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cyarikaplease · 15 days ago

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say no to this

step dad!din djarin x f!reader

summary: you have sex with your step dad in the mines of mandalore

warnings: explicit smut, must be 18 years or older to read, step-cest, if that is not your thing then please click away

Life on Mandalore has been nothing short of hectic. It’s not that you don’t like having the clans living amongst each other. But the fact of the matter is you don’t feel like Mandalore is your home. You didn’t grow up on Mandalore and based on the legends you didn’t understand why the others were so determined to come back. And now that you’re living here, you still don’t get it.

They’ve done their best to make the place feel more like a home. Houses made of stone have been built but they’re more utilitarian than cozy. They’re still trying to figure out what land can be used for farming and it’s a miracle no one’s starving yet.

And then there’s your mother. Your mother decided to get remarried once you got settled here and she chose to marry none other than Din Djarin. You expected your mom to get married again sooner or later. She’s been lonely since your father passed away during battle many cycles ago. But you didn’t expect her to marry Din. You’ve heard the rumors about him but you didn’t meet him until right before everyone went to reclaim Mandalore. You didn’t have time to address your attraction to him back then but that’s when it started. Between the saunter in his step, how broad he is, and his brilliant silver armor you’re head over heels. Not to mention how good he is with his then-foundling and now son, Grogu.

He’s been the only person concerned about your transition to life on Mandalore. As if your attraction to Din needed to grow any deeper. Your mother has been busy with Bo-Katan and the Armorer, developing infrastructure and surveying land for farming. Which left you alone with Din and Grogu. He’s been great with checking in with you here and there.

On the rare occasions when he went with the others to attend to matters, you were left to watch over Grogu. And it made you seethe with jealousy. Not that you didn’t like watching Grogu. You just felt like you should be out there with your man. Because deep down, you developed not only a crush but a slightly possessive one at that.

You think he feels it, too. There have been times when his visor lingers on you. And although you can’t see his face like he can see yours, you can only imagine what his expression is like underneath his helmet. Or it’s a pat on your shoulder or his hand on the small of your back as he’s trying to scooch behind you. It’s literally anything. It doesn’t matter what because your mind has convinced you that he wants you like you want him. Sometimes you think you’re crazy, that you’re foolish for believing that your stepdad could possibly be into you.

But maybe you’re not so crazy after all.

It’s another typical day for you. You’re sitting outside, looking up at the muddled atmosphere. You sense Din beside you out of your peripheral, towering above you.

“Doing alright?” he asks, crouching down to sit beside you. He sets Grogu down, letting him waddle around on the rocks, lifting a few of the small ones with the Force.

“Not really. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. What can I help you with?”

“Probably nothing. I’m just never going to get used to this place being home.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“What is it?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“What about doing some things to feel more connected to the creed?”

“Like what?”

“Have you visited the Living Waters?”

“No.”

“I would start there.”

“I thought you only had to go there if you messed up. You know… like you did,” you joke.

“Very funny,” he deadpans.

“But I’ll go if you think it’ll help.”

He scoops Grogu into his arms and stands, offering his free hand to help you up. You grab your helmet and take his hand, standing so close to him it makes your stomach flutter. You look down before replacing your helmet on your head and see his hand flex after he lets it go. And it leaves you wondering what that could mean.

You bid him goodbye, feeling his visor burn a hole into you walk away. The journey to the Living Waters is uneventful. Most if not all of the threats were cleared out by the others a while ago.

Once you get there you take off your helmet and jetpack, sitting on the stone floor by the water's edge and enjoying the solitude. It’s actually peaceful down here and you hate feeling that way. You’ve gotten so used to being apathetic about every aspect of this place that feels weird to enjoy something here for once. Since moving here you’ve gotten used to being alone, since your mother and the other clan members have been so busy. Aside from the moments with Din and Grogu, of course. But here it feels like you’re alone on your own terms like you chose for it to be this way instead of the others just abandoning you.

“How are you doing?” a voice says behind you.

You startle with a jolt, turning your torso to get a glance at who’s there. It’s Din, of course. Who else would it be? No one else cares this much to come all this way to see how you’re doing. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him but you must’ve been too far in your own head, reflecting.

“I don’t mind it down here,” you say, turning to face the water again.

He detaches his jetpack and sits beside you like he did on the surface, but this time he spins around to face your side, back nice and straight up nice and straight with his hands resting on his knees. You scooch around to meet him in the middle, both of you facing each other. Grogu’s noticeably absent this time.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Playing with the other younglings.”

“My mother?”

“Still with Bo-Katan and the others. Something about planting a few test crops to see how they take.”

“Ahh.”

“Just admit you like it down here,” he says. You can just by his voice that he’s wearing a smug grin on his face.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes, “But don’t tell anyone. Or else they’ll start asking me to help out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just glad something finally got you to feel better. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. You turn your head back towards the water and ask, “But why do you care so much?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care if I’m happy or not?”

“I know what it’s like to move to a strange place, to feel like you don’t fit in.”

You stifle a snort, prompting him to ask, “What?”

“When have you ever felt like you didn’t fit in?” you say, turning your head back towards him.

“Lots of times. Especially when I’m the only Mandalorian in a room.”

“Oh yeah? So what did you do to make yourself feel better?”

“It’s empowering not to fit in.”

“How so?”

“It means there’s something about you that sets you apart from the others.”

“I don’t think I have that.”

“You do. You just don’t see it.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your spunk.”

“My spunk?”

“Yeah. You’re not afraid to let your mother have it. That’s for sure.”

That gets you to laugh, a real laugh. Maker, you haven’t laughed or felt this much joy since before you moved here.

“Thanks for saying all that,” you say, inching closer to him.

“I mean it,” he says, leaning forward.

Without thinking you inch closer even more and now the gap between you two is almost nonexistent. You gaze directly into his visor, imagining what he looks like underneath his helmet. As if he read your mind, he gravitates his hands towards the bottom edge of his helmet, lifting it off of his head. You throw your hand over your eyes out of respect. Is he crazy? He just redeemed himself for doing this not that long ago.

“You can look. We’re a part of the same clan after all.”

His voice. His unmodulated voice.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yes really,” he chuckles.

You put your hand back in your lap slowly, taking in his appearance. He’s better than you ever could’ve imagined. His brown curls are slightly matted from his helmet, albeit in a cute way. His facial hair is slightly graying along his jawline. And his eyes, so warm and brown they make you melt.

You’re so close to him that his warm breath tickles your face. He’s so intoxicating it makes your mind short-circuit. Without thinking you lean forward, closing the small and almost nonexistent gap between you two, pressing your lips against his. He freezes, his body going tense and stiff before melting into the kiss. His hand finds your chin, his rugged and calloused fingers gingerly touching your skin. The kiss grows more and more passionate; more heated. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging for access. But it’s almost like that brings you back down to reality. This isn’t just any man you’re kissing. This is your stepdad.

You pull back and look at the water again, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flustered you are.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were just acting on your feelings.”

“My feelings?” you say, looking at him again and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, your feelings. It was only a matter of time before you acted on them.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“H-How long have you known?”

“A while. Since before your mother and I got married.”

You place your head in your hands, mortified and groaning in embarrassment. You feel him inch closer again, bringing his head by your ear like he’s whispering a secret.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I feel the same way,” he whispers, tickling the shell of your ear.

“You do?!” you ask in disbelief, poking your head up.

“Mhm,” he says, kissing you again with the same grip on your chin.

“But aren’t we breaking the creed?” you ask, pulling away again but hovering over his lips.

“Look where we are, cyar’ika. We can just bathe in the Living Waters after.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Relax, mesh’la. Let me take care of you.”

He gently pushes you so you’re lying on the stone floor. He pulls off one of his gloves and hovers over you, ghosting his fingers over the fly on your flight suit. You’re embarrassed by how wet you are already. But it’s natural given how much you’ve fantasized about this moment. You just didn’t expect it to take place here beside the Living Waters.

He opens the fly of your flight suit and palms the wetness in your underwear. His mouth curves into a devious smirk before he bites his bottom lip. You look down between your legs and see the bugle in his fight suit, his cock hard and straining against the fabric.

“You’re so wet, cyar’ika. I’ve barely touched you.”

You whimper in response and he chuckles darkly, watching as you writhe under his touch. He loves every minute of it.

“Have you touched yourself and thought of me?”

Your mouth opens to respond but no words come out, surprised at his bold question.

“You can tell me, cyar’ika.”

“Y-Yes,” you admit.

“What did you think about?”

“Uh, something not too far off from this.”

“Tell me,” he repeats.

“You sneaking into my room at night, touching me while I sleep.”

“Dirty girl,” he says, resting on the back of his heels. He opens your flight suit more, taking your underwear in his hands and ripping apart the fabric. You gasp but he doesn’t stop, tearing your underwear in half before pulling them off of you and tossing them to the side.

“Din!” you say, turning your head and glancing at the strewn fabric.

“Need you. Now,” he grunts, taking his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, slicking them with his saliva. You spread your thighs apart farther, aching for his touch already. He slides his pointer finger inside you, curling it painstakingly slowly against your g-spot.

“Mm, Din please, I need more,” you whine.

“Are you begging?” he asks, hovering his face mere inches above yours.

“Kriff… Yes, I am.”

“Say it.”

“I need more… more fingers,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his middle finger inside you.

Soon the cavern is filled with your moans, echoes bouncing off the rocky walls. He brings his head over your cunt, spitting a wad of saliva over your clit before rubbing his thumb over it. Your back arches up off the floor and he steadies you with his other hand on your hip.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers, cyar’ika. Can you do that for me?”

“Harder,” you beg.

He obliges, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit. With one last push against your g-spot, you cum, walls clenching and releasing his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, astonished at the amount of wetness you produced.

You ride out your high with a jumbled string of moans, whimpers, and curse words, letting your orgasm subside. He pulls his hand from you, holding his fingers above your mouth. They glisten under the dim lights of the mine.

“Open,” he commands.

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth for him. He places his fingers inside your mouth and you taste yourself on your tongue. He guides your mouth close with a hand on your jaw, commanding again, “Suck my fingers.”

Once he’s decided you’ve done enough, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and grabs your chin, kissing you deeply while his other hand pulls out his cock. He rests on his heels and takes off his other glove, gathering your spend and slathering it on his cock. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a look and somehow it’s more than you could’ve ever imagined it to be— long, thick, and uncut.

“Are you ready, cyar’ika?” he asks, hovering over you again and coaxing you to lie back down.

You nod and he thrusts into you slowly, burying himself down to the hilt.

“You feel so good like this pussy was made for me,” he says, nestling his head into the crook of your neck and sinking his teeth in your skin. Your response is barely coherent, another mix of moans and curse words.

“Use your words, cyar’ika.”

“Harder, p-please. I can take it.”

He pokes his head up and meets your gaze again, lips curled into that damn devious smirk.

