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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

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I Need You More Than I Wanted To

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: needy din, lowkey out of character but idc, pining possibly one sided, lots of begging, angst, description of y/n’s body, masturbation reference if you squint HARD, sappy speeches at the end, arguing, lots of angst (bc angst is my favorite)

a/n i’ve had this idea in my drafts for MONTHS so i’m so happy i’ve gotten around to writing it.

summary Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

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read time: 11 mins 8 seconds

Din’s heart ached like no other watching you these past few days. The silent suffering, the longing, and the pain he has been observing was hard to watch; the hardest part was that he was the reason for this.

He knew you like the back of his hand. For years the two of you have been traveling the galaxy, searching for as many credits as possible and managing to have a fun time while doing it. Living life with you is how Din preferred it. It was carefree. The two of you made a great team and wanted to live lavishly one day. That was the dream, at least. The two of you saved credits like crazy, but it never seemed to be enough to purchase a palace. Once the kid came along everything changed. The sudden dream of living large seemed to fade over the horizon. Something clicked. The two of you were now parents.

When Greef mentioned to him about you when the two of you visited the new Nevarro, Din was sure he was just messing with him.

“Are you two finally together?”

The question confused Din.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Din was shocked. Had he really been that clueless?

“That’s impossible,” Din responded. Greef laughed. “You're telling me that if she made the first move, you wouldn’t reciprocate it?”

A strict “No” came from Din. “Never.”

The child cooed and the two men turned around. There you stood in the doorway, waiting for them to finish their conversation. The exact conversation you had just overheard.

Your mouth slightly dropped. The expression on your face was shocked. You quickly blinked and closed your mouth, trying to mask your disappointment. But Din knew. Maybe it was enough to fool Greef Karga, but Din knew he had just hurt the person he cared for the most deeply.

“H-he wanted you,” you said silently, not expecting your voice to quiver. You set down Grogu on the red velvet couch. Din nodded. Your lip quivered as you stared at him through the visor in pure shock. With hurt in your eyes, you excused yourself to the shared quarters the two of you were given for the time of your stay.

“And that…” Greef began. Din scooped up Grogu in his arms. Grogu made a noise and grunted, seemingly wanting to now leave his father and attend to his heartbroken mother. He squirmed in Din’s arms until he let him down.

“That was the look of heartbreak.”

The next few days on Nevarro were filled with a cold distance. Neither you nor Din wanted to discuss the elephant in the room. Simple words were exchanged in the interest of the child, but that was about it.

It was your last night on Nevarro.

Din had been at the cantina with Greef Karga and some of his associates, celebrating the newly liberated Nevarro. You had gone to bed early, staying with Grogu.

You were surprised Din even agreed to go out, he hated outings such as drinking with friends. If things weren’t so heated at the moment, he would have much rather preferred a night staying in with you and watching some stupid show on your datapad and eating whatever your heart desired.

The sun had been set for hours. You were lounging in your satin red sleep robe that was complimentary given to you upon your arrival. The beautiful braid you had your hair up in all day was now gone, your hair was curled due to the all-day friction. The ladies assigned to your care were more than delightful. With the satin robes and braids you could never master, it was like you never wanted to leave. You lay on the king-sized bed you had been giving to Din the last few nights. The couch was beginning to hurt your back, and he was nowhere to be found.

Grogu, still not asleep, was patting the lavish sheets with his hands. You smiled, watching the curious creature discover the new textures. Your eyes wandered to the marvelous carvings coated in gold paint that covered the pillars in your room. Eyes beginning to droop, you were suddenly awoken by a cold hand on your exposed thigh.

“Buir!” he squealed. Recognizing the Mando’a right away, your thinned-lip smile turned into a frown. “I know,” you sighed, extending your hand towards the child and brushing the top of his head. “He’ll be back soon.”

Grogu crawled up your legs and onto your torso. Grogu began grabbing some of the strands of hair that lay on your chest, you slowly separated his hands from the grasp. “Good job on speaking, buddy.” you smiled, now sitting against the bedframe. Grogu sat in your lap, reaching for your hair once again. A genuine smile arose on your face as you watched your son rest in your lap. The thought of Din left your mind, but only temporarily. He seemed to haunt your dreams as he haunted your days. You fell asleep with Grogu in your lap.

Din’s clanky armor trudged up the many stairs to the guest bedroom. It was almost like a full workout, he was ready to get into the shower and then get into bed.

Din absolutely hated his time out; barely being able to sip his drink and listening to the arguing of men about topics he didn't even care about was not his idea of a good night. He didn't want to admit it though—he yearned to spend the night with you. You consumed his every thought, and with every sip of his strong alcohol, he just kept feeling worse and worse. The image of your face re played in his head all week. With the disappointment and hurt he never wanted to inflict on you, the guilt was building up in his stomach like no other.

Slowly, his ungloved hand waved against the sensor. The door whirred open. Din hoped he didn’t wake you, it was already almost morning, even though the sunrise was hours away. He could hear the morning bugs begin to chirp on his way home. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he set his helmet down on the chair in the corner. He turned around to find you- his heart seemed to skip a beat.

Laying in the silk robe you were gifted, your legs were parted awkwardly as you slept. You lay on your stomach with your face delved in a pillow. The slow movement of your back going up and down gave Din the confidence that you were okay. One arm lay at your side, the other cradled Grogu against your waist. His breath finally caught up with him once he realized he had been staring for too long.

The only thing he could seem to think about in his shower was his best friend. The woman who had always been there for him. She was merely a partner until Greef suggested otherwise. The thought of even diving into anything romantic with you never crossed Din’s mind until then. His hand held his seemingly limp body on the wall, holding him upwards as the water washed over him. The thought of you sprawled out on the bed, on his bed was just…

The thought went straight to his head, making him feel emotions for you he never had before. Your body, the way you lay, how you were protecting his son even in slumber. Everything about you seemed so appealing in a way Din had never felt for another woman.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Greef’s voice haunted Din’s mind as he slept. He woke up gasping for air on the couch. You turned to look at him but only for a moment. You made eye contact. It was rare you saw him without his helmet, and even rarer to make complete eye contact. Din wasn’t one for eye contact. Looking down, you continued to fold Grogu’s extra robes that were freshly cleaned and delivered to your room earlier this morning. You were packing to leave.

Din sat upright, his hand holding his forehead. His head was pounding. Looking up, he noticed a glass of water and a few pills sitting on the table in front of him. Presumably set up for him, by you. His heart sank. Even in pain, you somehow still cared for him. He turned to look at you again. You were still getting Grogu ready to leave. He was jumping on the bed, making gargling noises as you tried to dress him. Din took the pills and finished the water and set the glass down with a clank, so you knew he had seen your gesture.

“What time are we leaving?” he asked, standing up to finish his packing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; his hair was disheveled and he was in need of a shave. He ran a hand over the patchy stubble on his cheeks. To his surprise, his bag was sitting packed on the same chair where he rested his helmet last night. His helmet was sitting on top of the bag.

You sighed. “Din,” you croaked, saying his name for the first time in days. He looked over at you. The same pain was there, but the look of exhaustion followed it. “I-I’m not going.”

His brows raised. A slight panic set in. “What do you mean, your not going?” he asked in a more hostile tone than needed. You drew in a sharp breath and looked back at the same gold detailing you were looking at the night before. “Grogu is packed,” you simply said, scooping the child up in your arms. He squealed at your embrace, cuddling up in your arms. It was the last time you were going to be with Grogu, at least for a while. “Greef invited us to breakfast,” you said, swiftly walking past Din to the door. Your attempt to leave was unsuccessful.

Din grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Grogu let out a whine, as he was shuffled in the hassle. No words had to be said, the stares you were giving each other were enough. Din tilted his head slightly. The feeling of you was slipping through his fingers. Memories of you two fighting bounties, saving credits for a future, and then raising Grogu together hurt him more than ever. You were already too far gone. He had done damage that seemed irreversible.

A single tear rolled down your face.

It was never meant to go this far.

“Let me go,” you begged. Din didn’t realize his grasp on you was getting tighter as the seconds went by. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, closer to a mumble.

With reluctance, he let go of your arm.

“What about the villa?” he called after you as you were about to exit the room. You stopped cold in your tracts. “Don’t bring up the villa-” you scolded him, turning around. The once-thought dream of living lavishly with Din, as a retired pair on a fancy planet scorned your broken heart. “You're really just going to leave? After everything?” he asked.

“You were my everything.” you bitterly cried out. Grogu squirmed in your arms. You sat him down on the bed.

Those words punched through Din like a thousand knives. “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what did you mean?” you ask, approaching Din. “I heard your conversation loud and clear, Din. I understand your intentions.”

“Y/N I had no clue,” he tried to defend himself. “Liar!” you screamed. Din was taken aback by your anger and took a few steps back. “I have spent the last many years of my life following you around blindly. We lived together, slept in the same bed, shared meals, shared laughs, and now share a child! I held you during cold nights! I saw your face, we’ve seen each other nude more times than I can count, you cared for me when I got hurt on that one mission to Tatooine. You cared for me while my leg was broken and I was helpless. We were everything without a title, Din! There is no way you never saw or felt anything. I simply don’t believe it. I can’t believe I thought I could see the true heart of a cold, selfish Mandalorian.”

Din was almost at a loss for words. He stood for a moment, finding words to say as he watched you realize every single word you had just spewed out at him. Your hand began to shake as you sat down, covering your mouth and staring at the carpet with wide eyes.

“Do you think I chose this? This is how I was raised, Y/N!” he argues. Your gaze moved from the carpet and back to Din. “I cannot take a spouse unless they are a Mandalorian, you know this,” Din begged, grasping for straws. He wanted you more badly than anything else in the world, but the creed that was so deeply indoctrinated in him was fighting the feelings.

“Blinded by your creed.” you spat out. Din seethed. The creed he was in the process of abandoning anyways.

“Why do you think I’m leaving it?” he blurted out. He didn’t want to admit it, but he said it out loud. Never had he ever admitted before to himself, let alone another person that he was done with his origins. The religion he was raised in, the culture that had brought him in and saved his life was now being thrown out… but for what? The convincing Bo-Katan did and saving him from this cult-like creed saved his life, truly deep down. Even if the efforts were small, they awoke something in Din. But was he really ready to shun his culture completely? Din never really came to terms with it, I guess, until now.

“You have hurt me deeply, Din Djarin,” you said with your lip quivering, stating your final words. With that, you took Grogu and went to breakfast. You knew using his full, true name always hit him in a spot where it hurt most.

As you were about to walk down the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you heard your name being called clearly from the other side of the hall. You turned around, seeing Din jogging down the hall to you.

“Din! Your helmet,” you cried out. He had left the room without it. As he only trusted you and Grogu to see his natural face, anyone who he didn’t trust could turn him into the leaders of his clan. It touched him that you seemed to care for him on some level to still care about his helmet insecurities.

Then again, the reigns the creed held on him were loosening day by day.

“Wait,” he said, huffing as he approached you. “Please.”

“I want to go eat breakfast,” you said sternly.

Din’s arms loosely fell over your figure, his hands slowly touching your arms as they cradled Grogu.

“Don’t go,” he begged.

You looked up into his glossy eyes. Often you would forget how much taller he was than you. Sighing, you looked away.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

Din’s knees seemed to collapse under him. He gave in to the buckling of his kneecaps and grabbed both of your hands, begging on his knees for you.

“To live all these years blindly, to not see what was truly in front of me will haunt me for the rest of my days. I am lost without you. Like a galaxy without stars, I am incomplete. I hope you can forgive me for my foolish words, I did not know what I was saying. You are everything to me. The mother of my child, my partner in crime, my light in the dark, my moon to guide me at night, my motivation, my companion, my love. Please forgive me. I need you to stay. You are all I have, you are all I need. A life without you is not worth living.”

To end his plea, he kissed your hands and wept.

Your right hand moved from his grasp to cup his cheek. It was wet with tears. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, wiping a tear away. “Din please,” you said, tearing up as you watched him sit and beg for you.

As his were moments before, your knees seemed to fail you and you joined him on the ground. Your hands grasped his hair as you engulfed the sobbing man in a hug. The soothing sounds of you shushing him like a baby filled the empty hallway.

“I won’t leave, I promise,” you whispered. This seemed to only make him cry harder. The realization Din had of how lucky he was and how close he was to losing you terrified him.

You would have never thought that you would be holding a sobbing Mandalorian. This was living proof of how much he loved and adored you. “H-how could you ever forgive me?” he asked, looking up into your gaze.

“I already have, my love.”

And with that, the two of you delved into your first kiss. It was wet and filled with passion, but also had a theme of hesitation from the two of you.

In all honesty, it was Din’s first kiss ever.

He moved his lips against yours, following your lead. The passion that moved between the two of you was something you had never felt with anyone else before. His hands wandered to your waist as he feverishly begged for more, but knew the limits of the setting the two of you were in.

Moments before the inevitable breakaway, your kiss was interrupted with a cool paw on your leg and a “Patu”

You rocked back on your legs to see the tiny green baby looking angrily at the two of you. A small laugh came from you and Din as he picked Grogu up and fixed his robes.

“Go get fixed up,” you said sweetly, kissing Din on the cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“One question?” he asked, just as you were standing up to leave.

“What time are we leaving?”

“12.” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko

@peeta-is-useless @kirsteng42 @salliebley @bubsonnobx @lexloon @untitledarea @qualitypudding @bitchwitch1981 @kittenlittle24

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xmissrogersx · 8 months ago

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✩₊̣̇.♡ the lyric: “his hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face”

me instantly:

this song is so them, literally. I would let them do whatever they want to me. I’m no kiddin :)

when i’m listening to i can fix him (no really i can), mi mind screams “GO TO WRITE ANOTHER OF JOEL AND DIN”

today i will post 2 one-shots. stay sintonized ♡

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dindjarindiaries · 7 months ago

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Security - Peace (Interlude)

summary: Din and Astra find ways to reconcile with their past hardships while their family enjoys laying low in their new home.

timeline: A week or two after the events of season 3.

warnings: sexual themes, mentions of death & trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, food, fluff

rating: M

word count: 4.306k

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peace (interlude)

Astra blinks into the darkness, the emptiness of her grasp causing a chill to run through her. She tightens the material of Din’s tunic around her and lifts her head from the burrow of blankets she had made during her slumber. Once her eyes adjust to the darkness, Astra finds the outline of Din on the edge of the bed, his back facing her as he works on something in front of him.

With a silent yawn, Astra turns her attention to the nearest chrono. He’s up well before Nevarro’s sunrise. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, nor will it be the last. Astra’s simply grateful she’s woken up at the proper time to be with him and his tumultuous thoughts.

She debates remaining where she is for the sake of Din’s guilty conscience, but her desire to comfort him wins over. Astra eases herself out of the blankets and crawls over to Din until she’s right behind him. Her hands gently glide along his warm skin as they wrap around his bare torso. She presses her lips against the heat of his shoulder, the same way she used to on Sorgan when he was wrestling with the weight of giving their son away.

Din’s chest rises and falls in a breath of relief that makes Astra’s lips curve into a smile against his skin. Her eyes somehow manage to make out what Din’s doing with his trembling hands, and she closes her eyes to push away the painful sympathy that floods her when she recognizes her blood-stained flight suit being repaired by a needle and thread.

After a few more gentle kisses and moments of silence, Astra rests her chin upon Din’s shoulder and smiles. “Jate vaar’tur, my love.” Her voice is no louder than a soft whisper as she speaks. Good morning.

Din looks away from what he’s working on to face her. The knit in his brow loosens, and even in the darkness of the room, his gaze sparkles at the sight of her. “Hey.” Din’s voice is just as soft as Astra’s, and he leans close enough to her for a kiss that takes her breath away. His nose brushes against hers as he pulls away, his forehead resting against her the best he can manage in this position. Din’s eyes remain closed. “You should go back to sleep.”

Astra hums as if she’s truly considering the idea. “I don’t know.” She squeezes his torso with her arms still wrapped tight around him. “I feel pretty awake right now.”

Din huffs, and Astra’s at least glad he doesn’t have to feign his amusement as he turns back to what’s in his hands. She does the same, her thumbs running soothing circles over Din’s toned middle. From what she can manage to see in the room’s darkness, Din’s done a hell of a job with the fabric, though many stitches still remain before the hole caused by Gideon’s guard will fully be closed.

“I can’t believe how well you can sew in the dark.” Astra rewards him with a series of soft kisses against the side of his neck, causing him to lean into her. “That’s better than what I can do in the light.”

Din’s chest rumbles with a genuine chuckle as he shakes his head at her. “I highly doubt that, rid’ika.” He lifts his left hand for Astra to see, and when she squints her eyes, she can make out the small spots of crusted-over blood on his fingers from the needle. “See? Battle wounds.”

“Battle wounds I’d like to take care of.” Astra pulls her arms back to her sides, letting her fingernails gently rake over his skin as she does so. “C’mon. Let’s put some caf on.”

It’s only when Astra stands and eases her hands over his to take the fabric away from Din that he begins to follow her. She takes him by the hand and leads him out of their bedroom, flickering on one of the warm kitchen lights to brighten up the space. Astra only releases Din’s hand when she prepares the caf, though she’s well aware of his gaze burning through her from behind. He won’t take his eyes off her for a long time. He wants to watch her exist, to watch her breathe.

Astra understands the feeling. It’s the same one she has when she wakes from her own nightmares of an instance where she has to leave him in the fires of Nevarro, or when she fails to successfully breathe her life into him alongside the Living Waters.

Once the caf starts brewing, Astra finds the nearest medpac and eases herself onto the countertop, sitting so that her knees fold over the edge. She takes a hold of Din’s hand and guides him over to her, opening her legs enough to give him room. In sweet silence, she opens the medpac and cleans off the small beads of dried blood on Din’s fingertips. Astra gives each one a thorough check before she decides whether or not any of them need bandaging.

Din’s brow is relaxed in relief when Astra sets aside the medpac and offers him a warm smile. One of her hands wraps around Din’s torso as the other holds the back of his head, easing it upon her chest. Din’s arms hold her even tighter, clutching her in his grasp. His ear remains pressed against her heart as he listens to its rhythmic beating.

The dark hours of the morning linger in the shadows of Astra’s mind as she holds him, acting as cruel reminders of what they’ve both been through to gain this peace. The heaviest weight is that of Din’s head upon her chest, his desperation to remind himself that she’s alive.

It brings Astra back to that gut-wrenching moment on Nevarro when she tried to make him follow through on a cruel promise. It was unfair for her to ever ask that of him, even if she hadn’t known just how much he loved her yet. Thinking of where he would be if he pulled that trigger himself makes her ache.

The weight of it is too much for her to bear any longer. The only sound that fills the air is the steady drip of the caf as it brews until Astra breaks it with a soft voice, airing out the apology she’s kept close to her chest for too long.

“I never apologized for that time I made you promise to kill me.” Astra rests her cheek against the messy mass of brown waves atop his head. “Thank you for not following through with it.” She sighs and runs her thumb over the back of his head. “That was cruel of me to do to you.”

“It wasn’t cruel.” Din’s voice is just as soft as he lifts his head from her chest to face her. His hand finds the side of her face as his thumb brushes over her cheek. Din’s furrowed brow reveals his dismay with her words before he can even get his protest out. “You could never be cruel.” He nods in further reassurance. “You were just worried that Gideon would use you to hurt others. It was out of your desire to protect the innocent.”

Astra parts her lips to speak, but Din’s thumb running over them causes her to hesitate. A warm and genuine smile stretches across his own lips as his gaze searches hers.

“It’s one of the many reasons why I keep falling in love with you.”

Din moves his thumb just in time to kiss her, his mouth molding against hers in a way that feels like the very home they’re standing in. She seeks the comforting taste of him with each gentle yet passionate stroke of his tongue against hers before he pulls away, leaving her hanging on his breath that she also considers to be her own. Still, Astra smiles through the daze and keeps him close with her hands on his untrimmed jaw. “What are the other reasons?”

Din lifts his brow and gives her a once-over. “How long do you have?”

Astra’s legs hook around his waist to pull him closer. She whispers her response against his lips. “I’ve got all day.”

The corner of Din’s mouth rises in sweet satisfaction. “Good.” He kisses her, but he keeps this one brief, much to Astra’s disappointment. “But, first…” Din gives her one more firm kiss to make up for his sin of pulling himself away from her, “may I know why that memory’s been on your mind?”

Din’s gaze searches Astra’s own, as if he’ll somehow find the answer there. Astra’s fingers play with the curled ends of his hair at the nape of his neck while she considers what she wants to say. Din’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, comforting her in every moment of silence it takes for her to compose her thoughts.

Astra’s problem isn’t thinking of what to say. It’s how to say it without making Din feel guilty for something he can’t control.

“I just…” Astra exhales, her gaze falling to Din’s chest as she begins to trace his scars, “I’ve been thinking about how unfair it was for me to ask that of you while I watch you struggle with this close call.”

She bites her cheek and focuses closely on one of Din’s newer scars from his fight against Gideon’s guards.

“This has been hard enough for you on its own. If it had actually happened… and by your own hand…” Astra’s hand curls into a fist on his chest as closes her eyes and inhales a deep breath. Din gives her time as she exhales, his knuckles running over the side of her face as he waits for her. She shakes her head and reopens her eyes. “I shouldn’t be making you think about this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who asked.” Din’s hand holds Astra’s chin, encouraging her gaze to meet his again before he kisses her forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

Astra smiles, her fingers now tracing his collarbones. “You don’t have to thank me, riduur.”

“I know.” Din holds her face with both hands, his fingertips brushing along the sides of her neck as he holds her with all the sweet delicacy in the galaxy. His brow, however, furrows in a stark contrast of severity. “I also know I’m not the only one tormented by these types of memories.”

Astra fights to keep her gaze from falling at his words. Instead, she tightens her jaw, her smile slowly fading as quick flashes of all of Din’s brushes with death plague her mind.

“And I know you’re not the one who made me watch you get swallowed whole by a dragon.”

That gets Astra to relax again, and the darkness within her is instantly washed away by the laugh that tumbles from her lips. Hearing Din’s own laugh drowns her in a loving wave of both joy and relief. She blinks slowly and looks at him through her lashes, her nose brushing against his. “At least I got to see you being a badass.”

Din raises an eyebrow. His low tone matches her own. “Am I not always a badass, cyar’ika?”

Astra clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “That arrogance, love…” her hands, which have since brushed down his shoulders, give his biceps a squeeze, “you’d be in trouble if you couldn’t back it up.”

Din tilts his head. “No, I don’t think I would.” He leans close enough to brush his lips along Astra’s scar, pressing kisses so soft upon her skin that Astra has to tighten her grasp on him to ask for more. “Because even if I couldn’t back myself up, I have a badass who would do it for me.”

Astra’s grin widens when Din pulls away to face her again. Her words are solely a breath that she exhales upon his lips. “Damn right.”

Their mouths meet again, and it takes all of Astra’s resolve not to completely tangle herself up in him. She only allows her tongue that luxury, keeping all else composed for the sake of maintaining her last surprise for him that she’s kept up her sleeve. Din doesn’t make it easy, though, especially not with the way he tilts her head back to deepen the kiss in the most glorious way.

It takes every ounce of strength Astra has to pull herself away from him, though she lets her lips linger on his. He’s trapped in the sheer bliss of their connection the same way she is, but he’s fully unaware of what’s still in store. Astra gently slides her legs back together to give herself enough room to slide down between the edge of the counter and Din’s body, bringing them closer together as her arms wrap around his neck.

Astra tilts her head back, and that gesture is all it takes for Din to make her neck his refuge. The moment the warmth of his lips meets her skin, she wants to melt to the floor and completely abandon her self-control, but she grasps to the last shred of sanity she has as she manages to speak to him through her pleased sighs. “You know,” she bites her lip to both resist another sigh and to give herself the strength to lie, “I don’t think you kiss me here enough.”

“Yeah?” Din’s response is breathy, though his sincerity still makes itself known as he goes on between his passionate kisses. “First of all, I’m sorry, because you deserve to have all your needs met.” That almost gets Astra to break and tell the truth, but thankfully, he’s able to draw a sigh of his name from her lips instead. “Second of all, what makes you say that?”

“Because.” Astra turns herself around so that her back is facing him, and she reaches to make sure the nape of her neck is visible to him. “You haven’t noticed this yet.”

Though the absence of Din’s lips on her neck is heavily felt, the warmth of his hands on either side of her neck makes up for it. His thumbs brush over the skin there, no doubt admiring the three Mando’a letters that have very recently been permanently marked there. The breath of pure awe, disbelief, and love Din holds is audible, making Astra smile to herself before he tries to speak. “It’s…”

“Your name.” Astra confirms his thought and beams as she looks at him over her shoulder. His brown gaze is sparkling in Astra’s favorite way, when his eyes shine with awestruck adoration and affection—and certainly have none of the darkness that plagued his slumber any longer. “I had it done a little while ago.” Din’s gaze falls to his fingers again as he brushes them along her marked skin. “I managed to copy the lettering from your Mando’a book when you weren’t looking.”

