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dinpascal · 4 years ago

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No Good Deed — Din Djarin

No Good Deed — Chapter One

➥ There’s an unconscious Mandalorian outside your door, along with some tiny, green thing clutching at his cloak. There has to be some sort of manual that tells you what to do in this situation... Right?

There were many things to hate about Nevarro. The miles and miles of just-barely crusted over magma, the Rebels that tended to brush through every now and again, acting all high and mighty and as if they were too good to set foot on such a planet. However, without a single doubt, the thing you hated the most was the damn Guild.

You had never been the type of person to judge another for their method of survival. You had done many... unsatisfactory things in your lifetime, just to see another day. A few of those still kept you awake at night, debating whether you were deserving of what you had, no matter how miniscule. The Guild, however, was an entirely different thing.

Perhaps it was the mere fact that at least seventy percent of the people you served were hunters from the Guild. And if not already in the Guild, aiming for opportunity to be. They were a cocksure group, always carrying themselves with an aura of arrogance and as if they were allowing you the privilege of surviving. As if your little, insignificant life was balanced between their fingers, because they were all so skilled in the art of bounty hunting.

A lot of mudscuffers, in your opinion.

You wiped your palms down your apron, which did little about the stickiness that was present from hours of drink-making. The hairs were no-doubt spilling from your braid, hardly remembering to breathe in-between each order and the chaos that surrounded you. Creatures of all kind called out to you in many different languages, some you understood and others you required your “partner” to translate. The droid was good for nothing apart from that, perhaps apart from being perpetually in your way. It reached the point where you no longer felt guilty for bumping it out of your way.

Today, evidently, was Greef Karga’s awaited return from some mission, leading to the assembly of many (impatiently) awaiting their next bounty. In other words, the bar was way past its capacity limit. Many patrons were shoulder-to-shoulder, filling the building with endless, buzzing chatter that made the ache that much more present at your brow.

“C’mon, I’ve been trying for months. Why don’t you let me take you out? Just one night?” You eyed your suitor as you collected empty glasses and bottles, eyeing him with a thoroughly practiced smile that gave him the impression you enjoyed his company. It was something you were forced to learn early in this occupation, if you were even remotely interested in tips. Customers, males especially, enjoyed feeling wanted. As if they had any semblance of a chance with the “pretty thing” that served them drinks behind the counter.

“Cardon, you know I don’t date bounty hunters.” You replied, taking a moment to take another order and busying yourself with making it. Luckily, very few (if any) frequenters drank anything complicated, often preferring spotchka and even simple shots of hooch.

The dark-skinned hunter smiled, moving to brush his hair back with a gloved hand. “And why not? Don’t think you could handle one?” If you had to decide, Cardon wasn’t the worst of the bunch you could choose from. He had ebony hair that touched the top his shoulders, the top half often twisted into a bun. He was tall enough, but quite lanky compared to many of the other hunters that frequented the cantina.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. If you had to guess, the majority of the hunters you served only had one head. Instead of commenting further, you motioned towards his glass. “Want another, Cardon?” He waved a hand in silent agreement, seemingly coming to terms that he was, yet again, striking out with you.

“I think I’m your relief for the night.” You turned, positively beaming at the sight of olive skin and black eyes. “Alejad... My savior.” He grinned wickedly and threw a rag over his shoulder, lightly tsking at the mess you’d made of the bar.

“So very messy. Have I not taught you a thing?”

With a roll of your eyes and slight scoff, you began fingering the knot of your apron. “We’ll see how lucky you end up tonight. Karga isn’t even supposed to be showing up until second sundown.” You brushed your hand over his shaved head as you passed behind him, an act of affection you’d picked up in the time you’d worked together. Alejad had been the one to train you, considering no one else apart from the two of you seemed to want to work in this hunk of junk somehow considered a “proper establishment”.

Stepping out of the back entrance with your day’s tips firmly shoved in your pocket, the silence of the alley was almost dizzying compared to what you’d dealt with for the last seven hours. Despite the distant sounds of the hustle and bustle of the market, it was much more preferable. Almost anything was preferable to being cat-called and yelled at all day.

With a sigh and a brush of the back of your hand across your forehead, you finally made your way home. It wasn’t a far walk, just a few twists and turns that made it a comfortable enough walk to and from work. Your home was nothing exciting, nothing more than what you absolutely needed — the absolute bare essentials. It had once served as some kind of building for the Imps that were once stationed on Nevarro and eventually separated into two, unconnected homes once the Imps were chased (or killed) out. A little family had moved into the home above yours, made up of a young Twi’lek couple and a little, rose-colored girl you doubted had seen more than five cycles. You often found her crouched outside your home, digging through the dirt to find new additions to her rock collection. On the rarest of days, when you’d either be leaving or just returning from the bar, she’d already be outside as the first sun was rising and would offer you a toothless smile that made your heart warm.

However, given the first sun was only just beginning to set, there was no young girl parading about the property. Hopefully, she was busy eating a plentiful dinner with her parents and had a nice, warm bed to look forward to tonight.

The door creaked as you stepped inside, double-checking that you’d locked it behind you before making your way (all three steps of it) to the kitchen. With a quick look in the conservator, it seemed for the fourth night in a row now, you were having broth for dinner. With a sigh, you discarded your dirty apron aside and flipped the oven on to reheat your soup. It seemed you were in dire need for a trip to the market.

There were a dozen and a half things you needed to do around the house, including a deep clean of your floors, as well as stripping your bed and washing the linens that you’d ignored for much too long. Taking the trash out was sufficient enough for the night, right? Right.

The evening air was cool against your skin, the first emergence of the first sunfall of the night beginning to appear. In a matter of hours, the cool air would soon become too cold to bear without some kind of protection. It was an interesting contradiction. While the ground beneath your feet was warm, almost hot to the touch because of the molten lava beneath it, the air was often cool and bleak the moment the suns began to sleep for the night.

A soft noise behind you drew you from your thoughts, nothing more than a gentle, sad coo. You immediately turned, worrying a young babe had dodged their parents and was now exploring with no supervision. While Nevarro was now exponentially safer now that the Imps were gone, it still was no place for a child to be roaming at first sunfall.

The last thing, actually very last thing you had expected was the sight before you. A Mandalorian slumped against your home with a little, green creature clutching at the frayed ends of his cloak. It regarded you for no longer than a moment, big eyes quickly returning to the hunter and cooing softly once more, as if urging him to get up. It tugged at the cloak again, its free hand bumping against his shoulder as if the tiny jostle would wake him.

You stood there a moment, almost afraid to take another step towards the pair. Though you’d never met a Mandalorian yourself, their reputation was enough to make your legs shake a bit under your weight. None too long ago, one had caused the entire town to burst into gunfire and killed dozens of other hunters. Undoubtedly, he (was it a he?) knew more than a dozen ways to kill you. And the creature? While it looked harmless enough now, how could you know if it would begin spewing venom at you the moment you took two steps towards it? If you’d learned anything growing up, it was to not trust a species you didn’t know. And you’d learned that lesson the hard way.

As if aware of your thoughts, its eyes turned towards you once more and made another sad sound. It pulled at something deep inside you, something dormant and untraveled. Whatever it was, it urged you to move your damn feet and make the poor thing stop giving you those big, sorrowful eyes.

“Okay...” Hesitantly, as if standing eye-to-eye with a Nexu, you braved a step forward. When it didn’t abruptly move or hiss, you took another. “Hey... little guy,” you murmured, eyes flickering from gleaming silver to the little one’s, “What happened?”

It whined pitifully, turning towards the Mandalorian with a three-fingered hand as if motioning towards him and saying, ‘help him, will ya?’.

If it were any other situation, you may have found the little creature amusing. It didn’t seem to be able to speak, but its body language and big, bug eyes were expressive enough.

Once you were close enough to touch the Mandalorian, you slowly kneeled and made sure it stayed in your peripheral. You doubted it would suddenly sprout wings at this point, but you could never be too sure. Maybe it enjoyed playing with its food.

“I’m gonna... Take him inside, okay?” Much to your surprise, it nodded and backed away a couple paces to give you space. Okay, so the green thing was intelligent. Good to know.

With a steadying breath, you maneuvered your way around the Mandalorian so you could (attempt to) lift him. You imagined his armor couldn’t be light by any means, meaning you were going to have to carry a man already twice your weight, along with that much more in armor. “Knew I should have bought those weights...”

Sliding your arms under his armpits and securing your hold through intertwining your hands over his chest, you figured this was the best chance you had. There was no way you were getting him up over your shoulder and you figured dragging him by his feet wasn’t the best method, in case of a possible head injury.

The breath immediately whooshed out of your lungs as you straightened, using gravity to your advantage and using the force to drag him backwards, instead of back down like it wanted. The little rag-covered bean waddled after you, apparently not willing to allow the Mandalorian out of his sight.

The helmet lulled forward as you mostly-dragged him into your home, most certainly and unquestionably out cold.

In the middle of your kitchen, you paused. Where the hell were you going to put him? The kitchen certainly wasn’t spacious enough for him. It was hardly enough room for you to comfortably move about.

That left your bedroom.

“Just a little farther, alright?” You huffed, suddenly very keenly aware of the heaviness in your shoulders and triceps. The creature stumbling after the Mandalorian’s feet cooed in response, seemingly more content now than before.

It took you much longer than you would’ve liked, but eventually, you somehow managed to get the damn guy on your bed. His feet hung over the bed and no doubt was coating your sheets in dirt and blood and who knew what else. At least they already needed washed.

After taking a moment (minutes, really) to catch your breath and watching the bean climb its way up your bed and back to the Mandalorian’s side, you once more found yourself at a loss. What the hell do you do now?

Checking him for injuries was probably the best next course of action. You didn’t want the guy to die right here, on your bed, right?

With your hands on your hips and a sweat breaking out over your brow, you looked in the what you now mentally referred to as the bean’s direction. “These guys have something against taking off their helmet, right?” Your response was a sound you couldn’t quite differentiate between amusement and agreement. Nevertheless, you nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

After another few minutes of heavy consideration, you decided starting from the bottom-up was probably your best bet. If you were lucky, he was just incredibly sleep-deprived and absolutely nothing else was wrong with him.

The little bean at his shoulder watched as you methodically undressed the Mandalorian, beginning with the armor as his shoulders and then moving to his chest plate. You made a small stack of it just beside your bed, being careful to not add any dinks or scratches that weren’t already on them.

With shaky fingers, you began lifting his shirt to inspect any possible torso wounds. You were met with caramel skin etched in paler, puffier skin in various places where he’d been wounded and scarred over. A trail of dark, nearly black hair drew your gaze below his belly button and disappearing into his trousers.

You swallowed. This was not the time.

“Stomach looks good.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You pushed the fabric up further until it was under his chin, fingers delicately brushing across an angry, red line just below his left clavicle. It didn’t look serious and most likely just a result from his armor pressing into his skin, but it gave you an excuse to feel his skin beneath your fingertips. His chest was faintly dotted with hair, nipples pebbling at the sudden exposure to the air. “Chest looks good too.”

That left on more thing to check, the one thing you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do.

You sank back onto your haunches for a moment, teeth anxiously worrying at the inside of your cheek as you considered your options. You didn’t have to do anything — you’d already given him and his... pet? Child? Friend? Somewhere to rest and checked him for any serious, deadly injuries. On the other hand, however, what if he did have a head injury? Without aid, a head injury could easily and quickly result in death. And you certainly didn’t want a dead Mandalorian on your hands.

“Second option it is.” You murmured, brushing your palms down your trousers and taking a soothing breath. “But,” you began, pointing a finger in the air as you looked towards the bean. “I am not being that person.” You disappeared out of the room for a moment, quickly returning with a clean rag and making a show so the bean could see it. “See?”

The bean, seemingly content, made an inquisitive sound. With one hand, you curled your fingers under the helmet’s edge and searched for the locking mechanism. Once you felt the tiny button, you nudged it and released a breath as it unlocked. “Okay, okay... Just gotta do this quick...”

With one, shaky hand, you gently tugged the helmet free from his head, immediately snapping your eyes shut the second you no longer felt the weight of his head. Discarding the heavy thing aside, you took the rag and, as efficiently as possible with your eyes firmly shut, placed it over his face. Though it wouldn’t make breathing especially easier, it at least would preserve some of his modesty.

Once finished, you took a deep breath and regarded your work. You turned towards the bean with a triumphant smile. “Not bad, yeah?”

The bean regarded the rag with something akin to distaste but you couldn’t be sure. It was difficult to distinguish every emotion with its tiny face. The majority of your basis was just on its eyes.

You maneuvered your way around the pile of metal on your floor, as well as your own things to the head of the bed, eyes settling on the head of brown, presumably thick hair that stuck out from under the rag.

When was the last time someone so much as had seen a strand of his hair? Had anyone ever? Yet there you were, looking at not only it, but nearly everything else aside from his face.

You eyed the creature currently tracing a three-fingered claw up the Mandalorian’s arm. It seemed... Conflicted. As if the whole world rested on its little shoulders, now that the Mandalorian was no longer protecting it. Its tiny features were pinched in worry, shoulders slumped forward and ears drooping at the corners.

You wanted to console the little thing, except you still weren’t completely sure it wouldn’t nip at you if you got too close.

Turning your attention back to the man (because at the current moment, he seemed to pose less danger), you cautiously slid your fingers around the back of his head. There was nothing but thick, course hair, even as you rounded the back of his head. At the very least, there were no external injuries.

Until you looked down.

And found that his foot was twisted at an angle that it most definitely wasn’t supposed to.

“Well, kriff.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You regarded the said appendage for awhile, unsure quite what to do now. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do, but moreso the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to go snapping a bounty hunter’s leg back into place. It was usually something a person informed another of before doing.

With a sigh, you turned your attention back to the little bean. Though you had little to no clue if it was capable of understanding you (though it had somewhat shown it could), it made you the teensiest amount less nervous to talk to it. “Maybe it’s better to do it while he’s out. What do you think?” The bean babbled something incoherently. You nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian hardly flinched when you snapped his ankle back into place. Most surprisingly, he hadn’t woken up either. Hours later and he was still completely dead to the world. Numerous times you had to check to make sure he was still breathing.

After about hour five, the bean decided to venture from his side. It appeared at your feet just as you were elbow-deep in washing, first inquisitively watching you scrub at your clothes, as if you were doing something it had never quite seen.

“Hey, little... Guy,” you finished lamely, pausing to eye the green creature as its head tilted to the side and those big eyes blinked. It made a soft sound, as if expecting you to easily understand. When you didn’t immediately react, it’s features pinched and it threw its arms up as if it were exclaiming something as it spewed into further coos and babbles.

You stared blankly.

What would a small, green creature want? A new, preferably clean rag for clothes? For you to throw something so you could chase it? Something to sink its little teeth into?

You faulted for a moment in your thinking. “Are you hungry?” It nodded immediately, fingers touching its belly and watching you with a look that clearly said ‘that’s what I was saying!’. “Okay, well, what do you eat?” It blinked as you stood from your washing, little feet tapping against the tiled floor as it followed you. “All I really have is broth, so it’s either broth or nothing.” It didn’t make any sound of disagreement or disappointment, so you took it as enough agreement and poured the still-warm broth (which you’d forgotten about until the stove beeped indignantly at you, still preoccupied with snapping a literal bone back into place) into a bowl. When it took the bowl you offered it, it blinked at it for a moment. Then it blinked up at you.

“What? It’s all I got, little guy so I—,” It cut you off as it set the bowl down, before lifting its arms up that very plainly was uppity arms that babies were known for doing. It left you to stand there for a moment, mouth falling open and eyebrows shooting upwards. “You’re a kid?”

It babbled impatiently, big eyes looking at its meal before back up at you again. “Okay, um...” Slowly, still not completely sure you trusted it, you picked it up and then its bowl of broth. “You need... Help?” It cooed in what you assumed was agreement.

That was how you found yourself sitting at your table, some kind of child creature sitting in your lap as you spoon-fed it broth and occasionally pausing to let it babble something or burp.

It was quite the character, you were learning.

And quite the conversationalist. If only you could understand a word it was saying.

Then you felt the atmosphere change... Shift. Where calm once sat, something you could only describe as charged replaced it. The child seemed to notice as well. Its head turned toward your bedroom, softly squealing and clapping its hands together. The Mandalorian was awake. There was a moment of silence as the dread pooled in your belly and a chill ran down your spine.

This was the moment you hadn’t really considered. Many people, especially a Mandalorian, wouldn’t like waking up in a strange place with their armor stripped and their damned helmet off.

Dank farrick, you just had to go and get yourself involved.

The seconds stretched as complete silence filled your home. Not even the child made another sound, though it was evident its feelings were a stark contrast from your own. Of course, it hadn’t dragged a Mandalorian into its home and practically stripped him bare.

There was a flash of silver at the doorway of your bedroom.

No good deed goes unpunished indeed.

#ok you do NOT understand how HARD it was not to refer to grogu as 'he' throughout this #i had to fix SO many mistakes #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #mandalorian #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #grogu #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedor pascal x you

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mudhornchronicles · 4 years ago

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uh oh | din djarin

pairing: din djarin x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, getting lost, feeling of loneliness, threats, mentions of death

request by: anon

a/n: a market was requested, but I have read many writers describe markets like on Tatooine and I didn’t want to copy anyone even if I’ve never read their work… so one big city coming right up. fingers crossed you like it.

masterlist

Today was not the best day of being in three-year long relationship with the Mandalorian. You had landed on the planet Coruscant, a planet that was one big city. You were running out of fuel and were on your way to Tatooine to have Peli and the small droids work on the Crest’s engine. Din said something about feeling the ship sputtering here and there and wanted Peli to look at it.

You had been on Coruscant before, Maker you had lived there. You knew about the black-market trafficking and you knew about the countless gangsters causing a fuss over the smallest things. Din refused to stop there, saying he could make the Crest get to Corellia… anywhere but Coruscant.

Din hated Coruscant more than anything. The streets were filled to the brim with a bantha-sized variety of people and the air was loaded with their small ships causing nothing but chaotic traffic. He was sent there with two other Mandalorians, Paz and their sponsor, when he was still in the Mandalorian training corps. There, they tracked down a Twi’lek gangster who was terrorizing a Mandalorian family living on the planet. He also nearly died trying to protect his sponsor from a blaster shot, in turn speeding up his swearing of the creed.

“Why can’t you just trust that I’ll be okay? You know I’ve lived on this kriffin’ planet! I know my way ar-“

“Enough!”

You are taken aback of his tone. You have gotten into arguments with your husband before, sure, but he has never raised his voice at you. He has never spoken to you the way he speaks to his bounty. Din always treated you and your adopted son with respect, but today, he decided to yell.

“You are not going and that’s final. Do you understand?” He looks at you as he swings his pulse rifle over his shoulder, helmet in hand. “You are to stay in this ship until I return and if you know better, you’ll be here.” You were not going to let that subtle threat get passed you.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? If I know better?” You say. You strut over to him and look into his chocolate eyes. “Listen here Mando, If I want to leave this trash can of a ship, I will. I don’t know what has gotten into you today, but you aren’t one to tell me what to do… especially to threaten me.”

You grab your brown shawl and aggressively wrap it around your torso, not giving Din a glance in his direction. You open the door of the cot and smile at your awakening green foundling. You grab a piece of your shawl and open it, revealing a pouch. “Come, ad’ika. You and I are going on an adventure while your buir gets the ship ready to go see Auntie Peli, ok?” Grogu smiles and lifts his hands in a “grabby” motion. You delicately place your child in your arms, head snuggled in your shoulder and wrap him in the shawl. You close the cot and turn to walk to the ramp of the ship, meeting Din as he places his rifle’s extra charges in his boot. You motion to his vambrace and give him a pointed look. “Put on your helmet and open the door. Grogu and I want to take a walk. I want him to see the market line. There has to be one around here.”

Din looks at you and his child and shakes his head. “Grogu isn’t going with you. If you want to be irresponsible and leave, then he stays here.” You scoff and quickly press the ramp button on his vambrace. He says your name as the ramp slowly opens and when you do not respond, he grabs your arm. “Grogu will be safe here. Leave him here.”

“Grogu needs fresh air; not this recycled crap. Now get this ship filled and ready to go.”

Din slips his helmet on his head and his hand into yours, interlocking his gloved fingers with yours. You let out a deep sigh you did not know you caged in and look up at your husband.

“Can you at least allow me to walk you?” He says, eyes filled with sadness at arguing with you. “I just want to make sure you both get there.”

You give his hand a squeeze and a nod. You hated seeing his eyes like this; it hurt you. You were connected by vows, but you both always felt as if the stars aligned the day you met. You never thought you would be traveling the galaxy with a Mandalorian, let alone start a family with one.

Din leans down and connects your forehead with his and you immediately feel serenity. He gives you a quick squeeze of the hand and lets go.

You talked a big game to your husband, but did you really know where you were going? No.

You walked around the part of the city you were the least familiar with, about 25% familiar. You clutched your son to your chest and stopped to analyze your surroundings and realizing you had no idea where you were, but knowing you had to get out. The streets were infiltrated with dark business and quick pacing people trying to get out of there as soon as they can. You walk forward and your ears ringing at the blaring sounds of the honking above you.

“You must be new ‘round here. Never seen someone with a baby walkin’ ‘round like they’re on Naboo.”

You turn around, trying your hardest not to show the absolute fear on your face upon recognizing the Zabrak. One of your hands remain clutching Grogu while the other gets placed on your hip, right above the vibroblade Din made you carry everywhere.

“What’s it to you, Zabrak? I can’t walk around?”

The Zabrak chuckles. “Walkin’ with a kid, huh?” he says as he goes to put a hand on your shawl, right above Grogu.

“Get near my kid and I promise you I’ll let you bleed out.” The Zabrak looks down at his stomach and sees your vibroblade pointed right at the center and ready to puncture. He backs up and puts his hands up.

“I painted you wrong, but let me tell you somethin’… I’m the wrong guy to threaten.” He walks away and once he is out of your line of sight, you quickly walk into an empty alley way. You lean on the wall and slip down, pulling out the commlink that was in your pocket. You let out a shaky breath as you press the button, waiting for it to turn green indicating it has connected.

“D-Din…” you start. You take a deep breath to hide your shaky voice but to no avail. “Din, where are you? I-I need you. Hurry up.”

A deep chuckle comes through the commlink that would normally make you want to drop your pants, but this wasn’t the time. “Now you need me? I thought you knew where you going? I told y-“

“Din!” you interrupt. “Now is not the time for I told you so’s! They’re going to get me and you better get your beskar ass here now.”

“Hey stop. Who’s going to get you?”

“Din hurry up! I’m nea-“ you stop. You hear the Zabrak yell find her and that kid and bring them alive. “Din please hurry.”

“Where. Are. You.”

You hear footsteps coming towards your direction and you run to hide behind a metal container. Grogu feels the commotion and coos out in confusion. You give him a small smile and ask him to hush. You can hear Din’s concerned voice come through asking things like, “Tell me where you are.” “Give me a description” and him calling your name over and over.

You quickly press the button and say, “train track above, glass shop, blue door, in alleyway behind metal can.” and smash the commlink so the Zabrak’s men don’t hear Din’s voice. You look down at Grogu as he looks at you with confusion. “It’s going to be okay, ad’ika. Buir will find you, I promise.”

You were afraid. You knew that Zabrak a long time ago. He terrorized your “neighborhood” and forced your family into poverty and lose some of them, which led you to hate Coruscant. You were surprised he didn’t recognize you, but you were also a kid back then; you grew up, but he clearly didn’t. You felt alone all those years and ended up hitching a ride on some lady’s ship. She realized it after she landed on Dantooine. She was mad and ended up leaving you on Dantooine, but some Rebel took you to Tatooine – the planet you met your husband on.

You knew the consequences you were about to endure, so you wrapped Grogu in your shawl and placed a chaste kiss on his wrinkled forehead. You tucked him behind the container and smiled at him. He coo’s at you and expands a claw towards you. You shake you head and tell him to stay and reminded him about his father coming. You walk out of the alley and run towards a shop, away from the alley so they would not look in there. You whistled and waved your arms around. “Hey spike head! Ya lookin’ for me? Come get me!” The men start running after you and you run. You heart starts beating hard as you try to direct them all away from the alley. You didn’t know if it would work but it did. You kept running into different streets, mazing them around like sheep, but when you looked back, you saw them with wide eyes and stopping in their tracks. You slow your pace and turn around, being met with the visor you hated seeing inside your flying home.

Din felt his blood run cold at the sound of your distressed voice. He knew if you were alone, you would have told him to rendezvous at the ship, but you had your son. Din also knew that you would do anything to protect Grogu, even if that meant your life. He did not want to believe the cry for help, hoping you were wanting to play a prank on him, but when he heard you whisper your description of your location, he had to act fast.

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He didn’t want to admit he was scared, but he was terrified. If you knew Coruscant, why would you be scared? There had to be something big after you because he has never heard you scared for your life. Din refused to believe that something could happen to you. As much as the two of you disagreed and argued at times, he couldn’t live without you. He couldn’t live without the one person who looked at him as a person and not a machine.

Sure, you had been scared the first time you’d met, but soon warmed up to the man when you realized he wasn’t looking for you. You had always stood your ground and he loved that about you. You always tested Din’s patience, but it always kept the guy on his toes. No matter how much the two of you could be mad at each other, it never lasted more than a couple hours. Din would go insane if it did.

Din cursed at himself. He knew he wouldn’t be able to use his jetpack because of the low riding aircrafts, so what did he do? He left it in the ship. He pondered on your clues.

He recalls a train track close to the Crest, not a far walk at all and definitely a shorter sprint. He spots the train track and as soon as he catches a breath, he asks a local about a glass shop near a blue door. They point him towards the street and breathes out a thank you as he runs toward you. He sees the blue door in the distance, but he also spots men walking around as if looking for something, or someone. He slithers through the channel of alleyways and locates an alley that over looks the train track, the glass shop and is directly infront of the blue door. He runs towards the metal container as you said was there and hears the familiar cooing emitting behind it. He moves the container and sees Grogu swaddled in your brown shawl with tears in his big eyes. Din kneels and picks his upset son.

“You’re okay, ad’ika. We’re going to find buir and get them out of trouble, okay?”

Grogu coos and lets out an “uhoh.” Din smiling and agreeing, putting Grogu in his pack.

Din hears the commotion of running and spots a group of men running after a figure, your figure. He knew your pattern. You’d run until you lost them and would swivel between streets to get them confused.

Din jogged to a street four streets over and waited at the end of it, smiling as he saw you, safe and alive, and your “posse” run straight into it. He had Grogu in his pack at his waist and smirked as Grogu hid inside. Din placed his hand on his blaster and the other pushing Grogu and the pack behind him. His heart skipped at beat and all his worries vanished as he noticed your smile upon recognizing him.

______________

You ran to Din and wrapped your arms around him. You let go immediately since his stance with public affection still was not the best. He pushed you behind him, removing the pack with Grogu and handing it to you. You opened the lapel and smiled at your son as he nibbled on your shawl.

“I can explain,” you said.

“Explain what? The angry mob chasing you? I’d love for you to,” he said. You heard the smirk in his voice, internally thanking the Maker that he was not livid with you.

The Zabrak came forward and stopped on his heels as he saw your husband.

“Huh… Haven’t seen many Mandos lately.”

“Ahkoi,” Din greeted.

The Zabrak stopped and realization hit his eyes. He chuckled and even let out a wheeze as he took a good look at your husband and walked forward. “Mando? That you under there? This one here with you?”

You looked up at your husband as he nodded. How did he know Ahkoi?

“This one got themselves in a lot of trouble, Mando. We just wanted to teach ‘em a lesson, ya know?” He gives Din a pat on his shoulder and attempts to walk over to you, but Din pushes him back.

