#din djarin x black female oc

[soft-persephone]

Scattered Promises 4

Rating:M // MDNI // WC: 4-1k // Warnings: mature themes , sex // masterlist // AN: Here’s Chapter 4!! I almost forgot to post this! I hope you guys enjoy it! This chapter was a such a doozy to write and I’m finally done with it!! Now we can get to the meatier parts of the story!! // Three //

Ready Jazzy?”

Amiyra picked up Sammy and grabbed his little stuffed fish she made for him within the first year they were in each other’s lives. He was obsessed with the stuffed octopus you made him for his second birthday, but someone in the children's care thing was constantly taking his octopus and roughing it up or refusing to give it back.

The situation was disparaging if anyone asked you, but to the Madalorians, children are encouraged to settle their own affairs. According to them, Sammy would have to learn to be more aggressive and start standing up for himself regardless of only being 2 and a half years in age.

“I got everything!” Jazzy smiled, proudly showing off her new dagger.

“Alright, lets go.”

Amiyra grabbed her two large wicker baskets, and maneuvered the straps the best way she could without dropping Sammy.

Helping the morning harvesters was her own way of being involved in the community. If there was anything she learned in her upbringing on her homeworld, it was the importance of community. Learning the language and becoming a better fighter was not enough in itself. By doing her part without being asked and positioning herself as a worker, she would gain their respect.

Descending the steps, she swore as one broke on her way down.

Their new place was not as big as the one they stayed in with Paz and Penny, but with a few rough repairs, and perhaps an entire renovation for the front porch, they'd be set. The wood was aged, but it was still sturdy. Only a few places here and there needed some replacing.

Jazzy scoffed loudly.

Amiyra was about to ask why she was so upset, but upon looking up, she smiled.

The well worn armor of Ben was there.

He might beat her half to death every morning, but she grew a fondness for him. He was easy to talk to, genuine, and reliable. No matter how much time they spent together it didn’t seem like enough.

“Let me carry the baskets.” he mumbled softly.

“There's no need to lower your voice.” She smiled into his helmet, “he can sleep through anything.”

“I'd rather not risk it. He can be quite demanding with his desires for attention.” He picked up a stray loc of her hair and placed it behind her shoulder, “I have something else I'd like to focus on before the sun comes up.”

She didn’t say anything in response, nor did she have to. Before his hand left her face entirely she leaned into his leather covered hand, savoring the warmth that lay beneath them.

“Ahem.” Jazzy frowned. “I have somewhere to be today, and I don’t want to be late.

Amiyra gave Ben an apologetic smile and they made their way to the edge of the village where the training woods were.

“Today is a big day for you Jasmine.” Din got down on one knee in front of her, clasping her shoulders. “There's no doubt in my mind you will be the fiercest warrior during your trial and come back home in no time, but don't underestimate anyone and always watch your back.”

He handed her a shoulder length blade. Not yet a sword and not yet a dagger.

Jasmine’s eyes lit up and she gave him a genuine smile for the first time.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me adika until it saves your life and brings you back home.”

They walked in peaceful bliss.

Her daughter had an even newer, longer, and more dangerous pointy weapon to hold up her spirits. That, Amiyra would bring herself to come to terms with one day. She was still grappling with the Mandalorian customs of what is an appropriate age to introduce your children to violence.

In the clearing of the village, several other parents were lingering around with their children, saying their final goodbyes.

She sighed.

“Stay strong Jazzy.” She kneeled and placed her forehead on top of hers, “come back home.”

“Come back home, first.” Ben said firmly and nodded down at her.

And with no attitude, no sigh, or smart remark, Jazzy nodded at him back up at him with an equal amount of seriousness.

He put a hand on her shoulder. No pat, no fuss.

If she wasn’t so freaked out by this tradition of sending your child off into some unknown dangerous free for all battle with other children. She might have lingered on how big of a moment this was for them.

Breaking the tender touch Jazzy proudly marched off to the edge of the woods with the other children she’d be facing her trial with. Jasmine was not the biggest or strongest kid of her class, but from what she’s observed she’s surely the fiercest.

Maker, let her come home first.

“She’ll come home first.” Din murmured in her ear, placing his hand on the small of her back. “With you as a mother, I'm sure she gets her fierceness and determination from you.”

“Maker, let's hope so.”

Din nudged her with a hip and took Sammy out of her arms.

“You go ahead with the harvesters. I’ll drop him off at school.”

“See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” she said back softly. Tenderly watching them until they were no more than a speck of dust.

Walking her way with the rest of the basket carriers, she was welcomed with a lot of suggestive stares peaking above their face coverings. They’re eyes all shined with a knowing looks of amusement.

“What's with all the looks?”

“Since when did you and Ben become so close?” Someone asked.

Amiyra sighed, holding back a smile.

Today was going to be a long day.

_______

“What are you doing?” Paz asked Din out of nowhere, considerably more calm than he once was now that his family is back together. The question could be taken as an inconspicuous notion, an everyday occurrence from an acquaintance.

Except nothing about Dins life was inconspicuous or an everyday occurrence.

One could dream, right?

He picked up Grogu and made his way through high, grand corridors. The steely grey blue tinted walls glowed in the sunlight. The flickering reflections from the sun suspended them in an artificial space similar to the one above.

“What I want,” he half joked.

Paz’s bushy brows knitted together over glaring eyes. The dark blue cloth that covered his nose and mouth tightened around his face.

He mainly wore his armor when he was going off world or when he was need in battle, any other time it would only be a power status thing, and he wasn’t interested in anything like that. When he wasn’t needed in battle he’d gladly wear his blues in cloth for a while with a face covering to spend time with his wife and children.

Din looked away and kept his brisk pace.

A joke, but it was not. No one was laughing.

“You're not going to do anything to hurt this girl or her children! I forbid it!” Paz hissed so his voice wouldn’t carry against the walls.

So much for being calmer than usual.

“I’m not hurting anyone.” Din pursed his lips under his helmet. He wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing. . .well. . .that's a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was keeping his private affairs and his kingly affairs separate. To protect him and Grogu as well as Amiyra and her family.

“I am not harming her or her children!” Din spun around and muttered into Paz’s face. “She. . .she comes from royalty,” he took a moment to lower his voioce. Sound carries adn who knows who might be listening in these halls, “and you know what they would make her do once they found out. What I would be forced to do if they found out about the both of us and what we might mean to each other.”

Paz huffed and stepped back.

Din turned away from Paz’s silence.

He would have preferred for him to yell, to start a fight even. Silence meant that he was right, and Din did not want to be right.

“Your, highness.” Bo Katan bowed her head slightly.

Din halfheartedly nodded back before setting Grogu down to go into the room before he did to get settled.

“Your majesty,” she addressed Grogu as he tottled inside.

He babbled in response.

“Fett is here as well as a few other important figures to discuss Axe Woves.”

Din grimaced.

Today was going to be a long day.

______

Today was such a beautiful day.

There was something about this system's sun shining down on you and your feet in ankle high water, collecting the versatile green plant and the stalk it grew on. The greens could either be sweet or bitter, but both were suitable to be added to any dish, stew, or stir fry. The stalk could be patted dry and laid out on a flat surface to be made into baskets or anything else of use that could be made. It was like straw but sturdier, more reliable, and durable.

Despite everything else going on that was making her anxious, the sun was high and the sky was clear. While Ben complained that helping with the harvest was a mindless or tedious task that made him feel useless. That his talents were being wanted away with the hours someone could spend out there.

But it wasn’t that at all.

The harvest was one of the most essential parts of a functioning society. It was being a part of something larger than yourself. In some nations it was about a way of life. The land called out to some people. They wanted nothing more than to grow something, provide something not only to themselves, but also for so many others who may need it. They wanted a simple life dictated by the weather and season on what to grow and when, with no input or demands from anyone or anything else.

They wanted honest work and to be paid for that work.

But aside from all the other grand and larger than life reasonings, it reminded her of home.

Her father only allowed her to work on a farm every now and then because it made the family look more relatable. He claimed it made the people more happy to have them as their rulers. But every now and then the ‘power’ over her life and what she represented became overwhelming, and when she wanted a break, she wanted to work on a farm and pretend to have a more simpler life. . .a life where she could control what happened.

“Adika!”

You were sure it meant child. You’ve heard Ben say call your children that word in rare tender moments.

At first it ruffled your feathers, but you soon learned it was a term of endearment similar to many cultures. It was the same word everyone older, particular women were fond of. It was a word used to refer to newcomers by a collective group or culture to highlight your inexperience amongst them. . . but in a kind way.

You called out a single yell asa response. It was short, clipped, and polite. It was your regular response when mending the harvest.

“Things aren’t moving to fast between you and Ben are they?” Mimi raised an eyebrow over her face covering. Her eyes were inquisitive, but cloudy with what you could only identify as concern.

It didn’t matter what covered your face, alone for your eyes as long as it was covered. Most chose a bandana or strip of cloth that wasn’t too thick or thin.

There was something sacred about eyes and eye contact.

Before she was used to living a life where people were taught to avoid looking her in the eye. They often bowed, and stayed looking at the ground or just past the side or above her head. It was a sign of respect.

But now Amiyra new it was a window into one’s soul. Where the rest of one’s face may be covered, your spirit and the true essence of who you were was laid bare for everyone to see in your eyes..

At first it scared her. She grew up only having gazed into the eyes of her parents and siblings. Her friends and occasional lover of sorts for lack of a better word. Her young flings who held her heart.

But now she is full.

She’s met and is still meeting and getting to know so many wonderful people and she feels connected to them.. she belongs.

She a a part of something. . . In every way of the word.

She isn’t an out of touch monarch juggling her fleeting bits of humanity, but a member of a society.

“No,” Amiyra made sure her eyes glowed with how happy she truly was at the thought of Ben, “he … he almsot fits in with me and my children.” She issued, searching for the right words. “He adores them, and they like having him around.”

“Well if he ever becomes a bother, you know where to find us.” Mimi finally added. Her eyes shifted back to a more regular expression.

A skill she has noticed many times, but has yet learned to master.

She was told many tales of how everyone used to wear the same armor as the King and a select few, but since that is not a requirement anymore of all the citizens of Manda’lor. They have learned new skills of concealment.

While all but your eyes may be covered. Some chose to wrap their heads as well and others maybe even wrapped their hair too, they learned how to let their eyes reveal certain things or not. With a blink, Amiyra court see worry, concern, or joy in someone’s eyes morph into nothing. A contempt void of neutrality she found sometimes bone chilling if not mesmerizing.

She needed to learn that.

“You must be careful with Ben.”

Amiyra’s eyes widened as she looked back at Mimi. A long stretch of silence had feel between them as they focused on harvesting, enjoying the sounds of nature and the splashes of water.

“His intentions are always good of heart. . . But he forgets himself.” she paused in thought. . . He may not always be here when you need him.”

Amiyra new exactly what she was talking about.

Ben was just as fleeting as Din.

Din worked for the King, but Ben… well she wasn’t sure what his deal was.

At first she thought he was an important figure of the village. That he somehow represents them, he goes off, does dangerous and sometimes great things,and he comes back to give everything he has gained back into the village.

She’d seen it too many times to count. They’d done the dance of last good byes and when will I see you again more times than she could count. Each and every one leaving her heart aching..

Ben always came back, Din eventually turned up with more sweet words and re-assurances once they could finally get a moment alone with one another, but when would it stop.

Who was she goin to get to spend the rest of her days with? Which one did her children love more? Who filled that void she so desperately needed?

What was a relaible warmth she oculd fill her home with and what were the cold things left blowing in the wind never to return.

“I.. I don’t know if I can rely on Ben,” Amiyra found herself saying, “But I like it when he’s here. Right now. . thats enough.”

Mimi studies her for a moment before nodding at her. Her eyes shone again with its usual unwavering glow that revealed nothing but what she wanted others to see. A more casual everyday look for friends or aquaintences.

“You have your wits about you.”

That was probably the nicest thing Mimi’s ever said to her. . .

She was making friends!

______

Being home alone was the worst.

She couldn’t remember what it was called.

The layer of skin that was so thin, it was hard to see. It rested between the outermost top layer and the one that held all the fleshy bloody parts of you from spilling out that was on the bottom.

It felt like small little bugs were crawling all over it. It felt like someone had somehow set it on fire. She wanted to rip her top layer of skin off and let the air cool it down. She wanted to scream, to hit something or someone.

Amiyra hadn’t been alone since she had her children, and she feared she might not be able to make it without them, not even for a few days.

Since Jazzy was gone with her child free for all battle for the next week or two, she let Sammy stay with Paz and Penny so he'd have someone to play with, He’s not used to it only beng just them, and the new environment might distract him for the fact his sister isn’t going to be home.

He’d also taken a liking to Paz’s oldest boy.

Thankfully, they got along very well and Ragnar, seemed more than glad to have a little brother to follow his every move and try to do everything he did.. Even if Sammy was too small to understand what exactly was going on or what Ragnar might be doing, they had fun all the same.

They offered for her to stay too, but Amiyra politely declined.

She tried sleeping a little, but only tossed and turned. She couldn't find anything to settle the uproar in her stomach. A nibble of anything just made it worse. Tea of any kind was too much, so she hoped drinking sips of water when she could manage would ease something within her.

The middle of the night had reached its peak, and the sky was moonless. It was time for Amiyra to make her way into the thick corner of the woods where she met Ben every other week’s time. The usual bugs that chirped and buzzed underneath the stars were silent. The wind itself was still. It was as if the Maker himself was wielding his mighty power for their night alone to be truly that in every way. That their union was so special it was rewarded a secret privacy held to none other.

Slipping past the guards at the village’s entrance was tricky, but not undoable.

Mandalorains are very keen and attentive. They are culturally alert and poised for anything to happen at any moment. A stark contrast to her leisurely upbringing.

Amiyra learned how to survive well on her own, but as wary and careful as she was about her surroundings and the places she went, it had nothing on what Mandalorians were capable of.

She’s always being berated for her lax state of awareness by her teachers, peers, and elders.

Luckily for her, the more time she spent sneaking off with Ben, the more she learned “to be aware”...

“Whos there?”

Shit.

She stepped on a twig.

Amiyra remained still. She was hidden in a cluster of large bushes. She quickly ran through a list of scenarios in her mind. If she lays till enough perhaps they'd think she was a small animal, or maybe–

A rustling sound came from the opposite end of the clearing a stretch from where she was and they quickly followed the sound in that direction.

“You’re too loud.” a voice sounds lowly in her ear.

“I had it handled.” Amiyra huffed in a whisper.

“No,” Ben wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest in a firm but gentle embrace, “You didn't.”

‘You’re distracted.’ he murmured further. “It takes time for one’s silent awareness to become an afterthought. It takes time for it to be as natural as breathing or walking.”

“I've mostly fought and done dangerous activities on desert planets. It only takes the slide of feet, quiet breathing, following the opposite side of the wind, and avoiding the sun.

Ben slowly let her go and they walked side by side. Their arms brushing one another. They were walking so closely together that taking a step without almost tripping over each other’s feet was hard to avoid, but they somehow managed.

Their unclasped hands brushed together without a thought. Their pinkies twirling around one another in a familiar dance.

The feeling made her at ease.

When else could they be this close? They couldn’t see one another, but the trade off was more than pleasant.

It was alluring, exciting, tempting, and addictive.

Where else could he lay her down in the grass and climb on top of her without worry? Where else could they breathe in one another’s air?

When else could she run her hands through his hair as she pleased? Taking her time, running her hands forwards,and backwards, in slow circles and patterns as he lay his head on her chest? Until she found the right stroke or touch that left him humming her favorite song for only her ears to hear.

Where else could he lick into her mouth and devour her until her lungs screamed and bribed with a need for air so great? That even once he broke that first painful kiss he stole several more in between each gasp of breath. Leaving her more and more desperate with each one. Which one did she need more? Him or air?

She would never tire of the full weight of his body on hers. The warmth he exuded. The feeling of his heart beat in hers. She clawed his shirt off his back, and he equally swept off the tank she had on. Despite the warm heat of the night and it’s lifeless breeze, they wanted more.

Needed it.

They needed to feel each others skin. Ben needed to kiss every nook and curve, each bump and scar of hers in the dark. When he found the one along her collar he bit down on it after licking it, and she cried out into the night air.

It was his favorite.

“Why do you love that one so much?” She panted.

“If what made that mark had took you, we wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be able to do this” he kissed down Amirya’s body and forced her legs over his shoulders with such great force and quickness she couldn’t comprehend, “or this.” He licked into her, spreading her open with his tounge.

Lapping into her as if the wet essence of Amiyra was the only thing he needed as if she were the last drink he needed else he died…. As if it could fix him.

He meant every word.

She could tell he meant every word. With any normal man she would have found the time to tease him for it. She would have written it off as something sweet to say in a tender moment, but not Ben.. he was serious. More serious than most.

Ben was as serious as another Mandalorian man you had met and it haunted her.

She still dreamed of Din.

She still thought of the moment they shared, the promises he made to her. The phantom feeling of his hands on her body were growing weaker and weaker. It was a ghost of a memory she wouldn’t let stop haunting her.

Even now as Ben fulfilled every need she had, she couldn’t shake the thought of him.

Even as he licked her clit just the right way and pumped his strong thick fingers into her with abandon. Stroking and curling at just the right angle, filling her whole and completely.

She though of the promises Din had made. How he was filled with such conviction when he said them.

What was he waiting for?

Did he still mean it? Were they strong and solid? Did he hold them tightly to his chest as he attended to whatever business he did as king? Was he simply just tooo busy?

Or was she a long and forgotten memory? Not a ghost or thought, but scattered in the wind.

A dust he let sprinkle through the air once he made it back into his world.

As she came on Bens toug with a cry, she made a silent plea for Din.

She prayed to the maker he’d keep their promises strong enough for Din to taste them. That he wouldn’t let them settle into a dust of regret.

She prayed he’d keep his promise.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

I Need a Mechanic

A/N: Let me know if you’re interested in a smutty part 2! 

Pairing: Pre-Grogu Din Djarin x Female OC Grace Rayrunner 

Warnings: 18+ only for language, canon typical violence, broken bones, and jealous exes with an affinity for knives. This is young Din before Grogu back when he ran with a different crew. 

Word Count: 3,179 

“Do you work here?” she turns from the engine she’s welding to look at the voice behind her. Her hands flex from the pressure and the heat, and she pulls up the mask over her face giving him a glare; black tresses from her ponytail fall into her eyes, and she pushes them back. 

“You can’t park the hunk of junk here,” he looks behind him at the Razor Crest and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“That’s not a hunk of junk; that’s my ship.” 

She rolls her eyes, “well, this is my place, and I’m kriffing telling you, you can’t park it here.” She rises from her knees and is shocked at how broad the man before her is as he towers over her, leaving her half in shadow. 

“What are you wearing?” he scoffs, looking down at her outfit. A dark green button-up, unbuttoned halfway down to show off a white lace bralette, and black shorts with lots of pockets for all sorts of tools. “Nevermind,” he sighs, “do you work here?” 

“Yes, I do, and if you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the desert, and it’s hot as hell here, so hence the clothes.” 

“Yeah, I hadn’t noticed,” he replies slowly, his helmet moving down over her body. 

“Little slow there, aren’t ya?” she sasses back, pushing around him to get back to the office and, tosses the helmet and welding gun down. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to get your...shit, I can’t think of a better word besides junk. Out of my shipyard, I’d be happy as can be.” 

He follows her close and blocks the doorway when she goes to exit, “are you a mechanic?” 

“Kriff,” she puts a hand to her head and sighs, “yes.” 

“Then I’ll pay you to fix up my ship,” he pauses when she barks out a laugh, bowling over with force and trying to catch her breath. 

“Ah, ha, ha, that is hilarious! You don’t have that kind of credit, honey; you are better off buying a new ship. It’s a HUNK. OF. JUNK.” She says each word slowly, so he understands the full effect of her words. But instead of leaving with a huff, he stands there, helmet pointed down, she can feel the heat of his eyes on her, and she flinches, taking a step back. 

“How much?” his voice is low, dangerous. 

She crosses her arms and glares at him, calculating some numbers in her head. “Okay, I’ll do a basic tune-up, make sure it’s running fine. It’ll be five hundred credits.” 

“What’s your name?” he takes a step closer, and she subconsciously takes a step back. 

“Grace Rayrunner. Now, that’s five hundred credits, half now and a half when it’s done. I won’t do it otherwise.” He pulls out a bundle of credits hanging from his dingy armor, littered with scratches and dents, and drops it into her outstretched palm. 

“Done, and absolutely no droids,” he nods, “I got a job to do on planet, so I’ll be back for my ship tomorrow night.” He turns towards the exit out into Mos Eisley, and she yells back for him. 

“Hey! Mando! What?! No droids, but how…This hunk of…” she stops when he reaches a hand towards his blaster, “ship won’t be done for a couple of days. Even longer without using the droids!” 

“Tomorrow night,” he replies like granite, hard and unwavering, before walking out the door and into the night. 

It takes her all night and most of the day to get the piece of shit even to turn over, and she curses that she should have charged him way more money, especially with a condensed timeline and lack of resources.

Grace curses as the panel spark, and she shimmies back underneath. “Dank Farrick,” she mumbles, putting down her helmet again to try another connection, “stupid, Mandalorian.” 

She screams when the board she’s lying on is pulled out and comes face to face with said Mandalorian. “Kriff,” she mumbles, pulling up the mask, “I’m not done yet.” 

“Now, who's the slow one,” he bends down, and she sits up, eyes level with one another. “I need to get out of here; when will you be done?” 

“Why? Got a hot date?” she snorts before lying back and pushing back under the panel. 

“I have a prior engagement,” she can almost feel the snark in his reply, making her stomach churn. “Don’t want to be late.” She ignores him, continuing to rewire the panel. “I got lots of credits on this last job; I was wondering if you might toss in a little something extra.” 

“What’d you have in mind?” His gloved palm stroking up and down the length of her thigh is a rude awakening, and she kicks at him, rolling out from beneath the ship. “Get the hell out of here!”

He chuckles, quickly taking a step back, “come on, honey, you’re not finding any action on this planet, and you could use the credits.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, smug as can be. 

“I would rather eat bantha dung than ever consider sleeping with you. Since you’ve come here, you’ve done nothing but piss me off; you’re arrogant and selfish. If your hunk of junk ship wasn’t enough to see how well you take care of your things, that dingy armor would! I am not a whore; this is my shop; you can keep the rest of your credits and clear out! I kriffing hope you fall out of the sky!” 

“Is it done then?” he asks, ignoring everything else she’d said and walking towards the ramp to the Crest. 

She throws up her arms, exasperated, “I guess! And if I ever see you again, Mandalorian, it will be too soon.” He ignores her, walking up the ramp and closing the hatch behind him, a clink of coins hitting the sand as the ship powers up. With a scream, she grabs the bag of credits and hurls it toward the ship, watching as they explode against the side before splattering across the sand, “Kriffing Mandalorian!” 

The ship takes off through the atmosphere and she stews for a moment before collecting the credits, counting them as she goes. It doesn’t escape her notice that there are significantly more credits than should be, but she writes it off as him being unable to do simple calculations, what with being a nerf herder, hoping she never sees him and his stupid broad shoulders again. 

But unfortunately, life is never fair, and the Mandalorian does return not once or twice but almost monthly. No matter the number of screwdrivers she’s tossed at his helmet, he keeps coming back. The Razor Crest always comes in hot, nearly crashing into the shop and crushing whatever she’s working on most of the time. Her protests fall on deaf ears as he just tosses a bag of credits, far more than she needs, and leaves to the Cantina for work. 

But something had begun to shift in the last few months; he still came in hot and tosses her the credits, but he always came back early, and during those times between scathing comments, insults, and general displeasure (usually from her), he was almost…pleasant. 

And she couldn’t deny that he was attractive, those broad shoulders, and the deep husk of his voice through the moderator. He’d been the star of more than one of her nighttime fantasies. His armor pinning her down to the bed, hands tied up in those binders he has snapped to his belt, and then he would go to remove his mask, and she’d wake up, panting and alone, hand buried deep in her pussy, aching for him to come and take away the ache. 

“What are you thinking about?” he comes out of the shadows, watching as she furiously blinks away the images. 

“Nothing,” she snaps, tightening the bolt on the panel. “You know, I’m starting to think you should just invest in a new ship.” 

“Why is that?” he sighs, putting his hands on his hips and looming over her. 

“Because by the time you’ve got her into some semblance of working order, the number of credits you’ve paid me could buy you a new ship.” She stands, brushing off her hands on her shorts, wincing at the small cut on the nip of her finger, “kriff.” 

He stands there silent, a wall of armor and leather, before taking her wrist in his hand; she goes to protest before he’s slipped her finger beneath the mask. She can’t breathe, his warm wet mouth wrapped around her finger, his tongue flicking back and forth over the small cut. She can feel her panties dripping, and despite not seeing his eyes, she knows they are fixed on her. The T-shape visor stares down at her as he takes a step closer, “how does that feel?” he whispers, voice hoarse. 

Grace is speechless for the first time in her life, and when he slowly releases her hand, the whimper that slips out is far from silent. “I have to go,” he closes the last inch of distance, cupping her cheek with his glove, the leather coarse and rough from years of use. “I won’t be back for several months; I got a big job coming up.” 

“Why are you telling me?” she whispers, biting her tongue so hard to suppress the moan when he runs his hand from her cheek, down her side, just grazing the side of her breast, before wrapping an arm tight around her waist, pinning her body to his own. 

Neither of them mentions how she doesn’t push his away, how she leans closer, the helmet pressing to her forehead. “Because, little mechanic, when I return, I’m going to repeat my original offer, only this time it won’t be for credits. It’ll be because you want me to fuck you, want me to bring you so much pleasure you won’t be able to remember your own name when I’m done with you.” 

She pulls her head back, a playful scowl across her lips, “Is that a threat, Mandalorian?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, sliding his hands lower to take two handfuls of her ass and squeeze tightly, leaving her gasping. He leans close to her ear and whispers, “It’s a promise.” His hands retreat before returning to give a sharp slap to her ass, and she moans, falling forward to dig her fingers into the thick cowl at his neck, nearly falling over when he steps backward and turns to the ship, pulling the ramp up behind him. The heat from the engine is nothing compared to the one swirling in her body, threatening to erupt like a volcano from a mere brush of his hands on her body. How the hell would she last if there was nothing between them? In a few months, she promised she would find out. 

Over the next three months, Grace tried to convince herself that every sound of an engine landing in the bay wasn’t him. But her body didn’t seem to get the memo, her heart pounding, lungs constricting with the anticipation that he’d returned. It was a foreign feeling, to be sure, but not unwanted as she lay in bed and recalled the past year of interactions with the Mandalorian. Yes, he was cocky, and at times his silence was infuriating, but there was something about him that made her feel safe around him; comfortable. 

The sound of an engine rumbling into the bay sent her heart into a tizzy as she stood from the droid she’d been working on, wiping the oil off her hands. “Can I help you?” Grace asks, coming from the office and taking in the sleek one-person cruiser, a purple-skinned Twi'lek coming down the ramp, spinning something silver and sharp around her index finger. 

“I don’t know,” she giggles, almost unhinged, and a chill creeps down Grace’s spine. “That depends,” she takes a step closer, invading her space; the knife comes down swift and splits her cheek before pressing sharply against her neck. “Does a Mandalorian ever come through here?” 

Her voice shakes, “no, I don’t know any Mandalorians; I thought the Empire killed them all?” 

The Twi’lek laughs, pressing the knife harder into her neck, “you’re not a very good liar, darling.” 

“I’m not-” Grace is cut off as the Twi’lek bares her fangs, hissing in her face. 

“You’re all he talks about, you know? His little mechanic…it makes me SICK!” She steps back, swinging the knife around, Grace barely moving out of the way before it slices her stomach. “He won’t let me even touch him anymore,” she rambles, her voice growing more distressed with each passing second. “He’s MINE!” 

Grace quickly glances around for something to use as a weapon, picking up an old plasma shield to use as a barrier between her and the angry Twi’lek. “If I can’t have him, nobody can!” One by one, she flicks the sharp blades at her, trying to block every attack; Grace almost falters when the Twi’lek screams in frustration. She doesn’t notice how the next knife blinks before the force of the blast envelopes the space in a blur of flame and she’s thrown back into the wall, hitting her head before the world goes black. 