Din shakes his head, a sweet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Warmth floods over Astra much like the heat of a fire would, replacing any of the lingering cold chill from both his and her own difficult memories. Din’s voice is breathless when he finally speaks again. “Oh, Astra.” He lets out a lighthearted sigh. “Ner kar’ta, ner oyay, ner rid’ika…”

Astra finds his hands and laces his fingers through her own, smiling to herself when their beskar rings kiss each other’s skin as she wraps his arms around her from behind. “I can’t see that part of my body, but you can, and you’ve made it your refuge. I got this as a thank you for protecting and loving me in ways I never thought I’d get to know.”

Din gives her hands a gentle squeeze, urging her eyes to meet his own. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. It’s a privilege, cyar’ika, to get to love and protect you.” His lips find her forehead, and places a lingering kiss there so meaningful it makes Astra’s face burn. “But thank you for thinking of me in this way. It… means so much more than I could ever say.”

Astra blinks sweetly at him and considers her next words, but Din continues before she can speak.

“You already know your name is permanently marked on my mind.” Din’s mouth lowers to Astra’s neck again, his lips praising the art on her skin in a way that makes her own lips part before she can stop them. He goes on between his passionate kisses. “And on my heart.” Din pulls her closer, causing Astra to lean against him. His kisses move closer to her shoulder, the closest he can get with the material of his shirt still hanging on her frame. “And on my tongue.”

Din’s hands break free from Astra’s own to spin her around so that she’s facing him once again. They then take a firm grasp on the sides of her face as he pulls it to his own, proving to her just how much his tongue loves her. Astra sighs into his mouth, a sweet breath that he gladly takes in as he holds her as close as possible. Her hands wrap around the back of his neck, keeping him in place exactly where he belongs: right up against her.

They only break apart when they’ve both lost breath, and Astra’s too lost within their intoxicating haze to think of anything else except Din. Her hands run down his skin, but her eyes never stray from his. Din’s gaze does the same, and his face is set in breathtaking sincerity as he nods dutifully at her. “Your name will always be marked on me, anywhere you want.”

Astra’s fingers find Din’s waistband, and they hook on it as Astra’s lips spread in a mischievous smile. “Anywhere?” Her voice is breathy, and her fingers test the fabric.

Din stops her with a quick grasp on her wrist, though he remains gentle. Astra can tell the motion is one of self control rather than unreciprocated desire, mostly by the way his brown eyes burn with the very same flame of need that sits low in her stomach. “Anywhere.”

Din composes himself with a deep breath, his gaze scanning the room as his hand brings Astra’s back towards his chest. She sets it upon the warmth of his skin and feels the drumming of his heart underneath her hand.

“As much as I’d love to prove that by taking you right here on our counter…” Din takes another steady breath and gains the faith to meet Astra’s gaze again. She softens at the true care and concern he holds for her there. “I don’t want to wake the kids up, and I'd also love to enjoy our caf together.”

Astra’s hand wraps around the back of his neck again. “That sounds perfect.” She gives him one last kiss before making a move for the caf that’s finally finished brewing. “I keep forgetting we don’t have to steal every moment we have alone together.”

Din, unable to stay away from her for long, wraps his arms around her from behind as he chuckles. “You won’t hear me complaining.” He rests his chin on her head as she pours the caf. “Keeps me in shape, too.”

Astra rolls her eyes as she turns around to hand Din his mug. She holds hers between both her hands and looks at him through her lashes. “Are you sure it’s not all those push-ups you keep doing with Zo on your back?”

Din lifts his brow and draws a sip from his caf. “You say that like you don’t enjoy watching me do it.”

Astra gives her head a fond shake. “You just like watching me watch you.”

Din shrugs with a smirk spread across his eager lips. He sets down his caf for a moment and does the same for Astra before he takes her and sets her back onto the counter. Leaving enough space for himself beside her, he hops up to sit at her side, redistributing their mugs of caf as they face the kitchen’s viewport. Astra’s chest floods with warmth when one of Din’s hands takes hers, and she leans her head against his arm as they watch the Nevarro sunrise.

Their peace lasts long enough for them to finish their caf together and freshen up, and by the time they finish, Astra can hear their children stirring. She beams the entire way to their bedroom, smiling even wider when the door slides open and reveals the sight of Zora’s joyful face.

“Mama!” Zora all but squeals, her messy curls bouncing on her head as she tries to get out of bed on her own.

“Good morning, angel!” Astra is just as enthusiastic as her daughter when she steps forward to take her in her arms. Through a flurry of kisses, Astra speaks again. “Jate vaar’tur.”

“Ahhh… tay…” Zora’s brow is furrowed in focus. “Vrrr… ter.”

“That’s it, Zo!” Astra rewards her with a kiss to her head. “Keep practicing to show Papa. Okay?”

Zora goes on, heeding her mother’s words as she babbles to herself. Meanwhile, Astra walks over to Grogu, who’s been patiently waiting in his own bed. Grogu coos as Astra approaches, his little hand reaching out for her finger as he nuzzles it against his cheek.

“Good morning, Grogu.” Astra’s voice is full of nothing but warmth as she runs her hand over his ear. “How did you sleep?”

Grogu nods. “Ah.”

Astra smiles at his attempt to speak. “I’m glad to hear it.” She sets Zora down onto her feet and picks up Grogu instead, holding onto Zora’s hand as they head for the door. “Let’s go see Papa.”

The excitement radiating off both her children and her husband is evident before they can even make their way through the threshold. As soon as they step into their cabin’s living area, Din is waiting for them in the kitchen, his smile growing just as wide as Zora’s does as she breaks away from Astra to waddle towards him. “Papa!”

“There she is!” Din’s already knelt down with his arms open to greet her. He pulls her into his chest and stands back to his feet, his eyes closing as he kisses the side of her face. “Good morning, baby girl.”

Zora’s voice is muffled by his tunic when she responds. “‘Ah… tay… verrr… ter.”

Din lets out a sweet gasp as he lifts Zora’s head from his shoulder, looking at her with childlike wonder. “Your Mando’a is getting so much better, Zozo!”

Astra smiles and looks down at Grogu in her arms, who’s also gazing eagerly at his father. He huffs a few breaths before he speaks loud enough for Din to hear. “Da!”

Din looks past Zora to find Grogu with a smile that somehow widens even more. “Grogu, buddy, there you are!” He sets Zora on one hip and takes Grogu with the other arm. Astra has to cross her arms over her chest to contain the pure love that flows from it when she watches Grogu’s fingers close around one of Din’s. “That was even better than yesterday, pal.”

Astra walks around them and enters the kitchen, taking a quick look at what they have for their morning meal. “What are you all in the mood for?”

Din follows her, keeping the kids with him as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He sets their children onto the counter and cups her cheek. “We’ve got it.” Din kisses her forehead, his fingertips lingering on the Mando’a lettering on the back of her neck as he pulls away. “You deserve a relaxing morning.”

Astra raises her brow even as she smiles. “Can I at least stick around?”

Din’s eager to nod at her, and he sets her in place alongside the kids. “We’re gonna need a sampler.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t trust my cooking yet.”

Astra laughs and lifts a hand to pat his cheek. “It’s getting better, riduur.”

Din shakes his head and chuckles with her. “That’s just because we got used to rations.”

Zora laughs with her parents, even if she doesn’t understand why. Astra takes their daughter and sets her on her lap, watching as Din starts to set up. It’s a nice change in pace to see his brow furrowed in focus on something like this rather than yet another battle. There will no doubt be more to come, even some that Astra won’t be joining him on, but at least they have this, too.

Before Din can fully get started, Astra’s hand catches his arm, stopping him as he passes her by. One attentive look from him wins Astra the opportunity to hold the back of his neck and bring him close for a short yet sweet kiss, a gesture that relishes in all the same thoughts Astra had just been musing upon. When she pulls away, she stays close and speaks softly. “I love you.”

Din returns her smile. “I love you, too.” He adds one more kiss. “That’s why I have to get you fed.”

Astra huffs and shakes her head to herself. A lot of things have changed, and will continue to, ever since they made their home here, but Din’s devotion to her will always be the same—and vice versa. That’s the only thought she needs to be at full peace, no matter what else the galaxy has to offer.

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din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr @pigeonmama

#i want what they have fr like. dang.#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x oc #security #dindjarindiaries

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 10 months ago

Text

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: First steps to friendship

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I hope everyone had a good week. I just want to put this out there as someone who works in the medical field, please be kind to doctors, nurses, technicians, receptions, and cleaning crews.

Just be kind in general. I had a rough week with a very rude patient. It might not seem like much but after a while it takes a toll. So to everyone and anyone who needs to hear this, thank you for all the hard work you do.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: discussions of lunch, trying to avoid isolation, mentions of past trauma (blink and you'll miss it), discussions of being dirty (physically), possible mud (use your imagination). If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 909 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER NINE

As we watched Taika and Misty munching away, it made me remember we needed to eat too, “Din, what do you want for lunch? There’s some leftovers from last night’s dinner or I could make us a sandwich and salad …”

“You know…” he cut her off, realizing he needed to make more of an effort with her.

Sure she was his employee, but he was also the only person she knew out here. Cobb and Fennec were always busy in town and the surrounding areas, and Fennec had even less time than Cobb, being Boba’s right hand. Then there was Grogu, and as fun and enjoyable he was for a little kid, it wasn’t the same as having someone around her own age to hang out with.

He nodded to himself, resolving he needed to do better, “You did a really good job today, Ann. Looking after Bessie, milking her, noticing there was something off about her. You could’ve easily brushed it off, or not even bothered to tell me about it. But you did, and because you did, I can tell you there will be a new addition to the ranch. Nerfs have a faster gestation than most quadrupeds. We should have a new addition in a month or two depending on if it’s a bull or calf. Not to mention you fed the nunas and collected the eggs, even though I know it freaks you out a little. I even noticed that you stamped the eggs with the date, and put them away. Cleaned out the pens as best you could … before I got here.” He smirked.

I tilted my head to look at him, resting my head on my arms that were propped on the railing of the corral. I didn’t say much, simply looking at him as I narrowed my eyes at Din, “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me, or if you’re being genuine”

He chuckled, as he glanced over to her, shaking his head. “Genuine, I’m being genuine,” he turned back to look at Taika and Misty, “plus, I owe you for this morning.”

I smirked, focusing back on the horses, “So … does this mean, I’ll get a pay bump?”

“Ha! No.” He stood stretching, “However, I do believe, your good work today, and for my …”

“Assery?”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Words aren’t words, until you start using them more often”

Din shook his head laughing, “Anyway, I do believe this entitles you to lunch on me. How about we go into town for lunch? I know a good restaurant.”

“Oh, um … yeah, I guess…”

He hadn’t expected that reaction, “Do you not want to?” Din glanced over to her.

A thousand scenarios ran through my mind, my biggest concern was bringing danger to this small town, but … Fennec went through a lot to cover my tracks so I could make it here. I couldn’t keep hiding on the ranch like I was. I needed to stop letting my ex dictate terms. I needed to start living again.

I closed my eyes, and reminded myself, I wasn’t that same weak girl, he initially married.

“No. No.” I focused on the landscape before, taking in the beautiful mountains, the crisp air. I was far away from him. “I’m up for going into town. After all, I need to see more of this area, get to know the town and people. As beautiful as this ranch is, I can’t exactly be holed up here forever.”

“No. You can’t” he smiled.

I smirked, as my eyes glanced down, looking over my dirty outfit, “Maybe I should change? Take a shower at least?” My hand subconsciously went to my forehead and hair, wiping away some of the sweat and dirt.

Din shrugged, “You can if you want to but there’s no need, we’re going to a diner, not some fancy five-star high-end Coruscant restaurant. Plus this is a farming town, we’re all used to being a little dirty.”

“Hmmm … Well, I guess, if you’re going like that” I motioned to his shirt, “then I guess I can go like this” I motioned to my less than stellar outfit.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He looked down, sure there was dirt, hay, dust, some grass strains, and something … he hoped but wasn’t entirely sure was mud. The more he thought about it, the more he changed his opinion, “You know, now that you mention it, maybe a change of shirt wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

I chuckled, nodding in agreement, as he tried to flick a nondescript dark matter off his shirt towards me. I squealed, flinching away from him, increasing the distance between us. “Hey …” I held up my finger as I moved further away, “I’ll have you know, I have enough of my own questionable dark matter on me, I don’t need to take on yours, too.” I shouted over to him, when I was far enough away and headed back into the house.

Din watched as she headed back to the house, slipping off her boots before she went in.

He stood in the open glancing over to the pens, the horses grazing, and Bessie chewing away as she stood there looking at him, and he couldn’t remember a time he felt this content from cleaning the pens and grooming Taika and Misty. He shook his head, pushing his thoughts aside as he headed into the house to change.

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Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal @sprout-fics @liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

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handspunyarns · 7 months ago

Text

You Were Marked: Day Twenty-six point Five.

pairing: din djarin x plus-size fem!O/C

word count: 8.1K

chapter summary: Din and Marathel reminisce, Grogu tries to play matchmaker again, Din removes his helmet several times, and the Crest gets back to Unmanarall.

warnings:  angst, heartbreak, mention of mental breakdowns, mental illness, and vomit, English and Mando’a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

Marathel opened her eyes and briefly panicked; she could see nothing at all. There was also what felt like a knee pressed against her backside and a hand draped over her waist. Then she remembered that Din had turned off all the lights on the ship, and he was asleep beside her. Marathel sighed. It seemed sucking him off put him into a deep enough sleep that she should be able to get up without disturbing him. She carefully scooted away and then stood up. She did not hear any movement from Din. I hope he stays asleep; I desperately need the vac tube.

Marathel gathered her blanket and slid her feet along the floor, reaching out in the darkness. Her fingertips touched the wall where she believed the door for his quarters was. She went down that wall and discovered the cockpit ladder and the alcove with the vac tube. Marathel tucked the blanket under her armpits, letting it drape down her front to the floor as she pulled down her pants and backed up into the vac tube. The lack of a seat made sitting uncomfortable, so she tried to be as quick as possible. As she searched in the darkness for the cleaning paper storage, she heard a door slide open and she held her breath.

The next thing she knew, she could see Grogu standing in front of her, and hovering above his little hand was a small glowing ball of light, dim as one of her glow-worm lanterns but enough to see by. “Grogu,” she whispered. “Thank you for the light, but … I need privacy right now. Please turn around.” Grogu nodded and turned around, but still held up the light ball for her. She quickly finished but decided against toggling the vac tube —she didn’t want to wake Din with its loud whooshing noise.

Marathel stepped out from the little alcove and realized that with Grogu’s little light, she could now see Din, lying on his side, facing away from her. She could see the back of his head, his wavy hair, a large half-healed wound, and one ear. Gasping, she turned away and closed her eyes. As much as she wanted to see his face, peeking at him while he slept was not how she wanted that to happen. Marathel stole a look at Grogu, who was looking back at her again. He pointed at Din. “No, love, I won’t look,” she whispered. Grogu grunted and looked downcast. Marathel turned her back to Din and she moved down the opposite wall to the basin so she could quickly wash her hands. She carefully moved back to her blankets and lay down as she had before, facing the swinging empty boxes. Grogu stood in front of her, pouted and pointed at Din again. “No, Grogu, I won’t look at Patu. That would be … cheating.” Grogu looked so crestfallen that Marathel relented. “But … if you can put his helmet back on without waking Patu, then you can snuggle between us and we can … cwtch, like I promised before, when you had an upset tummy, remember?” Cooing with delight, Grogu lifted his little hands and concentrated; Marathel heard a shuffling noise behind her. Grogu clambered over her, and she carefully turned over to see Din as she knew him best. Why can’t the sight of his helmet, the sound of his voice be ENOUGH for me, she cried in her mind.

But then, Marathel had to look down and away from Din; even with the helmet on, it was suddenly all too much for her. I want to see him, yet I can barely look at him, I can’t stand his touch anymore. Even so, I crave his arms around me, but if he does that, I think I may scream! Oh, she was so mixed up, and her mind hurt her so much! She cautiously laid her hand against his chest, still without his cuirass, his pauldrons and cuisses off as well.

Din sniffed sharply and grunted. “Mesh’la?”

“I’m here. So is Grogu.” My family.

Still half-asleep, Din asked, “Why is my helmet back on?”

“Grogu did that, so we can … cwtch without breaking your Creed.”

Din looked up at the pale ball of light hovering over them. “Grogu is doing that, too, right? I’m not dreaming?”

“You’re not dreaming.”

“Good.” Din stroked Grogu’s ear. “Glad you could join us, kid.” Looking up at Marathel’s face, he said, “Cyar’e … you didn’t sneak away for once. You usually escape from me when we’re sleeping together.”

Marathel swallowed. “I … I promised Grogu that we could cwtch, all of us. When he had the upset tummy, remember?” She looked away. “I promised him.”

Din frowned, wondering why she seemed so … well, extra nervous. Pensive. “Cwtch. Does that mean … cuddle?”

Marathel was surprised to hear such a childlike and soft word coming from this man of metal and weapons. Searching for the words, she said, “It’s more … how you feel when you cuddle. Safe, warm …”

“Loved?”

“If you like … yes.” She sighed. “It’s like rwy’n di’rugar. Meant for only Diwhyns and children.”

“I don’t mind. I would love to be cwtched by you … If that’s how to say it in your Oldtalk.”

Marathel half-shrugged. “Close enough.”

Din caressed Marathel’s cheek, and he noticed her flinching slightly from his touch. “Close enough is only good for running beast shoes and hand grenades. What’s the proper way to say it?”

“To say, ‘I want to be … cwtched by you’ … um … Ga’yl fi cwmigduhwrtch gen’nyd chi. We cwtch, we have cwmigduhwrtch before, we will be cwmeilgilwrtchydd later.”

Din raised an eyebrow under his helmet. Dank ferrik, that Oldtalk is one fucked-up language. “Is koo-mee-ihl … forget it, I can’t possibly pronounce that …” Marathel smiled a little. “… is it all right if we cwtch?”

“I promised Grogu.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Marathel.” She continued to look away from Din. “Mesh’la … you don’t want me to touch you, do you?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want me to, truly, I do. You’re forcing yourself to be near me, aren’t you? You forced yourself to … put your mouth on me earlier. Why did you do that, Marathel?”

Her tears spilled over, and Grogu crawled over to snuggle under her chin, trying to soothe her. “It’s what you wanted.” She dropped her chin to kiss Grogu’s head. “It’s all I know how to do. It’s all I’m good for.”

“No, cyar’e, you’re so much …”

“I only gave you what you wanted. Were you not pleased?”

“Ner kar’ta … you please the living shab out of me. You are magnificent in your ability to please me. But I didn’t want you to … I did, yes, but not just …” Din wanted so much to hold her hand, but he was afraid to upset her more, so he held Grogu’s hand instead. “This, right here, right now, is what I want. With you and Grogu, the three of us, together. Cyar’e, you said the days we spent together in your little hut were the happiest in your life. They were the happiest days in my life too, and right now, I will say anything, try anything, to make you change your mind. We have so little time left.”

Marathel’s face fell. “How long?”

He looked at the tiny monitor on his vambrace, then she heard him swallow. “Two, three hours.”

Marathel closed her eyes in despair. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed in the artificial environment of the ship. She looked up at the little ball of light that Grogu had conjured; it was growing smaller and dimmer as the little boy grew drowsy, curled up between them. Marathel looked back down at Grogu, and she moved her hand on him slightly, just enough that her index finger lay over Din’s. Even though he was wearing gloves, the pressure of her finger on his nearly made his heart explode, the simple touch giving him almost more pleasure than her mouth did on him a couple hours earlier. Marathel asked, “How many days …?”

“Twenty-six.”

Marathel blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I met you twenty-six days ago.”

“Twenty-six? Is that all? But it seems …”

“… Like much longer, doesn’t it?” Like forever, but in a good way that it makes me wonder what in blue fuck I was doing with my life before you threw a rock at my head, he thought. She said nothing. Din continued, “You lost a few days in the middle, my wounded acorn. But I can tell you what day any event happened since I met you.” Marathel looked at him dubiously. “Go ahead, ask me.”

“What day did I throw eggs at you?”

“Day four.”

“What day did you puke up my clam stew?”

“Day six.”

Marathel smiled. “Hmmm. What day did I puke up the Mist?”

“Day two.” She laughed. “I remember things. My father was an engineer; I think I inherited his brain.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it; I don’t know what an engineer is.” After taking a breath, she asked, “What day did you kiss me?”

“I kissed the top of your head very early in the morning on day seven.”

“That doesn’t count,” said Marathel, rolling her eyes.

“Good to know,” said Din with a small chuckle. “I kissed you the first time on day ten, I think. Possibly eleven. I had a concussion at the time.”

“… the first time?”

Din sighed. “Your lungs were filling with fluid, and I was sure I was losing you. You were unconscious, and I’m sorry. You were dying right in front of me. But Grogu made you breathe again. I think he kept you alive, moved air in and out of your lungs, kept your heart beating, until we got you to Tatooine.”

Marathel looked down to Grogu, who was nearly in a deep sleep, his ears twitching. She ran her fingertip along the edge of his ear and the little boy sighed. The little light ball was almost completely extinguished by now. She looked back up into Din’s visor. “Din, I wasn’t asking you how many days we’d known each other.”

“No?”

“No.”

Din tilted his helmet. “What were you going to ask?”

Marathel bit her lip nervously, her face flushing pink. “Before I ask that … once this light goes out … would you … kiss me again?”

“Are you sure? You want me to …?”

“We have so little time, as you say. And ... and your kiss was one of the sweetest things I’d ever felt. I think I deserve that memory, at least.” Din carefully reached up and touched her cheek; Marathel’s eyes fell closed with a sigh that was part whimper. Din watched the tiny light bubble wink away, leaving them in darkness. He quickly removed his helmet and touched his lips to hers; they couldn’t get too close with Grogu between them. Din kept his lips closed, his teeth apart, his touch soft and unmoving, wanting to try to kiss her the way Cobb tried to teach him, but he was too nervous, afraid of scaring her.

Marathel, meanwhile, didn’t know how to kiss a man, so she mimicked Din’s kiss and wondered if this method was what Cobb had taught him. Marathel dared to touch his cheek again, as she had when he’d kissed her the first (second) time, and she felt him jump just a little at her touch. She then ran her hand into his hair, soft, wavy, a bit sweaty (it must be so warm in that helmet), and she felt his quiet moan against her lips as much as she heard it emanate from his throat, just as Cobb had when she did a similar thing. Is it about me — or about the touch? Could it be anyone touching him?

Din’s lips left hers, and he leaned forward to touch her forehead with his. “I don’t kiss very well,” he admitted.

“I don’t know how to kiss at all.”

“You did just fine, mesh’la,” he said, smiling. I only wish we could learn how together. After a moment, Din said, “If I were wearing my helmet, this right here, our foreheads touching, this would be considered a kiss.”

“Really?” Marathel felt his slight nod against her forehead. “You’ve been kissing me in the Mandalorian way this whole time, and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s called a keldabe kiss.”

“You Mandalorians don’t let people get close to you at all, do you?” Her hand remained in his hair, and her thumb stroked the upper edge of his ear.

“No,” he said with a shudder, her gentle touch making all of his hair stand on end.

“How lonely you must have …” Before Marathel could finish her sentence, Din kissed her again, harder this time, more like the time he’d kissed her before she went away to the Reconstructionists, and this time, it was Marathel who softly moaned, the tiny vibration making Din nearly lose control altogether. Their lips broke apart, and Marathel asked breathlessly, “What day did you kiss me the second time?”

“Day fifteen. The same day you went to the market with Cobb. The same day Grogu called you Mama the first time.”

“Busy day,” remarked Marathel.

“Very busy. You got to pet a sheep. You got your first pair of shoes.”

“I puked blood on Cobb’s boots.”

“Okay, I don’t need a recap of every vomiting incident,” grumbled Din as Marathel quietly giggled. “I got good and drunk that day, too.”

“Drunk?”

“Like you get if you have too many dreamberries.”

“Oh. Deffdonyn.”

“If you say so,” said Din with a chuckle.

“Why in Frith did you do that?”

“Well, I’d just kissed the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, then told her that I loved her. My boy suddenly started calling her Mama and had a screaming meltdown because she had to leave for who knows how long to try to keep her from dying and I didn’t know if we’d ever see her again. Cobb thought I’d had a tough day.”

“Oh, you had a tough day. Hmm.” Marathel continued to lightly drag her fingernails through the short hairs at Din’s temple, giving him goosebumps all over. “So, it was all Cobb’s doing? What did you men discuss?”