“I knew you could,” he says before kissing you. He draws his hips and slams into you. It’s a symphony of pants, whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, squelching sound your pussy makes. You tangle your hands in his hair, tugging on it lightly. He moans into the kiss and thrusts into you harder, until you cum around his cock. He pulls his head back and studies your face as you cum. Tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm ripples through you, core muscles spasming erratically.

“Good girl,” he says, repeating it over and over again while the pace of his thrusts never falters.

He cums inside you, balls deep and hitting the deepest angles inside you. You’re filled with the warm feeling of his release, looking at his face as he cums. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a soft O. The curls on his forehead are matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead. You can’t help but absentmindedly bring a hand to his cheek and stroke his facial hair. He’s beautiful.

He pulls out of you and sits between your legs. The post-orgasm clarity is settling in and you’re left with the reality of what just happened. You zip up your flight suit and sit up, looking at him with a wild expression in your eyes.

“What now?”

“Into the waters we go.”

He puts his cock away and stands up, offering you his hand. You stand and walk down the steps with him, slowly submerging yourself in the water, never letting go of his hand.

“Repeat after me: I swear on my name. And the names of the Ancestors, that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor… and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

You say the phrase back to him, looking in his eyes the entire time. Although you’ve just repented for your transgressions, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t matter. The feelings you have for him only run deeper after what just happened.

He leads you out of the water where you replace your helmets and reattach your jetpacks. He turns to you one last time before leaving and says, “No one can know.”

“No one can know,” you repeat before he takes off and you’re left with the stillness of it all, wondering if that will be the first and last time you have sex with your stepdad.

@pedrostories @littlemisspascal

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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bolithesenate · 5 months ago

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easy,

she's a domestic terrorist

i hope that helps 👍🏼

Satine Kryze should not be a sympathetic character.

A complex and tragic one? Sure. Every day of the week.

But she did not 'have a point', neither in-universe, not outside of the sw framework. She isn't a hero, neither of her own story, nor of someone else's. There is no way she wasn't a tool. You should not look at her and think 'this woman has done nothing wrong and what ultimately happened to Mandalore was to no part her fault'.

Because guys. Friends. Strangers on the interwebs.

Pacifism doesn't work.

And it certainly wouldn't have worked in motherfucking Star Wars – the 'wars' is literally in the title – for a system or series of systems who wanted to stay neutral.

YOU DON'T STAY NEUTRAL FOR LONG BY JUST SAYING 'YEAH, NO THANKS <3' TO A LARGE-SCALE CONFLICT.

source: I am Swiss, we've looked at this in history class. Extensively.

Satine was a dreamer (thanks Obi-Wan) who was allowed to keep her delusions because they actively benefitted Palpatine's plans. And that's something you can quote me on. There is literally no other reason (apart from supremely bad writing but we'll leave that aside here) for her and her little friends' 'Alliance of Neutral Systems' or whatever to be allowed to exist.

Not that they were neutral in any way, shape or form, by the way.

So yeah sorry to the Satine stans, but you're idolizing a character that was written exclusively and specifically for Obi-Wan's manpain and who, in-universe, was a supremely bad politician. Because the level of mental dissonace needed to factually be a Republic System, have a seat in the fucking Republic Senate, rely upon their military for aid while actively proclaiming that All Violence Is Bad And Barbaric one sentence later AND THEN CLAIM TO BE NEUTRAL IN THE WHOLE CONFLICT – it's just mind-blowing. Even moreso that people actually look at this character and see something aspirational in her.

Again, I'll gladly dissect her character any day of the week. She is fascinating because of all the implications her existence as a head of state carries with it, as well as her deeply complicated family history and her relation to mandalorian culture.

But it just grates on me personally that that all gets ignored in favor of her being some sort of icon of white american saviorism (bc that's literally what she is) and her objectively bad political takes being treated like they are the only correct stance to be taken during the Clone Wars/Mandalorian Civil Wars.

If you think pacifism works and actually lets you stay neutral, I desperately urge you to open a history book. Because those two are mutually exclusive. Especially in the scenario that Star Wars paints.

#i really dont get the girlbossification she's gone through in fandom over the last few years #literally all we saw of her in tcw was her actively working towards killing her sister and working for pre #and when that plot succeeded and the results were Not Good (surprise surprise) she suddenly did a 180?#i've stopped watching the mandalorian the moment i heard she was gonna get the saber #bo-katan is a character i do not enjoy and do not see the point of bringing back #any if you say 'oh but maybe she's changed since mandalore was destroyed'#has she?#has she really?#bc all i see is that she keeps stalking a guy with Bigger Problems to get a symbol of rulership *coined* by the terrorist organization #that she was working with to AGAIN I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH kill her own sister #just bc that sister was satine does not make that a good motive #i could have enjoyed her in mando if she'd be treated differently. but like that she's come true by all the kryze entitlement #and the complete disregard for common sense #random boli thoughts #i must say though that the *idea* of 1 pacifist sister and 1 terrorist sister is very fun #just like always sw canon did not follow through on the implications #star wars #bo katan kryze

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now-you-sound-like-a-jedi · 7 months ago

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You know what? Fuck it. Here's a list of some of my Bo-Katan and Satine related headcanons

(most of these are dark and/or depressing because, well, it's them)

When they were kids, Satine taught Bo how to make flower crowns. Even after everything that happened, Bo never forgot it. She only ever made one in adulthood: a delicate wreath of white lilies which she left on Satine’s grave.

The first time Satine ever killed someone, she was 16: they were cornered by a rival clan at the start of the civil wars, and she did what she had to do to protect herself and her little sister. The first time Bo-Katan killed someone was also at the age of 16: Pre Vizsla put a blaster in her hand, pointed it at a deserter's head and told her to fire it, or the next shot would be through her own head.

They used to have matching beskar'ta necklaces. When Bo ran away to Concordia, she left hers sitting on her pillow. Satine kept it, and when Bo-Katan went back to Kalevala decades later, long after Satine was dead, she found it and started wearing it again under her armour.

After Bo-Katan left, Satine used to leave the window in Bo's old bedroom open a few inches every night before she went to sleep. Her guards kept trying to dissuade her, saying that it posed a security risk, but Satine didn't care. She just wanted to make sure her little sister had a way to get in if she ever decided to come home.

Bo-Katan got that scar on her forehead from the first and last time she ever spoke up in Satine’s defence in front of Pre Vizsla.

Bo-Katan never wore makeup in her Death Watch days because Pre told her it made her look too much like Satine. After they were both dead, she started wearing it all the time.

Bo-Katan loves and hates talking to Ahsoka about Satine. Ahsoka is the only living friend she has left who actually knew her sister, and Bo likes being able to talk about her with one of the rare people who never believed any of Pre Vizsla's lies about her. But, at the same time, it always leaves her feeling guilty, because Ahsoka did more to help Satine in the few years they were acquainted than Bo did in her entire life.

After reclaiming Mandalore, one of the first things Bo-Katan does is rebuild Peace Park in Sundari. She replaces the war memorial and carves Satine’s name on it, and plants a garden of wildflowers around it.

#this isn't even a fraction of my headcanons about these two but this post is already long enough #bo and satine's relationship intrigues and upsets me in equal measure okay #satine kryze #bo katan kryze #kryze sisters #star wars headcanons #star wars #the clone wars

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year ago

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Do You Want Me, Cyar'ika [happy]

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: HEY THIS IS DARK WATCH OUT, stalking, manhandling, slight choking if you kind of squint, dubcon (reader is willing, but is def under the influence of the darksaber), smut, hand job, mentions of blood and injury, mentions of permanent scarring of the reader

Word Count: 6,717

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Part One: Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika Part Two: I Love You, Cyar'ika

[a/n: THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING TO THIS TRILOGY. My suggestion is to read the version you really want first b/c the beginning half is the exact same. It's only the end that differs.]

"sometimes, you just need a fresh start. a new beginning. a clean slate. just get rid of everything going wrong and make it go right." -the importance of starting over

The echoing of your footsteps bounced off the walls and the quick pace seemed to match the racing of your heart. No looking back. You needed to get to the tarmac. Din was supposed to be in the war room with Bo Katan and the others in his council discussing something or another. This morning he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to meet you for lunch until a bit later in the afternoon. Half an hour after he had told you this, you grabbed your stuff and started running.

You had the right idea months ago when you first tried to leave. This was going to be your last chance. If he caught you this time you don’t know that you’d ever get the chance to run away again. Memories of that beskar chain and anklet hung heavy in your mind as you picked up your pace. A terrifying thought occurred to you. Would he stop there? How far would Din go to keep you by his side? You truly believed, deep down, that Din wouldn’t hurt you, but… were you just being delusional? At some point, he’d consider the line to be crossed.

The tarmac was mostly empty. The few Mandalorians that were in the area gave you curious looks, but nobody dared stop you. That was a side effect of being ‘owned’ by the Mand’alor and though you found it disturbing previously it was truly working in your favor now. Everybody on this rock, save for a few people like Bo Katan, were too terrified of Din to even look in your direction for longer than a few seconds. As you sprinted to the closest ship you knew how to pilot, the Mandalorians began to disperse. You had a suffocating suspicion that they were in the process of calling Din.

You made it further than you had last time. You were on the ship, ramp closing behind you, and you clambered into the cockpit and got things running. As the ship slowly began to rise, you saw him. Din stood at the edge of the tarmac with his hands on his hips. The wind tunneling through the ship’s exhaust and down onto the ground below caused Din’s thick cape and hair to whip around. Even from this distance, you could feel Din’s gaze burning straight through you. The look on his face was haunting⏤ a mix of devastation and unbridled rage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Even after the ship was in the atmosphere and Din was far out of view, you stared down at Mandalore in pain. Your chest ached as your heart already begun to miss the man you were running from.

Before allowing yourself to wallow, you input the coordinates to Tatooine and let the ship slip into hyperdrive. The second those all too familiar lines of blurred space cast a blue glow in the cockpit, you pulled your knees up into your chest to bury your face there. If somebody were to ask you the exact reason why tears streamed down your face you would not be able to give them an answer.

You just knew, everything was wrong.

You agonized over who to send a message to. As you drew ever near to Tatooine, doubts began to plague your mind. Should you reach out to Boba and Fennec? They were obvious choices because they cared about Din and they knew how to hold their own in a fight. However, you had a nagging fear at the back of your mind that would not silence. It blared like a ghostly siren. Din was not himself right now, and though you knew without a doubt that he would not hurt you, could the same be said for Boba and Fennec? Especially if they stood in the way of Din getting to you?

You hated that you were unsure of that.

You hated that a part of you honestly thought Din might hurt his friends or worse.

There was no changing course though. The best solution you had was to get in touch with Luke Skywalker. He might have answers about this. Even if he didn’t, having him and Ahsoka by your side would help. Three Jedi surely could get that cursed saber away from Din. Granted, there was no assurance that separating the saber from the love of your life would actually work, but it was all you had. It was the last bit of hope you could cling to.