When she finally comes to the Twi’lek is gone, part of the wall suspended over her, hiding her from view. She lets out a shuddering breath, lucky to be alive. Her head is pounding, and her leg is definitely broken, but she crawls through the smoldering remains of her shop, glass embedding in her palms as she claws her way out. “Grace!” she lifts her head to see Peli Motto, another mechanic bursting through the door, “you dead?!” 

“Not yet,” she groans, rolling over onto her back, “but they gave a good try.” 

“Kriff kid,” she stands over you, “what the hell happened?” She helps Grace, supporting her weight on one side and complaining loudly the whole time. “Jeez, who’d you piss off this time?” 

“It’s a long story,” Grace sighs, hobbling to the workbench and sitting down, “can you get me, Doc? I don’t think I will be able to walk that far.” 

“Yeah,” Peli puts her hands on her hips with a shake of her head, “your leg isn’t supposed to be bent in that direction.” 

“I didn’t notice,” she fails miserably at keeping the sarcasm from her tone, “please, Peli.” With a scoff, she walks off in the direction of the doctor, leaving you in the rubble of your life. 

Several hours later, Grace is tucked up in bed, her leg set and a couple of medications on the counter. Tomorrow she would need to go through the garage and pick out what’s left of her life before moving it over to Peli’s place; the older woman suggested combining the business, and Grace couldn’t think of a valid reason to say no. 

Given the situation, it was a smooth transition, and she fit into Peli’s shipyard as if she’d always been there. Healing was slow, but each day her leg was stronger, the cuts and bruises beginning to fade, although she would always have a long scar down her cheek from the Twi’lek’s blade. It was three weeks to the day since her life had literally collapsed around her when she finally heard his voice again. 

“Where the hell is she?!” he shouts at Peli, his voice frantic, “the entire shipyard is burned to a crisp; it’s like she was never there!” 

“How much does it mean to ya?” she hears Peli snark, always out to make a credit. He huffs before placing a handful of credits in her outstretched hand. “Why do you want her?” 

“She’s…” he hesitates before dropping his head in a sigh, lowering his voice, “she’s important to me. Please,” he all but begs, “just tell me if she’s alive.” 

Grace can’t stand it; the longing she’d felt since he last left her aching on the landing pad flares up, and she takes a hesitant step out of the shadows. His blaster is drawn and pointed at her before she can whisper hello. Both of them are frozen as they take the other in. She can almost feel his eyes trail over her body, taking in the bruises, cuts, and the cane gripped tightly in her left hand. He reholsters the blaster, taking a hesitant step closer, Peli makes herself scarce, counting her credits as she walks back into the shop. 

The Mandalorian closes the distance between them, his steps slow as though he’s scared to startle her, his hand moving to caress her cheek. Grace’s breath catches in her throat at the feeling of his skin warm against her own, his fingers tracing over the scar on her cheek. His voice is quiet, but its venom is crystal clear, “tell me who did this to you.” 

She closes her eyes, trying to collect herself before replaying the horrible affair, “it was some purple-skinned Twi’lek,” his other hand tightens into a fist. “She asked if I knew you, and I told her I didn’t, but she didn’t believe me. She…she told me that you were her’s and if she couldn’t have you, no one could.” 

“Xi’an,” the name comes out with a growl, and he lowers his hand and takes a step back. Grace steps forward, the cane dropping as she all but falls forward, bracing against his chest, his strong arms coming around to hold her up. “What did she do to you?” he whispers, keeping you upright. 

“Blew up the shop,” Grace mumbles, focusing on a scuff on his armor, “the wall came down, crushed my leg, and knocked me out. I think she thought I was dead.” His arms around her waist tighten, and she slowly raises her eyes to look at the T-shape of his visor, “she said you spoke about me.” He stays silent, “Is that true?” 

“Yes.” His hands run up and down her back, “It was reckless of me,” he sighs, “I know how possessive Xi’an can be. But she wouldn’t back down, she kept trying to get me alone, and once I started talking about you…kriff, I couldn’t stop.” 

“Why?” she asks, begging to know if he burns the same for her as she for him. 

“You know why,” he presses the helmet to her forehead. 

“Tell me,” Grace lifts her hands to tighten the cowl at his neck, fingers grasping to the fabric. 

“I’m not good with words,” she feels the disappointment bloom in her chest, but all the air leaves her lungs as he picks her up, “let me show you.” He cradles her like she’s made of glass, passing a smirking Peli, who loudly reminds them to use protection and keep it down. The door to her room opens as she silently directs him where to put her down, his knees hitting the ground hard as he kneels at her feet.

Let me know if you’d like a smutty part 2 :)

[heavenseed76]

Arco Iris

Summary: Everyone in the Andromeda Galaxy viewed the world in shades of grey. Until they met their soulmate. The Mandalorian’s quest completed, he is without purpose. Finding his soulmate might be the push he needs or it might just be another thing to run away from.

Rating: PG13 (for now)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence

A/N: Pinterest Board for this fic

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - The Date

He didn’t intend to run. He really didn’t. His feet were moving and he was outside the city before he could stop himself. It was overwhelming, the colors. Everything was more alive, textures deeper, contrasts sharper, everything more. He stopped when he came to the cart of supplies covered with a tarp bearing the magistrate’s sigil, resting his arm and head on the packed crates, closing his eyes to the chaos to catch his breath. He absently noted the sigil was the same color as the clay pots he’d seen throughout the streets.

“Can we talk?” A hand on his elbow and the voice close to his helm gave him a start. Serafim stood next to him, frowning beneath her gauzy cloak. “Sorry.”

Din was distracted. It was a feeling so foreign that, mixed with the sensation of seeing in full color for the first time in his life, made him feel drugged. A stranger getting so close without notice had him putting a hand on his blaster. Sera’s eyes flicked down to his hand, not missing the gesture.

“Just talk, Mandalorian. That’s all. This is a shock to me too. I’m not armed.” Sera took a step away and held up her hands in surrender.

Din forced himself to let go of the blaster and put his hands at his sides. “I’m sorry. I said I would bring these supplies to the Magistrate’s office.” He said dumbly, his tongue thick in his mouth. “When?”

Sera smiled. “2200? I perform in the square, then we can go somewhere? I have to see to my grandfather, otherwise it would be earlier -”

“2200 is fine.” Din stopped her with a placating gesture. “In the square.”

Sera gave a small bow in farewell. “In the square.”

Din watched her walk away, her graceful form blending in to the tide of people that had begun to swell in the morning surf of Nevarro’s main thoroughfare. She stopped at the gate and glanced back for a moment, flashing a bright grin, before getting completely swept up by the crowd.

%%%

Even with the beskar, he could blend in to the shadows. This, he was good at. He watched her leave Ezekiel’s home - her home, carrying an instrument case and a satchel, and followed her to the square. Others were setting up on the make-shift dais, who Sera greeted with affectionate familiarity, all warm embraces and the occasional kiss. She was dressed differently, wearing a flowing tunic and loose pants, her hair half tied back with a scarf. Din noted the contrast between the fabric and Sera’s skin tone, wishing he knew the name of the color. Several metal barrels were set alight and their flames brought her features into relief as she set about helping the others prepare, blazing smile ever present on her face.

The colors had faded somewhat for both Din and Sera, but even the most muted colors were more than either of them had ever experienced. Din was mesmerized by the play of the firelight against Sera’s dark skin as she moved. Eventually the cantina began to empty and she opened her instrument case along with the other musicians, bringing out a large stringed instrument that she placed between her knees as she sat on a stool. She pulled out a long, thin piece of wood and, pushing the sleeves of her tunic up, she began to play. Din wracked his brain trying to remember the name of the instrument, but simply watching her from where he stood in the shadows, her unabashed joy and the emotion flitting over her features was an all-encompassing distraction. Passersby began leaving credits in Sera’s open instrument case, many stopping to listen and a few even stopping to dance. The music was full of a simple sort of joy, the words of the songs lost to Din, but the melodies echoing sea shanties and folk songs. They were songs carried from port town to port town and base to base by lonely rebels and even lonelier mercenaries. They were love songs and songs of loss, songs about X-wing pilots that never returned to Yavin and losing your ship in a game of sabacc. Somewhere in the performance, the singer introduced the band, giving a flourish toward “the beautiful Sera, on the cello”. Din filed that kernel of information away as Sera stood and gave an outrageous howl, eliciting another round of applause.

Din watched for over an hour, until the crowd grew thin. With some trepidation he pulled off his helmet. In the nearest shop window, he looked at himself. He’d spent most of the day contemplating: helmet on or off. The cognitive dissonance with which he’d been living, having learned that his entire upbringing as a Mandalorian was based on a twisted, bastardized version of the creed, gave him pause. If he left the helmet off, it was one less bridge he would have to cross. Sera would know what she was getting, if this went anywhere. Quickly fixing an errant curl, he stepped out of the shadows and leaned against a wall across the square. When the applause ended and the few audience members started gathering themselves to leave, Din approached the open instrument case. He noted the single credit coins amongst a few five and ten credit coins. Without calling attention to himself, he pulled a few credits out of his pouch and dropped them into the case.

“Mando?” Sera called from the other side of the stage.

“Sorry. I’m early. I thought I would see a bit of your performance.” Din was glad to have at least one hand occupied, holding his helmet under his arm as he stood a good foot below Sera, unsure how to hold himself.

“I wasn’t sure it was you without the whole get-up.” Sera smiled brightly. Din grinned stupidly back. “I’ll get packed up and we can go.” Sera collected the credits in the case and stood, turning away quickly. She faltered for a moment, looking down at the credits for a long moment before putting them in the pouch at her hip.

Din leaned on the edge of the dais as Sera helped the band pack up, taking in the muted colors of the night and the shadows that came with darkness. He caught snatches of conversation, mostly about him, some about the unexpected weight of the purse on her hip.

“Are you sure you’re ok with the Mandalorian, Sera?” a male voice asked. He didn’t try to keep his voice low.

“No, Ash. I’ll be fine. Mando’s just going to walk me home.” Sera laid her cello down in the case beside Din and closed it, smiling sheepishly at him. “Sorry.” She whispered as she kneeled close to secure the clasps.

Din gave her a lopsided smile. “Wouldn’t be much of a friend if he didn’t look out for you.” Without preamble, Din took the instrument case before Sera could take the handle, sliding it off the dais. It was surprisingly light for it’s bulk. Sera waved at her companions who were watching her closely and slipped of the edge of the dais as well. “So where are we going?”

“Walk me home?” Sera asked shyly. “I have something I want to show you.”

Din let Sera lead the way through the hard-packed clay of Nevarro’s streets, lava that had been worn down, turned to dust and reformed into paths by millions of footfalls. He couldn’t help but steal glances at her as they walked, satchel hitting her hip, silver bangles glittering like bells as she moved. Sera would glance back and smile, her odd blue eyes wide and shy.

“Has it faded, for you?” Din asked as they rounded the corner toward the market, on the last stretch to Sera’s home.

“Yes. Everything is muted now. It’s still… more beautiful than I every imagined. But not like earlier. I’ve heard the stories, but, nothing compares to the real thing.” Sera watched her feet as they walked, her voice quiet.

“I’ve only heard about this in passing. We don’t talk about it in my culture.” Din looked up at the moon, tinted orange by the sulfur hanging in the air, ever present in the atmosphere. “I never believed in it.”

Sera rounded on Din, a big smile on her face, making him stop abruptly. “Are you a believer now, Mando?” She asked.

Din took in her tunic and pants, the silver bands around some of her dreadlocks and the color of her eyes. There were glass beads of all colors woven into her hair and sewn into the fabric of her clothing. She was a stunning woman, the center of her bottom lip moist and inviting, her teeth a perfect dichotomy to her skin. “How can I not?”

Sera just stood there for a long moment, taking in the man in front of her. He was broad, his frame mostly covered in armor over a black flight suit, but his build was obvious in the way he held himself. He had a trimmed mustache, roguish smile and a 5 o’clock shadow that suited him. His eyes, though, sad, fathomless eyes the same color as his unruly hair, were what captured her attention. He looked as if he had seen enough battle and loss for a thousand lifetimes and feared seeing enough for a thousand more. His eyes just begged for a rest, a place to lay his head for even a moment of respite. And when the side of his mouth ticked up that tiny bit? She found she wanted to offer him her own lap on which to find that rest.

“This is me.” Sera gestured to the building they were stopped in front of. Indeed they had come to the little two-story building she lived in with her grandfather. Din followed to the doorstep. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Sera nodded toward the table and chairs, now propped against the house. Din nodded back and handed her the cello. Their fingers brushed in the exchange and the world flashed brightly again, colors blazing full force. It knocked both of them back on their heels.

Flustered, they pulled apart, Din grabbing the door frame. Sera steadied herself on a piece of furniture deeper in the room. Breathing heavily, Sera backed away. “OK, you sit. I’ll be back.”

Din sat, trying to clear his head with all the new sensations flooding through it. Sera didn’t take long to return with a bottle and two glasses, as well as what appeared to be an over-sized deck of cards.

“Ever had jet juice?” Sera asked as she set the items on the table. She went about lighting one of the lanterns above the door as Din studied the bottle.

Din huffed in amusement. “You were in the rebellion?” He started working the cork out of the liquor bottle.

Sera sat down, shaking her head with a fond smile and pulling her knee to her chest. “You know your booze! My parents. My dad was an X-wing pilot. My mom was a medic.” She held out a glass as Din offered the bottle to her and poured.

“Was?” He asked as he poured his own glass.

Sera took a sip and winced, sucked the alcohol off her top lip with an audible pop and leaned her head back against the side of the house. She looked relaxed, at ease in her own space. The facade of nonchalance was one she had honed to a fine point and easily wielded. Serafim knew her unique beauty gave her the upper hand and she used it to her advantage, though she had never gone up against a Mandalorian before. She had never gone up against one who she believed was her soulmate no less, and she was unsure of how vulnerable let herself be. Din wore his armor, but carried his helmet in his hands.

The Mandalorian’s face betrayed his stature. The kind eyes and soft curls that hung into his eyelashes were in stark contrast to the hard lines and unforgiving planes of his armor. The soft flight suit and woolen cape that could be seen between each piece - those were the pieces of him that matched the lopsided grin and sidelong glances.

“Yeah…” Sera sighed. “Death Star number two. I was already with Papa Zeke. He was stable, you know? He had lived on Alderaan for a long while and well, we all know how that ended. Went into hiding when he took me in.” Sera raised her glass in a half-hearted toast and downed a long drink.

Din swirled the liquid in his glass. “I’m sorry.” Din said softly.

Sera just shrugged. “What I wanted to show you was this.” She picked up what Din had assumed was a deck of cards, but as she laid them out, they appeared to be more like children’s flash cards. Instead of numbers and letters, they were colors. Sera laid out half a dozen before she looked up at the Mandalorian across from her, who was studying the cards with unbridled awe. Meticulously hand-written Aurebesh letters spelled out familiar words he had never been able to put into context.

He reached out to draw a finger across the lettering with a shaky hand. “The colors.” Din looked up to see Sera smiling back at him in the lantern light. “Did someone make these?”

“My parents were soulmates. They made them when my mom was pregnant with me. Being grounded drover her crazy. They wanted me to know what I was seeing if I ever met mine.” Sera took another drink from her glass to hide the nervousness in her voice.

Din picked up one card and held it up to the lantern. “This one is red, like your dress.” He looked through the cards laid out on the table and picked another. “Blue. Like your eyes.”

Sera picked up the rest of the desk and shuffled through them, finding one amongst the stack. “Silver, like your armor.” It earned a smile from Din. “I spent most of the day trying to memorize them all.” Sera admitted.

Din finally ventured a drink of Jet Juice. He winced and coughed, the home-made brew going down hard. Sera gave him an amused huff. “Are you sure this is alcohol and not X-Wing fuel?” He croaked. Despite the criticism, he took another drink.

“Brewed right here at home!” Sera lifted her glass and drank down the last of it.

Din poured Sera another glass, though he eyed it with disdain. “I’ll have to introduce you to netra’gal. Mandalorian ale.”

“Oh-ho, so there will be a second date, then?” Sera gave Din a pointed look.

Din faltered. He was just moving from one breath to the next, trying to get from sunrise to sunrise. He had no plan and no goal, and he certainly never considered dragging anyone else down into his despair with him. He had been avoiding the inevitable consequences of his actions: leaving Moff Gideon alive and winning the Dark Saber from him - consequences he worked very hard not to allow to manifest in his mind lest they become real in his waking life. He was living moment to moment. He was still grieving, if he were honest, though he was sure he was not.

Din scratched at the back of his head. “Sera… my life is complicated -” he began.

“Here it comes.” Sera cut him off. “I get it, Mandalorian. I do. I wasn’t expecting this either. I just want to live a simple life, away from all the bullshit. Neither one of us signed up for this. But here we are. Don’t you want to see where this goes?” Sera was leaning over the table now, haloed by the lantern light, her expression earnest and open.

Din blinked, chastised by her levity. “Let me speak? Please?” He said softly. He waited for Sera to give a small nod and sit back in her chair. “This isn’t the first time fate or chance or whatever - that something fell into my lap. I’ve spent the last year following a path I never planned for. It’s lead me back here. And now this…” Din growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Where the fuck do I even begin to explain?” He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes.

With a frown, Sera reached across the table, grasped his wrists and pulled his hands away. Her touch was less of a spark and more a soothing warmth that spread down his arms as she took his large hands into her smaller ones. She could see the swell of his inner turmoil, the lines between his brow growing deeper as he tried to find the right words. His honeyed brown eyes softened when they met her clear blue ones.

“Start at the beginning.” She held his hands, smooth thumbs making patterns over Din’s calloused knuckles as he swallowed and began to speak.

They talked until the sun rose over Nevarro.

[jaa1682-27]

Violent Delights-Chp 8

Chapter 8

Summary: Mando, the child, and Kia arrive on Sorgan and strike a deal so they can lay low for a while...

I was immediately jolted awake by the sudden rattling and shaking of the ship, opting to take a quick nap after doing a systems check of the ship. We had been zooming through infinite space for days, only making a quick stop for fuel and a few supplies. Mando had decided to go out to the outpost alone, as we had to be on high alert now that we were wanted by the Guild and what remained of the Empire. I agreed, not wanting to leave the Child alone on the ship despite the ground protocols being activated.

It was fine before, with Mando and myself being two capable adults; but now, we had someone else to look out for, a small thing that was (mostly) helpless.

As I slowly rose out of my drowsiness, I heard Mando reprimand to the Child, “Stop touching things.”

I wiped my eyes and shifted in my cloak as I looked over at the Child. He was sitting next to Mando on the control pad, and his ears perked up. Then, he slowly reached over to flip the switch again, causing the ship to shake and rattle again.

Mando flipped the switch back and put the Child in his lap. The Child cooed, causing a smile to spread on my face.

“I didn’t know he was such a troublemaker,” I said aloud, as I reached for my datapad below the co-pilot seat.

Mando answered with a slightly exasperated, “You have no idea.”

“So, have you found a planet, or are we just gonna stay on this ship forever?” I said non-chanlantly as I sifted through some notes.

“Sorgan. Deep backwater planet. And there’s a low population density.”

“Good choice,” I replied.

Mando said to the Child, “Ready to get out and stretch your legs, you little Womprat?”

The Child cooed back at him. “No one will find us here,” Mando muttered.

I buckled myself in as we entered the atmosphere of Sorgan and braced myself for the landing. Mando kept hold of the Child, and I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that he was able to land the ship practically one-handed.

I quickly looked outside the windows, taking in all of the forestry surrounding us in the clearing. It had been a long time since I had seen so much green, as I had spent most of my childhood living near caverns, sand, or lava flats like Navarro.

Then, Mando stood up and motioned for me to take the Child. I reached for him and placed the kid in my lap. Standing in front of the ladder, Mando said, “Now, I’m gonna go outside and take a look around. Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll find us some lodging and come back for you two.”

I looked at him incredulous, “Wait, you’re gonna leave us on the ship? But you said it was safe!”

“I said that there was a low population density. I never said it was safe. Besides, you were the one to mention that we had to be cautious.”

“I know, I know,” I rolled my eyes, “But I also don’t want to stay on this ship for days on end. We’re fugitives, not prisoners.”

“Can you just do what I ask? Just stay here please,” Mando said with finality.

“Fine,” I gritted.

Looking down at the kid, he said, “I’ll be right back. Stay. You stay with her, okay?” The Child’s ears perked up. “Great.”

Mando climbed down from the cockpit and I heard him grab some weapons from the vault. As he went to another part of the ship, I climbed down with the Child, and then grabbed an old satchel, one that I used to carry food and supplies from the market, and placed the Child inside. He was a tiny thing, but he had a bit of weight on him.

Mando began lowering the ramp and turned to us in surprise when he noticed the two of us standing next to him.

The Child looked up at him from the bag, blinking his giant eyes at him, and Mando’s visor shifted from him to me. “You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people,” I smirked.

Sensing that he couldn’t just leave us behind like he wanted, he sighed, exasperated, and with a roll of his head, he said, “What the hell? C’mon.”

It didn’t take us long to reach the nearby village and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and soup drew us into  one of the huts at the center.

The hut was not packed with people by any means, but it still felt cozy nonetheless. We got a few stares and looks as we walked, but I was used it to by now, since a Mandalorian sighting was so rare.

Mando found an empty table, one of the seats already set up with a booster seat for small children. Mando gently took the child from the satchel and placed him in the seat. I sat down in the remaining seat after Mando and a kind woman walked over to take our order.

Mando immediately ordered for myself and the child, and refused anything for himself. I asked for a cup of water, having woken up from my nap slightly parched.

I knew that Mando would reject the kind woman’s offer for food as it was against his creed to show his face to anyone. Mando had informed me of this during one of my very first jobs with him, when I had made a small batch of instant broth and asked him if he wanted any. He explained his creed and the helmet rule, but thanked me for the effort anyways. Since then, I had just started putting his food to the side in a small container near the food preserver so that he could just grab it and eat in private whenever he needed to.

Then, Mando changed the subject with our waitress, asking about a woman sitting at table on the other side of the hut. She was alone, slightly hidden in the shadows, drinking out of a cup. While she was a beautiful woman, her muscular build, hair, and clothing made her immediately stand out among the smaller, thinner, simply dressed people surrounding her.

If I had to guess, she was a spy, soldier, or mercenary of some kind. Since Mando was inquiring about her, (I smirked when he threw a small pouch of credits on the table to get the waitress to give him more details), I knew  that he was curious about the woman too. Or worried that she was a possible bounty hunter who could snatch the child from us. Either way, Mando was on alert, and now, so was I.

Once the waitress walked away, I turned around and noticed that the mysterious woman was gone. I leaned over the table and asked Mando quietly, “Should I be worried? Do we need to leave?”

“Stay here with the kid, I’m going to go check it out,” he ordered.

The woman returned shortly after with the bone broth and spotchka and I thanked her. I turned my attention back to the child, only to find him and his bowl of broth gone.

“What the hell?” I mumbled under my breath as I quickly rose from my seat.

The sounds of a nearby tussle caught my attention and I quickly ran towards them. My heart was beating fast in my chest as the pure panic ran though my veins. Mando could definitely handle himself, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to the child on my watch.

I made a quick left turn from behind the hut and soon found the child watching Mando and the woman brawl on the ground before they pointed their blasters at each other. I let out a sigh of relief at finding the kid safe and sound. The child finished sipping his soup once I caught up to them, and I scooped him up into my arms.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching him,” Mando breathed out, slightly frustrated.  The woman must’ve put up a good fight if Mando was so out of breath. I smiled at the thought, as the woman also turned to look at me.

“I only turned my back for 2 seconds…” I said as I rolled my eyes at him.

Then, Mando turned to address the woman with a sigh, “You want some soup?”

The four of us made our way back to the café and the child and I finished out soups as Mando and the woman talked. She introduced herself as Cara Dune, an ex-Rebel Shocktrooper. I introduced myself as Mando’s crewmate and trusty mechanic, not bothering to give my last name.

“Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor,” she explained, “Mostly Ex-Imperial Warlords. They wanted it fast and quiet. They’d send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. Then when the Imps were gone, the politics started. We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for.”

Even though I didn’t really care for the politics of it all, I supported anyone who managed to fight off and get rid of Imperial tyranny. Even though I had just met her, the fact that she could hold her own in a fight against Mando AND she had fought against Imperials had earned her a few points in my book.

“How’d you end up here?” Mando asked her.

She shifted in her seat and replied, “Let’s just call it an early retirement.”

She took a sip of her soup and continued, “Look, I knew you were Guild when you walked in. I figured you had a fob on me. That’s why I came at you so hard.”

Mando replied, “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“Well, this has been fun,” Cara stated as she stood up from the table, “ But one of us is going to have to leave, and—unless you want to go another round—I was here first.”

She sat the bowl on the table before she walked away and Mando said to me and the Child, “Well, looks like this planet’s taken.”

I sighed, “It was nice while it lasted. Back to square one, I guess.”

After a silent beat, I mumbled, “It would’ve been nice though.”

Mando said nothing, but I took his silence as agreement with me.

We managed to get a few supplies, mostly food, before we made out way back to the ship. I worked on storing the food and supplies while Mando worked on some minor repairs outside.

Once I set the child down in a nearby storage container for a short nap, I heard the exchange of Mando’s voice with two others I did not recognize. I crept up to the open hatch to eavesdrop on the conversation.

It sounded like the two men, who claimed to be Krill farmers, needed help protecting their village from nearby raiders.

Mando dismissed them, saying that they did not have enough credits to hire him. As Mando began to walk up the ramp, I stopped him.

“Don’t you think you should consider it at least?”

“I did. Even if it was just me on the job, they still wouldn’t have enough. Besides, we have to keep moving.”

“But maybe-“

“No,” Mando cut me off, “we have to go. The longer we stay, the more the Child is put in danger. It’s best if we move on.”

I sighed in defeat at the finality of his tone. There was no room to argue or negotiate. Mando had made up his mind.

Outside, one of the men groaned, “It took us all day to get here! Now, we have to ride back, with no protection to the middle of nowhere…”

This caught Mando’s attention and he quickly asked them, “Where do you live?”

Wait, why does that matter?

The other man replied, “On a farm. Weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.”

“…in the middle of nowhere?” Mando asked.

“Yes.”

“You have lodging?”

“Yeah. Absolutely!” the man perked up.

Oh!

“Good. Come up and help,” he ordered them, and the two men exchanged glances.

After we loaded everything we needed onto the transport, Mando said to them, “I’m gonna need one more thing. Give me those credits.”

I looked at him curiously, but he continued loading the transport. I climbed into the small space that was left for us to sit with the Child, him on my lap. I used my cloak to cover him up as it was kinda chilly out, and he snuggled close to me and cooed. I smiled and Mando paused at the sight of us before climbing in beside us.

“It is kinda cold out tonight,” I told him.

Mando just gave me a nod and motioned for the two men to start the transport. I shifted to get comfortable and then asked, “Did you do a systems check?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure everything was locked away?”

“Yes.”

“Set the ground protocols?”

“Yes.”

“Did you-“

“Yes,” Mando gritted out, annoyed.

“Hey, I’m not trying to be a pest. Part of my job is, well was, to make sure that everything is secured, locked, and accounted for, whether returning or leaving the ship. Plus, I know that neither of us do not want a repeat of what happened with those freaking Jawas.”

Mando leaned back and sighed, “I know.

I let it go and leaned back against a crate. Later, I realized that we had detoured so we could scoop up Cara on the way.

Once the transport started up again, Cara asked, “So we’re basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?”

“They’re quartering us to the middle of nowhere. Last I checked, it was a pretty square deal for somebody in your position. Worse case scenario, you tune up your blaster. Best case, we’re a deterrent. I can’t imagine there’s anything living in these trees that an ex-shocktrooper couldn’t handle,” Mando replied.

“And what about you?” Cara turned to me, “Ever been in a fight before?”

I wasn’t offended by her question; she just wanted to see if I could handle myself. “I’m not just a glorified babysitter if that’s what your asking. And, when I shoot a blaster, I actually hit something,” I replied.