“Oh, the usual. Women and relative breast sizes and what a chickenshit tymffod I was for telling you I love you and then running away.”

“Relative breast sizes?” asked Marathel, her tone slightly snippy.

“Well, yes,” said Din with an embarrassed shrug.

She sighed. “You men. Born with your hands on your penis and looking for a tit to suck.”

Din laughed. “My buir — my foster father, the Mandalorian who rescued me as a child — oh, he would have liked you so much. He once told me that men spend nine months trying to get out of the womb and the rest of their lives trying to get right back in.” Marathel laughed as well, then they both went quiet for a long time. “This is when we’re at our best, ma’mwsh ha’laa, just like this. You make me laugh. No one has made me laugh as much as you. Before Grogu, before you, I was so alone … I had no one and nothing to live for. Grogu has given me a purpose in my life that I didn’t know I needed. Knowing you has given me a joy that I didn’t know I could have.”

Din heard Marathel sob before she hissed, “Joy? What joy can I give you? I will bring you nothing but shame and regret!”

“How could you possibly …”

“Who I am! What I’ve done!” cried Marathel.

“You think you’re the only one with a horrible past? What was done to you was not your choice. But I have killed innocent people, not because they did me wrong, but for money. I have murdered …” Din’s voice gave out; he still could not admit his worst sins out loud. “I have done the most terrible things, all of my own free will.”

Marathel was baffled. “But … I thought … Mandalorians were honorable people …”

“Life can’t always be honorable, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, not if you’re trying to survive in this galaxy.” Din swallowed. “Believe me, I’m not trying to excuse my past. It’s a dark, dark time I’m trying to deal with. What I do know is that since I’ve met you, I’ve finally been able to sleep at night …” Marathel scoffed. “… not just because of that, my mesh’la … but I think some of my best days in my adult life were spent sitting on your steps drinking tea and watching you and Grogu play that running game of yours.

“You made us a family, ner kar’ta, you welcomed us into your home and gave us your love and became a mother to Grogu.”

“There are others better suited to do that for you …” She began to push him away.

“No, Marathel, you’re the one I want!” Beginning to panic, he gripped her face in both hands. “Don’t fight me on this, not now, not when we have so little time. Please. If you’re going to leave me, let me have these last few hours with you close to me.”

“Din, I …”

“Please, ner kar’ta …” He kissed her brow. “I know it’s hard for you, having my hands on you like this … How could it not, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, with what was done to you? And you think you must do this, that you must obey.” He kissed her lips again. “And I’m sorry I keep touching you, keep holding you so close, but I … don’t know what else to do! If only you’d tell me that I’m not leaving you behind on that planet you came from!”

“But, Din, I …”

“Please, cyar’e …”

“No, Din, just … hush, please, just for a moment! In the name of Frith!” Din went quiet and pulled his face back, letting go of her cheeks, anxious, dreading her continued rejection. “Din, what I originally wanted to ask was, how many days has it been since I left the Reconstructionists and returned to Tatooine?”

“How many … five, six days. Why?”

“I need to repeat the treatment, to make me not bleed? I have a set of injections. But … I need help.”

“Of course, mesh’la. I’ll … please, though …”

“What?” Din didn’t answer; Marathel only felt his warm breath on her face. “Frith save us,” she muttered as she leaned forward and kissed him, and Din felt her full lips suck briefly on his lower lip, a motion that both thrilled Din and scared the shab out of him, for he was uncertain if he should do it back. “Din, please. Put your helmet on, turn on a light.” Din muttered apologies as he replaced his helmet and turned the overhead lights on low. So easily distracted … that can’t be good for a Mandalorian, she thought wearily as she pulled out her bag from under the hanging carbonite shells. She found one set of the injections and lay back down on her side, facing Din. She held up the syringes. “Red cap first, then we wait a little while, then the purple cap, then the black cap.”

“Where am I injecting these?”

Marathel patted the side of her neck, saying, “Here.”

Din carefully cleaned the side of Marathel’s neck with the swab she gave him and uncapped the first hypo. He placed it on her skin, asking, “Will it hurt?”

“Not so much … it’s just strange.”

Din triggered the hypo, which gave the injection with a small pft of air. “All right?”

Marathel felt the instant cold and grimaced. “Hold my hand. Please.” He did, giving her hand a squeeze. Marathel closed her eyes and said, “Oh, it’s starting already.”

“What is?”

“It’s like spiky pebbles are rolling about inside my arms.”

“That sounds horrible.”

Marathel smiled. “Cobb said the exact same thing.”

“Did he, now?”

“Yes.” Marathel opened her eyes. “He also said that you were thinking of me.”

“I was. Every moment, practically, ner kart’a.” The spiky-pebble feeling grew worse, and she began breathing fast. “What is it?”

“It’s like spines now, long spines, trying to spear through my flesh,” whimpered Marathel.

Din held her hands and stroked her knuckles with his thumbs. “I have you, mesh’la. You’re safe.”

“Oh, it feels awful, so much worse than the other times … it feels horrible …” Weeping now, Marathel pulled her hands away from Din and covered her face. “Why did I ever tell you what was done to me? Why did I ever ask you to stay with me? Why didn’t you just leave? Why did I have to find out what I am?!” She sobbed for a while into her hands, then sniffled, and said, “Can you … do the second injection now?” Wishing he could comfort her more, Din applied the purple-capped hypo, then found a cloth in his pocket and dried the tears from her face.

“Oh, I forgot how this one burns,” muttered Marathel, gritting her teeth, doing her best to ride out the burning sensation as it coursed through her. After some time, her breathing slowed, and her eyelids lifted to gaze into Din’s visor as she searched for his brown eyes in the dark expanse. Marathel lifted one of her hands and placed it on Din’s helmet where his cheek would be. “Din? Cwryiad? I’m already getting so sleepy.”

“You’re going to sleep?” No, please, we have so little time.

“I’m sorry … the treatment … makes me sleep … Din, I’m so scared, scared about going back.”

“Then why go back, mesh’la?”

Marathel’s eyelids were heavy, and she fought to keep talking. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I lied to you about … what would happen to me in the Hold. I’m sorry for not telling you about the Dahls, and my connection with them. I always felt so safe with you those nights you were there with me. Even after …” Marathel’s hand slid from Din’s helmet to his neck, close to his jaw. Her thumb reached under the edge of his helmet, brushing against his sparse whiskers there. I deserve to have that much of him. A few kisses and a couple of touches. “Oh, it’s becoming so hard to talk. I’m sure I’m no longer making any sense,” she mumbled. “You think I’m going back to Unmanarall to punish myself … ease my guilt over who I am. But I don’t know why anymore … I only know that I must go and there is no point in objecting … it doesn’t matter, because I must go back. And you must let me go.”

“No …” Din moaned.

Their words tumbled over each other's, Marathel’s in her exhaustion, Din’s in his despair.

“You must …”

“I’ll stay there with you, Marathel …”

“No, Din, you must redeem yourself … Living Waters …”

“Then I’ll come back …”

“No, cwryiad, go live your life with Grogu …”

“Not without you!”

“This is the way,” mumbled Marathel.

“This is the way,” Din responded automatically. “Marathel, I love you.”

Marathel’s eyes closed, her brow furrowed with despair. “I know.” She took a deep breath, opened her eyes again. “Promise me …” Marathel groaned , forcing herself to remain awake with all the energy she could muster. She pulled his face close to hers, her hands up under the edge of his helmet, holding his jaw firmly and staring into the darkness of his visor. “Promise me. Do not take vengeance on the Bishop, or anyone in the Hold. They are not worth your anger. And I’m not worth your pity. Promise me this… and I promise you… I won’t kill myself. I will live out the rest of my days alone with you and Grogu in my heart.” Marathel wished she could see his eyes. She gave Din a little shake. “Promise me!”

“I promise you, ner kart’a. This I vow.” He turned his head to kiss the heel of her thumb.

Apparently satisfied, Marathel said, “Last injection … then you can hold me while I sleep … and I won’t fight you. I won’t escape. Maybe I’ll dream of how happy you made me. Keep me safe … while you can …” Her words drifted off, and Marathel’s eyes closed as she went limp, already sleeping deeply.

“Mesh’la? Ma’mwsh ha’laa?” Marathel did not respond. He applied the last hypo, the black-capped one. Damn it, Marathel, our last hours together, and you’re gonna be sleeping?

Grogu began to stir; there was too much noise and angst going on for him to fully fall asleep, so he woke up and leaned against Din’s chest.

Patu was very sad. Mama was sad too, but now at least the dark inside of Mama’s head was quiet. The dark inside Mama’s head kept trying to say bad things to Mama all the time. Bad things that made Mama hurt inside. Grogu was glad that the dark inside Mama’s head was letting Mama sleep. Grogu knew Patu was sad about Mama sleeping. But Grogu also knew that Mama was still so hurt, and Mama needed to sleep. Grogu was sad, too.

Grogu sighed. Din patted Grogu’s belly, swallowing, trying to keep his tears in check. “Hey, little bub, us grown-ups are keeping you awake, huh? I tried to keep Mama awake too, but it didn’t work. Mama is too tired. Is that something you can fix?” Grogu whined softly. “I guess not. It wasn’t fair to ask you anyway; sorry, kid.” Din sighed. “I think, though, that if I’m going to spend the next couple hours holding on to both of you, I need to get comfortable.”

Din pulled Marathel close to his side, dragging her by her blanket pallet. He carefully maneuvered her so her head was on his shoulder, and she was curled against his side with his arm wrapped around her. Din patted his chest, inviting Grogu to lay on top of him, which Grogu did with a happy squeak. There we go, he thought. Got my woman, got my boy.

Then Marathel did something he didn’t expect: she sighed in her sleep and snuggled tighter against him, throwing her arm across his waist, and sliding her leg over one of his. Din held his breath for a moment, and then he reached to hold her hand that lay on top of him. So wonderful, thought Din. Only one thing would make this perfect.

As if Grogu had heard his thoughts, Din watched as Marathel’s hair lifted into the air like a veil caught in a gentle wind, fanning out over Din and Grogu in a blanket. Din lifted his head to look at Grogu; the child’s large eyes gazed back up at him. “You too, huh?” Din chuckled. “I like how you think, kid; I think I’ll keep you.” Grogu burbled as he wrapped a lock of Marathel’s hair around his hand.

Din basked in the perfection of this moment. So this is what it means to cwtch. A soft, beautiful woman curled up beside him. His child on his chest. So little time. So little time. Din swallowed the tears in his throat and began talking out loud, the way he’d taken to when Grogu had appeared on the scene. “Kid, I’ve been thinking … Maybe the only way for Mama to get better is for Mama to let herself get better. And she can’t ... do that right now. Maybe Mama can get better on the planet she came from. I guess I have to let her try.

“You know, you’re doing a much better job of dealing with this than I am. Maybe you can see how this might help her. Maybe ... you understand, better than I can, that she needs to do this. I just haven’t figured out yet ... how I’m going to handle her being gone. What I’m going to do without her. Will you be able to help me with that?” Grogu reached up under Din’s helmet, pressing his tiny hand against Din’s chin. Instantly, Din felt his anxiety go down by about a hundred points. “Thanks, buddy. You’re really good at that.

“Kid, have I ever told you about how Mandalorian people get married? Married is when two people who really love each other decide that they’re going to live together all the time … just like we did with Marathel on her planet. When a Mandalorian wants to marry another, they say together, ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.’ Of course, they wouldn’t say it in Basic, they’d say it in Mando’a, which ... goes like this ...” Din lifted his helmet, and looked down at the top of Marathel’s head. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” he recited against her hair, and then he kissed her softly. “Mama would have to say it back for it to really count, though. But for now, kid ... this counts to me.”

Din lifted his head to speak to Grogu directly. “Oh, um … Don’t tell Mama I did that. I’ll let Mama know when she wakes up.” Maybe. Maybe not. Din replaced his helmet and lay back, waiting for the alarm that would come far too soon, the alarm that would tell him the Crest had arrived at Unmanarall.

Din was unsure whether he slept or not as he counted down the remaining minutes in hyperspace. Perhaps he did sleep. He’d slept a lot on this trip, which was unusual for him. He hadn’t been blowing smoke earlier: since meeting Marathel, he’d been able to sleep. He knew he was awake right now, though.

Marathel hadn’t left his side. She’d jerked a couple times, causing her knee to knock him in the crotch, but not hard enough to matter. She must have dreaming at some point; she muttered something in her language, then squeezed him tight. Her hand laying on his ribs had twitched often, and several of her fingers seemed to have a permanent tremor. She’d also passed gas once, a little bubble of a fart that made Din chuckle. The intimacies of a relationship, he thought, then wondered if relationship was the right word. He then decided that considering the sparring, vomiting, injuries, laughter, tears, and the … sexual activity that went between the two of them, relationship was the correct word indeed. Dank ferrik, I even made her breakfast once. He hadn’t ever made breakfast for X'ian, but then she preferred a good old-fashioned breakfast of caf and half a pack of smokes. Thank Frith I never kissed her, it would have been like licking a fire pit.

He thought back to the promise he’d made to Marathel. He had put all his thoughts of revenge against the Hold on the back burner when he’d taken her broken body away from Unmanarall. The idea had never fully left, especially with the information that the New Republic didn’t give a biased piss about the place. He relished the idea of obliterating the Round Building and every male that drew breath on that planet, but he was only a two-credit mercenary, not a savior for a society of downtrodden women, and he couldn’t come up with a plan to help them beyond simply blowing away the Hold, the source of their pain, in a barrage of laser blasts.

I can’t even rescue one woman from that place, how could I possibly help an entire Hold of them?

He continued to stroke the back of her trembling hand with his gloved thumb. He wondered how many times he’d begged her to not leave him, only to be rejected each time. Then she would draw herself close to him, and in the next moment, pull herself away. He supposed that a reasonable person would have given up by now. Not that I’m a reasonable man. But then, what reasonable man falls in love with a woman who has suffered this much damage?

He had no answer for that one, just like he had no idea why he continued to follow her command to return her to her home planet, a command that she herself admitted had no reason. A command about to come to fruition.

Din gently shook her arm. “Marathel? You have to wake up now.” Marathel groaned quietly and turned her face into his shoulder. “Mesh’la. It’s time.”

Marathel raised her head, squinting, sand in the corners of her eyes. “Din? Are we there?”

“Almost.”

Marathel, still very groggy, dragged herself up to her elbow, rubbing her eyes with the side of her hand. “I was dreaming,” she mumbled.

“What about, mesh’la?”

Before Marathel could answer, a loud alarm began blaring, which startled her fully awake, and she curled tighter against Din in fear. “What is that?”

Din sighed and sat up, holding a yawning Grogu against his chest, his other arm still around Marathel. “We’re here.” Marathel looked at him, dismayed by the quick passage of time, but she nodded, and rolled up to her knees, and then her feet. She held out her hands for Grogu, and Din handed him to her. She gave Grogu a squeeze, and then offered her shaking hand to Din. He put his gloved hand in her splinted hand, and she gave a pull to help him up. Once standing, Din immediately pulled them both into his arms, holding them tight enough to squeeze a sob out of Marathel. “Cyar’e ... I can’t do it. I can’t let you go.”

“You have to, Din.”

“We had five days, five days, to figure it out between us, and we squandered the whole trip with petty fights ...”

“There was no point, Din.”

“You don’t even know why you’re making me take you back!”

Marathel pushed back from Din, looking into his visor. “You’re taking me back because you love me, and you will honor my request.”

“I won’t do it. I’m turning this ship around, and I’m taking you ...”

“Din,” Marathel said firmly, sliding her hand up his throat and under the edge of his helmet – something he’d never allowed anyone to do before meeting her – and her thumb pressed against his lips, stilling him into silence. “It’s time to go back into the cockpit and drop out of hyperspace.” She felt his lips tremble with sorrow. “Let’s go,” she said quietly, dropping her hand. She heard Din’s quiet sob before he turned away from her. With a sigh, Din shoved his bedroll back into the tiny room he used as his sleeping quarters, then ascended the damned ladder they’d had to climb over and over the past few days. Marathel lifted Grogu up and into the cockpit before following Din. They sat in their respective charis, silently strapping themselves in before Din shut off the alarm and set the controls to drop out of hyperspace. Once again, Marathel felt her insides rearrange themselves and the old ship lurched into orbit above her home planet. Marathel gasped at the sight of the lovely blue-green planet before her. “Is that ...”

Din swallowed. “That’s Unmanarall.”

“Why ... it’s pretty. I never knew ... there’s so much water. Such big oceans.” Marathel undid her safety straps and stood to lean against the console. “Can they see us?”

Din cleared his throat. “No. We’re too small and too far away.”

“I don’t even know where the Hold is.”

“The Hold is just on the other side of the planet.”

“Is Unmanarall a large planet? As planets go? Have you been other places that look like this?”

Despite his deep sorrow, Din was amused by her childlike curiosity. “It’s not very large, but yes, there are other planets similar to this one. But the strange thing is ... your Hold is the only location on your entire planet that is inhabited by people.”

Marathel turned to look at Din. “I don’t understand.”

“What that means, Marathel, is that your people had to come from somewhere, and ended up on Unmanarall. There is no other logical explanation for your people being there. People just don’t ... naturally occur with a small population like yours, and in only one location.”

“But ... what does that matter?”

“If you could find out ... If I could find out where your people originated from, maybe I could get help for the women there.” Marathel frowned and began shaking her head. “Marathel, even if you don’t go back to the Hold, you can’t let those women continue to suffer ...”

“It doesn’t matter, Din. The Hold will die out eventually.”

Din pulled off his safety straps and stood, trying to grab at Marathel’s hands. “You can’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. Even if, for some reason, the Hold could be emptied and everyone taken back to ... wherever ... what would be the point? We’re all too ...” She searched for the words in Newtalk and couldn’t find them. “Nydwes Unmanarall, Wmodhmabarall maelowyth. That means, ‘there is nowhere else, everywhere else is death.’ We can’t leave. I can’t manage anywhere else, none of us would be able to. It’s just best ... to leave us to our own destruction. I’m sure it will come soon.”

Din tilted his helmet. “What are you saying, Marathel?” he asked, wary.

“I’m saying it’s time for me to go.” She gently removed her hands from Din’s and went back to sit in the aft chair. “Is there a way to fly in where they won’t see the ship? I would rather they not know, so that I may quietly disappear to someplace else.”

“It’s ... night there now. I don’t want to leave you there in the dark,” Din said, grasping for any possible reason he could to keep her on the ship.

“It won’t matter. I will know where I am. And the Eyes of the Mothers ... the stars, I mean ... they will give me enough light to see by.”

Din stared at her for a few moments, and then sat in his chair and began moving the controls to carefully fly the ship into the atmosphere, following her direction to avoid being observed by the Hold. Why am I doing this? He cried out in his mind. He came in low, just over the tops of the grove of gorugelly trees, and touched down in a flat rocky area surrounded by thick tall underbrush.

Once the Crest had settled, Marathel got up and went down the ladder to gather her belongings while Din flipped switches and adjusted controls. She quickly placed the knitted jacket and slippers for Grogu, as well as the cowl and the felted wool cloths for Din, on the end of Din’s bedroll. She located her bag, folded her blanket, and shoved it inside. By the time Din came down the ladder with Grogu, she was refolding the blankets she had slept on. Din waved his hand dismissively. “You don’t have to bother with those.”

Marathel shrugged, saying, “It’s as good as done.” She approached him, holding out the blankets. “Trade you? Just for a moment?”

Grogu was reaching out for her, so Din handed him to Marathel, taking the blankets from her. While she cuddled with Grogu, Din turned away to place the blankets on his bedroll, and he noticed the items she had left there. He felt a hitch in his heart, knowing that she had made those things with her own hands, her hands that were broken directly because of what they had done together, and he thought he might melt down completely. Instead, he turned to see the woman he loved holding his boy, smiling beatifically at him as he gazed at her with his large, beautiful eyes. “My love,” said Marathel. “Thank you for being my little boy for a while.” She kissed Grogu on his little fuzzy head and gently placed him on the floor, and he escorted her to the ramp door.

Din came to stand next to Marathel, and she turned to him, saying, “Thank you, Din.” She leaned over and kissed the side of his helmet. “Open the door, now. It’s time.” Din swallowed and dumbly reached for the controls, opening the iris-style ship door. As the ramp lowered, a breeze came in, and Marathel inhaled deeply, her eyes closed, taking in the scent of the leaves and grasses and the clean air, so different from the heat and the dust and the fumes of ship fuel on Tatooine. I’m back ... here, she thought, as she realized that Unmanarall was no longer home. She opened her eyes, shifted her weight to take a step down the ramp, and then ... paused. Marathel looked down to her feet, still in the shoes that Cobb had bought her. Din watched as she contemplated her feet for a few moments, and then she used her toe to remove one shoe, then the other, and then she used her foot to gently slide the shoes sideways and away from her.

She did not bend to pick them up.

She no longer needed shoes.

Not on Unmanarall.

Not ever again.

It was at that moment, as he saw Marathel, once again barefoot, about to step back onto the planet that had done its best to kill her on multiple occasions, that Din knew he could not let that happen.

Din ripped off his helmet and flung it far from him, crying, “No, Marathel! I won’t you let do this!”

The instant she heard Din’s voice change from the modulated sound of the helmet to the low cadence of coming directly from his lips, Marathel shut her eyes tight. She did not wish to see his face, because in her soul she knew that she didn’t deserve such a privilege. She knew if she saw his face, she’d change her mind on leaving him. And, in the deepest darkest part of her soul, she wanted to reject his last-ditch declaration of love and cause him pain. Make him reject her, to salve her soul for existing in corporeal form. Her remaining life would be easier when she had nothing left to lose.

Din grabbed her hand, shouting, “Look at me, mesh’la! Please, look at me!”

Marathel slapped his hands away. “No, Din, there’s no point!” Din got hold of one hand and one shoulder, pulling her towards him as Marathel ducked her head, keeping her eyes closed. “Let me GO, Din, LET ME GO!” Marathel twisted her hand loose and thrust it between Din’s flight suit and his armor. Flexing her hand into a claw, she dug her fingertips into the flesh and muscles underneath the bite mark she’d left on him. Where she had marked him as hers. Where he believed she could control his movements and his feelings. Din growled in pain, and Marathel pulled her hand away as she whispered, “Be still, my love.” Din froze in place, allowing her the moments she needed to escape him and the ship.

Marathel’s bare feet hit the ramp, and she ran as fast as she could, running straight into the tall brush to hide herself from the Bounty Hunter, for if he did not wear his helmet, it would be harder to find her. No seeing in the dark, no seeing how hot or cold someone was, just his own eyes. He had seen her with his own eyes, but she had not been allowed to see him with hers, not the way she wanted!

He never saw me as his equal, I never deserved it, no matter what he said, I was never enough for the Mandalorian, she cried in her mind, ignoring the pain in her bare feet as she ran over some brambles. She dropped down a small ridge and dashed across a grassy field, heading for the gorugelly trees. She went deeply into a dark thicket, looking up at the sky, waiting for the Bounty Hunter’s flying ship to soar over her head, and wink away into the stars.

Din, with the bite mark burning and painful, heard her whispered words be still, my love, as Marathel broke away from him and ran down the ramp. “No!” shouted Din, running after her. “No! Don’t make me!” He got to the bottom of the ramp, but she’d gotten a head start on him, and he hadn’t seen which way she had gone. “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!” he shouted into the brush surrounding the ship. “DON’T MAKE ME LET YOU GO!”

Without his helmet, Din heard nothing but the muffled echo of his own shout into the brisk wind. His hearing was damaged from a lifetime of explosions, and a barefoot woman running in the woods was difficult for him to hear without the benefit of his helmet. “MARATHEL!” he screamed into the trees that surrounded the ship. He screamed again, “MARATHEL!” He heard nothing but the rustle of the leaves of the trees blowing in the wind that was whipping around the ship. Din’s knees buckled and he fell hard to the ground. Don't make me let you go, Marathel! Damn you, Marathel, don’t do this! If you love me as you just said you do, then DON’T LEAVE ME! He wanted to scream his pain from the depths of his soul, but he could not utter a sound.

She was gone.

Din dropped his head to his chest, his rasping breath going in and out. He felt a tiny hand in his. He looked down to see Grogu, his eyes sad. Grogu pulled on his hand, pointing to the ship. “Patu?” he asked.

“I can’t, buddy. I can’t. I can’t leave here without her.” Din fell to his hip and wept.

Grogu looked down to his feet and sighed deeper than a little child like him should have been capable of. Squeezing Din’s thumb, Grogu raised his eyes and pointed at the ship again, saying firmly, “Patu.” Grogu let go of Din’s thumb and began toddling back up the ramp. Halfway up, Grogu turned and called to Din, “Patu!”