“Lay a hand on them and you’ll be missing it.” Din threatens.

Ahkoi nods at Din and walks backwards. Din can sense your uneasiness and fear, so he reaches a hand back physically asking for your hand, and you oblige.

“Haven’t changed, huh Mando? They talk like you.”

“Here’s what is going to happen, Ahkoi. You tell your men to get off the roofs and stop pointing their blasters at them. We’re going to go back to our ship and we’re leaving.”

Ahkoi shakes his head at Din. “They broke a lot of rules, Mando. I can’t just let it slide, even if they are with ya.”

“What they do? Told you to back off and get out of their face? Tell your men to stand down, or I will.” Din states, lifting the blaster up to Ahkoi’s head.

Ahkoi tells his men to stand down and you look around seeing about 20 men on rooftops lower their weapons. It should make you feel better, but it only makes you tense as you failed to realize they could have shot you down a long time ago.

“Fine. They can go, but lesson learned.” Ahkoi looks behind Din and over to you. “How ‘bout you take that breath you were wanting to a long time ago, huh?”

You hear Din jump off the ladder and come into the hull as you patch up a tunic the baby decided would be fun to cut. Even though you heard him, you could not help but flinch as he places a kiss at the top of your head. You quickly apologize to him and look up at him. He takes a seat next to you and puts a gentle hand on your thigh, which relaxes you a bit. You sigh and drop your sewing tools, standing up and sitting in Din’s lap. He wraps his strong arms around and you make your head comfortable on his chest. He hums a soft tune, and you smile, recognizing the song as the song you hum to him when he is having a bad day.

“I’m sorry, riduur,” you say. “I thought I knew where we were going, but I didn’t think he’d be there. I should’ve listened to you and stayed here.”

“I’m sorry for talking to you the way I did. I knew what part of the planet we were in and I didn’t want you going out there. I could have gone about it differently.”

“Why is it that whenever we get into an argument, our days always turn out the worst?” you joke.

“Because we are one whether together or apart and being angry at each other messes that balance up, obviously.”

You give him a kiss on his throat and smile when it vibrates as he laughs. “Thank you for protecting us. I only put Grogu in danger.”

“I’ll always protect the two of you. You just wanted Grogu to see new things. I can’t blame you for that.” You look up and smile at him. He smiles back and places a kiss on your lips. He pulls away and you see his lips turn into a smirk.

“However, I can blame you for turning me into a worried mess. Who gives discreet clues like that? Blue door,” he mocks. “There can be so many blue doors on this giant kriffin’ planet!”

You laugh and bring him down for another kiss, mumbling a quick “shut up”.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #dee’s requests and asks

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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years ago

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Scared & Sacred - Ch. 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible. Warnings: pregnancy, angst, lots of emotions, canon typical violence, fighting

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 2 - The Letter

Every night you prepared some more food in little portions to keep you alive on the journey you would start soon. You had three pairs of every clothing in a compartment that you would put into a bag, bought another bag on the last planet to put the food, water and a blanket in. Even got a cheap med pack on the last planet. On the next planet you‘d leave. You‘d find someone to bring you back to that harmonic place where the nurse droid told you that you were expecting.

„Cyare?“ You closed the compartment as you heard him come closer. „Hm?“ You looked up at him in front of you, holding a fuzzing Grogu. „Something‘s upsetting him.“ Arms reached up and grabbed Grogu out of Din‘s gentle grasp. „Hey, sweetpea, you‘re safe here. We won‘t let anything happen to you, yeah?“ You tried to calm him a bit. It worked a tiny bit, but he wiggled free again to sit on your lap and nuzzle into your belly. „Better?“ You chuckled and got a coo of agreement, making you chuckle. Eyes wandered up to the Mandalorian again, „It‘s okay, he can sleep here.“ It would be a nice last night having Grogu sleeping right on top of you, showing love to his sibling. You started to notice that region of your body growing harder to the touch. „Do you mind if we share?“ Din‘s modulated voice reached your ears. „I‘d prefer sleeping alone, if I‘m being honest.“ You answered softly, shutting him out of your heart and bed. „Did I do anything to upset you? You‘ve been very distant since we left Arcaro.“ That was the harmonic planet, you saved the name internally. „I miss your touch.“ „Oh, no no. Just having a lot on my mind at the moment. Going through memories of my childhood and all.“ That was only half a lie, so you didn‘t feel very bad. „If you need to talk, you know I‘m there.“ You nodded softly, starting to hear Grogu snore. „Get some sleep, Din. You have people to hunt tomorrow.“ You smiled and saw him nod before heading off to his cot.

You couldn‘t sleep with the journey ahead on your mind, so you grabbed a piece of flimsy and started writing a letter to Din that you would leave behind, attaching your soup recipe that the kid liked the most. You put it in an envelope and put it between your pillow and the mattress. Shortly after the exhaustion of the day got you to fall asleep for a few hours.

Din and Grogu were hunting for a Corellian woman while you got the last important pieces for your journey and the ship. You filled up the food supply, bought another melee weapon and you found a very used vest that would hold off blaster shots that you put on under your gown. Once all of that was done you checked through your backpack and side bag and put them on your body. A deep breath went through you as you looked around one last time. This was a great home and protection for a while, but it was time for another chapter in your life. You‘d miss Grogu a lot, as well as the beskar armored man with the patience of a Jedi.

You headed down the main street of the city to find a ship you could fly with all the way back towards the planet of Arcaro. You ended up meeting a woman that used to be a fighter for the Republic. Hated the Empire and thought bounty hunters are annoying. Seemed safe enough. As you took off she asked, „What‘s your business here?“ „Leaving behind the people that helped me run from the people that hunted my family because I‘m with child and they weren‘t ready to accept that kinda life.“ You kept it short but clear. „Damn, that sounds like a lifestory if I ever heard one. Who knocked you up?“ She was direct. Reminded you of Cara. „The man that protected me for the last months. Very kind, kind of emotionally incompetent, definitely wouldn‘t take the news well.“ „I see.“ She nodded before jumping into hyperspace. She knew you had the credits to pay her, everything else was just listening to your interesting story and getting a good tip for a market.

— POV CHANGE —

Din stepped into his ship with Grogu. It was dead silent, not completely unusual. What was unusual was the fact you didn‘t react when he called out „Cyare?“ The child in his arms cooed in confusion and looked up at him with a frown. „She might still be caught up on the market. We‘ll wait.“ But even that plan fell away once he had fully arrived home and opened the compartment that you had fully stocked before leaving. „Oh, I‘m having a bad feeling about this,“ he whispered to himself as he closed the compartment and put the scanner on his helmet on. Only your footsteps, no others in sight. That didn‘t make sense. She never really went on walks, when she did she always was back in time to welcome him. He followed the steps and arrived in another hangar. „Hey, you there!“ He pointed at the slightly intimidated man near the hangar. „Y-Yes?“ „Have you seen a human woman in white and blue gowns, a green bag and braided hair? This big, cloak is blue too, with white details on it.“ „She went through here, yes.“ „Did she seem afraid?“ „No, she was acting normal. Talked to a woman that frequently takes travellers with her to other places. Seemed to be ready for a trip.“ „Dank ferrik! Thank you.“ NOW he was a different type of concerned. Why did you leave? Willingly! He scanned over the holopad the man held, taking in the information on it that he hoped was about the ship you were in.

When he got back he noticed one of his weapons missing in his arsenal, your blue blindfold on the co-pilot seat and everything neatly cleaned and organized in the kitchen. This was starting to kill him from the inside out. What had happened? What would make you get up and leave on purpose? From the man you loved and the child you cared for so much? He checked your bed. It wasn‘t made. The only thing in here that wasn‘t neat and tidy. And there he saw it, something sticking out from under your pillow. His mind went back to the time he found a little booklet there. A booklet about human children, medical stuff. He took off his gloves and grabbed the flimsy, opening the envelope he held in his hands shortly after and noticed it was a letter addressed at him.

*Dear Din, I know this might be confusing. That I‘m gone now, that I went without telling you. I know it‘s dangerous out there and that you are a big reason I‘m still breathing, but I couldn‘t bear the idea of making a decision benefiting you and leaving me lost. When you told me you weren‘t ready for a child, I knew I had to leave. I won‘t decide against it and I didn‘t wanna hear from your voice that I shouldn‘t keep it. I‘ll miss you. I‘ll miss Grogu. He‘ll miss his unborn sibling too. I know how excited he was for it. I‘m content with knowing that the child was created out of love. Two months and about a week ago. I hope that gives you rest about the situation. I‘ll go back to Arcaro. The place with the beautiful market and one of the best nurse droids I‘ve ever met. I‘ll figure out where to go and how to be on my own from there. I hope you don‘t mind that I took one of the weapons you barely used in the last months. Have this recipe for Grogu in return, he loves it the most and sleeps the best after eating it. Love, Y/N*

Din was drowning in an ocean of feelings. He wanted to cry, scream, beg, jump in happiness and yearned to have you in his arms. Oh, how much he wanted to have you in his arms right now. How much he wished you would‘ve told him that day. He would‘ve pushed away all your doubts. He would‘ve worshipped you, your body, the wonders happening inside of you. Instead you were running from him like he was some disgusting monster.

He sat down in the pilots seat with Grogu on his arm and the letter in the other hand, setting it down gently and punching in the coordinates to the planet you mentioned. You‘d arrive there after him if he did this trick right.

— POV CHANGE —

You gave the Republic lady a big tip and a hug. „It‘s rare to meet someone to talk to like this. Thank you for the ride and the long talk.“ You smiled at her and she grabbed both of your arms gently. „I land here every now and then, so if you ever see this piece of metal land, say hello.“ She grinned and let you go.

You stepped down the ramp of her vessel to see the market you loved so much fairly empty. It was really early in the morning on this planet. You got closer to the market and saw how some vendors currently refilled their little shops. „Where do you think you‘re going?“ A dark voice was audible behind you. It was familiar. „Kuuvi?“ You turned around to the man that has been hunting you for a year now. He used to be a good friend. „Yes, it‘s me.“ You turned around to him with a smile. „How have you been?“ You asked as if he didn‘t have the capacity to kill you right there. „Eating good, having a nice ship, good people around. How about you?“ He shrugged. „Except for the nice ship I can only say the same.“ „Where is your tin can?“ „Oh, he‘s just getting some supplies. Looking for a better ship at the moment. Razor Crest is great and all, but it gets crammed in there.“ You chuckled. Being royalty made you a master of lies sometimes „Twi‘ku still wants you on his doorstep.“ He gave a dirty grin. „You still work for that half-rotten idiot with bad rates? Moff Gideon would pay you so much more, I mean he‘s the source.“ „Either would pay me enough to retire if I deliver you.“ „Well, would be against the code of any guild.“ „Huh?“ „Pregnant women aren‘t allowed to be hunted.“ With a sweet grin you watched him realize the information you had just dropped and frown, enough distracted time to run one of your knives through his throat. He grabbed after you, getting out his vibroblade, but you had a gun trained on him in return, stepping on his lung and taking out the knife. „Traitor!“ You pulled the trigger and burned a hole through his heart. Two more men were running at you, one got a blastershot to the throat and the other got your new staff punched over the head.

You looked up to see people around the market hiding behind stuff, before hearing a saber lighting up behind you. „It‘s nice to see you alone for once.“ Moff Gideon. You were dead. You were so damn dead. „What do you want from me?“ you growled and heard him chuckle. „Not much, you just took something from me that you can‘t give back.“ „My brother killing your daughter isn‘t something that involves me!“ „No, but I overheard you are with child, so we might as well call it even.“ He charged at you with his dark saber, but just before it could hit you there was something big landing between you both.

„Nobody hurts my child.“ You heard his possessive and protective voice. „Oh, how sweet.“ He attacked Din ruthlessly, making you both step back further and further. Troopers came at you from left and right and you took out the second weapon you stole from Din, shooting left and right while leaned against his back. Behind you the saber strained against Din‘s arm guards. „Give up. You won‘t win this.“ Gideon hissed at him. You heard more jetpacks land behind you. Three blue Mandalorians landed in Din‘s sight behind Moff Gideon. „You have something that‘s mine and you better give it to me.“ You heard a familiar female voice. „Bo-Katan Kryze.“ His voice was somewhere between a chuckle and an unsure shakiness. There were no living stormtroopers anymore in just seconds and the four Mandalorians closed in on Moff. His saber not working on their armor. „Any last words?“ Bo-Katan asked with a serious voice. „They‘ll never stop coming for you. For your children, your family, your friends, your religion. They will always watch.“ Din put a blaster shot through his head from a low angle, „Psycho.“

He turned around to envelope you into the safety of his arms, „Cyar‘ika!“ You were shaking and gripping onto his cape, „I‘m okay. We‘re okay.“ „You can‘t just run off like that.“ He sounded wound up, probably thinking about what would‘ve happened if he hadn‘t arrived in time. „I thought-“ „Your thoughts aren‘t the reality. You really thought I‘d tell you to get rid of your unborn child. I told you children are seen as sacred in Mandalorian culture.“ You looked behind him and got a nod from a helmetless Bo-Katan, „We‘ll get this done, go talk.“ Din tightly put his arms around you and you shot up into the sky before landing on top of a building. His hands, freed from gloves, wandered over your cheeks. „I wish you would‘ve told me. I wish so much that I could‘ve been able to tell you to stop worrying and I wish you would‘ve been able to see me jump in joy at the news. I know we don‘t talk a lot, but this was the time you should‘ve talked. If I had said something negative you still could‘ve left.“ Your lip started trembling, he was right. You were so dumb for doing this. „Hey, no no, I understand why you did it, cyare.“ His helmet touched your forehead. His hands wandered down your sides, „Can I?“ You nodded and felt his hand wander over the hardened skin on your lower belly. He went on his knees before you, hands on your hips before they wandered to his helmet. „Din, no.“ You whispered and heard the hiss. „I thought about this for a long time. There is not one way, there are multiple ways that all have the same core. Look at Bo-Katan, Boba, all these people we met. I grew up in a version of this religion that doesn’t work for me anymore, I don‘t want that to be our child's life too. I want to live it our way.“ And with that the helmet came off. „They are gone, no one can hurt you two and Grogu anymore.“ „But the Empire.“ „We‘ll deal with it.“ The helmet went down and you could finally see his face. Soft face, with harsh features, smiling, „Besides. You looked pretty hot fighting off those idiots.“ „Wait till I break your hand while delivering the child.“ You chuckled with tears streaming down your face. He was so beautiful, so gentle. His nose pressed against your belly, his grip on your hips tightening just enough for you to feel even safer. „Where‘s Grogu?“ „On the ship, probably eating all the supplies.“ You both chuckled and enjoyed the moment for a while longer. „I can‘t wait to meet you, ad‘ika,“ he whispered to your unborn baby. There was so much love in his eyes that you started crying again. „Oh, cyare.“ He took your face in his hands with a caring frown on his face. „Don‘t mind me, just hormones.“ You chuckled to lighten up the situation. „My riduur.“ His bare forehead met yours. „Huh?“ „It- It means partner.“ He said it with such an innocent unsureness that you had to whisper a small, „Oh, baby.“ „I‘ll open up to you more, yeah? We‘ll find a good planet to stay.“ „I like this one so much.“ „I know, cyar‘ika. But maybe we should go to Sorgan for a while before coming back here. Grogu will have children to play with and you will be able to relax.“ His thumbs still caressed your cheeks. „Okay, my knight in shining armor.“ You smiled and kissed his nose, before taking his helmet and putting it back on his head.

You flew back to where you had fought, finding Bo-Katan with the dark saber. „I can rule over Mandalore again and you both are more than welcome there once it‘s done.“ She sent you both a smile. „We might take you up on that.“ You smiled back at her. „We‘ll clean this up and make sure nobody else is hunting for your children. We owe you for finally having this in our hands.“ She held up the saber. „Thank you,“ Din said sincerely and nodded before you said your goodbyes and went back to the ship.

You found Grogu arms deep in a jar of nectar. „Oh Grogu.“ You giggled and he turned around with his signature coo, ears falling at being caught. „It‘s alright, but don‘t do it again. You wanna see your dada‘s face?“ You asked picking him up, cleaning him with something from one of your bags. His eyes got wider and his ears perked. You let down both your bags and the cloak before turning around to Din. „Ready?“ You smiled and he nodded before taking off his helmet. The child gasped and reached for his face, so you held him up to it. He babbled while touching all over his face, Din chuckling and intently listening. Had he always looked like that beneath the helmet when talking to Grogu? „Dada.“ His and your eyes widened at that. You turned Grogu around to look at you and praised him, „Good boy, you love your dada so much, don‘t you?“ A tiny giggle came from his body before he wiggled again. „You wanna say hello to your sibling?“ Another squeak. You sat down on the floor, so did Din while also losing some parts of his armor. He watched as the child put his hands on your belly and closed his eyes, you felt the gentle tingle again. His tiny green nose nuzzled into your skin right where he felt his sibling through the force. „You‘ll see it in a couple months.“ You smiled down at Grogu and gently touched his ears. He could sense that good things happened. That you both weren‘t as worried as you usually were. „Let‘s go to Sorgan and meet the children you like playing with, yeah?“ Another happy squeak came from the green child. „Ner aliit.“ Din murmured softly. You understood without asking. You were his family now and he was yours.

___

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian Chapter 12 rewatch thoughts

- I would like to thank them for keeping in din’s harried yet triumphant ‘hAH!!’ when he gets the explosives to stick to gideon’s ship in the ‘hey remember when this happened last season’ section, that was a nice gesture from the showrunners to me personally, I assume

- this episode actually helped me find more enjoyment in the last one, because it’s such a nice reassurance that even though they’re pulling in more stuff from other star wars media this show won’t suddenly stop being its own thing and mando won’t suddenly stop being himself and it’s very comforting to me somehow haha

- the small hesitation before din calls out “do you... do you have the wire?” lol lol lol he’s completely aware of the bizarreness of what he’s doing here but hey being alive is already so damn weird etc.

the softness of his voice the whole way through and the fact that he never, never blames the baby for not being able to do what shouldn’t really be asked of him in the first place, tho... ;____;

- the tiny exasperated head tilt din does when he realizes the hatch isn’t going to extend all the way fdslkfhasdlashfs

- din is looking down at the baby the entire time while greef talks to the mechanics ❤️❤️❤️

(the baby seems pretty drawn to/excited to see greef again and mando seems to notice which is extremely cute. he’s becoming really good at tuning in with the kid)

he also greets cara baby first in much the same way as he does peli, like he knows what the main attraction here is lol, they do a very sweet bro nod at each other. god I wish gina carano wasn’t so terrible imagine if we could just have this BrOTP without hesitations :(

I think greef is actually a bit worried to begin with after seeing the ship, he sort of takes din in intently before he huffs a little laugh and grabs his arm. it must be a bit stressful to be his friend and not be able to see his expression right away when you worry something might be seriously wrong haha

- people are finally treating the baby like you would a real baby and it’s such a blessing, everyone talking and cooing at him and baby babbling back

(I wonder if greef has children of his own? he does have an undeniable air of experienced grandpa about him in this episode, it’s adorable)

- din does so much talking -- unprompted, even! -- these days, it truly is an embarrassment of riches

- capital E Emotional about this shot with IG-11 right behind din and cara inviting him into the school in front of him. some past carried with us into the future shit going on here

IG-11′s legacy’s still got our back y’all :’) I swear to god if gideon blows up nevarro at some point I’m going to lose it

the ‘oh yeah?/that so?’ way din leans his head back after she says “wait until you see inside” is also amazing

- baby reaching out his hand like ‘can have?’ is so polite ;______; he takes after his father (including in the ‘fool me twice, I’ll fuck you up’ department haha. listen you get one chance to be cool about it and then no more mr nice mando/baby)

go ahead, kid, make a fuss about it. who are you going to tell, huh? who’s going to believe you? you gonna tell them you got bested by a baby? a magic baby? no? that’s right. I took your dignity as easily as I took your macarons, there’s nothing you can do to change it, and now you gotta live with that. sweet dreams.

(this is a joke. the baby is not evil. I hate that I even have to specify this but I’ve seen some stupid shit in the tags in my time you guys haha)

- I can’t work out what anything on greef’s desk is supposed to be, but if that’s a computer it’s got to be older than even the razor crest lol

- friends: din yes?

mando: din no, only repairs

friends: din yes please?

mando: ... [sigh] din yes

he truly has next to no defense against people he actually likes asking him for something huh lol. well a self care co-op mission clearly did him a world of good in this one at least it’s all fine

- “I’m starting to dehydrate, Boss” is an excellent line and delivered perfectly, I cackle every time (”You park your gills right there until I say otherwise” is a good runner up too)

- it’s so nice to see the small moments of communication between them in this one after mando was so out of sync with the team in the last one (and tbf those guys didn’t even try to give him any pointers at all, they really left him to flounder through the whole thing if you watch it carefully haha)

- the mythrol’s jacket still looks so comfy, I want one

- aaaaah the way din says “I don’t like this” is just so... hnnngh it’s perfect, there’s a vulnerability and openness to it for a moment. greef glances over at him like he hasn’t heard him sound like this before too, which just sells it even more

u ok bro?

you know shit’s fucked up when din djarin expresses an emotion without even being forced to by circumstance (I think what I mean is that it’s actually really rare for him to state how he feels about something just to do it, usually his communication is more practically oriented, more along ‘I think this is the best cause of action because of a and b’ lines, or like when he tells omera he’s grateful it’s... more to inform her of it and make sure she knows than to express himself? but he’s starting to do it more with people he trusts now and it gets me in the heart? man I’m finding this hard to articulate let’s move on lol)

- I really, really wonder about pershing’s position in all of this. his plea for the child’s life did sound genuine -- he did try to guard him with his own noodly scientist body when he thought din was out to hurt him, remember -- but is that only because he knows he’s in deep shit himself without the blood the baby can give? is he maybe not quite cool with whatever gideon has him doing? (he does sound quite strained when he talks about the ‘body’ rejecting the transfusion and the ‘volunteer’ potentially suffering the same fate... hm.)

idk why I want there to be something redeemable in him so bad, maybe it’s just my weird yet enduring attachment to ladon radim in stargate atlantis messing with me they’re kind of similar in some ways (yeah don’t ask me I don’t know either sometimes the heart wants what it wants in ways reason can’t explain)

- tfw ur literally launching yourself across a pool of boiling lava because you’re Dad and your baby’s in danger T__________T he just does not stop running towards that kid for even a single second help

- there’s something so innocently pure and... old fashioned? about the scene with mythrol and greef screaming the entire time they drive off the cliff, it feels like something out of a movie from like three decades ago. that whole segment feels a bit like that, it’s just there to be fun and that’s okay sometimes

- every dog fight in every movie should have a baby nonchalantly snacking on a cookie in them, it elevates the experience immeasurably (he squishes his nose a little bit with the macaron when he misses his mouth at one point, which is more than anyone should be expected to bear honestly)

I love that even all fixed up again the razor crest groans and creaks like an old tired thing when din makes it flip to dive, he 100% did take out a bunch of ferraris in his stalwart morris minor of a spaceship and I treasure him

- there’s so much life and emotion in din’s voice here I can’t!!!! I simply can’t!!!! imagine if we get to hear him openly laugh one day, would I even survive it??!!!!

also the kid makes such pitch perfect ‘having my lil nose wiped and whining about it’ baby noises when din uses his cape to clean him up (din does turn the autopilot on before he turns around to deal with it, for those who, like me, worry about these things)

- between carson showing up and the stuff the droid talks about in the lesson they’re doing quite a bit of outer rim vs. core worlds theme building in this one, I wonder if this is going to ramp up more or what

- god but gideon’s theme SLAPS tho

he’s probably going to try to fuck up everything I love but you can’t fault him on the tunes he’s going to do it to

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #and now off to bed like I should have been half an hour ago lol

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

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Stay Safe Part One: Should Have Known Better

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest indulgence. This tale will run parallel to the show, picking up between episode three [The Sin] and episode four [Sanctuary], so spoiler warnings for all portions!

Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...on Nevarro, to be specific. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel

[And here is the playlist for this (now completed) series! Be warned that this post does contain spoilers for all chapters of Stay Safe, so if you would rather just have the playlist without additional exposition or breakdown, you can find it here!]

The ship was filthy.

Whoever the pilot was had clearly gone bellying in a mudflat. Dried grime was spattered as far up as the cockpit! You wiped the sweat off your forehead, squinting in the brilliant sunlight.

She had the potential to shine, you decided, and in your current line of work, that was really what mattered. "I'll get it done." You said aloud.

"You will? Excellent!" The person hellbent on hiring you pressed a small, yet strangely-weighty bundle of cloth into your hands. "Your payment. The other half will be delivered upon completion." They said, voice muffled through their thick cowling. You waved off their promise, absently giving them the usual 'the work is its own reward' rigmarole as you made a mental list of what you would need to pick up from your tools.

A few panels looked dented and carbon-scored underneath all the mud; this puddlejumper had clearly seen some kind of action. Not too surprising, what with the Empire getting upended. Skirmishes were all too common in the brave new world, where the tenuous New Republic sought to bring peace to a galaxy full of warlords and criminals.

In hindsight, you probably should have checked what you were being paid with. You might have saved yourself a lot of trouble.

Instead, you launched yourself headfirst into sweeping the crusted muck off the cockpit shielding and scrubbing as high as you could reach on the grungy fuselage. Clients sometimes got antsy about you traipsing around on top of their fancy vessels with your sturdy boots, so you always did your best to be expedient when brushing off the sand and grime.

Once the brunt of the outside work had been done, you went and punched in the code you had been given to open the hatch.

Nothing happened.

You pulled your notebook and tiny charcoal stub from your side pouch, running your eyes down the line of old codes from previous jobs. No, that had been correct. How bizarre! What if the owner had changed it and forgotten?

You grimaced at the keypad. You hated leaving a job half-finished. Maybe you could guess it? It would be a fair bit easier than trying to locate the owner, and you didn't want them returning to find you twiddling your thumbs.

To your surprise, it only took six tries at the combination before the boarding ramp extended with a throaty hiss. Your grin of triumph at your own cleverness was woefully short-lived as the thunder of approaching footsteps alerted you to the fact that you were no longer alone. You went to turn and see who was coming, barely glimpsing the bundle that was your payment flying at your face with purpose.

Metal, you realized dimly before consciousness deserted you.

…

You awoke to a boot in your ribs and you coughed, gasping for air. The bundle was clutched to your chest tightly. How had you picked it up? The last thing you remembered was getting clobbered with it. Why would your attacker leave you with your payment?

You opened your eyes sluggishly, realizing even in your barely-coherent state that you were in the hold of that ship you had been cleaning. "Wonderful." You groaned. Your whole body felt bruised. This wasn't exactly your first time being Shanghaied, but it definitely was up there on the list of 'experiences that don't bear repeating'.

Now, to find out who owned the boot that had so graciously awoken you from your slumber. You struggled to roll over, still keeping a hand on the heavy bundle. As you moved to stand, however, the cloth that made up the bundle began to unwind. You clumsily fought to catch the edges to no avail, fumbling the whole thing until it ended up dropping to the floor with a resounding clack!. Whatever was inside it was clearly metallic, but you already knew that from how sore your face was.

Any further musing on what it could be took a back seat to the disruptor rifle suddenly inches away from your face.

"Wait!" You yelped, your hands raised over your head.

The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, the pronged rifle barrel trained between your eyes. You had never seen a Mandalorian so close before, but right now was hardly the time to dwell on the magnanimous rarity of the occasion!