Cara gave me a curious look, “Guess we’ll see.”

“Guess we will,” I challenged back with a smile.

We arrived at the village by morning, the excited chirps and whispers of the villagers and children awakening us. The Child let out a sleepy coo from under my cloak, and I shifted so he could look out and see the village. He moved to the edge of the transport so that he could meet the children that ran up to greet us.

“Looks like they’re happy to us,” Mando commented.

“Looks like,” Cara agreed and I nodded.

One of the girls asked, “He’s so cute! Does he have a name?”

While Mando had discouraged giving him a name back when he was our bounty, things had changed. We had already broken the rules, so why not break another one?

“I call him Bean,” I said to her, going with the first thing that came to mind. The Child, or Bean now, cooed almost as in agreement.

While Bean kept the children occupied, I grabbed a few bags and followed Mando and Cara towards the village. Cara was directed toward a spare hut, while Mando and I were sent in the opposite direction. Bean cooed out in distress, not wanting to be left behind, and I helped him off the transport.

“C’mon,” I said to him as the two of us caught up to Mando.

A pretty young woman was already inside one of the huts, one slightly smaller than the others. It seemed to have been cleaned and emptied before our arrival, save for a cot and crib in the corner.

Mando hesitate before the woman welcomed us inside. “I hope this is comfortable for you. I was told to prepare for only two of you, but it seems that you have added another to your party. Sorry that all we have left is the barn,” she told us as Mando placed a box on the table.

I stood awkwardly by the doorway as Bean waddled his way inside. “This is fine,” Mando said quickly.

“I stacked some blankets over here for you,” she said, pointing to the corner.

“Thank you. That’s…very kind,” Mando answered.

“I’m Omera,” she said with a smile. “Do you need any help with that?” the woman asked me.

I realized that I had been shuffling awkwardly on my feet for a few minutes now, trying to analyze how our new sleeping arrangement.

“Oh no, I got it. But thank you very much,” I answered.

After an brief, awkward exchange with Omera, her daughter, Winta, and Mando, the two of them left the three of us to ourselves.

I said to Mando, “Hey, um, I can just leave what you need here and I’ll take my things and stay somewhere else.”

Mando stopped unpacking and turned to me. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know; maybe bunk with Cara? I just don’t think this is going to work with well, y’know,” I motioned to the only cot in the room.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. You take the cot. Done,” Mando decided.

I shook my head, “No, what, Mando, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor! Plus, I know you’d have to sleep with your armor on with us in the room. It’s…not fair to you.”

Mando answered, “I sleep in my armor all the time. I’ll be fine. Plus, I…trust you with the kid more than anyone. I’d feel more comfortable having you stay near him.”

While I was slightly touched by the sentiment, something about Mando’s tone sounded off, like an extra layer of…something was hidden away.

But there was a lot to do and I didn’t have time to pry into it right now, so I let it go. If he was okay with sleeping on the floor, then so be it.

I added with a defeated sigh, “Okay, but if you need to have your privacy, just let me know and Bean and I will be out of your hair.”

“Bean?”

I pointed to the kid, who was shuffling through an open bag on the floor. “Yeah, Bean. Don’t worry it’s just a nickname.”

Mando said nothing and turned back to unpacking the weapons. I finished unpacking the bags as well as make a list of the items we brought in order to keep track of our inventory.

“Knock knock,” a voice sounds from the entrance to the hut called out about an hour or so later.

“Come in,” Mando answered.

It was Omera, coming in with a tray of water and bowls of various food items. Her daughter, Winta, trailed in silently behind her. Bean cooed happily once he spotted her.

I greeted them both, and then Winta asked, “Can I feed him?”

I said nothing and looked at Mando to respond. “Sure,” he said to her.

Winta bounced over to Bean and fed him  a small piece of food. “Can I play with him?” she asked us.

“I don’t see a problem with it. Mando?”

Mando sighed and said, “Sure” before walking over and taking him out of the crib. Bean chirped and began to waddle behind Winta.

I chuckled at the sight. Suddenly, in defensive mode, Mando spoke up, “I don’t think-“

“They’ll be fine,” Omera stopped him.

“I brought food for you both. I noticed that you two didn’t eat out there,” Omera continued.

“Oh, well, thank you. I should’ve asked. I’m starving,” I piped up as Omera directed me to where to get food.

I put my bag away as I exited the tent but something Omera asked made me pause. She was asking Mando if he ever took off his helmet.

I knew he did, the man had to eat and sleep, but it was her next question that made me want to listen in. “When was the last time you took it off in front of someone else?”

Then, Mando hesitated, but he revealed to her how no one had seen his face since he was a kid, after the Mandalorians found him after his parents were killed.

I walked away to get some food, trying to decipher this new feeling that stirred in my chest. It seemed to be a mix of a few things; curiosity, pity, concern…and jealousy?

No, why would I be jealous? I had no reason to be jealous of the woman who had been nothing but hospitable and kind to us since we arrived.

No, it wasn’t jealously, I decided, but it was something. I decided to push the feeling away, but I did wonder where all this was coming from.

That night, I used the extra blankets Omera gave us to make Mando a spot on the floor. If he was going to sleep on the ground, the least I could do was try to make it comfortable for him while he and Cara patrolled the outskirts of the village.

The next morning when I awoke, Bean was curled up by my side and the pile of blankets were neatly folded on a nearby table.

After breakfast, Mando and Cara returned from tracking the raiders. Mando, always straightforward, said, “Bad news. You can’t live here anymore.”

The villagers immediately protested to Mando’s statement. I stood next to Omera in the crowd, Bean in my arms.

“I know this isn’t the news that you want to hear, but there are no other options,” Cara continued in agreement with him.

“But you took the job!” a villager called out.

“That was before we knew about the AT-ST,” Cara replied.

An AT-ST? Oh, wow, they were in bigger trouble than we thought.

“What’s that?” someone else asked.

“It’s an armored walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn’t tell us!” Cara shot back.

The villagers protested even more, stating that this was there home, where many generations of their families had lived.

“Look, there are only 3 of us; it’s not enough,” Cara replied.

“There’s at least 20 of us here!” the villager stated.

“I mean fighters! Be realistic!” Cara said to them.

I watched as Cara and the villagers went back and forth for a few minutes, before turning my gaze to Mando, who was leaning against a hut, seemingly unaffected by it all.

But maybe we could help them…after all, the 3 of us didn’t learn how to shoot a blaster overnight.

“Maybe we should,” I spoke up.

Cara turned to me. “Should what?”

“We should help train them,” I replied.

“They cannot fight that thing.”

To my surprise, Mando said in agreement with me, “She’s right. They can’t…unless we show them how.”

Cara turned to him in disbelief, and I smiled proudly. I sent Mando a nod, and he nodded in response.

[jaa1682-27]

The misadventures of a badass, stressed single dad

#ManDADlorian

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Chapter Thirty-One: The Devil Rings His Bell

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

Warnings: Explicit Language. Horror.. Angst. Suicidal Ideation. Gore. Light Medical Horror. Nonconsensual nonsexual touching. Panic Attacks. PTSD. Everything goes to hell.

Words: 13k

Summary : “There was a point to this, there should’ve been anyways.”

A/N: This chapter is A LOT. I usually advise to read with caution but specifically here

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Thirty Here

Read on AO3 Here

Objectively, this isn’t what Senior Officer Horix Kelis signed up for when he joined the Imperial Academy some twenty years ago. Stalking through thick branches with dying embers while being drowned from above. Oxygen tubes connecting from the boxy filter on his back to the front of his helmet does little to mitigate the fumes.

The mission briefing was short, conducted from whatever pseudo base was constructed on whatever Outer Rim scumhole that was chosen for the moment. It’s pointless to keep track of locations anymore, setting up only to relocate hardly a month after. Just another worthless planet filled with worthless natives who hadn’t the decency to learn Basic. Who dressed in animal hide and painted their faces with ash.

He heard his superiors talk the day before, bitterly recalling the memory. Moff Gideon and the Thirteenth Sister specifically requested the second best team. Being chosen was no honor.

It started off as twenty men packed into a cargo hold like a can of Naboo sardines. His personal team consisted of five, they crowded over a glitchy hologram. Prerecorded messaging allowed no questions.

“Your mission is to acquire one asset.” Gideon couldn’t be assed to give the report himself, and Horix assumed this Inquisitor was no better. The voice was the same as other report requests, some female lead on Gideon’s cruiser. “Target is female, estimated height 163, an estimated 25 to 28 years of age. Black hair, grey eyes, brown skin.”

A matching hologram appeared before them, a blue tinted figure.  One of his men, Coltin—someone who never had much respect for hierarchy and basic rules—leaned over to him. “I’d fuck her,” he said.

“You’d fuck your sister if she offered,” Netru, his second in command snorts at his other side.

He works with idiots, running his hand over his pale face.

“—accompanied by Mandalorian, Din Djarin.” Another hologram, the man from the rumors of Nevarro. “Master Assassin, Fennec Shand—”

“Ain’t she dead?” Furge muttered.

“—Bounty Hunter, Boba Fett—”

“Isn’t he dead?” Horix found himself saying.

“And an alien.” Ugly, but not the most threatening way to end. “Moff Gideon orders that under no circumstance are the Mandalorian and Child to be harmed. The asset is to be obtained unharmed. Lethal methods are strictly forbidden. Intelligence suggest active harm of any kind will result in your own termination. If captured, Officer Kelis is to inform Moff Gideon via coded signal immediately.”

The cylinder stick pokes from his belt, a single red button protruding from the top. His hand covers it when the others look.

“The asset is invaluable Imperial property, it must be kept in prime condition,” she says. The word strikes them all in different ways. Property. Like the clones who taught them how to shoot blasters as children, or the cards for sabbacc they could buy from the commissary.

Her throat clears through the recording. “I’m sure you are all familiar with the tale of Lord Vader’s daughter—“ They all look to each other, tension in the stuffy room. “Private operatives have located and confirmed this being to be her. The asset shares the same abilities and skill of her father. Perhaps more.”

“This is a fuckin’ suicide mission,” Furge says. “We’re supposed to go after one of them devil wizards?”

Suddenly second best makes sense.

None of them stood a chance, they were never meant to. Another expenditure by the Empire. They weren’t esteemed soldiers from a dwindling lot, they’re as worthless as the rest of the galaxy.

Horix steps in a puddle, wincing at his foot stuck in the mud. He could still have a chance to make it out alive, comm chatter indicated other surges retreating throughout the morning. It’s a tough decision, to leave with his life a coward or leave this life a forgotten sacrifice.

“How are you all holding up?” he asks to the open communication line. “Any updates?”

“Same as they were ten minutes ago.” Coltin. “They already sent and called back the Dark Troopers. Why are we still out here?”

“The Moff specifically requested for us to head this mission, because we’re the best.” Almost. “We’ll stay as long as we have to until it is complete.”

“Reports onboard Gideon’s cruiser said the Inquisitor came down to engage the Mandalorian.” Triemp, the youngest of the group. He never got to properly graduate from whatever academy he came from.

Lothal, Horix thinks. He’s still too skittish, like a frightened kitten.

“Bitch is crazy,” Furge says. “They said we couldn’t do that.”

“Thirteenth Sister can do what she wants. She doesn’t concern us—“

“Wait,” Triemp says. “Wait. I’ve just gotten word—The Mandalorian has been… taken care of?”

“Elaborate.”

“It’s just that. We weren’t the only ones instructed not to harm him. My source says the Sister and Moff Gideon were screaming at another on board.”

“Is he dead?”

“Gideon?”

“No genius, the Mandalorian.”

“Uncertain. If not completely, close to it.”

Netru speaks up, “…The Mandalorian is down?”

“Correct.”

“Have you heard anything about the alien?”

“Acquired by the Inquisitor,” Triemp says, gulping his words. “She’s directly gone against orders.”

“If she’s alone we have to get back to the ship or else we’re fucked.”

“Let’s not be dramatic,” Horix cuts in. “This was the Inquisitors fuck up, not ours. We still have a job to do. There’s no reason for panic.”

“You think they told us to stay away for kicks?” Coltin asks.

“I’m only saying we don’t know why, it’s foolish to assume.”

“She’s Lord Vader’s daughter,” Netru says. “What else do you need to know?”

It is a valid point. He—whether it be fortunate or not—never had the pleasure of meeting Vader. But his paternity isn’t the only story told throughout camps.

“You honestly believe she’s his child?” Horix huffs. “That’s disappointing.”

“Disappointing?”

“Well, if she is his child… they must share more similarities other than abilities.” A chorus of ohs echos. “I always believed Vader looked more like us.”

“I heard the Jedi kid that blew up the Death Star was his too,” Coltin says. “That kid doesn’t look a thing like her.”

“It is possible she is from a different mother,” Triemp says.

“A bastard?”

“Or he is. She is the one Vader kept after all.”

“Kept the wrong one then,” Furge says.

For once, they all agree.

“Focus,” Horix interjects. “We’ll regroup at the ship, figure out a new plan. Netru, what’s your status on location?” On their initial spread they planned on no more than fifty yards of separation. But he’s always been a wanderer.

With no other man speaking, he’s met with static.

“Netru? Come in. Report your location.” The static pops, crinkling. “KT-9248 come in.”

“Net,” Coltin says.

“The idiot must have walked outside of comm bounds. Furge, what’s your status?” Reluctantly, he answers with coordinates. Not too far off, closer to where Netru was meant to be. “Will you find him?”

“On it.” He drops the connection.

“The rest of you—“ Thunder cuts him off, a lightning strike over the mountains. “Get to the ship on your own.”

“What about you?” Triemp asks.

“I have a mission to complete. I’m going to find and report the asset to Moff Gideon.”

A female voice breaks through the line, honeyed and smooth. “That’s bold.”

“Sir?” Triemp says.

“You can contact Gideon?” Then more to herself she says, “But I thought…”

“Who is this? This is a private channel.”

“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath. “Stupid.”

“This is Senior Officer Horix Kelis, KT-7392 of Imperial Corp 7254 of the Galactic Empire. I demand you disclose your identity.”

There’s shuffling, a cough then steady breathing. “KT-9248,” she says, like she were reading it from a manual. “Netru Bolts,” she sighs, “Junior Officer.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what his arm says.”

“How do you have Bolts?”

“Just his arm,” she corrects. “The rest of him is… here and there.”

“Holy shit,” Coltin says. “It’s fucking her.”

Triemp whispers, shaking, “Lady Vader.”

More breaths come from the end of the line. Spiking chills run up Horix’s skin. Breaking into a sprint , feet snapping twig and splashing in streams. “Back to the ship! Back to the—“

“I don’t know if I like that name.” She’s completely mellow, sounding dazed. “Lady Vader… Sith are given names—” She stops short, and humming enters his ears. “Hello. Which one are you?”

“Furge! Furge get out of there!” Horix shouts.

“Hi Furge,” she says. “I’m—oh, this is a lightsaber—an arm… I couldn’t figure out how to it take off. It’s in poor taste I know, but… yes, it’s his… I only wanted his help,” she snorts, “things got out of hand. Clearly. I won’t hurt you if you help me. I promise.”

The connection turns to static again, the surrounding rain and winds blowing out the mic.

“Sir,” Triemp says.

“Get on the other line, Tri. Contact the remaining, order every man to return to the ship immediately. After that I want you onboard, locked in.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Colt, get off the comm, I’m sending you my coordinates. We’re furtherest out, right now we’re stronger together.”

“Understood.”

The girl’s voice comes in again, more on edge, pointed. “Horix, is it? May I ask you something?” 

“What is it?”

“Is Furge lying to me?”

“What?”

“He says they took the Child. Is he lying to me?”

Stuttering, Horix answers no. Distant from the rest, a scream to awaken hibernation sounds. Breathing follows. Five inhales, six exhales.

“How many of you are there?”

“Twenty.”

“Eighteen now.” Cold. Missing the sickly sweetness it was coated in just moments ago.

Sick to his stomach he can hardly repeat it. “Eighteen.”

The humming stops, and her voice comes directly from the microphone on Netru’s detached arm. “Officer Kelis?”

He swallows collecting spit. “Yes?”

“You should start running too.”

---

“Wake up Mandalorian. Wake up.” 

Groaning to life, every muscle inside of Din tenses and every joint cracks. It starts with ringing in his ears, ending with vision restored to his eyes. His side is prodded by a blunt object, later discovered to be Fennec Shand’s foot.

“Lu…”

“Wrong Fett,” Fennec snorts above him. “I think he has a concussion. Should get checked out.”

He finds Boba, or three Bobas, the world a dizzy mess.

“Where is she?” The Bobas ask.

Din blinks, struggling to focus on the data within his helmet. Heart rate is at an all time high, blood pressure the same, oxygen levels too low. He considers the possibility of being dead, a void filling his mind. “Who?”

“Maker he’s lost it,” Fennec says. “Your girlfriend. Where is she?”

“Girlfriend?”

Concern now etches into Fennec, she crouches, face pinched. “What the fuck happened to you? Your girlfriend,” she says slower. ”Lumina. The one you were going to propose to this morning?”

“What?” The Bobas say.

“There was no good time to tell you.”

“Why was I not consulted first?”

“I don’t think that matters right now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Later,” she says. “Mandalorian, where is Lumina?”

Din groans again, pants unheard through his modulator. If this is how she feels after her increasingly common fainting spells, well he can’t blame her for getting sick each time.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Where’s the kid?”

The Bobas nod to Fennec. “Search the ship.” Then to Din, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Since when?”

“Since…” He frowns. When did he see her last? She was there last night. This morning before she left on her walk… Din coughs, the sludge of soil uncomfortably wet under him. Nothing comes back to him as a clear picture, fuzzy understandings lingering in his mind.

There’s a fire, a storm… Imperials. She came out of the woods at some point with the Child…

Din blinks, only now noticing wetness on his face, too cold to be blood. It hits him like a ship thrown out of hyperspace.

“Lumina,” he says panicked, sitting up far too quick. He speaks again, surprising himself with the anger it comes with. “That fucking bitch.”

A blaster bolt flies against Din, sparking beskar right over the left side of his chest. Knocked back fully to the ground again, the three Boba’s turn back to one with proximity. His soiled boot keeps Din pinned, blaster and wrist gauntlet pointed to his head.

“What the fuck—” Din gasps.

“Ne shab'rud'ni,” Boba says. “I don’t give a fuck what she did to you. If you ever disrespect her again, you’ll wish she got to you first. Am I understood?”

 “Fett!” Fennec stands at the top of the Crest’s ramp, unfazed by the scene. “We have a situation.”

“I’ll say.”

“The Child is missing.”

While Din’s head snaps the best it can to her direction, Boba removes himself, holstering his gun. “What do you mean missing?”

“As in he’s not here.”

“The Jedi took him,” Din says. He tries to stand again, slow, an eye constant on Boba.

“What Jedi?”

“She came with the TIE… had a red one of those laser swords.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Fennec asks, jumping off the ship.

“Inquisitors,” Boba says.

“They’re all dead.”

“So are we.” He points to he sky. “And the Empire. And her. We’re all supposed to be dead, none of it matters.”

“But if they’re here then—“

“We’re too late. It’s already happened.” Boba grabs Din by his shoulders, despite the height difference and with significant strength. “Mandalorian, where is she?”

“She left,” he says.

“Left where?”

“I don’t know. She was talking about Gideon and—“ His hand leans against his head. “Fuck.”

“He needs a medic,” Fennec decides, approaching. “Concussion, internal bleeding, who knows what they did to him.”

“Mandalorian,” Boba says.

Din doesn’t mean to snap, or at least he doesn’t think he does. Nothing feels like himself. “What?”

“I need you to tell me everything you remember.”

“She said—“ It’s like he’s filled with static, memories glitching from one thing to another. “She… wanted to talk to him and—I don’t know. I…” He takes a breath, collecting his thoughts with the ground. “I was with her and she was crying and I— we… I had her. She promised she wouldn’t leave anymore. She promised she’d stay.” He looks up. “Then all I wanted was to get away from her. So I took the kid and I left.” 

Fennec looks dumbfounded, he’s sure Boba shares the same expression.

“Let me ask you something,” Boba says. “Do you love her?”

“What?”

“You wanted to marry her right? Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t you rather she be here then?”

“…No.”

“Why?”

Din sits with himself, silent. He doesn’t have an answer, not one that won’t result in another assault from Boba. He can’t say the thought of her makes him irrationally angry. That he gave her everything, every piece of himself and she still left. Again. 

But… he’s the one who left ultimately. He grabbed Grogu, he agreed to it, he knew what it meant, the conditions she set. 

Pounding intrudes on his head again, the conflict more painful than the blows from the not Jedi.

“She’s in trouble,” Boba continues. “Do you understand that? We have to find her—”

“My kid is in trouble,” he counters. “She can take care of herself. What I need to worry about is getting him back.”

Boba’s arm sticks out behind him. “Fennec, hand it over.” She places a metal disc, the size of her palm in his. Painted black, it flashes red. “Do you know what this is?”

Din nods. “A tracker.”

“Found it on my ship after you left. Whoever put it there knew we would come for her. All of this was planned. All of it. Do you know what that means?”

He says nothing.

“It means she knew. She knew the Empire was coming.”

“You don’t know that—“

“That girl can sense the energy of a city on the other side of moon if she damn well pleases. She spent her whole life on my ship, you really think she couldn’t tell there was a tracker?” His voice lowers, a whisper with killer instinct. “They want her. You will never understand how valuable she is to them.”

“Why? She’s not special like the kid, she doesn’t have—“

“Abilities? Powers? Never mind everything else, you know she can feel energy, that she hears things we could never. What do you call that? They have your kid and they’re not gone. Why is that?”

“…She said she made a deal with Moff Gideon.” He says this slow, coming to his own realization. “That’s why she wanted me to leave. Said he wouldn’t hurt us, the kid. That he’s scared of her.”

“She knew exactly how this would go. They fucked up Mandalorian. If she finds out they have your child—you’re the only one that can bring her to her senses and stop her.” 

“I don’t understand. Stop her from what?”

“From killing herself.”

---

Horix never met with Coltin. He took the girl at her word, sprinting before the last syllable dropped. He doesn’t care about being a coward, all he wants to do was live. Honor be damned. Being exiled, put on trial, discharged. He’d rather all of it.

He found Triemp first. The poor fucking kid, he looked just as scared as he always did. The others he’d rather not remember, though he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the smell.

There are five left, including him. Could be less and he just hasn’t found them. Coltin is out there still, but Horix doesn’t intend to look for him. He has to get to the ship, fly away, leave the sector, the Outer Rim.

He has to never look back.

It’d be easier if he knew how to get out of the labyrinth. If it weren’t for the fact that he has yet to see the same body twice, he’d be convinced he’s been running in circles.

He has no time, and yet it dares to feel infinite.

 Horix sees Coltin first. He’s held against a tree, four feet in the air. His hands grip around his own neck, feet kicking out. Then he sees her. At the base, hand passively raised only to her shoulder. She’s drenched in rain, possibly other fluids he won’t spend time imagining. She has a lightsaber, red, prominent from the rest of them.

“Don’t move!” Horix shouts. His blaster rattles in shaky hands. He switches the setting off of stun. “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you I swear.”

She listens. He catches how her eyes roll, annoyed, pushing her hair out of her face. The lightsaber  turns off, and attaches to her hip. She turns.

“I said don’t move!”

“Officer Kelis?” she asks. “You came.” He could swear she’s relieved, voice like a lullaby. She looks at Coltin, tilting her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t need you anymore.”

Her wrist turns, and so does his neck.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, turning to Horix. “I’ve been looking for you. I need your help.”

“You killed him. You fucking killed all of them,” Horix pants. “You’re a monster. You tore them apart—“

“And I apologize for the mess. It could have been cleaner, I got carried away. That doesn’t matter now. I need you to help me, I won’t kill you.”

“No. No! You’re just like him—I’ve heard stories. Of your father—”

“Then you’ve heard about me. You know what they want with me, don’t you? What was your mission objective?”

“I don’t—“

“You’re the one in charge,” she snaps, then breathes. “You should know. What did they tell you to do?”

“Capture you.” He says this shaking, suffocating under his helmet. “To not hurt you. Not hurt the alien. Or the Mando.”

She frowns. She frowns like it were a personal insult. “What do you do after you capture me?”

“I contact Moff Gideon.”

“How?” He fumbles, pulling out the cylinder. His thumb hovers over the red button. “Do you have a rendezvous point?” He nods. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“You’re going to turn me in. Contact Gideon, if you can tell him you have me, do it. Then you’ll take me to your point.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him.” She walks forward, his finger waver on the trigger. “I gave him my terms, he didn’t listen.  So you either help me, or I’ll call him myself and you can join your friends. It’s your choice.”

---

Wiping her cheek, Lumina’s hand turns a dripping red, washed down her arm by the rain. Her chest heaves, soaked hair sticking to her skin. Her left hand clenches, nails biting into her palm. She smiles, the closed kind, full of relief.

There was a purpose to this, there should’ve been anyways. She looks to her lightsaber, drawing a scorch mark in the mud. It crackles with the wetness, a putrid smell coming with it.

She looks behind her, the troopers head—Horix—stares at her beyond the helmet. It flew farther from the body than she intended. She used to be better at that.

Decapitations are few and far between these days.

Her lightsaber attaches again to her belt, a breaking twig snapping her head to attention. She grabs the cylinder from his hand, cringing at the loose muscles.

It’s never not disgusting.

She clicks it, listening for the subtle whirling inside. It shouldn’t be too hard. Wait for the hold or TIE to descend from the heavens, make an entrance. Looking at Horix, she briefly considers bringing him as a gift. She decides against this, too tacky.

It’s his fault for not agreeing. All her plans have turned to shit, she should have expected this would join the list. Now she can’t play the prisoner angle. Not that Gideon would have believed it. But she likes having intent, it’s all lost now.

Dammit.

It takes two minutes for a ship to be spotted entering atmosphere, blinking lights closing in by the mountain range.

It’ll do.

Moff Gideon is a shorter man than Lumina expected. He stands by the entrance of a modified cargo shuttle, arms crossed in front of his body. He holds himself like a giant, gaze solid as stone, pointed forward.

The head would’ve been a nice distraction right now, the storm at last fading away for thick humidity. Taking a breath, Lumina pats down her now straight hair, pulling her shirt to not stick to her chest.

It’s important in times like these to make a good impression. To be presentable.

Lumina storms into the clearing, arm out stretched. Gideon slams against the hold before recognition arrives. His body lifts into the air, gasped breath and bulging eyes.

“I warned you what your insolence would cause,” she bites. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that child of yours. If you find such pleasure in direct disobedience and taking mine, just you wait until you see what I can do to yours.”

Words being too strangled to be understood, she releases her hold, just enough.

“It wasn’t me,” he coughs. “I told them not to—“

“Who?”

“The Inquisitors! I can’t control them, they’re like animals—”

Her body stalls before her mind, and she sounds like a little girl. “Inquisitors?”

“They need a leader. A voice to answer to, someone to fear, to show them the way. You—“ he coughs again, ”—they can all be yours.”

The notions tickles something inside of Lumina, hers. Nothing has ever been hers before. Always someone else’s, a temporary possession, a loan. Inquisitors would be useful… if not difficult all the same. They’d only want more power, her position, her favoritism. They’d be overgrown toddlers fighting over a toy. Then again, a toy can be powerful leverage. It’d give them a goal, ambition, meaning.

A reason to obey.

All useful to her, true. She wouldn’t have to bother in gaining their respect, it comes with the name.

Lumina shouldn’t listen to any of it. She knows the ways of Sith better than any living sentient in the galaxy. Then again… what else does she have to lose?

She lowers Gideon, keeping him against the durasteel. “Tell me more.”

“Some were recovered from Project Harvestor, runaways,” he says, face ready to flinch. “Others new followers, lost, greedy. Insubordinate.”

“How did you get them?”

“They found each other, and they found me.”

“Why?”

