The three of you solemnly watched the child play with the other village children.

“It’s gonna break his little heart.” Cara Dune muttered.

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

You didn’t want to agree with him, on that last line. But he was right.

Everyone had finished packing, all that was needed was for it to be loaded onto the cargo sled. The air felt weighted, and it wasn’t from the humidity of the surrounding swamp.

For you, the air got even more oppressive when you saw Mando approach Omera and lead her slightly away from the others to speak to her. You knew he was just asking her to watch after the child. But you could see the way she was looking at him. You could see Mando fidgeting, almost shyly. You could feel your face get tingly. Why was this so hard for you? It wasn’t about you.

You couldn’t hear the exchange, but you could tell Omera was saying something back at him, and the way her expression changed, you almost felt like she was asking him to stay, too.

But then, pulling you from your wallowing in self-pity, you felt the same thing you’d felt back at your old home, just before the bounty hunters broke through and your life as you knew it ended. The intense, physical feeling of wrong, of something in your head thrashing about telling you to run. Telling you to grab the kid and run.

They were here.

You sprinted towards where the village kids were, focusing in on the child, drawing your blaster.

"Mando!”

Whatever had been happening between Mando and Omera was forgotten, the widow spinning around to see what the shouting was, and Mando falling into a defensive stance, hand going to his blaster handle.

Your timing couldn't have been better. As you skidded to your knees to grab the frightened child, the village children scattering in confusion and fear, blaster fire rang out and a scorched blast marked the earth right where he had been sitting. You ran in a crouch to hide behind the nearest barrier you could get to, in this case some of the cargo that had yet to be loaded. The child whimpered and clutched at your clothing, and you clutched him closer, blaster raised in your other hand in case you needed to peek around and return fire.

You heard chatter from the other adults, and peering around the corner of the cargo, you see Cara Dune and Mando rush off int the trees. Omera is quickly herding the children to safety. You stay where you are, slumping against the back of the cargo, knowing Mando won't let whoever's out there get away. You look down at the kid in your grasp, who is looking back up at you with those dark eyes you'd gotten used to.

"I told him it wasn't safe here."

Just as you had warned him, the shots had come from someone carrying a tracking fob for the child. Cara Dune had seen to the demise of the hunter, and the tracking fob was destroyed. If it had been a different situation, you would have been more smug about being right.

But as it currently stood, you needed to get out of there as soon as you could.

The cargo sled was fully loaded, with additional supplies beyond what you’d brought with you, and the child was seated up where he could see out. You sat close by, not wanting to chance having to make a dive for him again. You hadn’t anticipated being so protective, but here you were. The village gathered around to see you off. Cara Dune offered to escort you back, but the decision was made to completely bypass going through town and just go straight to the Razor Crest. For once, you agreed with this decision.

“Well then, until our paths cross.” the two exchanged a firm handshake. She looked back and nodded at you, and you returned it with a raised hand. It was good to know you had an ally out there now.

You’d anticipated leaving by then, but when Winta rushed forward you had to suppress a groan. You were so ready to leave behind the other kids and yet here they were again, prolonging the goodbye process. With little regard for any sense of personal space, she wrapped her arms around the child in a hug. You leaned away a little to give them room. You didn’t expect her to release the child and give you a hug, too.

“I’ll miss you so much.”

You were frozen, your mind having drawn a blank and your body unsure of what to do. It took you a few moments to regain your senses, and you awkwardly put your hands on her shoulders.

“Uh… us too.” She pulled back and gave you both a shy smile, and scampered away back to stand by her mother.

Omera smiled and nodded at you in farewell. You tried to do the same, but you couldn’t guarantee your smile looked anything other than awkward and forced. You were terrible at this.

“Thank you.”

Mando nodded at her as well, and finally, he boarded the sled, and you left the small village.

It was strange, you’d only been on the Razor Crest for a few days before the stay on Sorgan happened and took up the following few weeks of your life, but somehow the ship felt more like home than the village had.

The three of you all sat in the cockpit area of the ship, Mando at the controls, you sitting in one of the chairs with the child in your lap, you idly letting him mess with your hands.

Now that it was just you three, your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“So, Mando… what was Omera saying to you before the bounty hunter attacked?”

Mando flipped a few more switches and dials on the controls and sat back in his chair. “She was suggesting we stay, too.” You mean she was suggesting you stay, you thought to yourself.

“...if the hunter didn’t show, would you have?”

He turned to look at you. “Would you?”

You huffed. “I liked being in the trees, but… too remote for my taste. Too closely packed. Too many kids trying to see what I was doing.” Too much of Omera trying to be friendly with the Mandalorian. You didn’t say that part, though.

He turned back to face the windscreen. “If I had wanted to settle down somewhere, I would have done it years ago.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m not interested in living the sedentary family life.”

Somehow hearing him say that took a huge weight off your mind. But that still didn’t answer the selfish, nagging question you still had.

“Did you like her?” You still didn’t know why you cared so much. But while your courage was up and you were on this train, you had to get it out. Mando’s head tilted in your direction slightly.

“She was… nice. But I don’t think I liked her at all the way she liked me.” He turned back to look at the expanse of space before the ship. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was glad that you all got out of there before he had to tell her that. He wasn’t as oblivious as some thought, he could definitely tell that the widow was harboring some kind of affection towards him. He just didn’t feel the same way back, though. He never did. Besides, even if he did, his idea of how to live was so different from hers that it just wouldn’t work. Living on a farm, having and raising kids, staying in one place? Absolutely not.

You looked down at the child in your lap, tugging on his claws that clutched your fingers, trying to hide the little smile of relief on your face. He perked his ears at you and babbled, seeming to sense you weren’t as weighed down as before.

“You could’ve been free to go start your infochanting back up somewhere, though.” You looked up, a little surprised at the slightly quieter tone to Mando’s voice.

He had come to appreciate your company, but he wasn’t about to directly admit it.

You shook your head and huffed. “Honestly? I don’t mind.”

You looked back down at the kid, gently grabbing the ends of his long ears and fussing with them, making him squeal.

“I’m kind of glad to be back on this bucket of bolts with you.”

You hadn’t made any indication of it, but Mando liked to think you were talking to him just then, and not just the child. Hearing those words stirred something in his chest, and though he couldn’t pin down what it was, he wouldn’t mind feeling it again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #din djarin #mando #reader insert

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headfulloffantasies · 4 years ago

Text

Legacy Returning

Din Djarin is not fit to be the Mand’alor. He runs from the responsibility and more specifically from Bo-Katan.

Ao3

Legacy Returning

Din received a hail while he was flying between planets on the Outer Rim. He opened the hail without thinking, expecting Karga or Cara with a new bounty.

Bo Katan’s face flickered through the hologram. Din dove for the disengage button.

“Din Djarin.”

Too late.

Din slumped in his seat. He had come to hate that stupid headband so much. “I’m not fighting you for the Darksaber,” he cut right to the chase.

Bo Katan pressed her lips together in a frown. “If you will not face me in combat then you must return to Mandalore and begin reparations.”

Din had never stepped foot on Mandalore. It was hard to return to a place you’d never been.

“No thank you,” he said. He reached out to end the call.

“Consider your fellow vod,” Bo Katan said.

Vod. Brothers. Din had no brothers. His covert had been destroyed. He had broken his Creed. He had no one but the foundling he’d given away.

“Mandalore needs its leader,” Bo Katan pleaded.

“That’s not me,” Din said. “If you want the Darksaber, I’m throwing it in the nearest supernova.”

He hung up.

Din arrived on Tatooine at Peli’s shop. She came out of her office wiping her hands on a rag. “Where’s the little womp rat?” She asked in place of a greeting.

Din swallowed hard. “He’s with his kind,” he said.

Peli’s face fell. “Well, next time you have him, bring him this way. I like the little guy.”

Din smiled under his helmet.

“I need some help,” he admitted.

Peli came over and banged a fist on the side of his new ship. “Doesn’t look too bad. Better than your old rust heap.”

“Not with the ship,” Din said. “I need someplace to hide.”

Peli turned on him with a finger pointed in his face. “I know you’re a good person under that bucket, Mando, but if you bring trouble to Mos Eisley I won’t forgive you.”

“Noted,” Din nodded.

Peli dropped the offending finger. “So, what kind of trouble are you in now?”

Din sighed loud enough that it crackled through his helmet. “I accidentally became ruler of Mandalore.”

Peli blinked. She burst out laughing. “You? You can barely take care of the kid!”

Din bristled at that. He’d done excellent with Grogu. He’d found the Jedi for him, hadn’t he?

“Do you know of anywhere I can lay low?” He asked.