Upon your arrival to Tatooine, you immediately slunk away to a crowded cantina. You were not a fool. You knew Din was not just going to let you wander away and you knew he was one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy. He was very good at what he did⏤ especially when passionate about the mission. That didn’t leave you very much time to get the information you needed.

You sent out a decoded distress message to the number Skywalker had left you when he took Grogu. He left it strictly for emergencies and this obviously classified as one. After it was out in the universe, all you could do was wait. So you saddled up to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a drink. It was all you could think to do. This was the first time in ages that you were in a space not clouded by Din’s presence. You hadn’t realized until now how suffocating it had been.

Being with Din, watching his slow descent, you had gotten accustomed to that cloud of darkness that hung over his head. To the point where you didn’t notice it worsening and worsening. It felt as if your body had acclimated to living under the ocean. Your body grew used to the crushing depths. Your lungs shriveled from the lack of oxygen. Your eyes grew blind from the absence of light. Now? Sitting at this dingy, dirty bar, it was as if someone had forced you up from the ocean floor and dragged you quickly up to the surface. It was jarring. The fresh air was painful as it filled your lungs, your eyes burned from the disappearance of darkness, and suddenly it was freedom that felt wrong.

A sudden beeping made you glance down at the communicator. Eyes wide, you answered it, “Hello? Luke Skywalker?” Your name was spoken over the line in concern. “Thank the Maker. I⏤ Din and I are in trouble.”

“What has happened?”

“It’s…” You took in a slow breath and began to walk him through what was going on. You started with the moment he took Grogu and described every single downward step the two of you had taken with the saber in his possession. When you finished, your throat felt thick with emotion. “I got away, but he’ll be after me soon. I know it. Luke, I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I need help, and I’m too afraid to go to anybody other than you.”

“You were right to reach out to me.” Luke sighed. “This needs to be handled by us. No need to risk anyone else.”

The thought flickered through your head without warning. You were okay with putting Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka in danger. It came quickly and you swatted it away just as fast, but it felt like poison. Obviously, Boba and Fennec meant more to you than Luke and Ahsoka. You were closer to the first two. However, it still didn’t make risking the lives of the latter two okay. The fact that the belief attempted to nestle in your head reminded you of the dark saber. Your hand wrapped around your own lightsaber⏤ seeking comfort in the energy it radiated.

“You believe he’ll follow you, correct?” Luke questioned.

“Absolutely.” You answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Luke hummed on the other end of the line in thought. “I will send you coordinates. Come to us. The Mandalorian will follow and we will handle this from there. You just need to get here. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, trying to convince yourself. “I can. I’ll leave as soon as you send me those coordinates.”

“Of course. Call us again if you have trouble.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended and you threw back the remainder of the drink before rushing for the door. It would take fifteen minutes to get to the tarmac and you assumed you’d get the coordinates by then to use. The crowded Tatooine streets made you anxious. Shoulders clipped into yours as people rushed past you in the opposite direction. It felt like there were eyes burning into your skin, but every scan of the crowd told you it had to just be your paranoia.

Your communicator beeped again and a quick glance down revealed the coordinates you’d be heading to. Good. You quickened your pace to turn a corner to the last leg of the path that would take you to the public tarmac when you spotted him. A flash of glinting silver under the hot Tatooine suns. Your feet came to a screeching halt, and for a moment the two of you stood stock still. Din was down the road. Closer to the tarmac’s entrance than to you. His hands rested on his hips, and he was helmetless. Even from this distance the darkness swimming in his brown eyes sent a chill down your spine. He had been a sight to behold in his full armor, a faceless figure of intimidation. However, you knew now that it was worse without the helmet. Actually seeing those burning eyes, rather than just feel them, made your stomach flip.

The crowd ebbed and flowed, a small group passing between the two of you, and when they passed fully Din was gone. You couldn’t see him. Without a second more of hesitation, you spun on your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction of where he had been standing. The public tarmac was a bust. You’d never be able to successfully route yourself back around, but you still needed a ship.

Peli’s shop. As soon as it came to mind, you altered course to head in that direction. You prayed that Peli wasn’t home. Hopefully she’d be out losing credits to a group of jawas in sabbac or conning some poor sap at the market. Your chest burned in the effort it took to keep your quick pace, your heart pounded painfully, and you could still feel Din’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced over your shoulder or down alleys there was no sign of silver, but you knew⏤ you just knew⏤ that he was hot on your heels somehow.

You finally reached Peli’s shop and the garage was closed which meant she was not home, but you remembered the way in through the back. Peli had shown it to you and Din ages ago. Even if she didn’t have a client’s ship sitting in the bay, you could steal her land speeder and come up with a different plan from there. Once in, your eyes landed on a small ship parked in the main bay and your lips curled up into a relieved smile. Find the FOB, get the ship open and started. You rushed to Peli’s office and cursed the wrecked state it was in. Her baseline was chaotic and it showed in her organization choices. You dug through the mess until you found a FOB that seemed to match the ship waiting for you.

Victorious, you sprinted out of the office back down to the bay, but the second your feet stepped into the open area something hard slammed into you. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed on the ground. Din’s features stared down at you as his body straddled yours. One of his gloved hands pinned down your dominant hand while the other clamped down on your throat⏤ not enough to restrict air, but just enough to convey his warning. You could see your fearful eyes reflected in the beskar covering him as he towered over you. Din’s face didn’t look angry or worried. He didn’t look scared or confused. Din looked cold. Emotionless. Somehow that was worse.

“Din⏤”

“Don’t.” Din said sharply. The fingers on your neck flexed once. “Don’t speak, cyar’ika.”

More suffocating than his demeanor and broad figure was the poisonous energy seeping out of the saber hung on his belt. You were drowning in it, struggling to keep your head above it’s dark waters, and Din was pushing you beneath the waves. He held you under. Din was a man drowning and in your attempt to rescue him he was dragging you to the depths as well.

“How could you do this to me?” Din asked. His voice cracked⏤ the only sign of his pain. “Cyar’ika, you…” Din swallowed. A flash of heartbreak filled his expressive brown eyes and the degree of his hurt briefly made you feel guilty. Like you had been the one to betray him. “I love you. You are my everything. I would burn the world for you. How could⏤ How could you leave?”

“I never asked for you to burn the world for me, Din.” You whispered. “That’s not what I want.”

Din shifted and leaned down so he could rest his forehead against yours. His hand hung loosely around your throat, forearm pressed against your chest, and it was a position your body was familiar with. If you closed your eyes and gave into the darkness trying to claw its way down your throat and into your lungs, then you’d simply feel like you were sharing a private moment of intimacy with your love. Din’s lips suddenly ghosted against yours and you felt your body tremble.

“What is it you want?” Din begged. “I will give you anything. I just want you safe by my side.”

“I told you what I want, Din…”

Din sighed, his hot breath fanning across your lower face, “I can’t do that.” His voice was strained as if her were in agony. “The saber is how I protect you, cyar’ika.”

“You’re losing me because of that saber, baby.”

For the longest moment, Din remained silent. His eyes were closed and you could see him ruminating over something. After a second, he opened his eyes and Din’s eyebrows furrowed in defeat. A flicker of hope burned in your chest until he opened his mouth and spoke.

“Things were okay. We just need to start from scratch again. I know you hated that chain, cyar’ika, but it’s for the best.” Din said softly and your eyes widened at how serious his words were. How much he believed that to truly be the best path. “It won’t be forever, I swear it. Just until I trust you again.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. His soft despair turning to a firm demand. “There will be no argument. I’m taking you home.” You opened your mouth once more, but Din’s fingers began to tighten around your throat marginally. “You’re already in trouble, cyar’ika. Don’t make it worse.”

Panic began to make your heart race. You were sinking fast and the light was beginning to disappear from your sight⏤ your freedom with it. In a poor attempt at a final chance of survival, you spoke up despite his order to stay silent. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Din scoffed. “You understand why I find it hard to believe you.”

“I know.” You nodded. “Please, baby. I’m sorry. Please believe me. You know I love you.”

You could feel Din’s thumb around your neck tracing the skin under it as he stared down at you. He took in a deep breath and leaned in to press his forehead against yours once more. Din brushed his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty when you beg, cyar’ika.” That was the one thing you had working in your favor. Din always had a hard time telling you ‘no’ when your bodies were folded together like this. “I’ll hear you out, but let’s get to our ship first.”

“Why not now? Let me tell you how sorry I am, Din.” You begged and he let out a soft sigh as his eyes closed. Your eyes darted to the saber on his belt. If you ended up back on Mandalore it would be over. There would be no second chance. Determined, you rolled your hips up and just as you suspected you were met with the firmness of his half hard cock. Din groaned. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” Your non-dominant hand had been clutching at the hand he had at your throat, but you very slowly let it travel up his arm to bury in his soft hair. “Please, baby.”

You tilted your head up as much as you could with Din’s hand clamped around your neck. Carefully, in fear that too quick or sudden a movement would break the spell, you began to pull Din down closer. Din hesitated against the slight force of your hand only for a second before he slotted his lips against yours. As always, Din’s touch set you aflame. He released the wrist he had pinned and hooked that hand under your thigh to spread your legs so he could settle between them rather than straddle you. You should be focused on escape alone, but the taste of him made you hungry for more. You weren’t sure how much was your love for Din and how much was the saber twisting it into something recognizable.

Din’s teeth caught your lower lip, and he pulled back a breath, “You’re supposed to be showing me how sorry you are, cyar’ika.” He leaned back down to lick into your mouth, his kiss crushing and near painful as Din’s hips pressed firmly against yours. He left his lips close enough that you felt every word he spoke. “Yet here I am…” Din gave a sharp thrust and even with layers of clothes between the two of you he was able to snap the bulge of his erection right where your clit was hidden. You gasped at the pleasure that rocketed up your spine as hot pangs arousal pooled in your lower belly. “...doing all the damn work.”

At his words, you closed the space to press your lips against his again, deepening the kiss, as your hands traveled to his belt. You undid his belt with practiced ease, and while one hand slipped under the waistband of his flight suit to find the base of his cock the other went to grasp the saber.

Your fingers brushed against the thrumming metal of the saber for only a second before Din’s hand slapped on top of yours pinning it to the saber. Everything froze. Din and you were both panting, breathless from your kiss. You had one hand stuffed into his pants with your hand pressed against his skin on the space above the base of his cock and the other on the saber. Din had one hand tightening around your neck while his other crushed your fingers against the darksaber. He chuckled and the sound sent chills throughout your body.