“Why else? Connection. Common goals. Three of your peers remain. Four including yourself. 324. 306. And 313.” Gideon catches the twitch in her brow, the split second of a dropped facade. It’s his moment to strike and he’d be a fool to not engage. “I would argue 313 is most eager for a reunion.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He takes a step forward, she takes one back. “You’re spiritual, I’m sure you can find the answer in yourself. In fact, it was 313’s idea to recruit you in the first place. Something about… making good on a promise? Does that ring any bells?”

“Shut up,” she bites.

He takes another step, and she trips on a rock. “You are nothing but a scared little girl. Understand I am offering you the galaxy.”

Her hand shoots forward again, trembling while he’s only that short distance away.

“Hurt me and the Child dies,” he says.

“Where is he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Gideon—“

“Do you realize how much of my time you’ve wasted playing your little game?” He cups her cheek, ignoring her ragged gasp. His touch is warm, dry. “Look at you,” he mutters. He strains her neck up and to the right. Thumb and middle finger pressing into her jaw. “You’re perfect.”

Spit flies to his face, streaking down his cheek. He shoves her head away, hard enough to throw her to the ground. Mud splatters in her hair on impact. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I have never wanted to hurt you.” He kneels to her level, gripping her hair to force a stare. “If you only listened to me before. You could have avoided all of this.” Her eyes meet Gideon’s, he stares at her cold, unapologetic. “What would your father say if he saw you now?”

“Do not speak of him,” Lumina mutters. “You have no right.”

“Don’t you want him to be proud of you?”

“Stop it.”

“He chose you for a reason. Everything Lord Vader did was for you, and you threw it away. And now,” he stands, circling her like a vulture. “You’ve thrown that away too. Look at the mess you’ve made. Do you honestly believe you can go back after this? That the Mandalorian, that anyone could ever accept you when,” he waves outwards, “this is what you do? What you are?” 

Lumina’s gaze hardens, head shaking.

“Did you think you could change? Take a hand at playing someone else? That is not how this works.” Gideon’s voice turns honeyed as he says, “Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere you’re wanted? Accepted? Where you’d never have to hide again?”

Gideon would make a good Inquisitor, she thinks. He turns into warmth, stopping behind her, kneeling once more. His hand grips her shoulder, the flesh of it bruising her. It’s as if a shadow follows him. It’s an enveloping darkness, pulling her hair behind her shoulders, stroking down her arms. Her back hits his chest, and shakes.

“Look at this place,” Gideon whispers. “You enjoy this.”

She’d prefer to sleep now, an exhaustion filling her bones. The ground is comfortable, softer than when it’s dry. Maybe if she did, she wouldn’t have to wake again.

“If you join me, I will give you everything you ever wanted. How does that sound?”

The shadow strokes her cheek, beckoning the rest of her to follow. It’s a hypnosis, singing to her in the echos of the Force.

The dark side has a way of dominating destiny. Forever a winding path, guiding the hopeless follower into the abyss. Ahsoka may have been wrong about her, about all of this. In thinking there could ever be more to her. Everyone was wrong. She is helpless.

The shadow whispers this in her ear.

Lumina doesn’t think it’s Gideon, non-Force Sensitives rarely have such palpable an aura to them. It can’t be her own either, she’s too friendly with it, too much a part of herself to be this distinct. The shadow is the same as it was this morning, before it all began.

Her hands are still red, darker now.

“Doesn’t it sound nice?” Gideon asks her again, but she can’t hear his voice anymore. It comes from the darkness, gentle still, familiar and old. “It will be like it was always meant to.”

“Yes,” Lumina whispers. Her muscles relax, head drooping forward. The shadow circles to her front and holds her chin up.

“You’ve been wronged,” it says. The shadow touches her again, a shiver flooding her skin. “With me, you can make them finally hear. Don’t you want that?”

She says, “Yes.”

 The shadow presses, words hissed. “Yes, what?”

Lumina falls against Gideon’s body, eyelids heavy. “I want Din,” she mumbles, the whiny sort.

“He means nothing,” Gideon says, distinct from the fog. “He only holds you back. I give my allegiance to you, my Lady. ” Her head is light, fumbling to reach her lightsaber. His hand falls on top, a strong grip. “Don’t.”

“Relax,” the shadow urges, and she does.

“What do you get out of it?” Lumina asks.

Gideon’s answer is simple, coming without thought. “You.”

And the shadow responds, “All of you.”

Then Gideon says, “All you have to do, is come with me.”

---

When news first broke about Corellia, Din never thought much about it. It was everyone else in the galaxy that became obsessed. They questioned how a high functioning Imperial base could run in the core worlds, what that meant for the rest of the regions, and the effectiveness of the New Republic.

The location of the base was in plain sight, a presumably abandoned warehouse, tucked in some alley. Pedestrians watched storm troopers walk in and out every day without qualm. 

As soon as the first report came out, written by some novice journalist on Coruscant, the whole of Coronet City was put on lockdown. Residents were arrested by the dozens, security footage from every business within two miles was seized for inspection. New Republic guards stood at check point bases on every other street, chain codes became mandatory upon inspection.

No one got in. No one got out.

To the citizens of Corellia, the new occupation meant the Empire never truly left.

The Senate didn’t care, no one did. They cared about image, brushing away their frayed edges behind riot gear and impromptu searches.

Din caught a glimpse of a news broadcast after Greef Karga told him of the incident. Some senator, a princess and former Rebellion leader, was the first to speak up. Spewing nonsense about needing to be strong and how the resolve of the Republic will not falter.

No one ever mentioned how the base was exposed. Only the initial report credited the discovery to the Red Axe Syndicate. No one else spoke of the so called atrocities found inside the warehouse. No one else gave mention to the reported dozens of storm troopers slaughtered like livestock. Not one word of the hazard crew called in to clean it all up.

As far as anyone was concerned, a base was found and promptly ‘dealt with’. End of story.  Should they find it, Din wonders how the New Republic will cover up this disaster. If they’d even care.

It makes Corellia look like child’s play.

He can’t all together describe it. If a bomb went off there’d be no disparity to the current scene. Storm troopers aren’t just dead. They’re unrecognizable and thrown about like cheap Life Day decoration. Bodies are broken and bent into inhuman positions. It could be debated if some bodies are still to be considered bodies at all. Or just pieces of it.

“Keep your eyes forward,” Boba tells him, leading ahead. “No use lamenting.”

“I’m not.”

“No use for thought then.”

“…Do you know how this happened?”

“Like I said, thought isn’t helpful right now.”

“What does Lumina have to do with all of this?”

A cargo shuttle enters their eye-line, parked with the oversized droids from earlier acting as guards. “I’d wager that’s Gideon. Hurry up.”

“What does he want with her?”

Boba steps over a torso—just a torso—and ducks under a branch. “If she’s with him, you’ll have to go in alone. There’s no telling how much he knows. If he’s smart, his goal is separation. He’ll tell her anything he has to to get her on his side. If he knows what I fear he does, I won’t risk being the one to cause her turning.”

“And what exactly would he know?”

Boba comes to a full stop, and he turns. “You should consider yourself lucky you’re not interesting enough to have anything to hide. Over time, it devours you.”

---

The cargo hold of deliverance for Moff Gideon stands surrounded by droids larger than man. They wear an imitation of black armor. Red lights acting as eyes scan the area, their heads turn from left to right and back again.

The export door to the shuttle is prompted wide open, the Moff himself paces around the inside. His hands clasp behind his back, cape blowing with every sharp and unnecessary turn he makes.

An officer stands at attention in the doorway to the cockpit. Were it not for his rising chest Din would believe him to be a droid as well.

The inside of Din’s head feels like a steady vibration, his neck twitches. Maybe Fennec was right, a concussion would explain the weight of pounding dread in his mind.

Boba already circled back to camp, were he here Din would have it in his right mind to make him stay instead. What does he care about finding her? The idea of her alone ticks a bomb in his heart.

Boba should be the one here, not him. She’s his child whether he’d be keen to admit it or not. Din has his own to look after, to look for. All she is, is a distraction from the real issue.

She wanted to leave, Din reminds himself. She saw him. He gave her everything and she left. He shouldn’t be here, not for her.

He doesn’t see her until it’s almost too late, turning in the bushes to make an escape.

From the very beginning, the very first day in the mechanic’s hangar on Tatooine, Din Djarin has inexplicably been drawn to the girl. Possessed in a way to consume nothing but her, to live only off her smile and steel eyes. He’s lost himself in her, finding a horrifying discovery that whoever he is, whoever he was before, no longer exists. 

She is a curse that has stripped him bare to all his inhibitions and he has so willingly granted this. He should despise her, he wants to. Everything in his head drives his logic to the conclusion that she must be left. To allow her to do whatever it is she does when she runs away. To take the opportunity and leave. Leave her, leave for good. That he would be happier beyond measurable belief.

And Din believes this.

But then he sees her. The same way he’s seen her every morning in the sun and every night in the moon. He can’t help himself anymore than he could on Arkanis, seeing her again. Barely an hour away feels like a lifetime apart.

The universe and all of its gods have guided him to her, and for what reason? What path could be so necessary he must face this constant torment? She holds a part of his soul he never knew was missing. 

Try as he might, he can’t leave her.

Not yet.

Not without leaving himself.

Lumina sits in the hold, back to the outside on bent knees, head bowed. Muscles tremble, a constant shiver from the incoming wind. She’s tied up, shoulders forced back, rope digging into her wrists. Moff Gideon paces in circles. He grabs something black at her hips, handing it to a droid.

Gideon raises a hand against her but the strike never hits. Instead he’s frozen inches before contact is made. The droids pull their weaponized arms against her, a unified step forward. All at once Gideon’s hand falls, as do her shoulders.

Din alters the inner mechanics of his helmet, sound readjusting to a new frequency covered in static.

A rush comes over Din, pricking from inside his throat. His muscles turn rigid, his vision almost red. He’s never had a clear grasp on her abilities, they make as much sense as the kids. But if there’s a chance… he may have a plan.

“Fascinating.” The voice comes from Gideon, paused in front of her. “What your peers accomplish with action, you do with thought alone.” He reaches out. “I see why he chose you.”

“I told you don’t touch me,” she mutters, riddled in exhaustion.

“Lumina,” Din says, just louder than a whisper.

Her head lifts like a startled kybuck, turning to the left.

“Lu, can you hear me?”

“Don’t bring him into this,” she whines. “You can’t do that.”

“Who do you speak to?” Gideon asks. “What do you hear?”

“I’m sick,” she whispers, though not as a response to him. “I’m sick. He’s making me sick, none of this is real. None of it matters.“

“Sarad,” Din says. “It’s me.”

She stiffens, looking both directions. “What?”

“Get Dr. Pershing on the line,” Gideon says to the officer. “She needs an immediate evaluation.” The officer nods once, he disappears into the cockpit and Gideon follows.

“Lumina,” Din says again.

She doesn’t waste time. “Where are you?”

“East. Behind the shrubs, twelve degrees to your right.”

“I can’t turn around.”

“But you can feel me. Can’t you?”

It takes a second, but her head nods. “I thought—How are you here?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Din groans, shaking his head as the pounding returns. “I came to bring you—Fuck.”

“You have to leave,” she says. “It’s not safe here.”

“How did Gideon get a hold of you?”

“Din you can’t be here. I mean it. You have to leave, tell Boba I’ll be fine. If Gideon sees you—“

“Can you stand? I’ll distract the droids, you can make a break for it while they aren’t looking.”

“Din—“

“Can you?”

“…Yes.”

“Okay.”

Scared, breathy she asks, “Are you real? How am I talking to you?”

He shrugs. “I have helmet hearing. You have super hearing. It’s convenient.”

She scoffs. “Yeah… yeah it’s you.”

---

Plans, as Din Djarin has long come to find out, are far better in theory than in action. What he expects to happen as soon as he spots his opening—as he aims down the barrel of his pistol, pointed at the exposed mechanics of the droid furthest in the ship—is for the bundle of wires to collapse into a heap of itself.

In time he will learn reality will never match expectations.

The droid doesn’t even stumble in its assigned position, eyes lifting from its harder gaze on Lumina out into the forest. The others follow its direction.

Their march synchronizes like soldiers, filing out the shuttle two by two. Unfortunate, but not impossible. He shoots again, now to the first in line. In their hive mind, they approach him, guns raised.

Shit.

The droids block his view of the ship, but he picks up the sound of shuffling. “If you can run, I suggest you do that now!” His pistol fires, each shot directed and with no impact. “What the hell are these things?”

“More than you can handle. Get the hell out of here before they kill you.”

“What about you?”

“Do you actually want me to go with you?”

The shutdown of his mind is one Din never expects or intends to have happen. All thoughts disappear into an opening abyss. He loses focus of aim, sight, consciousness even. The ability to process the wind, the approaching droids, her words. It all vanishes. 

Because he doesn’t. The simple and frankly obvious answer in his mind is no. He never wanted to do any of this, but he can’t say that. Not to her, not here, not in the middle of his failing rescue mission.

“Din?”

He wants his kid. He wants to go back to the Razor Crest and get the hell away from this place.

“Din?”

He wants to get away… from her.

“Din!”

Before he can act, let alone think, a hand of the front droid grips him. He’s lifted by the neck, dangling like a baby tooka from its mothers mouth. Despite his protest and struggle, he’s returned to the ship. Thrown to the ground he lands right in front of her. She hasn’t moved an inch.

Lumina pulls against the ropes that hold her, shuffling the best she can. “Be careful with him!” She barks. He isn’t sure they understand much of anything. “Din? Din, are you okay?”

An automatic response, the display in his visor runs through a heap of diagnostics, scrolling past his vision in orange text. Nothing’s broken, not yet anyways. Head trauma is suggested, whatever that means.

“I think I’m fine,” he mutters. “What—“ He stops short, seeing her. She’s drenched and bloody, red smeared across her cheek, her hands… dried mud caked in the creases of her pants, clumped in her hair. “What happened to you?” Gathering the strength, he rises to his knees. Cupping her face the way he has a thousand times before, his thumb wipes her cheek. “Is this yours? Did Gideon do this to you?”

Her face drains of color, the same emptiness he found in her on Corvus taking her features.

“You can’t be here,” she whispers, pulling away. “You’re not supposed to be here, it’s all wrong.”

“Shh.” He pushes hair from her eyes, leaning forward. “It’ll be okay. We’re together, we’ll find a way out we always do.”

She’s misty, distorted in motionless air. “No, Din, you don’t understand—“

“Gideon took the kid—“

“I know.”

“You know?”

Lumina leans against his helmet, shallow puffs of air fogging his vision. “Din, listen to me. I have to do things my way now, I can’t—I can’t have you mess this up. You have to let me go. You’ve done so much, you have to stop. Okay? You have to stop now.”

“Lu… I don’t know what’s going on. I feel—something happened. I can’t remember anything it’s like… I don’t know. What I do know, is that the kid is gone. Someone took him, I can’t get him back without you—“

“I know,” she mumbles. “That’s why I have to do this.”

“You, promised me Boba Fett.” Gideon stands above them in the doorway. Lumina slides her body in front of Din’s. “What is he doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” she says.

“You told me—“

“I know what I said,” she snaps. “I can’t—I can’t control him. I don’t know why or how but nothing I do works.”

“Then what good are you?”

“Plenty. You’ll learn that, but you have to let him go. He doesn’t have anything for you.”

He stares at the Mandalorian, face twisted in a scowl. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Gideon, you have what you want from me,” Lumina says. “That should be enough. Let him leave.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Din Djarin.” Moff Gideon says. “I should have given the order to kill you when I had the chance.”

“That’s your own mistake,” Din retorts. “Whatever she has for you isn’t worth all of this.”

“You have no idea what she’s worth.”

“Destroying an entire moon? Have you taken one look at the damage you’ve caused? Your own men are massacred because of what you’ve done. Does it mean nothing to you?”

To Din’s own surprise, Gideon lights up. “What I’ve done? You don’t honestly believe that I am capable of all of this. What aim do I have in gutting my own forces like fish?”

“What aim did you have in destroying Mandalore? I don’t care what information you want out of her. I came bring her back and that’s what I intend to do.”

Gideon paces around them, the heels of his polished boots click on the floor. Each step heavy with purpose. “She isn’t going anywhere. Not anymore. She will be returned to exactly where she was always meant to be.”

“She doesn’t belong to you.”

“Of course not. Just like her father, she is property of the Empire.”

Beside him, Lumina turns rigid, biting her bottom lip raw. 

“CF-318,” Gideon says. “How is he immune?”

The signs are the same as they always are. Her emotions become distant before disappearing completely, her eyes lose herself, her chest heaves, panicked and desperate for air.

Din’s reaction is muscle memory. His arms wrap around Lumina, the touch of his beskar cooling her feverish head. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay, just breathe. I’m right here, Lu. It’s okay, don’t listen to him.”

“Lu,” Gideon mocks on his tongue. “Midnight. Gloves. Tracker. Ayy’Numa. Marie. Nebula. Estelle. Ellian. Omani. Atikya. Lu. Why do you insist on hiding who you are?”

She strains herself to speak. “Do not—”

“CF-318. You are Imperial Assset, CF-318F1.” He kneels to her level, squinting. Were it not for the combat droids Din would have his hands around his neck. “I believe I asked you a question. How is Din Djarin immune?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Gideon says. “Tell me. Are you not strong enough?”

“I am.”

“So tell me why.” Snapping leather fingers, the droids form a new position. They circle the trio, guns all aimed… at Din. Before Lumina has a chance to react Gideon grips her arm, pulling her away.

She struggles against him, yanking until the rope burns her skin. “No, no! Gideon!”

“Why has he not listened?”

“I told you!”

“Don’t. Lie.”

“I’m not! Don’t hurt him!“

“Fire on my command. In three. Two—“

“It’s the beskar!” Lumina shouts. The light behind them shatters at its base, glass spilling on the floor. “I can’t get past it, it’s blocks everything! That’s all I know. I promise.”

Gideon, never one to be satisfied, throws Lumina at Din. She crashes into his chest, they almost topple over. “Mandalorians,” he mutters. “You lower yourself with him. Do you realize this?”

“That’s not true,” Lumina says.

“And what do you suppose they’ll say when they’ve realized you’ve broken the first rule of your programming? You have no credibility with him.”

“Lu,” Din says. “What is he talking about?”

Gideon’s expression flickers. “Does he not know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters.

“Do you have any idea who she is?” Gideon asks. “The power she holds?”

“I don’t care about that, that’s behind her. It’s behind us.”

“Oh but you should,” Gideon laments. “Since the death of her father, she is the rightful heir to the Empire. Hand selected by the Emperor himself to one day rule at his side.”

“What?” Comes in unison from both Din and Lumina. 

“That’s not true,” she says.

“Do you deny your inheritance?” Gideon asks.

She says nothing.

“Lumina—“

“Palpatine tried to kill me. He never wanted me, he wanted the other one.”

“The Jedi,” Gideon says.

“He had a choice. It wasn’t me.”

“And yet here you are. Alive. Why do you think that is?”

“My father saved me. He wanted me alive.“

“Do you honestly believe, the Emperor did not know you survived? That he is capable of making mistakes?”

Her tone strikes with hesitancy. “You don’t know him like I do.  He is selfish, and greedy, and his arrogance blinds him. I spent my life studying his weaknesses. I know exactly what that man was capable of. Mistakes are high on the list.”

“He sees you as his granddaughter,” Gideon says. “Your return is of his demand. He wants you. He needs you.”

Only now, Lumina falters. Din can’t tell what comes over her. Why her head falls back, why her breathes come from her mouth, or what she stares at on the back wall like she’d seen a demon.

“Stop it,” she whispers. “I don’t want—I don’t want you. Shut. Up.”

“What are you doing to her?” 

“Nothing. She’s deranged,” Gideon offers.

“She’s sick. Has been for weeks. You’re making her worse.”

“No. She’s only rediscovering herself, her anger, her loyalties. And you my friend, are the final piece.” He looks at the droids, waving his hand. “Allow Din Djarin to stand.” So he does. ”Follow me.” 

Moff Gideon guides him to a wall of screens, he twirls a code cylinder between his fingers. “I believe it’s time you discover the truth, Mandalorian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend.” He snickers from the word, plugging the device into the computers terminal. “I’m afraid, has been harboring a dangerous secret from you.”

Lumina stops talking to herself, short, all at once. “What are you doing?”

On Gideons command, two of the droids haul her off the ground. One grips her arms together, the other keeps its gun to her head.

“What are you showing him?” She pulls at her hold, to no avail. “Gideon let me go. This wasn’t part of the deal! I told you he can’t know about it!“

“What deal?” Din asks, facing her.

“Moff Gideon,” Lumina ignores, to his surprise sounding like a politician. Strong. Powerful. “I command you to stop and release me this instant.”

Display monitors come to life, static and blue. All fill with the same frozen with an image of Lumina. Sat in the Razor Crest, a growing bruise under her left eye.

“I apologize,” Gideon says, regretfully melodramatic. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

On the screen, Lumina comes to life. Rustling plays through speakers before her voice. “Red Axe, Crimson Mission Report,” she says. The date and time follow. Over four months ago. “Current location: Trask. Previous location: Arkanis. Destination is currently uncertain, but I assume somewhere in the Outer Rim. I’ll update when I can. Contact with target has been successful. Relationship with target known as the Mandalorian is—” Lumina, the current version of herself, pulls against the droids. She strains herself shouting Gideon’s name, “—uncertain, and in development. No news of interest to report.” She sighs, hand rubbed over her face. “You know I really fucking hate you for sticking me with him again. I was better on my own. I left for a reason. As soon as you clear me to come back I’m gone.”

The next video plays:

“Current location: Hyperspace. Previous location: Llanic. Destination: Ryloth. Relationship with target…” Smiling, Lumina says, “Good.” Noise rattles in the background, she turns to it. “One second!…Get a better ship and I’ll be faster!” She looks back at the camera, grinning. “Really good. I gotta go, bye Lena!”

The next she dates hours later, bright red marks littering her neck. She pulls her hair in front of her shoulders. “I’m doing my job. You said to get close to him… I am not being disrespectful… no I know I’m not allowed to but… All of it?” Her eyes roll. “Red Axe, Crimson Mission Report…”

The next plays, cut to the middle. “Relationship with target is decreasing and really fucking annoying.”

Then the next. “Relationship with target, satisfactory.”

---

“…Acceptable.”

The videos never end.

“…Stupid.”

They play one right after the other.

“…Fine.”

Din hasn’t said a word.

“…Increasing in my favor.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s breathing at all anymore.

“…The best its ever been. He’s really great—at falling for it, I mean. No I just—it’s pathetic. Naboo is really nice though, it’s the most at home I’ve ever felt… I don’t know, it’s familiar.” The clip stays uncut after this, Lumina nodding, tying up her hair. “Technically I’m not ‘diverging from the mission’. My job was to follow the Mandalorian, I’m still doing that…”

“Turn it off,” she says. “We didn’t agree to this, turn it off!”

“Don’t.” It comes from Din.

No one dares to move.

“…I’m not that horrible,” Lumina says. “I can pretend to not be horrible. Very well, might I add. You know this.”

“Pretend?” he repeats.

“Din, I can explain.”

“This whole time. This whole time you were pretending?”

“No! No, never.”

“He is!” Lumina laughs in the video. “He’s been very… sweet to me, in his own way. And he’s started taking his helmet off. I haven’t seen anything, obviously, but, well it feels important to report that.”

Finally, he looks at her. She can envision his face, every line, every hair with perfect clarity. She wishes she couldn’t.

“You didn’t know her lineage,” Gideon says. “You don’t know her worth, her power. You have no idea what she is capable of. How she,” he points, “alone produced what you’ve seen out there.” His attention returns to the screen. “This is my favorite part.”

“I’m not attached,” Lumina argues. “I do not love the Mandalorian. I will not ever love the Mandalorian. And he certainly does not love me. I am perfectly capable of staying on my mission and completing it. Whatever it is, I can and will do it.”

The montage ends here, glitched and stuck in the middle of her eye roll.

“These are doctored,” Din swallows, “it’s easy enough to do. You have the technology.”

“I ask you this,” Gideon muses. “What benefit do I gain in creating a false narrative? When she excels at spinning her own web? Mandalorian, how well do you really know her, when she has been my payroll from the beginning?”

Din remains stuck on the screen, her broken image. “Tell me he’s lying,” he says. His voice holds no inflection, no emotion to bear vulnerability. He speaks like it were a term of business. Another arrangement between them, agreed upon over a contract. “That’s all I need. Tell me you don’t work for him.” He turns to her. “I promise nothing else you’ve done matters to me. Just tell me those are fake.”

“Din.”

“Tell me.”

Her mouth opens to close again, shaking. “Din—”

He stands in front of her in an instant. He stares at her the same way he did on the Razor Crest. Before it all began, stuck in the cockpit arguing about her return to Coruscant. “Are they real?” He’s venomous, rasped in a growl. “Yes or no.”

Quietly, she responds, “Yes.”

He says the same thing he did then too, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I quit right after Naboo,” she defends in vain. “I never knew it was for Gideon until it was over, I promise. I would never take a job for the Empire, you know that. Lena never told me why I had to follow you, I thought she was getting back at me for Corellia, that it was another punishment or a joke. Din you have to believe me.”

“Why? You said so yourself, you lied about everything. It’s what you do. So why the hell should I believe you on this?”

Lumina has no response to give. 

And he says, “I’m done with you.”

Nothing inside her is intact. “What?”

“I’m done. I’m done, Lumina. All of this. Everything that’s happened, everything we’ve done. Everything I’ve done for you. It meant nothing.”

“No, no it meant everything—”

“You lied to me.”

She pulls against the droids, bruising her arms. “You think I wanted to?”

“Trust me you don’t want to know what I think.”

 “Relena owned me. If I didn’t do what she wanted I—you know what they did to me. You know what everyone has done to me. I have to listen! I had no where else to go.”

“You had me!” She can’t remember the last time he shouted at her, and she flinches like he were any of the others. “You had me, and you left. That was your choice. I told you then, I’ll tell you now, it’s always been your choice. You left. You went back to that shit hole. You took the job. You work for the Empire. Not Relena. Not Neri. Not your father. You.”

“I told you, I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know?” he mocks. “Who the fuck else wants anything to do with me Lu?”

“I wasn’t hurting you, I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Din scoffs, shaking his head. She thought there was nothing left inside, that her tears were spent. “Cara was right about you.”

She was wrong.

“Don’t say that—“ she whispers.

“You’re a selfish entitled brat. You can’t stand one second away from yourself to think about who you might hurt. Or you and you just don’t care. The moment anyone tells you anything you break down like a child because you know exactly who you are.”

A dam breaks inside. The light above pops and burns out, her jaw clenched. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Oh I’m sorry your highness, did I offend you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m past being fair.”

“Din—“

He steps to her, like it were instinct with a clenched fist glued to his side. “Say my name one more time.” He shakes his head. “I gave you everything I had. Everything you never got. Not because anyone told me to, because I wanted to. Because I was stupid enough to think you had an ounce of good inside of you. I wanted to marry you. I trusted you with my son—“ He stops. He looks at Moff Gideon whose sly smile only grows.

“Where’s my kid?” Din asks. “Do whatever you want with her, I want my kid.”

Moff Gideon shrugs at the Mandalorian. He’s leaned against the entrance of the cockpit and he shrugs. “Ask her. The attack on you was her idea. I thought we had an agreement you were to be left alone, or else I would’ve done it myself.”

Lumina manages her voice before Din, who whips his head so fast it might actually break. “What?”

“318, now is not the time to be daft,” Gideon says. “The jig is up, you’ve been caught. It’s best to admit it, there’s no going back for you.”

“What did you do?” Din sneers.

“Nothing!” she stutters, a laugh, as panicked as ever coming out. “I would never—I don’t know what he’s talking about. You—You know how much I love him, I would never. He’s my baby too, I wouldn’t—“

“He’s my kid,” Din interrupts. “He’s only my kid, you are nothing to him anymore. Do you understand that? What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Another light goes out.

Gideon’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth. “318, I’ve told you I have no use for the Child anymore. Clearly your plan has again failed. I implore you to tell him the truth for once.”

“Shut up!” she snaps.

“Where’s the kid Lumina?”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“If you lie to me again I swear— I’m only here because Boba didn’t want to look for you himself,” Din admits. “I didn’t want to be here to begin with. I never came for you, I came for him. What did you do?”