Peli shrugged. “People come to Tatooine to disappear all the time. You might want to ask the new crime lord at the Hutt Palace if you’re looking for work.”

Din startled. “There’s a new crime lord?”

Peli waved her hands. “Regimes fall every day. Do I look like a newswave?”

Din thanked her and decided he’d make his way to the Hutt Palace. Work was good. It would keep him occupied until he could figure out his next move.

At the Palace a pretty girl led Din down the stone steps to the throne room. Din’s footsteps echoed in the quiet halls.

They rounded the corner. A throne sat on a raised platform. Din let out a soft curse. “Boba Fett?”

The green helmeted Mandalorian leaped off his throne. “Mando! I thought you’d been killed by that kriffing Mandalorian princess.”

“Not yet,” Din extended his hand. They clasped vambraces. Fennec appeared from behind the throne, carrying a bottle of blue spotchka.

“Nice to see you again,” she smirked.

“What can I do for you, my friend?” Boba asked.

“A job, if you have any,” Din answered. “A hiding place, if not.”

Boba exchanged a glance with Fennec. “You’re running from Bo Katan?”

Din sighed. The sound came from the depths of his very core. “She’s decided if she can’t beat me, she’ll join me.”

“Which means what?” Boba asked.

“She’s trying to put me on the throne of Mandalore,” Din explained.

There was a beat of silence. Boba Fett burst into laughter. The sound bounced off the stone walls. Fennec tried her best, but her smile broke into giggles. Fett bent over and braced himself on his knees while he caught his breath.

“That girl has no taste,” Boba Fett said.

Din wasn’t sure if he should be offended.

Boba sent Din on a task to collect a wayward dealer who’d skimmed some money off the top of Boba’s operation.

“She’s way out in the Dune Sea,” Boba said. “That should be far enough away from Bo Katan.”

Din borrowed Peli’s speeder and set out. As he rode into the sweltering heat of the desert Din reflected on his friends’ reactions to his supposed rulership. No one thought he could do it. Kriff, even Din didn’t think he should be the Mand’alor, but some support would be nice. He definitely could not accept the throne, though. He was dar’manda; he’d lost his Way. He couldn’t lead Mandalore. Especially when he’d come to understand that most Mandalorians did not in fact follow the Way. He should just accept Bo Katan’s challenge and let her have the stupid Darksaber. Kriff, what a stupid system to have a laser sword determine the right to rule. What if it got stolen?

Din arrived at the coordinates Boba Fett had given him. Amid the towering rocks jutting out of the sand Din found a cave. It seemed like the place a normal species would take cover from the suns.

Din stepped into the shade. His visor adjusted to the dimness. A blanket, a dead firepit and a mess of used ration wrappers strewed on the ground. And- was that? Yep. That was a bomb.

Din came to with his ears ringing. He blinked through his visor. Twin suns pierced his vison. He took a breath.

Dank Farrik, that hurt. He ground his teeth against the wave of pain. When it faded enough to manage, Din took stock. It didn’t feel like any shrapnel had pierced his skin. At most, his head hurt. And his ribs under the chest plate.

Gingerly, Din sat up. Smoke billowed out of the cave. The blast had obviously thrown him backwards into the sand. It would take days to clean all the grit from his armour.

A shadow fell over him. Din looked up, a hand on his blaster.

“Dank Farrik,” he hissed. Blue Mandalorian armour filled his vision.

Bo Katan lifted her helmet. Behind her, Kaska Reeves held the collar of Din’s bounty.

Din wobbled to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Bo Katan had the audacity to look shocked. “I’m here to speak to you. You are the Mand’alor.”

“No.” Din unclipped the Darksaber from his belt. Bo Katana stiffened. Din drew back his arm and pitched the Darksaber as far as he could. He nearly toppled over. The Darksaber winked in the light of the twin suns and vanished into the desert.

Bo Katan made a sound like a choked loth cat. Din did not care. He stomped over to Kaska Reeves and snatched his bounty from her.

“Wait,” she said. “She has to stand trial for trying to assassinate the Mand’alor.”

“No,” Din repeated. He tossed his bounty over his speeder and took off. Bo Katan yelled after him. Probably something about disrespecting his cultural heritage. Din still didn’t care.

Boba Fett took one look at Din at decided he needed a drink. Din agreed, but he’d prefer to drink alone. Besides, any planet with Bo Katan on it was not a planet he could stay on.

Din stayed one step ahead of Bo Katan for longer than he actually expected. Say you want about the princess, but she was competent and crafty. She managed to lure him to a backwater swamp with a fake bounty puck.

“I don’t want it,” Din said. Bo Katan held out the Darksaber to him imploringly. She must have spent hours cleaning the sand from its mechanisms.

Din sighed. “Do you want to arm wrestle for it? Would that work?”

Bo Katan’s eyebrows creased. “The Darksaber must be won in combat.”

Din sagged. He was so very tired of people telling him things he didn’t understand.

“I don’t know anything about it,” Din explained. “I don’t know how it works.”

He meant it as an excuse to pass the light sword along to her, but Bo Katan took it as an invitation to recite the Darksaber’s history.

It was… a lot.

Din latched onto one very important detail. “So, it hasn’t always been a symbol of the Mand’alor.”

Bo Katan faltered. “Well, no, but-.”

“And it was stolen from the Jedi,” Din said.

“Yes. But it was Mandalorian first,” Bo Katan emphasised. “The Jedi had no right-.”

“So, it actually belongs to the Jedi,” Din finished his train of thought.

He swiped the Darksaber from Bo Katan’s lax grip. He whipped around and ran up the ramp of his ship.

Bo Katan yelled after him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m giving it back to the Jedi,” Din shouted back. Glowing satisfaction filled his chest at the strangled noise Bo Katan made.

The best part was that he had an actual excuse to go see Grogu. Usually, he showed up to the Jedi academy with a half baked defense about protecting the children or something. Luke humored him, for which Din was eternally grateful. It wouldn’t do to have to kneecap his son’s teacher.

Din knew Luke was dramatic. The man wore a cape. Din did not wear a cape; it was a cloak and it was different. Capes were for dramatic entrances. This time though, Din thought Luke had taken the cake. Upon being presented with the Darksaber, Luke had vaulted into a tree and refused to come down.

“It belongs to the Jedi!” Din shouted up at Luke. He could just see his pale blond hair through the thick foliage.

“I want nothing to do with that thing!” Luke shot back.

Fine. Din could play dirty then. “Isn’t your sister Force sensitive? Does she need a laser sword?”

“Do not give the Death Saber to my sister!” Luke hissed.

Din did not move from his position of holding the Darksaber up towards Luke. He realised he looked much like Bo Katan had when she offered Din the sword. Kriff, why was she only person in the galaxy who wanted it but wouldn’t take it?

“Do any of your other students need a weapon?” Din suggested. He perked up. “What about Grogu? How long until he gets a sword? I can hold onto it for him until he’s ready.”

Luke sobbed.

Rude. Din thought it was a great idea. “It’ll be like a family heirloom.”

“I will murder you in your sleep,” Luke mumbled in the tree. “I will smother you with your pillow.”

Good luck with that. Din wore the helmet to sleep while he visited the academy. He’d had a close call with curious children the first time he’d come to see Grogu. Force users had no regard for locks that couldn’t stop them.

Anyways, Luke could not stay in that tree forever. Luke seemed to realise this too. He finally dropped back to ground level with surprising grace. He had a leaf stuck in his hair. It made him look much younger.

“That thing,” Luke jabbed a finger at the Darksaber. “Has been used to destroy the Jedi. It has no place here.”

Din looked down at the blade. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “It’s just a thing. An object. But everyone acts like it has a will and a destiny. It’s a tool. Tools don’t care what you use them for; they don’t know the difference between good and evil.”

Din had Luke’s full attention. It was a bit daunting. Din swallowed. “Instead of giving more power to the stories of evil deeds, why don’t you use it for good? Reclaim its legacy.”

Luke squinted at him. “You’re a very clever man, Din Djarin. And a very tricky one.”

At least someone thought so.

“Does that mean you’ll take it?” Din extended the Darksaber again.

Luke hesitated. “I think,” Luke said slowly. “That you should be the one to reclaim the Darksaber’s legacy. The Force is working very strongly around you, Din Djarin.”

Din sagged. “I don’t want to be the Mand’alor.”

“Then don’t,” Luke said.

Din’s gaze snapped up to the Jedi.

Luke shrugged. “Part of the Darksaber’s dark legacy is the bloody war for the throne of Mandalore. If you hold the Darksaber but refuse to claim Mandalore then the Mandalorians will have to come up another system to choose their leader.”