When the ground beneath him refused to open up and swallow him whole, Din got to his feet, and then turned in a full circle, quietly calling for Marathel. “Marathel ... please, don’t leave me,” he whispered. Nothing. No response, no reappearance of the beautiful, sad, pale woman with the long silver hair. Din’s shoulders slumped, his head fell back to his chest. With a sigh, he went up the ramp, the heels of his boots dragging as if they were too heavy for him to lift. At the top, he turned to look out over the planet’s landscape once more, smelling the salt air and flowers, trying to breathe in the last of her scent from the air. But her scent was gone.

She's gone.

Din slowly stepped into the ship, closing the ramp behind him.

Marathel remained behind a tree, waiting. Go now, Bounty Hunter, go now, go back to your life as Grogu’s father first and foremost. Then be the Mandalorian you are meant to be. Find your happiness, and if you can spare a moment — only a moment, no more than that, I deserve no more than that — for a thought of me, then I will be happy as well. I promise that when I join the Mothers that Went Before in the night sky, I will watch and protect Grogu.

Go now, Bounty Hunter. Leave me behind.

Marathel heard the far-off sound of the Razor Crest starting up, and she waited, watching the sky. Shortly, Marathel watched the ship, carrying the only man she knew she would ever love, and the only child she could ever call hers, as it lifted over the treetops and disappeared out of sight.

I love you.

My heart breaks to keep you safe.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter->

#din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #mando angst #din djarin angst #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedro stories #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfic #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x plus size!fem oc #mando x fem oc #mando x plus size oc #no age gap #plus size oc

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secondsineternity · 1 year ago

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Pretty Brown Eyes

It’s date night, you’re drunk, and you think that Din Djarin’s big brown eyes would be just too pretty to not say anything about them.

A new lil oneshot about our favorite Mandalorian! Enjoy!!

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soft-persephone · 1 year ago

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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.

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sroop · 1 year ago

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guided (i)

"This is my puck, so either we both go together, or you stay behind." It's her way of saying: kriff off.

Author's Note: always wondered about the Mandalorian with an apprentice and wanted to write a bit about what I think Din would try to be as a mentor. This is definitely not the most canon accurate and Grogu isn't mentioned

Summary: Bounty hunting is precarious, even more so when it becomes personal. Din is determined not to let his apprentice learn that the hard way.

{}{}{}{}

Reyza is a good listener. Which was inconvenient because Din was a good listener too, and that meant it was mostly just silence between the two of them.

Normally, Din enjoys the quiet. He's used to nothing but the hum of the engines, the rattling of the carbonite system, or the firm whoosh of atmosphere thrumming against the ship. Even the more talkative quarries he brings on board are quickly silenced. So it's not the quiet that unnerves him, just the fact that it's silent when someone living and breathing and certainly not encased in carbonite is within arm's reach.

Plus, Reyza's silence today seems... cool. Din has been privy to companionable silences before, even from Reyza, herself. Today, she's faraway somewhere, and he's not so sure if it was just as simple as an off day for her. He tips his helmet towards her, watching.

"We don't have to go."

"We do. We should."

Din frowns beneath his armor and glances at the navigation system. Only a few hours before they reach Corellia. From what he's gathered about Reyza, she was either born on Corellia, or spent some harrowing years on it. He's not entirely sure if she was anywhere near their destination, Coronet City, or if she had even seen it before; but he was willing to put down a hard bet that she had, judging from the begrudging determination in her voice. He sighs too quietly for the modulator to pick up.

"Run interference from the ship."

That has her snapping to attention, all the distance and distraction of the last few days crashing in the face of the present. Din can't see her face, but he can imagine she's livid.

"What?" she growls.

"Run interference from the ship. Nonnegotiable."

There's a cold pause as Reyza races to find the right words for the Mandalorian. He was treating her like she was a child, as though she hadn't saved his life on multiple occasions or survived on her own as a full-fledged assassin long before he had ever made himself known to her. And the word nonnegotiable ate at her ego and insecurities in a way she was reluctant to admit, even internally. She could take care of herself. She could take care of this bounty, even alone. Reyza ground her jaw.

"This is my puck, so either we both go together, or you stay behind." It's her way of saying: kriff off.

"I'm not staying behind, you don't have the firepower. I'm not taking you with me until you're honest about what's bothering you about this bounty. It's dangerous to be distracted," Din replies. His voice is level and Reyza resents his composure.

But he's right. She's not childish enough to deny that, and certainly not naive enough to believe that she was above the dangers of human emotion under pressure. She glances at him guiltily, feeling a little juvenile.

Maybe it was a good idea to stay on the ship and let Din handle this one himself. She wasn't exactly rearing to see the city again, or the people in it. But she also hated the idea of standing by on a mission so personal to her. Reyza was left a simple choice: confess, or stand by.

The words feel slow and heavy in her chest, crawling their way up her throat and complaining about it the whole way up. It was like vomiting, but worse.

"I wasn't born on Corellia, I know that's what Karga's file on me says. I was born somewhere else, don't know where, and I was abducted to Corellia when I was really small." She huffs through her nose and shrugs. "I was there until I escaped, and that's all. I went to Nevarro, started working for Karga-" she shrugs again, "- and you know what happens next."

Din mulls over the brief story. It contained the absolute minimum amount of information she could have given, but he knew what it was to want to forget.

"Coronet City?" he asks.

"Yeah."

He recalls briefly why he had taken Reyza on as his apprentice in the first place. It wasn't just Karga complaining that the Nevarro guild would have no reliable hunters once he decided to retire. It was the starburst sigil she wore on a silver chain around her neck.

He'd recognized it immediately as the mark of Polaris. In their heyday, before the Empire, they'd been a deadly force of assassins and spies. A network spanning galaxies, infiltrating and plucking fate strings so expertly that it was unclear where their influence started or ended. But somewhere along the way, their name faded and the work of their assassins dwindled and they became more myth than reality. Almost like the Mandalorians.

Except Din was willing to assume that the Mandalorians valued their foundlings and assets a little more dearly than whatever or whoever it was Reyza went through.

"Polaris?" he asked, a pitch quieter.

"Yeah," she answers, a beat slower.

Reyza's knees go to her face and she spends the rest of the flight curled to her right, away from Din and his pesky questions and unfortunate truths. Reyza wonders what this means. Was her answer acceptable enough for him to deem her not a threat to their mission? Was he waiting for more? Was she still stuck a passenger on her own bounty hunt? Leftover irritation scratches at the back of her neck and she bristles again. Stupid Mandalorian and his stupid, self-righteous moral high ground. She turns to glare at him.

"It's my puck," she declares again, though she's not quite sure to what end.

Din chuckles under his helmet. Gods, for someone more competent than most, she could be such a child.

{}{}{}{}

Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear feedback!

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mandalorian oc #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x female reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #platonic #mandalorian fanfic #the book of boba fett #guided reyza

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xmissrogersx · 7 months ago

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Brown Curls | Din Djarin

tags: a lot of Fluff. Grogu’s being adorable like always. Domesticy and family.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

-Hi baby, are you hungry? -I leaned down to take the kid in my arms, to which he responded by raising his little hands to my face, making me laugh.

-Well, let's see what we can have for breakfast.

I began to improvise a breakfast with the few things that were in the ship's kitchen. I was to tell Din that we had to make a stop in Nevarro to buy more provisions.

-And by the way, where is your father? -I asked my little boy, who only had his attention on the blue cookies he was devouring with fervor.

I went down to the Crest in search of the brown-haired man, to find him in the bathroom in front of the mirror with a pair of scissors in hand.

-Din, what are you doing? -I frowned.

-Hi mesh'la —he turned around, to which I had to cover my mouth from my gasp of surprise.

My poor Mandalorian had made a bit of a mess of his beautiful hair, leaving it very short in the front and uneven on the sides.

-I know, I thought I could do it myself. I always trimmed it myself, but I guess I couldn't handle the amount I was going to have to cut…

I crossed my arms and bowed my head, then approached him.

-Let me help you. I know you always did it yourself, but you don't have to do it anymore, you can ask me.

Din smiled, I took the scissors and started to cut the strands of his hair. I snorted under my breath, faking a moan as I removed the long curls I loved so much.

-Mesh'la, it will grow back —he comforted me, as he tightened his arms around my waist, giving me a little bit of a kiss.

-I know... It’s just… I love your hair, Din. Your curls are beautiful. But I know you must get hot looking like that when you put on the that bucket —I finished my lament, eliciting a chuckle from him and earning a pinch on my thigh.

I continued doing the job for 15 minutes. When I finished I took a step back admiring my work of art.

-Ready, ¿what do you think?

He stared at himself in front of the mirror amazed at the result. I bit my lower lip nervous that he wouldn't like it. However, all fear vanished when I saw him smile slightly.

-What do you think? —he asked, sitting me on his lap, to which I frowned in amusement.

-I don't know, I'll have to get used to seeing you with this new look —he pulled me closer to him, our foreheads pressed together.

-How about now? —Our closeness let me contemplate his brown eyes that drove me so crazy since the day he had revealed himself to me.

-Din Djarin, you look stunning, whatever cut you have. You are beautiful. But please, ¿could you grow it a little longer when you're my riduur?

He laughed at my desperate request. In 4 weeks we would go to Sorgan to get married in that beautiful place where a year ago he broke his Creed for me.

I already loved him before I saw his face, but I must say he exceeded all my imagined expectations of what he looked like.

-It's okay, Mesh'la, I promise.

I took his face in my hands and brought our breaths together, melting into one. By the creator, I was addicted to his lips.

I sat hanging from him, to which Din descended his hands, caressing my thighs.

I began to trace a path of small kisses from his jaw down his neck.

-Mesh...Priya...if you keep doing that I'm not going to be able to contain myself, and well you know a certain womp rat is up in the cabin awake.

-You're right...¿how long until we get to Nevarro? -I asked him, resting my hands on his chest.

-About 10 hours —he answered confused by my question.

-Make it 7, and I'll use the handcuffs you use in the bounties —I whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver slightly under me.

-I'll make it 4 —he said seriously, to which I kissed his cheek.

117 notes · View notes

penvisions · 1 year ago

Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 3}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You begin to understand the dynamic between you and your new captor. But things aren’t always what they appear to be, and maybe that’s for the best.

Word Count: 7.8K

Warnings: talk of sexual favors, narcotics, reader was drugged previously, withdrawel, symptoms of withdrawel, light violence toward reader (very minimal and not detailed), nightmares, trauma, ptsd triggers, reader is in a survival headspace, readers hands are still bound, semi-nudity, moral dilemmas, morally confused din djarin

A/N: hello, hello! i initially planned to update twice a month, but this chapter flowed so easily once i began to flesh out the scenes i had outlined for this installment. it helps to set the dynamic between the reader and our dear mandalorian. i also am aware that my writing style allows for glimpses of his feelings and what he’s thinking, it’s still strictly set in the ‘reader knows x and acts that way’ and then some passages give way to how he’s experiencing the events as well (though reader isn’t privy to them). i like giving insight to him so he doesn’t seem so flat. please let me know what y’all think! ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was early morning, the sun just barely showing signs of peaking over distant mountain ridges. You hadn’t slept much, the chill of the desert and the close, heavy presence of your captor making the task difficult.

The familiar sound of your saber handle had you sitting up quickly, a warning on your tongue as the bright white of the blade formed with the push of a button by a gloved hand.

“Be careful!”

Glowing light cast from the blade illuminated the helmet of the Mandalorian, facing where you had shot up from your resting position. The fabric of your tunic swung as you reached a hand out, not thinking about the sudden movement inciting the man’s instincts. He leaned away from you, his legs pushing him up from his own seated position on a fluid movement, the blade coming in front of him in as a defensive shield. Your face was cautious, your outburst making you worried in the wake of the warning from the night before.

“Please be careful, jatne vod.” You spoke in a softer tone, not wanting the man to accidentally burn himself as he quelled his curiosity surround your weapon. Or wield it at you in defense, you were too weak to put up much of a fight, despite adrenaline that would pump through your system should the threat feel real enough. While it may not be particularly yours anymore, you wanted it to be cared for and handled with caution. “The crystal is very sensitive.”

“Crystal?” The man’s curiosity seemed to get the better of him. He experimentally twisted the handle in a mimic of how one would a blade to get the feel of the weight and balance. The handle moving from one hand to the other, the humming of the blade reacting to each minute swing and twist. It shouldn’t have but the vision of this strong, capable Mandalorian bounty hunter wielding your weapon so easily stirred something in your chest. You ignored the feeling, willing it to fade away and forcefully snapped your focus back.

“The energy of the crystal is harnessed by the handle, resulting in the blade. I mined the crystal myself, long ago.”

“A kyber crystal. Heard of it before, in passing.”

“Yes, jatne vod. A Kyber crystal, they are very important to jedi culture. Much like beskar to your people. It’s a living crystal, it’s bonded to me. It may not operate for everyone who attempts to.”

You didn’t mention that it meant a great deal that it had operated for him.

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, seeming to have the information he wanted regarding the weapon. His need to understand the weapon temporarily overriding the requisite of you being silent. The press of a button dimmed the blade, powering it down completely. A gloved hand reached up with a small flashlight in its grip and he flicked the beam on to point into the handle. The crystal reflected faceted light onto the front of his helmet, bathing his form in a mesmerizing display. The angle of the light hitting the bottom of his helmet giving you a faint glimpse of the shape of the man’s face. No features had been discernable, the darkness within the helmet keeping them hidden from you.

Your eyes traced the faint outline, searching for any hint of the man beneath the helmet even as your mind reprimanded you that it was an invasion of privacy. This man had sworn a creed, much like yourself, though his was different from yours. While yours forbade earthly attachments, his forbade revealing his face to those he was not bonded to. There was just something about him that you seemed instinctually react to…The reverent air that possessed him as he inspected the weapon, respect seeping into his gentle ministrations as he looked it over and got a feel for the way it moved and glided through the air.

You knew that Mandalorians put great worth on weaponry and armor. It was a part of their culture, of their way of life. For this man to take great time and care to figure out the logistics of your own weapon that was now in his possession, it felt like something. However misplaced it may be. The more sensible part of your brain was trying to argue that it didn’t mean anything, that the man probably collected every weapon from every quarry he’s ever captured. Inspected them, deemed them important enough to integrate into his own personal cache of weapons or store them upon the ship for when he may need them, if ever.

The sun was beginning to cast pastel orange rays that were bleeding into the dark navy of the fading night over the vast expanse of the open sky, painting the desert in a wash of golden light. Eclipsing the man standing before you, his back to the beauty of the day’s new beginnings.

Suddenly the silver helmet morphed into one that was all black, the visor disappearing. The quiet air of the early morning was filled with the sound of deep breaths being helped by a compressor, the figure of the Mandalorian shifting into that of one you’ve spent your entire life running from. A red blade sprang to life as the standing figure twisted the lightsaber and aimed it at you, stepping over you to hold it close to your throat.

The hum of it was loud in your ears, the heat of it setting your skin on fire even if it hadn’t touched you yet. Your name fell from the figure’s mouth, modulator making it low and it settled heavy in the air. It wasn’t the voice of the Mandalorian you had grown to recognize over the past day. A hand was raised and you felt yourself being lifted to hover few feet above the ground, your body hanging limply as the Force was worked against you. Chills rained down your arms and back despite the beads of sweat that were beginning to form along your skin, body freaking out even as your mind was utterly blank with panic.

The hand fell from its raised position, your body collapsing to the ground with a thump. Fear had you rooted in your spot, unable to do anything as the blade began to cut a line into your neck…

You shot up from where you had been laying, hand flying to your neck as a choking sound warbled from your mouth. You took a deep breath, blinking furiously to dispel the image of a dark cloaked figure with a black helmet as the light of day revealed to you that it had all been a dream. A dream of a memory that had morphed into a nightmare. The shade encompassing you had you stilling as you tried to mentally reign yourself in.

You whipped your head around, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings. You were down on the ground, a thick piece of tattered fabric separating your body from the coarse sand. The sound of metal on metal filled the air as you turned to see the Mandalorian and the Ugnaught working together to fit a final piece of siding back into place on the Razor Crest. The sun was setting but you had a feeling it wasn’t the same day as when you had fallen unconscious. The fuzzy feeling of your tongue in your dry mouth and the aching of your muscles were an indication of the time that had passed.

You watched silently, moving to sit more comfortably atop the fabric, as the two made sure the metal panel was securely in place. When the figure of the Mandalorian emerged from the shadows of the ship, you realized he was free of the mud that had covered him the last time you had been conscious, and he had fastened his cuirass back into place despite the large dents that still marred the metal. He was missing his cloak. Your middle dropped from you to disappear into the sand as you realized he had removed it and given it to you in your unconscious state to lay atop. That he had taken the time to clean it of the mud that had caked on it before doing so.

With frantic still bound hands, you brushed as much of the sand that had gathered onto it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how careless you were treating something of his. Halfway through your ministrations, you realized you still had a layer of mud covering your own form, though it was dried and nearly baked into the fabric of your tunic and along your hair. Small bits of it crumpled off to land on the fabric. Your face had been wiped clean, though whoever had done had made sure to stop there.

“He told me of the powers you used to defeat the mudhorn, I’ve heard of them in passing.”

Your head shot up at the voice, suddenly realizing that the Ugnaught had approached you. You hoped he had been the one to wipe your face clean, unsure of how you felt about the Mandalorian taking the time to ensure you had something to lay on so you weren’t on the ground and to clean you. He had schooled his expression to one of slight curiosity, though you couldn’t read much else in his expression.

“Whispers of such powers have faded, but they still linger in the wind and minds of the galaxy.”

You just nodded, bringing your hands to rest atop your bent knees. Your eyes moved to the pod beside you, it was open to reveal the unconscious form of the Child inside. Worry stirred in your heart for him, he was so small and the Force took a lot of energy and concentration to direct, to harness. His moves to save the Mandalorian will have definitely hit him harder than yours had done to you. Memories of a similar figure in species and stature wove through your racing mind, though the one you were thinking of had been alive for millennia. He had been skilled beyond comprehension, his age allowing him the time to become one of the strongest people you had ever encountered. The Child had a long way to go and you’d surely be long dead by the time he was even ready to begin training himself.

“You must be stronger than the Child, he is still unconscious.”

You nodded again, not wanting to give anything away. The fleeting worry that the Mandalorian has recounted the events with the mudhorn grew in your chest and made it hurt as you fought your instincts to incapacitate the figure in front of you. That he had told the Ugnaught what you had shared with him in his native tongue, still so cautious about who you were.

No one could know what you were, what you possessed, you already had such a large target on your back. But this man had been nothing but kind to you in his own way, allowing you to share his farmed water, offer you transportation, and aid with repairing your captor’s ship. Surely he wasn’t a threat in any way, whether personally or by the sharing of information he’s gathered from the interactions of the past few days.

“You may speak with him, if you wish. Though I have not repeated what you told me,” The deep timbre of the Mandalorian’s modulated voice sounded as he approached as well. He pressed something along his left cuff and the pod beside you moved toward the repaired ship and up the ramp. Something stirred in you, quelling the panic and worry that had begun to consume your mind. But it was quashed just as quickly as it had begun to form at the next words to leave his modulator. “Word of what you told me would make it even more of a task to complete the job of returning you.”

You hoped none of the emotions that had washed over you had shown on your features, not wanting to be so easily read. You nodded again, the repeated motion beginning to cause nausea in the pit of your stomach now that you were conscious. You spied the handle of your saber secured in a spot on the Mandalorian’s utility belt. Hidden from anyone who didn’t know what to look for.

“Thank you for the kindness you have shown us while on your planet, sir. It is greatly appreciated. I don’t have anything to offer you in return.” Your attention snapped back to the man directly in front of you. His eyes meeting your own as he looked you over. It seemed as if he had more to say but had settled on holding the words back in favor of addressing your immediate response.

“I am in your service; you are my guests. There is no need to supplement me. I have spoken.”

The ship lifted into the air, and you gripped an arm of your seat tightly, both hands curling around it as you fought the rolling nausea in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was because of withdrawal or nerves at flying again. It had been so long since you’d been aboard a ship, and apparently the last time you hadn’t even been conscious enough to realize you were being transported. But this time you were, and you grounded yourself with that small notion. You were aware of what was happening at this moment, and it was all you could think of to comfort yourself even if you were being taken back to a place you never wanted to return.

Once the ship lurched into hyperspace, the mesmerizing colors wafting around the ship and displaying through the glass of the cockpit, you felt your nerves ease a little. The colors were beautiful, the light of them calming despite what they meant. Though the brightness of them could be felt behind your eyes as your head throbbed.

You climbed down into the hold once the course through hyperspace had evened out, taking in the space. It was small but enough room to allow the Mandalorian his sleeping quarters, space to store a good number of crates secured along the walls of the hull with thick netting and fabric straps with metal clasps, the small room that held the refresher that the ladder up to the cockpit lined, the cabinets that he used to hold his weaponry, and settled into the hull of the ship itself was the chamber he must’ve used to contain his quarries. You inspected the door, a slight confusion settling over you as you took in the control panel. With a start, you realized it was a carbon freezing chamber.

Backing quickly away from the doors that opened into the small chamber, you felt your back collide with something strong and solid, sending faint jolts of discomfort down your sore shoulders. Shifting on your feet with more energy than you thought you possessed, you came face to face with the Mandalorian himself.

You began to shake your head, fear growing hot in your body as you realized that your fate was to be frozen in this moment and roused once you were back in the hands of your cruel mother. No chance to put up a fight, no chance to scramble for freedom once in a place with more opportunities. You felt like a fool, thinking the armored man would allow you to occupy his space as he returned his other quarry, the one he had initially set out to capture. The job he had intended to fulfill when he happened upon you on the same planet. He said you had to be returned unharmed and the best way to do that would be to turn you into carbonate for travel.

But he didn’t activate the doors to open, he didn’t push you into the chamber. He didn’t move at all except to nod his helmet toward the other side of the hold space. There was a crate that had been taken from the netting and placed against the paneling that you knew opened up to reveal a condensed kitchen space. There was a small cooling supply unit and a hot plate. The cabinets around the immediate area housed a caf maker he had been adamant about retrieving from the Jawas and various boxes of nonperishable foods you weren’t too keen on. You preferred freshly prepared food, a product of your upbringing on a planet whose culture was rich with fishing and farming.

Two smaller crates had been set up next to it in a mimicry of a dining table and chairs. You looked to him before moving across the space and settling yourself atop one of the ‘seats’, him doing the same, sitting diagonal to you. His back was to the wall of the hull, while yours was open and exposed as you faced him and the paneling. It was quiet, the space filled with a weird tension you couldn’t explain when he moved to lean forward with something in his hand that you hadn’t noticed in your panic.

The ration pack placed in front of you atop the ‘table’ made you blink, the change of clothes that weren’t your own underneath it even more so. You glanced over to wall of armor that hide away the man who offered them to you. You stared at the pile of items in front of you, taking note that they were for a reason, one that you weren’t daft enough to ignore. When he reached forward again, this time to remove the binders still around your wrists, you stared at the visor, trying to gauge the situation to get a read on what he would prefer. Taking a breath, you stood and moved to face the man, your skin humming in hesitant anticipation like it always did before you were given instructions, no matter how silent.

You didn’t say anything as you stood from your seat and kneeled before him, hands reaching out to rest on his thighs. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at the idea of touching the cold-looking armor decorating his form, but you would deal with it. You could deal with a lot if it meant you could eat and have clean clothes. You had thought that being taken by him only meant an exchange of who was handling your shackles, and you were correct. It didn’t matter if he claimed to be transporting you back to your home planet and mother, you were under his control in the meantime and you didn’t want to upset him. Didn’t want to run the risk of turning down his offer to trade and then ending up with nothing in exchange and him taking what he wanted anyway.

The harsh truth of the situation was that you needed the food. You needed something in your system to combat the waning drugs and the sensations they were leaving in their continued absence. Withdrawal had fully set it in, if your spells of nausea and dizziness were any indication. The sensitivity to light you were developing spoke of it even more so, accompanied by interwoven chills and hot flashes that had nothing to do with the planet’s environment. If you were to make it through, you needed something in your system to help counteract the energy it was taking from your already spent body.

The clothes looked soft, something that sounded like a blessing against your irritated skin. You needed those items. The fact of the matter was that you needed to trade for them with the man before you, nothing came for free. Not in this life, not in yours. Because underneath all that armor and the creed, he was just another man. Steeling yourself you began to reach out for him, to begin with something relatively tame. Hopefully it would be enough for the items…

You didn’t even get to lay your hands completely down on the armored plates over his thighs before there was a sharp sting on your cheek and you felt yourself crumble to the floor from the force of a hit.