“Let go, Cyar’ika.” Din’s voice was gruff and seemed to rumble out from his chest. You began to try and pull both hands back, but Din grunted. “Not both. Just the saber.” You sucked in a sharp breath and remained frozen. “What? You don’t want to finish what you started?” He shoved one hand down his pants to roughly grab yours and force your hand to wrap around the entirety of his throbbing cock. It was like this tense moment was spurning him onwards⏤ filling him with a thrill you had never seen before. “I thought you were sorry.”

You hated how his words made your own core ache with want.

Din snapped the saber off his belt tossed it off to the side. Too far for you too reach, but close enough that its influence weighed heavy on you still. He did the same to your own weapon which was hooked in its usual place on your belt. Din threw that one further, more carelessly, before lowering his face back down toward yours. His hand was still wrapped around yours, and Din thrusted into your dry grip. It couldn't be comfortable you thought, but Din moaned in your ear as if it were already drunk in pleasure.

“Din…” You murmured.

His hot mouth enveloped yours, tongue licking into you, as he thrusted twice more. Din’s teeth caught your lower lip again, but this time he bit down hard enough that the taste of metallic blood flashed across your taste buds. You yelped, he thrusted into your grip, and then Din pulled back just enough that you could see his lips painted with the red of your own blood.

“Are you going to make me take you?” He asked in a harsh whisper. “Or will you come willingly?” Din pressed his bloodstained lips against the side of your face, dragging, and you shuddered as a cold, but tempting, chill filled your body. “I’ll spend eternity chasing you, cyar’ika, but it will be more enjoyable if you just agree to be mine again.”

His lips found yours once more, and for one second you weren’t in your body. Your mind clouded with a sort of vision. You saw Din sitting on Mandalore’s throne splattered with blood he had drawn from others and his features masked in a cold indifference. The saber was not on his belt, but any confusion you had on it’s location faded as a different version of you came into view. She wore an elegant and revealing gown that was as dark as a starless night, and the inactive saber was held tight in her grip as blood covered her hands and left a trail of red petals as she passed. While Din’s face held a cold indifference this version of you looked feral with enjoyment.

She settled herself on Din’s lap and the mask he wore cracked to reveal adoration as he stared up at this other you in awe. Without wasting a beat, this unrecognizable version of yourself pulled Din into a firm kiss. The blood on the hands that resembled yours smeared against his stainless beskar, and the blood on his face left smears along features you spent your entire life staring at in a mirror. Suddenly, the other you broke away to turn and it seemed she was glaring directly at you.

The saber in her hand activated and burned with a soul sucking energy that seemed to draw you in.

“Be mine.” Din’s voice snapped you back into the moment. “Be my queen, cyar’ika. I want no else.” He pressed his lips to yours again but in a way that was too soft to match the rest of this situation. The tip of his tongue dragged through the torn tissue of your lower lip and you shivered. “Let me protect you as you rule by my side.”

And you wanted it. It was like your body had finally reached the lowest depths and your lungs were filling with the dark water you were drowning in. It was almost peaceful allowing yourself to settle into the cold⏤ allowing it to swallow you whole. Distantly, you could feel the crystal in your lightsaber desperately calling out to you, but you were certain no light could reach you where you were. Cold turned to pleasure as Din’s hands began to map the familiar planes of your body.

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered. Din molded his lips to yours and he pulled your hand out from where it was hidden under his waistband so he could have to room and access to begin frantically undoing your own belt. You lifted your hips so he could tug your pants down past your ass and off entirely. He didn’t bother with his own pants, deciding to just tug them down enough to be useful, and Din settled between your legs. As he worked himself out of his pants he planted his lips against the hollow of your neck.

You tilted your chin up, panting, as you gave him more room to work his tongue against the skin there. Every atom of your being was throbbing and aching for the man on top of you, but briefly a glimmer of pain lanced through your heart. A reminder. You thought you were too deep in for the light to reach you, but your lightsaber’s call managed one faint echo. A weak lifeline back to the surface. Without thinking, your hand reached reached out to where the sabers were cast aside and for the first time in your life you felt the Force do more than just read an energy. It enveloped the space around you and seconds later something firm was in the palm of your hand.

You cried out, managing to roll Din and yourself over so you now straddled him. The saber activated in your hand and rather than the warm familiar glow you wanted, you were greeted by the soul sucking, burning energy of the darksaber lighting up in your hands. Your eyes widened in alarm. The power that washed over you was overwhelming. It rocketed up your arm and pierced your very soul. Din laid on the ground under you as you stared at the cold glow of the saber burning in your hands, and you heard him begin to laugh in amusement.

“Maker, you’ve never looked prettier, cyar’ika.” Din grinned⏤ the look in his dark eyes was wild with desire. “How does it feel?”

Your skin was crawling as if someone was holding a live wire to it. A tremor shook your body and it took you a moment to detangle your mind away from the raw pleasure that screamed out to you. The darksaber was sinking it’s cold claws into every aspect of who you were and you could feel your reality slipping away from you. You tightened your hand around the hilt and began to squeeze. It was hard to focus the Force to bend to your will with the darksaber’s influence pressing down on you, but you clenched your teeth and squeezed harder. The crack of bending metal filled the air.

“No.” Din growled and his hands roughly pawed at you, to try and take the saber from your grip, but you raised your hands up above your head and continued to squeeze until you felt actual pain began to seep into your body. “Stop! Don’t!”

The metal cracked further, heat began to lick out of the hilt as the saber’s burning energy flickered and grew wild. It was burning your hands, leaving the flesh it touched raw. Din screamed out at you to stop again, but you couldn’t hear him over the high pitched ringing the darksaber’s kyber crystal seemed to emit. The saber was angry⏤ the saber was scared. You focused every bit of your body’s energy to channel the Force. You screamed in agony as the saber was crushed under your grip. The crystal cracked and the energy stored in it grew volatile and unstable. With one final push of power, the crystal shattered into pieces within the crushed hilt of the saber and the release of energy blew you backwards into the dirt.

Your ears from ringing from the blast. Your head ached painfully, you could feel blood matted in your hair from where the back of your head had slammed into the ground, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the miserable and excruciating pain that was radiating up your arms. Shakily, you lifted your hands up to try and examine them. Even though your sight was growing blurry, you could still make out the state of your hands. Scorched flesh, raw and torn, greeted you and warm blood was dripping from the spots where jagged bits of kyber crystal embedded in your skin. It rained down on you.

“No, no, no, no.”

Din was suddenly in your line of vision as he cupped the side of your face in fear and disbelief. Your hands, heavy with exhaustion, fell limp and they didn’t even hurt much anymore. You were having trouble feeling anything actually. “Please, Maker, no.” Din gasped. His voice was ragged and hoarse. Tears were swimming in his eyes and for the first time in ages, you recognized the clarity. “Cyar’ika, no, please…”

Your lips twitched up in a smile as you gazed up at him. You sighed in relief, “It’s you.” Din’s face crumpled as the tears streaked down his cheeks as he tried to pull you closer. “You’re back, baby.”

His voice seemed far away. As your eyelids grew heavy, you still felt content. If these were to be your last moments you were more than happy to share them with Din Djarin. Your Din Djarin. Pure and kind hearted. Loving and soft. Darkness seemed to envelope you, but it was not the cold darkness the saber used to force you into. This was warm and tender. You felt enveloped in love and your own kyber crystal, loyal and strong, whispered a lullaby as you relaxed into sleep.

[three months later]

It took you ages to find Din. After waking up in Boba’s palace, post bacta tank infusion, you realized he had slipped away without a word. Boba and Fennec had comforted you, but the only message Din left you was a soft apology passed down along friends. The fact that he hid from you was proof enough that the darksaber’s influence was gone from him. You felt it no longer either. Occasionally, you’d wake from a nightmare and a lingering darkness would cloud your thoughts, but it always dissipated with the morning light.

You walked slowly toward the bench where he sat armorless. Din wasn’t wearing a shred of beskar, had not a single weapon on him, as he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the distance where rolling hills and mountains sat. What made him hard to track was he stayed constantly on the move, but you were surprised that this was where he allowed you to catch up with him. You stopped by his side, Din didn’t turn to look at you, and you followed his gaze to see Grogu far in the distance sitting with Luke Skywalker on the crest of a small mountain.

“I don’t know why I came here.” Din mumbled quietly. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Din⏤”

“I don’t deserve to be here.” He added. Din hung his head down and lifted his hands to rub at his face in exhaustion. He shook his head once. “I was supposed to leave before your ship ever entered the atmosphere, but I… I got stuck.”

That made more sense. In a moment of weakness, he stopped to see his son and he hadn’t been able to tear himself away to flee you like he usually did. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but your fingers only managed to graze his shirt before he pushed to stand began to stalk away.

“Din!” You cried out and followed his brisk pace. He walked back to where his small ship at waiting. “Din, please, wait.”

“Leave, cyar’ika.” Din replied firmly.

“No.” You snapped and raced up the ramp into his ship’s tiny cargo hold to slide into his path to stop him. You expected to see anger in his eyes from your disruption, but the only emotion his large brown eyes conveyed was pain and desperation. You felt your heart ache at the way he stared down at you in misery. You shook your head. “Din, will you please talk to me?”

Din swallowed, his voice was hoarse, “There is nothing to talk about.”

You reached out to rest your hands on his chest, and he glanced down to stare at them. The bacta tank had saved your hands and left you with full use of them, but the scarring remained. The skin was discolored with burn scars and jagged lines where kyber crystals had pierced your skin and left their mark.

“This wasn’t your fault, baby.” You whispered as you noticed how intently he was staring at your hands. Din shook his head and tried to pull away from your touch but you tightened your hands into fists⏤ clutching his shirt like a lifeline. “Din, I don’t blame you.”

“You should!” Din suddenly yelled and your eyes widened. His hands wrapped around your wrists as he held your gaze. His voice shook. “You should blame me.” Din took in a sharp gasp. “This was all my fault. I was weak.”

“Din.”

“I remember it all.” Din closed his eyes in agony. “Maker, I⏤ I was manhandled you. I chained you to the fucking wall. Held you hostage.”

“Din⏤”

“Hunted you down like a bounty. Forced you into the position where you had to use your body just to distract me so you⏤ I⏤ Maker. Even if you don’t blame me, cyar’ika, I do. I don’t deserve access to my weapons. I don’t deserve the armor of a Mandalorian. I don’t deserve you.”

You held onto him tighter as he tried to pull your hands away from him. “I love you, Din.” He scoffed. “I do. I love you. The darksaber was to blame for all of that and I stayed by your side because I knew that and I refused to lose you to it. I stayed knowing the risk.” Din’s eyes were still shut tightly, but you could see tears collect in his eyelashes. “And I can’t lose you now.”

“Cyar’ika…” He mumbled.