Din narrowed his eyes. Luke had a devious mind. It might just work.

“You want me to spend the rest of my life defending the Darksaber from would be assassins and someday die a natural death without ever being defeated?”

Luke shrugged. “Something like that.” He grinned. “You’re doing great so far.”

Din resolutely did not mention he’d been blown up earlier that month.

Din clipped the Darksaber to his belt. “Fine. But if anybody calls me a Jedi, I’m bringing the sword right back here and burying it forever.”

END

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engineeredfiction · 4 years ago

Text

A Stranger In the Galaxy Ch. 1

I took a bit longer on this because I was still trying to make up my mind if this should be a reader insert or an OC. Womp womp.

Rating is Teen for prologue and chapter 1 of part 1, which is also out! It will definitely change if you know what I mean. (nudge nudge wink wink)

Word count: 1.2k (it's a short one, chapter 2 is a chonker though)

Warnings: I didn’t edit this. Soz.

This AU is a crossover of Star Wars, Dune, and my own imagination. If you know/read the Dune series you’ll see similarities between the Sisterhood in this story and the one in Dune. Some are the same and even more modified. I can do what I want, it’s my world building.

Prologue

Part 1: The Way To Mandalore

Chapter 1: Dangerous Quarry

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Mando drummed his fingers on his thigh plate. Greef Karga told him to come in at this time and the man hasn’t shown up.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He closed his eyes behind his helmet and his mind drifted elsewhere. He has no ship, no Grogu, and the tension between him and Bo-Katan Kryze was dangerously high. His thumb involuntarily ran across the hilt of the Darksaber. The weight of responsibility and history made the weapon heavier than what it actually weighed. If he had known about about it before capturing Moff Gideon, we would have grabbed Bo-Katan-

“Mando!” Greef’s voice pulled him back to the present. “I am sorry to keep you waiting. Clients keep me on my toes-”

“What’s the job?” Mando bluntly asked.

“Down to business as always,” Greef grinned. To his side he grabbed a glass and the bottle of spotchka. “I would offer you some, but I already know the answer.” He threw back his glass and exhaled loudly. “How’s the loaner working for you? Is she in good shape for another hunt?”

Mando thought about the beat up light gunship, Gida. It was older than he was, probably older than Greef. Yet, it ran better than the Razor Crest, most of the time. “She’s good. How many quarries do you have for me?”

Greef stopped mid pour of this second glass of spotchka. He hesitated, “One.”

“Is the work that slow?” Mando drawed out. He wanted his own ship and it seemed he would not get it any time soon.

Greef sipped his glass this time. “No, business has been steady. This bounty is the price of many.”

Mando didn’t respond.

“The quarry...doesn’t have one client. There are two who are asking for her. A New Republic science officer Lieutenant Kell Finnall, currently on Coruscant, he is offering four hundred thousand credits.” Mando’s entire body froze stiff. Greef could see that the air was sucked out of Mando’s lungs. “Tauris Security out on Lantillies, you’ve heard of them? They’re looking for the same person. They’re offering four hundred fifty thousand credits. Their first offer was considerably lower, I told them they had some competition. Well, they made a call a few minutes ago and raised it.”

“Why so high?” Mando breathed again. He was hesitant to know why, the last time he took on a high bounty he gained a son and became an enemy of the Empire.

“They didn’t give me the details. Uh, they both want the quarry unharmed and alive. No carbonite. The Republic officer did mention she could use deadly force, I’m sure nothing you can’t handle. But Tauris Security insisted she was extremely dangerous and had killed two of their guards.” Greef waited for a response that would never come. He pulled the puck out of his pocket as if it were delicate. “Apparently never had a chain code before...before coming across Finnall.” He pushed the puck towards Mando. “Now to decide where the quarry should go. New Republic or this company.”

“Never heard of Tauris Security. You have anything on them?”

“Not much. Just provide security details in the mid and outer rim. It’s legit.”

Mando cracked his knuckles and proposed his idea, “The bounty combined with the warning is interesting. She is either extremely dangerous or valuable.”

“Or both,” Greef interjected. He poured a third glass of spotchka. “I insist you take this quarry. I don’t trust anyone else. And the credits! For you! For me! You would be set for life and then some, a new ship, perhaps a home on Naboo? Now the choice, New Republic or Tauris? I’ll leave that up to you. Visit each of them first before you make your choice.”

Mando bit his tongue softly. His instincts told him to be cautious, but it didn’t give him fear. If this quarry is as dangerous as people are saying and I die, what of it? His mouth dried up and his stomach churned, but it excited him. The thrill and allure of danger and possible death gave him energy, life.

“I’ll take it, “ Mando stretched out his hand for the puck.

Greef slowly handed it over to him. “I would wish you good luck, but I know you don’t need it. Remember, keep her alive and safe-”

“-and no carbonite,” Mando repeated the requirement from earlier. He started to leave but Greef’s parting words stopped him.

“And Mando, come back and-” Greef stopped himself from mentioning The Kid, “we’ll have a drink to celebrate your success.”

The streets of Nevarro City were just as pleasant the last time he was here, with Grogu. Mando strode through the city, his destination was a shop that sold the supplies he needed. That little green womp rat and his ears. Mando knew he did the right thing, but the right thing felt so lonely and heavy. These were feelings he had not experienced in a long time and this deeply. If Grogu was the price of Beskar, what could this quarry be at four hundred thousand credits, four hundred fifty thousand credits.

Is she a Jedi? Like the one that took Grogu? I might not have a chance.

“Sir? Sir?” the shopkeeper shouted to grab Mando’s attention, he pointed to the stack of rations. ‘Are you ready?”

Mando looked down at the rations he held close to him. He was puzzled as to how he got to the store, picked up what he needed, and stood in line without remembering any of it. “Yes, sorry.” Mando placed the rations in the sack the shopkeeper offered up and pulled out his credit bag.

The lava flats weren’t too far off from where he landed Gida. The outside of the light gunner ship looked decent, if a bit old. Everything was attached properly and there were no signs of laser blasts. An aging Twi’lek, a friend of Greef’s, loaned him Gida.

“She’s seen her time,” the Twi’lek said as he patted the hull when Mando first saw the ship. “She might have a few bumps coming out of hyperspace, but nothing serious.”

I’ll keep that in mind.

Mando felt his shoulders slump as his chest seemed to increase in weight. The Darksaber felt alive and throbbing at his hip. He pushed a code on his vambraces and Gida’s side door opened. The wind was blowing, he knew that without having the tactical display on, the bits of dried dirt and pumicite swirled along the ground. An instant spark of curiosity sprung in him. He placed the bag of goods by the entrance of the ship, his helmet followed. Mando took a deep breath, the air smelled acrid. The breeze whipped around his head, soft like something he couldn’t remember the name of. All the time he has spent on Nevarro, he never saw the lava flats with his own eyes. The lava was bright orange, the cooler parts jet black. It was an ugly boring sight to behind. Dust, dull mountains, browns, blacks, and orange from the lava, but they seemed richer in colour without the helmet. He inhaled again, savouring the pungent smells, smells he never experienced before. His eyes poured over the landscape the last time before he hopped into the ship.

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

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Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: A little bit of Mando pov for you all!! It’s a shorter chapter, just kind of the same as the previous but from our Space Dad’s point of view this time. Though there may be a little hint of your decision at the end…

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, swearing, angst? Hints of fluff?

AN: There’s a very small ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ reference to a certain Dornish prince and his nickname in here too. Wonder if you’ll find it? 👀

Also, thank you to @ithinkwehitametaphor for sending me the gif! i couldn’t for the life of me find it and you honestly saved my life

Wordcount: About 3465

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar�� @weirdowithnobeardo

Mando’a Translation: Tor – justice

He always thought it would end like this. Never in some big blaze of blaster fire or with his ship, but in some back alley, bleeding out, alone.

Hell, maybe he deserved it. He’d killed enough people to warrant this end, slumped on the floor, too weak to save himself.

He didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, a Mandalorian’s death. Not after all he had done.

Of course, it was his duty, his honour as a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter but… that sacred Creed did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him at night, the whispers that hissed in his ear during his waking hours.

He almost laughed at himself.

The Creed was all he had.

Until…. Until the kid had come along.

Until he saw that little wrinkly baby in the crib and… it had all changed.

He couldn’t kill it, him, couldn’t take it back to the Client or his Clones.

One look at that damn little silver ball, and eveyrhting went straight out the window.

Fuck the Guild code. He would never kill a child, an innocent being that couldn’t even talk, could only make those little cooing sounds that even he had to admit were adorable.