You had been so focused on keeping your eyes on his lap that you hadn’t seen the twitch of his hand before it moved swiftly toward you. You didn’t move an inch from where you were on your backside on the floor, submitting completely to the man now standing. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, the crinkling of leather giving away his irritation at the situation. You didn’t do anything, you didn’t look dare look at him, not wanting to upset him further. You waited for him to speak, to give you directions.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low and harsh, the same one he used when you had heard him talking to Jawas. It held no respect. It reverberated through your entire body, bringing you shame you hadn’t felt in a long time, having shut down feeling bad over the things you’ve had to endure. Shame at things you had to do to survive while being held captive for so long and on different occasions. “Answer me. Why would you think that’s appropriate?”

“Th-the food….and the clothes. Pay-payment, jatne vod.” You wanted to bring a hand up to your stinging cheek, the feeling of a cut underneath your eye bringing tears to your lash line as swelling began. You allowed your hair to shield your face from view, no one had ever struck your face before, and it had taken you off guard. It had hurt.

No one had dared touch your face, to leave marks on it, no matter who the captor had been or who had been watching over you. Your mother had wanted you to maintain the soft skin of your face in order to gain a husband someday, but as you got older the idea seemed to disappear from her mind. It became a silent way to hide the things they did to you. The same went for your captors, they wanted to keep anything they did to you covered. Easily hide the awful things they did to you should you need to be transported, avoiding as much unwanted attention as possible.

“Payment?” The Mandalorian took a step back, feeling his entire body go cold. He took in the way you were trying not to cower, your hands shaking where they held you up from being on the floor completely, your legs splayed out where you landed from the force of his panicked movement. He hadn’t meant to hit you, his mind urging him to push you away before you touched him had turned into a frantic swipe of his hand. You were a quarry, there was no need for touching unless he was fighting you.

You didn’t say anything further. He glanced at the items on the table for a second, his mind reeling at the idea of you having to pay for them when he had obviously placed them there for you to have. To make yourself somewhat comfortable aboard the ship. He may not have the best record of social interaction and had trouble accepting things offered to him without seeing the strings attached, but this? He hadn’t meant for you to take the items as something you had to earn, your puck instructed to bring you in alive and unharmed, he had just been trying to be accommodating to some degree.

You were covered in mud and dirt from the desert and your captivity. Even more so from saving him, taking out that second, raging mudhorn that had quite literally come out of nowhere. He had wiped your face free of mud, but hadn’t dared do anything further. It felt like too much, just what little he had already done. He’s intent on ignoring his betraying mind telling him he wouldn’t have done as much for anyone else.

The talk of the Jawas and the favors they had referred to when discussing wanting to trade his parts back for time with you echoed in his head. They had been talking about the way the guards of the compound had refused to give you anything lest you trade for them, but with no possessions to trade there was only one thing that could mean…

“I-if that’s not what you wanted, then do whatever you think is f-fair in exchange.” You turned to face him, though your eyes didn’t dare rise past his cuirass. You were kneeling once again, though instead of reaching out to him, your hands went up to untie the wrap keeping your tattered tunic closed and loosened the knot there. The fabric fell from your form onto the floor and puddled around you, leaving you in just your underthings. The fading bruises and cuts on your skin from your captivity on full display.

You rested your hands atop your thighs and waited for his instructions. You could feel your skin prickle in the cold air of the ship, your chest displaying the sensation through the fabric. “I h-have an implant, if that interests you, jatne vod.”

“It doesn’t interest me. Put your clothes back on and collect yourself. This isn’t a game.” Disgust at the insinuation dripped from his modulated voice. He looked at the wall just beyond your face, not looking at you but looking over your head. He could see the red line the plate of armor on the back of his hand had made underneath your eye, the trickle of blood that blossomed from the end of it. He hadn’t meant to strike you so hard, he hadn’t even meant to strike you in the first place. “I gave you those things, they’re yours.”

“But-“ You cut yourself off, as if realizing you were arguing with him. He didn’t see having a conversation as arguing, but he guessed you weren’t used to having a simple conversation. He realized that days ago he had snapped at you to remain silent, that he preferred if you didn’t talk. The sentiment carved into your every interaction with him since then as you spoke only when spoken to. Outside of when you had explained the diagnostics of your weapon. You had been missing for so long, no doubt having been captured for most of it. Obeying despite not wanting to instilled in your mind for survival. You remained unmoving, as if waiting for another strike to fall on you. “Apologies.”

He was quiet, taking in the way you sat before him. When he raised his hand to point at the items on the table, he took in the way you began to flinch. He had tried to abort the movement at the realization you were worried he would strike you again. Unfamiliar guilt stuttered through his chest, prompting a heavy sigh to sound through the modulator.

“Eat, then wash off. The refresher is through that door. The soap and towels in there are for you to use, do so. I’ll be overlooking the course.” He walked away from you, leaving you kneeled on the floor. His footsteps could barely be heard as he crossed the space and disappeared up the ladder.

The Mandalorian was overwhelmed with not knowing how to interact with someone who seemed conditioned to wait for commands but could take down an assailant and a raging mudhorn with ease. It made him uncomfortable; you made him uncomfortable. Strength and ability hidden away in favor of submitting; he didn’t understand. Even if it was a survival tactic. He’d just rather fight his way through threats than submit and bid his time. Shaking his head roughly to dispel his thoughts, he reached out for the last rung on the ladder and pulled himself up to the level of the ship that held the cockpit.

The sooner he could return the Child to Nevarro, the sooner he could get you where you needed to be and off his ship.

Your stomach protested the heartiness of the ration pack. It was too heavy, even if all you had taken was two bites before realizing. The waning of the drugs in your system paired with no other food or nutrients made it hard to swallow what you did dare to intake. You didn’t want the Mandalorian to think you were ungrateful, especially after giving you the ration pack. You just stood there, staring at the opened foil of it and frowned.

You had used the refresher, taking your time washing the caked-on mud and sand from the past few days journey. You were donning the rather large, long sleeve shirt and pants that had been given to you as well. You tugged the belt from your dirty clothes and cleaned it quickly to help hold up the waist. A sigh fell unbidden from you and you pushed up the long sleeves and began to handwash the rest of your stuff in the refresher sink, leaving the unfinished pack on the table. You had carefully folded the foil to conceal what you had not been able to eat.

You were about to hang your tunic and cloak on the top of the shower stall door when you heard faint footsteps in the hold. They seemed to pause before they redirected and a knock on the refresher door sounded. Jumping slightly at the loud sound, the fabric in your hand fell to make a wet smack on the tile of the shower floor.

You abandoned in to open the door, the broad figure of armor taking up the entire open space. His visor was turned down to look at you directly, though you hadn’t the faintest clue what expression was truly on his features.

“You didn’t finish your ration pack.”

“I am grateful for your generosity, jatne vod. I…may I speak plainly?”

The visor continued to stare at you, no confirmation or denial leaving the face behind it. You felt your face heat as you were aware of how close he was, that you were in his own clothing, that the steam from your shower was still wafting through the air. Embarrassment made you heat up even more so, hating the way that it affected you so. But you were beginning to realize how pathetic you must have appeared to the man before you and continued to so do the longer you were in his presence.

“It’s… too dense on my stomach. Food wasn’t a priority for me, at the compound. And the…stuff they used to keep me contained may have worked out of my system but it’s still affecting me.”

“They kept you drugged so you wouldn’t fight.”

“Yes, jatne vod.”

“They starved you and kept you drugged.”

“They starved me in order to make food something desirable, something I would trade…companionship for.”

A knot formed in your throat, the words physically hurting you to speak aloud, keeping your head bowed enough to not make eye contact with the visor. Your cheek throbbed where the armor on his hand had sliced you. Your body was sore, your muscles exhausted from the events of the past few days on top of the particularly harsh reality you had been living for however long you had been captive. You must’ve been shaking, or your muscles twitched, or you made a face when stab of pain reverberated through your stomach as it tried to digest what little you had eaten. The flinch didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you require medical attention?”

“No. I would not want to waste your supplies.” The immediate response flew from you before you even knew the words existed. But you had no way of paying to supplement what he would use. You didn’t even know what would help beyond bacta spray for your cheek.

“Not a waste if you’re injured. You are to be returned intact.”

“…I would appreciate it, if I would be allowed to just settle somewhere and rest for a bit. If that’s amenable, jatne vod.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You’re my captor, I’m your quarry. What do you wish me to call you? Because I don’t think you’d like the term I’m using in my head.” Your eyes flared in annoyance at the man in front of you as you straightened to your full height and gazed directly into the visor. His own eyes caught the flash of emotion through the visor. You were trying to be respectful, despite the circumstances. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve pummeled them and taken off with your freedom. But he was a Mandalorian, a rather extraordinarily skilled one despite his propensity for aggravated outbursts over mundane things. And you knew when you were outmatched, especially in your prevailing weakened state.

“What were you doing in here for so long?” He peered over your head, toward the damp clothing that was hung up and then to the piece that had been left forgotten on the floor at his appearance.

“Tending to my clothes, I did not want to anger you by being in your own for too long should you need them. Mine should be dry by the time I’m done resting.”

It was silent as he entered the small space, you shifting to plaster yourself against the wall that faced the small mirror above the sink. You could only watch as he gathered the damp clothing in his hands and walked clear out of the refresher. He opened up a panel along the side of the hold space and dumped the clothing in the dark space. You didn’t protest as he did so, nor did you apologize for taking up space with them as you had tried to dry them.

“Once the Child is returned, we will find a stall for a new tunic.”

With that he moved to the concealed door that led to his own, small quarters. He opened it and disappeared inside, the door closing nearly completely behind him. The pod containing the Child had floated into the space along with him. You allowed yourself to relax just a bit, the tension pulling your shoulders taut waned and you sighed in relief. You moved to sit atop the ‘seat’ he had occupied before, with your back leaning against the siding of the space you closed your eyes and hoped your head would stop hurting soon.

You were awoken some time later by the sound of ceramic on metal. You jumped, your hair swinging with the sudden motion and your body protested the tensing of muscles. Your eyes immediately took in the form of the Mandalorian seated across from you in your previous spot. His hand was still curved around the mug he had set atop the ‘table’ in front of you. Steam wafted up from it and the faint smell of something delicious had your mouth watering. Your stomach gurgled in response to the smell, loud enough to be heard in the silence.

“Bone broth, should be easy on your stomach.”

Eyes raked over the helmet, the dark shape of the visor in the low light of the hold space. He didn’t remove his hand from the mug, his gloved hand curled around it to display just how wide his palm was and how thick his fingers were. Your eyes snapped to the steaming mug and then back to him as he leaned forward slightly, his other arm coming to rest atop the ‘table’. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, the silence getting heavy as you realized he was about to ask for something in exchange for the delicacy that had been placed between you.

“The Child. He’s still unconscious.”

Straightening your back, stifling a groan at the action you took in the way his own shoulders were tensed, the way his legs were firmly planted on the floor of the ship. He was carrying something he wasn’t accustomed to and it was a burden that could be read on him as if he had plainly told you. The Mandalorian was worried about the Child.

“He may be older than both of us, but he is still young for his species. The Force is…a complicated thing to wield and he may have hidden his powers in the time since we were first hunted. He will be okay, his mind is recovering and his body is allowing it to happen in the safety of unconsciousness.”

Your words seem to hold what he was looking for, as his large hand detangles from around the mug to leave it sitting in front of you in a clear display that it is now yours. You try to not greedily reach out for it, your stomach making more noises as the prospect of something that smells so enticing. You bring the mug to your lips slowly, the action of swallowing making you grimace slightly as you realize you may have been out for longer than you initially thought, once again. Your cheek throbbed at the movement though you visibly relaxed as the warm, smooth liquid flowed down your throat to settle in your stomach.

A somewhat comfortable silence hung in the air, until the man across from you reached into the box you hadn’t seen atop the ‘table’ in your distraction of the mug. He pulled out a small tube that looked too much like something that would house a needle.

The clatter of the mug on metal and your uncomfortable shuffling to make yourself smaller had the visor training back on you with a quick movement. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing shallowed as thoughts of him drugging you created a feeling of foolishness to swell in your chest. He didn’t say anything as he held the tube out to you in his wide palm for you to see the label on it.

‘Bacta’ in small, all capital letters spelled out in Basic.

“For your wrists,” He set it down slowly by the mug. “So they don’t scar.”

You had been rubbing unconsciously at your sore wrists, the angry red marring the tan skin around them irritating. You hadn’t noticed you had been doing so, had probably been doing so since your departure from the compound, even around the binders he had placed on you while in the desert. You watched with cautious eyes as he stood and took the box that must hold his medical supplies in it back toward his sleeping quarters. He returned to the ‘table’ and took the tube back in his hand, popping off the protective cap to reveal a squat spray nozzle. He held out his other hand in a silent request.

Hesitantly you held your arms out, palms turned up where the most damage had been caused. Dried, ugly looking scabs decorated your skin. The area around them irritated and painful looking. He hovered his free palm below your outstretched hands and proceeded to spray in small bursts over the circumference of them. Your heartbeat fast and painful in your chest throughout the whole ordeal. He pocketed the now empty tube before leaning back out of your space. You nodded your thanks as you moved to pick the half empty mug back up, your wrists tingling as the medicine began working to heal the damage to your skin. Quiet resumed.

Once you’ve finished the mug, the contents of it sitting comfortably in your stomach, you both move to the cockpit as he announced you would be leaving hyperspace soon.

Settling into the chair behind the pilot’s seat, off to his left, you spied the pod housing the Child resting in the one to both his and your right side. The Child was still unconscious, though his chest was rising and falling evenly. The ship lurched, pulling your attention from the small being toward the open windshield of the ship. A planet taking up the airspace directly in front of it as it exited hyperspace.

Turning, the Mandalorian reached out to grasp the open lip of the pod. He gently shook it, to gauge the figure inside. But it didn’t stir, not so much as a wiggle of adorable ears or the twitch of a small nose. He turned back to face the control panel, taking the handles of the power steering in his grip. The planet grew larger, the view of it expanding as you closed in on it.

Through the atmosphere you could make out the fluorescent reds and oranges that meant it was a volcanic planet. The realization striking panic to simmer low in your abdomen. The bases of most Imperials were hidden away on planets with volcanic environments, harnessing the energy and movement of the lava to create the weapons they had used during times of war. If the lack of response to your earlier question of the Imperials being the ones to contract the Child’s return was anything to go off of, then you were positive they were here on this planet.

Rustling drew your attention, you looked over to see the Child was awake, his head popping up over the lip of the pod as he peered curiously over the top of it. He clambered down from the pod, from the chair the pod was nestled in and walked over toward the side of the pilot seat. You couldn’t see him, but you did see when one of his small green hands reached for the handle of one of the controls. The shiny top of it commanding his attention. The Mandalorian was momentarily focused on a transmission he played as it dinged in.

When the transmission ended, his attention focused on the Child beside him. The small figure had climbed up atop the control panel, small hand gripping at the top of a lever in front of him. The shiny ball of metal atop it his goal. He removed it easily, bringing it to his mouth to chew on.

“It’s not a toy.” A gloved hand grasped the back of the Child’s clothing and lifted him up. A small noise left him as he was moved back to his pod and deposited back into the confines of it. They shared a look, a soft coo sounding before the Child looked over to you with his bright eyes. You smiled at him, wiggled your fingers at him in a motion that pulled a giggle from him in his cute voice.

“Remain on the ship. I’m going to lock it down and set access coding, attempting to mess with the panels or controls will send an alert directly to me.”

You watched as the armored man stood before his storage cabinet and donned what he deemed appropriate. The act of him fastening weapons and adjusting his armor and the underling padding over his clothing seemed an invasion of privacy almost, though he hadn’t told you to leave him be or leave the room. The intimacy of knowing where he had hidden blades and extra munitions seemed to be something you should not be privy to.

You hide away in the cockpit during his absence, spending the time watching the hustle and bustle of the city through the main archway that separated the open expanse from the landing area for ships.

The city was dirty, the streets full of people and trash. The buildings were crumbling in some places, blaster damage and dirt decorating the exterior of most of them. It was seedy and it was exactly the type of environment you had spent most of your life hiding in. You didn’t miss it, having been so young when you first took to a life on the run, forced to. You took in the way people didn’t linger their gazes on anything or anyone else for too long. As if they were afraid of inciting conflict. Too common a thing in places like this.

You watched the goings-on of the main street you could see that wound its way through the center of the small city. Losing track of time, it was growing dark as the day began to bleed into night. The time of twilight taking over the planet and bathing it in blue light. The light pollution from the city shields the stars and surrounding planets from view.

When the Mandalorian returned, you had tracked his path down the main street until he had gotten too close to the ship to do so. He was alone, the pod no longer trailing beside him. But that had been the end of this mission after all. It didn’t matter that he had asked after the Child’s wellbeing as it had laid unconscious for days. His task was predetermined.

His armor was different. The plates were still secured to the same places as his previous set, but this one was all comprised of the same silver metal as his helmet and his right pauldron. Of beskar. The spoils of his mission plainly on display for all to see.

It was beautiful, it was gorgeous. It made him look even stronger and more capable, if that was even possible. You wanted to skim your hands over the smooth expanse of the plates and feel the coolness of the metal underneath them. Even as you realized it was the very embodiment of the Child being no more.

Grief for another of your kind fallen was an old friend, one that was knocking to be let back into your world after such a long absence. It was not welcome. No words were exchanged, the air holding a sense of detachment as he entered the cockpit. He was holding tension in his entire body as he moved past you and settled into the pilot chair. He punched in the coding he had set and began to power up the ship for lift off.

When he reached over to pull the lever to begin take off, he paused. The ball that normally sat atop the lever had been placed on the control panel when he had removed it from the Child’s mouth hours ago upon arrival. He held the small piece of round metal in his gloved hand, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head beneath the helmet. He slowly screwed the piece back onto the lever and he pushed it forward, his hand hovering over it after the fact.

He suddenly pulled the lever back, reached up and hit some switches. He was a flurry of quick, precise movements as he powered the ship back down just as efficiently as he had powered it on, making your heartbeat fast as you watched him do so.

He didn’t reset the access coding.

As he turned his seat around, the door to the cockpit opened. He stood beside you for the briefest of moments, offering you a curt nod that spoke volumes.

“As soon as you see me returning, ready the ship for take-off.”

“May the Force be with you, jatne vod.”

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dindjarindiaries · 1 year ago

Text

Security - Chapter 69: Liberation

summary: Din and Grogu attempt to save Astra and fight to help Bo-Katan defeat Moff Gideon at long last.

warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, injuries (incl. blood), death, references to trauma, angst

rating: T

word count: 5.308k

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chapter 69: liberation

Din lets out a strangled cry even he doesn’t recognize. He charges forward with both blasters firing as Astra collapses to the floor. Din focuses his fire on all three of the guards, but most notably the one that’s hovering over Grogu. He has to somehow make up for the damage he’s already allowed.

Din gets two of the guards on the ground, but before he can turn to the third, they catch his wrist with an electro-whip and make one blaster fly from his hand. He pulls on it in return and fires with his other blaster, though it doesn’t make the guard release his grip. A second one strikes at Din and he manages to catch the blow on his vambrace.

The third comes striking at Din’s front, but they’re pulled away by an invisible force. Din turns his head and sees Grogu standing at Astra’s side, his hand extended as he reinforces Din with his powers. He would praise his son if the circumstances were any different, but his mind is overshadowed by the horror of what he witnessed just moments ago.

Din tugs on the electro-whip to free himself. He goes back-and-forth with the guards, with Grogu still helping to throw some of them around. Din’s hit hard enough to get knocked off his feet at one point, landing next to Grogu as he tries to shield them from an incoming electro-blade. Grogu stops it with the Force, allowing Din the time to kick the guard away and recover.

With his blaster back in his hand, Din finishes one off and focuses his attack on another. After a brief defense, Din’s able to get a blade through the guard, allowing him to spin and focus on the last one. All it takes is two shots for Din to kill the third.

Din drops to his knees and makes his way over to Astra’s side. She’s breathing hard enough to make her entire armored chest heave, her gloved hands pressing against the bleeding wound as her gaze finds Din’s visor. He tears off his helmet and tosses it aside, taking Astra’s upper half into his arms as gently as he can. Astra groans at the movement.

“Grogu,” Din begins, glancing at his son with a desperation he hopes he can hide from his wife. Grogu coos and nods before Din can finish, already making his way towards Astra’s wound as his little hands try to pry hers away.

“Din,” Astra calls for him, another small gasp falling from her lips once Grogu gets one of her hands pushed aside.

“Hey, cyar’ika.” Din keeps his voice calm and soft as he brushes a hand over her head. “You did very well. Those guys were tough to beat.”

Astra gives him a worried once-over. “Are you okay?”

Din can’t help chuckling in disbelief at her. Here she is, inches from death, and still worrying more about him than herself. “Yeah, Astra. I’m just fine.” He continues to run his thumb over her head. “So are you.”

Astra’s lips tremble. She shakes her head at Din as her chest starts to heave more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Din raises his brow and shakes his head back at her. “You’ve done nothing wrong, rid’ika.”

“I’m scaring you.”

“No, you’re not. We’re all right.” He takes the hand Grogu had pushed aside and holds it within his own. “All you have to do is keep your eyes on me. Okay?”

Astra’s eyelids start to flutter before she can stop them. Din tightens his grasp on her head and lifts her hand to press her palm against his cheek.

“Astra. Eyes on me, ner kar’ta.” Astra fights to obey him, her eyes staying open as her gaze meets his. “There you are. Very good.” Din nods at her. “Grogu’s fixing you up right now. Just keep fighting a little bit longer.”

Astra’s eyes water as her chest heaves with a large, struggling breath. “Where’s Zora?”

“Zora’s safe. Bo-Katan just assured me of that.” Din smiles at her. “You were right. The safest place for her was with the fleet.”

“I won’t get to see her.”

Astra’s words are heartbreaking, but just as Din’s asked her to keep her fight going, so must he. “Yes, you will. You’ll see her when we go home.”

Astra’s brow lifts in hope. “Home?”

Din runs his thumb over her hand on his face and smiles wider. “That’s right, cyar’ika. Our cabin on Nevarro.” He nods with further reassurance. “Grogu and I are gonna grow flowers for you.” Din glances over at Grogu, pleased with his progress as half of Astra’s deadly wound has stitched itself together. “We can plant some flora if you want, to make meals together.” Din looks at Astra again and sees her small smile. “How does that sound?”

Astra’s smile widens. “Perfect.” She wheezes and Din holds her tighter. “Will I get to see it, Din?”

“You will, ner kar’ta.” Din manages another smile for her. “We’re gonna get married again when we get there. Remember?”

Astra runs her thumb over his cheek. “I do.” Astra’s lips start to tremble again. “I wanna go home.”

“We will, I promise. You just have to keep—.”

“Din…” Astra’s eyelids start fluttering closed again. Din takes a panicked look at Grogu’s work and sees that it’s almost done.

“Astra. Astra.” Din lowers his forehead to her own, holding her face between both his hands. “Eyes on me.” When her eyelids continue to flutter, Din shakes his head and lets his panic sink in. “Come on, Astra, come on! Eyes on me.” Her eyes fully close and her armored chest goes still. Din pauses for a moment in disbelief. “Astra!” Din glances at Grogu and sees him sitting back in exhaustion, his ears risen in hope with Astra’s wound fully closed up.

Din’s entire galaxy goes quiet for a moment. He can’t do it without her. He sees her in both their children. He can’t bear to give them a life without their mother.

Astra awakens again with a gasp and a few coughs for air. Din gives her the space she needs, but also keeps holding her tight, one hand staying on her cheek as the other brushes over her head. He exhales as much of the darkness as he can from within him. “Hey, cyar’ika.” Din’s voice is soft as he greets her the same way he did before.

Astra covers his hand on her cheek with her own and holds it tight. She closes her eyes as she continues to regain her breath. Din uses the time to check in on Grogu, who’s watching his mother with his ears even higher than before. Din smiles at his son and lifts a hand from Astra to scoop Grogu into his arms.

“Grogu, buddy, you’ve done so well.” Din’s emotions start to catch up to him as he tears up at his son. “You helped me fight those guards and you saved your mother.” Din lowers his forehead to meet Grogu’s. “I’m so proud of you.” He presses a kiss upon Grogu’s wrinkly head. “Thank you.” Grogu makes the move to bury himself into his father’s cowl and Din lets him. “Thank you.”

Grogu whimpers and holds tight to the material of his father’s cowl. Din keeps him there even as he focuses back on Astra, who’s since reopened her eyes to admire the two of them. His fingertips brush over her face, tracing her long scar. “How do you feel, Astra?”

Astra smiles and starts to rest on her elbows. “Good as new.” She pushes herself up some and grits her teeth. “With a side of soreness.” Astra lifts a hand to cup the side of Din’s face. He leans into the touch and closes his eyes to absorb the life in her. “How are you, my love?”

The sound of her voice saying the endearment has never been so sweet. He reopens his eyes and rejoices at the life in her gaze. Din intends on making his voice more firm when he speaks, but it trembles anyway. “I’m okay.”