“Open your eyes.” You demanded. You released his shirt but only so you could cup his face with your hands. Din’s entire body trembled under your touch and his hands squeezed your wrists. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me.” Finally, after an agonizing moment, Din opened his eyes and you offered him a small smile. “I love you.” He let out a shaky gasp. “And I can’t sit idly by while you punish yourself for sins that you shouldn’t have to bear. Please don’t run from me. Please let me stay. I’ll keep following you all over the galaxy if I have to or⏤ or if you don’t want me then I’ll… I’ll stop. If that’s what you really want, then I won’t follow.” Din leaned into your touch. “I’m not trying to control or torture you with my presence, I just… I miss you, baby.”

Din closed his eyes again and loosened his grip on your wrists so he could trace them up and lay them over your smaller hands resting on his jaw. He sighed. “I hurt you.” His thumbs traced the scarred skin on the back of your hands. “I did this to you.”

“No, you didn’t. The darksaber did, and I chose to fight that damned thing.”

“If I had been stronger against it then you never would’ve had to.”

“You had no way of knowing, Din.” You shook your head. “It even took me a while to realize how dangerous that saber was and I’m Force sensitive. Nobody in the galaxy would have been able to resist the influence of that kyber crystal even if they knew what it could do. You were blindsided by it.”

Din opened his eyes. “You resisted against it.”

You pressed your lips together then pulled his face toward yours so his forehead was resting against yours. “I knew what it was doing, and it was still the hardest thing I have ever done.” You admitted. “Even now I still feel that darkness crawling across my skin in the dead of the night. Like a ghost haunting me.” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “But you know how I did it?” Din didn’t respond, but you pressed onward. “I did it because I wasn’t going to let anything take you from me. I was not going to let it keep your soul⏤ I was not going to lose you.” Quickly, you pushed forward a pressed a chaste lip to his lips. “Not then. Not now. I will always fight for you. Even if it’s your own guilt I have to fight.”

“Do you want me, cyar’ika?” Din whispered⏤ his voice so soft and faint you almost thought you imagined it.

You caressed your thumbs against his cheekbones. “I will always want you, baby. Always.”

To prove your point, you tenderly slotted your lips against his. You stayed motionless, just holding him to you, and you could feel a tear trace the outline of your thumb before reaching his lips. It was as if the taste of his salty tear awakened something in him. Din’s mouth began to move against yours desperately. You shifted your hands down and around his neck to cling to him. Din’s own arms wrapped tightly around your torso so he could pull you flush against his body.

His lips suddenly left your lips to press sloppy, desperate kisses against your jawline then down your neck. Between every touch of his lips against your skin he whispered an apology or an exclamation of love. You tried to drag his lips back up to yours, but he surprised you by falling to his knees. You gasped and stared down at him. Din rested on his heels as his hands hugged the back of your thighs. He stared up at you in adoration, but you could still see agony there as well.

“I am so sorry.” He pleaded like a man begging in prayer at an altar. “I love you, and I am so sorry. I could spend an eternity reminding you of that and it still would not be enough to express how I feel.” Din leaned forward and rest his forehead against your hip. “Ni cuy’ nass ures gar. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim. Ni cuy’ hut’uun.”

You slowly peeled his forehead away from your hip and his hands off your thighs so you could kneel in front of him as well. You held his face once more and wiped away the lingering tears that stained his cheeks. “Cin vhetin.” Din’s eyes widened at the words. A phrase you had Boba teach you. “That’s what I want.”

“Cyar’ika…”

“I hate seeing you speak so poorly of yourself.” Your bottom lip quivered and your throat felt thick. “It pains me to watch you hate yourself⏤ when I love you so much.” Din sucked in a sharp breath. “So, if you love me still, Din, that’s what you’ll give me. Cin vhetin.”

Din paused before he gave you a curt nod. You pulled him into a tight hug, arms clinging to his shoulders, and you were relieved to feel Din hold you just as securely. As if you were both terrified to feel the other slip away again.

[three months later]

You woke with a start, eyes snapping open in the dark of your bedroom, and the cold, cruel ghost of the darksaber gripped your spine. It crawled up slowly as you tried to push away the lingering nightmare and piece together your reality. The bed under you shifted as someone climbed in beside you. A heavy hand slipped over your abdomen as Din shifted his closer. His bare chest pressed tightly against your back as he held you close.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Din whispered in your ear, voice heavy with sleep. “Grogu woke up wanting a glass of water.” That was your reality. You had the love of your life back, and the green boy you and Din both adopted as your own was back in your lives. You, and the ones you loved, were nestled in your cozy home on Nevarro. Din’s lips pressed against your neck. “Riduur?” The new nickname a reminder of the peace that came with your reality. “Are you alright?”

The warmth of his skin against yours cast away the chill the memory of the darksaber brought. One of his bare, thick thighs slid between your legs until every part of you was tangled with every part of him. You let out a soft sigh of content and nodded. “I’ve never been better, baby.”

Din peppered soft kisses against your shoulders and you fell asleep safe in his arms.

mando'a translations:

Ni cuy’ nass ures gar: I am nothing without you. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim: I am a despicable person. Ni cuy’ hut’uun: I am a coward. Cin Vhetin: fresh start, clean slate (term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards)

[here is the dark ending]

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #female reader #jedi reader #dark!din djarin #din djarin smut

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gffa · 2 years ago

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ABSOLUTELY UNWELL ABOUT THIS. This is Kalevala, this is House Kryze. This is her family’s palace. The one she left when she didn’t agree with her sister’s politics, the Duchess of Mandalore, Satine Kryze. But now Satine is dead, she’ll never walk those halls again. Their parents are dead. And the place is as empty as a tomb, only a lone droid keeping watch, who just lets Din pass by. Bo-Katan would have grown up in those halls, would have seen her parents on that throne, may even have seen her sister on that throne. Now she’s here, lounging on it like she doesn’t have a care in the world, but everything about her screams of burning fury. She lashes out at Din, maybe there’s some truth that Mandalore were a fractured people, but it’s not Din’s fault, it’s not the Children of the Watch’s fault, it’s nobody but the Empire’s fault. But she is consumed with her grief and her rage and her hurt, that she let every member of her family down, let her parents down, let her sister down, let her subjects down. Yes, they abandoned her, melted away, and she’s angry about that, but she’s angry that she failed them, too. Yes, Din’s people weren’t there to help fight, but he’s just the one standing in front of her at this moment, prodding the aching bruises of her failure, so of course she lashes out at him. She’s surrounded herself with ghosts because that’s all she has left--and that place is full of ghosts and nothing else. Not a single soul there besides the two of them and Bo-Katan could be anywhere in the galaxy, but she went home and sat amongst them, because every inch of that place, every secret room she knew as a child, every hallway, every window, would all be jagged edges cutting into her. “I wish I was good at something other than war.” “Your people need a new kind of leader.” “My sister tried that. I never understood her idealism.” Bo-Katan tried so damn hard to be a leader and it all crumbled to ash. All she’s good at is war and death.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #bo katan kryze #meta

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ak-vintage · 2 months ago

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Quarry - Chapter 23

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, MAJOR ANGST, canon-typical violence and peril

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

The tension on the bridge of Moff Gideon’s cruiser was palpable as you waited for Din’s rendezvous. At the conclusion of the firefight, both Bo-Katan and Koska had removed their helmets, and although she had never struck you as a particularly warm person, the fury on Bo-Katan’s face at being thwarted by Gideon once again had physical chills tripping down your spine. You watched her strong jaw twitch as she ground her teeth, working to rein in her anger as she paced. Fennec and Cara both seemed to be watching your Mandalorian companions warily, and you felt their concern match your own.

If Moff Gideon wasn’t on the bridge, where had he gone? Had he escaped somehow without your party’s notice? Was he elsewhere on the ship, hiding?

If he truly was gone, and Bo-Katan had lost her opportunity to accept his surrender, what would that mean for your alliance with the princess and her vassal?

You tried not to allow that thought to take up too much space in your mind. For now, your concern was Din and the success of his mission. Once he had successfully retrieved Grogu from the brig and joined the rest of the boarding party, you could discuss more what to do about Gideon. Until then, there was little left for you to do but wait.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to remain idle for long. Just as you were getting to your feet, your breath once again steady and your nerves calm after the fight through the ship, the bridge’s blast doors slid open, and in strode Din.

The moment your eyes locked on his visor, you were closing the distance between you without another thought, cataloguing every detail of his appearance with every step you took. The first thing you noticed was that the bounty hunter appeared uninjured, his armor intact, his flight suit unmarred. That told you nothing about what his body might look like underneath his many layers, or how many bruises he might now be sporting, but for now, it was enough for you to know that he wasn’t bleeding anywhere.

Second, you noticed Grogu, his little body tucked securely into the crook of Din’s arm. He, too, looked well. A bit lethargic, perhaps, but otherwise unhurt, and the relief of that realization nearly had your knees buckling beneath you. Your boy was all right. You could have wept.

But then there was the other man Din had trailing along in front of him, limp and bloodied and looking very much the worse for wear. Wrists bound in a familiar pair of durasteel cuffs and dressed head-to-toe in a black armored uniform, the man stumbled through the door at Din’s none-too-gentle urging. His mouth was stained red with dried blood, like he had been hit there, and you could feel his dark eyes assessing you as you approached, taking the measure of you just as you were him.

“What happened?”

Bo-Katan’s sharp question shattered the silence, and you turned to see her staring down at Din from the platform at the front of the bridge. She looked utterly shaken, eyes wide and brow drawn with the first strong emotion you had seen on her face since you had met her. For someone who was normally so put together, so stoic and reserved, seeing such intensity of feeling broadcast plainly on her hawk-like features was jarring.

Anger. Betrayal. Devastation. All of them inexplicably directed at your bounty hunter.

You slid up next to Din as quickly as you could manage, giving his mysterious prisoner a wide berth. Opening your arms, you wordlessly gestured for him to pass Grogu to you. Whatever conflict was about to come to a head, you knew he would want to keep the boy out of the line of fire.

You assumed rightly. The Mandalorian kept his eyes on Bo-Katan but handed the child off to you without protest, and as he did so, you took note of the object that he held in his other hand for the first time. A sword, unlike any you had ever seen before. It had a thick hilt made of some dark metal, and its pitch-black blade was long – straight on one side, curved on the other. Even under the bright lights of the bridge, it glowed brightly around the edges, and you swore you could see little filaments of light tracking through the blade itself, creating intricate patterns of pure white against the contrasting darkness.

It looked like the kind of weapon that ought not to exist, like something out of a fairytale.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara answered triumphantly. In a few long strides, she was clapping Din on the shoulder fraternally then dropping a gentle pat onto Grogu’s wispy-haired head. “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

Him, she said.

Ah. The pieces were starting to come together for you now. The limping man in the black uniform with the bloody lips and the calculating eyes – that was the mysterious Moff Gideon.