"Oh, oh please wait. I...this is all a huge mistake. Please don't shoot me." They didn't move and you took that as your cue to start trying to get yourself out of this mess. "I've been working this port all cycle, I was hired to clean thi-"

"Not by me, you weren't." A male voice, clipped and irritated but distinctly human even through the doubled-back modulator on that helmet. "Continue."

"I…" You were at a bit of a loss. You had been hoping, albeit vainly, that it was a droid under all the beskar. You might have been able to reason with a droid. "W-Well, I…"

"Five seconds." The rifle clicked loudly and you flinched, closing your eyes.

"Okay, okayokayokay, I was h-hired. At the port." You rushed to explain, tripping over your words in your haste. "I didn't get a good look at him, he was all wrapped up like everyone else. He showed me this ship and I told him I would absolutely do it. I was p-promised two-part payment, half now and half on completion."

You swallowed hard, daring to squint open your eyes. The Mandalorian hadn't moved a muscle, that T-shaped visor alone keeping you pinned with its unfriendly glare.

"Um, I went to open the hatch once I got done with the hull and it, uh, wouldn't open," you stuttered. "Th-The man who hired me gave me the wrong code. So I tried a bunch of different ones."

A heavy sigh issued from the helmet. "Until you got the right one."

"Yes." You pointed down to the analog flight notebook hanging out of your hip pouch. "I've never been good at remembering codes. But the next thing I knew, I was attacked from behind!"

"Karga must have been waiting for you to get the door open." The Mandalorian muttered, lowering his rifle slightly. "Doesn't explain the beskar, though."

"Beskar?" You repeated.

He gestured downward and you followed his hand to the formerly wrapped bundle, now revealed to be a single ingot of beskar. The Imperial crest stamped into it gave you pause, the symbol by itself enough to make you uneasy.

"It was my...p-payment." You suddenly felt tiny. Everything you had heard about Mandalorians pointed towards them being an incredibly stoic and honor-bound society. Their beskar armor was revered, practically sacred; attempting to remove a Mandalorian's helm by force was akin to asking for death. Who knew where this beskar had even come from?!

You were in deep trouble.

A breath chuffed out of him and he carefully scooped the metal up off the floor, brushing away a tiny bit of grime. "Not anymore, it's not." He growled, re-wrapping the ingot in the cloth. You bowed your head in acquiescence, startled when two leather-clad fingers tilted your chin back up. "Your nose," He began, his thumb scrubbing at something crusted above your upper lip, "it's bloody."

"I remember getting whacked with that right after I opened the hatch." You grimaced. "Is it bad? It's probably pretty bad."

"It's not great." Your attention was abruptly drawn to the side when you heard a soft cooing noise. A blaster barrel replaced his fingers under your chin even as you moved. "I wouldn't try anything." He warned.

"I'm not, I'm not." You whispered in reply, your whole body shaking. Gods, he was fast. Even with you just shifting on instinct alone, he easily outpaced you. "I heard-"

"I know what you heard." He spat. "As much as I'd love to throw you out the airlock, I'm sure I'd get more for you alive somewhere else."

For the first time, you noticed the sound of the FTL engines humming. Oh. He had taken off while you were unconscious. Honestly, you had probably been a nasty shock for him when he came across you all curled up in the cargo bay.

That soft noise caught your ear again, but this time you forced yourself not to move. The Mandalorian exhaled after a moment, taking a step back and holstering his blaster. "What I want to know is," He paused, like he was mentally mulling something over while he weighed the slab of beskar in his palm. "Are you any good with younglings?"

You stared up at his visor blankly. All the other stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, the seedier ones, came rushing to the forefront of your mind, leaving you a little flushed in the face. "I...I'm not too bad? I've got none of my own, b-b-but it's not like I have an issue with them?" Your reply was half a question in and of itself.

"Good. Your job is to manage the child until I can find someplace to deal with you."

"'Deal with me'?" You squeaked. "I'd really like to go back to Nevarro, if it's all the same to you."

"You stowed away on my ship. Inadvertently or not, that's a crime I don't take lightly."

"Wait, b-but--" A reedy cry cut you off and you finally saw what was making all the noise. "Oh." You breathed.

It was definitely a baby. A baby what, you had no clue. But a baby all the same. It was tiny, sporting enormous ears that dwarfed its green body. Huge black eyes shone in the dim light of the hold, and a minute hand with three fingers stretched out towards the Mandalorian from the comfort of its bassinet.

"I trust there won't be any problems?" The beskar-clad man across from you asked, seeming a little bemused by how quiet you had gone.

"What's their name? What do they eat? They're so small, I've never seen anything like it!" You babbled nervously, barely able to fight back the primal urge to pinch their cheeks.

"No name. It'll eat damn near anything. I've seen it eat live mudjumpers whole." The Mandalorian replied shortly. "Doesn't seem to eat regularly, though. Might be boredom motivated." The armored individual waited a beat before speaking again, the strap securing his blaster making a loud snap in the stillness he created, "Anything happens to it, I kill you. Understand?"

"Ab...absolutely." You nodded jerkily, wincing when your neck protested the motion.

"Good." He turned on his heel and pointed towards the alcove off to the side of the ladder. "Refresher is there. You do anything I don't like and you're getting slabbed. Full carbon treatment." He informed you brusquely. "You're not quarry yet. Don't make yourself quarry."

"Got it. Th-Thanks for not vaporizing me on sight. I'm sorry about," You gestured helplessly around you, "all of this."

"An apology from you means nothing to me." He informed you, not unkindly. "I'd rather learn who the person that hired you was, and why they were paying you in Imperial beskar."

"I had no idea what it actually was. I was so excited to get started, I didn't even look at it." You confessed. "For all I knew it could have been a rock."

"You're not particularly bright, are you?"

"I like what I do." You retorted before you could think twice about it.

He stayed by the ladder for a moment, and then stalked back towards you. You braced yourself, waiting to get blown to smithereens. Instead, he stopped a good two feet away and barked, "hand over your tools."

"M-My--"

"Tools. Any weapons. Drop them." His voice came out as a modulated snarl. "Now." Shakily you undid the heavy buckle at your waist, then struggled out of your shoulder straps and dropped the whole belt on the deck. You hesitated a second, something that he absolutely noticed. "Do I have to slab you or are you going to cooperate?" He inquired.

Your last ounce of bravery went out the hold at his threat and you hurried to unstrap the sheath attached to the inside of your calf under your pants. "Hang on, I just-" You plopped down on the floor, shoving your pants leg up around your knee. "Shit, c'mon please." You begged under your breath, tears pricking your eyes while the buckles refused to budge. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm trying-"

"Stop."

You froze, watching out of your periphery as he crouched in front of you. Gloved hands miles more dexterous than your own made quick work of the sheath buckles. He was close enough for you to see your terrified reflection in his helmet, warped by the contours it bore.

"Breathe." He reminded you. "I haven't slabbed you yet. Don't give me a reason to and you'll be fine."

"Right, right." You choked.

The blade came loose with one sharp tug and you heard him whistle. "What in the hell is someone like you doing with a knife this mean?" He asked incredulously, testing the heft of the nearly cleaver-sized weapon.

"I traded some rocks for it." You whispered.

He huffed out a breath in what might have been an expression of mirth, rising to his full height to give the knife a practice swing. It sang as he ripped it through the air, a testament to his substantial strength. "Not sharp?" He sounded curious.

"It's for crushing."

He twisted his wrist back and forth, lazily twirling the knife by the handle. "You'd rather maim than kill?"

"I'm not smart enough to make good use of a sharp blade." You recited the phrase you had heard aimed at you so often in your youth. He paused in his motions with the knife, his helmet visor slowly turning towards you as you continued. "It's too easy to get comfortable with hurting if you have a weapon that doesn't take any thought to use. Like a sharp knife or...or a quick blaster." Or a disruptor rifle, you added mentally.

He dropped back into a crouch in front of you, effortlessly balancing his weight on his heels. You swallowed hard, still unnerved by the proximity of a real, honest-to-gods Mandalorian. You had seen a few of them in your travels, but never up close and you had certainly never spoken with any of them. Their armor alone exuded a certain air that tended to dissuade attempts at conversation.

"Wise words." With a strange amount of care, the armored man replaced your knife in its sheath. "I'll hang onto it for right now. Don't try anything stupid and you might get it back." He muttered. Despite the featureless void of his visor, you got the impression that he was studying you intently. "Take care of the kid." A rag was thrust at your face. "Wash the blood off from under your nose."

…

Honestly, it was a relatively easy gig.

You quickly discovered that the child liked it when you sang, even if it was just nonsense words and babble. You made up a song on the spot about the dewback that jumped over the blue milk moon, sitting on the floor and serenading the giggly being while you cleaned yourself up with the warm rag.

They appeared to be maybe toddler age, just getting to the point where they were learning by putting everything in their mouth. You lost track of how many objects you eased away from them, finally resorting to relocating the hazards into an empty cargo net overhead.

There was one thing in particular that they seemed to love, a silver ball with a threaded hole in it. They rolled it back and forth on the deck, squealing excitedly when you got involved in their little game of fetch. At least they didn't seem keen on putting it into their mouth, thank the Maker for small favors.

You knew enough time had passed that you should be hungry, but the idea of asking for anything made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The child only ate when they were bored, right? Maybe you ought to adopt the same schedule.

Your mind wandered back to the Mandalorian as you engaged the tyke in a rousing game of peekaboo, their explosive giggles making you smile in spite of your lingering aches and pains. How had someone like him come across this baby? If he was a bounty hunter, as the empty carbonite slab hangers overhead would indicate, what was he doing with such a small child?

"Well," you said aloud, "it's not as if kids are just convenient things that drop out of the sky when you're ready for them." You clapped your hands and the child mimicked you, bouncing a little. You set into a barely-remembered song from when you yourself had been quite young, "Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'..."

Your father had often sang while he cooked meals, pausing occasionally to throw you a grin. You imagined it must have made your parents' toil-filled days of farming a little more bearable. You vaguely recalled the sound of their voices, but the years between their deaths and the present day stretched long. All you had left now were half-impressions of your mother's fond smile and your father's songs, fleeting and bittersweet.

You blinked away the memories when you felt the touch of a small hand on your sleeve, looking down at the child. They chirped at you, tilting their head to the side. "Hello, little one." You whispered, noting that their enormous eyes were half-lidded. "Are you sleepy?" They yawned in reply, making you smile slightly. It was almost as if they understood what you were saying! "Alright, let's go to sleep."

After checking to make sure that they were still dry, you tucked them into their cradle. Then, you tugged the bassinet over behind a stack of crates, proceeding to curl up on the floor in your cloak. You kept one hand draped over the side of the cradle, smiling blearily when you felt tiny fingers take hold of your index.

You had never had any issues sleeping in an unfamiliar environment and despite your rumbling stomach, tonight was no exception. You were exhausted and sore from the day's events and you were more than ready to put it all behind you.

…

Something was nudging your side.

You frowned, flailing an arm out of the warm cocoon you had created with your cloak. The back of your hand hit steel, and then your palm landed on what seemed to be a boot upper. "Five minutes." You murmured, patting the leather and trying to recall where you were without opening your eyes.

"Get up."

The ship detail. Getting hit with the beskar. Mandalorian. The child-

You thrashed your legs out of your cloak, suddenly more awake than you had ever been in your life. "Where is the baby?" You asked frantically, "I'm sorry, I-I just-"

"The kid is over there." The Mandalorian jerked his helmet to the side, indicating the cradle. "Still sleeping." He took hold of your elbow, pulling you upright. "Come on."

You straightened out your tunic and followed his silent form up the ladder to the cockpit, your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your cape tightly around you, your shivering having nothing to do with the temperature. Through the clear shielding you glimpsed the sight of tall coniferous trees, gray-green in the light of dawn. How long had you slept for?

He settled into the pilot seat, swiveling it backwards to face you after a moment. "Sit." He gestured behind you to one of the co-pilot chairs.

You did so, trying your hardest to hide how much you were trembling. He wouldn't kill you right now, would he? No, not in the cockpit. There would be blood everywhere-

"Hey!" The Mandalorian barked, gloved fingers waving in front of your eyes. "Focus. Are you cold?"

"N-No, not at all." You denied through chattering teeth, your back aching with the strain of holding yourself still.

"Then why the hell are you shaking?"

"I'm terrified." You admitted bluntly.

"Oh." He was silent for several moments, letting you panic inwardly. "Well, knock it off." He muttered gruffly. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

"You...you're not?"

"No." You went nearly boneless at his exasperated grunt, feeling as though you had just run a marathon. "You're good with the kid. It's been quiet. No one trying to pilfer any of the shiny things I have to fly with, or touching important switches."

"Glad to be of service." You replied weakly.

"Don't make me change my mind." He growled, jabbing a finger at your face. "If I find out you were planted on here by the Guild to double cross me, I won't hesitate to blow a hole in your sternum. Do we understand each other, stowaway?"

"Y-You drive a hard bargain." You squeaked, bunching your fists in your tunic. His hand remained extended and after a moment he impatiently jerked his chin down at it. "Oh!" You tried to subtly wipe your sweaty palm off on your thigh before you accepted the handshake, nodding stiffly.

"If I double cross you, you can feel free to take your mean little knife and crush my ribcage with it." The Mandalorian rotated his wrist, the movement fluid and nonchalant. "Turn and turn alike."

"I think you might have an unfair advantage. That knife is no match for beskar." You pointed out, almost delirious with relief.

"It's not about the tool, it's about how you utilize it."

Your empty stomach suddenly decided to make itself heard, growling deafeningly loud. You flushed, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

"Stars, was that a Corellian hound?" The bounty hunter tossed a small pouch your way, the bag landing in your lap with a quiet crinkle. "Eat the rest of that. Today, we look for lodging." He ordered.

Your question of whether he would possibly consider returning you to Nevarro died in your throat and you bit your lip, struggling with the seal on the bag.

The jerky-like substance, traditionally made from the tough, bitter pulp of hubba gourds, served to take the hard edge off of your hunger and give your mouth something to do while the Mandalorian did his pre-departure walkthrough.

He halted by the now-full cargo net loaded with the flotsam and jetsam from the floor of the hold and turned to look at you, his head tilted slightly in question.

"Baby wanted to mouth things, so I had to put them out of reach." You elaborated after swallowing.

"Little womp rat." The armored man grumbled, sounding strangely fond. The womp rat in question babbled from their crib, their arms outstretched in the universal sign for pick me up! The Mandalorian ignored them, continuing his sweep.

He finally nodded, appearing satisfied with the state of things. You moved to scoop the child out of their crib, only to get stopped in your tracks by a very familiar knife sheath hitting your chest.

"Weapons on before we leave the ship." The Mandalorian muttered. "Remember our agreement. You can have your tools later if you prove yourself trustworthy."

You took the knife back, wordlessly strapping the sheath to your calf once more. The weight was an immense comfort and you felt your nervous energy still for a brief moment. "Okay." You breathed, clenching your fists and then shaking out your tense shoulders.

The Mandalorian nodded towards the child. "Let him walk. He needs to use his legs."

While the boarding ramp hydraulics hissed and creaked, you dug around in your side pouch. You didn't have much in the way of actual credits, normally you accepted trades of goods or food. "Here, I...um, for when we get lodging." The seven credits looked pitiful even to your eyes, so you could only imagine what this obviously-successful bounty hunter must think of them.

He waved you off, one gloved hand closing your fingers securely around the meager fistful. "Save them for a rainy season, stowaway."

"B-But-"

"We still don't even know whether we will find lodgings here," He reminded you. "Hang onto them."

"I'm not going to just scab off of you." You protested as he walked down the ramp. "I can work, I know ships inside and out and I can-"

"We can discuss it later." He said over his shoulder, the words muffled by his cape, "once I've decided you're worth the trouble."

You huffed out an annoyed breath, jamming the credits back into your pouch. "Oh of course, wouldn't want to trouble you with bringing me back to fucking Nevarro." You muttered. The child squealed, tugging on your pants leg and pointing towards the forest. "Yeah, we'd better get a move on." You agreed quietly.

With mindfully-shortened steps, you set off to follow the armored man. At least he was shiny enough to be spotted easily in the sun-dappled forest.

Part Two

#Welcome one and all #welcome back to hell #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #eventual romance #mandalorian spoilers #this will be great I promise #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #how do I tag this #I'm so excited #enjoy!#pedro pascal #I love one man #and he wears beskar

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heavenseed76 · 3 years ago

Text

Arco Iris

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

Rating: PG13 (for now)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence

A/N: This is not a new idea, for sure, but one I've never explored before. There will be much angst, and rating will go up as it goes along. Slow burn.

Chapter 1: Aimless

Aimless. That was the word that came to mind when Din Djarin sought to define how he felt. Aimless. No covert to provide for. No desire to fulfill his appointed destiny as ruler of Mandalore. No real drive to find a new ship and return to bounty hunting. All of those things would require effort on his part. He had the means to buy whatever ship he wanted. He had a lucrative job with Boba on Tatooine if he chose. He could be king of a whole fucking planet; the key to Mandalore lay at the bottom of a trunk in Cara Dune’s spare room. None of it mattered. Whenever he thought of doing any of these things, there was a hole there, it’s shape distinct and fathomless. Finding the rest of his people felt like the most viable option. He’d found the kid’s people, now he should find his. But that would require effort. Effort to forget, effort to step past that gaping hole that sought to swallow him. A swirling, sucking black hole, it was, seeking to pull him in and in and in until it crushed him. He hovered outside its gravity, not caring if he tipped over the edge, though not bothering to leap in either. Aimless.

That’s where he found himself, roaming the streets of Nevarro, an hour to kill before he had to pick up a cart of supplies for the magistrate from the landing pad outside the town. The day was bright and clear, cloudless as far as the eye could see. The market was just opening, fresh faces setting up for the day, smiling and calling out greetings to one another as they placed tables and baskets on the packed clay earth. They paid him no mind; he was a familiar sight these days, the Mandalorian from Nevarro. He was neither feared nor hated. He just was.

His feet had taken him to a familiar market stall, where an old man was being sat down in a rickety chair just outside his dwelling. A young woman in light grey robes easing the aged figure into the seat with practiced and loving hands. The man held a staff, it’s top third wrapped in leather, his face a rictus of pain, deepening the sulci of his wrinkled and time-work skin. Din came to stand in front of the man, casting a long shadow over him. The man smiled warmly and held out a withered hand.

“Mando! To what do I owe the pleasure! It’s been a long time my son!”

“Ezekiel. It has been awhile. I’ve been away on business.” Din offered, taking the man’s hand in both of his.

The woman who had helped Ezekiel to sit was raising the dwelling’s awning behind him, providing more shade.

“Business, of course. I received that Krayt skin you sent from Tatooine. Gorgeous, just beautiful! Now perhaps you’ll tell me the real story.” Ezekiel leaned in to Din with a conspiratorial edge to his voice. His milky, blind eyes crinkled with mirth.

Din’s shoulders shook with a snicker that didn’t quite make it through the vocoder in his helmet. “My message told the whole story Zeke. Killed it from the inside out, I swear!” Din patted the old man’s hand affectionately.

Ezekiel snatched his hand away, affronted. “Now you can’t lie to old Ezekiel!” He pointed an accusing finger at Din. “And if that’s the story, there’s no way I’m letting you give me this treasure. It ain’t every day a man gets swallowed by a Krayt Dragon and lives to tell the tale, now.” Ezekiel sat back in his chair. “Now, what can I do you for, Mando?”

Din smiled beneath the helmet, but outwardly he just shook his head in amusement. Ezekiel was likely the oldest resident of Nevarro, a leather-smith by trade who made his living by making the finest gloves, holsters, bandoliers and other leather goods outside of Naboo. His weathered and arthritic hands were a testament to how hard he worked, refusing to resort to droids and machines to do the intricate sewing and forming and sculpting animal hides into usable items.

“I lost my ship some months ago. I need to replace my secondary gear. All I have is what I have on me.” Din said quietly.

Ezekiel shook his head in sympathy, tutting. “Ain’t that something. Sorry to hear it, son.” Ezekiel scratched under his lip. “You have a list?”

“I do.” Din pulled out a piece of flimsi. It was worn, having been folded and refolded, written on and crossed out over and over again.

Ezekiel motioned for the woman who had assisted him to sit, who was now standing by the open door to their home, watching the exchange. “Have you met my granddaughter?” Ezekiel smiled up at Mando as the woman approached, pride and affection radiating off the elderly man. “Sera, this is Mando. Mando, this is my Serafim.”

For a moment, Din couldn’t move. The woman in the light grey cloak appeared to be a void, her skin was so dark. Her hair was only slightly lighter than her skin, hanging in dreadlocks adorned with silver bands, shells and beads. Only the pouty bow of her mouth and her impossibly light grey eyes cut through the coal black of her skin. While her expression was not unkind, it was hard as she held out her hand for the list Din held.

“Hello. Serafim.” Din replied with a start. He handed the list over, letting it slip through his fingers. He watched as she took it, her own hand a dichotomy of dark and light, her palm several shades lighter than the skin of wrist and arm. The contrast of the silver cuff she wore even more stark as it glinted in the sun.

“Mando.” Serafim’s smile was thin and didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m getting old and I’ll be moving on soon. Sera will take over here when I’m gone.” Ezekiel spoke as if he would be going on an extended vacation, rather than his impending death from old age. “Oh! I almost forgot!” Ezekiel made to rise. “I have your last order in the back. Rancor leather, pair of gloves. Been gatherin dust.”

Serafim put a hand on Ezekiel’s shoulder. “I’ll get them, Papa.” She helped Ezekiel ease back into the seat once again and disappeared into the house without a glance back to the Mandalorian.

“I’ll be sure to get on that list. Sera will be my apprentice, if that’s alright.” Ezekiel smiled.

“That will be fine.” Din agreed in his signature stoic manner.

Around Ezekiel’s stall, more of the market was coming to life, banners waving in the wind, all shades and textures advertising food, electronics, weapons and household items. Some of the higher-end shops boasted their wears with neon signs that shone even in the day, offsetting their message with brightness against the dull grey of their tinted windows, the transperisteel a darker shade to give it contrast.

“Here you are Papa.” Serafim held out a small package to Ezekiel who simply gestured to the Mandalorian.

“Well, have him try them on.” he said.

Serafim held the paper-wrapped bundle out to Din. He took it from her hand and laid it on the table between them, unwrapping it. Mid-grey leather gloves lay folded in the paper, the scent of the curing lotion wafting up and permeating the air even through the filters in his helmet. Din pulled off his own gloves and set them aside, pulling on the new gloves. He wriggled his hand in them, the leather feeling stiff. “Seems small.” He mumbled.

“They need to be worked in. Sera, help the man out.” Ezekiel instructed.

Sera huffed through her nose, displeased, but reached over the table nonetheless. Din held out his arm to her. Sera pulled off the glove and turned it almost inside out before reaching over and clasping her hand around Din’s wrist.

It was a punch to the gut that knocked the wind out of both of them. Blazing white light burst behind their eyes and then the world was flooded with color. The banners blowing in the breeze, the rich clay of the earth, Din’s orange gloves, Sera’s deep soil-dark skin and impossibly blue eyes. Sera was touching a live wire and couldn’t let go. Neon green bakery signs and red banners, purple baskets and colors neither had a name for flooded their senses until Din took a step back and Sera let go of his wrist.

Gasping for air, both Sera and Din heaved in lungfuls of precious oxygen, gripping the table between them.

“What did you do?” Din choked out.

“Color? Is this... color?” Sera asked.

Beside them, Ezekiel had taken in the brief exchange with curiosity. Now, he understood. A smile crept over his face as Din and Sera regained their equilibrium. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

#the mandalorian #the Mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x oc #mando fanfiction #7daynosmutchallenge #pedro pascal characters

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pikemoreno · 4 years ago

Note

favorite writers on here?

alright alright, this’ll be fun and a long, long list. first off:

star wars characters

@tintinwrites- the best poe fics. i love everything of caitlin’s i’ve ever read. i have a terrible attention span for long series sometimes but hers are so easy to get into and just never stop reading??

@starryeyedstories- amazing poe and cassian fics. the fluff always makes my heart soarrrrr. such a natural at fluffy goodness.

@poeticandors- also really really nice poe and cassian fics!! (also writes for other characters but those are just the ones i’ve read) v good! i remember ‘didn’t mean it’ in particular? it breaks your heart and then puts it right back together

@beskars- hooo boy. one of the very few obi wan writers and woooow. *chefs kiss* love me some of elisha’s obi. but we all already be knowin elisha’s writing is quality.

@no-droids *screams* their din, cassian, and obi-wan are all EXCEPTIONAL i try not to put a lot of gratuitous smut on my blog so that’s why i haven’t commented on every single thing but like... this is THE STUFF. right here. sucks you right in.

@acomplicatedprofession- so, yes, lari IS a p*dro character writer, really. B U T. her cassian fic is one of the best fics my eyes have consumed. it’s cute and saucy and i’m in looove with it.

p*dro characters

@rzrcrst- i’ve read a lot of kenzie’s one shots (mostly binged- need to go back and leave lots of juicy comments because i didn’t before like a terrible human) and they’re just chef’s kisses everywhereee. but her crowning jewel, sanctuary, is on my reading list and i can’t wait to read it.

@mandadoration- i made it through all her whiskey fics when i was on a whiskey kick a bit ago and hooooooo. i could read ‘you’re a fine girl’ 100 times and never get sick of it. looking forward to binging all the delicious mando content as well soon!

@longitud-de-onda- camila is just a gorgerous gem PERIOD. but her writing is so gorgeous and riveting. they’re all such wonderful studies of character and personality and what makes people tick.

@hopelikethesun- now... i do not search out javi fics generally. i love me some javi but eh he’s just not generally my first choice of fic for some reason. but mtmf is one of the few exceptions. it’s beautiful, it really is.

@spacegayofficial - the headcanons are so fabulous, for one. but the first thing i think about with tori is their max phillips fics? they’re so good. one of the only people i’ve seen write max (and be AMAZING at it btw. that one fic... yanno that one... like i said before, i try to not reblog gratuitous smut to my blog so i need you to know now: that fic awakened something kind of terrifying in me.)

@madadlorian- i walked into a gilded lie a max lord hater and will i still probs hate canon lord? yeah. but am i in unashamed love with amber’s version? 100% (also really love ‘if you don’t love me now’ btw. i’ve read it multiple times)

@lesqui- les writes right from the soul. it’s all just beautiful and poetic. ‘m in love with les AND les’s writing.

@catfishingmorales- THE RANGER!VERSE. that’s all i can say. the ranger!verse is one of the best, most wholesome things on this godforsaken site. casualties made me feel things. i could read it another 50 times easily.

@hdlynnslibrary- jUST POSTED A NEW FIC AND I’M EXCITED. her writing is as sweet and lovely as she is.

@secretpajamas wrote MARCUS PIKE smut like a BOSS. one of the few times i allowed gratuitous smut to be reblogged onto my blog. AHHHHHH. i’ve read it three times.

@keeper0fthestars- lovely lovely lovely person who writes an even lovelier frankie. SO SO good and real and perfect.

@marcusplke- my kindred spirit in writing for good ol’ pike. *squee* so nice. it broke me and i loved it

@softpedropascal- pragma is one of the series i’m reading that i’m most excited to see updates for. it’s gorgeous. so gorgeous. so complex and emotional. and NAILS frankie’s character.

@qveenbvtch i’ve read their shorter works/headcanon posts and WHEW BOY W H E W. it’s all so incredibly well written. exceptional. realllllyyyy excited to read funtimes in babylon soon. i’ve had my eye on it a while.

as a bonus:

on my list to read, so you should join me in reading them:

@dindjarindiaries - i’ve read her shorter things like headcanons yanno and they’re always sooo great, but i have molly’s masterlist on my list of things to binge and i’m very pumped about it. it all looks so good

@damerondjarin- loooove all the lil headcanons and things from taylor. a masterlist i’m reallllyyy excited to binge.