Slow, Lumina’s head turns to Din. Her mouth partially opened, her eyes to match beskar, glare. “You…” she begins. She speaks with deliberate pause, dark from her chest. “You don’t want to look for me.”

“I don’t want to look for you,” he agrees.

“You want the Child.”

And he nods. “I want the Child.”

Huh.

Considering all possibilities… Lumina ultimately decides Gideon is right. There is no going back. She does an awfully good job at ruining herself, its happened again with greater consequence but so what?

What reason does she have to care anymore?

At the end of the day she’s still alive. She still has herself. That’s should be all that matters. And it is.

Tears sting at her eyes, she tries to blink them away but they fall with no regard for herself. For six years she’s had nothing but headaches and nightmares. She isn’t proud, she can’t see herself as a victim. She only is what she is, no matter how horrible that may be.

What other choice does she have?

She sees in Gideon the same thing she’s seen in so many people. In Neri, Sully, Relena. What she saw in the mechanic who homed her on Tatooine. In Omera as her wounds were nursed and her body washed. In Tidhel and her stupid pretentious friends playing dress up in greed. In Petiko before his head left his body.

She almost smiles.

It’s exactly what she saw in Din. Sees in Din. And what Vader saw in her.

Opportunity.

Lumina looks between the Mandalorian and Moff Gideon. She can hear the analog clock tick away further in the ship. She counts the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…

At thirteen she nods to Din, her lips pursed. “You think… I… kidnapped my own kid. My child. You think I’m that dumb to take him like this, and not the million times before that I’ve been left alone with him.”

The Mandalorian’s head twitches, and his fist unclenches.

“You, think I’m selfish and entitled and that I’ve been manipulating you from the very beginning. You have to hold yourself back from hitting me.”

Now both his hands turn to fists.

“You hate me,” Lumina says, eyes searching whatever lays beyond the visor. “You actually hate me now. You don’t think I ever loved you.”

“You never did.”

“Yeah? Maybe I didn’t. Then what?  You saw this coming.”

“I saw it coming.”

“You knew this would happen. You knew I never loved you. You always knew.”

“I always knew,” he mumbles. “I…”

She instigates, pushing forward. “What else do you think of me Din? Huh? I lied about loving you. So fucking what. Tell me how much you hate me Din. Tell me.”

The answer is instinctual. “You’re evil.”

“I’m evil.” Lumina scoffs, biting her tongue. “I’m evil. I spend my whole life trying to be good enough to be called evil, and you—I have been nothing but good to you. You, have never seen evil in your life,” she snaps like a whip. “Never.”

The hull shakes, the Dark Troopers holding begin expel black smoke from their chests. 

“That’s enough!” Gideon barks.

“Evil is letting your kid get murdered because of some blond cunt you don’t know. Evil is blowing up an entire planet because some princess won’t tell you where the Rebels are. Evil, Mandalorian is dying and leaving the only person who loved you, who you conditioned to love you without any closure!” The display monitors shatter, glass flies everywhere. “You want to talk about evil? You wanna call me evil? You don’t know the first thing about evil!”

“Does it make you feel better?” Din asks, as always only having eyes for her. “Hurting people like your dad hurt you? Do you think that’ll make him give a fuck about you?”

“What did you just say?”

“You ever think about why Boba doesn’t want to call you his kid? It’s because you’re psychotic. He hates your dad, and you’re probably just like him.”

Without a second to waste, every source of light in the room flickers on and off. On and off until the bulbs explode one by one. The computers of the ship power down to reboot three times over. The droids at her side collapse.

Lumina feels herself burn.

“Get him out here,” Gideon orders the remaining droids. “Now!”

“Where’s my kid, Lumina?” Dark Troopers grab Din by the arms, forcing him back. “Lumina, where is he?”

“Don’t touch him,” she mutters, pulling at her rope. “Don’t touch him. Gideon! Gideon don’t touch him!”

“Hold her back,” Moff Gideon instructs two others. They do and she is once again helpless.

“Lumina what did you do to the kid?” Din shouts.

“Get rid of him,” Gideon says. They drag him out of the ship, the squad of them with guns raised.

“I said don’t touch him! Din! Din!” 

Lumina screams until her throat is raw and the doors shut, trapping her inside. She screams promised threats at Gideon, throwing everything she knows. His mother, his sisters, his daughter, his status. He doesn’t so much as blink.

Not until she starts laughing.

“You stupid fucking cunt. You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’ll ever help you,” she spits. “You were so close… You’re a mistake, Gideon! All of you are the same. You. Fucked. Up.”

“Sedate her,” Gideon says. “Two doses.”

“You’re a coward! I gave you two rules! You think what I did out there was bad? Just you wait until I get my hands on you. You’re going to wish you were dead by the time I’m done with you.”

Lumina screams until a needle pricks her neck, blood running cold. She collapses, and the lights never turn back on.

---

“Where is she?”

The Mandalorian pushes past a questioning Boba Fett without a comment to spare. He limps, shaking out his arm. The droids threw him at a tree, and took off when he hit the earth. Surveying the area, there are less bodies scattered, and he sees Fennec at cliff’s edge wiping her hands.

That’s one way to do it.

“Where’s Adi?” Boba asks again, grabbing his shoulder. He’s stronger than before—or Din’s getting weaker, they’re both reasonable—forcing his entire body to turn on his heel.

It might be a Mandalorian trait, the ability to discern emotion despite the helmet. They both wear theirs, but he can still make out Boba’s tight jaw, his fleeting eyes darting back and forth.

“Who is she?” Din asks, hoarse.

“What?”

“Who the hell is she, Fett?”

“What’s happened?”

Din laughs. Shaking his head he points to where he came. “What happened? What happened is that she’s a maniac and apparently the Emperor’s granddaughter—“

“Who told you that?”

“Did you know?”

Boba shakes his head. “That’s not—she’s not.”

“The heir to the Empire? The chosen one to take over for her father? You’re the one who wants her as an advisor, all that education had to be for something.”

“It was the vision of my employer, I never wanted that for her.“

“Gideon says the Emperor chose her.”

“Impossible. Palpatine never knew her, we made sure of that. We both knew how dangerous it would be if he found out about her.”

“She’s working for Gideon,” Din says. “This whole time she’s been working for Gideon, spying on me. You want to talk about dangerous? Let’s start there.”

“She would never do that, she loves you.”

“I saw the video myself, Fett. She confirmed it!”

“Where is she?”

“She’s with Gideon still, wherever he fucked off to. Hopefully it’s hell.”

“Shit,” Boba spits. He moves from Din, speeding to the Slave I. “Fuck!”

“What’s going on?” Fennec asks. She holds a trooper helmet like it were a toy.

“We have to go,” Boba says. “Ready the ship.”

“Context?”

“Gideon’s taken her too.”

“Unfortunate, but I’m sure she can save herself.”

Boba leans over, whispering. Din can’t make out a word, but Fennec’s expression changes from passive dismissal to real tangible fear.

“You’re certain he’ll find out?” she asks.

“They wouldn’t wipe data like that. One test and she’s caught.” 

“Would they tell her?”

Boba shrugs.

“I told you you had to tell her yourself—“

“Now is not the time for a lecture. We have to go. I made a promise to keep her safe, I’m making good on that.”

Fennec motions at Din. “What about him?”

“He’ll come with us.”

“I’m not doing anything that benefits her,” Din says in defense. “I’m going back to my ship. I’m looking for my kid. I’m done with this.”

The moment comes as if on cue, and Din will forever consider himself nothing but a cursed joke of the galaxy. A green bolt of energy blasts from the atmosphere, shooting between the clouds until an explosion ruptures miles away.

In the exact location of the Razor Crest.

“You’re fucking with me,” he says.

“Like I said.” Boba comes from behind, a hand on his shoulder. “You’re coming with us.”

---

Din Djarin is perpetually stuck in a vacuum of space and time where he is forced to watch its continuance with no say of his own.

His body jostles with every movement of Boba Fett’s ship and he has nothing of value or importance to occupy his vision but the rifle belonging to her. Laid against the wall, propped and looming with shadow. 

It is shadow.

Everything is shadow.

He’s too reflective to be devoured by famine.

Fennec and Fett are upstairs, talking. Arguing. He can’t hear their exact words and he doesn’t want to. They can talk about him. Of her. Of them. None or all of the above. He’s lost the ability to care for any of it.

The only thing he feels is the weight of whatever he could save from the Razor Crest; two ingots of beskar, the ball Grogu played with, and his spear.

Nothing else remains.

“All I’m saying,” Fennec says. She jumps down to the hull, and Boba follows. “Is we could at least try.”

“No,” Boba replies. “I’m not involving her in this.”

Fennec holds some frame that she waves around haphazardly. “She’s been involved in this.”

“The answer is no. You don’t know for certain if she’s alive, and I won’t allow them to meet like this. We can do this on our own. I said I’ve found her before, I can do it again.”

With an exasperated sigh, Fennec tosses it onto the seat next to him, landing face up. “How do you suggest we get coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“We’re on limited time.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Your sister—“

“Meg is the last person I want to talk about right now.”

Meg, or whoever, Din assumes is the girl in the photograph. Young and blonde, sat in the middle of a group of armored men. Each different than the last.

He looks at the photo then to Boba, and back again.

And again.

And a third time for good measure.

Or not so different after all. 

“I know someone,” he says. The first he’s spoken since entering the ship. “He can get us coordinates… If we go to Nevarro, I can get the assistance I need to contact him.”

They stare as if he’s grown a head, and Boba nods.

“I’ll reroute,” Fennec offers, and leaves the way she came.

The helmet does nothing to hide his stiff glare and tight jaw. “We’ll need more numbers if we don’t want to die on that cruiser. I know other Mandalorians we can contact on Trask. They can offer assistance.”

“Who?”

“Bo-Katan Kryze. Her gang. She owes me, or… her.”

“She’s met Bo-Katan?”

“You know her?”

“Of her. She’s a reluctant friend of the family. To put it simply.”

“Reluctant?”

“My people aren’t welcomed in most circles. Specifically hers.”

“Is she going to be an issue?”

His head nods to the side. “She might be.” Boba steps back once, then forward, then back again. “I’m sure you have questions, and although it’s not my place to answer them… do know I understand how you feel.”

Din lifts the frame, tilting for examination. “These your people?”

“Some.”

“How many left?”

“Of them? None.”

“Except her.”

To this Fett says nothing.

“Anyone else?” Din asks.

“There might be more of us laying around still. I never kept track of that, it was more her thing.”

“Anyone else?” he asks again.

“I have a nephew,” Boba says after a moment. “And a niece.”

Din nods, slow, careful. “Do you have children of your own?”

“No. She’s the closest I’ll ever get—”

“And you don’t claim her as a foundling?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t want to hear you say that you understand how I feel. I’ve lost my home. My child has been taken from me. I have been lied to, for months. I wanted to marry her this morning and she is the reason all of this happened, and now she may be dead. You do not understand an ounce of how I feel.”

Boba’s squint can be confused for a glare, or maybe it is and they are one and the same. “You blame her for this?”

“She should have told me.”

“And what would that change?”

The snap is as heavy as cut rope, and burns just the same. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved with her to begin with.” His chest aches, and the fire of the forest has moved to rage of grief inside him. “I wouldn’t have trusted her with my child. I would have never looked at her if I knew this would come from it.”

The glare now, is unmistakable. “She didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I.”

Din leans while his hands grip the plates of beskar on his thighs. “I’m getting my kid back,” Din says. “And if she’s still alive, you’re getting yours. I don’t care what happens after. That is where it ends for us.”

---

An Imperial Starcrusier drifting through hyperspace with no real urgency, rumbles and creaks. Inside the sterile white room, florescent lighting blinds. A male, appearing middle aged, paces. He wears latex gloves and a lab coat, wire frame glasses perched on his nose. He clicks a recorder in his hand, the mechanics whirling awake.

“Hello. Greetings. This is Doctor Pershing,” he says to the holoscanner opposite him. “Let this be documented as HoloLog Twenty-Seven in the Harvested Project. The first in the category subtitled: CF-318F1. Unfortunately, all known documentation on the subject prior to adolescence has been completely wiped. I will have to begin again. There is a lot of ground to cover, so for simplicity sake, I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

Behind him, a girl lays on an operating table. She’s strapped by all her limbs, completely unconscious. An IV hooks into her arm, wires of an EEG covering her head. Her heart rate projected on a second monitor, oxygen levels on a third.

“While enacting my employment under Imperial remnants to Moff Gideon, it has been my task to properly assess all Force Sensitive assets acquired. Mainly, these have been of the remaining Inquisitors. These were former inductees into Project Harvestor. This one, however, is different.”

He sits in a rolling chair, spinning to see her. “She is quite special. Imperial archives have listed this being as CF-318F1, marked terminated some thirteen years ago. The reason for speciality is that this is the alleged daughter of Lord Vader. Whether it is a genetic relationship or not is unfounded. The Daughter has become a myth in Imperial circles. Legends tell of a child raised and trained in the ways of the Force by the Emperor’s right hand. She has been kept hidden for years. Intellectuals such as myself all believed her to be dead or simply nonexistent. Until now. I am proud to say the forces of Moff Gideon have successfully acquired her for my studies. The question has plagued the minds of my colleagues, myself, and my superiors as to why she was favored, saved, selected. I aim to discover this.”

Releasing one of the girl’s arms, he turns it in examination. “It is completely organic, and appears human. Blood samples indicate an M-Count far exceeding that of the other surviving Inquisitors I have examined.” He snorts, pushing up his glasses. “It really is quite extraordinary,” he says to the camera. “I am currently awaiting the results of a DNA sampling.”

“Ah, it is best I mention now. Data logs from a recovered ship of Lord Vader’s details several times over documents listed under the code 631-120-282-024-618.” Doctor Pershing reads this from a notepad on his lap. “Almost all the information has been redacted, save for the name and one mention of a female. Should this be his child it is not unreasonable to presume the file is on her.” 

He ties down her arm again. ”I believe Moff Gideon knows more than he is telling me. He’s instructed perfect preservation of the subject’s—.”

“Doctor.” An Imperial Officer stands in the doorway. He jumps. “Your lab results.” She holds out a data pad. “Moff Gideon wishes to meet with you to discuss your findings. He says you may proceed with any questioning and studies you wish.”

 “Ah, thank you,” he stutters. “Yes. Please, tell the Moff I am thankful. I will meet him before days end.” Doctor Pershings walks out and reenters frame, the doors shut behind him.

He gawks at the data pad. “Maker above,” he whispers, grip tight enough to turn knuckles white. “This is… this is marvelous.” He throws the tablet onto his desk, scurrying around the girl. “I can’t believe it.”

He laughs, a loud singular clap to follow.

“More research is needed,” he tells the camera. “Hundreds of hours perhaps. But should my theory prove correct—“ he motions around the body, waving over her core, “—then I am in the presence of the greatest scientific achievement known to man—so far.” He shrugs. “I never thought I would see this come to fruition.”

 The lights in the room begin to flicker. Medical equipment powers on and off, the room fills with beeping. The girl begins to move, reanimating limb by limb.

“No no no no,” Doctor Pershings whispers. He grabs a needle, injecting a relaxant into her arm.

She groans, weak with a scratchy throat. “What…” She pants, blinking awake.

“Hello.” He crouches by her head, her eyes lazily blinking and soon blinded by a miniature light. “Have no alarm, I don’t wish to hurt you. I am Doctor Pershing, you are currently in my office. I have waited a very long time to meet something like you. If you don’t mind, I have some questions I’d like to ask.” 

---

Chapter Thirty-Two: An Image of Perfection

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

[mourningbirds1]

The Mandalorian fic: Gresham House

A Din Djarin one shot

Summary: Din has a secret place he visits between jobs: A boarding house in 1930s London.

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Din Djarin x “You” (Boarding House Proprietress - nameless female oc  - can be read as a Reader fic but please heed the tags and notes below.)

Tags: Smut; Time Travel; Inter-dimensional Travel; Setting is 1930s London; Female protagonist (“You”) is a Boarding House Proprietress; Lap-sitting; Praise Kink; Service Top Din Djarin; Vaginal Sex; Suppressed Emotions; Touch-starved; Intimacy; Historical Inacuracies; Nameless ofc, No physical description; Second Person pov.

Wordcount: 3.4K

Also posted on Ao3 - link is in my masterlist.

The original post of this fic didn’t show up in the tags so this is a new one. Please update your bookmarks/likes if you want to!

Important author note: Please treat this as a Reader fic if you like. But I have tagged it as nameless ofc because the “You” is less of a blank canvas than my usual Reader fics and I don’t want this to spoil anyone’s reading experience. There is no physical description aside from wearing a skirt and blouse.

—

Gresham House

He arrives as he always does; after dark and unannounced. A monolith of a man at your kitchen door, covered by the night and a black hooded cloak.

It’s been an exhausting day. You admitted two new boarders this afternoon including a retired Police Sergeant from Putney. He’d insisted you change his room three times, then offered you a mint from a grubby looking tin while watching you maliciously, as though he should be very pleased to see you choke on it. But he’s in bed now, as are all your paying guests, and you’re seated at the kitchen table with Ethel, sharing a pot of cocoa and the heat of the dying fire.

The fire’s much needed tonight. The city is frozen and the kitchen window panes are thick with ice that blurs your view of the world outside. Nevertheless, you both recognise the unmistakable profile of the man who walks by on his way to the door.

“Oh!” Ethel leaps to her feet.  

“It’s alright. I’ll go,” you tell her evenly, and you take a moment to straighten your skirt before letting him in.

“Good evening, Mister Djarin. Do come inside, it’s a bitter night.”

“It is. Thank you.” He knocks the snow from his boots before he enters. The action upsets the drape of his cloak, threatening to reveal a flash of silver, and you discreetly adjust your stance to obscure Ethel’s view.

“Ethel, darling,” you say after bolting the door. “Some hot water for Mister Djarin, please.”

“Yes, Miss.” She’s staring at him when she answers and she makes an absurd little curtsy in his direction, then covers her mouth, embarrassed.

This isn’t a small house. The ceilings are high and the rooms are generously proportioned but the kitchen seems always to shrink when he’s in it. As though one of the colossal statues in Hyde Park has come to life and strode across the city seeking shelter and warmth.

He stands beside the hearth now, a picture of inscrutable benevolence, perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his vast chest.

The embers collapse in the fire, clinking like glass against the grate.

“Will you take some supper?” you ask him. “Ethel made her game pie today. You enjoyed it last time, as I recall.”

“That’s very thoughtful. I’ve had a long journey.”

“I expect you have. I’ll show you to your room. You can have it on a tray.”

He accompanies you out of the kitchen, giving the maid a slow nod and a husky, Thank you while she clutches the back of a chair, her knuckles white with the strain of stifling another curtsy.

There’s a room at the top of the house that you try to leave unoccupied on the chance he’ll turn up and need it. It’s in a corridor by itself and has its own WC. It’s not far from your own room. You take him there now, leading him up the back staircase. It’s too narrow for him to walk by your side but you can hear the reassuring sound of him behind you, the wooden steps creaking beneath his considerable weight.

“I’m afraid it’ll be a little stuffy,” you say as you unlock the door. “Perhaps you might write before your next visit and we can air it out for you.”

“Write what?”

“Why a letter, of course.”

His head tilts, and you add letters to the list of things he doesn’t understand. The things you’ve had to teach him about. Gramophone records, wallpaper, Shakespeare, comfort. Things that don’t exist in his— wherever he comes from.

“Ethel will be along shortly with your tray.”

“She’s still afraid of me.”

“She’s dreadfully impressed by you. I think she rather imagines you’re foreign royalty, travelling incognito. A prince or something.”

His chest lifts and he makes a soft, pleasant noise. His version of a laugh. He draws back his hood and opens his cloak.

“And you’d better not let her see all this,” you say, gesturing at his helmet and suit of armour. “She’ll think you’re a knight from the court of King Arthur. I’ll find her out in the garden, searching the bushes for a time machine.”

You’d thought that yourself, before you’d seen the peculiar pistol he carries at his hip.

You let your time machine remark hang in the air while you stroll to the fireplace and devote your attention to checking the mantelpiece for dust.

He follows you there - only a couple of paces for him - and rests a huge, gloved hand on the spotless mantelpiece. “Aren’t you impressed by me?” There’s a smile in his voice. How you wish you could see it.

“Heavens, what a tiresome question,” you say airily. “Perhaps. I really can’t remember.”

He steps into your space and catches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. You remember this. The soft leather of his glove. The way he handles you so carefully.

The visor angles down towards you and you’re pinned beneath his gaze for a long delicious moment. At last he asks, very softly, “Is there anything I can do to remind you? To prove myself?”

“I—Yes. I dare say there is.”

“Good.” His voice is warm, and he slides his hand to cup your nape and squeeze it affectionately. No one else cares to impress you, to make you the focus of such fond attention. Only him. Your throat tightens.

“Din. You were gone so long. I can’t bear it. I was so worried. I thought—”

“Shh.” He presses the cool metal of his helmet to your forehead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

There are footsteps on the stairs and you dart away and gather yourself while he fastens his cloak.

Ethel appears in the doorway, partially hidden behind her tray. You step forward to help but Din moves quickly to relieve her of it, and sets it down on a chest of drawers.

“Thank you, sir,” she says with some effort.

“I shall leave you to your ablutions and supper, Mister Djarin,” you say briskly. “I’m sure you’re eager to get to bed.”

“I am,” he says.

—

You’re standing at your bedroom, window watching the snow fall, when the key turns in the lock behind you. You listen as he shuts the door and locks it behind him, then you turn to watch as he hangs his cloak in your wardrobe. He’s dressed in the soft, black garments he wears beneath his armour. And in his helmet, of course.

He crosses the room to join you at the window. You’d given him a key to your bedroom on his last visit. No doubt whatever that he could be trusted with it.

“Where do you keep that key?” you ask. “You don’t appear to have any pockets.”

“I keep it where it belongs,” he says. “Hold out your hand.”

You do as he asks, and for a horrid moment you think he’s going to give it back. It certainly wouldn’t be the first disappointment of your life. Nor the last, probably.

He places a smooth spiral of glass in your palm. It’s warm from his touch and shimmers with colours you’ve never seen before. You hold it up to the window, allowing the glow of the street lamp to play through it.

“It’s exquisite. Should I ask where it’s from?”

“No,” he says kindly.

You turn it between your fingers, admiring it, and wondering how far he’s carried this precious, fragile thing. How long he’s kept it safe for you. It makes your heart ache. You lift his hand to your face so you can kiss the palm of it. “Thank you.”

There’s shelf next to the window that holds the rest of your collection. Various bits of coloured glassware you’ve found over the years, mostly in the Portobello Road Market or charity shops. But even your finest piece - a cerulean ashtray from Liberty’s - looks drab next to the glistening spiral in your hand. You move the ashtray from its place in the centre of the shelf and replace it with Din’s gift.

He sits on the edge of the mattress to take off his boots. “I thought you’d be in bed by now. It’s late,” he says. “But you’re still dressed.”

“Yes. I wanted you to do it.”

He places his boots neatly on the floor by the bed then he reaches for your hip. “Come here,” he says, and guides you into his lap, keeping his hand on your back while you settle on his thighs. You curl your arm around his shoulders and let yourself savour the feeling of him. Warm and sturdy, and here, beneath the seat of your skirt.

If he were any other man - not that there are any other men - you’d kiss him now.

You aim your gaze hopefully into his visor. “Am I looking into your eyes?”

“It’s— Yes. You are.”

He’s being kind again, you know, but you allow yourself to believe him.

With one hand, he begins to open your blouse. His hand is bare and his fingers brush the delicate skin at your throat, then your cleavage, as he unfastens the buttons. After a few are undone, he stops. “Hey. Breathe.”

Your breath comes out in a rush. “Gosh.” You laugh at yourself. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s so lovely to feel you again. I must’ve forgotten to breathe.”

“Well, try to remember,” he says, smiling again. “It’s important.”

“I do love it when you smile. Even though I can’t see. I can hear it. And it makes me happy. To know that you’re happy. Or relaxed, at least. It’s all I want, you know.”

He’s quiet for a long time. You’ve mostly learned to read his silences but this one feels different. When at last he speaks, it’s slow and deliberate. As though he’s testing the weight of each word before he says it.

“Things have changed since I last came here. I’ve shown my face to someone. Someone I… someone who’s very important to me,” he says. “And I want to show you. If you’d like that.”

“I should like that a great deal,” you tell him slowly. “But—”  

He lifts his hand to his helmet and you catch his wrist before he reaches it. Before he does anything he might regret. “Wait. Are you really sure? You’re certain it’s alright?”

He gives you one of his nods.

“Let me—here, I’ll give you some room.” You transfer yourself from his lap to the mattress.

And then, unbelievably, Din hooks his thumb under the base of his helmet and slowly pushes it half way up his face, revealing to you his mouth, and a strong, unshaven jaw. He holds it there, seeming to hesitate.

“Have you changed your mind?” Or shall I dim the light?”

“Yes. The light. Thank you.”

His voice is different. Unaffected by whatever mechanism the helmet employs to alter it. Your heart begins to race at the sound of it, and at the sight of his teeth, his lips, his moustache. He has a moustache. And his jaw. His dear, stoic jaw.

You get up and lower the jet on the gaslight, watching his shoulders soften as the light changes. He waits for you to return to the bed, and once you’re seated beside him, he pushes the helmet the rest of the way off and places it carefully on your bedside table.

“You’re very handsome.”

The words are inadequate - he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen - but they draw a soft smile from him nonetheless.

He takes you by the waist and pulls you closer. “Come here,” he murmurs, “I want to kiss you.” You sit in his lap again, this time with your knees either side of his hips, and kiss him. He makes short work of your blouse and brassiere, and then his hands travel over your naked back, gentle fingers stroking along your spine while you lean into his chest. He is solid muscle and warmth.

For all his mystery and his measured control, he is, beneath his armour, a man. A man not unaffected by the topless woman in his lap. His cock is hard. You tuck your hand between his legs and massage him softly. He’s pulsing into your palm. Burning hot. He eases you backwards so he can get his mouth on your breasts like he’s worshiping you. He mutters, “Mesh’la,” against your nipple in a deep, rough voice and kisses it tenderly and takes it into his mouth. You thread one hand in his hair, holding him to your breast. Something inside you deeply soothed by the quiet focus in his eyes.

“I want you in my mouth,” you tell him.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Later.” And then he strokes the scruff of his chin over the sensitised peak of your breast and your mind goes blank.

He turns towards the bed, taking you with him, and puts you on your back, pulls down your underwear and climbs over you and presses himself between your legs.

Sometimes, other times, when he’s been quicker between visits, you take your time with each other. One memorable night - your birthday, in fact - you’d spent ages with your legs around his waist while he ground himself slowly and lovingly against you through your underwear. He’d tucked his helmet by your ear and told you all the filthy things he’d been wanting to do to you.

You’ve conjured his gentle rough voice in your mind throughout his absence, when all you’ve had is the memory of it and your own fingers. Tired fingers with raw knuckles, swollen from laundering sheets and scrubbing the floors of this house.

But there’s none of that tonight. Din’s heavy and warm between your legs, working his trousers open to free his erection. He pushes the tip of his bare cock into you and holds himself there, quiet and still. Both of you soothed, for now, by the just enough of it. The contact takes the edge off, but it quickly turns to nowhere near enough and you wriggle, reaching for more of him. “Din, I need—”

He presses his palm into the mattress and lifts his upper body, transferring his weight into his hips, and drives himself all the way into your aching, neglected cunt.

You inhale sharply and clutch at his waist, hard enough to hurt him, surely. But he’s smiling down at you as he starts to thrust. “Good?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, too dazed to manage anything else. He’s thick inside you, rubbing steadily against your walls, attending to every forgotten part of you.

Din likes to talk during sex. He wants, you think, to tell you what you can’t see on his face. And despite the helmet that sits on your bedside table, he does it now, praising you in two languages.

You feel so good. So soft. I’m here cyar’ika. I’m yours. I’m here.

You squeeze his shoulder and he rolls onto his back. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you held firmly on his cock while you move together. Once you’re on top he shifts his hands to your thighs and matches your rhythm with a steady flex of his hips. He’s panting softly. Murmuring words that sound like curses as he watches you ride him.