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Gideon remarked coolly. His voice was low and cultured, and though he sounded a bit swollen around the mouth, he spoke with the confidence of someone who was accustomed to others listening when he spoke. Flicking his dark gaze up to Bo-Katan, he addressed his next words to her. “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Your hand was on the grip of your blaster before you could think, the weapon drawn from your holster and trained on him before you could take your next breath. You cupped the back of Grogu’s little head in your palm protectively and tucked him tight against your breast. You had just gotten the both of them back; like hell would this man take either one of them from you now.

Cara, too, seemed unamused by this comment. Gathering a fistful of his long, black cape in a rough grip, she threw Gideon to the ground at her feet. He let out a muffled grunt as his body slammed into the shallow step that led up to the front of the bridge, though this did little to deter his antagonistic attitude. With a satisfied, almost amused smirk, he turned to Din and quipped, “It’s yours now.”

“What is?” the bounty hunter deadpanned.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you.”

You felt your brows raise and glanced between Din, Gideon, and Bo-Katan, mind spinning. The latter didn’t seem to be able to look the others in the eye, her gaze permanently angled away, her lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, there was some significance to the strange sword in Din’s hand that you weren’t privy to.

Din shrugged then raised the sword, and you watched as the strange black blade seemed to retract back into the handle. You realized then that the sword hadn’t merely glowed – it was made of light.

Without preamble, the bounty hunter stretched out his hand and offered the sword’s handle, now inert, to Bo-Katan. “Now, it belongs to her.”

But the princess made no move to take the sword, and Gideon merely laughed from his slumped position on the floor. “She can’t take it. It must be won. In battle,” he said mockingly. “In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

You adjusted your grip on your blaster, and Grogu squirmed against your body with a whine. Shushing him softly, you kept your eyes trained on the tense scene before you. Bo-Katan wouldn’t attack Din over this sword, not after they had fought together, not when Din trusted her so completely.

Would she?

The bounty hunter didn’t seem to put much stock into anything Gideon was saying. Rather than getting defensive, or preparing for her to turn on him, he simply extended the sword handle to her once again. “I yield. It’s yours.”

“Ohhh, no.”

Moff Gideon’s sinister chuckle had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, and you were suddenly, viscerally reminded of Orron Halcard – your foreman, your jailer. The two men looked absolutely nothing alike, but something about the cold, slimy arrogance of their laughter was eerily similar, and you gritted your teeth against the wave of nausea the sound inspired in you. The man you feared – the man you hated – was on the other side of the galaxy, you reminded yourself. You needed to stay present.

“It doesn’t work that way,” the moff continued, staggering uneasily to his feet, bound wrists extended awkwardly out in front of him. You flipped the safety off on your blaster pistol with trembling fingers. “The Darksaber doesn’t have power – the story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

Defeat heavy on her strong, square shoulders, Bo-Katan cast a forlorn glance at the sword hilt, still held aloft in Din’s palm, offered freely. It was mere inches from her hand, and yet you knew from the way she tugged her gaze away from its allure, landing somewhere in the middle distance between him and Gideon, that she could not bring herself to reach out and take it.

“He’s right,” she admitted. Her voice was soft, resigned, and tinged with grief. A pang of empathy tightened in your chest at the sound, so foreign in her commanding voice.

Your Mandalorian, however, appeared undeterred. With a sigh that crackled through his helmet modulator, he repeated, “Come on, just take it.”

A muscle flinched in her jaw, but just as she was about to open her mouth and respond, a shrill alarm sounded from one of the consoles, and you all startled at the sound. A proximity alert, your memory supplied as Fennec darted over to the screeching security station. Something was approaching the ship, and it was coming in fast.

“Well, perhaps she’ll get another crack at it,” Gideon scoffed wryly, entirely unconcerned. No one paid him any heed.

“The ray shields have been breached,” Fennec reported, her gloved hands flying rapidly over the console before her. “We’re being boarded.”

Bo-Katan cursed softly under her breath. “How many lifeforms?”

Looking up from her readings, the dark-haired assassin’s face was grave as she replied, “None.”

None. The word echoed between your ears for a beat, and you felt your steady grip on your blaster falter as your mind caught up with what that meant. No lifeform readings meant the assailants weren’t organic, weren’t alive. Droids, most likely. And if they were droids…

You glanced anxiously at Din, and you could feel the matching distress radiating off of him even from the other side of the bridge. He had come to the same conclusion as you. These were –

“You’re about to face off with the Dark Troopers,” Moff Gideon boasted. Your stomach sank in your abdomen as he put words to the thing you had most feared, the thing you had just come to realize was coming for all of you. With a smirk in Din’s direction, he continued, “You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.”

Holstering your blaster for now, you took up one of the many available bridge stations and thumbed through the controls, scrolling through the many live security camera feeds the ship’s crew had left queued up for monitoring. It didn’t take you long to find them – a long line of sleek, black machines clearly designed to emulate humanoid soldiers, covered head to toe in reflective armor plating and carrying blaster rifles the size of your thigh. Their helmets were reminiscent of Storm Trooper gear, though smaller, sharper, somehow more vicious, and their narrow eyes glowed even through the lens of the fuzzy, black-and-white security footage.

“They’re headed this way,” you called out, watching them march in flawless, mechanical formation as they drew ever closer to the bridge. Based on your readings, it looked like they had boarded the ship near the catwalk where you and the rest of your boarding party had been cornered by those two parties of troopers earlier. These droids had a way to go before they reached you, but with most of the ship’s crew dead or unconscious and the internal security systems disabled, nothing would stand in their way.

They would make the journey through the ship far faster than you had.

With a grunt, Cara gripped Gideon by his cape and shoved him back down onto the deck, and you felt the corner of your mouth curl in a smirk at the sound of his collapse. You had heard quite enough out of him for the foreseeable future.

As you continued to track the Dark Trooper’s movements through the ship, you felt more than saw Din approach you from behind. His hand closed around your shoulder, a soft breath of relief barely reaching your ears through his vocoder, and for the briefest moment, you felt your muscles relax beneath his touch. Glancing over your shoulder, you met his gaze through his dark visor and offered him a small, tight smile.

“Okay?” you asked him, voice a mere whisper, keeping your words close, concealed from the ears of those around you.

“Better, now that I know you are,” he replied just as quietly. His helmet might not have even picked it up had he been any softer.

You shrugged, your smile taking on a sardonic tinge. “For now anyway.”

“Cyare.” Din tucked his big, broad palm against your jaw, cupping the side of your face gently. For the span of a breath, the two of you just stood there, taking each other in, and you could feel the fear that you had been so desperately trying to pack away from the moment you stepped off of the Lambda shuttle begin to simmer in your gut. Gideon said that Din had struggled to subdue a single Dark Trooper, and now dozens were well on their way to reaching you. This room was full of skilled fighters – the best you had ever seen – but the fact remained that there were only so many of you. How could you stand against them?

“Cyare,” Din repeated, his voice increasing in urgency, and you let your eyes fall closed, wishing for all the galaxy that you collapse into him, that you could feel his warmth and his solidity against you and know that he would make everything right. He could see you starting to fall apart, and you had never wanted to let yourself more than you did in this moment.

For the first time in months, you heard your name spoken in that low, rasping voice, warped and staticky and familiar. The sound pulled your eyes open, and you looked up at him with a watery gaze.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you both out of here,” he said solemnly. Dropping his hand from your face, he reached out and stroked Grogu’s head lovingly, trailing his fingertips along the top of one the boy’s ears, just like he liked. “Take shelter behind these consoles. Keep him close. Don’t come out unless I say so, understood?”

Swallowing audibly, you nodded.

“Go,” he urged, and you obeyed, rounding the edge of the console bank and dropping to the floor. You pressed your back up against its base and drew your knees up to your chest, tucking Grogu snugly between your body and your thighs. Resting one arm along the tops of your knees, you surrounded him with a cage made from your own body. Your other hand drew your blaster and held it at the ready, safety off, barrel pointed up.

In your lap, the little boy cooed with concern, but you simply shushed him gently and dropped a quick kiss onto his brow. “Keep quiet now,” you whispered. Your voice shook. “Don’t be afraid.”

---

Din took a moment to gather himself, a moment to attempt to slow his thundering heart and ease his breathing. In all of the years he had spent training for battle – as a foundling, as an apprentice, with his squad-mates in the Fighting Corps, with his mentor in the depths of space (nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la) – nothing had ever truly prepared him for a situation like this one. Trapped with nowhere to run, against an enemy that both outnumbered and out-gunned him, his friends at his back, the two beings dearest in the world to him huddled behind layers of circuitry and flimsy plastisteel in a futile attempt to protect themselves. It was enough to have him clenching his fists down at his sides, trying not to tremble.

There wasn’t a Mandalorian alive who feared kyr’am. He had stared death in the eye more than once and doing so again did not frighten him. But Grogu, his ad, and you, his riduur… His aliit in everything but name, in all the ways that mattered. He could not bear the thought of your lives ending here, in this cold, unfamiliar place surrounded by enemies and steeped in dread. He could not – would not – allow that to happen.

“Seal the blast doors!” Fennec ordered, and Koska scrambled to comply. She was young, Din knew. Tough, a little vicious, a fine fighter, and someone that Bo-Katan clearly trusted, but how many battles could she have seen, truly?

On the other side of the layers of durasteel now blocking the way onto the bridge, the loud, synchronous echo of heavy metal footsteps approached.

“They’re here,” Koska warned, slipping her helmet back over her head, and around her, everyone began to ready themselves for combat. Adjusting armor, donning helmets, priming weapons, aiming them at the doors. Din couldn’t quite see all of you where you hid, but he could see the blaster pistol in your hand, your finger resting along the side of the trigger. You had covered Grogu’s body almost entirely with your own, the boy only visible by the delicate tip of one of his green ears poking out near your cheek, and the Mandalorian’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest at the sight.

He managed not to startle when steady, rhythmic banging began to echo through the closed blast doors. Even with their impressive heft, they rattled in their frames, the power behind the Dark Trooper’s incessant pounding overwhelming. If left alone for long enough, they would bend and break the doors through sheer, brute strength.

Behind him, still crumpled and bleeding on the deck, Moff Gideon chuckled lowly. “You have an impressive fire team protecting you. But I think we all know after a valiant stand, everyone in this room will be dead but me and the child.”

Haar’chak. The man was right, of course. Should the rest of you perish in the fight against the Dark Troopers, Grogu would likely be spared. Was that better, he wondered? To live a life of imprisonment at the hands of Gideon and his men, always under a microscope, always the subject of some new experiment, forced to give his blood to the moff’s scientists who had no regard for his well-being? He had no wish to find out.

Before him, the blast doors had begun to bulge in the center, stretching and warping and curving inward, the gap between the two halves of the door widening with every impact. The strained metal creaked and groaned, the sound deafeningly loud even through his helmet. The droids were making quick work of them; it wouldn’t be much longer before they would burst through, and then the true fight would begin.

With a deep, steadying breath, Din adjusted his grip on his blaster and squared his shoulders toward the oncoming enemy.