@murdermewithbooks- mmmmmm... i’ve read tidbits and i’m jazzed to read more!!!

@themandjalorian- *clappy hands* jeni’s reviews always get me amped to read other fics! amped to sit down and read hers too!!!

@sunshinepascal- is a sweetie!!!! i’ve read tidbits enough to know that i’m very excited to binge this masterlist

ALSO my tag /fic+rec has, well, fics i’ve recommended, in case i missed any here (don’t go past page like 10. it turns into a different fandom and i need to fix it)

#Anonymous #thanks for giving me social interaction

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 5 years ago

Text

The Injury

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Smut! Angst, fluff, language, and violence.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I was going to wait to post this but I failed. I listened to “Mary” by Big Thief a lot when writing this, (which is also found in an episode of The Umbrella Academy and bonus points if you can pick out the lyric! My bby Klaus) and I highly recommend just listening to it in general. I also want to give a big shout out to everyone for giving me the confidence to keep going, I love you guys!

The Mandalorian’s Love Series

“We’ll be okay.”

“We will… we will.”

Din knew this day was bound to come. It was supposed to be a job between him and the new gunslinger; Y/N wasn’t ready to fully commit to something this dangerous, he’d let her do small jobs with him, kill a few people if they had to. But not something as dangerous as what they were in for.

…

Y/N was just starting to get used to the explosions. She had been traveling with Din for almost a year now, and at first she was very overwhelmed with the fast pace of the Mandalorian’s life and the action that came with it.

“Nice one liner,” Y/N teased as Din helped her turn the controls back on in the Razor Crest.

He half sighed half chuckled. “Thanks.”

Checking on the giggling baby, she sat back down in her seat with a grin.

…

“Are you sure it’s okay to leave him here?”

Y/N watched as Din tucked in the sleeping Child in his quarters, his hands brushing over him with such a gentle touch that she almost jumped him right then and there.

“He’s asleep.” Was all he said before walking down the ramp.

She contemplated arguing with him, but there was what seemed to be a very nice lady here working on the ship. They wouldn’t be gone long anyway. Still, she felt like an irresponsible parent as she followed after him.

“We won’t be gone long,” she heard him say to Peli Motto. “No one goes into the ship. And no droids.”

Motto scoffed. “Okay okay. No droids. Probably take a little longer then.”

“That’s fine. We’ll be back with your payment.”

Y/N once asked him about his hatred for droids, to which he barely gave her an answer for and left it at that. She knew it was a touchy subject and that it went deep into his roots, but she would wait until he was ready to tell her. Until then, she would just agree to his ‘no droids’ terms.

Tatooine wasn’t such a bad place as Y/N almost expected it to be. The cantina was nicer than most, calmer as well. But she was worried there wouldn’t be much work in that.

“I can help,” a young man said once he heard the Mandalorian ask for a job.

Now Y/N wasn’t so sure of him. He seemed too cocky and arrogant; not that that was a crime, but it was also very dangerous in their line of work. But Din thought he ought to hear what the man had to say anyway.

The young gunslinger, whom they learned was Toro Calican, was an excited hunter, eager to have his name whispered among the best of the best. Din seemed iffy with him as well, but they needed the money for Motto and it was worth a shot. Plus, the kid just wanted to join the guild.

“You don’t understand, Y/N,” Din argued as they were walking back to the ship. “Fennec Shand is dangerous, I mean more dangerous than I am. I can’t risk with it, especially not with the Child.”

Y/N was getting annoyed and Din could clearly see it as she put her hands on her hip; she could be very stubborn when she wanted to be.

“So? I’ve done plenty of dangerous things with you and I’m still here. Besides, you could use all the help you can get, and to be honest, I’m not so sure about your new partner there.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “I know. And I trust you, I know what you’re capable of. But the answer is still no. Go back to the ship and stay with the baby. If I don’t come back by tomorrow, leave. Take whatever can and just go. Please.”

She’d never heard him beg her like this over a bounty. This Shand assassin must have really been a big deal, and it scared her too. She knew Din was more than capable of handling himself, and hell he had been doing his job just fine on his own. She hated this type of fear. She hated the anxiety and pain that came with it. It could literally kill her.

Y/N sighed heavily through her nose; the repair dock was in view now. “Okay.”

The first thing they did was go into the ship to check on the Child. When they found only his blanket, Din and Y/N went into automatic panic mode, Y/N being faster than the Mandalorian when rushing out of the ship.

“Where is he?” The Mandalorian growled at the droids as Y/N started for the shop.

“Ah I’m awake! I’m awake!”

Y/N turned towards the source, finding both Motto and the baby startled out of a nap. Y/N made a noise of relief, waiting for Motto to come towards them; she needed to calm the pounding of her heart.

“You woke the little guy up,” Motto complained as the baby made noises of displeasure.

“Both of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, leaving this little one on the ship by himself. Don’t you know how to be parents?”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Din was in shock as well, looking back and forth between the woman and the Child in her arms.

“Thank you,” Din finally said, his voice cracking with gratitude. Y/N nodded after, smiling in gratitude as well.

“I’m going to leave for the money. Y/N is going to stay here with the Child.”

Motto looked back and forth between them, sensing a suspicious but, to Y/N’s relief, keeping her mouth shut.

“Alright.”

Y/N always worried when Din went on a job by himself or without her. Sometimes, as horrible as it sounds, she would think about what would happen if Din did die; she knew he would want her to move on, to take care and protect the baby and just be happy. But she had her doubts about herself; she’d be damaged beyond repair if she lost him.

“You look like you could use a little drink.”

Y/N jumped out of her thoughts, looking up at the woman from her chair. They had gotten down with the repairs not that long ago, watching as night fell and everything became quiet.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Y/N chuckled.

“Sure it is,” Motto scoffed. “I’m sure you could use a little break, between that adorable baby and that Mandalorian.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. Y/N Y/L/N and her Boys.

“So what exactly is the deal with you two?” Motto asked after a few drinks.

Y/N wasn’t drunk, but she sure did feel a little buzzed. Buzzed enough to move a little slower than usual, and blab and blab away, but not drunk.

“Well,” she drawled. “I lived on my planet without ever leaving it for all my life really until he showed up; like my knight in shining armor! He came through, let me join him to watch over the kid, and here we are!”

Motto giggled with her. “That’s it? C’mon you gotta have more than that. I can see how in love with you are with the man, though I honestly can’t see why. I mean the man can’t even take off his helmet!”

Y/N chuckled, taking a small sip of her drink. She looked next to her at the sleeping baby, smiling softly in thought.

“I know it’s kinda hard to believe,” she spoke finally, keeping the soft tune of the atmosphere. “But when you get to know him you’ll see why; he’s got such a big heart, even if he doesn’t show it right away. I’ve heard some stories of his past before, and he’s changed so much from the man he used to be. It’s a sight to see honestly.”

Motto listened to every word, seeing the Mandalorian now in a whole new light.

“And the kid?”

“That’s a complicated one,” Y/N sighed. “We don’t know much about it really. But I do know that there are a lot of bad people out there looking for him. And they want to do him harm, and we will stop at nothing until we make sure he’s safe.”

Peli smiled thoughtfully at her. “I think you two still have some things to learn about taking care of a child, but I also think you two do love him very much, and I know you will do your best with him.”

Y/N wanted to hug the woman and was about to until that arrogant voice disturbed their peace.

“Alright ladies,” he said, making them both jump; Y/N in a protective and defensive stance while Peli stood in confusion. His blaster was aimed at the Child, making Y/N’s heart do jumping jacks. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where is he?” Y/N demanded, jumping to the worst conclusion, her hand already coming to rest on her blaster. He caught on to this and smirked.

“You don’t have to worry about that sweetness, he’s coming,” Calican teased. “Now you ladies cooperate and do as I say, then the kid lives. Understand?”

Y/N and Peli had no choice but to nod. Calican quickly patted them both down - taking her weapons from her carefully, the gun never shaking in his grasp - and picked up the kid, who immediately started squirming in his grasp; Y/N had to clench her fists to prevent any altercations.

They waited just outside the Razor Crest for the Mandalorian. Y/N wished she hadn’t drank. She didn’t want to risk the Child’s life, especially when the gunslinger kept his eyes specifically on her, watching her every move with a careful eye. She could’ve cried in relief when she heard his voice, worried that the man was lying and was just pulling a sick game on them.

The Mandalorian checked over Y/N, who was only a few feet from him. Once he was satisfied she wasn’t injured, the helmet turned towards the man, who was now aiming his gun at him, the Child still in his arms.

“Mandalorian,” Calican finally said. “Nice to see you finally showed up. Heard all about your little spew with the Guild. Figured I’d finally get accepted when they find out I got the Mandalorian with the target. Maybe a bonus for the woman too.”

Din tensed at this, clutching the blaster in his fist.

“Now throw your blaster away and put your hands behind your head,” Calican ordered.

The Mandalorian obeyed, putting his hands up slowly as Calican handed Peli a pair of handcuffs. Y/N’s arms were getting tired from having them up, and she hoped Din was coming up with a plan just as she was. She saw Peli whisper something to him from behind, and then there was a whizzing sound before the sparks and smoke erupted. Y/N tried to move fast enough, she really did. But the gunslinger was faster in surprise, firing off a few shots. She felt the graze of one on her side, just below her ribs. She cried out, clutching her side with one hand and pulling it away to find dark red blood. She heard another shot, turning in time to see the gunslinger go down.

“Where is the little guy?” She heard Motto ask.

Y/N’s head started swimming, her vision going blurry as she searched for Din. She didn’t see nor hear him rushing towards her, calling out her name as he did.

“It’s just a graze,” she immediately said.

“Y/N, I need to see it,” Din panicked, gently pulling at the hand clutching at the shot. “Please!”

She let him remove her hand and heard him suck in a breath. It was deep, and she was already starting to lose blood. Din was happy that he had the helmet to conceal the tears already threatening to flow.

“Is she okay?” They heard Peli ask, the Child in her arms.

“She’s been hit. Badly. I need to get it treated.”

Din sat Y/N down at the end of the ramp, running into the ship to get their kit. There were a few around stashed around the ship for emergencies, Y/N’s doing of adding more. She tried focusing on her breathing and on calming the baby down, not wanting to scare it. He was reaching for her, babbling and squinting his eyes as he reached.

“I’m okay,” her voice was hoarse, but, to her surprise, it was incredibly steady.

“You are,” Motto confirmed. “We all know he ain’t gonna let you go that easily.”

If Y/N didn’t just get shot, she would have laughed at her attempt to lighten the mood. The Mandalorian came running back out, kneeling down in front of her and helping her gently move her shirt up, spraying becta spray onto the wound. It felt odd but pleasing all the same as it started to heal. He finished with a gel – she couldn’t tell what it was – and a gauze wrap.

“See? I’m alright.” Y/N tried assuring Din. She could sense his anger and disappointment eating at him, coaxing him into silence as he finished his work and stood up.

He took Calican’s pouch, handing it to her as they traded.

“Thank you.” He said.

Motto looked back at Y/N, who gave a tired thumbs up. “Yeah. It was no problem. Took longer because ‘no droids’. But it looks like everything worked out okay.”

The Mandalorian wanted to make a comment at that but refrained from doing so. Instead he nodded and went to help Y/N on her feet. She waved a goodbye to the kind woman before the ramp closed.

There was tension in the stagnant air, no doubt about that. He didn’t say a word to her as he sent the ship into hyperspace, the baby in his seat next to the pilots.

“You need to rest,” he finally said. His voice was hard, and she almost flinched at the tone; he had never used it with her.

She wanted to protest, but she was tired, and figured they would talk later once they all calmed down.

“Okay. You need to rest too though, Din.”

“I will.”

Silence. Y/N hated when they fought or had any small argument. She was always afraid that it’d be too much, too much for both of them; she had seen it happen many times beforehand on her home planet. She had faith in him, and knew that he was better than that, but just like him, the doubts and fears would start to eat her alive. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep right away, but as soon as her head hit the pillow she was out.

The Mandalorian let out a shaky sigh, finally breaking down. It wasn’t supposed to happen. She was never supposed to get hurt. He wasn’t stupid and neither was she, they knew the risks of her joining him and hell even being near the Child. But to see it happen, to know – or feel – that a part of it was his fault; it was absolutely killing him. He didn’t want to take his anger out on her, especially at her delicate state right now.

…

Y/N woke up feeling worn out but better. Her eyes woke up to a sleeping baby next to her, wrapped up in his blue blanket. She ran the tip of her pointer finger down his little nose and over the gray hair before quietly moving out of the cot, tip toeing as to not wake him up. She went into the refresher, running her hands down her face; the dark circles under her eyes were more prominent but it didn’t feel as it looked. Lifting her shirt up, she inspected the now healed shot, tracing the scar idly as she thought back to that moment. She washed up, checking on the baby before beginning her search for her Mandalorian. She eventually found him in the bottom, cleaning some of his weapons. His body was still just as tense as before.

His body visibly tensed when he heard her walking towards him. Y/N sighed at the sight, running her hand through her Y/H/C hair.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she started. Her voice was a little croaked but was strong with conviction. “I just didn’t move fast enough, that’s it, okay? Nothing to blame yourself over.”

“I think it’s time for you to go back home.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. She felt all color drain from her body, felt the air rush out of her as if she had just gotten punched in the gut. She thought the room was starting to spin as well, that her soul was leaving her body as to escape the harsh reality. This couldn’t be happening.

“W-what?” She stuttered, voice already shaking. “Why? Why would I do that?”

She could see him clench his fist, hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.

“Because this is beginning to be too much. I’m sorry, Y/N. I take full credit and blame for… for everything.”

She started to shake her head at him, anger now building up in her.

“No,” she growled. “No you can’t do this to me. You can’t after… after everything we’ve been through! You can’t just make it out like everything is practically perfect between us and then just throw me away when something goes wrong! It’s not right!”

She couldn’t stop, tears building up behind her throat. “It was just one guy, one mistake and we’re fine.”

He huffed out a dry chuckle, slamming his weapon down on the table but aggressively turning around.

“I’m the one who trusted the man, even when you didn’t. I should’ve listened to you and I didn’t and it could’ve costed your life.”

“It was just a graze -.”

“- I let you leave your home when I should’ve told you to stay, find someone better for you that wouldn’t put your life in constant danger. How else am I supposed to feel?”

“It could happen anytime, Din. And I knew that before stepping foot into your ship. I knew it when I always dreamed about leaving and traveling. That’s just life! And I have never been more alive since I’ve met you, and nothing, and I do mean nothing, would ever change my mind.”

Din stood up then, towering over her fuming. “It’s not enough. It’s not enough because I can’t live without you. Don’t you see that? Yesterday it was a graze, but if what if next time it’s shot to the head, or a knife in the heart? I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt or worse. Of having to explain to the baby on why you’re not with us anymore. I’m-.”

He was finally breaking down, unable to hold it in any longer. Y/N was clinging to every word, mouth agape and tears gathering behind her eyes.

“I’m not ready to lose you,” he finally whispered. The modulator was known for its craft of concealing his voice, but this, this was so much. She could hear and feel the emotions rolling off him, each pressing second revealing carefully hidden revelations.

She hugged him, and despite all the armor he wore on his person, she could feel him trembling in her arms, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I know,” she said, trying to control her quivering voice. “Trust me Din, I feel the exact same way about you. And I understand why you’re scared and angry, I would be too. It was a close call but-,”

She placed his hand on her chest, his gloved hand resting over her beating heart. “I’m still here. Alive. We have that now, we have another day. And yeah, any day could be our last together, but I’m not leaving without a fight. You’re stuck with me,” she tried to tease lightly, to ease some of the pressure and anxiety off his shoulders.

After a moment he unwrapped himself from her and grabbed her hand, leading her into another small quarter with a smaller cot, but it was good enough; they didn’t need the space. He turned off the lights as he led her to the cot, Y/N only being able to see his shadowy figure; she started to breathe heavily from all of the overwhelming emotions hitting her all at once. She suspected the same thing was happening to him based on his sporadic movements as he started at his armor.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered gruffly. A pool of arousal flooded between her legs at the command and immediately got to work.

Din pounced on her as soon as he was undressed – it was the fastest she had ever seen him unclothe – she had barely taken off her pants before he attacked her lips with his, teeth clashing as he used his body to push her downs. She could already feel his hard length rub against her stomach, a bead of pre- cum trailing up and down her stomach as he did so. She moaned into the kiss and gasped when he practically ripped the rest of her clothes off, allowing him to ease his tongue to dance with hers. His lips traveled down her neck, biting down harshly at her sweet spot, causing Y/N to moan loudly and arch her back into him. He groaned as he moved down, biting down at her chest as well and her breasts; he took her nipple into her mouth, nipping gently at it as she ran her fingers through his soft, wavy hair. He kissed all the way down to her dripping and aching heat.

“Please,” Y/N begged sweetly, breathlessly. “That can wait until later. I need you now.”

Normally the Mandalorian would argue, but he was eager to obey, chasing her lips and wrapping her up in his arms tightly.

Y/N could feel every emotion and message through every kiss, every touch on her skin. Soft kisses that said I cherish you. Longing kisses that said I missed you, I will always miss you. Heated kisses that said I need you I want you. It was easy for her to abandoned herself to the kisses, the meanings behind them. She clung onto his back as he slid easily into her, him gasping into her mouth as she struggled to keep her eyes open, staring into the dark figure.

I love you I love you I love you.

Din didn’t need to tell her, she felt it with every shift of his hips, with every kiss he laid on her. With the way he held her, as if he was afraid she was going to disappear. The way he seemed to be struggling to keep his composure, forehead refusing to leave hers as their breaths intertwined. His body was shaking with all the overwhelming senses, and she thought herself she was going to implode from his love; it was as hot as fire, as soft as feathers, as sweet as dessert.

“I love you,” Y/N groaned into his ear. “Stars I love you, Din. So much.”

She was close to tears from her admission and from the pleasure itself. She felt him shudder at her declaration and pushed into her faster, Y/N unable to keep her noises of pleasure at bay. His hand – which was sure to leave a bruise on her hip – travelled down to her thigh to hike her leg up higher around his waist, allowing him to hit at a deeper spot, making her see white behind her lids.

“Oh!” She gasped as he went harder, his grunts bringing her closer and closer to her release.

A hand wrapped itself tightly in her hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to reign himself in as he, too, was getting closer.

“One day I’ll tell you everything,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll tell you fucking everything. I’ll tell you how you’re the fucking best thing that has ever happened to me. How you’re too good for this world, about how you deserve – shit – the entire world. I’ll tell you about how badly I want to show you everything I am, to take off my helmet and be done with the creed. How it eats me up when I can’t give you everything you fucking deserve.”

She didn’t want him to stop, his words only fueling her love and desire for him. He brought his hand down between them, rubbing her clit. She let out a chocked gasp, nails racking down his hardened back.

“I’ll tell you all of this and more more thoroughly, on a day when there’s no danger, no monsters around. When you can finally see me. When my heart won’t play hide and seek with yours. I have to believe that we can have that because you believe it. I will never stop fighting for you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Gods this was too much. Her velvety walls clenched around his cock, stuttering around it as they both moaned through their releases. He didn’t make any moves of disconnecting his body from hers and she was content with that. She rubbed her hand up and down his sweaty back as they caught their breaths, their chests moving up and down in sync. Tears did then fall from her eyes, but they were happy ones.

Finally Din moved his head from the crook of her neck, cupping her cheek and kissed her. His lips were slightly chapped still but softer this time. She made a noise of discomfort when he slowly pulled out of her, him giving her thigh an apologetic tap as he went to gather a wet cloth to clean them up with. She was expecting him to get dressed after, but instead he laid down next to her, pulling her body into his, arms wrapped around each other with the tips of their noses pressed together.

Y/N still couldn’t see his face in the dark room, but she felt as though she had already seen all of him. She didn’t need to see his face to love him, to know that their love was real and true. She smiled at the thought and buried her head in his chest as she slowly fell back asleep to his hand running through her hair.

Tags: @momc95, @treehousemagicblog, @riverquartzuniverse, @beepbeepyabitch, @smol-flower-kiddo, @harps-for-days, @teenagedirtbagg2, @goththespian

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagines #star wars #disney plus #pedro pascal #the child #baby yoda #peli motto #din djarin smut

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hiscyarika · 5 years ago

Text

Kir’manir: Chapter Three

Ruusaanyc

adj. reliable, trustworthy

Word Count: 10.5k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian receives a transmission from Greef Karga requesting that he return to Nevarro to dispose of the client.

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: Happy Star Wars Day! Here’s part three (settle in, it’s a long one)! I decided to go ahead and write Cara out, instead having Reader take her place (please don’t hate me). Also please don’t get used to these horribly long chapters. Chapter Four will be about the same length, but then after I run out of canon content to follow, the chapters will be much shorter. Thank you all for reading and for your kind words! I appreciate you all more than you know!

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Chapter One: Beroya, Chapter Two: Narudar

As the Mandalorian jumps into hyperspace, an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. He looks down at the controls, unscrewing the silver top of the gearshift, then turns to the child, who seems completely unaffected by what had just happened with Mayfeld and the other mercenaries. “I told you that was a bad idea,” he says, giving the baby the little metal ball, earning him a soft coo in response.

He leans back in his seat then, closing his eyes for a few minutes as the Crest rides through hyperspace. Once again he’s reminded that you would have been rather useful to have around. It had taken him one look at the team he’d been assigned to, and instantly he’d known that things weren’t going to work out as cleanly and smoothly as he had been told. And he’d been right. He’d gotten out alright, and so had the kid, but if you’d been around, well, that would have been at least one person he knew he could trust unconditionally.

It’s laughable, really, and he finds himself almost chuckling to himself. He’s sure that you haven’t had a second thought about him since he left you on Tatooine. By now, you’ve probably got your own ship, free to roam the galaxy again. He’ll never see you again. He’s certain about that.

By the time the ship exits hyperspace, the kid is asleep. Mando sits up again, going through the catalog to find another planet to land on for a while. As he moves, he bumps into something, because suddenly the holovid comes to life. It’s a transmission from Greef Karga.

“My friend, if you are receiving this transmission that means you are alive. You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. So here is my proposition. Return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange, and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.”

He flips the switch to turn off the transmission. It’s a risk. Returning to Nevarro with such a high density of Imperials, along with the angry Guild hunters he had betrayed: there are far too many ways that something could go wrong. None of it would be worth anything if he or the kid ended up dead. He turns, looking at where the child sleeps peacefully in his makeshift bed.

If everything goes right, he’d never have to worry about someone coming to hurt the baby again. He could go back to working for the Guild while trying to figure out where the kid belonged. It would be so much easier than the constant running that they’re doing now.

He’s made up his mind, and quickly calculates the next hyperspace jump. They’re going back to Nevarro.

But first, a visit to Tatooine.

---

You groan as the heat of the binary suns blasts down on your back as you work, fixing an old freighter after an engine had been damaged. Rather than booking passage with someone passing through the system, you had opted to start working for Peli instead, helping her with smaller repairs and upkeep. It didn’t pay much but it was enough for you to support yourself while slowly building up the funds that you had. After Mando had left, it seemed much safer to leave on your own, where you were sure that you couldn’t be turned into the Guild for the hunters that you had killed on Sorgan. It’s less than ideal. You haven’t grown any fonder of Tatooine since the day you arrived, but you know things could be worse.

After hammering the last part into place, you close the port, wiping the grime from your hands with the cloth you keep at your side. You then return to Peli’s storage area, putting all of the tools back in their places. As far as you know, there aren’t any other ships in the starport that currently need attention, meaning that you’ll probably spend the rest of the day tuning up the pit droids.

“We’ve got one coming into bay three-five,” Peli says through the comlink you keep in your ear during the day. You sigh and shake your head. At least working with the droids keeps you out of the heat.

“What’s the damage?,” you ask her, wondering just how complicated the repairs are going to be. You’re not a professional like Peli by any means, but in the last couple of weeks you’ve at least managed to gain more knowledge than you started with. Hopefully it saves you time and credits in the long run.

Peli’s answer is drowned out by the deafening sound of the ship landing. You stand just outside of the hangar, not able to see what kind of ship it is or what condition it's in. When you walk through the doorway though, you gasp slightly at what you see. It’s the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian is back.

At first glance, there seems to be nothing wrong with the ship. You feel your heart begin to beat a little faster in your chest, not sure why he would have come back. Your first thought is that something happened to the little one. It’s a thought that you can barely stomach, and you shake your head to yourself, standing and waiting for the loading ramp to come down. When it does, you can hear the heavy footsteps of the Mandalorian, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you see the little creature in his arms.

You take a few steps forward, meeting them in the middle of the space that separates you, and you smile when you see the child’s eyes light up and his little arms reach for you as he laughs. He clambers out of the Mandalorian’s arms and into yours as soon as you’re close enough.

“Well hi there, little guy,” you say, holding him in one arm. The other you extend at an angle to the Mandalorian. He does the same, each of you clasping the other’s hand as a form of greeting.

“What are you two doing back here? Did you miss me that badly, Mando?,” you tease with a grin, releasing his hand and wrapping your arm around the child, who coos and chitters up at you.

“I have a job for you.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your head tilts slightly to the side. “A job? What kind of job?,” you ask, your expression losing the playfulness it held just seconds ago. This makes no sense to you. Why would he come back for you? Just because you’d done one job together didn’t make you lifelong partners now. That’s the one thing that you understand most about the Mandalorian. You share the preference of working in solitude. Whatever this is has to be dire.

“I received a transmission from Greef Karga,” he begins to explain, though it by no means clarifies his reasoning for coming to you. By now, you’re likely just as wanted by the Guild as he is. The trandoshan that escaped Sorgan would have made sure of that.

He must see the apprehension in your eyes. “I know that sounds stupid, but hear me out,” he says. “The client, the one that paid me to bring the child in, he’s still on Nevarro. He’s got the place crawling with Imps, and it’s making it hard for the Guild to operate. Karga wants me to take him out and bring the child as bait.”

“Absolutely not,” you interject quickly, shaking your head and unconsciously holding the little one closer to you. You know what they want with him. You won’t let anyone harm the baby if you can help it. You’re not stupid enough to trust Greef Karga.

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “That’s why I’m here. I know you won’t let anything happen to him. And he’ll be safe once the client is dead,” he says. “I’ll bring you to Nevarro and make sure you have your own ship when this is over. And both our names will be cleared with the Guild. You can go on like none of this ever happened,” he tells you.

You take a deep breath, your brain running through all of the things that could go wrong, but you know that the Mandalorian is right. This could be the kid’s ticket to freedom and safety. You look down at the little one, watching as his ears perk up. All it takes is one look in his big brown eyes. You know what you have to do. And it doesn’t have anything to do with your own freedom. You look back at the Mandalorian, your jaw set in determination.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

---

Once you’ve left the atmosphere of Tatooine, you lean back in your seat, sighing softly in relief. Finally you can breathe without inhaling dust and sand and you’re not soaked in your own sweat.

“You really hated that place, didn’t you?,” Mando asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Is it that obvious?.” You laugh, “What made you think I’d still be there?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t expect you to be. I figured you’d be long gone the first chance you got. It was just a chance I was willing to take,” he replies.

A thought strikes you then. “Greef Karga has no idea that I’m coming, does he?”

“No.”

“Well that could be an issue, don’t you think?,” you question. Before, he’d made it sound like your joining had already been discussed. Now it’s clear that this might not go as smoothly as you’d originally thought.