He’s still wearing his black pullover. “Get this off now. I want to see you,” you tell him. He does as you ask, and then you see it. A brass key. Your bedroom key, laying over his heart, strung on a leather cord worn around his neck.

He waits for you to meet his eyes. “Told you. Where it belongs.”

You contract your floor muscles and squeeze him affectionately, making him moan and draw up his thighs against your backside. The movement pitches you forwards, and you have to grab at the headboard as your vision whites out with the searing pleasure that goes straight to your cunt whenever he’s rough with you.

“You like that?”

“Yes. Harder.”

The sound he makes when he lets himself go is enough to make you come. He starts thrusting up into you hard and fast, but his hands are gentle, holding your breasts. He rubs the rough pads of his thumbs over your nipples while you come, and encourages you, “That’s it. That’s my good girl,” as you ride your clit over the base of him. And you brace yourself on his chest and feel your key held safe, between your hand and his heart.

As you start to come down, you lean forwards, feeling hazy and fragile. He rolls you carefully beneath his body. You feel malleable and safe and you let your arms fall above your head, yielding to the protection of the strong man between your legs. Din holds you by your wrists and murmurs, “There now. I’ve got you.” His voice is deep and reassuring. He uses his cock slowly to draw out the fading pulses of your orgasm, varying the angle of his hips to make it good for you and reaching down to rock his thumb over your clit until you calm.

He leans in and nuzzles his nose sweetly along yours. Traces it over your cheek and your jaw. Now you can finally see his face, you’re captivated by it. The way his brows are drawn together in pleasured concentration as he rocks into you lazily, savouring the easy clutch of your cunt, all soft and pliant with afterglow.

You reach up to touch his face and his cock swells inside you. He starts driving into you faster, seeking his own orgasm. He finds your mouth, a little clumsily, and when your tongues touch he thrusts hard, off rhythm, as deep as he can reach, and holds himself there and releases inside you, grunting softly with his mouth against yours.

When the tension leaves his body, he relaxes heavily on top of you. After a few breaths he asks, “Am I hurting you?” his voice muffled against your neck.

“No. It’s lovely. Don’t move yet.”

You rest together in the quiet, feeling his breaths gradually slow and lengthen. His hair is soft next to your cheek and you run your fingers through it for a while, pulling gently at the strands, in wonder. “You have curly hair. And a dimple,” you add, incredulous.

He smiles against your skin. “I do.”

“Have I already told you how handsome you are?”

He laughs softly. It makes his body shake on top of you and you feel warm inside.

“Yes.” He kisses your neck, then gingerly pulls out of you and rolls onto his back with a deep, sighing groan.  

You stretch out next to him, happily debauched, naked except for the skirt still bunched up around your thighs. “Look here, I asked you to undress me and you left the job half done. Disgraceful,” you tease.

His eyes are shut and he’s smiling. He keeps them closed as he reaches out one-handed and smoothly unzips your skirt.

You laugh a little, disbelieving. “You weren’t even looking. How did you…”

He rolls his head towards you and opens his eyes. “Let’s just say my line of work requires better than average spacial awareness.”

You shuffle out of your skirt, then sit up to return the favour by tugging his trousers off. “What is your line of work, exactly? Undressing women in the dark?”

“Sadly not.” He gets under the covers and holds them open for you. “Come on. Get in.”

You climb into bed with him and he makes a contented noise and pulls you against his chest.

“Will I see you in the morning?” you whisper.

He brushes his knuckles over your cheek. “Yes.”

Sometimes you wonder if you should find another man. A man who dresses in a three piece suit and always carries an umbrella, even in fine weather. A man who brings you bunches of gladiola and catches the number 74 ‘bus home from the City every night at six o’ clock sharp.

But that’s not who you want. You want the man in your arms. This hard man who turns up at your door, without warning, asking to be let into your bed so he can make himself soft for you.

He’ll leave soon. You know he must. He’ll dress in his armour and strap on his weapons and he’ll leave. But while he’s away, doing deeds he can’t speak of, he’ll carry the key to a bedroom in Gresham House, London. And one day, he’ll come back.

—

Taglist: @frannyzooey @keeper0fthestars @alwaysbethewest @thirstworldproblemss @knittingqueen13 @songsformonkeys @heatherbel @astroboots @pedropascaldice @just-here-for-the-moment @helloannbananalove @over300books @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @kirsteng42 @quica-quica-quica @kyjoraven @raphaelaisabella @the-scandalorian @dontmindifidontt @sarahjkl82-blog; @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @pedrostories @stevie75 @cowboy-turtle @kyjoraven @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @quicksilvermad @cyantomatos @lowlights​ @chronicnosebleed @fanfictastic-pedrito​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @highsviolets​

[sirenreading]

Mobsters Son

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

paring: Biker!Din x Waitress!Oc(black female)

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: cigarettes use, pining, oral sex (female reserving), PIV, unprotected sex.

A/N: this is the first time i’m posting a fic on tumblr (instead of ao3) idk i kinda just wanna post my works on here instead i guess this would be a good start. also sorry for any mistakes!

(credit to gif owner i found it on pinterest)

Din was the son of New York's most scarred Mob Boss, Everybody knew of the Djarins. Din never had a bad grade on a paper, Never got into any trouble with the law, Even when he bent it. He had the easiest life, People were too scared to refuse him. He didn't have to worry about women refusing him either. But not in the creepy way he'd force them if they said no way, They all just wanted a try at the richest man(of their age) in Manhattan. He got whatever he wanted, Until he met Tia.

Tia worked at a local diner over in Brooklyn where she also lived, A nice collage girl, Studying to be director. Her actual dream was to act but she would take any job in the industry.

Din only knew of Tia because he was good friends with her older cousin, Rocky, who he went to high school with, He’d seen her at one of her family's cookout’s a few summers ago when she first graduated high school.

Din pulled up to the diner on his bike, Parking across the street, He rested on the seat of his bike to watch Tia take a couples order, He examined her, Noticing her fresh silk pressed hair, Which she’d just dyed ginger a couple of weeks ago. Said she wanted a change to her appearance, At least that's what Rocky told him she said.

Tia walked back into the diner to retrieve the couples drinks and on her way out noticed Din across the street leaning on his bike, Pulling out a cigarette, She shook her head knowing exactly why he was there and placed the drinks in front of the couple and letting them know their food would be right out, And again drew her attention to Din, Who’s eyes never left her.

She sat her notepad and pen down, Making her way over to Din. He, in response, threw his cig to the ground and stepped it out, He knew she hated it when he smoked. He just needed to grab her attention. As she walked over Din could see her ochre- brown skin, Glissin in the pale moonlight.

“What are you doing here Din, I'm working.”

She said, Standing in front of him, Hand on her hip.

“Well darling, I'm waiting for you to get off so I can take you on our date.”

Din gave her a cheeky smile.

“Date? Din Since when did I agree to go on a date with you?”

“Since right now.”

Tia let out an annoyed sigh and turned to get back to the diner and finish her shift, Which Din knew needed at 9pm every Friday.

Tia finished her shift and made her way outside after clocking out.

“Cmon Tia, Let me at least give you a ride home.”

Tia rolled her eyes before replying.

“Fine, Where are we going on this lil date.”

“Get on and i'll show you”

He winked getting back on the bike starting the engine.

He handed her his helmet and rode off.

They rode off through the city till they got to Din’s penthouse. He parked his bike in the parking garage and helped Tia off, Taking the helmet off as well.

They took the elevator up and the doors opened to reveal Din’s home. His dad bought him this place as a gift after he graduated high school a couple years before Tia. He told him it was his starter home and he’d be able to afford a bigger one once he took his father’s place as the head boss, which he only agreed to because he didn't want his younger brother getting caught up in the business.

“Go make yourself comfortable, I'll be right there.”

Din took his ringing phone from out of his pocket and went into another room.

Tia knew it was most likely his dad with business so she obeyed and took her shoes off sitting on his couch. She reached for the remote and looked for something to watch as Din walked back into the living room.

“Yeah a large pizza, Pepperoni, thank you.”

Hanging up and making his way over to the couch.

“Pizza will be up in 15, What do you want to watch?”

Tia flipped through the TV before landing on ‘Rear Window’.

“Movie nerd.”

Din mocked as he clapped which made the lights in the room turn off, Tia snuggled into Din as the movie started, Din put his arm around her.

After a few minutes of them snuggling and whispering back and forth barely paying attention to the movie, The buzzer on Din’s door went off, The food was here.

Din buzzed the guy out, Taking his wallet out and pulling out a $100 bill.

Once the elevator door opened he grabbed the pizza box and handed the kid who looked no more than 17 the $100 telling him to keep the change.

Tia sat up from her comfortable spot on the sofa as Din brought the pizza over, before walking towards the fridge to grab them both a beer.

“Beer and pizza, how romantic.”

Tia teased.

Din rolled his eyes, taking a bite into the steaming hot pizza using his hand as a plate to catch the crumbs.

Once they’d both finished Din sat back next to Tia on the sofa locking eyes with her as she whipped the tomato sauce off of her mouth.

“What are you staring at Djarin?”

“Just my beautiful woman, that's all.”

“Oh ‘yours’ really?”

Tia smiled from cheek to cheek, Din loved her smile. It was the only way you could see her dimple located on the left side of her face.

Din closed open space in between them by taking her lips in his.

He took her face into his hands and brought her closer before breaking the kiss to throw his t-shirt from over his head.

Tia quickly grabbed his face again, connecting their lips together, Once again.

Din began to remove Tia’s shorts, But she quickly stopped him.

“Can we maybe take this to the bedroom, I don't think we'll have much room out here.”

Referring to the thin couch that was definitely only made for sitting

Din picked her up, Her arms and legs immediately wrapping around his neck and waist.

Din pushed the door of his room open with his hip, And laid Tia flat out on the bed.

Tia began to unbutton her work shirt as Din finished pulling off her shorts leaving her in only underwear.

She reached down to unzip Dins pants before he grabbed her hand with his hand, Holding it so hard you could see his veins.

“I’ll take care of you first, Okay?”

Tia looked up at him through her lashes, Her almost black doe eyes made her look so innocent.

He slowly got down on his knees at the edge of the bed, Kissing up her thick thighs, finally meeting her inner thigh. Tia threw her head back, he barely touched her and still had this effect on her.

Din kissed all the way up her thighs till he made it to the white fabric that protected what he wanted most. He began to slide them down her thighs, Finally leaving her fully exposed to him. He threw her underwear onto his desk. Din hopped on her way out; she would forget it's there and leave him a souvenir.

Din stuck his head back between her warth and began to slowly lick her juices, Gripping her thighs as he pushed forward into her wetness. She tasted amazing, Tia moaned, her eyes rolling behind her back. Din licked up all her wetness till all that was left was his saliva mixed with it.

He began to unzip his pants, dropping them and his underwear down and climbing on top of Tia.

“You don't want me to-”

“Maybe another time baby i just wanna be inside you for now,”

He stroked her cheek before bringing his hand down to line his cock with her entrance.

He tipped the head of his cock into her wet slit, finally pushing into her slowly, letting her adjust to his size first.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head.

“Ugh baby, You're so tight. All nice and wet for me.” He stuck his face into her neck as he slowly stroked into her, wanting to shaver their first time together .

Din finally started picking up his pase resting his forehead on hers, As she rested her hands on his bottom gripping his cheeks; Pushing him farther inside of her.

Dins thrust started to become sloppy signaling he was close.

“Are you about to-”

“Not until you come first.” He said cutting her off.

Tia shook her head, and began to rub herself, hoping to speed up her organism so they could come together. Thankfully it worked, She began to milk around him, gripping his shoulders and back as she felt the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Where should I come baby?” Din tried to slow his strokes down.

“You can come inside me, I'm on the pill.” Tia huffed out, sweat coming down from her forehead to her freshly plucked brow.

Din did as he was told and released inside of her, emptying himself completely before collapsing next to her.

After catching his breath he sat up reaching over onto his desk, grabbing a cigarette, putting it between his lips and lighting it with a table lighter. Tia moved over resting her head on Din’s sweaty chest, she could hear his heart racing.

Tia began to close her eyes, almost drifting, exhausted from work and the workout she just had.

“Nope not yet baby, Let me go run you a bath.” Din said,putting his cig on the ashtray; rushing to the bathroom and running the water in his tub, adding oils and bubbles to relax her.

Once the water had gotten hot enough, He went back into his room and carried her to the tub slowly putting her in making sure not to wet her still fresh but sweat out hair, he knew she’d be pissed.

“I’ll pay for you to get your hair done again baby already? I'll pay for everything you need just ask.” He said, kissing her neck as she relaxed into him.

“i could get used to this.” She smiled.

****

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[june-girl-86]

Chapter 39

While they are traveling in hyperspace there are memories for two of them, which they had forgotten or suppressed for a long time. In addition, an important conversation takes place, which takes a burden off Din. However, it also brings with it a task.

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC Female!

ReaderRating: Mature/Explicit (+18)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence / Love / Action&Adventure / Blood&Violence / Drama & Romance / Slow Burn / Fluff&Smut

The lyrics are from Mark Owen - Child

When the explosion destroyed the Jedi's ship, she was thrown backwards. Ahsoka tried to use her strength to steer against it, but the fight before had weakened her and the shock wave was too strong. Her body crashed against the rock and took away her consciousness. The rain that thought it had defeated the old fire was fought by the new flames, and these helped the old one to flare up again. The smoldering fire that had been slowly coming to an end, gathered under the ground and held back by the humidity, took its chance and developed again into a great conflagration. The plants that had hoped to survive this catastrophe sent messengers to all to warn them before they lost their lives. Animals that had fled and paused, exhausted, thinking it was over, were surrounded by the flames and the screams of the dying echoed in the sky. At a speed as if the fire had gone mad, it raced through the undergrowth without regard, climbing tree trunks and leaping from branch to branch with the help of the wind to destroy even faster everything that lived. Thick, black columns of smoke darkened the sky, not allowing a ray of sunlight to pass through. What the fire had not yet accomplished, the poisoned air did. Those who were able to flee there inhaled the smoke and gradually fell down into the conflagration to be devoured by it.

Many days had passed before Morai saw the ground again. The dark clouds had dissipated, only sporadically smoke rose, at places where the fire still found to feed. Thick and thin tree trunks rose like charred skeletons, but between them actually peaked the first green. The ash was death and fertilizer for new life. Morai landed on the rock and looked at the cocoon of branches and roots. Within it she could sense the Jedi, how it was not conscious but alive. This shell had also been attacked, charred but the neti had saved Ahsoka, giving their lives to protect her. Morai shrieked and jumped onto the hull. But although it looked so fragile after the attack, it was quite sturdy and Morai failed to open the cocoon. Now all she could do was wait and hope Ahsoka recovered and found her way back. The Convor closed his eyes and searched for her.

A little girl sat on her bed, playing with the long yellow ears of her cuddly toy, while behind her sat her mother, gently running the brush through her long brown hair. The girl chatted with her stuffed animal and the woman smiled fondly. It had once belonged to her, given to her at the same age as her daughter, and it looked like that. Worn out and the eyes had been replaced many times with new buttons. She put the brush aside and began braiding the first braid.

"My mom gave me Gunga because I wanted to grow my hair as long as the Gungans' ears were, too. We were still living on Naboo then. And that's where your name comes from. Fara means the lucky one. Because you made us so happy when you came into the world!"

She kissed her daughter on the hair and Fara giggled, but continued to listen to her mother's words.

"I wanted that name so badly for you, from my homeland. And one day we will return to Naboo and we will show you Gunga for real!"

Fara turned and looked at her mother in amazement. She returned her daughter's gaze in amusement and knotted the last braid. Then she stood up and lifted Fara off the bed.

"Come on, let's go. Dad will get impatient if we start so late at the field. I'm sure the other kids are already at Jis's, too!"

Fara wanted to take Gunga, but her mother took him from her.

"Why don't you leave him here? You'll see him again in a few hours! And Jis has lots of toys, too."

Fara put Gunga next to her pillow, grabbed her mother's hand and followed. She took one last look at her room, unaware that hours had turned into years.

Fara carefully stroked Gunga's frayed ear and looked from her hiding place to Liara, who was standing at the kitchen counter preparing the food. A tear ran down her cheek; she had forgotten her mama. She had experienced so much bad, Boyk did not mean well with her. And then these two people came and helped her. When the man in the silver armor brought her gunga, it had loosened something in her. She was no longer trash, as Boyk had always said. She felt the good of them. Fara eyed Gunga again, whose button eye, the one he still had, dangled halfway down his face and was about to fall off as well. There was as much dirt on the cloth as on her. Even the rain had done nothing and the mud of the streets of Gelgelar had probably penetrated her skin to stick to her forever. Fara had always been dirty, not allowed to wash once inside the house. Fara swallowed, not wanting to remember the times when she was not on the streets, but in the Trandoshans' shelter. Locked in a cage, like an animal. She shook her head, trying to forget. She watched Liara, who shook her head slightly and grimaced as she cut an onion. Her mama had always done that, too, laughing even though she was crying.

Fara hugged Gunga to her.

"We're safe!" she whispered to her snuggles. Then she stood up and plodded over to Liara. She looked down questioningly as she felt a tentative tug on her pant leg. Brown children's eyes, the facial expression wavering between courage and a little fear, looked towards her. Liara set the knife aside.

"Hey, do you need something?"

The little one nodded shyly and held the cuddly toy out to her.

"Gunga is dirty!"

Liara turned off the stove top and squatted in front of her.

"Do you want me to wash him for you? Maybe I'll have a button so he can see properly again!"

The girl nodded and she followed Liara into the refresher. As she ran water into the basin, Liara heard whispering and being touched again on her leg. She leaned over to Fara, who timidly pointed to the shower.

"Do you want to get in the shower by yourself or do you want me to help you?"

Fara reached for Liara's hand and nodded.

After making sure Gunga was okay in the sink, Liara helped the little one undress. There wasn't much there anyway, except for the t-shirt, which was more made of holes, and the torn pants. Liara gulped as she noticed the stains on her skin that weren't from the dirt. She placed a small basket in front of her with several shower gels and shampoos inside.

"You get to pick one. They all smell different!"

Fara eyed the colorful bottles, opening one by one and sniffing curiously. She was taken with the melon scent and held it out to Liara.

"Good choice, I like that a lot too!" smiled Liara. At first the child was still trembling, but then she enjoyed the warm water and also let Liara help wash her hair, which was all matted. Gently, so as not to hurt her, she stroked her fingers through it to loosen the hair again. When they were done, Liara grabbed a towel and gently rubbed them dry. When she turned on the hair dryer, the little one backed away, startled. Liara turned it off again and raised her hands.

"Everything is fine. I just want to dry your hair!"

Fara looked at her skeptically. Liara handed her the hair dryer and she eyed it for a while, then tried the various switches. She giggled as she blew the warm wind into her face. Then she held it out to Liara again and she blew her hair dry. As she did so, Liara noticed the fresh scars on her back. When they were done, she put the blow dryer aside and gently touched Fara in places. The girl flinched and moved forward.

"Sorry. Let me put some ointment on it and it will get better!"

The little one nodded and slowly relaxed as Liara gently dabbed the Bacta on the affected areas. Liara was about to clean up the tube again when the child's hand touched her on the arm and pointed to her forehead. Liara nodded and let Fara apply the cream. The little one took it very seriously, pressed her lips together and was concentrated on the job so as not to hurt Liara. When she was done, she smiled at Liara.

"Everything is fine!" she murmured to Liara. She hugged the girl gratefully, feeling again how thin she was. As they broke away from each other, she noticed the look she gave her old clothes.

"You don't need to wear those anymore. Wait a minute!"

Liara hurried into the bedroom and picked out a T-shirt of hers. As she held it in her hands, she faltered and closed her eyes. That too-slim body, how vulnerable she had been in the shower. Liara sighed, then she didn't make the little one wait any longer and brought her the garment. The shirt was still too big for her, but she beamed when she had it on. She surprised Liara, who was still squatting in front of her, with another hug that was so tumultuous that Liara had to brace herself against the wall to keep from toppling backwards.

"Thank you!" whispered Fara. Liara gently ran her hand over her hair and then very quietly heard the child's name, which she now whispered in her ear.

Din heard the footsteps on the ladder rungs as Liara came into the cockpit.

"Fara is sleeping now!" she said, and he heard the tremor in her voice.

"Fara?"

He turned the chair around to face her and looked at her questioningly. Din noticed her struggling with tears. Liara sank down on the bench and told him what had happened.

"It took quite a toll on her, and now she's lying in the pillow and blanket mountain in her room..."

Liara swallowed.

"Din, her whole body is full of scars, little burns... She's had way too much bad stuff happen to her in her young years!"

Liara shook her head, trying to get the image out of her mind, and Din indicated that she should come to him. She jumped up and let him pull her into his arms. Tears started to fall, Liara couldn't stop them.

"If I hadn't already killed Boyk, I'd turn around right now and inflict so much pain on him with my bare hands that he'd beg for me to redeem him....," Din growled angrily. Liara lifted her head from his chest and ran it over her wet cheeks.

"Is there any way on our route to land on a safe planet. We need to get Fara clothes and shoes, I gave her a shirt and knotted a pair of underpants together, she can't possibly put back on what she was wearing. Also for her room, she needs a real bed!"

Din nodded.

"I'll check it out where we can land!"

Liara kissed him gratefully on the cheek and leaned against him again. Din stroked Liara's back soothingly as they stared into hyperspace, pursuing their thoughts, when a steady beep announced a video transmission. Liara rose and rubbed at her teary eyes before Din answered the video call. Karga appeared and greeted them both.

"I wanted to inquire if you guys got the information?"

Din confirmed it and also told Karga about Fara. You could clearly see the surprise and horror in his features before he clapped his hands and congratulated them on the good deed.

"Well I have some news for you. I thought if I quenched my curiosity around your condition, I might as well pass it on to you!"

Din looked to Liara, who shrugged her shoulders, just as curious about what was to come next.

"It has been reported that Moff Gideon has been found dead in his cell!"

Din and Liara looked at each other in surprise, hardly able to believe it.

"Excuse me? Is that really certain?"

Din was the first to regain his speech.

"Dead certain. Probably because his son isn't alive either!" added Karga.

"Ahsoka!" groaned Liara.

"That must have been her doing! Did she arrive on Nevarro?" she asked excitedly.

Karga shook her head.

"No. A Mandalorian woman, Koska, came by for that. She told us of Duncan's passing and that Bo-Katan wants to compete against you for the saber!"

Din sighed in annoyance and rubbed his temples.

"That woman is driving me crazy. She really doesn't give up. Did Koska say anything about Ahsoka? I asked her to come to Nevarro..."

"No. But there was a messy scene between Cara and Koska instead. She tried to go after the Mandalorian and called her a traitor. She disappeared as quickly as she had come... But someone else wants to talk to you about that subject. Have a good trip!"

Karga disappeared and the next moment, a stranger with blue eyes looked at her. Liara guessed who she was, however, she had similar features to her sister on Bora-Borosa.

"Face to face now then, Din Djarin!" she said, her voice sounding as it once did in her forge. Din swallowed as he looked into her eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Our code was meant to protect us, or so I was taught. Not to bare one's face to anyone would be the only right thing to do. It even went so far back then that even spouses didn't show themselves to each other or parents didn't show themselves to their children. This loosened over time, but even the rules were still too much for some. My sister could not stand this and left the tribe. I never really understood until we were attacked... The founders of the Children of the Watch were wrong, we did a lot wrong with this false teaching. I heard from Cara what you took upon yourself to save the boy and your reproaches for that. I take that burden off your shoulders, you did the right thing! I'm sorry for all the anguish in your heart over this!"

Din swallowed moved, nodded to her gratefully, it was still working in him, even if he tried to suppress it. That statement of hers, he actually noticed the relief spreading in his heart.

"We should focus on the real thing, the most important foundation of our culture!"

Sona closed her eyes and quoted what she had been taught as a child.

"Ba'jur bal beskar'gam; Ara'nov, aliit; Mando'a bal Mand'alor - An vencuyam mhi. (Training and armor; Self-defense, our tribe; Our language and our leader - Help us survive.)!"

"Resol'Nare!" whispered Din excitedly. Then he repeated them in awe as well. The 6 actions, the Mandalorian philosophy of life. Liara had read about it in the book she had found in the Calodan library. She could see and feel the change in Din's attitude, the reverence for his culture. It wasn't just wearing armor and possessing weapons, but much more. She got goosebumps and was fascinated that she was allowed to witness this actually almost intimate moment. The two Mandalorians were silent for a while until Sona broke the silence.

"You must be on your guard, Bo-Katan is over dead bodies. She has the goal of being ruler of Mandalore. All this with Cara or our imprisonment, was from her. Duncan was just a puppet of hers, he just didn't realize it!"

Dejectedly, she looked at Din.

"Tell the head of the Djarin clan that I beg his forgiveness! It..."

She broke off, you could see her struggling with herself. Din nodded obligingly.

"I've been following your conversation with Karga, and a planet on your route tells me something. When I got to Morak, everyone had moved on with Cam Arran. He was going to Tazar, to the city of Deia. He was born in the city and planned to build something new there with the survivors of the tribe. Paz told me about it only after Bo-Katan and her henchmen had left us, so as not to spill the beans. Would you mind looking for them?"

Liara looked at Din, but he didn't hesitate for long.

"Of course I'm looking for my brothers and their families. I have hope that when I find my family too, that we can live together!"

Sona smiled with satisfaction and nodded.

"Is there a clue where I can find him?", Din wanted to know.

"In the dark, use your night vision. The tracks will lead you!"

Sona looked Din firmly in the eye.

"We've already lost a lot, and now it's time for the Mandalorians to stick together. If you call for us, we will follow you, Mand'alor!"

She lowered her head, showing Din that she accepted him as leader. Liara noticed Din's shoulders shrug, how unfamiliar it was for him to be addressed so openly as leader of Mandalor. And yet, he nodded and said goodbye to the blacksmith. After the call ended, he took a deep breath and turned to Liara.

"Now we have a plan. Find the tribe and get the things for Fara!"

Din had set up a folding table in front of the weapons cabinet and was cleaning his blaster on it. Neatly disassembled, the weapon was waiting to be reassembled soon. While he cleaned it and began to put it back together, he was lost in thought. Thought about the conversation with Sona. His gaze went to the dark saber that lay in the weapons cabinet. Would he be a good leader? At least she believed him to be. A few years ago he would never have thought of such a thing, he had always been the lone wolf and now he had a steady partner, a woman at his side whom he loved more than anything and after Grogu now his second foundling, who also had not had an easy start in life. How would it be when Fara and maybe Grogu, should he decide to live together in their clan someday, with his biological children? He had hardly given that a thought in the past either. Although he had also taken care of the foundlings, they had been taken in by the couples and he had been far too busy with the bounty hunting. But since those dreams that Liara had also had, something had sprouted in him. He wanted a family. Din blinked, seeing in his mind Liara, pregnant, happy, beautiful. He swallowed, hoping that these dreams could soon become reality. But still Bo-Katan stood between all this. Frustrated, he put his assembled blaster back in the cabinet, quietly folded up the table and locked the door. He wondered what to do now, he was too jittery to go to sleep. Liara was already asleep, as was Fara. Din had noticed the bruises and scars on her feet and it horrified him how the child had been treated. The girl had been so happy at dinner when she could hold her clean and again two-eyed Gunga in her arms. She hadn't spoken much, but had eaten a lot, and afterwards one had watched her eyes grow smaller and smaller.

A noise made him sit up and take notice, a whimper entered his ears. He walked toward the nursery, and the door opened, and Fara stumbled out. She clutched Gunga and sniffled.

"Fara?"

Din crouched down in front of her and the girl looked at him with eyes wet with tears. Then she pressed herself against him. Din was glad that he had changed after the meal and so no armor prevented her from feeling warmth instead of cold. Carefully, he ran his hand over her head, stroking the tousled hair after her fitful sleep.

"You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you!", Din reassured her, feeling the child's body shake from the sobs.

"Bad dreams!" she whispered at one point.

"Boyk?" asked Din, and she nodded.