Astra gives him a once-over and shakes her head. “You’re not.” She wraps a hand around the back of his head and urges it against the unarmored part of her shoulder. “And that’s all right.” Din’s free arm wraps tight around her as his silent tears wet her flight suit. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” She brushes her hand along Grogu’s ear. “Both of you.”

Din shakes his head and forces himself to take a deep breath. “I’m the one who was too late.” Din’s voice is muffled by the material of her flight suit.

Astra lifts his head and rests her forehead against his. “That’s not true.” She offers him another smile. “You and Grogu both saved me.” She places a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you were brave enough to keep us calm through it all.”

Din lifts his free hand to her cheek. “I knew you would be okay. I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Din. I understand.” Astra huffs and lifts an eyebrow at him. “Remember when you wanted me to let you have a warrior’s death?”

Din chuckles and shrugs. “I was more dramatic back then.”

Astra laughs with him before she grows serious again, her thumb running over his lips. “The truth is I never stopped fighting, just like I knew you wouldn’t back then.” A smile breaks through on her lips, a sight so beautiful to Din it makes his chest swell with admiration and warmth. “Because I love you, Din, so much more than this galaxy and every other.” Astra nods at him, minding his head that’s still pressed against her own. “I’ll always fight for you.”

“So will I.” Din doesn’t hesitate to agree with her sentiment. “Thank you for fighting for me.” He’s filled with so much affection and devotion that he’s practically trembling. “Astra… I love you so much.”

Astra’s lips brush against Din’s own as she smiles wider and whispers one more thing. “I know.”

She then closes the gap between them, enrapturing Din in the sweetest of gestures to seal the promise of their eternal love. It’s an ardent flame and an everlasting one, and despite what the galaxy might try to do to them over and over again, it won’t ever be extinguished. This moment would last forever if Din could let it, but with the fight that continues to rage just outside the door and their son still in Din’s arms, they pull away and share another smile.

“And Grogu,” Astra turns her attention to their son, gently scooping him up from Din’s arms. “I wholeheartedly agree with what your father said before. You have been so brave, and so strong…” She shakes her head in amazement at him. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

Grogu’s ears rise high as he coos at his mother, his little hands grabbing at the sides of her face. Astra laughs and kisses his forehead before she looks up at Din once again.

“Did you defeat Gideon?”

Din shakes his head. “No. His armor was kicking my ass.” Astra raises her brow at him. “Bo-Katan took over for me.”

“Then she’ll need our help.” Astra nods and sets Grogu down, instead reaching for Din’s helmet. She slides it on over his head and pulls him close for one last Keldabe kiss. “Let’s go.”

Din nods, helping both of them to their feet with Grogu back in Astra’s arms. He recovers his blasters before the three of them make their way over to the door, with Din closely watching Astra to make sure she’s truly ready after such an intense brush with death. She demonstrates the strength that’s amazed him time and time again and offers him one more firm nod. Din smiles to himself and opens the door, immediately hearing Gideon’s voice as he does so.

“Mandalorians are weak once they lose their trinkets,” he sneers, stalking towards Bo-Katan as she kneels on the floor.

Her eye catches Din, Astra, and Grogu before she furrows her brow at Gideon. “Mandalorians are stronger together,” Bo-Katan insists.

That’s when Din starts his assault. He fires a bolt at Gideon’s helmet before he begins his intense and endless stream of them. Astra stays at his side, doing the same with her own blaster once she’s set Grogu on the floor. Din focuses on the attack, but he’s also aware of the Mandalorians in the air evacuating, along with the quickly approaching shadow of the light cruiser that’s crashing right towards them.

It doesn’t matter. They have to kill Gideon, whatever it takes.

When the light cruiser makes its first impact, the entire base rumbles, causing everyone to fall on all fours. Each of them recover quickly, though Gideon gets a few good shots at Din even through the raining sparks. He’s just been brought back to his knee when Bo-Katan slides in to shield him.

Pieces of the light cruiser continue to crumble down and make everyone lose their footing once again. Din gives his family a worried glance and sees Astra shielding Grogu from the debris the best she can. He fights to stand just as quickly as he did last time, but Bo’s charging at Gideon with a battle cry before he can beat her to it. Even Grogu slides forward to push Gideon back with the Force. It’s Grogu’s powers that push Gideon’s staff away from him.

Gideon takes aim at Grogu, but Din fires first to disarm him. Both he and Astra slide towards Grogu at the same time, firing continuous blasts that keep Gideon falling further and further back until he’s right up against the wall of flames from the light cruiser.

The flames are about to burst upon them all, but just like Astra said before, Din won’t stop fighting. The last thing he hears is Moff Gideon’s scream of defeat before he wraps himself around both Astra and Grogu the best he can. Bo-Katan reinforces from the other side, all of them turning their heads away—except for Grogu.

Din should’ve expected this from their son. Despite the sounds of the explosion and the intense heat that surrounds them, all four of them remain untouched, as if they’ve been surrounded by some invisible barrier. Din lifts his head and watches in awe as Grogu reinforces their position with a Force field, keeping them all untouched by the violent flames that lick all around them. Astra and Bo-Katan also lift their heads to witness Grogu’s miraculous work with widened eyes.

Din shares a look with Astra. She shakes her head in amazement and Din tilts his helmet to agree with her. He keeps a hand on her back and watches Grogu, who continues his work until the flames have all but disappeared. It’s only then that Grogu stops and sits back, his tiny body crumpling in exhaustion.

Din’s quick to pick Grogu up and cradle him in his arms as the three of them stand to their feet in awe of the ruins that surround them. Ash and debris continue to rain down from the open mouth of the alcove, with not a single trace of Gideon nor the Empire left behind. It fills Din with a relief like no other.

Din tucks his blasters into his belt and focuses his attention on Grogu. “You’ve outdone yourself today, buddy,” Din praises him. “Get some rest.” He props Grogu up so that his little head is resting upon the unarmored part of his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

Grogu is sound asleep immediately after, his breathing even as his hands grasp Din’s cowl. Din smiles at the sight before he looks between Bo-Katan and Astra, who are still stunned at the sight of their surroundings.

“Are you two okay?” Din questions, his visor already giving Astra a once-over.

“I’m fine,” Bo-Katan assures them, gritting her teeth as she flexes her right hand, “aside from a broken hand.”

Astra’s brow wrinkles in concern as she faces their friend. “What happened?”

Bo shakes her head. “Gideon crushed the Darksaber in my hand.” She looks down at her hand and takes a hold of her own wrist. “He destroyed it.”

“It’s for the best,” Din insists. “Maybe now, our people will stop using an ancient weapon to determine who’s worthy of ruling.” Din nods at Bo-Katan as her gaze finds him again. “You earned your place long before Astra and I handed the blade to you.”

Bo-Katan’s gaze slides over to Astra, as if she’s seeking confirmation. Astra nods to agree with Din’s words. Bo manages a smile for the two of them. “Thank you.” She closes her eyes and nods in sincerity. “This is the Way.”

Din tilts his head at their ally. “This is the Way.”

Astra’s the last to finish off their call and response. “This is the Way.”

The sound of a large piece of rubble crashing around them draws their collective attention back to the destruction they’re surrounded by. Bo-Katan’s the first to address it. “We ought to get going.” She pauses only once she observes Astra more closely. “That’s not your own blood, is it?” She gestures to the streaks of blood smeared on Astra’s armor near the sight of her wound.

Astra glances at Din and takes a deep breath. “Not all of it.” She nods at Bo-Katan. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

Bo-Katan returns her nod to agree, lifting her gauntlet as she speaks into it. “Kryze to Woves, what’s your status?”

After a brief pause, Bo gets a response. “Regrouping with the others. And you?”

Bo-Katan looks at Din and Astra with a small smile of relief. “Gideon is dead. The Djarins and I are about to rendezvous with the group. What’s your location?”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll send the coordinates.”

“Copy that.”

Bo-Katan finds her helmet and Din uses the moment to check on Astra again. He sets a hand on her shoulder, and after her gaze meets his visor, she wraps her arms around him. Din delights in the feeling of her head resting upon the inside of the shoulder Grogu hasn’t already claimed. Only the presence of one other person could make this moment even sweet.

Din and Astra pull away from each other when Bo-Katan joins them once again, her helmet now secured over her head. She gestures to the opening above them. “You two can follow me.”

She takes off with her jetpack, leading Din and Astra to do the same. Din keeps Grogu tight in one arm and reaches for Astra’s hand with the other, sharing a quick glance with her and seeing her bright smile of relief. He speaks to her, raising his voice above the rushing wind. “You know who we’ll get to see.”

Astra’s smile widens even more. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about!” she responds. “Other than…” She trails off, as if saying the words will keep her thought from coming true.

Din grants her unspoken wish. “Home.” He smiles with her and hopes she can sense it. “That’s where we’re going as soon as we’re done here, just like I promised.” Din glances at Grogu’s sleeping form against his shoulder. “There’s just one last thing left for us to do.”

Astra nods, as dutiful as ever. It makes Din want to fall apart. The events of the entire day haven’t caught up with him quite yet, but Astra’s dying wish to go home is something that’s stuck with him and always will. He already wants to kick himself for not providing her with one sooner.

It’s not long before the dozens of landed Gauntlets appear in the distance. When they get closer, Din notices that most of the Mandalorians are either helping to set up a temporary camp or tending to the wounded. Din and Astra land on the crystallized surface and immediately start to scour the group for the caretakers. They look near the wounded first and make their way through the rest of the makeshift camp with urgency.

“Papa! Mama!” Zora finds them first.

Din and Astra whip themselves around at the same time, watching as Zora manages to climb out of the pod alongside her caretaker and waddle her way towards them. Astra’s the first one to close the distance between them, falling onto her knees as she takes Zora in her arms. Din kneels beside Astra and sets his hand upon her back. He’s hit with a confusing mixture of joy, relief, and sympathy at the sight of Zora and Astra grabbing onto each other so tightly, with Astra’s hand securing Zora’s head against her and her eyes screwed shut.

Din wraps his entire arm around Astra and rests his helmet against her head, joining her in closing his eyes as he holds his entire family in his arms. It’s the first time he’s been able to do so without having to worry about what comes next. Everything is just as it should be; Their physical home is in reach.

But as far as Din’s concerned, he’s at home right here with his family.

When Astra lifts Zora from her shoulder, she’s shed just a single tear, making Zora wrinkle her brow as she reaches forward to wipe it away. “Mama sad?”

“No, my angel,” Astra assures her in the gentlest way. “Mama is happy. So, so happy.”

Din smiles to himself at their exchange and takes a quick moment to stand and set the sleeping Grogu in the pod. He thanks the caretaker and they nod before returning to where they’d come from. Din keeps the pod close when he kneels back at Astra’s side just in time to hear Zora’s next observation. “Mama hurt.” She whines and points at Astra’s stained armor.

“No, Zo, not anymore.” Astra brushes a hand over Zora’s curls and nods at her. “Don’t worry about me. Okay? Papa and I are both just fine.”

Astra’s words make Zora’s head turn towards her father. She smiles so wide she has to take excited breaths as she reaches towards Din. “Papa!” Zora all but shrieks. “My Papa!”

Din chuckles and takes Zora from Astra’s arms, letting her little hands grab at the sides of his helmet. “Zozo!” he tries to match her excited tone. Din exhales and rests his helmet against her tiny forehead. “We missed you so much, baby girl.” Din closes his eyes and fights for composure as the weight of the day starts to get heavier. “So much.”

Din senses Astra’s hand on his shoulder while Zora taps his helmet to get his attention. “Papa hap?”

“Yeah.” Din chuckles again and takes one of her tiny hands between his fingers and this thumb. “Papa is happy, too.”

Zora giggles as she wraps her free hand under the lip of Din’s helmet. She makes no move to lift it, instead keeping it in place. “Gogu eepy.”

“Yes, Zo,” Astra laughs from Din’s side. “Grogu is sleepy from being so brave today.” Astra holds the far side of Din’s helmet to pull it towards her for a kiss on his beskar cheek. “And so was Papa.”

“Goo’ Gogu!” Zora cheers. “Goo’ Papa!”

“And so was Mama,” Din adds, tilting his helmet at Astra.

“Goo’ Mama!”

“And so were you.” Din taps Zora’s nose with his finger.

“Goo’... Zo?” Zora tilts her head just as Din does with his helmet.

“Exactly, Zozo.” Din takes her tiny hand and slides it underneath his helmet for a kiss on her fingers.

Zora flaps her free arm with joy. “Luh’ Papa!” She kisses his visor with a big muah! Din beams and watches her look at Astra. “Luh’ Mama!” Zora taps her own cheek and steals her hand back from Din to sign please in Tusken. Astra leans her face close enough for Zora to give her a muah! on the cheek. Zora whispers her last one. “Luh’ Gogu.” She sets a finger over her lips. “Gogu eepy.”

“And the three of us are next.” Astra’s tone matches Zora’s hushed one as she nods at Din. “We should find a tent.”

“We’ve already got one set up for you.” Bo-Katan’s voice makes both Din and Astra turn their heads to look up at her. Her helmet’s tucked under her arm as she smiles at them, her injured hand now bandaged. “It’s the least we could do for you after everything you did for our effort.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more help out here?” Din gestures to those who are still finishing with the setup of the camp.

“No, Din, thank you.” Bo-Katan bows her head at him with respect. “Please, get some rest.”

Din keeps Zora in his arms as he stands and helps Astra to do the same. “Thank you, Bo-Katan,” Astra says as Din sets Zora beside Grogu’s sleeping form in the pod. Din stands alongside Astra again and sets his hand on her back.

“This is the Way.” Bo-Katan nods once more before she turns and leads the family to their tent. She leaves them once they step inside, their makeshift beds already set up for them. There’s even a hearty serving of food for each of them, though with Grogu and now Zora both already asleep in their pod, Din and Astra set aside their children’s portions for later. They prioritize eating their own shares before getting comfortable for the night.

The exhaustion of the day catches up to Astra much faster than it does to Din. By the time he’s gotten both of their suits of armor pushed aside, Astra’s already somehow managed to fall asleep on their shared bed. For a fleeting moment, Din worries it’s not sleep, and he rushes over to her side to see her up close. When Din observes the steady rise and fall of her chest, he exhales a breath of relief, his gaze finding her stained armor.

Din should join Astra in her rest, but as tired as his body is, he can’t. He’s not a fearful man, but he’s afraid of what awaits him in his dreams tonight, and so Din sits by their armor and starts to clean every piece of it. He starts with Astra’s, with hers needing the most help. Washing off the dirt and grime is routine to Din and something he’s always enjoyed doing.

Then, he reaches the blood.

Din freezes, staring at the blood-streaked beskar. What hurts him most is not knowing if the blood there is the Imperial commando’s or his wife’s. Those were both situations she got in because she was trying to help Din. If he hadn’t let himself get captured, if he had just stayed in the back of the group with Astra instead…

Din clutches the piece of armor tightly and closes his eyes. He has to see it happen all over again. The look in her eyes when the blade ran through, the words she said when she thought they would be her last, and the stalling of her chest when Din’s galaxy stopped for what’s been the longest moment of his life. It’s the second time Din’s thought he’s lost her. He did lose her, if only for a second or two.

Din cries. He never lets himself do this, especially in front of his family, but they’re all asleep and the weight of the day has fully fallen upon him, now. He does his best to keep his cries muffled so as to not wake his family, but he’s gone past trying to hold them back. Din’s plagued with thoughts of their clan dropping from four to three, and the bed for two in their new home always having an open space. It was so close to happening, too close.

Astra’s arms wrap around Din from behind and hold him tight. She lifts a hand to turn his cheek closer to her, allowing her to rest her forehead against the side of his head. Din’s already started to relax at her presence, but he makes himself take deep breaths to calm the cries that have been rocking him. Astra kisses the tears away on the cheek closest to her, her love and her patience knowing no bounds.

Din closes his eyes and fights not to let another cry slip out when he speaks in a trembling voice. “I’m sorry.”

Astra shakes her head and kisses his temple. “Please don’t carry this guilt, my love. It’s not yours to bear.”

“I just…” Din’s hands find hers that are still wrapped around him and he threads his fingers through hers. “I need you to know I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Astra’s kisses move to his bare shoulder. “I know how many burdens you set upon your shoulders, Din.” She sets her chin there and squeezes his hands, asking for his attention. He gives it to her and meets her pleading gaze. “I barely remember what happened. All I remember is the strength you lended me.” Astra squeezes his hands with hers. “So, please, share this burden with me. Let me take some of the weight for you.”

Din’s gaze admires her with amazement. He shakes his head in awe of her. “You’ve always been so much stronger than me.” He manages a huff of amusement. “You were the one who had to resuscitate me from drowning.”

Astra clicks her tongue and lifts a hand to hold his cheek. “That was different, Din. I promise you.”

“And what about Nevarro?”

Astra smiles at him. “We both knew you were being dramatic.” They share a soft laugh before Astra releases her hold on him and brings herself in front of him. She takes the piece of armor out of his lap and sets it aside, taking his face and easing his forehead against her own. “Jokes aside, that does still haunt me, as you know from Tatooine.” Astra nods at him. “But you helped me take that burden from the start, and it’s gotten easier over time. Let me do the same for you.”

Din searches Astra’s sincere gaze before he nods. Astra offers him another smile.

“The way you process this might look different than the way I do, and that’s okay.” Astra brushes her thumbs over his face. “Just let me be a part of your healing journey. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Din nods once more. “Okay.” He lifts a hand to brush over her ear. “I love you, Astra.”

Astra’s smile grows. “I love you too, Din.” She kisses him, a breathtaking gesture that suspends in time. Astra pulls away and gestures to the pile of armor beside them. “Now, let’s finish cleaning our armor together so we can get you to sleep.”

Din smiles and steals one more quick kiss before he gets her a cloth to help him. Astra takes care of the pieces with blood on them, letting Din and his mind take a break from the visual. Together, they work through everything much faster than Din had on his own, and it’s not much longer before they’re lying together for the night.

And as Din manages to fall asleep, he doesn’t dream of the horrors he thought he would. Instead, thanks to the way Astra’s freed his mind, he dreams of the flowers he’s going to grow in the garden of their home for her, and how beautiful she’ll look with them on their second wedding day.

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#i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x oc #din djarin x female oc #the mandalorian x oc #security #dindjarindiaries

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elenaaadaniels · 2 years ago

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Chapter Nineteen: My Girl

Part 20

Warning(s); Nothing too bad. Fluff, kissing, Din admitting he's a smol bean

___________________________________

Hey. It's all me in my head. I'm the one who burned us down. But it's not what I meant. Sorry that I hurt you. I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you. I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you. I need to say, hey. It's all me, just don't go. Meet me in the afterglow.

- 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘉𝘺 𝘛𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵 ___________________________________

Taking a swing of the shot Bo-Katan got for her, Nadia fought the chills and burning sensation in her throat. She was angry. Angry and hurt that the alcohol in front of her wasn't a good mix she should have, but she was taking it anyway. Din watched behind his visor, surprised when she placed down her fourth shot glass wondering if he should take away the glass now or later.

" How did you know where we were?" Nadia asked breaking the small silence around them.

Bo-katan faced her," It's not every day a Mandalorian other than us is in town."

" Or with two sidekicks." Koska Reeves mumbled.

Din cleared his voice taking charge," I gather your not here for just drinks." He hinted causing Bo-Katan to nod back at him.

" Trask is a black market port. They're staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet." She explained turning to her comrades before continuing." We're seizing those weapons and using them to retake our home world. Once we've done that, we'll seat a new Mandalore on the throne."

" That planet is cursed. Anyone who goes there dies. Once the Empire knew they couldn't control it, they made sure no one else could either."

Bo-Katan laughed at Din's words," Don't believe everything you hear." She replied smugly." Our enemies wanna separate us. But Mandalorians are stronger together."

Din shook his head," That's not part of my plan. I've been quested with returning this Child to the Jedi."

" What do you know of the Jedi?" Bo-Katan questioned.

" Nothing." Nadia interjected." We never met one."

" I was hoping you would help me by Creed." Din added

" I can lead you to one of their kind. But first, we need your help on our mission."

Nadia frowned," Mission?"

" Not you. You don't share Mandalorian honor."

" If I go, she goes." Din defended and if it was any other time, Nadia would of blushed at his words, but all she could do was roll her eyes.

Bo-katan nodded at his words knowing she needed the help, only secretly hoping Nadia knew what she was doing. Paying for the drinks and food, Bo-Katan lead the way to the ports where it was clear in the distance, a freighter was loading up unaware of the five staring at it.

" You see that Imperial Gozanti freighter?" Bo-Katan questioned turning to Din." It's being loaded with weapons as we speak. According to the port's manifest, it's scheduled to depart at first light."

" So we stow away?"

" We've been hitting 'em pretty hard. They scan for life forms as a precaution before pushing back." Koska explained looking over to Nadia seeing she was nodding her head.

" If you wanna do this with five, you're gonna need the element of surprise."

" Exactly." Bo-Katan agreed cracking a smile to Nadia." The freighter will maintain trawling speed while inside the shipping lanes and then ascend in orbit. We'll jet up when they're cruising in atmosphere. The tower won't allow them to climb until they've left the port's airspace."

Din seemed uneasy," Troopers?"

" A squad at most." Bo-Katan admitted." And they couldn't hit the side of a bantha."

" Okay, we're in." Din agreed looking down to Nadia expecting her to nod, but she never faced him." but we need to drop the kiddo at someone's."

" You have someone to trust?" Axe questioned causing Nadia to turn towards him.

" I have a person in mind." She said standing up and carefully placing the child on her hip.

They carefully slid off of the broken razor crest agreeing on where to meet before Din and Nadia broke away to take the child somewhere safe. He wanted to question where she had in mind for the child to go, but during their walk, almost sped walk not wanting to be by his side or even look in his direction. It made his own stomach turn and he cursed at himself for screwing up so badly. She stopped by a small little hut knocking on the door three times before it opened to the frog lady they helped earlier in the day.

" Hi. Remember me?" She greeted causing the lady to joyfully greet them back." Something's come up. Can I leave him with you for a bit?"

The frog lady spoke to her and a part of Din wish he had learned their language as well to be in the mix.

" She said of course. Anything after bring her eggs." She interpreted for him.

Din nodded his head looking to the child while Nadia handed him over.

" You are gonna stay here, so I want you to be respectful. And mind your manners." He sternly warned." You know what I'm talking about. Thanks. I'll be back for him."

Nadia smiled bending down to the child," Pinkie promise me, you'll be on your best behavior." She said getting a coo out of the child while he wrapped his whole hand around her finger." That's my little guy."

She kissed the top of his head getting another coo out of the child before turning back and leaving the hut with Din. She completely ignored him once again checking her weapons as she walked making sure they were good enough for the mission.

" Nadia-"

" I really don't want to talk right now." She interrupted sharply." We should keep a clear head for the mission."

He shook his head," But Nadia-"

" Not now." She said the last word in a stern voice.

Din could feel the tension radiating from her body and knew she had small tears in her eyes from the way they shined, but she didn't want to admit it. Turning back around just as quickly and continued to walk.

" Haar'chak" He cursed at himself knowing he done much more than screw himself over.

When they got to the meeting point, Bo-Katan went over the plan one more time reminding everyone of their duties. The freighter started up with a loud roar slowly building up before lifting off of the platform and into the air. Bo-Katan nodded her heading giving the signal and soon they all flew up towards the ship. Din held Nadia tightly gaining closer and closer to the ship before they both landed to the sight of stormtroopers.

" Pirates." The one trooper spoke, but Koska grabbed them up throwing them over the edge.

Axe opened the main hull and Bo-Katan was the first to go in taking down three as easily as she could before nodding for them that the coast was safe. They entered the empty hull, but it only lasted seconds before more troopers entered firing at them. Din was quick. He grabbed Nadia by her waist pulling her to the corner and shielding her body with his from any fire power.

" Stop protecting me." She seethed glaring up at him.

He completely ignored her grabbing his arm and placing her behind him with the other Mandalorian's shot their way closer and closer to the hull until no other troopers stood. One trooper came from the corner and quickly, Nadia got her blaster out getting them square in the chest.

" Go, go, go!"

They were all jogging this time through the halls turning left and right until another group of troopers came from the elevator shooting at them. They all hid in the corner watching Din pull a detonator from his side and throw it towards the troopers blinding them all. Through their helmets, they saw the heat signature shooting them through the haze and getting in the elevator.

" Nice shot on that trooper." Bo-Katan complimented looking to Nadia.

She nodded," Thanks."

" I got fifteen reads on troopers where we're going." Axe warned looking onto his coms before back to Bo-Katan." Plan?"

" Flush them out."

When the doors opened, the troopers fired at them all at once until the doors had shut completely dividing them from each other.