However, just as the ever-widening space at the center of the door grew large enough for a hand to squeeze through, the same shrill, chirping alarm sounded from the security terminal.

All eyes on the bridge swiveled to stare at the console screen, recognizing the proximity sensor immediately. A streak of movement caught his eye then, and he watched as a small, familiar vessel sped past the forward viewport.

“An X-wing?” you murmured, a question in your voice. You couldn’t see well from where you huddled, but you could hear, the roar of the X-wing’s four symmetrical engines audible even through the transparisteel, and a fleeting flash of pride surged through Din at the realization that you had identified it by sound alone.

“One X-wing?” Cara quipped. Sarcasm dripped from her words as she scoffed. “Great. We’re saved.”

Tucking her twin blaster pistols back into her thigh holsters, Bo-Katan crossed to the communications terminal and opened a channel. “Incoming craft, identify yourself,” she demanded.

But the connection remained silent, the mysterious ship ignoring the hail. It proceeded to dock in the launch bay, and for the third time in the last hour, Moff Gideon’s light cruiser was being boarded.

---

You would know the sound of an X-wing anywhere – you had built more of them than you could count, could likely do so with your eyes closed even after all of the months you had spent away from the shipyards. The rumble of their engines was comforting in the way that familiar things were comforting, and in spite of your desire to keep your memories from all of the years you had spent in service on Chardaan locked away, you couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The others might have been dubious, but X-wings – even if there was only one – meant protection. Allies. Safety. For the first time since the Dark Troopers came aboard, you felt the faintest surge of hope.

It seemed that the feeling was contagious. Tucked away in your lap, Grogu began to fuss, and you glanced down to find his ears perked and wriggling, his eyes wide and blinking. Every ounce of lethargy in his little body had been replaced with keen interest, and before long, you couldn’t keep him contained; he squirmed fully out of your arms and dropped to the floor, his tiny legs carrying him urgently to the closest console with a security camera viewscreen.

“Grogu – ” you hissed, holstering your blaster, scrambling to your feet. You made it to him just as he was starting to crawl up into the chair, little three-fingered hands skittering across the leather seat. With a sigh, you scooped him into your arms and took a step back toward where you had been hiding, but before you could abscond with him once again, the viewscreen he had been so intent on reaching caught your eye.

There, in black and white, a double line of Dark Troopers stood stock still on the other side of the bridge blast doors. As you watched, the two at the front – who moments ago had been pounding so persistently on the durasteel before them, caving it in bit by bit – paused, dropped their arms, and retrieved their blasters from their mounts on the sides of their legs.

And then, as a single unit, the entire platoon did an about-face and turned to stare down the corridor in the opposite direction of the bridge.

“Why did they stop?” Fennec asked warily, putting voice to the question you were sure all of you were now asking.

Grogu let out a series of babbles and coos, wiggling in your arms, reaching his hand out toward the viewscreen as though trying to touch it, and you looked down at him with a puzzled frown. Clearly there was something he was trying to see. Reluctantly, you sat him down on the surface of the console, and like the rest of the boarding party had done for you, you drew up behind him as close as you could manage, putting your body between him and the now-silent bridge entrance.

With tentative hands, the boy pressed a button on the console, and the view of the security footage shifted on the screen. Rather than watching just outside the bridge, you now were watching a faceless figure in a long, black cloak sweep menacingly down the corridors of the cruiser, tracing the same path you and your team had taken from the launch bay to the bridge. In his right hand, a long sword glowed, this one not entirely unlike the one Din now had tucked into his utility belt. It appeared a bit more even in shape, a bit more solid in color, but that almost supernatural glow of light that surrounded it was unmistakable even through the dodgy security cameras.

Still stationed at her own terminal, Bo-Katan let out an audible breath of surprise. “A Jedi?” she murmured questioningly. You glanced over at the princess to find her transfixed, staring at the same feed as Grogu on her own viewscreen. Had you been able to see her face through her helmet, you were certain that she would look like she had just seen a ghost.

A Jedi, she had said. Like the woman that had sent Din to Tython, like the people that Grogu had been attempting to contact using the seeing stone.

He had succeeded, you realized, emotion welling up in your throat so thick it nearly choked you. Your boy had done it. A Jedi had found him.

All together, the remaining boarding party turned to watch the screens, their weapons lowering as they took in the spectacle playing out before them. This mysterious figure, this Jedi, was a calm, efficient, and deadly swordsman, and with great economy of movement, you watched as they dispatched each and every Dark Trooper they came across with seemingly minimal effort. With a smooth parry of their glowing sword, they blocked every blaster bolt and every swinging blow. What Troopers did not meet their end at the edge of his blade instead were flung across the ship with an invisible Force, crashing into cargo containers, careening off of catwalks, colliding into other Troopers, and falling in a tangle of wires and durasteel.

It was incredible, the way this stranger moved with such steady confidence, such complete and utter control. They were like the quiet stillness at the center of a whirlpool, raining quick and proficient destruction upon the cruiser’s last line of defense – these savage war machines that had been designed for death and yet could not stand before this hooded figure. With a start, you realized that this…this was what Grogu had the potential to become. This was a Jedi at their full power, a master of their abilities. All this time, this was what Din had been striving to give him.

You hadn’t understood. Now, you thought you might be starting to.

It was then that several things happened in quick succession, and you were yanked from your awed reverie so sharply your head spun.

Behind you, Moff Gideon surged to his feet, produced a blaster pistol from the folds of his cape, and – in the same motion – opened fire on Bo-Katan. The princess grunted at the impact, several rounds bouncing harmlessly off of her beskar armor. But then a single shot made contact with the unprotected meat of her thigh, and she crumpled to the deck with a groan.

The rest of the boarding party sprang into action around her, whirling around with brandished weapons, expressions of shock and anger on their lips, but Gideon was faster than all of them. In the span of a heartbeat, he spun, adjusted his aim, and loosed another volley of rounds, this time directly at Grogu.

You had no time to think, no time to second guess, but even if you had, you were certain you would have taken the same action. Truly, it was the easiest decision you had ever made in your life.

You stepped in front of him.

Blaster holstered on your hip, no time to raise it in your own defense, you put your body between the little boy and the moff, shut your eyes, and held your breath.

…

But the searing pain never came. Instead, the loud, echoing sound of several blaster bolts pinging off of beskar filled your ears, and your eyes shot back open to find Din angled in front of you, arms spread wide, shoulders heaving.

All of the breath leaving your lungs at once, you leaned heavily back against the console behind you, hands gripping the edge fiercely to keep you upright. He was unharmed, as were you and Grogu. All three of you were still alive.

Thankfully, by this time, everyone seemed to have caught up from Gideon’s surprise attack. The man had at least four blasters trained on him now, and from the wide-eyed, desperate expression on his face, he knew as well as you did that he would not be able to pull off a maneuver like that again.

“Drop it!” Fennec shouted, gesturing with the barrel of her blaster rifle to the pistol in the moff’s bound hands.

For a moment, he appeared to weigh his options, glancing from Fennec to Cara to Din to the still-bulging blast doors on the other side of the bridge, and then he was angling the pistol’s muzzle upward and pressing it firmly against the underside of his own chin.

You gasped, lunging futilely for him, hand outstretched and eyes wide. “No – !”

The butt of the marshal’s blaster rifle made contact with his pistol before it could fire, sending it flying through the air to slide across the deck plating. Another blow, and the rifle cracked across Moff Gideon’s jaw with a sickening thud. The man buckled to the floor in a graceless heap, instantly unconscious and dripping blood onto his pitch-black uniform.

Everyone seemed to take a collective breath of relief then, and Din turned to face you, immediately cupping your shoulders in his palms with an urgent grip.

“Cyare – ”

“I’m fine,” you were quick to assure him. Your hands landed on this chest of their own accord, running across the surface of his breastplate then his pauldrons with searching fingers. “Are you – ?”

“I’m okay – he just hit the armor. The kid, is he – ?”

You both turned to find Grogu precisely where you had left him, perfectly happy and well, perched on the surface of the security terminal, his face still angled toward the black-and-white camera feed playing out on the viewscreen. The mysterious cloaked figure was still approaching, appearing to be just outside now. They stared down the two long lines of Dark Troopers that clogged the corridor, and without a moment’s hesitation, they drew their glowing, thrumming sword and began to systematically slice their way through the impenetrable wall of durasteel and electrical wiring.

Like all the others, these Dark Troopers didn’t stand a chance. They fell before that sword like wheat to a scythe, and you and Din both watched as Grogu stared on, completely enraptured, the palm of his little hand pressed fervently against the viewscreen as though trying to touch the hooded swordsman through it.

With a heavy, knowing sigh, the bounty hunter glanced down at you, meeting your gaze through his impassive visor. A moment of understanding passed between you, silent yet poignant, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the same thing that he did – that you were all standing on the edge of a precipice and that the moment that you had been dreading was upon you sooner than you had ever considered.

Din’s quest had been to deliver Grogu to a Jedi to be trained in the ways of the Force, and now, a Jedi had delivered themself directly to him.

Turning to face the rest of the party, the Mandalorian commanded, “Open the doors.”

No one moved immediately to comply, all of them too absorbed with the fact that this bizarre figure who was clearly capable of so much destruction with so little effort was now mere feet away, decimating the forces outside the blast doors with deadly precision. It seemed as though everyone had grown a bit wary of this supposed savior, and there didn’t seem to be anyone eager to make it easier for them.

“I said open the doors,” Din repeated.

“Are you crazy?” Fennec snapped, exasperated.

He glanced back at you then, and with a somber nod, you thumbed through a few controls on the nearest terminal. The three-layered durasteel doors shook and shuddered in their frames, heavily damaged from the Dark Trooper’s assault, but after a few groans of protest, they eventually peeled back, trembling to a stop as the bulging metal ran into the edges of the doorframe. From the corridor beyond, a mix of smoke and steam spilled in, filling the air with the acrid scent of ozone. Hot metal and burning electrical wiring, you knew, from the felled Dark Troopers. The hallway was thick with it, so many of them destroyed in such a small space, and it did nothing to ease the anxious pounding of your heart as Din gestured for you to bring Grogu forward.

Scooping the boy into your arms, you followed close behind the bounty hunter and tentatively approached the open doorway. It did not take long for the hooded figure to appear, emerging from the fog clad in billowing black robes like a dark specter. Silent and still, the Jedi retracted their glowing sword, which was apparently bright green, and for the first time, you noticed that they were wearing a single leather glove on their right hand. Their left hand was bare, and it was with both hands that they reached up and pulled back the obscuring fabric of their hood.

A young human man, no more than 30, with dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at you. You were struck at once by his placid expression, by the way he carried himself with an almost profound, steady calmness that exuded both confidence and humility. Now unarmed, hands clasped formally in front of him, he oozed a kind of gentle competence that called to mind the same image from earlier – the serenity at the center of a whirlpool, the peace in the eye of a storm.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, wariness coloring his words even through his vocoder.