“It won’t be. And if it is, that’s his problem,” Mando tells you, standing from his seat and heading down into the hull. You follow after him, glancing at the child for a moment to check on him before you go down the ladder. The Mandalorian seems confident, but you’re not so sure.

You lean against the wall, watching as he opens the weapons vault. “You realize that this could be one grand scheme to take both of you down, right? And if it is I’m sure he won’t hesitate to put me in cuffs too.” The prospect of freeing the child is still worth the risk, but you want to be sure to minimize the chance of being taken by surprise. Greef Karga isn’t known for his integrity.

He sighs in exasperation. “Relax. I don’t trust him any more than you do. We’ll be gone the minute something goes wrong.”

You know he can’t guarantee that, as much as you wish he could. “I’m just saying that we need to operate like this is a trap,” you tell him.

“Believe me, I know. I haven’t gone through this much trouble to keep the kid safe just to ruin it all now,” he replies, turning to face you. You nod in understanding, letting out a soft breath.

Before you can say anything else, you heard a loud knocking coming from the ship. It begins to veer sharply from side to side, and the force sends you colliding with the Mandalorian, your hands pressed to his cuirass. But you don’t have time to think about the severe lack of space between you or the way that his arm comes around your waist to steady you. You grab onto the ladder, freeing him so that he can make it up to the cockpit, and then follow after him, hanging on to the back of your seat to stay upright.

You curse under your breath when you see the child playing around with the controls, clearly amused with his own work. He laughs even as the Mandalorian shoves him into your arms. You take your seat, keeping the child secure in your arms until Mando finally rights the ship again.

“Troublemaker,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes slightly as you look down at the kid, your breath coming in soft pants. He just giggles and brings his little clawed hands up to touch your face. You shake your head, unable to help the grin that comes to your lips then. “We gotta find someone to watch you,” you say.

“You’ve got that right,” Mando agrees, and as you look you can see that he’s changing the set coordinates.

“Where are we going?,” you ask.

“Arvala-7,” he answers.

Now your interest is piqued. “What? But that’s…that’s where the kid was when you found him. Who is there that you trust?,” you question.

The Mandalorian turns to face you. “There was an ugnaught that guided me to the child, and he helped me repair the ship after it was stripped by Jawas. He won’t let any harm come to the kid,” he explains. You nod, relieved that there is at least one other person in the galaxy that can be trusted. It gives you more hope that the two of you might be able to pull this off, and then everything that’s happened in the last few weeks can become a distant memory.

“To Arvala-7 then,” you say, gently placing the child back in his chair.

---

When he lands the Crest next to Kuiil’s moisture farm, the Mandalorian lets out a soft sigh, standing from the pilot’s seat and picking up the child in his crate. He nods his head for you to go first, and once you’re down the ladder, he reaches down to hand you the container. With the press of a button on his vambrace, the container begins to float at his side, and he walks with you down the ramp and towards the ugnaught. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, having to contain a laugh at the less-than-pleased look on your face as you survey the surroundings. You’ve traded one arid planet for another, though at least you won’t be on Arvala-7 for long.

The ugnaught meets the three of you at the door, and the Mandalorian ducks and follows him into the small hut, the container behind him and you after. He stands up straight again once he’s inside letting the container sit on top of a box against the wall. You settle near the child, and he smiles under the helmet as he watches you reach out to stroke the baby’s ear, earning a soft hum from the creature.

The ugnaught grabs the child’s attention as he walks closer, and the little one reaches an arm out. “It hasn’t grown much,” the ugnaught says.

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast,” the Mandalorian answers, coming to stand next to you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” explains the ugnaught, standing from where he was crouched in front of the child. He then turns to you. “This one, on the other hand, she looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora.”

You smile at the comment, and he listens as you introduce yourself to the ugnaught. When you say your name, the Mandalorian makes the discovery that he’s never actually heard it before. He doesn’t have to wonder why. He remembers well the day you’d asked his name and his refusal to give it to you. It was only fair, he knows, that he never demanded yours. But to hear it now, he can’t help but think that it suits you. It’s elegant enough, but also has an edge to it that could strike fear into the heart of any man.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” you explain further. “I was supposed to bring in the child after the tracking fob reactivated, but I couldn’t make myself go through with it. The man who hired us never told us it was a child.” A look of disgust crosses your face.

“I see,” the ugnaught says, nodding. “It’s good to know that morality still exists in the galaxy. The Mandalorian would be wise not to take someone like you for granted.”

He doesn’t fail to catch the pointed look that the ugnaught gives him.

But the warm moment doesn’t last much longer. He feels the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand straight up when he hears a familiar mechanical movement. His blaster is loaded and pointed at the IG unit as it steps into the hut, bearing a few cups of tea. You’re up just as fast as he is, your weapon drawn as well as you step in front of the child.

“Would anyone care for some tea?,” the droid asks.

The ugnaught steps in front of both of you, his hands held up to stop you from shooting at the droids. “Please, lower your blasters. He will not harm you.” But the Mandalorian doesn’t relent and neither do you. He doesn’t even take his eyes off of the droid.

“That thing is programmed to kill the baby,” The Mandalorian grits out. He’s never trusted droids before. He won’t start now.

“Not anymore,” the ugnaught counters. He then listens as the ugnaught tells you both how he recovered the droid and reprogrammed its neural workings. While it might have been comforting to anyone else to hear that the droid had been retaught everything that it knew, the Mandalorian was still not convinced. He couldn’t believe that when he knew that the nature of the droid was to be a bounty hunter.

“Is it still a hunter?,” he asks apprehensively.

“No. But it will protect,” the ugnaught assures him.

He lowers his blaster, and only then do you do so as well. He stares at the droid for a few moments, studying it, and he shrinks back as it offers him a cup of tea. You take it instead, seeming to be much more soothed by the ugnaught’s story than he is.

“I must go tend to the blurrgs,” the ugnaught says. The Mandalorian nods, turning to you as you’re all left in the hut alone with the droid.

“Stay here with the kid. Don’t let the droid touch him,” he says.

“I won’t,” you answer, and though he can hear the questioning in your tone, he doesn’t indulge you with an answer. Instead, he ducks out of the hut, finding the ugnaught standing outside of the pen he keeps the creatures in.

“I’ve run into some problems,” the Mandalorian starts softly. The ugnaught has done so much for him already. He deserves to rest in peace, not be dragged back into this chaos, but he knows that he has no other choice than to ask.

The ugnaught does not look up from where he strokes the snout of one of the blurrgs. “I figured as much. Why else would you return?,” he says.

“I wanna hire your services.”

His answer is simple, but somehow not quite final. “I’m retired from service.”

“I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught,” the Mandalorian tries, though he knows already that money is not something that will change the ugnaught’s mind. It didn’t before.

“I have a name. It is Kuiil,” he says.

The Mandalorian nods. That’s two names he’s learned tonight. “I need someone to protect the little one, Kuiil,” he replies.

“I’m not suited for such work. I can reprogram IG-11 for nursing and protocol,” Kuiil offers.

“No. I don’t want that droid anywhere near him,” he refuses, unable to help from raising his voice as he speaks. He still can’t bring himself to trust the droid, even if everyone else around him has given in to the idea that the droid will not revert back to his factory settings.

Kuiil finally looks up at him then, a curious look in his eyes as he studies the Mandalorian. “Why are you so distrustful of droids?,” he inquires. But it’s not a question that he really wants to answer in depth. It goes back much further than what happened with the IG unit.

“It tried to kill him,” he says, giving the simple answer

Kuiil shakes his head. “It was programmed to do so. Droids are not good or bad. They are neutral reflections of those who imprint them,” he says. His words are wise and true. The Mandalorian knows this, but as true as he knows the words to be, he cannot internalize them.

“I’ve seen otherwise,” he counters.

“Do you trust me?,” Kuiil asks, and the Mandalorian can already see where the ugnaught is going with this question, but he humors him anyway.

He gives a slight nod. “From what I can tell, yes,” he replies.

“Then you will trust my work. IG-11 will join me, and we do it not for payment, but to protect the child from Imperial slavery. None will be free until the old ways are gone. Forever,” Kuiil says. These words are final. The Mandalorian knows that he cannot argue with them. As much as he doesn’t like the idea of the droid being around the baby, he knows that he needs Kuiil. Having the ugnaught around is more important than his need to keep the droid away.

“Okay,” he relents softly.

“The blurrgs will join me as well.”

“The blurrgs?,” he asks, puzzled.

“I have spoken.”

The Mandalorian has to hold back a laugh at the words. These arguments always seem to end this way, but he’s thankful for Kuiil for more reasons than he can count now. If his only requests are that the droid and the blurrgs join, then he’ll honor those requests without further argument.

---

You sit on top of a crate in the hull of the Crest, your elbow on the table in front of you and your hand locked with the Mandalorian’s as you both try to best each other with your strength. Your eyes stare deep into the visor of the helmet, your gaze like stone as you try to find any hint that he might be giving up.

“I’ve got you beat, Mandalorian. Give it up,” you say, gaining just a bit.

He grunts with the effort of trying to keep his arm upright. “Care to double the bet?,” he taunts, moving your arm back so that you’re upright again, completely in a stalemate with each other.

“So confi–” You’re cut off when you feel a strange sensation all over your body. You let go of the Mandalorian, trying to figure out what it is that might be making you feel this way, but as soon as you lose physical contact with each other, you’re both flying backwards against the walls of the ship.

The crate you sit on topples over at the impact, leaving you in a heap on the floor. Your hand goes to the back of your head, which throbs from hitting the wall. You look over to see that the Mandalorian is in no better shape. But then your eyes catch sight of the child, whose eyes are narrowed as he looks back and forth between the two of you, his arms reaching out like he’s the one that separated you with such force.

The Mandalorian follows your gaze, and he pulls himself up from the floor when he realizes what’s happening. “No, stop! We’re not hurting each other! It’s just a game!,” he says, picking the child up out of his crate. At this, the strange feeling leaves you immediately, but you can’t bring yourself to move. You have no idea what just happened.

“Wait…he….how?,” you ask, watching as the child is handed over to Kuiil for a moment. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to understand how the child was able to do something like that. But you’ve never seen anything like it in your life.

“Look,” the Mandalorian says, walking over to you and helping you up from the ground. He keeps a gentle arm on your shoulder as he looks to the baby. “See? I’m not trying to hurt her. It’s alright,” he reassures the baby. At this, the child’s eyes soften again and his ears perk up a bit. He seems satisfied by what Mando tells him.

He releases you then, the visor looking down into your eyes. “Are you okay?,” he asks softly.

“Yeah. I think so. But what just happened?,” you question.

“The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense,” Kuiil tells Mando. You stand there in silence, not sure what it is that they’re talking about.

“What is it?,” Mando asks.

Kuiil shakes his head. “What it is, I don’t know. But what it does, this...this I’ve heard rumors of. In my days with the Empire,” he says. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and your body tenses slightly at this revelation.

“You worked for the Empire?,” you ask, finding that you trust the ugnaught a little less now. Why the Mandalorian would trust an ex-Imperial to help take down an Imperial officer is beyond you.

“I was sold to the Empire, my dear. An indentured servant, but I am proud to say that I bought my clan’s freedom with the skill of my hands,” he tells you, and you suddenly feel foolish for jumping to such a conclusion about the ugnaught.

You nod slightly. “I understand.”

“Speaking of which, I could really use your craft work right now. Can you pad this container so that the child can sleep better?,” the Mandalorian asks, laying the child back down in his makeshift bed.

The ugnaught walks over, placing a gentle hand on the baby. “I shall fabricate a better one,” he declares.

As Mando shows Kuiil where all the tools are, you make your way back up to the cockpit, taking a seat and trying to process everything that just happened. You can’t really wrap your head around the fact that the child had thrown you and Mando both across the ship just with the power of his mind. This changes your understanding of the situation. Before, you hadn’t understood what was so important about the baby that made the client want him so badly. Now it all makes sense.

You sit up a little straighter as Mando finally joins you. He’s quiet until he takes his seat. “Are you sure you’re alright? You hit your head,” he says, the pilot’s chair swiveling around so that he can face you.

You nod slightly. “Yeah. I’ve had far worse, you know?,” you joke half-heartedly. “I guess the kid just didn’t want to see us fight,” you say with a shrug.

The Mandalorian sighs. “I guess…,” he breathes.

“What does the client want with him?,” you ask, “It has to have something to do with his power.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. He had another man with him when I brought the kid in. They were doing some kind of testing on him, but I don’t know what for. I have no idea how he can do that. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he tells you.

“There has to be more going on,” you reply. “This has to be more than just one officer, Mando. We need to be ready.” Something deep in your gut tells you that you’re in over your head. Whatever you’re about to walk into on Nevarro isn’t going to be as simple as killing a few stormtroopers and taking out the officer. What exactly is going to happen, you don’t know, and that scares you more than you’ll ever admit to the Mandalorian.

“Maybe. We’ll find out more when we land,” he tells you, turning back to the controls.

You turn around when you hear the door open and the mechanical movements of the IG unit, watching as he comes to stand in the doorway of the cockpit. “I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?,” the droid asks, it’s hand mechanisms clasped together as it looks between you and Mando.

Mando turns around looking at the droid for just a short moment before he turns away again. “I’m not hungry,” he says.

“I’ll eat later, IG. Thank you,” you reply softly, looking out the viewport of the ship as the droid heads back down into the hull with Kuiil and the child.

“Under no circumstances does that thing leave the ship,” Mando says harshly, his entire body tense and unmoving.

You shake your head. “Why are you so hostile? Kuiil practically rebuilt the thing,” you retort, not sure why he’s so against the droid’s presence when clearly it means no harm to anyone. You know from past experience that pressing him probably isn’t the greatest idea, but you don’t have it in you to care so much at the moment.

“That droid was designed to kill things. I don’t care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature,” he tells you, the chair turning quickly as he looks at you. You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s angry now. It’s all in the way his shoulders are set and the way his head tilts as he speaks to you. It’s in your best interest to let the subject go, so you stand from your chair, shaking your head.

The door of the cockpit as you approach it, but before you go down the ladder, you turn to look at the Mandalorian once more, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the viewport. “You know, not trusting anyone will get you killed faster than letting go of your fear,” you tell him. You join Kuiil, the child, and IG-11 in the hull, leaving the Mandalorian to brood alone.

---

Greef Karga is waiting when the Razor Crest lands on Nevarro, with three hunters of his own standing around him. It gives you the slightest bit of satisfaction that the man clearly fears the Mandalorian. Just as he should.

You ride one of the three blurrgs out of the ship, following behind Mando and Kuiil. The three of you ride at each other’s side as you approach Karga and the other hunters, with the child in his closed pod between you and Mando. It brings you just a bit of peace to have the baby close to you, where you can get to him faster if this all ends as badly as you think it will.

With just a few feet between you and Greef Karga, you pull on the reins to stop the blurrg, your facial expression impassive as you stare down the Guild agent and his minions. One of them is a trandoshan, but to your relief it isn’t Daask. “Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando,” Karga says, placing his hands on his hips as he looks back and forth between you and Kuiil. You watch as the look in his eyes changes as he meets yours. He knows who you are. “But things have gotten complicated since you were last here. It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we’ve both provided a security detail. Or have you brought this traitor as a peace offering?”

He points to you as he speaks, and you clench your jaw as you look down at him, not giving him the satisfaction of thinking that you feel threatened by him. You know you could end him before either of the other three hunters had a chance to draw their weapons. He’s no threat to you.

“She’s coming with me, and you’ll have her name cleared with the Guild when this is over,” the Mandalorian says evenly. His tone leaves no room for argument, but somehow Karga has the gall to open his mouth regardless.

“She killed two of my best men. I’ve started distributing pucks at the request of the trandoshan that escaped her. Why not take the bounty that’s been put on her head?,” he presses.

You feel your blood begin to boil at the mention of Daask. You’re surprised that he’s not among the hunters that Greef has with him. “You can be next on my list if you’d like. I’d be happy to arrange it,” you reply, venom dripping with every word. It would bring you great joy to see such a piece of scum dead at your own hands. You inch the blurrg forward, and the hunters draw their weapons.

“Enough. She’s coming. And she’ll be unharmed and pardoned. Do I make myself clear?,” the Mandalorian says. Greef locks his gaze with the helmet, his lips pressed in a thin line, but then he waves off his hunters.

“Fine,” he relents, shaking his head and holding his hands out in mock surrender. “Fine.” You can’t help the smug grin that comes to your lips at his blatant displeasure.

“So, where is the little one?,” he asks. In unison, you and Kuiil both turn to Mando, your expression grim again as you wait for his next move. The idea of even opening the floating pram makes the hair on your arms stand up. You won’t have anything happening to the baby.

Your whole body tenses as Mando moves the pram towards Greef, opening it once it’s in front of him. A hand instinctively goes to your blaster, ready to draw it and fire if the man so much as looks at the little one the wrong way. You practically stop breathing as he picks the child up out of his pod, but out of the corner of your eye you see that Mando is just as ready to attack as you are.

“So, this little bogwig is what the fuss is all about. What a precious little creature,” Greef says. One of the other hunters brandishes his spear when he notices how on edge you and the Mandalorian are, and the motion has you ready to spring into action. “I can see why you didn’t want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head. Well, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all,” Greef continues, and he finally puts the baby back in his pod. The Mandalorian relaxes, but you don’t. You won’t be able to until the pod is closed and the child is back at your side.

“Bring him back,” you mutter. Mando presses a few buttons on his vambrace. The pod hisses as it shuts, and then it floats back to its original place between you and Mando. You let out a breath, finally releasing your hold on your blaster.

“The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light,” Karga suggests.

The Mandalorian nods, urging his blurrg forward. You do the same, and with the others you form a triangle around the child’s pod. Karga and his hunters lead the way through the rocky terrain and then the lava flats. The landscape is desolate. Care must be taken with every step. But you watch Greef Karga just as closely as you watch the ground beneath you. No display of his will convince you that his intentions are pure, not until the client is dead. And even then, knowing for certain that there’s a bounty on your head now, you may not trust him even then.

When the sun sets, you stop to make camp. You unload supplies from the bag strapped to your blurrg, making a place for yourself near the fire. Mando settles nearby, keeping the child between you. You decide to stay where you are, watching as Greef and his hunters set up a spit over the flames and roast some unfortunate creature that will soon be your dinner.

You allow yourself to take a deep breath and relax just slightly. You know the child is safe sitting between you and Mando. You lie back against the pack that you’d brought with you. It’s far from comfortable but it’ll do for the night. When dinner is served you sit quietly, keeping an eye on the three other hunters as Kuiil feeds the baby.

“I guess the little bugger’s a carnivore. Never seen anything like it,” Greef muses, not far from your other side. You turn to look at him, hearing the child’s happy babbling. “They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.” He chuckles then, turning away from the child and looking back at the fire.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” you say, tired of hearing the man’s nonstop commentary. You swear you’ve never heard anyone talk as much as Greef Karga does, though maybe it’s just a product of being around the Mandalorian, who never says half as many words. Perhaps you’ve gotten used to the comfortable silence, begun to prefer it.

Greef nods. “Mando and I enter the common house. We show the client the bait,” he pauses to point at the child, which makes you turn to the Mandalorian in question. Surely he can’t be any more comfortable than you are with having the child that close to the man that would rather be running tests on the poor thing in a lab.

“We join him at the table, then Mando kills him,” Greef finishes.

“Tell me about his reinforcements,” Mando says, offering no answer for your silent inquiry.

Greef exhales softly. “They’re all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, they’ll all scatter.”

“And what if they don’t?,” you ask flatly, turning your gaze to the flames as they glow and crackle in the dark.

“They will,” he insists.

“That’s not good enough,” Mando presses sternly.

He turns to the Mandalorian again. “If, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path to alternative employment and they elect to...react impulsively, then these three fine Guild hunters and your accomplice will cut down anyone who bucks,” he says.

“How many will there be?,” Mando asks.

Greef sighs, “No more than four.” He pushes himself off of the ground then, and you watch him closely as he moves towards the fire for another helping of meat. “He travels with, at most, a fire team. Trust me. Nothing can go wrong,” he says. You can barely contain a scoff at the words.

A high pitched screech comes from the dark, and a winged creature swoops down to take the meat from Greef’s hands. You’re on your feet immediately, picking up the heavy repeating blaster that you’d brought along in case you were overwhelmed with the stormtroopers. After stepping in front of the child’s pod, you aim in the direction that the creature had come from, firing at it.

In the shallowest part of your awareness, you hear the child whimper, but it’s followed by the sound of the pram shutting. You allow yourself to take just a step away, firing at the winged beast. It doesn’t take long to realize that even with multiple weapons being fired, the group’s efforts aren’t driving it away.

It swoops down and picks up one of the blurrgs. You turn and shoot at it as Kuiil demands that the creature let go. The Mandalorian joins your effort, but the beast flies away with the blurrg secured in its talons. You let out a breath and lower the heavy blaster for a moment. It’s unfortunate that a blurrg was lost, but hopefully the creature will stay away.

Another screech sounds, and this time the trandoshan hunter is carried away. It’s gone before you can lift the blaster again. But you’re able to fire at the next one that tries to take another blurrg. To your relief, it falls dead, though on top of the blurrg. Your head is spinning with so many attacks on multiple fronts, and try as you might you can’t see far in the pitch darkness. The fire is the only source of light, and even then it doesn’t help much.

You hear the Mandalorian struggling, and you curse under your breath when you see him pinned to the ground by another beast. You shoot at it, careful not to hit Mando. He’s able to get to his feet, and he points his flamethrower at his attacker, fending it off quickly. You don’t stop your own attack, until finally the last of them fly away from the camp. Your chest is heaving with your labored breaths, but you don’t let your guard down yet.

The Mandalorian stands again, rushing over to where the pod still sits shut where it was left. You and Kuiil join him. You keep your back to the pram, your blaster raised and aimed at the sky should more of the creatures attack. But it’s quiet. They seem to have retreated fully.

You finally lower the blaster, placing it near your pack. You turn as Mando opens the pod, and while the child looks a little shaken, he appears unharmed.

It’s then that Greef’s strained cries of pain meet your ears, and you realize that the initial attack left him wounded. As Kuiil rushes over to assess the damage, you rifle through your pack, finding the medkit that you’d brought along with you. You take it over to the injured man, immediately crouching down and beginning your ministrations despite his insistence that he’s fine.

You first inject him with a numbing agent, hoping to at least assuage the pain a little. As you look down at the wound, however, you can see the angry black lines coming away from it. The creature’s bite, you find, is venomous.

“How bad?,” you hear Mando ask from behind you. It startles you slightly. In your rush to treat Greef you hadn’t heard him walk over.

You take out a gauze pad, your only ability being to stop the bleeding. You have no antidote for the venom. At the very least, he’ll lose an arm. “Bad,” you answer, “The venom is spreading fast and I don’t have a way to treat it.” You look down, finding the gauze pad soaked in blood, and as you dig through the medkit you find that there are no more inside.

Greef takes in a shaky breath. “So this… This is how it happens…,” he manages.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I need another medkit! Does anyone have another medkit?!,” you call, looking back at the two remaining hunters. When they shake their heads, you roll your eyes. “It’s a wonder none of you are dead yet.”

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Greef muses, his words ending in a sharp cough. You take out your scanner, running it along his arm to see how far the venom has spread.

“It’s still spreading,” you announce, tossing the scanner aside, “This isn’t working.” You catch movement in your peripheral vision, and you turn just slightly to see the child standing beside you, his eyes wide and curious as he looks at the wound. “Mando, get the kid out of here,” you command.

“Wait,” Kuiil murmurs, looking down at the baby.

You find that the child has reached out for Greef, laying his tiny hand over the wound. “He’s trying to eat me!,” Greef cries. You pay him no mind. You’re too amazed by what you see.

The little one’s eyes narrow in concentration, and before your very eyes you see the wound begin to close. Within just a few seconds, any trace of the injury is gone. The child pulls his hand back, falling on his behind. His eyes close and you gently pick him up off of the ground, standing and turning to the Mandalorian. Your eyes are wide with disbelief, and you’re vaguely aware of the way that your heart is beating rather quickly in your chest. Looking back down at the little one, who has fallen asleep in your arms, you can’t help but fall speechless in the wake of what you’ve seen.

“Take him back to his pod. He needs to rest,” Mando says, breaking the silence that has fallen over the entire crew. You manage to nod slightly, stepping carefully over to the pram. Gently laying the little one down, you cover him with his blanket and then close the pod with the button on the side. When you stand again, you look out into the darkness that lies beyond the camp. Your mind can’t make sense of what the child can do. All you know is one thing: this has become so much more than you thought it would.

You’re not sure you’re comfortable with that.

---

After a night of less-than-restful sleep, you continue the journey into town at the first sight of sunrise. Karga and his hunters walk just a few paces ahead of you and Mando, with the child between you once again. Kuiil lags much farther behind, riding the last of the blurrgs. You’re acutely aware of the hushed conversations happening between Karga and his hunters. You turn to Mando, suspicious of what might be happening. “Do you think they’re having second thoughts?,” you ask him, quiet enough that he’s the only one that can hear you.

“Could be,” he murmurs, and the fact that his own suspicion is winning over is enough to put you on edge. “I need your eyes,” he tells you.

“You know I haven’t stopped watching,” you reply, gaze hard and set on the three in front of you.

Just a short while later, you reach the town. You stand at the edge of a rock shelf, looking at it from above. You let out a soft breath, ready to get this operation over with. You don’t like one bit of this. Every fiber of your being is telling you that there’s something wrong. You’re just waiting for it all to finally come crashing down.

Greef takes a step forward, surveying the town. “I guess this is it,” he says. A few seconds pass, and then he turns suddenly, firing both of his blasters in yours and Mando’s directions. Your heart flies up into your throat, and your own weapon is drawn as the shots hit their targets. But nothing hits you. Or the Mandalorian.

Shocked, you look behind you to see that Karga has disposed of his own men. You stand up straight again, aiming your blaster squarely at him, even with his hands raised in surrender and his thumbs away from the triggers, you have no intention of trusting any move that he makes.

“There’s something you should know,” he says, walking between you and the Mandalorian to reach the bodies of the dead Guild hunters. You keep your blaster trained on him even as he kicks the weapons away from the bodies. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it,” he explains.

Neither you or the Mandalorian move or speak. Karga steps back, opening his stance to both of you. It’s an easy shot. You could take it if you wanted to. Then it would be over. You could go back to the Razor Crest and leave this place.

“Go on,” he says, meeting your gaze, “You can gun me down here and now and it wouldn’t violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe.” He gestures to the child, but you won’t have it.

“We’ll take our chances. We’ve kept him safe this long. We don’t need your help,” you say, anger clear in your tone as you look at the Guild agent. You want so badly to pull the trigger, but you won’t. Not until you hear what the Mandalorian has to say about it. In the end, no matter your hatred for Greef Karga, it’s his call. It’s his child.

“The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?,” Greef continues, trying with everything he has to get you and Mando to see the point he’s trying to make.

You cast a glance in Mando’s direction, but you don’t let it linger for long. You won’t let Karga out of your sight for any longer than a second or two. “We could leave right now. Find a better way to do this later. We can’t trust him,” you argue. Your blood is rushing hot through your veins. Your heart is pounding. This needs to end now.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil says, holding up his hand as a way to get you to stand down.

Karga takes a step towards the Mandalorian. You slowly lower your blaster, but you don’t holster it. “Listen, we both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the child to him, and then you two–”

“No,” Mando finally says, his weapon still pointed at Greef.

Satisfied, you aim your blaster again. “Let’s get this over with and get out of here,” you say.

But the Mandalorian lowers his blaster. “No. He’s right.”

“What are you doing?,” you question in disbelief.

“As long as the Imp lives, he’ll send hunters after the child,” he tells you.