Rescuing him… it had given him something to live for. Something to fill his days and a reason not to go hurtling helmet first into danger with no regard for his own safety.

Except… well, no. That wasn’t strictly true was it. He’d become more reckless since that moment, the rules that his bound his life for so long were slowly coming undone bit by bit. All of which made him so reckless, so… desperate?

You only had to look at the sheer amount of people lining up for his and the kid’s head to prove that.

So maybe he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but they were still alive, weren’t they? Had friends to help them if he needed it.

In a short time, he’d gone from being Judge, Jury and Executioner, to being the person that people called when they needed help. Sometimes people didn’t even call him. He just showed up and offered his services.

And truth be told… he liked it. He liked people looking at him with hope and admiration, rather than fear and jealousy. He liked the way people fussed over the kid, asking if Mando was taking good care of the child. Like they were a family.

A Clan.

The sigil on his armour said as much. Him and the kid. A unit of two rogues.

That’s what it all came down to, in the end. Everything was to keep Grogu safe. That’s why he stuck to the Outer Rim, taking jobs that would draw him further away from those that relentlessly hunting them, those who wanted to harm the Child. Besides, he needed the credits that came with the big jobs. Taking care of the little womp rat was expensive. Not to mention there was always something falling apart on his ship.

So, when that guy in the hood had cornered him in the bar, given him the fob and told him about the bounty that no one could catch, he’d taken it without a thought. He’d had so many over the years that were supposedly uncatchable that the word had nearly lost its meaning. And this stranger had obviously sensed that, explained that it was true. Reeled off the sheer amount of hunters that had been sent that way, Imps, Trandoshans, Empire workers, IG-11 robots, even another Mandalorian. After hearing that list, Mando had expected some high-level bounty. An escapee from the deepest pits of the darkest prisons, someone who had done terrible, terrible things.

So… when he’d activated the puck, and the hologram of a woman’s face had come up… he was shocked. This woman… she was beautiful. Still young. She didn’t look like she bathed in the blood of her enemies, or killed children and babies, she looked… well, not exactly harmless. There was a glint in her eyes even on the hologram, a spark that warned of danger, promised pain to anyone that tried to hurt her.

A survivor’s look.

Something niggled at him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It might have been hesitation, but he ignored it. The bounty over her head was enough that he could take Grogu to one of those sanctuary planets and lay low for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. The kid deserved it, to be able to play and explore.

And himself… Maker, he was just so tired.

So, he’d pocketed the puck and the fob, didn’t ask who the client was, went back to the Crest and then he was on his way to Sorgan.

Maybe it would take him a little longer than usual to bring the girl in, but it was nothing that he hadn’t done before. After all, stealing back the kid, breaking into a prison, everything else that had occurred recently… this was a walk in the park.

He still believed that, right up to tracking you. Even when he chased you.

He had to admit, he did love it when they ran, even if his back was killing him.

Something about the chase, the frantic fear of the prey as he hunted them down, the conclusion inevitable. It thrilled him.

But… this felt.. different.

You were different. You fought like it was a dance, whirling across the clearing and around his punches like there was a song only you could hear. And you were taunting him, laughing as you did. You lived for this, like you had been bred for it. No… you’d been shaped by it, shaped by the choice of cowering or turning into a wolf. A wolf, like those he’d seen in Lothal.

You were strong, you fought well, he had to give you that much. He knew he would have to work for it, but with the promise of safety lingering, he matched you move for move, determined to hold this out as long as it took.

He’d read your file, read what had happened and used that to his advantage. The words had come easily, even though they had stirred something inside him, perhaps a mirror of the feelings he was encouraging in you.

But then… then you just gave in. Straight away. And not like the others did. Not in the way that they had, thinking it would make him go easier, change his mind.

No, you had completely, utterly given up. He saw it in your eyes. Saw that survivors glint gutter out, a wolf tamed back into her cage with her tail between her legs.

And… it threw him. He had touched something, caught something deep within you as he taunted you. Something broken… that again whispered to his own deepest thoughts. Like calling to like.

He’d ignored it, pushing that thought back into the part of his minds where his darker thoughts lay slumbering – for now. He’d carried you back to the Crest, shackled you to the wall and had made to leave you there.

Only, he had seen that the wound on your shoulder was torn open again, ripped by your fight and his jamming with the rifle. It was bleeding through your tunic, and even with unconsciousness heavy in your body, you still looked somewhat pained.

He’d hovered there, staring at the bleeding wound and having some kind of internal battle.

It wasn’t fatal. It was just a recent injury that had torn open. You’d be fine. He nodded, turning around and making all of one step.

But. A Trandoshan had been the last person to hunt you. They relished in the hunt, had probably fought dirty and used a poison. It might be infected. What if you died on his way back to dropping you off? Or got really, really sick?

Nevermind. The messenger for the Client stated you had to be brought back alive. Alive didn’t mean whole. He carried on walking, trying to focus again on something else… only to pause a couple of metres away.

Help her.

The Mandalorian had turned back around to look at you, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips. He moved through the ship, grabbing a med-kit and then practically stormed back to you, nearly ripping your tunic as he’d eased up the sleeve.

It wasn’t too bad, a deep wound but it hadn’t been infected, yet. He cleaned it up, spraying it with the last of his bacta-spray and binding it with the last strip of bandages. He’d have to get some more soon, dig up some credits from somewhere.

A cruel reminder of why he took this job. What you were. A bounty. That’s all.

Muttering a string of curses, he finished binding your wound, wrenching his hands away and then made his way back upstairs.

A bounty. A means to an end. The way to getting a break that his aching body craved for.

He was hunter. You were prey.

That was the mantra he had to keep repeating to himself when he’d brought you up to the cockpit.

Had to keep repeating when you were teasing him, which simultaneously ground on his nerves but also made his skin tighten in a way it hadn’t for a while.

It had been a long time, so long since he’d that kind of verbal play with someone.

Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had any kind of play with anyone. He just didn’t have the time anymore, not with Grogu and not when everyone knew who he was. How could you trust someone enough to sleep with them when nearly everyone wanted to kill you?

His new mantra had echoed in his head when you began to verbally poke at him, hitting home about being lonely. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you knew you’d hit a nerve. But thankfully you stopped.

But not before that broken thing had called between you again. Your words were spoken with too much ease and casualness, someone who knew all too well the loneliness and starvation for touch and companionship.

Maker, he had to get rid of you soon.

It had almost been a relief to find the small bounty on this planet. You’d been asleep, the kid asleep too so he’d gone. He didn’t need to wake either of you up, you knew why you were here - he’d told you so this morning.

Besides, it was a small planet, easy prey to catch when everyone here feared the dark. He’d be back in a few hours.

With the way he was so wired, he’d probably be back in two.

That’s the way it was meant to happen.

Track down the bounty, disarm, bring him back, freeze him in carbonite and Mando would have you back in the sky before you’d even woken up.

And it had happened that way initially. He followed the sharp tailed bounty from the fighting pits to a cantina. Had to sit and listen as he boasted about some girl he’d bedded the night before and had screaming his name. He then, of course, launched into detail of said night, drawling about this girl in such a derogatory way that it took all his training and restraint not to just shoot this creep in the head there and then and be done with it.

But, the Mandalorian had endured it. Sat there for an hour or so and then followed him out into an alleyway. Mando kept hidden as the bounty had spoken to a friend, talking about another girl he’d seen. Apparently, this one was even better than last night. He had it on good authority that this girl would be game for anything he wanted to do and more.

And then Spikey had started describing again, in detail, what he would do. And Mando had been disgusted, angry that this creep was talking about a woman this way, such sick and derogatory things. Spikey’s friend asked if this ‘slut’ had a name.

And then…

Your name. That’s what he said.

And that’s when it went wrong.

Your name had barely come out of this animal’s lips when a red haze clouded over the Mandalorian. Everything in him screamed violence and his body went on autopilot, attacking this vile waste of space matter so quickly he hadn’t had time to breathe. Mando didn’t even notice the friend bolt, running away. He was just so focused on taking down the bounty, ripping him apart for what he’d said about you. This one would be brought in cold. He would say that it put up a fight, tried to kill him so Mando acted in self-defence.

His previous mantra of the last two days was forgotten, overtaken by a need to defend you, make sure this guy stayed the hell away from you. Bring him down, freeze him in carbonite and get off of this planet. He fell back into that haze, relying on his skills and instincts.

Except… except that when the haze cleared, he wasn’t leaning over the body.

No, he was the one being pinned against the wall by the bounty, with a strength he hadn’t realised Spikey possessed. What the fuck was he?