The strange man nodded once. “I am.” His gaze flicked over the bounty hunter’s shoulder then, making solemn eye contact directly with you and then with Grogu. Extending his bare hand, he beckoned to the child, palm up. “Come, little one.”

Your grip tightened on the boy unconsciously, and with a quiet, concerned whine, Grogu looked up at you and then Din. His eyes were wide, his wrinkly brow pulled up in the center, his ears turned down.

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” the Mandalorian said, angling his body protectively between the Jedi and you.

“He wants your permission,” the man countered. Din was visibly taken aback by this, as were you, your eyebrows raising to meet your hairline as you stared at the Jedi incredulously. “He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the child, but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”

Silently, your bounty hunter stared at the strange man for a beat, contemplating his words. Tension stretched between them, Din taking the measure of him behind the anonymity of his helmet, and to his credit, the younger man did not flinch or fidget. He simply stood and waited until the Mandalorian gave him a subtle nod.

Closing the distance between the two of you, Din met your gaze wordlessly and opened his arms, reaching for Grogu. Your stomach dropped like a lead weight in your abdomen, your throat swelling with choked-back emotion as you understood what was about to happen. You recalled suddenly the day Din had taken you to Nevarro for the first time, the day he had attempted to turn you in for your bounty and hand you over to Orron. Parting from the little boy in your arms had broken your heart even then, the idea of never seeing him again moving you to tears.

What would it do to your heart to say goodbye to him now, all these months later? What would it do to Din’s?

Still, you knew you could not refuse him. You had no right to override Din’s wishes like that, and you had no right to hold Grogu back from achieving all of the incredible things you knew he was capable of. So rather than hanging on tight, the way you wished so desperately that you could, you instead tucked the boy’s soft little head against your neck for a brief moment, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then passed him into Din’s waiting arms.

Grogu squirmed for the briefest moment, uncertainty shining in his wide, dark eyes, but the bounty hunter was quick to soothe him. Voice low, tender, and husky with emotion, he murmured, “Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with – he’s one of your kind.” Din brought the child up close to his face, holding him so gently mere inches from his helmet. “I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Batwing ears twitching, Grogu extended one little, three-clawed hand, tracing his fingertips and then flattening his palm against the cool, beskar cheek of Din’s helmet. You watched with tear-stung eyes as the two – father and son, in all the ways that mattered – simply gazed at each other for a moment as though memorizing each other’s faces, burning the image of the other into their memory forevermore.

Except…

Except Grogu could not see Din’s face. Not really.

The same thought seemed to occur to him then. That this would be the image of him that this child would carry with him throughout his life – the impassive, anonymous, expressionless face of the helmet he had worn since he was a child himself. And so he did the thing that you never would have expected, the thing for which you never would have asked but had secretly yearned. With slow, trembling movements, the Mandalorian Din Djarin reached up, tucked his thumb under the chin of his helmet, released the pneumatic seal keeping it in place, and lifted the thing up and over his head.

For a wild moment, you consider turning around. Or covering your eyes. Something – anything – to keep from seeing the face of the man who had hunted you, captured you, then saved you; the man who had given you a home and a family for the first time since you were a child; the man who had encouraged you to make choices for yourself, to speak your mind, to exercise your creativity, to flex your expertise; the man you had fallen in love with long before you had ever admitted it to yourself or to him.

He had had so many opportunities to show you his face before now, so many chances to share himself with you in that way, and he had not taken them. This moment was between father and son, a moment of connection and comfort for the boy who would be leaving this ship with a stranger, perhaps never to return. Was it right for you to look, to see him like this?

All of these thoughts rushed through your mind as the helmet receded, as he lifted it and sat it off to the side atop a nearby terminal. And yet, they were not enough. Because Din…

Maker, Din was beautiful. Tanned skin kissed with sweat, dark brown hair cropped close on the sides but longer on the top, a strong brow, a prominent nose, and full, soft-looking lips that turned down ever so slightly in the corners. His big, dark brown eyes were red around the edges and shone with unshed tears, and short, patchy stubble graced his upper lip and cheeks. His black cowl covered his neck all the way up to the underside of his jaw and cupped about a quarter of the way up the back of his skull.

He was everything you had thought he would be, everything you had known he would be from the stolen moment caressing this face in the dark. And he was also so much more.

The tears stinging your eyes spilled over then, streaming softly, silently down your face as Grogu took Din in. So much gentleness and love shone in those dark, mirror-like eyes, it made your heart ache. And then, without a moment’s hesitation, the boy pressed his hand to the bounty hunter’s cheek, right where it had been on the helmet, and Din’s watery eyes fell shut at the sensation.

“All right, pal. It’s time to go,” he rasped, voice thick and soft and so unfamiliar without his vocoder. You could count on one hand the number of times you had heard it, and it never failed to make your heart squeeze in your chest. “Don’t be afraid.” He offered the boy a small, encouraging smile then bent down, setting him on the ground.

Grogu protested for a moment, clearly uncertain, clinging closely to Din’s boot and staring up at him pleadingly, but the Mandalorian did not give in. He simply gave him an encouraging gesture and a gentle little push with is foot, urging him in the direction of the Jedi still waiting patiently in the doorway.

Just as you began to question whether the child would ever willingly approach the other man, a gentle whirring sound reached your ears, and a blue and white R2 series astromech droid came rolling onto the bridge, stopping beside the cloaked man with a jaunty whistle. The sound immediately got Grogu’s attention; he released Din’s leg and turned to face it, taking a few hesitant steps in its direction with bright, fascinated eyes. The boy looked small even next to the squat little droid, the former only about a third of the latter’s height, and you watched as the astromech leaned down almost as if to meet his gaze. The two watched each other for a moment, Grogu cooing softly while the R2 unit beeped and babbled at him. Before long, the droid let out another joyful whistle and began rocking back and forth on its leg stabilizers with enthusiasm.

Without being able to understand binary, it seemed to you that the two had come to some sort of understanding. The astromech even seemed…happy to see him?

This was enough for Din, it seemed. Glancing up to the Jedi in the doorway, he gave the other man a small nod of approval, which the Jedi returned. The cloaked man looked down at the child, and then the boy was extending both of his arms up into the air, the universal gesture of all little children asking to be held.

So that was it then, you realized. Grogu was agreeing to go. Grogu was asking to go.

Bending at the waist, the Jedi stooped down to Grogu’s level, tucked his hands under the boy’s arms, and lifted him effortlessly into the air, cradling him against his body.

“May the Force be with you,” he said solemnly, and before you could respond, before you could stop to think about how wrong it looked for Grogu to be in this strange man’s arms, before you could reach for him, pull him back where he belonged – with Din, with you – the Jedi turned on his heel and retreated back toward the lift at the end of the corridor, the little astromech trailing along behind him.

Grogu peered up over his new guardian’s shoulder the entire way, his dark eyes fixed on Din. You drew your lips between your teeth and bit down hard to stifle your sobs as you took in the Mandalorian’s expression – dark eyes wet and shining but cheeks dry, the tip of his nose red, the little encouraging smile that flashed across his mouth for the briefest of moments before disappearing, unable to sustain itself in the face of his grief. His fingers twitched ineffectually down at his sides, as though fighting the urge to reach out his hands to the boy, and the muscles in his jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth.

He would not let his son see him cry.

He was so strong, your sweet bounty hunter.

When the Jedi reached the lift, he turned back around to face the bridge, rotating Grogu in his grip so he could do the same. A subtle nod and a barely-there smile of reassurance from Din, and then the lift door slid closed with painful finality, and they were gone.

---

You weren’t certain how long you and the other members of the boarding party stood there after that, silent and more than a little off-kilter from the emotional and physical whiplash of the last 15 minutes. The sickening, all-consuming threat of the Dark Trooper platoon. The threat on Bo-Katan’s life and her subsequent injury. The threat on Grogu’s life and the near-death experiences of both you and Din attempting to keep him safe. The arrival of a Jedi. The departure of the child that each and every one of you had fought and killed to save, to bring home to the man who loved him like a son.

With the boy gone, the mission was over. Not a failure, but it also didn’t feel quite like a success because you knew he would not be leaving with you when you departed the light cruiser. And Moff Gideon had been captured and subdued, which was certainly a victory, but Bo-Katan still did not have possession of the Darksaber and thus was no closer to her goal of ascending the Mandalorian throne.

So many weeks of preparation, so many favors called in, so much blood spilled, and you could not help but feel as though you were not much better off than you had been after departing Tython. You needed to remind yourself that at the very least, Grogu was no longer in the hands of an enemy but rather under the care of a powerful man who was the closest you had ever seen to a sorcerer outside of a holovid. If nothing else, you were confident that someone with those sorts of abilities at his disposal would be able to protect the boy from any who would do him harm, and that was substantially better than remaining in the custody of the Empire.

And, of course, there was the matter of Din’s helmet, left abandoned on the surface of a terminal a few feet away as the man continued to stare wordlessly down the corridor.

Approaching carefully, cautiously, you picked up the helmet and came to stand in front of him, looking at him head-on for the first time.

If it was possible, your bounty hunter was even more beautiful up close. From this distance, you could see the faintest strands of silver in his hair and in his stubble, and his impossibly dark eyes shone with a depth of emotion that had more of your own tears spilling down your cheeks. He was achingly handsome, but in your core, you knew that you were never meant to see him like this. This face was never meant for you.

“Din,” you murmured wetly, voice breaking as you brought his helmet up to hover over his head. “C’mon, let’s get this back on you, yeah?”

But before you could pull it down over his forehead, the Mandalorian met your gaze and placed his gloved hands gently, tenderly over yours, stopping you in mid-air. Wordlessly, his plush lower lip trembling, he shook his head and guided you to bring the helmet back down. Taking it from your grasp, he instead chose to tuck it under his arm.

“Din?” you echoed, uncertain.

Subtly, the bounty hunter shook his head and, with his free hand, cupped your jaw and drew you to him. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gesture painfully tender, and let out a soft sigh against your skin.

“It’s all right, cyare,” he breathed into your hairline, voice gravelly and coarse with grief. “Everything is as it should be.”

You felt warm wetness bloom on your skin as he gathered you close, and after a time, you could no longer tell which tears on your cheeks were yours and which were his.

---

Notes: Thank you all so much for your patience on the long wait between updates. Life got busy, and I overcommitted on Tumblr prompts, and here we are.

As I'm sure you can tell, we are coming to a close on this story in the next couple chapters. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming on this journey with me. I adore you all. <3

Mando'a Translations:

nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la - "Not gone, merely marching far away." A Mandalorian saying of remembrance roughly equivalent to "rest in peace." kyr’am - death ad - child, gender neutral riduur - spouse, gender neutral aliit - family or clan haar'chak - damn it

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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