"He'll never be able to hurt you again, and neither will his friends. Liara and I will take care of you!"

Fara sniffled and looked at him from her reddened eyes. Din took out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her to blow her nose.

"Thank you!" she whispered, and her body shook as a final sob made itself known once again.

"Do you want to sit in the pilot's chair in the cockpit?" asked Din, trying to distract her a little.

Fara looked at him with wide eyes, nodded and jumped up. Before he could ask her if he should help her, she had already climbed up the ladder. Amused, he followed her and found her standing in the cockpit with her mouth open. Here she could see the light and the tunnel of hyperspace even better than from her window. Din sat down and lifted her onto his lap so she could see the instruments better. He explained a few things to her and showed her the navigation where a dot, which they were, was moving steadily. He could feel her getting tired but fighting it, probably because of the nightmares.

"I miss my mom!"

Fara's voice was quite soft, he could hear the tiredness, but also the pain.

Din sighed and soothingly ran his hand over her back.

"Me too!" he murmured, and the girl gave him a questioning look.

"I was a few years older than you when I was rescued by the Mandalorians when my home was attacked. My parents didn't survive it, unfortunately. And I couldn't remember them for a long time, but some time ago I had an encounter and since then a lot of things come back to me. How she scolded me when I did stupid things. But when I was not well, my mother and father, were both there for me. I also had bad dreams and then my mom would sing me a song! Do you want me to try it?" Fara nodded curiously and leaned her head against him. Din closed his eyes and remembered the lyrics. Then he sang the song and in his mind he heard his mother's voice as she held him lovingly.

“Sleep peacefully now, my child

I hope that you go away

To a place where your dreams can play

Wipe all the tears from your eyes

There is a sky of blue

This is your time of truth”

He remembered how often she had laid down with him without singing, but just feeling her closeness had calmed him and knowing that he was not alone, he had fallen asleep.

“Like a bird high on the wind

May you fly away

Like a snowfall in the spring

May you cares melt away

Child, innocent child

Our hope lies inside

Your starry eyes

My innocent child“

Thought of the moments when he was sick, she had worried about him. His father also sat down with him and encouraged him that he would soon be well again. Her warm soup, the tea that smelled so intensely of mint and he was sure she had stirred medicine into it. Din swallowed as these memories came flooding back to him.

“Hero, now that you are free

You have no need to fear

So go out and find your smile

Like a candle in the stream

May you float away

Like a feather on the breeze

May you blow away”

He thought of the touch of the kiss on his forehead when she tucked him in, he had fallen asleep without a care and peacefully.

When Din had sung the last words, he looked down at the sleeping child. A single tear had tried to travel, had lingered on her cheek, and he gently brushed it away. Din thought of the necklace with his parents' fingerprints and smiled wistfully. Fara sighed softly and Din decided to wait a little longer before taking her back to her bed so as not to pull her from her sleep again.

Liara woke up, she was slightly cold and when she turned to Din she noticed that his side was empty. She knew he still wanted to clean his weapons when she went to bed, but when she looked at the clock, several hours had passed since then, and that shouldn't really stop him for that long. Liara put on her vest, left the bedroom and saw the locked weapons cabinet. Instead, Fara's door was open. Taking a look inside, she was not here either. Liara guessed where the two might be and climbed into the cockpit. When she discovered the scenery, she paused and this image burned itself into her heart. Quietly, she climbed the rest of the ladder and sat down on the bench. Din held Fara in his arms, the girl lay snuggled close to him with Gunga against his chest. Both were sound asleep. Liara retrieved a blanket from one of the drawers in the cockpit and gently laid it over them both. She breathed a gentle kiss on Din's unshaven cheek and let them both continue to sleep. Smiling and with a lot of warmth in her chest, she climbed back down and got back into bed as well.

@rain-on-kamino

[whirlybirbs]

                ✶   —   MY STAR WARS MASTERLIST   —   ✶

here’s my updated version of this star wars masterlist, up to date as of 1.8.20, containing links to mastertags, ao3 stories, and status information. before sending in an ask about any of these fics, please read my FAQ page! 

my blog structure relies heavily on tags -- if you’re looking for certain content, i highly recommend using the search feature if you’re on mobile. or, take a peek at this if you’re using desktop. it will help you navigate my blog easier and also be able to look through the tags i’ve sorted fics into! you can also you the tag page on my navigation. 

in my mastertags, you’ll find misc. drabble, headcanons, mobile content, and smaller works of writing not listed on this post. make sure to check them out!

POE DAMERON X READER   ---   ;

✶   PRE-FLIGHT CHECK: you’re black squadron’s new flight lieutenant. you and poe dameron do not get along. ON HAITUS!  ✶   POST-FLIGHT DEBRIEF: collection of drabbles following pre-flight check, surrounding poe dameron and the reader’s growing relationship. ON HAITUS! ✶   GOOD MORNING: a nsfw oneshot about waking up next to poe dameron. ✶   NSFW HEADCANONS: general dirty thoughts about poe. ✶   MASTERTAG: here you will find all poe dameron x reader drabbles i’ve published on this blog to date. 

BEN SOLO X READER   ---   ;

✶   HOLLOWED OUT: ben solo was once a jedi knight you served you. now, he’s more than a shell of himself. TO BE UPDATED. ✶   BEGIN AGAIN: a TROS!au where you’re a part of the first class of jedi trained under ben solo and rey of jakku. UPDATED 12.24, TO BE UPDATED. ✶   NSFW HEADCANONS: misc. saucy stuff about kyle ron ✶   MASTERTAG: here you will find all ben solo/kylo stuff i’ve published on this blog.

ARMITAGE HUX X READER   ---   ;

✶   HOLIEST: you’re the betrothed of general hux. pre-TFA, mild au. ON HAITUS! ✶   NSFW HEADCANONS: general dirty things about huxxy boy. ✶   MASTERTAG: here’s all the misc. hux stuff i’ve published.

REY X READER   ---   ;

✶   LIKE HOME: a small lil wlw drabble about rey & female reader. ✶   NSFW HEADCANONS: you know what it is ;) ✶   MASTERTAG: i haven’t written much for rey, but watch this tag for other drabbles.

DIN DJARIN X READER   ---   ;

✶   OYA’KARIR: you’re a rebellion war hero. you’ve got a bounty on your head. the mandalorian lets you get away. ON HAITUS! ✶   CYAR’IKA: you and din have a complicated relationship. intimacy is difficult when one of you swears not to open your eyes. posted before we actually knew how to spell the space dad’s name. ONE, TWO, THREE.  /  ON HAITUS! ✶   MASTERTAG: here’s where other drabbles will be!

OBI-WAN KENOBI X READER   ---   ;

✶   DINNER & DESSERT: senator!reader & obi-wan let off some much needed steam. nsfw. pure porn. ✶  BONE-PICKED TEETH: my sith!obi-wan au, ft. evil senator!reader set in the midst of the clones wars and a rather dicey political climate. UPDATED 1.6, TO BE UPDATED.  ✶  SUMMER SUN: a lil blurb about padawan!obi and handmaiden!reader. ✶  NSFW HEADCANONS: you know the drill! ✶   MASTERTAG: home of the obi content!

COMMANDER NYX (RC-1313) X READER  ---   ;

✶   BROKEN ORDERS: an introduction to commander nyx, an original clone trooper character, and his jedi!reader. set in the clone wars. LAST UPDATED 1.5, TO BE UPDATED. ✶  NYX’S MASTERTAG: all nyx, all day. learn about the grumpy clone commander & fall in love. self indulgent oc tag. ✶ TALON SQUADRON MASTERTAG: read about talon squadron, the 111th, and nyx’s squadmates: lucky, spades, shade, hauler, smokeshow, fennec, jockey, and grim.  

                                                     —   ✶   ---

[nerdieforpedro]

I loved the set up and that Paz’s wife basically got arranged looking for spices 🤣 Like ma’am?! Pfft! But I’m curious what Amiyra home world was lost and how it was lost…and she supporting the two little children. 😭

But Softie, for real…

How are you going to build up the story like that and then have Din give Amiyra the healing massage of a life time and promise to take care of her while calling her sweet girl and… 👀 a soft but firm command. 🫣 Gah!!! Softie!! ❤️❤️❤️

Scattered Promises

chapter 1 

my first mando fic. i hope you all like it.  no minors, don’t interact with me. 

AFAB OC // wc: 5k // Summery: “My name is Din, he whispered lowly in her face , and if I made a promise to never leave your side, I intend to keep it.” masterlist // Ch.2 //

Keep reading

[punkrock-writer]

Space Cowboy- Part 1

Having a Very Bad Time at Disney World

Pairing- Din Djarin x F!OC

Warnings- Swearing. A lot of bad words. Mild Violence. 

A/N- The response to this fic is overwhelming I woke up and wanted to cry, thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged and followed me. And thank you to everyone who went to AO3 and left kudos and comments ily. This introduces my OC Sedona. She's a little rough around the edges but I hope you like her. Feel free to message me or comment if you like it or hate it, I like talking to people. Thank you again. 

Prologue AO3 Wattpad 

The musty, thick, Florida humidity did little to stop her body from practically vibrating as she gazed up at the sight before her. The grand entrance to Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge stood proudly, casting an arch shaped shadow that she stepped into to get a better look. Faux sandstone and waving flags beckoned her into the park, and she gladly followed with a face splitting smile. She had been saving for this trip for what felt like a life time; overtime had finally payed off, and she couldn't wait to spend an entire week in "the happiest place on earth"...

Or so she thought.

Sedona smiled as the butterflies fluttered in her stomach, gazing up at the Millennium Falcon was like a dream. The ship was massive, and fit snugly within the surrounding attraction. She wouldn't consider her self a 'super fan'- she doesn't know the names of the planets in a galaxy far far away, and she definitely couldn't name all of the different space races- but the beauty of the universe awakened the child that was buried deep in her soul. Nostalgia and adult money were a deadly combination.

It didn't help that the casting department knew how to cast the perfect eye candy to keep a grown woman entertained.

She dragged herself away from the massive ship. Though she told her self she wasn't obsessed, she still unconsciously decided to carve an entire day out of a week long trip just to roam around Batuu. She took as deep a breath as she could of the hot air, just beginning to get used to the uncomfortable way her hair curled and clung to the sweat on her neck. The air smelled like an amusement park, little kids vomit, sweat, and caramel corn. She walked leisurely, her sandals dragging on the pavement as she passed stalls and a makeshift cantina, making her way under another gigantic arch. Voices and music filled her ears, she let her guard down, allowing herself to completely absorb the atmosphere.

If she hadn't been gazing up at the architecture of the buildings surrounding her, she would've been able to react quicker.

An insanely bright blue light flashed in her face followed by a high pitched whine, similar to your grandpas weird old camera.

Startled she took quick steps back, her vision foggy as she struggled to clear the blotches that stayed behind when the light went away. But when she can see the sight before her fills her with confusion and anger.

"What the hell is this Men in Black Comic-Con, who are you?" Holding her tongue had never been her strong-suit.

There was a tall, old, white man in a black suit and sunglasses. Typing something into an iPad, not paying any mind to the girl he just attempted to blind. She made the move to step toward him when his head moved away from her, looking upwards and to the left.

"So this is the one" he wasn't even looking at anyone, and then she noticed the tiny bluetooth device in his ear. Her brow furrowed deeper, her mouth set in a frown. Her hand lifted and mouth opened simultaneously but before she could yell at him further, an object was thrust in her outstretched hand.

That's when her head split open.

Her empty hand instantly flew to her forehead, eyes squinting shut as she tried to control her breathing. It literally felt like her skull was cracking down the middle, lights danced underneath her eyelids, she curled into herself in the middle of the Disney World street.

"Mother fuck" she spat out the words, cracking one eye open to look for the man, but he had disappeared. Leaving her with a migraine and gadget that looked like the worst dildo in the world.

The growl that ripped through her throat was inhuman. One hand still covered her left eye as she charged in the direction she thought the man could've gone. Most likely looking like the angriest bitch in the entire park. Her fist clenched around the metal piece that was in her right hand, swinging it as her flip flops smacked against the cement. She didn't know where the hell he went but she was going to find the prick an-

"Miss are you okay?" A timid female voice flitted from her left side. She spun quickly, another wave of pain crashed over her, she couldn't fathom how she looked right now to the poor mother and her young child. A fist covering her left eye as her face contorted into a snarl, her other hand clutching some kind of metal object. Her chest heaving and leaning awkwardly into her left side.

"I'm fine" she grumbled, before marching further on her war path. She missed the way the mother quickly bundled the child into her arms, rushing into the opposite direction as quick as she could.

━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━

Sedona attempted her murderous trek for as long as she could. Searching the park for the mysterious business man who had fucked with her relaxing vacation. But sooner than she would've liked the pain overwhelmed her. Begrudgingly she boarded a Disney bus and made her way back to her hotel room. The device had been tossed into her purse, not wanting to get rid of it, so she could beat the man with it when she found him.

Yet another shuddering wave of pain ripped through her as she flung open the door to her room. Quickly shutting and locking it behind her, the first thing she did was pull her hair from its ponytail. Her hair, damp and curly from sweat hung to her shoulders, she ran both hand through it, taking a deep breath of the air conditioning. The next to go was her purse, which she unceremoniously flung onto the bed as she stomped forward. Her flip flops were kicked off at the end of her bed. Peeling the sage green sundress off her sweaty body, she rifled through her suitcase.

Nothing good ever happens when I wear a fucking dress.

Satisfied with her choice of pajamas she shuffled into the bathroom. Pausing for a moment to glare into the mirror. Taking in the mess of a girl who couldn't even keep her eyes all the way open. She pivoted to the shower, praying the cold water would do some kind of good for the aggressive pounding behind her eyes.

She stayed in the shower till she was shivering. The headache only diminishing slightly, and the gaudy scent of the hotel toiletries didn't really help. Grappling two thin towels from the rack above the toilet she rolled her hair into one atop her head, the other she quickly dried herself off. She didn't really want to spend much longer in the dampness, wanting a nap much more.

Her pajama choice was simple, a men's 3XL Big and Tall black T-shirt, and a pair of Mandalorian printed MeUndies. No, no, she definitely wasn't a super fan. She exited the bathroom, bee-lining for her massive suitcase that was perched on the bed. Plopping down she hauled it into her lap, searching through the many pockets for the one containing her emergency first aid kit, and she sighed in relief when she finally found the bottle of Advil. As she unscrewed the top she glanced at her purse, a strange blue light emitted from within it.

She reached over her suitcase, grabbing her purse and setting it into the bag on her lap. She couldn't help the eye roll as she pulled the device from the depths. It was a simple looking thing. A long pill shape, with an indented seam running the entire edge, and one small thumb-print size button in the middle. The button pulsated it's annoying blue light slowly, beckoning someone to press it.

"I don't have the energy for this shit" she grumbled. Maybe it was the headache making her loopy, but she placed her thumb over the indentation, without much of a hesitation.

And of course it started to vibrate.

She would've laughed if the vibration wasn't followed by the entire outer seam of the device growing brighter with the same blue light.

"Travel begins in 5 seconds. Please gather all items needed for travel"

Sedona's eyes grew wide as her brow furrowed in confusion. The mechanical voice didn't give her much time to think.

This can't be real.

4

Panic rose in her throat, her eyes searched the device, flipping it in her hands as it began to grow brighter and brighter.

3

On instinct she gathered both of her bags closer to her chest. The massive suitcase not really yielding much.

2

Her breathing grew quicker, matching the aggressive buzzing of the device in her hand.

1

"Fucki-"

And suddenly she is falling. Rapid descent lifts the towel from her head, and she can feel wind rushing past her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still tell that she was falling through and insanely bright blue tunnel. Faster and faster until.

BANG

Her knees are folded underneath her, taking the entire collective weight of her body and both of her bags that fall on top of her. She swears she hears a pop, and can feel a burning pain rip up her knees to the top her thighs.

She deeply inhales, slamming her hands onto whatever metal floor is in front of her.

"MOTHER FUCKER"

[alpineglowx]

I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Five: Nightmares

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none

* * * *

“I respect your boundaries, your rights as a bounty hunter. But I need you to know that I’m in this for the long haul, whatever it takes. You can kick me off right now but I want to let you know that I’m not leaving without having said my peace. I love that kid, and I care about you too. I know we have a lot to go through, but I’m willing to do this. I don’t know what it all entails, bringing the kid to his own people, having him choose his own path, but I at least want to try. Because I didn’t give enough of a fight last time something like this happened, and I’m not going to do it again.”

The Mandalorian eyed her for the longest time, Grogu’s dark eyes staring back at her as well. She waited, taking a deep breath until he finally said,

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“I know,” Thell admitted.

“I’m a Mandalorian. You know I can handle this task myself.”

Thell threw her hands up defensively. “I’m... I’m not saying all of this just because I don’t think you could do it, in fact... you’re probably one of the best qualified people in the galaxy to do it.”

“Then why offer to help?”

Thell hung her head, debating her answer as she eyed the skyline of Coruscant just beyond the Razor Crest.

“I...I know it sounds kind of selfish, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t know anyone else, Mando. And even though the circumstances have been... strange, to say the least, I've enjoyed my time. And I'm not totally useless... I did save his life once or twice, if I remember correctly.”

Thell risked a glance at him, tentatively, until she looked at the kid again.

“I could still help with whatever you need, and I promise I won't get in your way. I mean, you’ve probably needed help before, right?... I'll stay out of your business. And when this is all over, I'll find my own way. I promise.”

A long pause. “It won’t be easy, Thell.”

She set her shoulders. “I know the risks. But I’m alone right now. My parents, my home, everything I’ve ever known is gone. I don’t have somewhere to call my own. So what do I have to lose?”

“You know you could risk getting a bounty placed on your head, too?”

Thell nodded. “I’m aware. But... he’s more important to me than any of that.”

She let her gaze linger on Grogu, held tightly in the Mandalorian’s arms. Reaching one arm out, she delicately let her hand rest on his head, rubbing his ear with her thumb. He murmured happily, wrapping one small hand around her thumb.

“Okay.”

Thell’s eyes drifted back to the Mandalorian’s helmet, to the V slit, and she could feel her heart beat a little faster. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I promise I won’t bother you incessantly, or ask a million questions. I know you don’t like that.”

“You know how to shoot?”

“Uh,” Thell stuttered. “Not particularly.”

“You’ll have to learn if you want to stay.” As the Mandalorian spoke, Thell could feel her heart rise with joy. “And look after the kid. I’ll show you how to pilot the Razor Crest too just in case of any emergencies.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not easy work. This life... It’s not easy.”

Thell smiled, just a small, crooked smirk in his direction. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Because when he clapped her playfully on the shoulder, and the baby cooed in joy, Thell could only feel more at home than she had ever been.

They started slow, gathering some remaining supplies on Coruscant and flying off into hyperspace for another time. The Mandalorian was still quiet, no more talkative than he had been when she was only supposed to stay with them for a month. That had passed now, and while he had opened up to her some, he was still quiet.

She wondered how long this journey would take them. Mando seemed desperately attached to the kid, as much as he would probably deny it if she really asked, so she knew this trip wouldn't be an easy one. It hasn't been easy so far. Thell had nearly died trying to get Grogu back to safety that one night in the woods.

But for once, as she lay down to sleep, the steel surroundings of the Razor Crest were warm. She could memorize every crate, indent in the steel, and labeled supply box until she fell asleep. She had no idea how long she would be with the two of them, but for now, she didn’t have to worry about it. While it had taken some persuading and practically begging on her end, Mando had let her stay with them. And while he wasn’t the easiest person to be her true self in front of, she was figuring that out too. Who was she when she was no longer a servant, but a person all her own?

The first night with her strange new family, Thell woke with a start. Sweat streaked down her face and neck and she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The cargo hold was silent around her except for the constant humming of the Razor Crest. They had stopped in the atmosphere of an uninhabited planet, safe for the moment to sleep for the night.

The hammock bed that Mando had swung up for her rocked as she rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision. She could hear the baby snoring softly in the sleeping chamber across from her, and debated throwing her blanket back over her shoulders to fall asleep again. But something like fear was gnawing at her, so Thell swung her legs over the side, carefully maneuvering to slide back down to the floor and grab her cloak. The door to the sleeping chamber was cracked, and she peeked inside out of pure curiosity; but the bed was empty, and she couldn’t see the Mandalorian in the cargo hold. She made her way up quietly to the cockpit to find the Mandalorian lounging in the pilot’s seat.

At her entry, he made no remark, so Thell quietly sat herself down in the adjacent seat, leaning her head back to rest comfortably. She could see Mando from the corner of her eye, his gaze fixed on the stars outside. The silence was comfortable, so Thell relaxed against the seat, letting her eyes follow the trail of stars outside.

“Are you okay?”

At his sudden question, Thell nearly jumped.

“Uh, yeah...,” Thell muttered. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond for a long moment, and when he did, his voice was low.

“You seem shaken.”

Thell squirmed in her seat. “I... think I had a nightmare. When I used to have them back home, I would go to a place where I could see the stars. It calmed me down...” she explained, then whispered under her breath, still does.”

Her eyes wandered, pinpointing constellations and planets. A month had gone by and she still wasn’t used to sitting in the vastness of space, with the stars and planets just at her fingertips.

“That’s Mon Cala... I think,” she said, pointing to a bluish dot in the distance. “And D’Qar’s over there. Naboo should be right there next to it.”

She could hear the Mandalorian huff through his helmet. “You know you’re stuff.”

Thell couldn’t help but smile, mildly proud of herself. “My mom used to teach me the star systems every night when I was kid... Not sure why, but it helped distract me from everything else. Guess it can come in handy now.”

Thell’s words drifted off, until she set her eyes on Mando again, genuinely curious. The glow from space littered onto his helmet, showering the Beskar in starlight.

“Don’t take this the wrong way... but how long has it been since you took it off?”

“Last night,” he responded quickly, almost comically.

“I...,” Thell started. “I mean... Since someone saw your face.”

The Mandalorian crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing against the seat. Thell wondered if she had stepped over a boundary of his until he spoke again.

“I was young. No one has seen my face since I swore the Creed.”

“And the Creed... it’s like your code? Your way of life?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Thell murmured, and sank back against her seat. Whatever dreams or wishes she had of ever seeing his face might as well be crushed.

“What color is your hair?” He slowly turned her direction, until Thell had to throw her hands up. “What? You get to see my face all the time.”

“It’s brown.”

. . . .

“Hold it here, on the grip. And make sure that the safety is off before you shoot.”

“The safety?”

“Right here. It doesn’t let you fire if it’s on.”

Thell’s eyes widened. “Oh. Okay.”

The Mandalorian passed the small black blaster to her, to which she hesitantly wrapped her fingers around the grip.

“Hold it even with your shoulder, one hand to stabilize yourself.”

Thell did as he had instructed, carefully pointing the blaster to a target he had set up several yards away. They had landed on a small desert planet just outside a small neighboring village. The air was more dry and warm here than Thell had ever experienced, and she was constantly wiping sweat away from her eyes.

She shook droplets from her forehead against before readjusting her arm, pointing the blaster towards the target. The last time she had held a blaster was the night she had first met him, the one the guard had forced into her hands.

He had killed that guard, and it suddenly rocked her.

Slowly, she set her arms down, letting them rest at her sides. The Mandalorian was quiet, but Thell could sense he was waiting for her to shoot. After a moment, he asked,

“What’s wrong?”

Thell couldn’t make eye contact with him; she could only see the blaster being shoved into her hands, all over again.

“I... I can’t do this right now,” she said, starting to stumble back. “I need a break.”

As she turned to leave, she felt the Mandalorian’s iron grip on her wrist, keeping her close.

“Thell,” he said, gazing down at her. “What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, she gently placed the blaster in his empty hand and pulled out of his grip, turning her back to him.

Taking a deep breath, she answered, “The last time I held a blaster was the night you took Darand. It was given to me from a guard you killed.”

When all the Mandalorian did was stay quiet, Thell said, in a rather low tone, “There was blood on the blaster. His blaster. It was the one I was defending myself with... but why? Why am I using one now if just to do the same thing?”

“Because you chose this.”

“But I... I can’t kill someone. Having that weapon in my hands... it felt like too much power. It was too much power.”

“Sometimes we can’t make those calls.”

Thell turned, slowly, peered at him from the corner of her eye. “What do you mean?”

“... Sometimes the moment comes too quick, and we’re forced to make a decision: we choose to live, or we die. You would protect the kid, wouldn’t you? Protect yourself?”

“Yes... but I... At what cost?”

“You can’t ask yourself those questions when you're forced in the moment. But you can decide right now whether or not the kid is that important to you.”

Thell could feel tears in her eyes; she knew she had to make the decision, but somehow, it was pressing against her harder than she had imagined. This was all part of becoming her new self, her identity as a new person. She knew she didn’t want to be a killer, she never would be.

But if it meant protecting herself, the kid, and even Mando himself, she would do it.

But she could only nod, blinking away tears.

“Then you know why I’m giving you this.” When he passed her the blaster again, Thell took it with trembling hands.Without Mando having to instruct her, she raised the blaster at shoulder level again, switching off the safety with ease. The weapon still shook, so Thell closed her eyes, letting the fear wash away momentarily as she realized that she was in control.

With her eyes back open, and every intent and all attention focused on the target, she fired, shooting straight through the center of the circle and leaving a gaping, blazing hole.

“I’m not saying it’s easy, but sometimes it’s all you have.”

Mando trained her during the first week, until Thell felt comfortable enough shooting the targets. The nightmares remained, now wrought with blurry images of standing over that guard, and Thell still found herself wandering into the cockpit. The Mandalorian had never been much of a conversationalist, but it eased her to know that he didn’t mind her company. He didn’t hide away once she entered or showed disinterest in her conversation topics. In fact, she was getting to know him too. He was, slowly but surely, becoming her friend. At night, amidst starlight, she felt more comfortable not being expected to hold a blaster and fire at targets. Here, she felt more herself.

“Do you ever sleep?” She asked him one night.

“Yes.”

“... just seems like you’re in here most nights.”

“You are, too.... we train all day. Aren’t you tired?”

Part of her was.

“I... a bit. But I enjoy this.”

“Hm,” was all the Mandalorian said.

Getting a reading of his emotions had been the hardest part for Thell. Without seeing his face, or hearing much of a tone change in his modulated voice, it was hard for her to pinpoint exactly how he was feeling. He didn’t seem annoyed at her most days, but sometimes doubt would creep into her mind. Was he going to change his mind in letting her stay if she asked too many questions? What were the right questions to ask? Who was this guy, anyway?

But he seemed to get there first.

“Still having the nightmares?”

Thell’s brows raised. “Um... Yeah. I am.”

“What do you see?”

She leaned against the seat, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “That guard you killed... The one that gave me the blaster.”

“You see him every time you hold it.” When she nodded, the Mandalorian continued. “That’s the fear holding you back, Thell. You’ll have to learn to overcome it.”

“How?”

“You have to fight your own demons... figuring out who you want to be.”

Finally, was all Thell could think. All she had ever wanted to be, since she was a kid, was her own person, not a husk of someone who had come before her or the expectations of another.

But having someone else put it into words was more than frightening, and all she could think of were the millions of questions that were racing through her head. How does she find out who she’s meant to be, where she’s meant to be? Who is she without her parents or original home?

But she could deal with those questions later, or she knew they would consume her would she let them sit. Instead, she perked up, directing her attention back at the Mandalorian.

“Mando?”

“Yes?” His voice was nearly soft, his attention focused on the stars outside the cockpit window.

But Thell’s eyes were on the strange signet on his right shoulder pauldron, an animal of some sort with a large horn. It was a symbol for something, and Thell knew it.

“The symbol on your shoulder,” she started, pointing to her own shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s the sign of the Mudhorn.”

Thell’s brows creased. “And... what’s it for?”

“It’s my Clan.”

“Clan Mudhorn, then?” At her question, Mando nodded. “I haven’t heard of that clan before...”

“It’s because it’s just the kid and me... I had to fight a Mudhorn on Tatooine to get back pieces of the Razor Crest that Jawas had stolen from me.” The way he spoke of the past, how recent Thell wasn’t sure, made him warmer in her mind. This strange crew of two, a rugged Mandalorian and his adopted green baby, were their own clan.