Escape training came to him now, but before he could disarm and kill, the bounty began to spew those vile thoughts about you again. About how Mando was keeping you tied to a bed, for his own pleasure. How he was going to take you, ask to keep you, use you-

And then for the first time in his life, Mando forgot his training. He forgot about blocking and defensive maneuverers. He forgot about the myriad of weapons on his body, the Whistling Birds, the flame-thrower.

He reached out in a blind fury to throttle this creep.

He left himself open to attack.

That was the first time he royally fucked up tonight.

Pain had suddenly become a living thing in his side and waist as he slid down the wall, and then his only thought wasn’t of survival, it was of the kid, and you.

You were back in the ship, both of you safe at least. Maybe you would know how to fly, know how to get yourselves out of there and run, escape. That’s what he’d hoped. You were smart, you were a survivor. You’d take the initiative and get yourselves out. Besides, he might not have admitted it, but he trusted you with Grogu.

And then like he’d fucking summoned you… there you were. Launching into Spikey Tail’s side and getting him away. He could only watch as you engaged him in the fight, taunted him with that same tone you’d used on him. Only this time, he could watch you.

Beautiful.

There was no other word for it, as much as he might not have wanted to admit it. You fought like it was a dance, that prowling wolf in you giving way to a viper, striking and falling back with all the grace of dancers he’d heard about performing in Coruscant.

He was almost breathless as he watched this deadly game – though that might have been the blood loss and blow to his head.

He thought he might be sick when the sound of your ribs shattering bounced off the slick metal walls, the muffled cry of agony it tore from you.

But still, the taunts kept coming, and he couldn’t help himself when you complained that Spikey Tail talked too much. You had possibly two broken ribs and yet you were still a cocky little shit. The impressed, huffing laugh that came from his lips was loud enough to be heard by you.

And that was his second fuck up of the night.

What started as an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest as you turned and smiled at him, had immediately frozen his lungs as Spikey slammed you against the wall, strangling you.

Fear shot through Mando, colder than his body had begun to feel. He tried to get up, tried to help you but he couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him.

He couldn’t save you.

He was going to watch you die defending him.

Just like his parents.

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, not again. He swore against his body, gathered every remaining ounce of strength that he had and reached for his blaster, just as those sick comments of degradation and ugly lust began to fall from your attacker’s lips.

All he needed was to give you an opening, just one tiny opening and you would do the rest.

Spikey’s lips were creeping toward yours, fear bursting in your eyes as you scrambled for the vibroblade sheathed against your thigh.

An opening, that’s all he had to do.

And he did. He managed to haul his body back from the edge of death long enough to shoot the guy in the back.

You took your opening.

He saw the flash of your vibroblade, heard the muffled, wet noise as it sunk into his bounty’s neck.

The guy fell to the floor in a dead weight. You dropped too and he managed to see you gasp for air, assure himself you were mostly okay before that flame of energy guttered out so quickly, he saw stars.

Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision as he felt his life slip through his fingers – literally, his other hand was pressed to his side in an effort to try and staunch it but he didn’t have the energy to.

This was it then.

The way he would go.

Nothing noble, or heroic.

Bleeding out in a back alley. The creatures in the dark would take him soon enough.

At least you would be able to take the kid and run now. At least there was that.

And then he felt hands knocking his way, significantly smaller hands push into the wound. He couldn’t even make a noise of pain; it didn’t hurt anymore. His vision cleared again and there you were once more, leaning over him with blood sprayed over your face, falling from a cut on your cheek.

No. No.

What were you doing??

You were supposed to escape. You were supposed to flee the mess he’d bought you into and take the kid and run.

He tried to speak, to convey these thoughts to you but his lips had stopped responding. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. But somehow, it was like you got what he meant.

Your hands began to lift, and he had a weak wave of relief that was marred by the fresh soaking of blood that oozed out of his side. How much had he lost now?

Too much, by the cooling temperature of his body and the trembling that had begun.

He had come close to death before, so many times before but this felt different. This felt like he was losing something. Something that was just within reach but he hadn’t had the chance to grasp at yet. And it was being wrenched away, taken from him and trickling over the stones beneath him in a deep, scarlet puddle.

Maybe he’d begun to hallucinate too, because you were back, leaning over him, hands pressed into him again like they could stop the blood. He lifted his eyes and something in him curled up and panged when he saw that you were already gazing at him.

Gazing right into his eyes.

How you knew where they were, how you looked through the blackened visor without seeing, he didn’t know. But he could read the war raging inside of you, the battle off stay or go.

Go.

Mando tried to talk again, but only managed a faint noise, a croak that sounded so pitiful, he might have cringed at himself had he not started to hear a ringing in his ears. Time was nearly up, ticking away his life and that glimmer of something.

So, he instead just looked at you. You were clearly not made up yet, so he did something selfish.

He put his life in your hands.

If you left him here to die, he deserved it. It was justice. Justice for every ounce of pain he’d caused. The grief he’d doled out to mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children.

Justice for the life of treachery he had all but dumped Grogu into.

Justice for letting his parents die for him and not save them.

But, if you let him live…

Then he would try harder. He would repent for his mistakes.

He would make sure you were dropped somewhere safely. You couldn’t stay with him, he wrought death and destruction to those around him whether he meant it or not

But he could take you somewhere safe, maybe to Greef and Cara.

Then he would hunt down whoever came after you next, giving you the respite that he was going to keep for himself.

They were the options.

A deserved death, or a new determination to set right his mistakes.

These thoughts swum through his hazy brain at a surprisingly rapid pace, only a few seconds worth of time as he still watched what you would do with this choice. He could see that you understood, understood the choice he had selfishly bestowed upon you.

Only it was too late.

Heavy darkness thundered over him in an unrelenting tidal wave and with a choked gasp, he was dragged under, so deep he might have imagined your arms winding around his battered body, hauling him to his feet as much as you could.

His brain giving him one last reprieve, perhaps, or maybe a cruel taunt to what might have been before he was sucked under and everything went numb.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the force #star wars #the mandalorian #rogue #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal

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alderaani · 4 years ago

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the shape of silence

this little fic is a gift for @hobiiwan as part of the @starwarssecretsanta event - i really hope that you like it! thanks so much to @lilhawkeye3 for organising the event, it has been a really lovely thing to look forward to 🥰

summary: it has been two weeks since Nevarro, and Din is still trying to wrap his head around the quest he’s been given. he lands the Crest on a remote, wintery planet so that he can regroup and get his bearings | also readable on AO3

warnings: none, this is just a little fluffy winter-themed piece!

It’s too quiet. There’s the rumbling of the engine of course, the ever-present beat of the Crest’s mechanical heart, but apart from that…there is nothing. The deafening quiet of space lingers on the edge of his mind, like a predator hovering just out of sight. It sounds like it always does, after the bounty has been brought on board and sealed in carbonite, when Din is left exactly how he likes things. Alone, with his own thoughts.

Except this time, he isn’t. Silence, it turns out, can be very deceptive.

There is a clank somewhere deep in the hold and Din jumps, tripping over the corner of a storage crate and dropping the tarp he’d been trying to look under.

“Come on, kid…” he mutters, running a flustered hand over the top of his helmet. “Don’t do this to me.”

Something else rattles, ringing sharply through the durasteel. Somewhere in the gloom a little satisfied giggle echoes, a funny trilling sound that makes him smile through the sharp exasperation in his chest. Din sighs, slumping against the crate.

“I know you’re in there,” he tells the selection of equipment around him. There is no answer, but the silence feels bated, interested. Like someone is listening. “You’ve got to come out sooner or later.”

There is another giggle and the sound of many small things tinkling as they fall. Din groans and tips his head back.

“Anything you spill, you clean up on this ship,” he says, trying to be threatening, but even he can hear the defeat in his own voice. When there is more suspiciously long silence, he sighs again and crouches, lifting up the edge of the tarp and turning his heat sensors back on. Cold blue shapes swim muzzily on the HUD, and he’s just about to give up again and move on when a patch of orange flashes by. The little womp rat is back here all right, just as he suspected. A little bloom of relief spreads headily through him, but it’s not enough to dull the panic that has plagued him for the past several hours, from the moment he turned around in the pilot’s chair and realised the kid had vanished.

The orange blur solidifies into a dense blob of red as the child comes out from behind more of the junk that Din has accumulated on jobs. Odds and ends mostly, things bounties had with them when they were taken and he’d kept because they’d looked useful. Boxes of scrap so that he can put the Crest back together when it is inevitably damaged. Stuff one absolutely would not want a small, overly curious infant to have full unrestrained access to. Din has seen the kid put a live frog into his mouth, so his opinion of the little gremlin’s judgement is not especially high. He keeps meaning to clear up, but he has yet to figure out how to baby proof a ship when the baby in question can move things with his mind.