" Okay, flush them out now." Bo-Katan ordered causing Axe to open the cargo hatch and rid of any troopers.

When the doors did open, the cargo area was completely empty of troopers and all packages that were inside were perfectly intact latched down ahead of time. Nadia could hear the pleased laugh come from Bo-Katan before she took her helmet off watching as Axe and Koska lifted the case off of each box showing each weapon inside.

" Do you copy?"

Everyone looked to the group where the Imperial solider's comlink was. Bo-Katam gave a satisfied smile before scooping it off the ground and pressing the audio.

" I copy. Thanks for packing up all this gear so nicely. Imagine what a division of us can do when we get our hands on what's inside these shiny little boxes."

" If you think you're going to escape with those weapons, you are sadly mistaken." The man threatened on the other end of the line." Even if you've managed to jettison a few of those crates, we will comb the entire area until you are hunted down and killed."

" Oh, we're not jettisoning anything. We're taking the entire ship."

That instantly caught up to Din and Nadia's ears causing them to turn in shock at the change in plans.

" What?"

Bo-Katan ignored them however," Put some tea on." She ordered." We'll be up in a minute."

With the coms off, Nadia didn't hesitate to march up to the sneaky woman.

" Excuse me, but this is more than I signed up for." She said eying the woman with a hint of a glare.

" There is something I need." She confessed turning to Din once he came over to them." if I am to rule Mandalore. Something that was once mine. They know where it is and soon, so will I. Regardless, we are taking the ship for the battles ahead."

Din shook his head," I got you your weapons. I have to return to my ship with the foundling."

" If you want my help finding the Jedi, you will help me take this ship." She bargained going over what Din had said.

Nadia accused harshly," You're changing the terms of the deal."

" This is the way." She echoed eying the Mandalorian down before placing her helmet on leaving.

Axe and Koska followed close behind leaving Din and Nadia in the empty hull unable to say a word because they needed to find the Jedi in order to help the child. Nadia could sense the anger from Din, and grabbed her blaster from her side nudging his side.

" Let's just do it."

Din knew she was right. Taking the ship would delay them, but they needed the information to help the child and they made it this far for nothing. He grabbed his blaster coming to Nadia's side following right behind the others until the entire ship dove forward.

" They're taking the ship down!" Bo-Katan shouted over the alarms." There's the bridge. Come on!"

The minute the words left her mouth, troopers rounded the corner of the bridge firing at them that it was a miracle they had time to hide.

" How many troopers?"

" Six to ten." Axe announced peering over the corner." Two with heavy repeating blasters."

" We're losing altitude fast."

" We need to move now."

" They have too much firepower!"

" Still dropping." Koska reminded." Ten thousand."

" Cover me." Din said abandoning Nadia's side before she could even grab him.

"Mando!" She shouted in horror, but did as he told, grabbing her blaster and covering him the best she could from the troopers firepower.

Din threw his detonators at the troopers causing it to explode on contact getting rid of all the troopers in a ball of fire. When the flames went down, Nadia left the others side touching Din's shoulder lightly burning herself from the beskar's warmth.

" Din, can you hear me?"

He nodded his head getting back up," Come on!"

She nodded hitting the control button and having the doors open to a single imperial solider forcing the controls down to plummet the ship. Din rushed over ripping the solider from the seat and taking his place while Nadia hopped over the second one grabbing the wheel.

" Easy. Easy." Din coaxed.

With all her mighty, she pulled on the wheel with a small fear it would break off and screw them all, but to the luck of the maker, the ship sloped up just in time heading back into the atmosphere. With less of a struggle, she released some of her hold turning to Din as the two couldn't suppress the small chuckle of relief.

" I'll let you live." Bo-Katan seethed breaking them from their laughter." But you will take me to him."

" You might let me live, but he won't." The man answered biting down and sending volts of electricity throughout his body firing his brain within seconds.

" No!" Bo-Katan shouted in anger letting the man fall to the ground.

" We have to go." Koska warned turning to her." He sent a distress signal."

" Clear the atmosphere and prepare to jump."

Din nudged Nadia's side immediately," Come on."

" Are you sure you won't join us?" Bo-Katan questioned facing the two helpers.

" There's something I need to do."

" The offer stands if you change your mind."

Din nodded back," Where can I find the Jedi?"

Bo-Katan nodded removing her helmet for them to hear her clearly," Take the foundling to the city of Calodan on the forest planet of Corvus." She instructed." There you will find Ahsoka Tano. Tell her you were sent by Bo-Katan. And thank you. Your bravery will not be forgotten. Yours too. This is the Way."

" This is the Way." Din repeated grabbing Nadia's hands as they raced through the ship once again getting to the main entrence.

Once on the balcony, Nadia gulped at the distance from here to the ground wrapping her arms around Din's neck who was already wrapping her in his arms. Jumping from the edge, she squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling of falling until he turned on his jetpack flying them over to the familiar hut the child was staying at. Once on the ground, she thanked her stars before slowly walking to the hut doors and knocking until it opened. A smile pasted on her face when seeing the child with the frog parents and a little tadpole in front of them already hatched.

" There's my little guy." She chuckled walking over.

" Thank you for watching him." He said shaking the parents hands before lightly taking the child." Okay, kid. Come on. It's time to go. Congratulations."

As they left however, the child wiggled in Din's arms trying to go back to the little tadpole determine written on his wrinkly little face.

" No, I have enough pets." Din muttered causing the child to let out of frustrated huff.

Nadia shook her head at the little guy feeling both sleep and exhaustion start to creep up on her after the last two days they endured. She knew it would continue however when they got to the port to see the horrible state their ship was still left in. Rope was literally holding the crest together with different sheets of metal in oddly placed areas.

" I gave you a thousand credits, this was the best you could do?" He questioned the worker only for them to place a pad in front of Din to be able to gain their credits.

Din was too tired to care sending the credits his way and boarded onto the Crest. To say the least, the outside was much nicer than the inside. Fishing net was what was holding up the inside with the salty smell of the ocean still lingering inside and some seaweed hanging on the side of the seats.

" Mon Calamari. Unbelievable."

" Do you think we're even safe to travel like this?" Nadia said taking a seat only to gag when she had slimy seaweed on it.

" I don't even think we have a choice." Din answered turning on the ship only for it to shake violently from the action." On second thought. I think we need to make a pit stop."

Nadia nodded her head touching her keypads with the tip of her fingers from how slimy it was placing in the planet Corvus. She could see it was A forested planet, but any living plant was burned away, plundering the natural resources of the planet. The child cooed in an odd manner that caused both Din and Nadia to see a creature about to attack him, but Din caught it in time seeing it was a sea animal.

" Eat it." Din groaned tossing it to the child who caught it with his small mouth and gobbled it up." I finally know where I'm taking you. But it's gonna be a bumpy ride."

" Is the main hull secured?" Nadia asked spinning in her seat.

" Yeah."

" Alright, little guy." She breathed standing up and holding him." Now that you ate, let's get you something to drink and off to bed."

The child let out a sound likely trying to argue with her, but it was too cute to take serious. Din heard them head down the ladder before the doors closed leaving him alone in the cockpit. He took a deep breath leaning against his seat as the nerves turned his stomach. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her how scared he was when she fell into that river and how much he loved holding her while they slept. He wanted to tell her how he never felt this with anyone and it scared him, but that was the thing. He was scared.

Frightened. Terrified. Petrified. Intimated.

He never had something like this before. A lone solider his whole life and now he had the little green kid that replied on him and someone that made his heart soar all around the galaxy. When the going got tough, he shut himself off, but it was different now. He didn't just have himself anymore. It didn't take long before Nadia got the child to sleep. He must have gotten little sleep to likely placing with the tadpole all night and day with the parents. The minute she heard him snore loudly, she knew he was out for the night and placed him in his little bunk.

She wanted to join the little guy, but one glance at the main hull and she was off moving some things to clean the area seeing the Mon Calmari really did do such a terrible job. She was busy throwing away some seaweed into a trash bag to hear Din come down the ladder. He nervously took a deep breath hearing his voice already shaky.

" I don't regret saving you." He spoke causing her to glance over to him before turning back to what she was doing.

" You sure regret something."

" I don't regret anything." He repeated walking closer to her." You are always worth saving."

" Well, it didn't feel like that for the last two days." She snapped dropping the trash bag onto the floor and walking further away from him.

He nodded his head agreeing with her." It just keeps replaying in my head. What happened. What could of happened." He continued walking again towards her." I just never felt like this with someone like how I feel about you."

Nadia was shocked. She placed the rag down that she was using and turned over to him with wide eyes unable to focus on a single word.

" Oh."

Din nodded again taking her hands into his," Nadia...I'm not best at this. I don't know what I'm doing." He admitted getting a small chuckle out of her." I think for the first time ever, I don't know what to do and I don't want to screw it up. Until you, all I knew was a bad kind of love. You're different."

She smiled staring at the Mandalorian in front of her that could make her heart skip a beat and sometimes upset over the silliest of things. She leaned forward standing on her toes to be able to kiss him on his beskar forehead.

" You're different for me too." She admitted staring at his visor." You just need to remember, I'm not a stranger. You can tell me anything. I'm not going anywhere."

Those words buried into his brain so deep that part of his fears were healed. She wasn't just some stranger anymore. She was someone who knew who he truly was over these eight months. Someone that made him smile under the helmet and blush all at the same time.

" Close your eyes." He instructed and she smile instantly knowing what he mean't.

He smiled himself placing his hands at the edge of his helmet and slipping it off with a hiss of air. He trusted Nadia more than he trusted anyone. Knew he didn't have to tie something over her eyes cause she would never dare to see him. Even now in the empty main hull, she squeezed her eyes shut. With the helmet off, he could see her more clearer. The lamp dim gave her skin more of a bronze hue soft to the touch. He couldn't help, but to take his glove off and touch her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, a smile on her face as her cheeks flared pink. Din’s cuirass freezes as he holds a breath in his chest, his gloved hands brushing down her back and holding her waist as he silently urges her closer. Nadia kept her hands on the sides of his helmet, looking at him with all the affection and care she held in her heart for him. When he releases the breath he’s been holding, Din speaks, his modulated rasp nearly breaking with desperation as he says the two words that change everything.

" Be my girl."

She laughs a sweet one that it's music to his ears.

" Only if you'll be my Mandalorian."

He smiles leaning forward kissing her right on the lips.

He's overwhelmed with a wave of such warmth that for a moment he think he might be burning alive. But then every sense within him comes alive, bursting in a beautiful display of pure affection as he urges Nadia even closer. His hands cups the side of her face as they continue to kiss. Nadia can feel the way their hearts come together the same way their mouths have, each simultaneous beat matching the movements of lips. They don’t stop until they’re sweetly suffocated by everything, pulling away with heavy yet satisfied breaths. Nadia smiled at him—and he smiled right back at her.

" You make everything in my life just seem a bit brighter." He admitted leaning his forehead against hers.

" Is that a bad thing?" She asked worried.

" It's something I'm not use to." He clarifies moving some hair behind her ear." Something about you makes me feel a little more alive and less lost."

" You never thought you'd get this attached did you?" She chuckles causing him to nod against her.

" No, but I don't want it to stop." He admits kissing her forehead." Why...why don't you sleep in my bunk with me tonight?"

She's surprised," Really?"

" It's clear we both get a goodnights rest when we're together." He bargained, but she nodded wanting to be close as they were two nights ago.

Din guided her over to his bunk turning the lamps off in the main hull to plunge the ship into complete darkness. He carefully tried to take off the beskar only for it to fall onto the ground a bit loudly with a girlish laugh from Nadia.

" Din, are you okay?"

" Guess I failed in being quiet." He spoke causing another laugh from her.

With all the beskar gone, he used muscle memory to walk over to the bunk carefully slipping in to not both crush Nadia or accidentally hurt her. Once he was settled in, she curled up to his side resting her head on his chest while he placed his arm around her waist scooting her closer. She breathed in his scent seeing after there mission, he still smelled like men's soap a just a bit of cologne. She felt a pang of nervousness wondering if she smelled like seaweed from earlier cleaning, but when he buried his face into his hair, she knew either way he didn't care. Nadia could feel herself falling asleep. One moment in her mind and the next almost in a dream when he spoke softly into the night.

" I won't let anything hurt you, Cyar'ika."

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 10 months ago

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Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Hearts shifted

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Did everyone watch the three new episodes for Bad Batch? I was anxious, tears welled up, happy, frustrated. In short, my emotions were all over the place. But I can't wait to see the next episode.

Anyway, have a lovely weekend.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: physical closeness, grooming horses, scents, brush discussions, Din being adorable. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 1,016 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

Chapter Eight

She’d been so focused on Din’s instructions and her own actions, she hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten; at least, not until she turned her head to look at him and then their eyes locked. Suddenly, the world stilled as her eyes slowly took in his features, felt the brush of his breath against her cheek, the woodsy, leather, gun oil scent that filled her nostrils. Her body realized and became all too aware of how close he was - - how his shirt and the warmth from his body brushed against her back, how the heat of his hand seeped into her own as he guided her.

In that moment there was nothing but a rushing hum in my ears, as the blood pushed through my veins without restraint, as my heart started thumping in my chest.

All thoughts, questions, everything just stopped as I looked deep into his warm, kind and chestnut coloured eyes.

I tried to remember the last time someone looked at me with such kindness and warmth, the fact that nothing came straight to my mind caused my heart to lurch.

Time seemed to have lost all meaning in that moment, it was only when Misty shifted and knocked her leash against the barn breaking the weird tension between us, that I finally looked elsewhere.

I cleared my throat, shifting away from him a little, hoping he didn’t think I found him uncomfortable. In reality, it wasn’t him that made me uncomfortable, it was that weird feeling in my heart that sent a tingling sensation down my arms to my hands.

“I think I got it.” I stated as I found my strength once again, now that I wasn’t looking at him or sensing his warmth.

Din cleared his throat, nodding as he rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t meant to invade her personal space, or to be so close that he could practically smell the soft, spicy, citrusy, balsamic scent coming off her, it was so different from anything Camilla had ever worn before. Was it her shampoo or was that her body wash? Maybe it was her lotion? Either way, he found himself leaning a little to smell it once again. He dug his nails into his palm, getting him to fight back to reality. He closed his eyes, letting the pain in his hands snap him out of whatever that was, he shifted away from her. He opened his eyes focusing on Misty, grounding himself as he tried to understand what just happened. Why did he just … he shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand.

“Good. Once you finish currying Misty, then we move on to brushing her coat.”

“Are there different brushes for each stage?”

Din shifted his head, “Yes and no. There are different types of horse brush, for example a body brush, great for removing dust, dried sweat from fine coats. Great for improving circulation and evenly distributing natural oils within the coat. Then there’s a dandy brush, used for bushing off mud, dander and grease, ideal for heavy or coarse coats. It’s too harsh for fine coated horses, such as thoroughbreds, and usually used during winter months when coats are thicker. There’s a flick brush, designed to flex and flick away debris, they’re best used after an initial groom, like we are.” He reached over and passed the flick brush to Ann, “There’s two types of flick brushes, one for fine coats and one for coarse coats. I also have a water brush, which is pretty self explanatory, a finishing brush which you use in the final step in the grooming process, used to polish and create an ultra shine. Then you have your grooming mitt, which is a soft fluffy mitt that can be used instead of a finishing brush. Finally, you have what’s called a curry comb, which cleans your brushes, keeps them lasting longer, and keeps them clean causing them to work better. Anyway, for the flick brush, you want to use short flicking motions to brush off the dirt we dislodged. Brush the area we just went over, and remember to avoid the head, mane, tail and lower legs. So begin at the neck and work your way around, following the direction of the hair growth.”

I nodded taking in everything he said, I glanced over my shoulder seeing him turn to walk away, “Where are you going?” The question was out of my mouth before I could even stop it, not sure why I was even caring where he went. It wasn’t any of my business.

“I’m gonna check on Bessie, you mentioned earlier, you thought she was in pain, so I’m gonna go see if she’s alright.” He nodded, tipping his head towards me before heading off to look for Bessie.

It was a while before Din came back, he looked at Misty, eyeing the work I did.

“Great job, now onto the next step.” He directed me to bring over Taika and start the process over with him. By the time we finished lunch had already come and gone, it was almost two in the afternoon. I glanced at my watch and realized he must be just as hungry as I am.

He didn’t know why but just watching her as she rested against the corral while Taika and Misty were grazing, made him realize what Cobb mentioned when he brought her to the ranch. What was it again, ‘You know Ann’s not all that bad, she seems sweet. Easy on the eyes, and has a very enjoyable laugh.’ He couldn’t deny it, she wasn’t all that bad, and yeah she was easy on the eyes. He didn’t find her drop dead gorgeous, but she was quite pretty and very capable. Despite never having worked on a farm before she was very reliable, willing to learn and was always asking questions. In fact, he hadn’t had to wake her up or remind her to have dinner ready for Grogu once. She just sort of fell into place. Kind of like she belonged.

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handspunyarns · 1 year ago

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You Were Marked: Day Seven point Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 4 K

chapter summary: Din's foster father, always quick with axioms, had this to say about being face-down: don’t forget, your ass is wide-open, kid.

warnings: head injury, severe bodily injury, blood, sexual abuse, physical abuse, violence towards women, torture, allusion to rape, enmeshed misogyny, Mando'a and English cursing

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Din awoke to find himself completely disoriented with his head and neck in terrible pain. His first instinct was to panic, but he took a shallow breath — which was all he seemed to be able to manage — and remembered to follow the steps his buir, his foster father, taught him.

What can you see? The quick answer to that was fuck-all but he wasn’t sure if that was because his visor had no power or if it was nighttime.

What can you hear? What he could hear were whispered voices. The voices were shrill and panicky and sounded like women. Three, perhaps four. They seemed to be behind him, but close by.

What can you feel? This was easy: he felt like hammered shit, and he believed he meant that literally. To be more specific: he was face-down, on the ground, more than likely under a tree, since it seemed a knobby root was poking his upper thigh. His foster father, always quick with axioms, had this to say about being face-down: don’t forget, your ass is wide-open, kid. His head was splitting with pain, and it seemed as if there was a heavy sofa lying on him, pinning him to the ground. Why the shab a large sofa would be anywhere near where he happened to be made no sense whatsoever, but then very little made sense to Din anymore.

Din started to lift his arm, to check on his helmet settings, when he felt a hand gently push his arm back down. “Be still, Bounty Hunter,” quietly said one of the voices.

“Marathel?” asked Din, confused.

“No … no. She is still in the Hold.”

Din groaned. Everything must have gone wrong, and he must have fucked up royally. “Olba?”

“Yes, it’s me. No, don’t move, you were hit very hard with the marchwyl.”

“Is that the big hammer?”

“Yes. It dented your helmet, split your skull, and addled your brain. You’ve been mostly sleeping all day.”

The only thing to dent beskar is … beskar, thought Din. That hammer is made of beskar. How did it get here? “Did you …”

“No, Bounty Hunter, we did not remove your helmet. You were very adamant about that during the moments you were awake. I did reach under your helmet, though, to dress the wound as best I could.”

“Why can’t I move?”

“You were fighting us when we were trying to help you. There are three women sitting on you.”

“Could they … not?” Olba motioned for her companions to get off Din, and with her help, Din slowly got to a sitting position. “Thank you for tending to me.” Din checked his helmet and found that the vision function on his visor was completely knocked out, and it was full dark now.

“Where is the child, Bounty Hunter?” asked Olba.

Grogu! Haar’chak! How could I forget? Din began to struggle up, but Olba held him down.

“Be still, Bounty Hunter! Is the child in your flying ship?”

“How did you know …”

“Times I have been outside the Hold, I have seen you and the child with Marathel. She must have been so happy to care for a little one again.”

“She … she was.” Din tried to raise the comm.link on his helmet, but it seemed his helmet no longer functioned at all. “I must … must check on the kid … I need to get Marathel …” Din tried to stand, but he had no sense of balance, and his head was pounding fit to explode. He fell back down to his hip.

“You need to rest, Bounty Hunter …”

“I need to get in there and get Marathel out!”

“You can’t. You can’t, Bounty Hunter.”

Din swallowed, which made his head throb painfully into his jaw. Any tears that might have threatened his eyes remained there by sheer will. “They’re going to kill her, aren’t they?”

Olba sighed. “No, not directly. But she will die from … what they do to her when they make her a Belwhyn.” Olba spit out this last word with disgust.

Din got up to his knees, but still could not stand. He looked down at the ground, his fingers tearing at the grass beneath his hands. “I can’t let them do that.” Olba put her arm around Din’s shaking shoulders. “I can’t let her sacrifice herself, Olba.”

Everything she has ever done was out of love, thought Olba. How she must love you and the child. “Bounty Hunter … do you have healers where you come from?”

Din sat back on his heels with a groan. “Doctors, medics, yes.”

“If … if we can get her out, will you take her with you?” The other women tittered at this in protest, but Olba shushed them. “We can get her, you can take her to a healer, and she might survive. If not … you will take her to somewhere beautiful, so that she may die in peace, with you and the child, away from this hell place. Will you do that?”

“You have my word.” Frith help her, please keep her alive. “But … can you also get that hammer?”

“The hammer?”

“It belongs to my people, Olba. It is made of the same metal as my armor. It has no place here.” Olba looked at Din, frowning. “Please, our beskar was stolen from us, we must have it back.”

One of the other women leaned forward. “Olba, we cannot! The Elders would strip us dead!”

Olba took a deep breath, and said to the woman, “Are we not already dead, Tymfy? We are Diwhyns. We are nothing anymore. If they kill me, my only regret is that they would get pleasure from doing so.” To Din, Olba said, “I will do my best. Stay here. If we can get Marathel out, we will bring her to you. The hammer, too. Frith help us all.”

Din nodded weakly. “Thank you.” His eyes had adjusted to the dark some by this time, and he looked at the older woman. She had removed her veil, and her hair was dark, curly, threaded through with grey. Her eyes were dark and filled with a lifetime of sadness. “Olba, tell me … are you Marathel’s mother?”

Olba dropped her eyes and shook her head. “No. She is ap Bishop, I am ap Captain.” What does that mean? wondered Din. “But I was at her birth, and her mother died as Marathel was born.” Din could just see her tears fall in the darkness. “I was her mam in all ways that mattered.” Olba stood. “You stay here, we will bring her out if we can. If not … I will close the door.” The women moved in a small, somber group to the heavy door.

“How long will it be?” asked Din. “When will you bring her out?”

“When they’re done with her.” The women disappeared inside.

Din no longer had a sense of time. Between his head wound and the damage to his helmet, time stretched out and compressed in a completely non-linear way. His concussion and his apparently addled brain came up with the phrase time has gone wibbly-wobbly, not that he really understood what the ever-loving kriff that meant. He knew that he slept some — or just passed out, really — as he leaned up against the tree, but he spent most of his waiting-time staring, unblinkingly, at the heavy, ajar door, willing it to open more.

Din thought briefly, several times, about running to check on Grogu, but he feared that the moment he would leave would be the exact moment the women would reappear. He felt certain that Grogu was relatively okay. The kid probably had eaten all the rations, including the secret stash. He had told Grogu in no uncertain terms to not come out of the ship, but Grogu had never been one to follow directions, except in the case of his beloved Mahr.

Please stay patient, kid, I’m doing my best here, and we can only wait. There is no other way.

He had heard two bursts of activity inside the Hold walls: once to call the young children in from the garden, and once when Diwhyns were called to come to the round building. Din hoped that the second call meant the end to whatever was happening to Marathel. Olba refused to elaborate what would happen there, but Din had too much knowledge of how brutal people could be. He had no idea what a Belwhyn was, but he knew it must be a horrible thing.

He tried to keep his mind clear and ready for what may come. Instead, he wondered if he should have made a trip back to the ship just to get some weapons … at least his favorite blaster.

He wished he’d gone to reassure Grogu, just to see him, and just to get reassurance himself that everything might be okay.

He wished he’d removed his helmet as Marathel had requested — what honor was there in denying a woman like her, when all she wanted was a simple kindness? Instead, he had volunteered so quickly to have a chance to just … fuck her when he knew, he knew, she was not fully in her own mind and body. What kind of Creed permitted that? What kind of honorable man did that?

He wondered why Rodanthe had left Marathel when she did, where she was now, if she knew that Marathel was suffering now, alone. Damn you, Rodanthe, she begged you for one more day, and you abandoned her. Did you think I could be a substitute for the love and affection Marathel deserves? Did you know what Marathel intended to do today?

He wondered why he didn’t anticipate Marathel’s actions, why he could only stand there like a hu’tuun when osik went sideways, why he didn’t consider that the bounty wasn’t for the damn eggs at all, but for her.

He cursed himself for getting besotted with her in the first place, for letting his dick get in the way of protecting his asset, for allowing Grogu to run the damn hunt when the kid held on to the woman’s ankle that very first afternoon, begging Din to let them stay at the hut.