Thell couldn’t help but feel a slight fondness rise in her soul for them. Yes, she loved them, the kid especially, before he had agreed to take her on to help his cause, but now something was different. Because the child wasn’t just this small, helpless creature, and the Mandalorian was not the same man that had walked in on her that night with Grogu in her arms, a blaster pointed directly at her face. He had been ready to kill her, would have, if she hadn’t let Grogu go.

She still didn’t know them very well, but she knew he wouldn’t kill her now. No, maybe not ever. Because she was risking tooth and limb, every opportunity she had at some normalcy in her life, to return this child to where he belonged. And she would gladly do it if it meant having Mando accompany her, protect her. He didn’t see her like everyone else did, like the daughter of a servant, like a lower class citizen. And it made something deep swell within her heart, a feeling she had never allowed herself to feel before.

She just wondered if he felt any ounce of the same thing she did.

“Does the name Sai’Lya have any significance?”

His question tore her out of her trance, and Thell blinked to look at him clearly.

“I don’t think so. Why... Do you know something?”

He shook his head lightly, his attention turning back towards the stars. “I don’t.”

“Hm,” Thell muttered, slouching against her seat and letting her fingers toy with the leather cord around her neck, the one holding the necklace to her body.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, nearly jumping up from the seat and wondering if she had scared Mando.

“I do have one thing of my dad’s... I was gonna show you, the night those people shot at us.”

His helmet slowly turned her way as Thell fished the necklace out from inside her tunic, gently turning it over and in Mando’s direction. It was small, made of some smooth metal, depicting some leonid creature: a cat with large fangs.

“I’m not sure what it is,” Thell explained with a shrug as she turned to lean towards him. “But it’s the only thing I’ve ever had of my father’s.”

Suddenly, Mando went rigid as his eyeline found the necklace, and Thell felt her blood go cold. He leaned forward, ever so slowly.

“Mando, is something wrong?” She asked, her voice shaking. “What’s going-"

His hand suddenly shot forward, the gloved fingers gently holding the necklace out. He was close now, so close Thell could clearly hear him breathing under the helmet.

“This,” he started, and Thell swore she could hear his voice break under the mask.

“This is Mandalorian.”

[fanfoolishness]

Star Wars Confessions

Tagged by @lastwordbeforetheend to post 5 confessions about Star Wars!

1. I first remember seeing Empire Strikes Back when I was 4 or 5, and by the time I was 10 I was thoroughly hooked on Star Wars. My mom used to see ESB WEEKLY in 1980 with her friends for a year, and both she and my dad were always huge Star Wars fans. I've had periods in my life where I'm more or less interested in it, but have always counted it as an interest. However, The Mandalorian is the first SW property that's ever nudged me into full-on fandom.

2. As a kid I got $5 for allowance every 2 weeks, and every 2 weeks I would check for new Star Wars figures at the store, which were $4.99. I had over 30 of the classic 90s 3.75" SW figures, including weirdoes like the Rancor Keeper in addition to Luke with Yoda in the backpack and Lando with his lovely cape. Sadly out of all of them I only had one Leia, dressed as the bounty hunter, and no other female characters. Now that I've gotten into Mando, I've been accumulating a small army of newer 3.75" figures and the Black Series 6" figures, which now include both versions of Din Djarin, the Armorer, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Kuiil, IG-11, and Bo-Katan, not to mention favorites from the original trilogy and the sequels. It's nice to not really grow up. XD My Tatooine-dust-smudged R2D2 still beeps with his original battery, more than 20 years later.

3. This is my first fandom I've been really prolific in yet haven't written a single romantic story for. Most of my Steven Universe fanfic was gen but there were smatterings of Connverse and Rose x Pearl and Rose x Greg, but the only things I ship Din Djarin with are sleep and friendship. I admit to being truly baffled by the Mando x Reader/Pedro x Reader genre and not getting the appeal at all. I'm glad people are enjoying themselves with it, but it doesn't make any sense to me, and I don't understand why people have chosen that instead of making OCs or self-inserts; maybe I'm just getting old! I'd never seen it really before this fandom (after writing fic for the past 20 years in several different fandoms). Definitely one of those cases of different strokes for different folks. More power to anyone who enjoys it but I'll be in the gen corner :)

4. I wrote an extremely hilarious and dorky friendfiction with my friends and I as Star Wars Phantom Menace characters in high school. Anakin was played by the fetal pig we had in biology class and I was the Jar Jar character because I knew my friends would probably be mad if I made one of them Jar Jar.

5. Pre-Covid, I loved going to Galaxy's Edge in Disneyland dressed as either Rey or a Resistance pilot, and would often spend an afternoon or evening in Batuu, sketching my surroundings and just soaking up the atmosphere. It was so incredible walking in and truly feeling like I'd gone to another world beneath a different star, and seeing so many details that really made me feel like I was in a galaxy far, far away. Looking forward to returning later this year hopefully, and recapturing some of that joy, this time in a Din Djarin outfit with a Grogu at my side <3

Tagging @art3mys, @fake-starwars-fan, and @thecagedthestral if you would like to play along, or anyone else who wants to post their confessions!

[velociraptors-dont-lie]

My way

Pairing : Din Djarin x OC

Blurb: When something bad happens it’s unsure what one will do in the face of something new and scary. For one such as her, the role seems small, unimportant and yet she’ll do it all her way for the child in her care.

A/N : I wasn’t gonna post this because it seems a bit too ...meh. i dont even have a proper vision for this yet but...im sure it’ll come to me. i got into the star wars universe recently so im a bit uneducated which...kinda works for this story actually. Lemme know any thoughts though. 

Warnings: None? i don’t think in this chapter

Part Two

Chapter One: Arrival

There's a Galaxy not too far away.

It's beautiful. It's everything she could have possibly asked for and it's right there in her sights. It feels almost as if she could reach out and touch it, so close and yet so far away. So many things it could have been, yet it was a simple yet complex Galaxy that caught her eye in the dark space around her.  

Sighing, she looks away from the hunger-inducing chocolate bar and continues to work with her higher-paid...male coworkers.  

They bustled and ranted from all around her, flanked from all sides as she tried to figure just why they didn't treat her with the same respect other females in the workplace got.

Perhaps it was her clothes, her blue hair? her choice in jewelry perhaps? Everything about her seemed perfectly normal, she was fairly normal, kind, and helpful...so why did they seem to hate her so much?

Maybe it wasn't hate so much as indifference. They did thank her when she brought their coffee or tea and they did say please when they asked her for stuff. She smoothed down the black pencil skirt as she looked upon the notes and files on her desk.

The place of her work wasn't entirely for the simple. Sure there was the usual lab work, science work involving different studies, the particular area in which she was interning for, was Space.

Time and space.

The small team of scientists were working on several theories and tests all at the same time. Files from new technology to new ways to travel in space came through her desk each day.

Never had she thought something quite like this would be obtainable.

Pens, rocks, different fabrics, all of which had gone through the test of teleportation into space. The landings were screwy, some rocks landed in the dead nonexistent atmosphere, forever suspended.

Others had landed on different planets. Only discernible if the tracker still worked.

Three hamsters had died in transportation, more had suffocated in space...she knew which idiot had forgotten to put them in a sealed oxygenated box.

There were more failures than successes and they were no closer to their goal of finding out what lay on the other side of a Galaxy.

The day had started off like any other. She pined for her chocolate, pined for her soft fuzzy socks and warmth of her bed. As much as she loved that she had gotten into one of the most wanted lab spots as an intern.

She wished she was more than just an intern.

The light pink shirt she wore blended nicely between her blue hair and black pencil skirt; black heeled shoes completing the air of sophistication.  Everything seemed fairly normal except for the people.

They'd never been like this. The workplace always used to be kind and safe, now she just felt odd and scared. It was silent and they all looked at her with passing glances, hoping she wasn't realizing that they were staring sometimes.

It was awfully suspicious. All-day they'd be secretive, more so than usual and it was really starting to creep her out. So she reached down and picked up her bag from the floor, heading for the first reception out of the building.

''I'm heading home for the day, I don't feel too good.''

''Of course, Nora. I hope you feel better. Oh! quickly before you go-'' Nora rejected the urge to roll her eyes. Anticipating the gold medal run for Talking in the Olympics for England, Nora was ready for her feet to be aching, instead what she felt was entirely different.

The woman was still talking as the pinch in her neck subsided, Nora's eyes falling shut immediately, the world going blank as she fell back into the waiting arms of a coworker.

Well, Ex-coworker.

Waking up was a feat in itself. She felt hot, courtesy of the fact that they had stuffed her into a spacesuit, where they had acquired the thing or where they had put her favourite pair of shoes were the questions on her mind.

Aside from the obvious 'what the fuck are they doing to me' question in big bold letters, screaming itself in her head. At least it was before the realization set in.

They'd thrown her into a spacesuit without taking off her underclothes, her skirt bunched uncomfortably under it, she had no socks on in the giant boots. The vacuum-sealed room had only one exit and it was locked tight.

Though it wasn't entirely empty. She was there yes, but so were her shoes and her bag. ''THose are for you to keep in event you end up somewhere...alive.''

The head of their little team spoke on the other side of the glass. He used to be kind, he used to smile all the time and now he just looked evil, devoid of any emotion.  

''Please don't do this!'' It wasn't hard for them to hear her, the helmet's comm was connected to the entire room and she could hear her echo. ''I'll die!''

''Nonsense. You're the best human candidate we have for this test.''

''I never fucking volunteered! Asshole!'' She pounded her fist against the window, the fight in her was dead but she was going to act as if she had any chance of getting out of that room. ''People will look for me. They will miss me!''

''There's nothing to look for here. You left early after suddenly coming down with an illness.''  Anita's face fell, her own excuse being used against her so all her friends would think she was just another missing person.

''Fire it up.''

She could feel the rumble beneath her feet, the telltale startup of the machine. They actually going to do this. ''No! This is inhuman! Monstrous! Please don't!''

Ignored, the head starting barking more orders, muffled and incoherent as he turned off the comm connection. The lights in the room flickered, computer screens and phone screens, electricity could all but be seen in the air.

This was new. Something they seemed to have done behind her back. The normal machine never took so much power to be used, and she wondered just what needed so much power.

The answer came in the form of a strong wind. A pull from behind her and she could see that her bag was moving towards it.  

Space. In the palm of their hand, contained in this tiny room. They had opened a portal nearby to the andromeda galaxy, or it so seemed like they had done it. Anita couldn't actually see the galaxy, nor any galaxy or star, just the vast darkness of space.

Anita gathered her grey bag, shoving her shoes into it as she turned back to the window, banging on it in fear as she pleaded with them to stop this. Pleaded with their humanity that she would stay silent about this if they just let her out.

All her coworkers stayed still, neither moving nor blinking at the show of science in front of them. Whatever force of gravity was pulling her away was getting stronger, her instant hold on anything was pure instinct.

Though it was not strong enough. The gloves didn't allow for the same grip she would have had without them on.  She felt her hands slipping and when she eventually had been pulled from the bar.

The loss of gravity felt strange, as though she were in an elevator, her entire being felt weightless but it still terrified her to no end. On the edge of hyperventilating, she suddenly felt the sucking vacuum once again before Gravity dropped her to the ground.

Anita felt relief, eyes closed she thought perhaps the machine hadn't worked, that it had turned off and failed. On the contrary, The machine had worked too well.

The room she was in was empty. The scientists were baffled and the entire building was dark, everything within a five-mile radius was dark as the power had been used for the machine. The only thing that told the scientists that it had worked, was the lights they checked when they managed to get everything back on.

When Anita opened her eyes, the relief vanished and fear had returned. The ground underneath her was not white and tiled, it was brown and...sand, her helmet had cracked and she hear the air whistling through the tight gap as the wind blew.

She'd had been dead if she couldn't breathe the atmosphere so it had to be at least similar to Earths atmosphere. She was warm, too warm and she didn't know if it was because her heart was pounding or because of the sun looming overhead.

Wrenching off the bulky helmet, Anita worked on stripping the heavy and hot suit from her body which left her in just her smart work clothes and a labcoat. Anita's cries were loud, no one was around to hear them and she had to let out some of the emotions she was feeling.

She couldn't believe they had done that to her. She had worked with them for months and thought she was their friend. To be thrown away so easily wasn't something Anita was used to and crying in the middle of a desert, barefoot and at risk of cancer was something she never expected to be doing.

She picked up her bag, heels poking out the edge, and hugged to her chest. the only familiar thing around her wasn't going to leave her sight.  The sand was hot on her toes, tears still falling as she stood to her feet and wondered which direction to walk in to find any sort of civilization or place to set a base up.

She hadn't known how long she had been walking, sand was stuck to her feet as sweat dripped down her legs. Flyaway blue hairs stuck to her head and she wished she had more than the tiny bottle of water she bought on the way to work.

She was scared, alone, and had no way of knowing where she was. She hadn't seen anything more than a random frog-like thing hopping around. The racing heart and mind were only just starting to calm down when she heard shouting in a foreign language.

Something shot at her, just barely missing her toes in the sand and Anita screamed. Falling to her knees and throwing her hands in the air as non-threateningly as she could possibly get.  Hands roughly grabbed and shoved down behind her back, forced back to her feet and to walk in a direction different to the one she was going in.

''Please, I don't understand!!''

The strange beings that had seemed to take her prisoner continued to force her forward. Only 4 of them but the glimpse of red and green skin was enough to make her realize she didn't want to see them.

''Quiet!''

Something in her dropped with relief that they seemed to know even a little bit of English. She half thought she could perhaps reason with them, try to get them to let her go in any direction they were not in.

The feel of a gun barrel told her not to speak again though. Anita regretted not doing so as they walked over a large dune, an encampment sitting there looking all...suspicious to her.  More of the people who had captured her were walking around it, seemingly keeping guard of the place which only further cemented the fact that these were not good people...things.

They took her in and snatched her bag from her, one looked through it while the other pushed what looked like a metal egg towards her.

''Hey! B-be careful with those!'' Though scared, her phone was terribly expensive and she still wanted to keep all her familiar items from home even if some of them wouldn't work here.

The one with the gun like weapon jabbed her with the barrel and made a sound that told her to be quiet. pushing the metal egg into her thighs with more force. ''You care for it.''

''Care for what!? Is this thing alive!? It's an egg! Hey, now that is super duper expensive!'' Overwhelmed and jabbed once again with the gun barrel, Anita watched helplessly as the one with her bag dropped her perfume back in it without a care. She hoped it hadn't broken.

''Care for it!'' Hardly any other option at the end of a weapon, Anita wrapped her arms around the egg and held it close to her hoping to appease the thing talking in broken English. The other one threw her bag back down to the floor and they both left together, the large metal door shutting behind them heavily.

Evidently her only way out of the room, Anita had little choice but to sit on the floor and observe the metal egg she was given. It was white, but very clearly bashed up with a slit down the middle of the top end.

Anita squinted at what looked like buttons on the front of it. Gently tapping her painted fingernails on the metal, jumping when she heard a cooing sound muffled from within; her mouth made an 'o' shape at the realization that the egg itself wasn't alive, but there was instead something alive inside it.

She didn't want to open it. What if it was like those other things. What if it was scaly or had horns and sharp, what if it bit her entire hand off and she needed a metal hook to replace it!? Laughing at herself, Anita hovered her finger over the button counting to three before pressing it quickly and shuffling away on the off chance it would bite her.

The cooing sounded again, louder now it wasn't covered by the metal. Anita opened her eyes and glanced at it, thoroughly surprised by what she saw, for one, it was green...

And utterly adorable.

''Oh hiiii.'' Whatever it was cooed again at her tone and Anita held her breath, heart pounding for a completely different reason now. ''You've been kept in this pod thing like this the whole time?''

She questioned mostly to herself, as it seemed not to be able to speak actual words. It tilted its head, large green ears the size of her hands flopping a little at the tips and it made another sound as it reached its hands out to her.

Anita could almost burst out into tears, it wanted to be held and it looked so heartbrokenly neglected. She immediately swooped it from the weird metal bassinet thing and cradled it to her chest, wondering if her heart could break anymore when it closed its eyes and tapped its small green finger to the sound of her heartbeat.

''Oh honey, they've been treating you horridly haven't they?'' at this, it's hands bunched in her lab coat. The creature was obviously quite frightened, confused as to why it was so important to the other things and Anita had chosen her path in this new galaxy, right by this child's side for as long as it needed her.

''There's no need to be afraid anymore. I am your mother now and I will protect you.''

[kyberphilosopher]

Important Information

Rules:

I am a minor. As such, smut can not be requested and can not be written. As a compromise, smutty themes can be used as overtones or undertones, often vaguely or simply eluded to. But pure smut? Not for a few months, which is when I’ll be 18. Sorry horndogs. 

Please request through the submission inbox, or my direct messages. Further more, be polite. Be clear. If I ask a question to clear something up, answer it. Don’t let it dangle. I will always ask if there’s anything else you so desire (a word count, any details) so please tell me if there’s nothing else or if there is. English is also not my first language. 

Do not request something against canon. I have written like that before and did not enjoy that. This means if something is considered canon, say Star Wars, such as a line of dialogue or something shown on screen, I would refuse to write you into it. I feel that it distorts the fiction so much you wouldn’t really be in it, and the characters wouldn’t be themselves anymore. Allow me to write you into the world as a side character, as something not shown directly but something that could fit into canon. 

Some fictional characters have different versions of them. For example, Movie Anakin Skywalker, and the Clone Wars Anakin Skywalker. Ben Affleck Batman, or Christian Bale Batman? Or even, Comic Accurate Batman? Specify for me. If not specified after asking for it, I will write the character with headcanon information pulled from multiple ‘canon’ sources. This will be referred to as ‘headcanoned canon’.

Reblog my stuff? Absolutely. I see all my reblogs. But take it an post it to a different site? No. Don’t do that. Maybe I’ll spread over to Ao3 one day, but for now, please don’t. 

Last one I can think of for now. But luckily this can be updated over time. I don’t write drabbles. I know! But just imagine all the times you’ve read a fic so good, only for it to end so soon. I like the thought of writing something both high quality and high quantity, which means I won’t be satisfied with anything under 2,000 words. Unfortunately, this may sometimes come at the expense of time. Especially if what you requested doesn’t fit into my current hyperfixation. 

List of Characters I’ve Written, or Am Open to Writing:

Aayla Secura, Star Wars (Clone Wars)

Ahsoka Tano, Star Wars (Clone Wars and Live Action)

Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars (Clone Wars and Live Action)

Asaaj Ventress, Star Wars (Clone Wars and Books)

Boba Fett, Star Wars (Live Action Original Movies and The Mandalorian)

Bodhi Rook, Star Wars (Rogue One)

Bo-Katan Kryze, Star Wars (Clone Wars and The Mandalorian)

Cal Kestis, Star Wars (Jedi: Fallen Order, Beginning and End of Game)

Cassian Andor, Star Wars (Rogue One)

Darth Maul, Star Wars (Clone Wars)

Din Djarin, Star Wars (The Mandalorian)

Finn, Star Wars (Live Action Sequel Trilogy)

Jyn Erso, Star Wars (Rogue One)

Leia Skywalker, Star Wars (Live Action Original Movies)

Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, Star Wars (Clone Wars and Live Action)

Padme Amidala, Star Wars (Clone Wars and Live Action)

Poe Dameron, Star Wars (Live Action Sequel Trilogy)

Rey, Star Wars (Live Action Sequel Trilogy)

Rex, Star Wars (Clone Wars)

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Batman, DC Comics (All Live Action, All Comic, Arkhamverse, All Animated, Headcanoned Canon)

Bane, DC Comics (Games)

Barry Allen/The Flash, DC Comics (All Live Action, Headcanoned Canon)

Black Canary, DC Comics (Birds of Prey Live Action Movie)

Bruce Wayne, DC Comics (All Live Action, Headcanoned Canon)

Catwoman/Selina Kyle, DC Comics (Headcanoned Canon)

Christopher Smith/Peacemaker, DCEU (All Live Action, Headcanoned Canon)

Cleo Cazo/Ratcatcher 2, DCEU (Live Action)

Conner Kent/Superboy, DC Comics (Titans, All Animated)

Damian Wayne, DC Comics (Animated and Injustice)

Dick Grayson, DC Comics (Titans, All Comic, Arkhamverse, All Animated, All Versions)

Harley Quinn, DC Comics (All Live Action, All Comic, Arkhamverse, All Animated Versions)

Jason Todd/Red Hood, DC Comics (Headcanoned Canon, Arkhamverse, All Animated, Titans, All Versions)

Katana, DC Comics (2016 Suicide Squad Live Action Movie)

Poison Ivy, DC Comics (Arkhamverse, All Comic, All Animated, Headcanoned Canon)

Tim Drake/Red Robin, DC Comics (Arkhamverse, All Comic, All Animated, Headcanoned Canon)

Raven, DC Comics (Headcanoned Canon, All Animated, All Comics, All Titans)

Robert Dubois/Bloodsport, DC Comics (DCEU Live Action)

Scarecrow/Johnathon Crane, DC Comics(All Live Action, Arkhamverse, Headcanoned Canon)

Starfire/Koriand’r, DC Comics (Titans, All Comics, All Animated, Headcanoned Canon)

Superman/Clark Kent, DC Comics (Cavill’s Live Action, All Animated, All Comics)

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Annie Leonhardt, Shingeki no Kyojin (Marley Resident, Season 1-3, Season 4, Titan Form)

Bertholdt Hoover, Shingeki no Kyojin (Marley Resident, Season 1-3)

Carla Jaeger, Shingeki no Kyojin (Pre Beginning)

Eren Jaeger, Shingeki no Kyojin (Season 1-3, Season 4, Titan Form)

Hanji Zoe, Shingeki no Kyojin (All Seasons and OVA)

Jean Kirchstein, Shingeki no Kyojin (Season 1-3, Season 4)

Levi Ackerman, Shingeki no Kyojin (All Seasons and OVA)

Marco Bodt, Shingeki no Kyojin (Season 1)

Mikasa Ackerman, Shingeki no Kyojin (Season 1-3, Season 4)

Moblit Berner, Shingeki no Kyojin (All Seasons and OVA)

Sasha Braus, Shingeki no Kyojin (Season 1-3, Season 4)

L Lawliet, Death Note (Season 1)

Ryuk, Death Note (Season 1)

Touta Matsuda, Death Note (Season 1)

Raye Penber and Naomi Matsura (Season 1, Pre Beginning, Throuple Headcanon Canoned)

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Connor RK800, Detroit: Become Human (Deviant, Android, Mid and Post Game)

Chloe RT600, Detroit: Become Human (Deviant, Android, Pre, Mid, and Post Game)

Gavin Reed, Detroit: Become Human (Mid and Post Game)

Kara AX400, Detroit: Become Human (Post Game)

Luther TR400, Detroit: Become Human (Pre and Post Game)

Markus RK200, Detroit: Become Human (Pre, Mid, and Post Game)

Nines RK900, Detroit: Become Human (Post Game)

North WR400, Detroit: Become Human (Pre, Mid, and Post Game)

Other Worlds and Fandoms Coming Soon. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

What You Can Expect From Me:

Fanfiction

Headcanons- While I’d consider all of my fanfiction headcanons, I’m referring to those little bullet point things you’ll see writers do. Here’s my deal on that. I won’t do romantic headcanons for the characters listed above. By that I mean you won’t see anything titled, “How Poe Dameron Would Cuddle”, or anything of that sort. But you probably will see just my own little headcanons for fun. Like, little fun facts. You know, “Superman’s favorite food is ____”, “Nines hates rats”.

However, I will write romantic headcanons for my OC’s. But that’s for later.

Further regarding fanfiction, I typically write angst. Not sure why, it’s just what I started with because I thought the plots were strongest and I wanted to see where I could take it. Like I said, no smut, but you’ll find allusions to it. Fluff? Yeah, it’s there. Hard for me to write fluff without a plot, but it does exist on my page. 

Original Stories

Most people ignore this, but if you see that I’ve posted it won’t always be something regarding your favorite character. I write my own little stories that’s basically just glorified, book length headcanons for a few worlds, but mostly the Star Wars galaxy. Don’t worry, there’s no need to pay attention to it if you don’t want. It’s something I do in my spare time besides x readers and oneshots. 

Spontaneous Posting

What I mean by this, is that unlike a lot of writers, I don’t work on a schedule. There’s no “once a week posting”, or anything like that. What I finish and give the okay to, is posted. If you’ve requested something, I’ll let you know that it’s about to go out. So sometimes a burst of fics may be pumped out in a week, or none will for up to a month.

Going by EST, I typically am most active at night and early morning. Especially in the summer. During fall this may change.

I rarely put out a post that is unrelated to my writings. If it is related to my personal life instead, it will be posted, but not saved. Documented and available, but never pinned or anything. 

FAQ:

Do you write queer pairings?

Yes. My earlier works usually elude to a female reader and it’s blaringly obvious, though it’s shifting into androgyny for ease of reader. I would prefer to have an androgynous reader instead of a set in stone male or female one. 

Am I reading a queer fanfic written by a straight person?

You are not. I am androgynous myself in terms of gender and unlabeled in terms of sexuality. 

Do you write for poc?

This question shocks me, though I’ve gotten it twice. Then I realized- it’s because so many writers forget the point of a reader. The reader may be described as blonde, or white, or thin, or female. You will not find that here. There will be no set in stone appearance for the reader except for mentions of whatever hair you may possess (apologies to those without hair). There will be no talk of ‘light skin’, or ‘curvy figure’. The farthest I’ll go is describing you as pale, if say, you were sick. Because any race or skin tone can go pale, you know? The only thing I’d do- rarely- is give you a real age. But only to further the plot if needed.

 My point is, ‘Y/N’ is not just a pretty white person with long hair. It’s inclusive to anyone. I’ll stand by that. 

Do you write headcanons?

Answered in the above section. Long story short, I’m working on it, but on my terms. 

Do you write song fics?

I haven’t before. Why? They make me cringe. I don’t know why. I’ll write a fic based on a song, or with undertones of a song. But those little paragraphs with the lyrics that aren’t even in time with what you’re reading if you were to read and listen at the same time? I don’t think so. 

Do you know what sex is?

I do. 

Will you have e-sex with me in the direct message chatbox?

I will not. 

Why do you write on tumblr?

I started writing just to share an old word document with over 300 pages worth of an Original Star Wars story. I tried my hand at fanfiction because, while I don’t read it often myself, I know a lot of people do. It helps them escape reality. And, I’m a pretty good writer, I think. At least I can only get better. I’m just one more person trying to put something out for people to enjoy, and maybe even rely on. 

Will you ever write for real people?

If I ever wrote a fanfiction about Christian Bale or like Barack Obama I think I would just disappear. I can’t do it. It’s like warping my own reality. 

How often do you post?

I don’t know. 

Do you have a taglist?

I did! But only for Star Wars. If you want to be tagged in something, let me know. But you have to be specific. Just for a certain character? For a certain fandom? A certain plot? Just og stories? Be clear. 

Dynamics I Enjoy Writing:

Man simps for person who almost wants nothing to do with them. 

Hero simps for villain or villain simps for hero despite the obvious consequences.

Two jokesters destroy some area while left alone together. May get along better than they would admit. 

Two people who are not expected to get along, get along well. 

Hero and villain are best friends but won’t admit it.

Basically if I’m left to my own mind most of my fics will fall under one of these dynamics. Not always- definitely not always. But I kinda like them. 

Numbers:

800-273-8255 USA National Suicide Hotline

1 (300) 22 4636 Australia Suicide and Anxiety Line

1 (833) 456 4566  Canada Suicide Hotline

800-810-1117 China Suicide Hotline

0145394000 France Suicide Hotline

08001810771 Germany Suicide Hotline

8888817666  India Suicide Hotline

810352869090 Japan Suicide Hotline

0078202577577 Russia Suicide Hotline

08457909090 UK Suicide Hotline

4408457909090 Ireland Emergency Hotline

1-800-656-4673 US National Sexual Assault Hotline

741-741 National Panic Hotline (for people who prefer to text)

Anything else? 

Nope. Can’t think of anything. We’ll see if anything changes. Thanks for checking it out. 

Header Credits to: @moonknights​