The Razor Crest is not a big ship, but Din has quickly learned that that is very much a matter of perspective. He’d buckle the kid down if he thought it would work, but those little fingers are fast; he figured out the controls on his sleeping pod almost before Din did. The fact of the matter is that the child does not get put anywhere. He will tolerate being placed, if Din is lucky. Today he wasn’t.

The patch of glowing red shifts as Din watches. The child stoops, one small clawed hand reaching out to paw at the ground.

“I can see you, kid.” The red blob straightens, and then the shape of two large ears rotate in his direction. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re landing soon, get out here.”

There is a questioning chirp, and then the child is moving, emerging from the gloom. Din flicks off the heat sensors and looks down into a pair of large brown eyes as a body shuffles up to his leg and latches on to the fabric of his trousers with one hand. The other is closed tight, but Din catches a glint of silver through his fingers.

“Hey, what have you got there?” He plucks the kid up by the back of his robe and tucks him into the crook of one arm, then holds his free hand in front of his face, palm up. “Come on, hand it over.”

The kid makes no verbal response, but his ears flick down once, a dismissal if Din has ever seen one.

“I’m not negotiating,” Din says sternly, but it’s all a lie. He’s already starting to sweat a little at the look the kid gives him.

The child’s ears flicker again before he looks impassively out across the hold, hand held protectively against his midriff. Din keeps up the stalemate for a few moments, then hears something beep urgently in the cockpit. He sighs.

“Look, you give me whatever that is and I feed you. Sound good?”

This makes the child look up almost instantly, shifting in Din’s arms with a soft eager crowing noise. His hand twitches, and Din holds his breath. Then the cockpit beeps again and Din curses, half turning back towards the ladder. The kid has started making innocent burbling noises and is sitting placidly in Din’s arms, as if he hasn’t just dragged a seasoned bounty hunter on a several hour goose chase through the hull.

“I’ll double the jerky,” he pleads, patting the pouch on his belt for emphasis. “Come on kid, work with me here.”

The child grins. His little hand comes up and releases a collection of knuts and wire ends into Din’s palm, which he stows quickly into a pocket. He knows that he lost this round, but he’ll take whatever he can get at this point, so long keeps the kid alive and relatively out of trouble.

They get back into the cockpit just in time for the Crest to drop out of hyperspace, a shuddering rumble and then a familiar lurch sending him scrambling for the controls. There is a breathless, weightless moment as the sweeping dome of a planet materialises below, blotting out the stars. Din studies it quickly. Swirling grey clouds roiling within atmo, and where they break, mottled landscapes of white and green. He checks the navi-computer again for its name: Ayarth 4, cold, settled by mining colonies, covered in forest. Remote enough that not even Din knows it, because bounties clearly don’t stray here often. Perfect, in other words, for anyone that wants to lay low for a while.

As he sits in the pilot’s seat and sets the controls back to manual, Din feels a slight tugging on his boots and glances down to find the kid scaling his leg. He huffs out a laugh and moves his thigh so the womp rat can get a better grip, then can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when the kid drags himself into his lap and promptly sprawls, huffing as he draws his feet up under his robe out of the cold.

“You actually gonna take a nap, huh?” he asks, by now starting to recognise the sleepy droop to the child’s big brown eyes. It never happens when he hopes it will, but right now suits him just fine. The kid doesn’t say anything, but he curls his hand over the lip of Din’s thigh guard and rests his head on the exposed fabric, which seems answer enough.

As he lowers the ship into atmo and starts scanning the frozen ground for signs of civilization, Din reaches down to gently worry one of the baby’s ears between his fingers, sighing heavily to himself. The child weighs next to nothing, but he feels every ounce of the small body curled into his.

The silence presses back in, interrupted this time by the roaring wind outside and the whining groan of the engines, but Din feels it all the same. He’s never minded quiet; when they were young Paz had always been the talker when necessary, happy to utilise the attention his size bestowed upon him so naturally. Din has always preferred to watch. He can read a person’s body, know exactly how they will move next in a fight, but words have too many faces.

Now though...now the silence feels too empty. He knows the deep abyss of space intimately - the feeling of great nothingness and infinite possibility stretching out in front of him. Has welcomed it, even. But there has always been something to go back to, in the past. A tether binding him to the rest of the galaxy throughout the solitary weeks and months drifting through stars. Now though, the covert is gone. They might reassemble, in time, but he has no way to find them even if they do, and so many will be gone. He has his mission, and that alone has kept him going through the two lonely weeks since Nevarro, the image of those piles of empty beskar seared into his mind.

He’s self aware enough to know that he’s running, though. Panicking, almost. When they left, he was just trying to put as much distance between himself and the planet below in case of any straggling imperials that might try to follow their trail. Now they’re just drifting between fuel stations as he tries to fit his head around finding a people he has never heard of, let alone seen. A ‘race of enemy sorcerers’ no less...all he has to work with is a name, Jedi, and the way the kid’s ears perk up when he says it. He’s good at tracking people, good at chasing them to the far reaches of the galaxy and dragging them back to wherever they belong. But this feels like catching smoke.

The kid snuffles in his sleep and his ears twitch as debris thumps against the hull. Din watches his eyelids flicker as he dreams and sighs, directing the Crest down towards a clearing. It’s maybe a mile away from where he can see lights and dwellings nestled among the trees. Far enough away to be discrete, close enough that they can run if he needs.

Dusk is falling when he lands, casting long blue shadows against the white ground. The sky, fractured and fragmented by trees, is bleeding purple and orange from a blood red sun. As the Crest settles the snow hisses, steam billowing up around the hot engines and drifting across the windshield. The baby stirs, blinking sleepily up at Din as he runs cool down checks and flips the safety switches, locking out his codes and setting everything to standby.

“Sorry, kid,” he murmurs, settling one hand at the back of his head. It’s too much to hope that he will go back to sleep. Already his ears are pricking, his head swivelling to focus on the little of the landscape visible through the transparisteel. Din thinks that his eyes are distant sometimes - not absent, but focusing on things that he cannot see. Going beyond. It wouldn’t surprise him if the baby’s strange powers allowed him to see through walls. He can already lift beasts, strangle people and heal them with his mind - what’s one more impossible thing?

Din lifts the child off his lap and sets him in his pod, leaving him to wake up more fully as he heads back into the hold and opens the weapons cache, gearing up in quick, practised motions. The new weight of the jetpack on his shoulders is still a thrill. His last blessing from Armourer. An affirmation that this is the right path, wherever it leads.

As he slings his rifle over his shoulder there is a little chirp. He looks down in time to see the kid’s pod bump gently into the open cache door; the child has his eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration, his hand raised. Din looks at his gauntlet and sees a little red light blinking on the pod control panel, one that he definitely did not switch on, and sighs, feeling his heart sink.

“Very clever, kid,” he says, even as he resigns himself to never being able to find the child again. “I take it that means you’re ready to go?”

The kid chirps again, giving him a toothy grin that falters into open amazement as the ramp hisses and lowers, revealing a world of muffled, glittering white. Snow has started falling again, a breaker of clouds rolling in to chase out the sunset and bringing the weather change with it. Din stops to wedge a spare scrap of fabric into the pod, looking critically at the child’s ears. He usually keeps the scraps on hand to clean his blasters, but they’ll do for this purpose too.

The kid makes a funny crowing noise, reaching towards all that white, and tilts his head up at Din in silent demand.

“You’ve never seen snow before, huh? It’s cold, so keep that on. And let me know if your ears hurt.” He steps forward and fiddles with the pod controls so that that baby will stay level with him. “Best way to explain it is just to get out there. Come on.”

He finds himself almost excited as he steps out from under the metal plates of the Crest’s belly, keeping half an eye on the kid as he scans their surroundings for any hidden threat. The kid’s mouth opens in toothy delight, his brown eyes going big and dark and intense as he stares up into the darkening sky and the maze of swirling white. His little breaths puff up into the air and he reaches for it, babbling when it slides through his fingers and dissipates into the dusk.

Then, his ears twitch, a quick reflexive motion. The kid turns to look behind him, then makes a disgruntled noise when there’s nothing there. His head tilts as he turns back to this new, interesting landscape, then his ears twitch again, flapping in a manner reminiscent of a sneeze. Din feels a smile creep onto his face as a large snowflake lands on the curve of the baby’s left ear, waiting with bated breath. He can’t stop the laugh ripping out of his throat when sure enough, the ears twitch again.

The kid whines, reaching up to cover his ears with his claws.