“You can’t honestly be considering this. He’ll have us killed the first chance that he gets and then the child will be lost. We both know how he operates,” you retort.

“Bring me,” he tells Greef.

“Bring you?,” the agent asks incredulously, his hands on his hips.

“Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I’ll kill him,” Mando says.

“That’s a good idea. Give me your blaster,” he says. You watch as the Mandalorian does so without hesitation.

You shake your head, finally lowering your weapon. “Mando, don’t do this,” you plead, “It’s a trap.”

He turns to face you. You stare into the horizontal part of the visor, trying to understand how he could believe that this plan would work. “It’s the only way,” he says.

“Well then I’m coming with you,” you state with finality, holstering your blaster.

“No. No. No. That would make them suspicious. You’re a known traitor to the Guild,” Greef says.

You lock eyes with him. “Does it look like I care? I’m not letting you take them in there alone. You can tell them I caught him, as recompense,” you tell him.

“Fine. Then she can bring the child,” Greef says to the Mandalorian.

“No. The kid goes back in the ship,” he replies, gesturing to Kuiil. You nearly sigh in relief. That’s the smartest thing that he’s said throughout the entire conversation.

“But without the child, none of this works!,” Greef argues.

“I have a plan. Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the child and seal yourself in. When you’re inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors,” Mando says. Kuiil nods, walking over to Mando and handing him a small device.

“Here’s a comlink. I will keep the child safe,” he vows. You finally find yourself soothed. Despite your brief acquaintance with the ugnaught, you trust him with the child’s life. He’s the only one you trust outside of the Mandalorian himself. It’s risky going in without the child, but you’d rather take the chance of being discovered by the Imp than put the child in danger.

You watch as the ugnaught takes the child from his pram, wrapping him in a blanket before starting back towards the blurrg. He stops, looking up at you for just a moment. “Be mindful of your anger, lest it blind you,” he warns you.

You nod. “With the child in your hands, that won’t be a problem,” you promise. Satisfied, Kuiil goes back to the blurrg. You look back to the Mandalorian, watching as he’s cuffed with his own binders. You take in a deep breath, tightening the strap that keeps the heavy blaster secured on your back, then reach down and close the child’s empty pod.

“Let’s go,” the Mandalorian says.

---

You only have to reach the front of the town to see that it’s been overrun by stormtroopers. At the sight of the scout troopers guarding the entrance, you and Mando steal a quick second of eye contact. It’s Greef that handles them, though you can’t help but tense just slightly as they ask for a chain code.

“This is a gift for the boss,” Greef says.

“Chain code,” the trooper demands.

He hands over a card, which the trooper scans. For a moment, you think that you’ve already been caught, but then the trooper looks back and forth between Mando and Greef. “I’ll give you twenty credits for the helmet,” he offers.

Karga gives a half-hearted chuckle. “Not a chance. That’s going on my wall,” he says.

“On your wall?,” Mando mutters, turning slightly.

“Go with it,” Greef says quietly.

“Go ahead,” the trooper says, handing back the card. Greef urges the Mandalorian forward, and you walk with the two of them through the street. You feel every stormtrooper eye trained on the three of you and the empty pram that floats just behind. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you try to keep yourself steady. But the amount of Imperials is unnerving.

When you make it to the door of the client’s building, you clench your fists at your sides, walking in right behind Mando. As you enter, you see that Karga’s words from the previous night are true. There are four troopers in the room to guard the client.

You look around the empty cantina, finding the man that you presume to be the client sitting at a table alone. He’s an older man with narrowed eyes and a strange aura about him. Looking at him, you wouldn’t have guessed that he was an officer even in his prime. He stands, approaching Greef and Mando as they draw near, his eyes curious as he takes in the sight of the Mandalorian. You keep a bit of distance, surveying the stormtroopers without them catching your eyes.

“Look what I brought you. As promised,” Karga says, presenting the Mandalorian to the client. The old man puts a hand to Mando’s cuirass and then his helmet, looking the suit of armor over with interest.

“What exquisite craftsmanship,” he says, his voice slow and raspy and crooning. It holds a certain mystery to it that doesn’t sit right with you. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans,” he continues, but then looks to Karga again. “Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?,” he asks.

“I would be obliged,” he replies with a nod.

The client gestures to the bartender droid, and once the droid gets to work, he takes a seat at the table again. “Please sit,” he tells Greef, who then slides into the booth with Mando on the inside. You take just a step closer, watching the stormtroopers as they change position, all focused on the Mandalorian. There are more of them now.

“It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.” You listen closely to the client’s words, having to bite your tongue at the admiration for such a terrorizing regime. You’ve seen firsthand the way that people have suffered at the hands of the Empire. Nothing could ever make you believe that it was good. Nothing.

“I would like to see the baby,” the client says, his focus shifting quickly. You watch the pod, knowing that now is when the Mandalorian must strike. Once the pram is opened and the client discovers that the child isn’t there, the charade is over. You ready yourself to fight, but don’t move to draw your weapon yet. You can’t do it with the stormtroopers watching you.

“Uh..,” Greef hesitates, putting his hand out to stop the client from opening the pod, “It is asleep.” It’s a lame excuse. You know. But if it buys you any amount of time, then it works.

The client looks around at the troopers in warning. Still not retracting his hand. “We all will be quiet,” he promises. Your heart starts beating a little faster. Sweat beads at the back of your neck. The next few moments will either end triumphantly or in your death. You’re ready for either.

“Open the pram,” he demands as Greef sits in silence.

One of the stormtroopers approaches the client, and you can hear chatter coming from the radio, but you can’t decipher what’s being said. The client stands, and with him so does Greef. “Don’t think me to be rude,” the client says, “but I must take this call.” With this, he walks over to the bar. As soon as the attention is no longer on the three of you, you turn to Mando and Greef, watching as Mando frees himself from the binders.

“Give me the blaster,” he whispers.

The exchange is quick and discreet. “You get one shot,” Greef warns.

“You said there would only be four,” you murmur, leaning in closer to the two men.

“Well, there are more. What can I tell you?,” he replies.

You stand up straight again, glancing in the client’s direction. He’s bent over the bar, speaking quietly to whomever has contacted him. It’s all quiet, that is, until shots come through the window, hitting the client. His body falls to the floor, and the barrage continues. You drop to the ground, moving with the Mandalorian to take cover. Several stormtroopers are caught in the blaze, and they fall dead to the floor as well.

Concealed behind a column, you wait what seems like forever for the attack to end. When it goes quiet, you’re up, moving quickly and carefully to one side of the window while Mando goes to the other. You peer around the wall and out the window. Your heart drops to your stomach and your blood runs cold at what you see.

Death troopers.

But that’s not the end of it. A transport comes in, carrying another battalion of stormtroopers. They surround the building and stand behind the line of death troopers, poised and ready to shoot on command. You look to the Mandalorian. You’re outnumbered and surrounded. You know that it’s very likely that you won’t leave the cantina alive.

“What do we do?,” you ask.

Mando brings the comlink closer to his helmet. “Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet?,” he asks.

There’s no immediate answer.

“Are you there? Do you copy?”

“Yes!,” you hear, and you sigh in relief knowing that the child is still safe.

“Are you back to the ship yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down!,” Mando exclaims, and you close your eyes for just a moment, praying to whatever deity or maker that will listen to you that the child and the ugnaught will make it back to the ship and far away from Nevarro. Your death will be worth it if the little one lives.

You open your eyes when you hear rustling outside, and you hear a ship coming in. You look out the window, watching as a TIE fighter approaches, landing right behind the scores of troopers. This is it. You were right. This was always about far more than just the client.

The door on the top of the ship hisses as it opens, and from it rises another man. He comes down from the ship and walks between the troopers, stopping just in front of the line of death troopers in the front. “You have something I want,” he proclaims.

You look back at Mando, confusion written across your facial features. “Who is that?,” you ask, though frankly you don’t expect him to know. He doesn’t answer you, instead keeping his eyes trained on this new adversary.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not,” the man continues, his voice echoing off of the buildings as he speaks.

Mando tries the comlink again. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They’re onto us!,” he says. Again, there’s no immediate answer. “Kuiil, come in!”

“In a few moments,” the other man begins, and your focus on Kuiil’s answer is broken, “it will be mine.”

“Kuiil! Do you copy!” The Mandalorian sounds much more panicked now. “Kuiil!”

“It means more to me than you will ever know.”

Your gaze shifts back and forth between Mando and the man outside. Your stomach is in knots and you’ve broken out into a cold sweat. The ugnaught’s silence is eating at you.

“Kuiil! Are you there?!” The Mandalorian keeps trying to get an answer. “Come in Kuiil. Kuiil, come in.” Still there is nothing. “Kuiil, are you there?!” He’s yelling now, and panicked tears are burning at your eyes at the thought of what might have happened to the ugnaught and the baby. “Do you copy?! Kuiil? Kuiil!”

No answer.

You look out the window at the masses of troopers and the TIE fighter and the man that demands to have the child for himself. You look back at the Mandalorian and Greef Karga and the destroyed cantina littered with bodies. You wonder how it all could have gotten so out of hand so quickly, how no one had any idea of what was in store for the child. You’d felt something wrong before you ever landed on Nevarro, but even your intuition had never prompted you to consider something of this magnitude.

The Mandalorian meets your gaze. You don’t have to see his eyes to know his terror. You can feel it just as intensely as you feel your own.

---

Chapter Four: Cuyanir

---

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moonlitdesertdreams · 3 years ago

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Judgement Call (Din Djarin x OC)- Chapter XX

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CHAPTER XX: SACRIFICE

IG-11 directed the trio whilst they were in the sewers. There were various twists and turns, and Zakia couldn’t discern exactly which way she had come. However, the droid seemed sure it could track Karga and Cara based on their bio-signals, and led his humans through the tunnels.

Din was quiet, as expected, as he draped his weight over Zakia’s shoulders. She wasn’t of much help, as their height difference made him slouch, but the droid assisted. Escaping the tavern had been one thing, but the Imperials would be after them. Now Zakia had confirmation the Mandalorians had used the sewer to move about Nevarro, it was their only hope. Again, Din wasn’t of much use on that front, as the bacta was still incubating in his wounds and the Mandalorian didn’t do anything besides trudge on beside her. They had replaced his helmet upon entry into the tunnels, but it felt different. No longer was it concealing Din’s face and eyes. It held his secret- their secret- and Zakia understood.

“Your vital signs are improving.” The droid monotoned as they moved, still a distance behind Karga and Cara.

A sound that was suspiciously similar to a snort slipped beneath the modulator. “Marvelous.”

Zakia smiled at the sound of his voice, tightening her hold on the Mandalorian. Din squeezed her hip where his arm rested, and she turned the grin onto him. “How you doin’?”

Din’s helmet bobbed up and down, distinct from the jarring of IG-11’s movements. “Better as we move.”

Zakia tucked herself closer and nodded. “Good. Cara can’t be much further ahead.”

IG continued to direct them through the concrete maze, cylindrical head spinning to scan the ground. It was focused on the concrete floor, and apparently too much as its leg crashed into an abandoned toolbox at the closest corner.

“Oh. Proximity sensor failure.” IG-11 reported aloud.

“Hunk of junk.” Zakia muttered.

They rounded said corner, and all froze upon seeing a flashlight beam. Zakia had her pistols pulled in seconds, allowing the droid to take Din’s weight. But as their light changed, Zakia dropped the guns and sighed.

Cara came jogging towards them, a smile breaking across her face. She clasped Zakia’s shoulder and looked into Din’s visor, handing off the Child to IG-11 with little hesitance. Greef was close behind her, also looking relieved at their appearance. She took Din’s other side, slanting some of his weight off of Zakia’s shoulders.

No time to waste, they continued to press on through the tunnels. As speech was forgone, their footsteps echoed around the walls and back into their own ears. Time stretched on in what seemed to be endless loops as they traversed the concrete maze.

“Do you know which way to go?” Greef asked as they entered another junction. This one had three options- the way they’d come, and two paths splitting off on either side of them.

“No.” Din’s voice had grown more steady since Zakia had heard it. “I don’t know these tunnels, I’ve only entered from the bazaar.”

Zakia tried to keep the concern from her expression as it weighed on her mind. If Din didn’t know the way to the covert, they would doubtlessly end up right back in Imperial clutches. There was only so many turns they could keep track of, and Zakia would not be shocked to end up right back where they had started.

“Well, if we get the smell of sulfur and we follow it, it’ll lead us up to the plains where the river flows.” Karga suggested.

The beam of Din’s helmet light wavered as he shook his head. “And the Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.”

Zakia’s only comfort was the lessening pressure of Din’s arm around her shoulders. Every few meters he would ease up, putting more pressure back on his own feet and keeping his head more square on his shoulders. It was only a matter of time before he stopped her and Cara, weakly digging his heels into the ground.

“Ugh, this place is a maze.” Cara growled when they slowed, pointing a handheld light down either of the available paths.

“Stop.” Din held out his arms, and Zakia stepped back. “I can stand.”

“The bacta infusion is working.” IG-11 stated, and Zakia was sure she had never felt so grateful to be in the droid’s presence. The Child hadn’t made a single noise of discomfort in the bot’s presence, reaffirming his stance as a proper caretaker.

“Can you check for tracks?” Zakia asked Din, motioning vaguely to her head in a poor imitation of his helmet. She followed by swinging the rifle from her shoulder, holding it loosely in a ready position.

“I’m about to.” Din nodded, keying something into his bracer to activate the reconnaissance features.

Zakia watched his viewfinder sweep across the ground, and pause when he apparently spotted something of interest. Din pointed at whatever it was, taking a few steps forward. “We’re close.”

It was then he took the lead, boots moving soundly across the ground. Zakia took long strides to keep pace with him. There was an unspoken sort of connection after their less-than-world-shattering reveal only minutes ago. Nothing had come raining down on them and nothing had threatened Din’s creed. But the implications of their actions were apparent to both parties, and it seemed to hold them together like magnets. Zakia and the Mandalorian, since engaging in an intimate relationship, had always shared a connection in regards to movements and body language. It was necessary when one person’s expressions were not visible to the other. Body language and movement cues had to be taken to work together. Though now it seemed to be purely sensory- Zakia could predict his every move and sense his emotion better than ever before. She had a face to go with a voice, lips to go with unseen kisses, and eyes to go with the empty stares from his helmet. Maybe it was just her emotions running on high and simply on fumes, put to the ultimate test in the past cycle. Or perhaps it was the start of something new.

“Turn here.” Din’s command was a bit broken still, but it returned Zakia to her present self, tightening the grip she had on her rifle.

The group took a hard left turn into a section of tunnels, and the floor began to change. It morphed from concrete into slatted metal grates, and the pats of their footsteps grew metallic. Din was still in the lead with Zakia and Cara flanking him, followed by Karga and IG-11. She could only assume they were drawing near, and Din’s pace sped up as he grew more confident in his turns. His last led them to a long stretch of straight hallway, floor indented in the middle for drainage with raised edges.

Zakia shined the light on her scope around, soaking in the sight of overturned tables and discarded chairs. She furrowed her brow as an eerie feeling crept down her spine, and she let out a muffled yelp as her foot slipped on a large object in its path.

“Ouch, damn it- oh no.” She swallowed as her rifle illuminated the ground, pushing down the bile which bit at her throat.

The object at her feet was a helmet. A Mandalorian helmet. And if her memory served her right, which she was sure it did, they were not fond of removing said helmets.

Timidly, Zakia lifted a hand to Din’s arm, not able to tear her gaze away from the haunting sight on the floor. Her fingers were immediately brushed away, and it drew her attention from the helmet to her partner.

“No…” Zakia stepped to his side, purposefully avoiding contact.

Piled in front of them, was what remained of the Mandalorian Covert.

There was a waist-high pile of armor, with all pieces from shin guards to pauldrons and helmets in varying sizes. A particularly terrifying display sat on the front- a single helmet staring back at the group. Zakia turned back to Cara, trying not to engage Din as he switched the light on his helmet off.

Cara and Greef seemed as shocked as she was, and offered no help as to next moves. Zakia turned back to Din, reaching out a hand. “Din..”

He waved her off, stepping closer to the pile of beskar. Zakia’s hand fell back to her side, and she kept distance between them to let him breathe. Though they had been through a lot in the recent hours, she knew he would rather have space than pity.

The Mandalorian lowered himself to a knee, lifting the single helmet Zakia had been watching out of the pile. He examined it closely, turning the metal over in his hands. It was in desperate need of a polish from an owner who was no longer.

Cara took the silent moment to tap Zakia’s arm. “Let me.”

Her voice was low, and Zakia hated what she was intoning, but nodded anyway. There was no need for Zakia to be the one to encourage his leave, but they had to keep moving if the covert was no longer.

“We should go.” Cara had approached Din carefully, hovering over his right shoulder while staying apart from him.

“You two go. Take the ship. I can’t leave it this way.”

All of the sadness Zakia had felt when in the presence of the remains dulled at Din’s words, and she stepped forward without thinking. “You’re not starting this again.”

“And you are not arguing the point this time! These are my people!”

Din’s anger surprised Zakia, and she recoiled. Her jaw snapped shut, and she bit down on her tongue to rein in tears.

“Did you know about this?” Din was demanding, this time from Karga. “Is this the work of your bounty hunters?”

Zakia watched from her position, brain struggling to decide between anger and pity. Right then, it was leaning towards the former. She knew Din’s irrational behavior was only from sorrow, but the aggressiveness of his words was unwarranted.

“No.” Karga’s response was instant, and Zakia had zero doubt in regards to the truthfulness of it.

She knew the types that hunted, and they could care less about internal and political conflict. They wanted credits, and they wanted out. That was it. Her and Din had been prime examples for years, and the Mandalorian knew it full well.

“When you two left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended. The hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries. They’re not zealots!”

Back on his feet now, Din spun to Greef. “Did you do this? Did you?”

Zakia pushed herself in front of Din, preventing him from getting close to Karga. As much as it burned her to be on the opposite side of her partner for once, she couldn’t allow emotions to cloud his normally stellar judgement.

“Mando, stop . I know how you must feel right now, but you know that Karga is right about this!” Zakia imagined to deep chocolate eyes she had seen in the burning tavern, alight with rage and grief at seeing his people destroyed.

“You need to get out of my way.” Din growled, hands balling into fists at his sides. “I know he-”

“It was not his fault.”

Cara reached for her blaster, and Zakia tensed. The voice was unfamiliar, but familiar in its tone and sound. It was being projected through a modulator, and the thought made both women relax as they turned. Din had been at ease throughout the length of her appearance, and Zakia took it as a sign the woman was friendly.

Upon laying eyes on her, Zakia realized why. She was glad in a red-tone cuirass and heavy-duty tunic-type garment that reached just above her knees. A fur shawl was visible behind her shoulders, and her helmet was gleaming gold with small spikes at the crown of her head.

“We revealed ourselves. We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter.” The female Mandalorian motioned to the pile their rag-tag group had been observing. “This is what resulted.”

“Did any survive?” Din inquired, putting his back fully to Karga as the adrenaline from his one-sided confrontation wore thin.

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world.” She answered.

Zakia was entranced at the sound of her smooth voice. It was firm yet delicate, never hesitant and yet never harsh. She sounded like a leader. Din had mentioned that the Mandalorians were a matriarchal people, and wondered if this woman had been in charge of his tribe.

“Come with us.” Din proposed to her, helmet tipping down in what Zakia took as a sign of respect.

“No.” The answer was short and curt, leaving no room for argument. “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

After loading several pieces of armor onto a hovercart, the Matriarch began to push it down the hall she had appeared from. Din followed behind, and the remaining three humans swapped looks. As much as it probably should have been a private moment, they all followed. It was not worth splitting up this far in.

They followed the Mandalorian woman down a winding tunnel, eventually ending in a circular cavern. A massive forge took up most of the center, hot blue flame shooting up from several heating units around the circular melting pot. The temperature within the room had climbed significantly, increasing by a substantial amount as their newest friend began lowering additional pieces to the forge.

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

Zakia’s eyes flickered from the woman to Din and then to the bundle still carried by IG-11. The droid stepped up at her command, and Din moved forward to be near the Child. “This is the one.”

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?” The woman asked.

So Din had told her this story. Zakia imagined he spent time in this very room so the woman could craft his new armor after the Child’s capture, so the story of how he wound up with so much beskar was bound to come up.

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.” Din added.

“From the Mudhorn?”

“Yes.” Din’s answers to the woman were prompt.

“It looks helpless.” She then tilted her helmet back to Din. “You had more help with the Mudhorn than simply this Child, is that correct?”

Zakia tensed. She had shot the Mudhorn after the Child had levitated it off the ground.

“Yes.”

The Matriarch then turned towards Zakia, approaching her with purpose that the blonde found momentarily intimidating. She spoke something in Mando’a, to which Din replied quickly.

“You must be Zakia.” The woman spoke in a lighter tone than normal, with something nearing fondness in her voice.

“Yes ma’am.” She answered, dipping her head in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“As it is to meet you. Din Djarin tells me you are a great warrior.”

Zakia smiled, if only a little. “I hope so. I do the best I can so we work well together.”

“Good. I am always glad to make the acquaintance of a great warrior.”

She returned to the furnace then, redirecting her attention to Din. “Tell me about this Child.”

“It is injured but it is not helpless.” Din’s voice was growing more urgent as moments ticked by. “Its species can move objects with its mind.”

Zakia took a step to the IG, reaching a hand up to brush across the Child’s ear. It cooed happily at her as the Mandalorians continued to converse.

“I know of such things.” The Matriarch explained to Din, busying herself at the forge. “The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

Rotating away from the kid, Zakia caught Cara’s curious eyes. The woman’s words were no comforting in the least.

“It is an enemy?” Din pressed, shoulders squaring. His helmet remained fixed on his leader, but Zakia imagined his eyes searching out the Child.

“No. Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.”

“What is it?” Din’s voice was growing more rushed as the woman kept a steady pace in her work.

“It is a foundling.” She emphasized the last word, hanging weight on custom that was dreadfully important to Mandalorian culture. “By Creed, it is in your care.”

Air rushed from Zakia’s lungs when the realization that the Child was actually theirs. That was, by the Mandalorian’s decree, anyway.

“You wish me to train this thing?”

The female Mandalorian who was digging through a cabinet at that moment turned to him. “It is too weak. It would die.”

Zakia’s heart skipped a beat at the statement, reaching out once again to the kid.

“You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind.”

As much as they hadn’t acknowledged it, the Child’s species had been a mystery. Zakia had seen quite a range of beings in her time, but nothing as small as this one, or that aged as slowly.

“Where?”

Din’s question subverted Zakia’s own, making another fair point. They had no idea what it was, let alone where to find its kind.

“This you must determine.”

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to a race of enemy sorcerers?”

The Matriarch answered him simply: “This is the Way.”

Continuing with her smith’s work, the woman turned back to her workbench. Cara finally stepped forward, gesturing urgently at the door. “Hey. These tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan.”

“If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream towards the lava flats.”

Zakia was eternally thankful for the Matriarch’s words, unable to vocalize her own concerns. Din’s flippant behavior when they had arrived at the covert was not unwarranted, but it felt like an angry open wound on her mind.

“I think we should go.” Karga agreed, checking the doorway for any signs of intruders.

“I’m staying. I need to help her, and I need to heal.” Din was back to his previous ways, and Zakia shouldered her rifle.

“How hard did you hit your head?” She demanded. “Why are you so dead set on killing yourself today?”

“Enough, Zakia!” The same tone he had taken on in the tunnel returned, and Zakia approached him until they were inches apart. She poked a single finger into his cuirass.

“So much for partners.”

Zakia stepped back, making her way to the other side of Greef and momentarily doting over the Child.

“She is right.” The blacksmith didn’t turn away from her work, but had obviously caught their exchange. “You must go. A foundling is in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.”

If steam hadn’t been rolling from Zakia’s ears, the glances tossed between Cara and Greef would have been comical.

“This is the Way.” She went about her business once again, calm as if the Imps weren’t bearing down on them. “You have earned your signet.”

Sparks flew from Din’s pauldron when the woman approached and began etching into the metal. Zakia had to squint, unwilling to have welder’s flash from watching. When the smoke cleared, a mudhorn skull was visible on his shoulders, marking his armor permanently.

“A clan of two. Maybe even three, as I see it.” It sounded as if the Matriarch was smiling, but the steel betrayed nothing.

Din’s head tilted towards her. “I’ve done something-”

“What you have done out of necessity is irrelevant in such perilous times.” The woman looked at Zakia, and then back to Din. “It is the Way.”

Zakia swallowed as Din thanked her. Though it was apparent she knew something had occurred, it seemed more important that they uphold the Creed’s dedication to foundlings and protect the Child. Which was a promise that Zakia could stand behind.

They were gearing up to exit when the sound of muffled explosions reverberated through the tunnels. Zakia was closest to the door apart from the IG, and stuck her head outside. Dust was rolling down the outermost hallway, and the sound of footsteps was becoming more clear.

“IG, please guard the outer hallway.” The Matriarch instructed. “A scouting party draws near.”

The droid made a full circle turn to hand the baby to Zakia, promptly making his exit from the room. The Child smiled up at her, and the blonde tried her best to return the gesture. She kept an eye on the outer hall, only turning back when the Matriarch lifted a large device from one of the tables.

“Is that a jetpack?” Zakia muttered, only loud enough for Cara.

The shock-trooper leaned in. “I think that’s an affirmative.”

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.” The woman held the item confidently, though her tone implied she knew he wouldn’t be waiting long.

“I understand.”

It was then that blaster flashed became apparent, and Zakia moved away from the door with the child. They watched carefully as all the noise died down, and IG-11 reappeared in the hall.

“You are protected.”

It took an unnecessary amount of urging on the Matriarch’s part to get Din in a willing position to leave. He restocked his gunbelt and bandolier, wordlessly holding rifle cartridges to Zakia. He didn’t look at her and didn’t make a sound, but she took them regardless. Zakia made her exit with Cara and Greef, all jogging down in the direction they were told.

Climbing temperatures indicated they were moving in the right direction, and Zakia smelled the lava river before she spotted it. The molten sludge was moving at a sluggish pace, and the only option to traverse the deadly river was a boat that had been long adhered to the side of the wall. The ferry droid was inoperable as well.

After a brief spat about their best option, Karga and Din set to pushing the craft away from the wall to get it moving with the current. When it proved futile, Cara sighed. She pulled the repeating blaster off her shoulder and ordered the men out of her way.

“Smart.” Zakia winked at Cara as she began blasting apart the solid rock formation holding their only means of escape.

Freed shortly thereafter, everyone loaded onto the boat. Zakia handed the Child to IG-11 and allowed it to cross safely in the droid’s hold. Din and her only remained, and the Mandalorian hauled himself in. He held out a hand, but Zakia batted it away as he had to her earlied.

“I’ve got it.” She crossed the small gap and settled herself near Greef at the front of the gondola.

Zakia had just readjusted her rifle when a whirring came from the back of the ship, and the R2 model ferry droid fired up. It beeped and screeched, breaking free from its rocky captivity to reveal man-made limbs for paddling about. It was by far the strangest R2 Zakia had ever encountered, eliciting nothing more than inquisitive stares from the group.

“I don’t suppose anyone here speaks droid?”

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go.” IG-11 informed simply.

“Down river. To the lava flats.” Karga ordered.

The droid beeped happily and began paddling them towards their destination. The ride was unbearably hot, and only the bravest creatures came near the molten river banks. Everyone remained quiet, ears searching for hostile sounds and eyes peeled for enemies. Eventually, the light of day was visible a hundred meters down the tunnel. Karga stood, pointing towards the white glow.

“That’s it! We’re free!”