Din’s head began pounding again, and what vision he had was getting wavy around the edges. He had to get Marathel and get the Crest in the air soon, otherwise he wouldn’t be fit to handle getting the ship into hyperspace.

Focus, focus, focus. The door will open, or the door will close. Until one of those things happens, you just need to be ready.

He could not stop his mind from wondering, however: what if that door closes?

The thought nearly brought Din back down prone to the ground. If that door closes, then … He could not carry on with that line of thinking. He closed his eyes against the throbbing in his skull; he flexed his fingers to keep blood flowing into his hands. He breathed in, he breathed out, he breathed …

“Bounty Hunter!” A sharp whisper came from just behind the door. “Help us!”

Din leapt to his feet and ran to the door, head injury forgotten, and he pushed open the door just enough to let the four women back through. Each woman held a corner of a woven blanket, and in the middle of the blanket lay a still female form, wrapped in red shrouds from head to foot. Din dropped to one knee and gathered the shrouded woman in his arms, knowing just by the woman’s shape and weight that it was Marathel. “Oh, mesh’la,” breathed Din, but Marathel neither moved nor made a sound. Din got back to his feet, turned, and ran as fast as he could manage through the woods back to the Crest, leaving the women to follow.

The four women were nearly as fast and nimble running as Marathel. Each one came up short, though, as they arrived at the Crest; Din had already set the ramp to lower by the time they caught up with him, and he began running up even before the ramp hit the ground. The outer hatch opened, spilling light into the clearing, momentarily blinding everyone, and in the middle of the doorway was Grogu, calling out, “Patu! Patu! Mahr! Mahr!”

“Gangway, Grogu!” shouted Din as he carried Marathel into the ship’s narrow side passage. Olba, braver than the rest, was on his heels; the other three women were reticent to come up the ramp into the strange metal hulk before them, as well as approach the little child who had large ears and happened to be green. “Where should I put her, Olba?”

“Somewhere she can have privacy, Bounty Hunter … some dignity.”

Din slapped the control to open the tiny room he used as sleeping quarters, leaving a bright red handprint on the metal wall, stopping him in his tracks. He looked down at Marathel in his arms, now visible under the garish bright light. His initial assumption that she was wrapped in red shrouds had been incorrect; as he shifted her, the pleats of the fabric around her shifted as well, revealing that the shrouds were the same blue of the veils she had been wearing earlier … and were now soaked with blood. Din couldn’t help it; he gasped at the sight of her and how much she resembled the floating body of his dream. He moved slightly to his left to allow Olba access into the little room, and one of Marathel’s braids slipped out and hung down towards the floor, leaving tiny drops of blood as it swung back and forth.

“This will suffice, Bounty Hunter. Hurry, lay her down here.” Din squeezed into the room and followed Olba’s instructions, laying Marathel’s limp form on his sleeping pad on the floor. Marathel made a low whine, the first sign she had made that she still lived. Din reached to remove the shroud from her face, but Olba stopped him. “Roll her over; she cannot be on her back.”

Din began to shift Marathel, and her cries became more intense, her features only slightly obscured by the veil on her face, stuck to her skin with her blood. He got her over on her stomach, and Olba gently turned Marathel’s face away from Din. “Scissors,” she said. Din looked up at Olba; Olba was holding her hand out to the other three veiled women who huddled in the doorway. One handed a pair of scissors to Olba, who used them to cut the shrouds off Marathel’s back down to her waist. As Olba peeled back the fabric – now resembling the wings of flesh from Din’s nightmare -- Din could see one reason for all the blood: she had been whipped mercilessly, and her skin, her magnificent flawless skin, was split laterally practically every half-inch from the base of her neck down to her lower back, and probably beyond, but Olba was not willing to expose her Marathel any more in front of the armored man. Blood slowly seeped from every split, unceasingly, without clotting.

Din let out a shuddering breath. “M’mwch ha’laa,” he whispered.

Olba looked up at Din, surprised by hearing her Oldtalk spoken by the Bounty Hunter. “You need to step out now; let us do our best by her.”

Din swallowed. “What can I do to help you?”

“Gather anything we can use as bandages, any water and toweling that we may have. We will do what we can as quickly as we can, so that you may leave here, and get her help. And put the child somewhere; this is something no child should ever see.”

Din nodded and opened the storage bins in his quarters that he knew had towels. He didn’t have many — he never had needed many — but he handed them over, as well as his one spare set of sheets. Then he left the room, in search of anything else that would be useful, including the bin that held a pitiful few bacta sheets, spray, and injections. He doubted that the women would even have heard of bacta, much less knowing how to use it. He searched out all spare clean fabric on the ship that would be appropriate for bandages, of which he had precious little — another thing that he was always meaning to do; he should have more in the way of first aid now that he had Grogu.

As if on cue, Grogu came up to him, holding out a soft blanket from his pram. Din knelt, and stroked Grogu’s ear with the back of his glove, not wanting to transfer blood to the boy. Din’s voice stuck in his throat for a moment before he could speak. “No, Grogu, I can’t let you do that … that’s your favorite blanket. Marathel wouldn’t want you to give up your favorite blanket. I need you to go back to the cockpit and wait there. The women need to help her, and I need to help them right now. Please, buddy, you’ve been so brave, can you be brave a little longer?” Grogu’s ears drooped, but he nodded, and turned to the ladder, hopping up in two bounds, dragging the blanket. Din shut the cockpit hatch for good measure.

He turned back to his sleeping quarters, and left the fabric he could find, along with what water he could spare, next to the open door. Through the doorway, he could see one bare foot and ankle, the pale skin somehow even more white than he remembered.

One of the women stepped out, without her veil. She was a pretty woman, wearing a gown of green, her blond hair streaked with white. Her light brown eyes were narrow with disdain as she looked up at the much taller man before her. “I have what you asked for,” she said. She reached into one of bags the women brought with them and handed the large beskar hammer to Din.

The hammer was forged in one large piece, and had a long handle, as long as Din’s forearm and hand. The heavy head was flat on one side and pointed on the other. The flat end was smeared with blood, and there were splashes of blood on the handle. Din supposed he should be thankful that the Captain’s flunky didn’t use the pointy end to cave his head in.

“You should know, Bounty Hunter, that hammer was not only used to bash your skull, but to destroy Marathel’s hands. The under-Captain smashed every one of her fingers, one at a time. Make sure to return your stolen hammer to your people.” The scorn in the woman’s voice was unmistakable, and she returned to Marathel’s side.

Din unclenched his hands from around the handle, which was now marked with his handprints in Marathel’s blood. He turned robotically and stepped back down the passageway to where he stored his weapons cache, placing the hammer within. Din looked at his gloves, saturated with blood, and he stripped them off, leaving them on the floor, but blood had soaked through, staining his bare skin. Over his shoulder, he could hear the women speaking.

“Did they … did they use the Dilimgau?”

Din lifted his head. What the shab is a Dilimgau?

“They did. Hold her leg higher ….”

Why do they have to hold her leg higher? What are they doing to her?

“Hold her still … I’m so sorry, my little Godynferth …” Din turned at Olba’s use of Marathel’s pet name for Grogu when he heard Marathel’s ragged scream fill the air, and the four women cried out as well, as if trying to take some of the burden of pain away from Marathel. He took several steps back at the sound; the scream was even worse than the shriek Marathel uttered when she lost Rodanthe. This scream was filled with the greatest pain anyone should have to endure and still live, and Din hoped, he wished, he begged whatever holy entity there ever was or ever could be that Marathel somehow survive whatever caused her to scream like that. He held his breath as the scream continued and finally faded into a low wail before ceasing. There was a clunk of metal hitting metal, and the women wept for a few moments before Olba spoke again. “Hurry now, she needs our help, not our tears.”

Olba’s words spurred Din back to action. Hurrying to the door — but not looking within — he said, “What else can I get you?”

A different woman stood up and filled the doorway. “Come no closer, Bounty Hunter,” she said, her voice filled with hate and spite directed at Din, and he was sure he understood why. The woman, wearing the same color blue as Marathel, removed her veil and untied her sash. She had hair of purest white and eyes of pale blue that were red with tears. “Have you no other fabric, Bounty Hunter? Blankets? Anything?”

“No. You have …” The woman looked at him with disgust and reproach, turned her back, and appeared to be cutting away whatever she was wearing under her gown. Din saw a flash of white as she tore the undergarment over her head and off. “Look in the bin just to your left. All my spare clothes are in there. Take whatever will work.” Din stepped back, leaning against the ladder, letting his head throb for a few moments before he remembered he needed to get the Crest running before he could lift off. He climbed the ladder and opened the cockpit door. Grogu was right behind it. “Gangway, Grogu,” he said listlessly. He gently pushed Grogu to the side so he could enter the cockpit, and automatically placed the child in the rear seat. “Stay there. Don’t leave the cockpit. Mind me, now.” Grogu dropped his head to his chest, curled his little arms around his knees, and remained silent. Din set the switches and levers, priming the engines for a quick takeoff. One of the propulsion units made a grinding noise, and Din punched the gauge, breaking the cover over the dial. He felt rage threatening to overtake him, and he gripped the edge of the control panel with his bare fingers until his knuckles turned white.

Olba’s voice came from below. “Bounty Hunter?”

Din jumped from his seat and leapt down from the cockpit, ignoring the ladder. His bad knee protested the rough landing, but he ignored it. All four women stood before him, without veils or sashes, and two of them had ripped the bottom foot or so from the hems of their gowns. All four had bloodstained hands and clothing, and all four looked as hopeless as he felt. The hatred in three of the women’s eyes was unmistakable in its vehemence, and he knew that it was directed at him, and that as far as the women were concerned, he was to blame for Marathel’s plight, even obliquely. “Marathel …?”

Olba took a breath. She had no hatred in her eyes, only that certain weariness that comes with continuous suffering and sadness. “She lives, for now. She has ia’chau leaves on her wounds, but they are not working very well. She … will not stop bleeding. Still, keep the leaves soaking in water and replace them as they fall apart. If nothing else, it will slow the blood flow.”

“I will. I know of her … condition.”

“You must know beautiful places, coming from somewhere else.” Olba was openly weeping now. “You promised me. Tell her I loved her as my own.”

“I will, Olba, and … thank you.”

“Go now. We must get back before we are discovered missing.”

Three of the four women turned to leave, save for the one in blue, who was glaring at Din in fury. She bared her teeth and snarled, “Her blood is on your hands. Our blood, too, for we are good as dead, bringing you the hammer you demanded.” The woman in blue spit with startling accuracy on Din’s right boot, throwing a bloodied rag-wrapped object at his feet, making a heavy thump against the metal floor. The women then left the ship, their bare feet sliding on the steep ramp. Din raised the ramp and shut the hull door. He took a deep breath and cast a quick look at whatever the woman in blue had thrown at him, then at the open door where Marathel lay motionless. Her bare feet, facing downward, were in view. Not now, you hu’tuun. Get flying. Din quickly ascended the ladder and hoped the women were clear, because he was taking off right the shab now.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

#the mandalorian angst #mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x female oc #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin series #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x oc #mando x female oc #mando angst

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lovelessdagger · 1 year ago

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Starlight - Epilogue: Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

WARNINGS: None.

Words: 2.7k

Summary: The end comes as natural as the beginning. In peacetime, indistinguishable from all tellings before.

A/N at end.

Masterlist | Starlight Masterlist | AO3 | Prev

The end comes as natural as the beginning. In peacetime, indistinguishable from all tellings before. The darkness has not been defeated, and the suns have yet to rise in the early morning. Stars persist, and the glimmering silver hues of the moon shine bright from a hole in the sky.

Lumina’s duffle is light, her possessions few. Her stomach churns.

It is too late, she is committed.

---

Hyperspace brings reflection.

In a journal, she scribes nonsense:

Without light

I inherit

my mothers

sin.

She hears a calling melody and ignores.

---

Lumina doesn’t know the planet they land on, coordinates came from mediation not a hologram. The environment reminds her of Corvus before the rebirth. Desolate, brown, dead. The air is cold, she tries not to shiver, tying a cloak over her shoulders.

Boba Fett exits the ship with her. He watches her with the care of a father under a lifetime of anxiety.

She feels a child again under his eye, itching to run back inside to the security he holds. She could find contentment, being with him. His faith in her is unwavering, should her sickness overtake he is all she would need by her side.

In every meaning she will miss him the most.

“K’olaror,” Boba says. He gives her his hand, holding her one in his two. “Ke'sushi.” He sighs. “Ad’ika. Are you certain this what you want?”

She answers, “I am. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He nods. “I have made many errors in my life,” he says. “I’ve spent my days wondering if I could have changed what’s happened to you. If I were there when—” he stops, squeezing her hand. “I swore to always watch over you. Not once did I ever think that duty would end. I force myself to forget many things, you’ve always reminded me why I shouldn’t. I wish I could have done more for you.”

“You’ve done plenty,” Lumina tells him. “More than you should. You took me on, a stranger, no pretenses. I imagine I’d be a lot worse without you. For all the bad Vader did… I don’t think we’d find each other another way.”

To this, Boba says nothing.

“It is already late,” he whispers. “You should begin your journey now. The dark is treacherous.”

Lumina responds, “It can be.” And as she does, the familiar white condor of Tatooine soars above the Slave I. She looks to her feet, seeing an oil slick snake. “Though not always.” Her eyes find Boba again, her face an echo. “I’ll be okay.”

“Strength is in your blood. Among all things you are a Fett. We are survivors. You may not be my daughter, but you will always be my little light. And I will miss you more than anything.”

Lumina thought herself past tears, she forgets her humanity until her vision is blurred within pools of their own doing. He holds her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head. She smells the warmth of leather, the tinge of metal in his beskar, the oak of his wash.

And she cries like a child.

At her calming some time later, he pulls away, holding her shoulders at arms length. “Are you ready?”

Lumina nods. “I am. Are you?”

He smiles. “No. But such is life.” From his pocket he places an item into her hand. A necklace of black cording and a handmade silver skull pendent. “An heirloom,” he says. “So that you may remember.”

Lumina inspects the jewelry, a reflection of her day on Nevarro. Of a witch and a burning. She bites the shock of a gasp, a stern gaze on her stern fist. This is real, she tells herself. Though there are no accessible memories within the object; Everything is real.

She asks aloud, “Remember what?”

Boba Fett answers: “Who you are.”

---

In the night, Lumina is guided through a forest. The white bird leads, the black snake acts as a compass. Not once is she lost. The path is filled by living grass, living trees, living flowers. She follows a line of torch bugs, taking time to admire the sky. There is comfort, even now with the most nerves in her life.

The road ends at a wide opening to a field. A large stone sits in the center, a smaller one at its side. Atop sits a cloaked figure in meditation, the bird flying to their shoulder. “I was beginning to think you’d never come.” Blue eyes open once Lumina is positioned in front, a clever stare given to the snake. “It’s good our friends work together now.”

“Ahsoka,” Lumina whispers. She bends at her feet, her head bowed. “I wish to apologize. I beg your forgiveness for all I have done.”

“Do not speak,” the old Padawan says. “Sit with me.”

With hesitance, Lumina takes her place at Ahsoka’s side. Her legs cross, a hand on each knee. Ahsoka settles into her meditation once more, closing her eyes.

Lumina attempts to follow suit; she is no stranger to the act, however difficulty finds place in rhythm. Her breathing is unsteady, she is disconnected, shaking. Sensory of the new world overwhelms her already peaked nerves.

Pressure comes at her lower back, a flat palm adjusting her posture. Through guidance of the Force, she steadies.

In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold…

All is well.

Ahsoka comes to her front, lifting Lumina’s chin. They lock eyes. “I will stay true to my promise, but if this is to work,” she says, “we must behave differently than we know. You must be open to the challenge. Do you understand?”

Quiet, Lumina responds. “I do. I am.”

Ahsoka nods. “Very well.” Lifting the hood of her cloak, she turns on a heel. “Come now. There is much work ahead.”

Together, they journey on.

---

There are still days where Lumina wakes with a start. Tonight is one of those instances. Her new home, Ahsoka’s T-6 shuttle, flies gentle in subspace when she jumps. Her hand presses against her chest, the other flinging covers off her sweat. She leans over the cot, steady birthing breaths to the ground.

Her feet touch base first, pushing herself to stand when the dizziness subsides. She pads to the refresher, splashing water on her face. A hand wave powers the lights. She cringes undoing tight braided hair. The resulting mane isn’t much better, though scalp strain won’t be missed.

She looks younger than she feels. A million lives over the course of an assumed twenty-eight years, how remarkable. Her eyes flicker to the embedded standardized clock in the mirror. Three in the morning. She groans. Perfect.

Lumina elects to finish getting ready, swapping her sleepwear for typical gear. Dark robes reminiscent of a Jedis—something old of Ahsoka’s.

“You’re up late.” Ahsoka, leaning against the doorway.

“Early,” Lumina corrects. “Bad dream.”

“Again? You said those stopped.”

“They did.” She sighs, wrapping arm bands up to her elbows. “Then they came back.”

“When?”

Lumina shrugs. “One… two months ago?”

“Two months?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Too late.” She walks in, directly behind Lumina. Ahsoka pulls her hair back behind her shoulders. She grabs Lumina’s comb, raking it through. Not having any of her own, Ahsoka’s grown quite enamored. “I wish you wouldn’t keep things from me,” she says.

“Right,” Lumina mumbles. “Because you keep nothing from me.”

The refresher grows quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Lumina says. She rubs the pendant of her necklace through her shirt.

“Echo,” Ahsoka whispers. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know.”

“You cannot be tethered to the past. You must be mindful of the future.”

“But not at the expense of the present,” Lumina says. “I know.” She chews her lip, rolling her shoulders. “I just… don’t you think if I knew, it could help me?”

“No. Actually I think it would do the opposite. If you knew… you’d devote yourself to her. Not yourself. You’d abandon your training to look for a fantasy. When you’re ready to know, I’ll tell you everything.”

“How will I know that I’m ready?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “You’ll know.”

The ship lurches from under their feet, Lumina grips the rim of the sink.

“Finish getting ready,” Ahsoka says. “We’re early, but since you’re up we’ll get a head start.”

“On what?”

Ahsoka smiles. “The next step of your training.”

---

“This is Tython,” Ahsoka says. They climb a rocky hill in the dead of night and beginning of the planets spring. “Long ago the Jedi held Temples on many planets, not just Coruscant.”

“I remember,” Lumina says. “Days of old believed in genuine aid. Easier done when the aid can actually get to those in need in a timely manner. And it kept separation from politics.”

“The Temple here became irrelevant some time in the High Republic with the emergence of hyperlanes. To my knowledge, what remains of the Jedi have gone largely untouched by sentients since.” Lumina is spared a look. “The Force is meant to be strong here, as pure as it can be while in the known galaxy. This is just fable of course, but I find there is truth in legend.”

Lumina snorts. “Clever.”

“I can be funny.”

“Hardly.” Her eyes roll, fond. “So, why are we here?”

“To test you,” Ahsoka says. “And myself I suppose. The effectiveness of my training, the progression of you, all in-between. You’ve been my student—my partner for half a cycle. Six months to the day. You’re a different person from when we met. Mostly.”

“Not that different,” Lumina mumbles. “Better at pretending, I think.” She taps the saber on her hip, swinging with every step. “I’m still red. Always will be. Leave a crack for the dark it’ll flood your soul.”

Ahsoka’s brow quirks. “That’s a Jedi proverb.”

“Mandalorian, originally,” Lumina corrects. “Ba'slanar palon werede ven kyr'amu gar runi.”

They come to the top of the hill and ruins of a stonehenge, a flat boulder in the middle. Lumina overlooks the horizon, circling the perimeter. No nearby village, no visible forest, rivers, lakes, or mountains. The T-6 shrinks to porg size with the distance, a small blinking light from Huyang.

“Take a seat,” Ahsoka says, waving to the stone. “Present your saber.” Flat in Lumina’s hands, she speaks again. “When I first got that lightsaber, my crystal was green. While I was in exile, it stayed in the care of our Master. He turned it blue. Gifted to you, the crystal is red.”

“I bled the kyber myself” Lumina admits. “Not him. After Yavin… Boba and I went to Tatooine, to learn about that boy who destroyed the Death Star. I knew from the first thing I touched who he was. What he was. I knew what it meant for me. Skywalker took everything from me. He had a family—one who loved him, he didn’t need mine. I thought turning my crystal red would make him care about me again. In the end it just enforced that I could be on my own. So I was. After I did it I felt horrible. Then I felt proud, then I felt horrible for feeling proud, soon enough I stopped caring.“

Ahsoka takes the saber through the Force, pulling apart each section. “How do you feel now?”

Lumina shrugs, the kyber floating back into her palm. “This is part of who I am.” Ahsoka places the hilt on the floor before Lumina. “I think of it like my scars. They’re all a reminder of where I come from. Used to be what I fought for. Now they’re what I fight against.”

She could swear Ahsoka smirks, though the expression is fleeting. “There’s hope for you yet.” She circles Lumina, placing pressure on her lower back. “Your assignment is meditation,” she says.

Lumina looks over. “For how long?”

Ahsoka lifts the hood of her cloak, stepping away. “The Force will guide you, have faith. Return to the ship when you’re ready. I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine. They could use our help.”

“In?”

Ahsoka answers, “Meditate. Keep your mind clear. Trust in the Force,” and disappears below the hillside.

---

Meditation is strictly a Jedi practice, one Lumina never thought herself particularly good at. Her breathing found habit in being too harsh, her posture too slumped or too rigid, her mind too full.

The worries allude her now. They’re so trivial. For the first time in her life, Lumina allows her own existence. She connects to the planets core and touches every living creature. She is weightless.

Six months under Ahsoka’s tutelage brought a bounty full of knowledge, but also perspective.

The good days have been hard, and the bad days impossible. In the beginning, Lumina convinced herself of an imaginary ploy. She kept distance, sleeping with a knife at her side. She expected a break in persona. A punishment for failure, disobedience—of which there were plenty. A punishment which Ahsoka not once delivered on.

Their arguments become heated, Lumina knows how to get ugly with insults. She knows Ahsoka. Knows her memories, her struggles, her fears. Lumina knows cruelness and is unafraid of creating casualties.

But Ahsoka is patient. She is kind. She knows when it’s best to allow space and when to goad the truth. She never forces Lumina to stay, if her desire is to leave she may. By day, Lumina will pack. By night, she rests curled at Ahsoka’s side, mumbling apologies like a told off toddler.

Her maturity was too great as a child, now she lacks too greatly. At times she thinks herself an untrained hound, full of malicious intent when pinned.

She is learning—slowly—to be different. To be better. Perhaps she’ll be a student for the remainder of her life, however long or short that may be.

She is ready.

For trust, although cautioned. Peace, although fleeting. Security, even if conceptual. Love… she doesn’t know if she’s ready for love; the great vulnerability of the soul.

She may not be meant for it.

Loving comes in hand with loss, and she has had her fill of grief. Though that could be the point.

Knowing the Child, raising life—Ahsoka says the lessons from him are greater than any she could teach. Her heart does strain for Grogu more than she can bear. His smell, his warmth, his heart. Gods she prays the Force is with him. For the sake of his father if not her.

Din. Maker… there aren’t enough words in the galaxy to begin. Moons have never been the same, she’d never see the sun again if it meant the consistency of their comfort. She is haunted still, unsure if she holds right to such a feeling. A murderer murdered by their greatest muse.

What a tragedy for the act to be his right, welcomed into her life with each wound.

She cannot complain.

Even still, she would allow the violence. She is deserving.

Their story is the same as the rest, as she predicted, as she warned. He knew. He’s too smart not to have known. In one form or another they were both willing to their lot in life.

A misery colored with company.

There have been worse punishments.

She would go again, and in a way she is fulfilled.

She hopes he is as well.

In some way, she knows it to be true.

She is content.

Through the winds of the Force, Lumina Fett hears an echoing melody, far in the distance. Her eyes open. The sun has yet to rise, forgoing any indication of a significant passage of time. She looks to the sky, the stars being especially bright tonight.

All is well.

If the story has happened before it will happen again.

One will try.

The other will too.

Even if nothing will change, they will try because it might. They will try again and again, willing to the devastation for even a chance.

Poetry of ages past declares the law.

Lumina takes her lightsaber hilt from the dirt, placing her kyber firmly inside. She takes a breath.

A story told time and time again.

It will begin with peace, as it always does.

It will be the early morning.

Darkness continues, as it has for many years.

Though its time is ending.

Soon, dawn will emerge.

It is the will of the Force.

In an instant, from the black hilt of a lightsaber, a beam of pure white plasma illuminates the night sky.

Just like starlight.

----

A/N: Moonlight, the second installment, will release 2024.

Thank you.

-----

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#starlight #din djarin x original character #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x female oc #mando x oc #mando x ofc #the mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin Fanfic

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