“It’s just the snow. It’s like rain, see?” Din says, still chuckling. He lets several flakes settle onto the back of one glove and holds it in front of the kid’s face, watching those clever little eyes latch onto the melting spots of white. The child reaches out to touch and makes a noise of consternation when the snow vanishes, bringing his hand to his mouth. “Yeah you got it, kid. It’s just water.”

He turns back to the Crest and makes sure the ramp retracts, listening for the tell-tale triple click that means the lock has engaged. Mining communities tend to be insular, but not unpleasant. Not scavengers. He doubts there will be any trouble, but then, he thought that the kid would be a regular job, if high stakes. He’s quite done with surprises.

His breath bounces around the inside of his helmet, his boots creaking as they break through the frozen shell of the snow. It’s been a long time since he saw a view like this, even longer since he got to enjoy it.

“I say we head into the settlement and see if we can get some food. What do you think?” He says, turning back to the kid. He’s in time to see his closed eyes, to hear a coo of deep concentration - but what really gets his attention is the small wall of snow shooting towards the child’s outstretched hand.

“No, kid - wait!”

It’s too late. The force of the incoming snow sends the pod skittering, the child within flying backwards with a squeal as he is painted head to toe in white. He shakes his head like a dog, ears springing free. It’s the most disgruntled Din has ever seen him.

“Bet you’re not gonna do that again, huh?” he chuckles, righting the pod and sweeping out the worst of the mess.

The kid just holds his arms out, ears drooping as a lump of snow slides off the tip of his nose. Din huffs out a laugh and picks him up, tucking him under one arm and fishing out the blanket to drape over his legs.

“When we come back later I’ll show you how to make snowballs. You had the right idea, but we’ve gotta work on your technique.” The kid huffs. “You’ve got to admit it was a little bit funny. Now, how about that food?”

The kid coos and settles his weight down, ears lifting as they set off through the trees. Din hones in on the distant flashes of strung up lights and squat houses, a warm orange glow fracturing off the ice. The child curls into the crook of his arm, now content to watch this new world unveil itself instead of bringing it to him, his face scrunching with every breath of wind. As they walk, he winds one small hand around Din’s thumb, his fingers worrying at the smooth orange leather.

Silence falls again, amplified by the way snow muffles everything, suspending them in a long unblemished moment.

But this time, with the kid in his arms and the path stretching out in front of them, Din’s mind settles, crystallizing around the most important truth.

Wherever it may take him, this is exactly where he’s meant to be.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #grogu #baby yoda #din djarin #gen fic #S01e08: the redemption #the redemption #swsecretsanta2020 #hobiiwan #alderwrites

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donottouchredbutton · 4 years ago

Text

aliit ori’shya tal’din

Part 2 - An Unlikely Alliance

Platonic pairing: Din Djarin x young OC

Word count: 3k (whoops)

Summary: San helps Din find work so his lil trip isn’t a total bust, but Din is still confused as to why Cara would send him to a kid

A/N: Just as a side note, does anyone have any fancasts for Cara Dune? I still really like her character and she plays a pretty significant role in this, but I just don’t want to picture G*na every time I work on this story. If you do, please send them in!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading, and let me know what you think! x

San always imagined the day she walked with a bounty hunter would be her last one. Now here she was with one, and she wasn’t even the bounty. She never thought she’d see the day. With a Mandalorian, no less. She had millions of questions - How did he know Cara? Why did she send him? Why did he do it? - however, there was one question that weighed the heaviest on her mind.

What in the world was he doing with a baby?

Maybe she just didn’t have much experience with kids, but she would suspect a parent would never want to travel to dangerous locations with their child. Especially when that parent was a bounty hunter. Did bounty hunters usually have children?

Whatever backstory the Mandalorian had, San wasn’t concerned. He had done his job to check on her, and she was returning the favor by finding him another job. A real job. She led him to the cantina nearby because that felt like the right place to take a hardened warrior and bounty hunter for work. There weren’t many people out in the streets, but the ones that were took one glance at the Mandalorian behind her and cleared the way. Maybe traveling with him would have its advantages.

The doors to the cantina were always open at this time of day, and thankfully there were never many people around either. San walked in coolly and assumed Mando was following. She leaned her rifle against the nearest booth, gesturing for the Mandalorian to sit with his kid. She then started walking toward the back room behind the counter.

“Hi, Jely,” San greeted as she went.

Jely was the woman who owned and ran the cantina. She also operated the landing hangar nearby, the main source of San’s income. The woman wasn’t much bigger than San, but her eyes showed age and experience, and her hair was grayed. She looked warily between San and the bounty hunter as he sat himself and the green child in a booth.

Din was aware of the look Jely was giving him, one he wasn’t unfamiliar with. Most people looked at him with something akin to fear, and this time was no different. He watched as she stopped San before she could go any further, speaking in hushed whispers. He turned away to instead focus on the child. His big eyes stared up at him as he settled the kid into his seat.

“We’ll be gone soon,” Din said. “Don’t worry.” Grogu cooed at him in response and smiled, and that was enough for him.

Jely left San’s side and approached Din, San disappearing behind the counter. The wary look was gone now, replaced with a mannerly smile instead.

“Is there anything I can get for you two while you’re here?” the woman asked kindly.

“Just something for the little one, please,” Din answered. She smiled again, and before she could leave Din spoke again. “Do you know where I can find work?”

The old woman briefly looked behind her. “Well, there’s not much around here. We don’t get many bounty hunters out here, but we might have some spare pucks? Other than that, repairs, but even then, Reda takes care of most of those.”

Din turned his head. “Reda?”

Jely pointed behind her. “She’s looking for those pucks right now. I’ll go get that food ready for you while you wait.”

Din sat rigid as he watched the woman walk away. She wasn’t telling the truth. To what extent he didn’t know, but he was determined to find out just who he was dealing with.

When San sat before him, Din’s question was immediate. “Which one of us are you lying to?”

Her brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“Your name,” he pressed. “Why aren’t you telling the truth?”

“I didn’t lie,” San said with a rough voice. “To either of you.”

“Then why don’t they match?”

San sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. “Sometimes you just need a second name, okay? But my name is San.”

“You don’t trust her?”

“Of course I trust her. She knows my real name. It’s her who doesn’t trust people on my account,” San explained, leaning back heavily. “It’s better to have a second name so nobody recognizes you. It’s easy to feel unsafe when-“

Her mouth clamped shut. “Never mind.”

Instead, she pulled a bounty puck out and tossed it onto the table, simultaneously gripping the string necklace she was wearing - something Din hadn’t noticed before. The puck showed a hologram of a rhodian with a hefty bounty that would earn enough money to last them a while.

“A bounty hunter came here one day looking for this person and never came back. Do you want it?” she asked.

Din was silent for a moment, not bothering to question why they hadn’t come back. But what was she going to say before? What did she mean? Rather than ask about something that wasn’t his business, he took the puck quietly. He got up and moved toward the counter, taking the small bowl that Jely held out to him. He placed it in front of the child. “I’ll pay you to watch him while I’m gone.”

Din turned to leave, ready to find the bounty and finally get some more money, but a tinny clunk rang through his ears. Something hard had hit the back of his helmet, and it took all of his self-control not to whip around and shoot on reflex. He stopped in his tracks instead, turning to see a wrench on the ground and San standing there with an incredulous look on her face. He was acutely aware of how close Jely was watching them as he walked forward.

“I’m not going to sit here and be your babysitter,” San nearly growled. “You broke into my house. You owe me some answers.”

“I didn’t break in,” he said. He sat down again as San did the same. “The door was open.”

She rolled her eyes in response and pointed to Grogu, who had been obliviously eating the entire time. “What’s with the baby?”

“None of your business.”

“Seems dangerous for a bounty hunter to be traveling with a baby.”

“He’s seen worse.”

San didn’t know what he meant by that, and frankly, she didn’t want to know. It was none of her business, and she wasn’t going to pry if he really didn’t want to tell her. Instead of dwelling on the small green child, she asked, “Why did Cara send you?”

Din sighed. “To check on you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” she asked quietly, but it sounded like she was talking to herself more than him. “It doesn’t make sense.”

It didn’t, and Din wanted his own answers. “Where did you get that?” He pointed past her toward the long rifle.

San looked behind her before facing forward. “Stole it.”

“That’s an imperial rifle.”

“And?” she shrugged. “The Empire is finished. No one’s going to miss it.”

Din’s stomach turned, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain just how wrong she was. He sighed deeply. “Who are you? Really.” The words that tumbled out of his mouth made him feel heavy. He and the kid needed to take a day off soon. “How do you know Cara?”