Zakia felt a smile tug at her lips, and she stood as well. Swinging her rifle down, she glanced through the scope. It appeared safe, and she turned on thermal to check for obstacles before declaring them free.

“No. We’re not.” She lowered the gun. “Stormtroopers are on either side of the tunnel. It looks like a whole platoon.”

“They must know we’re coming.” Din supplied, tapping into his own bracer to survey the situation.

Zakia kept an eye on their enemies as Cara ordered the ferry droid to stop. It ignored the order, and kept on rowing towards the exit. Everyone grew tense, and their journey only slowed when Cara used her blaster to blow the head from the droid’s body. However, the boat still moved with the current.

“We have to fight.” Cara stepped closer to the boat’s bow, and Zakia reached up to take the Child from IG-11.

“There are too many.” Din proclaimed.

“Then what do you suggest? Because I can’t surrender.” Cara was speaking, but Zakia was more interested in IG-11 careful examination of the conversation.

Their robotic companion seemed to dart back and forth, and cut into the conversation. “They will not be satisfied with anything less than the Child. This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“No. You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal.” Din looked at the droid, voice rising an octave as he spoke. “You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

Zakia thought back to their initial capture of the Child as warning bells began ringing in her brain.

“He was trying to opt out when we got pinned.” Din told her, striding towards the downed droid and helping pull to its feet. “You know, you’re not so bad. For a droid.”

“Agreed.”

“What are you talking about?”

Shaking the memory from the forefront of her mind, Zakia watched the droid.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.” IG said.

Not understanding the point, Greef interjected. “Are we gonna keep talking, or get out of here?”

“I can no longer carry this for you.” IG-11 handed Din the jetpack he’d been gifted. “Zakia has taken possession of the Child, for I can no longer.”

Din tried to delay the IG’s decision in vain, and the robot sounded as exasperated as someone without a brain could.

“Sadly, there is no scenario in which the Child is saved that I survive.”

Zakia forced her stomach to refrain from flopping, distracting herself by smoothing a hand over the Child’s head. It only squeaked, and the emotions he picked up on were taking an effect. Zakia did her best to remain stoic in his presence, unwilling to shed her concerns into his innocent mind.

“I’m not sad.”

“Yes you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice.” IG-11 looked to Zakia, almostly at the Child, and then proceeded to do what Din had been putting off.

He stepped into the lava, disembarking from their boat and striding confidently down the river. Zakia watched, making sure the baby was turned away. She kept her head snuggled close to him though, fighting back the sadness that wriggled into her gut. IG-11 had saved them from the Imps, and the impression was not a small one.

At the mouth of the tunnel, IG was sparking and twitching. They were too far in to hear his words, but close enough that the force of his self-destruct explosion sent Zakia’s hair blowing in a warm gush of wind. She ducked her face into her elbow to avoid any debris, and made sure the Child was covered.

When she looked up, IG was gone. No one spoke, only began readying their weapons in case of stragglers. Zakia imagined there may be a few, but IG’s explosion had been impressive enough that she would be far from surprised if there weren’t any.

The gondola crept out of the tunnel, and everyone aboard was ready for an attack. Zakia swept her scope around the small peaks, seeing nothing but singed armor and white uniforms. The Child chirped, but the sound was drowned out as a louder and familiar sound approached.

Engines whirred, and Zakia had to squint against the bright sun to fully make out the TIE-fighter rushing them.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara exclaimed, raising her repeating blaster.

Zakia aimed her pistols as well, opting to sling the rifle. She set the Child at her feet, and the group exchanged fire with Gideon as he swept by. None of the TIE’s blasts made contact with them, but the group took it as it was- a warning. Karga encouraged the baby to use his abilities, but the order was lost on its tiny mind.

“I’m out of ideas.”

“I’m not.” Din grabbed the jetpack from the boat’s floor, hauling it over his shoulder and attaching it to the rear of his cuirass.

“Here he comes!” Cara called, prepping everyone for the second round of fire.

Din pressed various buttons on his vambrace, and Zakia watched. Anger still simmering, she didn’t move to do anything but speak.

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

A curt nod returned her, and the Mandalorian’s newest accessory began to fire up. The lift off sequence was similar to that of Paz, who had picked Zakia up during their initial raid on the Imperial hideout. Din stood still on the boat as Gideon approached, but launched into the air as soon as he passed again.

He shot straight up, overtop of the TIE-fighter. A grapple shot from his gauntlets, and Zakia winced as they disappeared behind the peaks surrounding the tunnel.

“”Damn.” She muttered.

Everyone on the ground did their best to follow the skyward action, but it was impossible to know exactly what was happening. Moff Gideon soared above the clouds and then dove, and swerved in between mountain peaks. Din was only visible in short stretches, obviously fighting to damage the craft.

“Come on…” She muttered, scrambling out of the boat and onto solid ground. Zakia tried to watch as the TIE-fight swept into her view, this time with a smoking wing and fiery engine. It was hurtling towards the ground, and Zakia’s breath hitched as it made impact moments later. She scoured the sky, and eventually caught sight of a black dot, growing larger as it neared the ground.

“Din, I swear…” Zakia trailed off as his descent slowed abruptly, courtesy of the jetpack. He flailed as he neared the ground, making a relatively stable landing a few meters away.

About to move forward, Cara tapped her on the shoulder. “Let me.” She motioned towards the Child, and Zakia thanked her quietly as she passed him off.

Their reunion was slow-going, with Zakia stepping forward slyly, hands on her hips. “You’re still alive.”

“I’m sorry.” Din sighed, holding an arm out. His posture was exhausted, and his helmet hung on his shoulders.

Zakia smiled, stepping forward to allow his arm to fall around her. He smelled of fire and smoke, but as long as he was alive, she could live with it. “Don’t ever talk like that again. I know it was hard, and I’m sorry.”

Din only nodded, retreating a step when Karga and Cara made a strategically late entrance to the gathering.

“That was impressive, Mando. Very impressive.” Greef said with a smile. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

All business, the Mandalorian spoke. “Anymore Stormtroopers?”

Cara assured him they were gone, as well as revealing her plan to stay in town a while. Zakia smiled at her, grinning when the Child squeaked up at the Mandalorian. Cara lowered the baby to the ground, allowing him freedom while Din questioned her on her choice.

“Well why not? Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.” Karga intervened on Din’s apparent opposition.

“For bounty hunters?” Zakia inquired, smoothing her wild hair away from her face.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters.” Greef protested. “And perhaps this specimen of soldier would consider joining our ranks.”

Cara snorted at that, reaffirming her concerns regarding her chain code. They continued bantering for a moment, and Zakia actually felt content for the first time in a long while. Adrenaline still raced through her veins, but it was wearing thin.

Din’s helmet tilted down abruptly, and Zakia followed it to the Child. The creature was pawing at Din’s leg, holding tiny hands up in a universal gesture. Din knelt and acquiesced the kid, and Zakia leaned into his shoulder.

“Of course, you two will be welcome back into the Guild with open arms. So go off, enjoy yourselves. When you’re ready to return, I will give you both the pick of all quarries.”

As long as the Child squirmed happily in his arms and Zakia was pressed against his side, Din was unconcerned with the Guild. They needed to recover. To rebuild connections that had been broken, and explore new ones.

“I’m afraid I have more pressing matters at hand.”

______________________________________________

Burying Kuiil before embarking on their adventure had Zakia in tears.

Adrenaline wore off, she was raw from running and her body was tired. She sat limply in the pilot’s seat, waiting for Din to return from laying the Child down. Zakia thought about the Ugnaught’s contributions to their lives, and how they would be somewhere completely different with out his help. Comfort engulfed her at the thought that he died with honor, defending something precious from the system that had wronged him earlier.

“How are you?”

Zakia snapped to attention, peeling her eyes from the windscreen as they exited Nevarro’s atmosphere. Din stood in the rear of the cockpit, hands hung limply at his sides. The jetpack was still fastened onto his back, and his cloak hung at an odd angle.

“I’m okay. Just thinking about Kuiil.”

“He died with honor.” Din took a few steps towards the pilot’s chair, kneeling down so he was even with his partner.

“I know.” Zakia let out a long exhale. “But it’s over.”

“That it is.” The Mandalorian dipped his head, and Zakia swore she could hear the debate raging in his head. “Zakia, the reason I wanted to stay-”

She reached a hand out to his cuirass, fingers wrapping around the top of the metal and squeezing.

“Stop. I don’t want to do this right now.” Zakia spun the chair until she faced him fully.

Din placed his hands on her knees, leaning his helmet against her abdomen as she perched on the end of the chair. Zakia’s hands slid over his shoulders and held tight, fingers worming their way through his cowl. The tips of her digits traced the sharp line of his helmet, and Din lifted his head.

“Go ahead.”

Zakia swallowed, removing the beskar as she had in the burning building. The golden brown skin of his neck was visible first, followed by the dark swath of hair on his head. Her eyes found his after a few moments, both sets wet and wide in the dim cabin. It was lit only by starlight as they floated through space.

“I love you.” Zakia murmurmed, ducking her head to place a kiss in his hair.

Din didn’t answer her verbally, but the response would have been unnecessary. He tucked his head back against her abdomen, arms lifting to encircle her waist. Zakia didn’t mention the way his shoulders shook once his eyes were concealed, and she didn’t hesitant to stroke her fingers through his dirty hair.

“You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” Zakia whispered, “And I wouldn’t trade all of this for anything in the galaxy.”

Din huffed against her stomach, and Zakia kissed his head once again. “Nothing in the galaxy?” His voice was muffled in her clothes.

“Nothing. Unless you find something more amazing than yourself.” Zakia chuckled. “But a warm beach and a strong drink sounds great right about now.”

“You can have anything you want.”

Din lifted his head to smile at her, and Zakia’s heart raced. A smile pushed the tissue of her scar aside, and she was elated at the thought of relaxation. The Mandalorian- now so vulnerable and quiet without armor- tapped the Navicomputer until it beeped.

And when they entered hyperspace, their fear stayed behind.

#din djarin x oc #din x oc #din #din djarin #mandalorian #the mandalorian #moff gideon #happy ending #or is it #grogu #baby yoda

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jabbajambler · 4 years ago

Text

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 1,919

*GIF by @weloveweird*

It was so beautiful outside of the ship. Each star appeared to shine brighter than the other, although Mando corrected me a few times by telling me they were distant planets and moons. I never pegged him as someone who would know so much about the galaxy. He would even tell me the names of stars and the stories behind some of the constellations.

As much as I loved gazing out the window at the passing planets, there was one in particular that caused a sick feeling in my stomach.

Nevarro.

I used to love coming home to the gray planet, but now it was strange to me. I couldn't seem to recognize it anymore, at least not as my home.

Mando's focus remained on the skies as we neared the planet, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He was so much more than I imagined he would be, more than most Mandalorians. I didn't want our time together to end when it was just beginning.

The only sound in the ship was the control panel's beeping and whirring. We had been quiet for a while. I couldn't find the right words to say. I hated that I had grown so close to him.

It made the goodbyes so much harder.

Mando moved his hand to press a button that lit the cockpit with a hologram of Greef Karga. My mouth went dry at the sight.

"Mando. I've received your transmission. Wonderful news. Upon your return, deliver the quarry directly to the client. I have no idea if he wants to eat it or hang it on his wall, but he's very antsy...And Mando? When you arrive...Could you please search for Myrah? I haven't seen her for a few days and I'm worried. I'm willing to pay anything if you find her... Safe passage! You know where to find me."

I gulped, trying to get the lump out of my throat as the image disappeared. I could hear him talking to the child as it tried to mess with his controls. I only hoped that perhaps it would lighten the mood.

"Mando, I-"

"You were running away?"

"Well, no. Not exactly."

He spun to face me and I quickly tried to turn away from him, but his hands landed firm on the arms of the chair to keep me from moving. I kept my gaze down on my hands, or, at least I tried to. He gently pinched my chin and pulled my head up to look at him. He made me feel weak.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't running...I wanted to prove myself."

He sighed and pulled his hand from my face, allowing his fingers to linger on my jaw a while longer. The delicate touch left goosebumps on my skin.

"I can't go back." I whispered.

"What?"

"I have to leave once we're done. I've stuck around too long, I can't stay there any longer, I-" I jumped up, grasping his hands tight in mine. I was surprised when he didn't flinch or pull away. "Come with me! We make a great team. The possibilities are endless, we could become the best damn bounty hunters this galaxy has ever seen."

"Didn't you try to kill me less than a week ago?" He asked while rubbing small, soft circles on the back of my hands. The subtle action filled my stomach with butterflies.

"I didn't try to kill you. I knocked you out and tied you to a chair... There is a big difference." I joked and pulled one hand free from his grasp to trace the lines on his helmet. The craftsmanship of the Mandalorians never failed to amaze me.

I could hear his breath hitch as I ran my fingers over the curves of his helm. He quickly yanked his hands away from mine and took a step back, nearly stepping into the panel. My chest clenched and I could feel my cheeks grow warm from embarrassment.

"Myrah..." He mumbled. "I can't."

It took me a moment to realize what he said, but once I did, it hit me like a speeder.

"You're afraid..." I scoffed and tried to hide the pain. It was silly, childish, even, to ask him to run away with me. Still, a part of me hoped he would. "Kriff, I never thought I would see the day where a Mandalorian would act so- so-"

His head snapped towards me, apparently I had struck a nerve. "So what, Myrah?"

"Weak! Pathetic! C-" I stopped myself before I could go too far.

"No, continue. What were you going to say?" He demanded and took a few steps closer, towering over me.

"Cowardly." I hissed, immediately regretting my words.

The air had been sucked from the ship. We stared, daring the other to make the next move.

"Okay, Princess." He scoffed and turned away from me.

"What did you just call me?" He was silent, trying to look busy while poking around at the controls. "You know nothing about me."

"I know enough!" He snapped and spun around to face me again. "I know that you would never have to work a day in your precious little life if you didn't want to. I know that you walk around and act like everyone and everything else is beneath you. And then you want to run away? Like your wonderful life isn't perfect enough for you?"

I could feel my eyes burn as I fought off the tears that threatened to fall from them. Still, he continued.

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you don't care about what happens after this. You're just in it for the reputation and money."

"Wow." I scoffed and tilted my head back, trying to hide the tears that escaped my eyes. "You think you know everything, don't you?" I shook my head and looked back at him. Sometimes it was hard to argue with a chunk of metal. "You're so smart, Mando. I should give you an award for how much you know about my life. Guess what? You don't know shit...Just land the damn ship and get this over with."

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

Mando landed the Razor Crest on the gray, dusty terrain of Nevarro with ease. He was unbelievably calm even after our argument while I could still feel myself shake from the adrenaline. I guess I misunderstood our friendship, or, what I assumed was a friendship.

We all exited the ship in silence and began our journey into town. I tried my hardest to stand tall as we walked through the streets. Greef said the citizens here lived off of other people's sorrows. It was best to not show it at all.

I underestimated the intensity of the mission. It wasn't the average bounty, it was more underworld than what we usually did. Although, I didn't expect for us to have to travel down shady alleys to reach the client's 'hideout.' Something was very fishy about this mission.

He knocked on the door and held up a card for the small round droid to scan. The door opened to reveal two stormtroopers armed with guns. The air had been knocked out of me.

Now I knew there was something up with this client.

I could feel that gross, sick feeling coming back when they herded us down the hall. They roughly grabbed onto the child's pod and yanked it behind them. I opened my mouth to speak, but Mando beat me to it.

"Easy with that."

"You take it easy." The trooper snapped back.

We had finally reached the door that opened to reveal a large, cold, stone room. It was practically empty except for a desk in the center of it all with a balding old man behind it. His eyes lit up when we entered and he quickly strode towards us.

"Yes." He whispered. "Yes, yes, yes."

He weirded me out. I found myself inching closer to Mando with every step he made. A young scientist came over and scanned the whimpering child with a bright red light.

"Your reputation was not unwarranted..." He grinned and looked towards me, his eyes narrowing. "And who is this?"

"I-"

"How many fobs did you give out?" Mando interrupted.

For once, I was thankful that he cut me off. I was worried that if I told them who I was, they would sweep me away as well. Greef never believed me when I told him that the Empire wasn't completely gone. I couldn't imagine his face if he witnessed this.

The client sighed. "This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery... But to the winner... Go the spoils."

He grabbed a large container and lifted it onto the desk to reveal its treasures. It contained more beskar than I had ever seen in my life. I wasn't even sure there was that much beskar left in the galaxy.

We moved towards the desk to admire the rewards. It was beautiful and more riches than I could have ever imagined, but I couldn't keep it.

I had no use for beskar and it belongs back in the hands of the Mandalorians. I had no place taking the reward at all.

"Such a large bounty for such a small package." The client hissed.

A heart broken cry caught my attention from the other side of the room. While I was busy gaping over the payment, I had completely forgotten about the child. It cried again as it was brought into another room, refusing to take its eyes off of us.

It hurt me to see it so sad.

I turned to see Mando watching the child intensely. Could he have been wondering the same thing I was?

"What are your plans for it?" He asked.

"How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both commission and payment... Is it not the Code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten? That beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor."

My eyes darted across his armor. It was rather beat up and seeing its harsh damage, I assumed it wasn't too durable. A full suit of beskar was fitting for his job, but I would miss his old, rusty fit.

"Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel." The client finished and with a stern glare.

I quickly tore my gaze away from him, occasionally glancing at Mando out of the corner of my eyes. His focus was stuck on the client for a moment longer before he grabbed the reward and we left.

The stormtroopers followed us the entire way out, making me feel incredibly uneasy. Again, I found myself moving closer to Mando and immediately scolding myself for it.

"I have to make a quick stop... I'll meet you at the bar in an hour." He looked down at the container of beskar with a soft, sad tone to his voice. I guess he was going to get an upgrade.

"Right... Listen, Mando, I-"

"We'll talk later." He ended quickly and spun on his heel to leave.

I wanted to run after him, but he was already out of sight. I needed to apologize or just, something. I wasn't sure why I needed him to know that I didn't hate him. If anything, I should just forget he exists and move on with my life.

But I couldn't.

And little did I know, I wouldn't.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #mandalorian #mandalorian x oc #din djarin #din djarin x oc #dyn jarren #jedi #oc #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #babyyoda

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swtorpadawan · 4 years ago

Text

Clothes Make The Jedi

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place in between the Coruscant and Ord Mantell campaigns during the Jedi Knight’s story.

Corellan Halcyon had rarely concerned himself much with his aesthetic appearance.

He’d been raised a Jedi, so he supposed that was to be expected. He understood full well that the clothes he wore, robes or otherwise, were merely a tool, and not a reflection of his own progress as a Jedi. But that did explain why he felt rather self-conscious as he regarded himself in the full-length mirror in his quarters on his ship.

The body armor and robes he had just picked up while docked at Carrick Station were exactly his size; he knew that. Darthyn, the wizened tradesman who shown the set to Corellan, had told him that the armor and robes were known as the Resolute Guardian; a white ceramic breastplate stood out on his chest while smaller plates adorned his shoulders, arms and legs. The robes – clearly marking him as a Jedi – were secured by the utility belt at his waist. The belt and his heavy bracers included every device he was likely to need in the field. He knew the plates wouldn’t stop a direct hit from a high-voltage blaster, much less a lightsaber, but their defense would be adequate against most glancing blows. His boots would absorb the impact of a fall and provide sufficient protection on hostile ground. His two lightsabers were clipped to his belt.

The Defender was docked at Carrick Station, effectively the heart of the Republic’s fleet. Corellan, who had achieved the rank of Jedi Knight just over a week ago, had been ordered by Satele Shan, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, and General Var Suthra of the Galactic Republic military, to prevent Darth Angral, Lord of the Sith, from seizing control of the Republic’s superweapon projects. He was accompanied on his mission by Padawan Kira Carsen, who Master Satele had named his apprentice on Coruscant, and by T7-O1, his devoted astromech droid he’d first teamed with on Tython.

They had stopped at Carrick to refuel, and Corellan had taken the opportunity to obtain the Jedi body armor he now wore from the dispensary at the station. The robes he had been wearing had been adequate enough back on Tython, but after his experiences fighting Vokk on the Emperor’s Glory and later Tarnis on Coruscant, Corellan felt he required more substantial protection if he was going to be regularly testing himself against the Sith.

Teeseven was down in the engine room, tuning up the ship, while Kira was still on Carrick. The padawan had asked to replace her own robes at one of the shops, and he’d seen no reason not to grant her permission. Master Satele had charged him with training and protecting Kira, but that didn’t mean he’d attempt to restrict her on such a minor thing as apparel.

He was still a little nervous about the challenge of training a Padawan, even one as talented and driven as Kira Carsen. After all, he’d been a Padawan himself just days ago. But he couldn’t deny that he and Kira worked well together, and there was every reason to think they could accomplish great things as part of an actual team. As soon as she got back, they would jump to Ord Mantell try to upend Darth Angral’s plans to destroy the Galactic Republic.

He had briefly tested the body suit back on the station and had been convinced that the armor wouldn’t slow him down significantly. The feeling of the material against his skin – and the added weight – still felt unfamiliar, but he trusted that he would adapt in time. Indeed, he seemed to be growing more accustomed to it by the second. Where a moment before he felt some minor discomfort seeing himself in the mirror, he had to admit that he felt more confident than ever in his place as a Jedi Knight. The moment of reflection had served him well. Corellan found himself smiling at his own reflection, now filled him with a renewed sense of confidence in himself and his mission; that he was ready to take on all the Sith had to throw at him.

The moment ended when he heard the airlock door slide shut and light footfalls coming up the steps from the airlock egress. The Jedi Knight turned away from the mirror and ducked out of his quarters as Kira reached the top of the stairwell.

“Well? How do I look?” the Padawan grinned as she caught sight of him, dropping the two parcel bags she’d been carrying and planting her hands on her hips.

Corellan’s jaw dropped.

Kira’s outfit included a utility belt and bracers, but that effectively covered any similarities to the armor Corellan was wearing. The green top featured a V-neck, baring Kira’s throat and no small amount of skin. Her midriff, almost from just beneath her bosom to her belt, was bare. The top did not reach her arms, and she wore gloves, bracers, and binding straps ideal for concealing an extra weapon. Her trousers appeared serviceable but seemed to provide no discernable protection.

“Kinda ambitious, don’t cha think?” she turned around in place before looking back at him.

“Uhm.” was all Corellan could manage. He was dumbstruck.

Kira smirked slightly at his reaction, taking a step forward and arching an eyebrow at him.

“You did say I could pick out my own robes.”

“Well, yes.” Corellan said. “But I’d imagined you’d pick out something more… like robes.”

Kira put her hands back on her hips, this time giving him a questioning look.

“What? You must have seen Jedi on Tython wearing something like this.”

Corellan collected himself, taking in a long breath. This was not a conversation he’d been expecting to have.

“I have.” He admitted. Corellan had indeed seen variations of this garment on a couple of Jedi back on the homeworld, though if he recalled, both had been worn in the field and not while walking the halls of the temple.

“But I’m... uhm. I’m not sure Master Kiwiiks would approve of her padawan wearing it.” He finally said. Bela Kiwiiks, like Satele Shan and Corellan’s own former master, Orgus Din, was a member of the Jedi Council, and therefore one of the wisest and most respected members of the order. She had also been, up until just recently, Kira’s master. Corellan was very mindful that his status of Kira’s master was likely to be a temporary one.

“Master Kiwiiks isn’t here.” She looked up at him with a challenging look. “You are.”

Corellan paused at that, reflecting that Kira had a point. Using Master Kiwiiks as a justification for a decision did seem unreasonable. His deliberations, he remembered from his training, should be based around evidence and reason.

“Wouldn’t something like this offer better protection?” Corellan opened his arms wide to indicate the Jedi body armor he was wearing.

Kira looked down at the armor and frowned, not in anger but in annoyance.

“Full body armor would slow me down.” She answered him with a huff. Clearly, she felt this reality was unfair. “Look – you’re big and strong and… tough. I’ve seen you shrug off hits that would take a lot of people out. Me? I’ve got to rely on my agility and speed. Even the most lightweight bodysuits would do me more harm than good. I need to be able to move and dodge. Be honest, do you really think Master Satele’s outfit would protect better against a lightsaber than what I’m wearing?” she gestured downward.

Corellan chewed that over, trying to maintain eye contact and not following Kira’s downward motion. He knew that Satele Shan – a double-lightsaber duelist like Kira – hadn’t worn battle armor herself during the war, and it was true that she dispensed with robes herself, wearing a vest with trousers. Kira seemed quite correct.

Then again, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order’s outfit did not expose her midriff either.

“… Probably not.” He admitted. “But won’t this distract people?”

Kira folded her arms in front of her and looked at him crossly.

“Who, the Sith?” she snorted. “We should be so lucky. If a Sith gets distracted by what I’m wearing, we’d make short work of them.” she raised a withering eyebrow at him. “Unless you’re saying me wearing this would be a distraction for you?”

Corellan suddenly felt alarm in his mind, as his wrists started sweating. Was it the suggestion that he found Kira’s garment distracting? Or the suggestion that such a distraction would be cause for objecting to what she was wearing? Best not think about that.

“Absolutely not!” He stammered, feeling his face flush in embarrassment.

Kira seemed to be eyeing him, her body language relaxing as she took on an amused look in her eyes.

“Well then?”

Corellan’s training had taken over. Orgus Din had been as pragmatic a Jedi as had ever sat on the Council, and his mind was now going down a mental checklist.

“What about… hostile planets? Ones with colder climates? Won’t this be… uncomfortable for you?”

“No problem.” She grinned, picking up one her deposited parcels and opening it up to show him. “Thermal wear. Full body. I’m not getting frostbite no matter where we have to go.”

Corellan regarded the equipment and was impressed. His own masters had encouraged their students to think ahead, and he should probably be doing the same.

“Okay.” He nodded appreciatively. “I mean, you’ve obviously thought this through. I can’t deny that. But just tell me, why this set specifically?”

“Because this feels comfortable for me.” Kira said earnestly. “And… honestly? Because I can. Don’t get me wrong. Master Kiwiiks has been great to me. She got me out of a bad situation on Nar Shaddaa and took me into the Order. But I always hated those robes she had me wear. For one thing, they made coming out of Force leaps super awkward. For another, they are not at all flattering. This just… feels like me.”

As if to make a point, Kira locked her fingers together then stretched with her arms in the air. Corellan’s eyes widened as they were inevitably drawn downward. The young Jedi Knight suddenly had a feeling of butterflies going through his stomach, feeling himself blink and swallow as he turned away.

His own reaction confused him; was he coming down with something?

Kira glanced at him sideways with a glint in her eye, again observing his reaction as her lips turned upwards into a smirk. He didn’t quite understand what had amused her. Maybe his confusion was that evident?

“So we’re good?” she asked.

“Yeah… we’re good.” Corellan relented, exhaling. It occurred to him that as her Jedi master, he should be impressed that she’d been able to explain her reasoning in such a rational manner. “Maybe I should have picked up a set like that.” He gave a shrug with as much faux nonchalance as he could muster.

Kira snickered.

“I think this outfit would look totally different on you.” She sighed, her eyes giving him a once-over. “Not that it isn’t a tempting thought. Sometimes, the galaxy just isn’t fair.”

Corellan had no idea how to answer this observation, so he clammed up. Kira rolled her eyes at his lack of reaction, and he decided that maybe it was better that he didn’t know.

Satisfied, Kira walked up to him, reaching out and padding his arm.

“Hey – don’t worry. I’m not gonna pull any fast ones on you when we’re, you know, out there. For as long as this… arrangement lasts, I’ll follow your lead in the field. You know what you’re doing, whether you give yourself credit for that or not. You proved that to me on Coruscant.” She shuffled her feet a bit, looking down. “It’s just… this one thing was kind of important to me, you know?”