She breathed out a chuckle, but Din thought she looked… sad. The corners of her lips were turned down, and a dejected look crossed over her features. It was gone before he could blink, though, and she straightened her back and looked at him. “I grew up on Alderaan, and after it was destroyed, I just… followed her around. She was kind of like my mentor.”

Din nodded slowly, starting to understand. “How did you end up here?”

“I left,” she shrugged. “I stay because I make money doing ship repairs.”

It was something about the way she said it, the way she looked. In that moment, she looked like the kid she was - doe eyes and slumped shoulders, she looked like she hadn’t known anything else. But Din knew the voice she was using, one he had used many times before. When he was young, training to walk the way of the Manda’lore, he was the same. By then he had been a foundling for years, and he had gotten used to it. And so did she, but the disappointment was clear, even if she didn’t mean it.

“I can pay you to repair my ship,” Din said after a short silence, causing San’s eyebrows to rise in interest. “It won’t be much, but you won’t have to watch the womp rat.”

“Um… thanks, uh…” San stuttered. She sounded like she wasn’t expecting it. She shook her head, though. “You don’t... have to pay me.” She got to her feet then and picked up the wrench from the ground. “I’ll get right to it.”

Before she could walk away, Din called out, “No droids.”

“No droids. Got it.” And then she was gone.

When she was gone, Din looked beside him to check on Grogu. The kid was still happily eating from his bowl, not a care in the world. He gave him a short pat on the head before standing up, approaching the counter. Jely, who he was sure had been listening, wiped her hands on a rag. He only had one question for the woman.

“What is she doing here?”

Jely sighed heavily, leaning against the counter. “Living. As best as she can out here.”

“Why doesn’t she leave?” he pressed.

“You think a kid can just up and leave whenever they want to here? Alone?”

“Why not?”

Jely rubbed her eyes in return. “Look mister,” she narrowed her eyes, and Din didn’t know why he suddenly felt uneasy, “things are... things are complicated. There are people here like me, most people, who have always been here, and then there is everyone else. San was the last person who ever decided to stay, and I’ve been working with her for three years. No one comes here, and no one leaves. I want her too, and she should want to, but it just won’t happen. This is a junk planet, a blip on a map. We can’t.”

The older woman finished with a stifled yawn, and Din could only imagine how much she worked. He was starting to understand a bit more, but things were still unclear to him. “How old is she? If she’s still a kid, why would she choose to come to a place like this?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Jely said immediately. “She’s still my responsibility, and while I’m sure your intentions are honest, it’s my responsibility to protect her. Can you understand that?”

“Yes.” And he could.

Din practically lugged the quarry back to the cantina, and the man hadn’t stopped struggling since he was first caught. The sight of Grogu sitting at the counter with Jely made some of the tension in his shoulders lift with the thought of almost being done. The kind woman had offered to look after him while Din was off finding the bounty, and he was utterly grateful for her. The rhodian had given him a good fight. There was a nasty bruise forming on his side that screamed whenever his beskar moved against it - meaning whenever he moved - and he had a cut on his elbow that had yet to stop bleeding. He could understand why the bounty had been forgotten. Now to get his kid, stick the crook in carbonite, and get the hell out of there.

The struggling of the bounty caught the attention of both the child and the older woman. A smile spread on Grogu’s face at the sight of his father. It always warmed Din despite his cold armor. He gave a nod of solidarity and gratitude to Jely as he shoved the bounty into one of the booths, one she returned with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” Din said earnestly, lifting his son who was awaiting him with open arms and that smile that made Din feel like his life was worth living. When he adjusted him in his arms, Din asked, “How can I repay you?”

Jely waved her hand dismissively. “No need. Truly.” She was quiet for a moment before speaking again, “Actually, if you wish to pay me in credits, you can just give those to San. She needs them more.”

The woman’s eyes stared into space almost longingly, Din thought. Her words carried more weight than he knew, and he did know that. He didn’t question her words, though, instead preparing to take the rhodian back to his ship.

“You’re always welcome here, Mandalorian,” Jely called after him. “We’re here to help, should you need it.”

Din nodded once again. “Thank you,” he repeated, but he back-tracked before he could leave. The rhodian groaned in annoyance, and Din simply tightened his already iron grip on the man’s shoulder to silence him. Din was hesitant to continue, but he pushed past it. “Keep her safe.”

Jely nodded firmly with a smile that spoke thousands, understanding what he was saying. “Always.”

When they reached the landing hangar, Din pushed the bounty enough to have him stumbling over his feet to the ground. The new noise must have caught San’s attention who sat on the ramp of the Razor Crest. Her head came up at the sound, goggles around her eyes and a mask over her mouth. Din could see her eyebrows raise as she pulled the goggles down around her neck, her mask going with it. She didn’t say anything until they approached.

“Be nicer to your ship!” Her voice was incredulous. She stared at him with wide eyes, but she didn’t seem at all concerned with the bound criminal that was with him.

Like he did before, Din pushed the rhodian to sit on the ground before walking towards the young girl, adjusting the child in his arms. “What’s the damage?”

San huffed out a laugh as she stood from the ramp. She cast a softer smile at Grogu when she saw the baby in his arms. She then began what felt like a laundry list of repairs.

“For pre-empire, your ship is in good condition all things considered, but if you’re not more careful, it can’t take much more.”

“‘Careful’ isn’t really in my line of work,” Din said bluntly, but he nodded in understanding nonetheless.

San gave him another wary look. “For my sake and your kid’s, I hope that changes.”

She was right, though. With the Razor Crest, repairs would only become more frequent and more expensive. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad getting repairs from San. Which reminded him. “Where did you learn to do this?”

She shrugged. “I have a lot of spare time.”

“How old are you?”

“Stop asking me that.”

Din sighed. It was worth a shot.

Instead of dwelling on the question any longer than he already had, he pulled the pouch of credits from his belt and fished some out. Standing before the girl, he dropped them into her hand. He then set Grogu gently on the ground before walking back to the roughed up bounty and lifted him to his feet. He started dragging him to the carbonite freezer.

“Hey, Mando,” San called.

Din shoved the rhodian into the freezer, and once the shouting stopped he exited his ship again. San’s eyes were wide once again, and she held out the credits as if it was a thermal detonator. He didn’t say anything, though, waiting for her to continue.

“You don’t have to pay me.”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Because,” she started, “if you’re a friend of Cara’s it’s the least I can do.”

Din regarded her for a moment. He appreciated the intent, but he didn’t feel right about it. He couldn’t not pay, especially when she clearly needed it.

“Keep it,” he said simply.

“But it’s too much.”

“Keep it.”

Din’s tone didn’t leave any room for argument. She stared at him intently for a moment longer, similar to how she did inside her little house. Finally, she averted her eyes down and clutched the credits in her hand. She took a small step back and let out a quiet “thank you,” pocketing the money inside her jacket.

Perhaps for the first time since arriving on that planet, Din allowed himself to relax. He realized just how tired he was as he felt his muscles weigh him down. He was ready to leave.

He looked around for the child, and he found him reaching out to the young girl with them. The soft smile was back on her face as she watched him, but she shook her head at him. Grogu returned her smile and continued reaching for her, even taking small steps toward her. Din wasn’t used to this.

“No, kid. We have to go,” Din said. He picked Grogu up from the ground, who only stretched his small arms further as they got closer to the Crest.

San chuckled quietly. “I guess he likes me.” She waved at the kid whose smile grew if that was even possible.

“He likes almost everyone,” Din responded, but he didn’t mean it with any ill intent.

Din halted in front of the girl once more, looking down at her. Her brown eyes almost black stared up at him in return. “Thank you for repairing my ship.”

“It’s no problem,” she replied. She hesitated a bit before shyly adding, “Sorry... for throwing a wrench at your head.”

Din had completely forgotten about it, actually. “It’s fine,” he nearly spluttered, but he cleared his throat.

“You can, uh, tell Cara that I’m doing fine, that I’m alive,” San said quietly. She turned to grab her tools before either of them could speak more, but Din understood. Her voice said it all.

Din walked up the ramp of the Razor Crest with the child, but he stopped again at the top. “Stay out of trouble, kid,” he called.

San nodded, the makings of a smile playing on her face. “If you’re ever in the sector and need help, I’m happy to help,” she said, followed by, “You take care of your dad, baby, and make sure he takes care of you.” Underneath his helmet, Din let himself smile.

Then, finally, he closed the doors of his ship, ready to leave, ready to report to Cara, and, despite what he was told, ready to not return.

Taglist: @emiliasaffron

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x ofc #platonic mando #platonic mando x young oc #platonic din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc #platonic din djarin x young oc #dad din djarin

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