Corellan nodded appreciatively at her words. He’d been praised already by Master Satele and several other distinguished luminaries already, but somehow, hearing Kira say it after they’d fought side by side meant more.

“I believe that, Kira. And thanks.”

“Anytime. And by the way.” Kira smiled and reached out her hand again, this time gently rapping her knuckles on the breastplates of his body armor. They made a slight plunking sound at the light impact.

“Looks good on you.” She looked up and him and grinned, her deep blue eyes almost sparkling in amusement.

Corellan felt the butterflies in his stomach start to swarm again. And why did his ears feel like they were burning?

“Uhm. Thanks.” Was all he managed to say, suddenly lost in her eyes.

Kira caught his look, her grin widening. then turned away and retrieved her parcels.

“I’ll put these away, and then we’ll head to Ord Mantell?” she asked.

Corellan felt his mouth go dry, but then nodded vigorously.

“Right.”

“Great.” Kira smiled. “See you in two.”

As she headed off for her quarters, Corellan turned slowly and started walking towards the cockpit.

He reminded himself that the body armor he was wearing was merely a tool, and not a reflection of his own progress as a Jedi.

Still, he felt like he had taken a tiny step forward towards whatever destiny the Force had in store for him.

He hoped that he would meet that destiny well with more confidence than this conversation with Kira had.

Author’s Notes: Much has been said of how appropriate certain armor sets are for certain companions in the game. Specifically female companions. This is valid. I see a lot of people running around with Vette or Elara Dorne in slave girl outfits, and it makes my eyes roll. Having said that, I think Kira is absolutely the type of woman who would be comfortable in a crop top, for practical reasons. In case it wasn’t clear, the armor set that Kira is wearing is known as the Ambitious Warrior set, which DOES look totally different on male characters than female characters.

I wanted to show something from earlier in Corellan and Kira’s ‘association’. I know there is an issue of women – particularly young women in school – facing unfair restrictions on their wardrobes due solely to how males around them might react. Corellan – very early in his story – isn’t quite immune to that with respect to Kira, but even now he would never penalize her for making her own choices. He gets that this ‘problem’ is about himself and not Kira or her attire. That, as I see it, is the important part. That we recognize our faults as our own and not those of others.

Kira obviously has a certain influence on Corellan at this point, and she’s probably picking up on that. She’s a good person, however, so she won’t be taking advantage of that fact.

Also, I wanted to show Kira trying to be flirty and it just totally goes over Corellan’s head.

Oh and by the way – Yes, butterflies exist in the Star Wars universe. Thank you, Wookiepedia.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #swtor writing #fanfic #fanfiction #jedi knight #hero of tython #oc: corellan halcyon #kira carsen

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lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache · 4 years ago

Text

Gone

Summary: Din Djarin and Baby Yoda are trapped. Fighting ensues. Welcome to the pain train :)

Rated T: Violence, Major Character Death

Word Count: 5.122k

The Mandalorian had been in so many impossible shootouts, he started to lose track. Something about this one was different. He was surrounded by bounty hunters and stormtroopers alike, with Moff Gideon at the helm of the ambush. The Mandalorian had been in a situation like this all those months ago, with his friends at his side. Déjà vu was probably the correct term for how he’s feeling. Except, Kuill is dead, IG-11 is gone, Greef Karga is still on Nevarro, and Cara Dune isn’t here. It’s just him and the kid.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to get us out of this one Ad’ika,” he said, defeated.

The child’s ears drooped, and he cooed sadly. They were safe for right now, barricaded indoors. Din Djarin took a moment to check his weapons, while the kid cuddled up to his midsection. A blaster burn had scorched his collarbone, and he was doing his best ignore it. The adrenaline rush was helping a lot.

He sent a message to Cara Dune for assistance a while ago, but he wasn’t even sure if she had gotten it yet. Hope that help was on the way, act like there isn’t. Suddenly he had an idea. He had three charges, and if he timed it right, he would be able to kill a lot of the enemies and it would cause a big enough distraction that he could take the kid and run in the opposite direction. This wasn’t a fight he’d be able to win, so escape was the only option.

“Okay Ad’ika. I need you to be quiet, and not squirm too much okay? We’re getting out of here.”

Mando tucked the child into the crook of his left arm. His pulse rifle was strapped to his back, and his blaster was snug in its holster. His heart was pounding. They only had one shot. He took a deep breath and tried to seem reassuring to his kid, who was looking at him with worried eyes. Din Djarin was nauseous. Now or never.

He kicked open the door separating him from the Imperialists and their allies, and he threw a now active charge into the crowd of troopers closest to him and the kid. He didn’t wait to see how many the explosive took out. He turned and ran into the forest that backed the cantina he had used as shelter.

The sound of blaster fire filled his senses. He did his best to dodge the shots, considering they were coming from behind him. After a couple near misses, he activated his next charge and launched it behind him. He heard the explosion and the satisfying screams of dying stormtroopers and bounty hunters. Good. It’s what they deserved.

He put more distance between him and the group chasing after him. They weren’t out of the woods yet. He had one charge left and didn’t want to use it to soon. The kid was relatively calm, the only indication that he was in distress was the distinct droop of his ears. His ship was still so far away, he was beginning to think that they weren’t going to make it. He kept running, his breathing getting sporadic, when a lucky shot hit him in the back of his left arm. The force of the blaster and gravity sent him stumbling forward and he dropped the child when his grip loosened as a reflex from the wound.

The child squealed as he landed with a thud. Shit.

He dove back down to the child to protect him. The shooting stopped. That’s never a good sign. Gideon approached the pair but kept his distance.

“We don’t want to hurt the Asset, Din Djarin.”

Din grit his teeth. His name being spoken out loud (again) after all this time was unsettling. He didn’t trust Moff Gideon or any Imperial’s more than he didn’t trust droids, if that was possible. So, he called bullshit right away. The Mandalorian was never much of a talker, but if he had to talk his way out of this, so be it. He was desperate. Din was never desperate. First time for everything.

He stood up slowly, his left arm hugging his chest. The kid was on the ground, clinging to the back of his leg, hiding from view.

“Then tell me what you want with him. He’s a child.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow in surprise. It almost sounded like the Mandalorian was considering negotiations. He would indulge Djarin, and then he would kill him and take the Asset anyway.

“We want to understand him. You know of his power, I’m sure of it. We want to discover why he has this power. He’s fifty, but young for his species. If we can harness that power, at a young age… the Empire could rise once more. We can’t do that very well if he’s harmed, now can we?” Gideon said. What the Mandalorian didn’t know, is that he was lying through his teeth.

There were other Force users in the galaxy. The Empire, or a shell of the Empire would rise once again regardless of the asset. The asset posed a threat, however. The remaining Imperials had hoped to convert the Asset to their side, to ensure the longevity of the new Empire. If not, then the Asset was to be eliminated. Obviously, it was of more value alive, but Gideon had no qualms about putting an end to it here and now.

“Give us the child, and you both walk away from this.”

Din Djarin would not hand the kid over. He couldn’t.

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.” With no warning, Moff Gideon pulled out the Darksaber.

Now acutely aware of just how hopeless this was, he activated his last charge and launched it into the crowd behind Moff Gideon. During the split-second distraction of the explosion, he pulled out his blaster and started firing.

Gideon ducked behind his troopers, waiting.

This was definitely the least pleasant fight the Mandalorian had ever been in. He couldn’t outrun them, so this was his last stand. He was essentially a human shield, using his Beskar covered body to protect his Ad’ika.

Every blaster bolt that hit the Beskar made the armor heat up to the point where it was almost unbearable. Thank the stars that troopers were awful shots, or he never would have lasted as long as he did. He was surprisingly efficient; despite being relatively grounded to one spot (the kid still hadn’t let go of his boot). He was only a man though, and he was exhausted. A particularly nasty shot hit him just below the knee, where the Beskar didn’t cover. His leg buckled underneath him, and he hissed in pain.

The kid chirped worriedly and started to peek around from behind the Mandalorian.

“Don’t! Stay behind me, I’m fine.”

As usual, the kid didn’t listen to him, but Djarin was being overwhelmed. Every time he shot a trooper down, another one took its place. A sea of blaster bolts shot towards him at the same time. He couldn’t dodge all of those. The child came out from behind Din and raised his little arms.

Time stilled.

The blaster bolts slowed in their approach towards the Mandalorian and stopped mere centimeters from him. The child opened his eyes, and with a flick of his tiny wrists, sent the bolts careening backwards. Many hit their marks. A lot of them scattered, seeing the Force in action for the first time. It helped but it wasn’t enough. Oddly, the kid didn’t pass right out. Maybe he knew how dire this was. The kid was a warrior, protecting the injured Mandalorian from getting shot again. Din resumed shooting at the plethora of stormtroopers that remained.

What he didn’t see, was that Gideon had snuck around to the side of the child and the Mandalorian. With a blaster in one hand, and the Darksaber in the other, he was hard to miss. They noticed too late. Gideon leveled his blaster, aiming at the space in between the Mandalorian’s helmet and his pauldron. If his aim was true, he’d hit Din clean through the neck. An inevitable kill shot.

The child launched another volley of blaster bolts back into the stormtroopers. Moff Gideon shifted his blaster and pulled the trigger.

The Mandalorian watched in horror as the child flew backwards, and light green fluid soaked through his robes. When his Ad’ika hit the ground, eyes closed, and unmoving, Din Djarin saw red.

With strength he didn’t know he had, he got up on his feet and turned towards Moff Gideon. If looks could kill, Gideon would be dead a hundred times over. He ran towards Gideon, rapidly firing at him. Swinging the Darksaber, Gideon managed to block the shots.

The Mandalorian was simmering with rage. He would never be able to get close with the Darksaber in Gideon’s possession. He thought fleetingly of Xi’an. Switching his blaster to his left hand, he yanked his vibroblade out of his boot. He kept shooting, distracting the Moff who clearly wasn’t entirely experienced with the unique weapon. Xi’an taught him to be almost as precise with small blades as she was. The anger that fueled him, made up the difference. With all the hate and anger he could muster; he skillfully flung the vibroblade so it slashed Moff Gideon across the throat. Gideon’s eyes widened in shock, and he sank to his knees. The Darksaber slipped from his grasp, deactivating before it made contact with the ground.

The Mandalorian stormed forward and retrieved his vibroblade from the ground. He eyed the Darksaber and picked that up too. He made eye contact with Gideon, who had a silent plea forming on his lips.

‘End it.’

That was too easy. Gideon was going to choke on his own blood (good), and it was still too pleasant of a death for him. Din Djarin activated the Darksaber.

“This belongs to the Mandalorians.”

Rapid fire could be heard from behind the Mandalorian and he whirled around, saber raised. Some of the tension poured out of his shoulders when he realized that backup had arrived. Cara Dune was piloting a gunship, raining hellfire on the stormtroopers who just watched one of their bosses get killed.

Djarin was going to be relieved, but he remembered why he killed Gideon. Anger bubbling up again, he examined the Darksaber that was now in his possession. He would make quick work of this. Adrenaline at an all-time high, he ran right into the sea of stormtroopers, putting the blade through anyone that was close enough. He went absolutely feral. He may have gotten shot a few times (again), but if he did, he didn’t notice.

He cut down stormtroopers one by one until there was only a handful left. Cara had landed the ship in a clearing and raced towards the scene with her blaster drawn. She shot down the remaining troopers and scanned frantically for Din. When she saw him, she was unsettled? Maybe scared was a better word. His back was towards her, so she had to get closer to realize what was going on. He was beating the shit out of a stormtrooper who was clearly, very dead.

“Mando?” she approached him worriedly.

He ignored her. Or maybe he didn’t hear her. She couldn’t tell. He was unhinged, that’s for certain. She put her blaster in her holster and continued to cautiously creep near him. The last thing she wanted was to startle him.

“Djarin?”

The only answer she received was a grunt, but that was probably because he kicked the fallen trooper. She noticed an unhealthy amount of crimson darkening his sleeve, his collarbone, and his leg. That doesn’t include the blood dripping down his breastplate. She didn’t know if it was his own or the stormtrooper’s. Probably a mixture of both.

“Din!”

In the blink of an eye, he had the Darksaber pointed at her throat. She put her hands up in an attempt to placate the Mandalorian. She couldn’t see his face, but turmoil was radiating off him in waves. As if he suddenly realized who he was threatening. He deactivated the Darksaber and dropped it at his side.

He swayed unsteadily and collapsed.

“Whoa!” Cara rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”

He couldn’t answer. How could he?

“That sword. That was the one Moff Gideon stole right? Where is he?”

Din raised his good arm shakily and pointed in the direction she just came from. She helped him up, and they slowly trudged to Gideon.

“It's okay, I gotcha.”

About twenty feet from where Gideon was slain, Djarin stopped moving. He pointed in the same direction that they were going but made it clear that he would not be accompanying her. Cara gave him a quizzical look but figured that he was more hurt than he let on, so she let it slide.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, what she hoped sounded reassuringly. What the hell happened to make him like this? He seemed detached. Like he wasn’t all there. She saw Gideon’s body, and smiled grimly. The son of a bitch was dead. Brutal death, but it was probably better than he deserved.

Satisfied, she returned to the Mandalorian, just to find him on his knees, his back towards her once again. If she squinted, she could have sworn that she saw him shaking.

As she neared him, she could tell he was holding something small. Halting to a stop right behind him, she peered over his shoulder and her heart sank, a strong wave of nausea hitting her.

“Oh god,” she groaned.

She understood now. The kid. He was gone.

Din just stared at the child, his brain short circuiting. He heard Cara call his name. She was right behind him, so why did she sound like she was a million miles away?

“Din? I’m going to get your ship, okay? I had to crash the gunship and I passed it. I’ll bring it back here and then we have to leave.”

She had to give him time alone. Nothing may change, but he certainly wasn’t going to react or do anything if she was around. He needed time. It wouldn’t be enough, but she wasn’t sure all the time in the world could help him now.

Once Cara was gone, Din cradled the child close to his chest.

“Ad’ika,” he murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His voice was tight with emotion. He had spent decades learning to stuff his feelings in a box and throw away the key. He wasn’t about to stop now.

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad,” he whispered. He should have said it sooner.

By the time Cara made it back, the Mandalorian was back on his feet. He had laid the child to rest in the forest. She didn’t expect him to answer, but she had to ask after he boarded the Razor Crest.

“Are you okay?” she regretted it as soon as she asked. Of course, he wasn’t okay. In a weak attempt to cover it up, she added, “Physically?”

He was in the cargo hold of his ship, where Cara had joined him once she put the ship on autopilot. They were going back to Nevarro. He was sitting on the floor, his head tilted back against the wall. He was quiet for a moment.

“I’m not sure. I can’t feel anything, so that’s probably not good.”

Cara blanched. He was probably in shock. She didn’t know if it was because of the kid, or the amount of blood he lost, or the trauma of it all. Before she could ask another question, he blacked out.

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When Djarin woke, he wasn’t on the Razor Crest. His arm was in a sling, and there was a bacta pad on his collarbone and his leg. He hurt everywhere. Groaning he sat up, and it all came rushing back.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Greef Karga was sitting by the end of the cot. “You had Cara and I worried there.”

“I take it we made it to Nevarro okay?” His voice was surprisingly steady.

Cara came in with food, and a jug of water.

“Yeah we did. Listen, you’ve been out for a few days, so you need to eat. Karga and I will leave you be for a while, but then we need to talk.”

Djarin nodded his head once, in silent confirmation. Relieved that he didn’t put up a fight, his friends shuffled out of the room. In one swift motion, he pulled his helmet off and placed it on the bed next to him. The rest of his Beskar was cleaned and placed neatly in a pile on a table in the corner. His stomach growled and he noticed how hungry he was. He did his best to eat slow, but he ended up throwing it all up anyway. The water he could handle. Shortly after he donned his helmet, there was a knock at the door.

“Is it safe to come in?” Karga asked.

“Yes.”

Cara entered, followed by Greef and they both looked nervous. They kept glancing at each other and fidgeting.

“What is it?” Din sighed.

Cara cleared her throat.

“What you went through was- is, a lot. What are you going to do now?”

He blinked. What is he going to do now? Oh right. He didn’t have to worry about the kid anymore. He would go back to his clan- oh right. The Imperials came through and killed them. His focus shifted to Karga.

“Am I still welcome back in the Guild?”

Greef looked taken aback.

“Of course, Mando! That offer has no expiration date. Though I do recommend you wait a bit until your arm has healed.”

He looked at Dune. “I’m a bounty hunter. I’m going to keep bounty hunting.”

Okay. She didn’t have to like it, but it was his decision.

“Are you going to take care of yourself?”

Now he was annoyed. “I’ve made it this far.”

“You know what I mean," she said seriously.

“No, I don’t Cara! Stop dancing around the subject. If you want to say it, say it!” The Mandalorian raised his voice.

“You haven’t talked about it, about him at all. It’s not normal. It’s not healthy,” Cara said.

Djarin was getting mad. She was trying to pry the box open. He kept it locked for a reason. Except, this time it cracked. Just a little bit, but it still cracked.

“What do you want me to say Cara? The child is dead, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it? He’s gone. It’s over. I can’t change the past, and neither can you.” He calmed as he spoke.

He took his arm out of the sling, testing his range of motion. Pretty good considering the minimal amount of bacta that was applied. He grabbed the Beskar from the desk and put it all back on. Even his signet, which he had somehow unearned.

Imagine that. The only Mandalorian in the history of Mandalore to earn a signet and have it unearned in a matter of months. He shook his head and huffed, almost laughing at himself. It would be him of all people.

“Greef, how many pucks do you have on you right now?”

Karga looked through his pockets.

“Eight,” he supplied.

“Good,” the Mandalorian said. “I’ll take them all.”

Karga offered him the pucks, without objecting. He knew the Mandalorian needed this. That’s how it usually goes. Keep busy, and you might not fall apart. Before he left Cara Dune and Greef Karga in the hotel room, he stopped in the doorway.

“Thank you both. For everything.”

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Six Months Later:

Business was booming. The Mandalorian was now the most widely known, successful bounty hunter in the galaxy. He was different now. Cold. Calculating. A shell of the man he used to be. It didn’t matter. Cara called him out on it, and he retaliated. It’s safe to say that they weren’t friends anymore.

The Mandalorian very rarely, if ever stepped foot on Nevarro anymore either. Client’s would contact him directly if they wanted a job done, so he hadn’t seen Greef either. He probably never would, unless someone placed a bounty on Karga.

His work became his life. He hardly found the thrill in it anymore. But he did what he had to do to survive. Some days were hard. He would open the panel of the compartment of his ship where the kid used to be safely tucked away. Then he remembered that the kid wasn’t hiding. He was gone. He looked for the kid everywhere he went. He knew he wouldn’t find him. The kid was dead, and he had buried him.

He had just returned from his last job, and currently there weren’t any more scheduled for him. He did that on purpose. Like he said, some days were hard. But every night was hard. He found himself dreading sleep. He would get a good two or three hours of rest, when nightmares of that day would tear him out of his slumber. He tried to go days at a time without sleep. He succeeded. The less sleep he got, the sloppier he was on his jobs. The amount of times he’s used his cauterizer in the last week was testament enough. At this rate, he would be all burnt flesh by the end of the year.

So, for the first time in his life, he had a clear schedule. Hopefully, he would be able to catch up on sleep, and then pick up another job. He wasn’t optimistic, but he had to try.

He set the Razor Crest to autopilot, to crawl around in deep space. He removed the Darksaber from his belt and placed it on the cot next to him. Paranoia would never really leave him.

He closed his eyes, and let exhaustion take over.

~ It was raining blaster fire. Cara had showed up earlier here. The odds were looking in to be in their favor. Din genuinely smiled. He thought this was the end. It was far from it. Suddenly an odd light glinted in his peripheral vision.

Moff Gideon had the Darksaber.

Recognition of the weapon and its history sent tendrils of anger shooting throughout his body. Gideon would pay for that. He wanted to kill him.

Then he noticed the blaster pointing at the child.

“NO!”

He launched himself in front of the child, and the blaster bolt ricocheted off of the corner of his pauldron. He didn’t notice that Gideon had shifted the gun to shoot at him instead. His movement had deadly consequences.

A sickening feeling worked its way into his throat, and he tasted bile. He turned his head slowly to look at the child who was lying face first in the ground next to him, his robes smoking from the heat of the shot.

Din dropped to his knees. This was his fault. ~

The dreams were always different, but they always ended with the same line.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Ad’ika."

He woke up with a gasp and shot up like a rocket. He placed his helmeted head in his hands. Apparently, he was going to suffer indefinitely. Frustrated, he went back to the cockpit. Maybe if he went to a market or something, he could purchase sleeping pills or some other form of medication that would save him from his endless nightmares.

He’s tired, on edge and frustrated, so when looks at the Mythosaur pendant that the child used to wear around his neck once upon a time, a little bit longer than normal as it dangles from the ceiling in the cockpit, he grips the lever a little too hard, and the knob pops right off and in to his hand. This tiny, insignificant ball should not make him hurt this much.

He stood up and threw it to the back of his ship. He wanted it out of his sight. He returned to his seat, the silence nearly suffocating. He wouldn’t kill anyone ever again if he could get his Ad’ika back. Maybe if he wasn’t so sleep-deprived, he would have noticed sooner. A few minutes later he realized that he never heard the ball clang when the metal hit the metal of his ship.

He quickly withdrew his blaster and turned around, side-stepping the pilot’s seat.

“The toy I’ve heard so much about, this is?”

Din Djarin scanned the cockpit and saw no one until he glanced at the floor. He froze. A much older version of the same species as the child was in front of him. There was a cane in one hand, and the knob-turned-toy in the other. He couldn’t be much more than two feet tall, and he was green, but tinged blue. Almost like a ghost. He shook his head.

“Now I know I’ve lost it.”

The creature laughed.

The Mandalorian tried blinking a few times to make it go away. It stayed.

“Yoda, I am. Real, this is.”

Yoda used the Force to send the ball back into the Mandalorian’s hand. Djarin caught it and clenched his fist around it. Wait a minute.

“How did you know about the toy?”

Yoda laughed again.

“Many things I know, Din Djarin.”

Din tensed.

“Why are you here? I… couldn’t protect one of your kind, if that’s why.” He was lost. He might actually be crazy. Or he managed to fall back asleep, and this was another dream.

Yoda sobered up at his confession.

“Your best, you did.”

Din leaned against the side of the pilot’s seat and sighed heavily.

“It was all for nothing. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.” Months of pent up emotional pain bled through his voice.

“Fail, you did. Your fault, it was not.”

His head snapped up at that.

“Then who’s fault was it?” he asked angrily.

Yoda looked around, taking in his surroundings.

“The will of the Force, it was.”

The Force. That was the power or sorcery that the child had. He scoffed at the thought that the ‘Force’, would want a baby to die. He came to terms that he was indeed, speaking to a dead person. They stood in silence for a long time. When it became clear that neither of them were going to speak, Din turned around and looked at the stars passing by through the front window. After a few minutes, he pulled the Mythosaur pendant down and stared at it. There was a pattern with him, he noticed. He had everything, he lost it all. He had everything, he lost it all. And it continued to repeat.

His parents.

His clan.

His friends.

His kid.

Yoda watched the Mandalorian sadly. He felt the darkness in him, which had fought relentlessly to snuff out the light his whole life. Only now, the darkness was winning.

“Highly of you, Ad’ika thinks.”

Din Djarin went rigid, and nearly cut his hand with the pendant.

“What?” he whispered.

A very familiar, sorely missed babbling noise filled the cockpit. Djarin switched the pendant to his left hand and gripped the headrest of the pilot’s chair to steady himself. He felt his eyes betray him as they burned with unshed tears. The babbling noise got closer. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to turn around.

“Please, I can’t. I can’t do this,” he whispered again. He wanted to wake up now. It was worse, somehow, knowing that this wasn’t a dream. A soft tug of his cape convinced him to turn around slowly, steeling himself. He looks down at the floor and sank to his knees.

The kid was right there. Right in front of him. His clothes lacked the bloodstains that the Mandalorian had last seen on him, and the child was glowing a faint blue color, just like Yoda.

“Ad’ika?”

The kid’s ears perked up, and he made the grabby motions with his hands. He wanted to be picked up.

Mando looked to Yoda, who was silently observing. Seeking confirmation. Can you even touch a ghost? Yoda gave a slight nod, and Din went for it. He scooped up the kid and the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. The child squealed happily as Djarin held him close to his chest, squeezing a bit harder than he should have. He couldn’t help it. The helmet masked the tears that finally escaped him. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” he said. He was grateful, obviously. But it didn’t make sense. Yoda cleared his throat.

“Missed you, he has.”

A lump formed in the Mandalorian’s throat. He looked down at the ghost of a child who was gnawing on the top of his breastplate.

“I missed you too, Ad’ika.” His voice cracked when he spoke. He sat there holding the child, stroking his big ears with his fingers.

He listened as Yoda did his best to explain something that Din couldn’t fully grasp yet. The Force connects all things. No one is ever really gone. Force users can come back and interact with the living under certain circumstances. Apparently, Ad’ika cried non-stop when he couldn’t find the Mandalorian. Yoda taught the child about his abilities and how to manifest as a Force ghost, so he could go find his lost guardian. Force ghosts could only interact with the living sporadically.

However, he may have hinted that it was much easier to appear in dreams and interact with the living that way. Djarin’s breath hitched. The child squirmed out of Djarin’s hold and waddled to the mythosaur pendant which found its way to the floor amidst the reunion. He picked it up and held it out towards Din, a questioning look on his face as he babbled.

“A-ga da a-ba?”

Din took the pendant and tied it around the child as a necklace.

“Why don’t you hang on to that? It’s yours.”

The child immediately stuck it into his mouth. The Mandalorian laughed.

“Time for us to go, it is,” Yoda said solemnly. “See him again, you will.”

Djarin’s heart sank, but he nodded. Before they disappeared, the child placed a three-fingered hand on the back of the Mandalorian’s hand.

“Ba-ba bu, buh!” The kid shook his head in frustration and tried again. “a-ga… dada!”

The Mandalorian started.

“I-” he had so many questions. Did the kid know what he was saying? It was just baby talk. Then the kid dropped this on him just before both ghosts vanished.

“Boo-Bu-eer. Buir!”

His heart stopped. Long after they faded, he kept replaying it in his mind.

Buir.

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Mando’a Translations: Ad’ika: little one, son, daughter, of any age Buir: father/mother Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad: Adoption vow; I know your name as my child Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal*. Followed by repetition of loved ones' name(s).

#the mandalorian #mando #mando fanfiction #baby yoda #sad hours #pain train #angst #heavy angst #please dont hate me #im sorry #but i had to #din djarin #bittersweet ending

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monster-closet · 4 years ago

Text

The Things We Carry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 is up!

Pairing: Younger Mando x badass female OC

Summary: Takes place 15 years before The Child and plays with the hints dropped by Xi’an, Qin and Ran about Mando’s past during ep. 6. Imagines what Mando might have been like as a young man, maybe looking for fulfillment outside of The Way - while fielding Xi'an's advances and trying to crack the cold exterior of a female OC who urges him not to abandon his vow.

Ratings/Warnings: General, for now.

Words: 2.2K

Notes: This is a super-slow burn with plenty of angst. Hope you enjoy!

Pronunciation of OC's name, Solveig Riis: [soul-vay reese]

Read this and more chapters on AO3

“Mando!”

Ranzar Malk. Fifteen years later, and here he is, much stouter than before and with even more hair. It doesn’t take the Mandalorian to use his binocs to see that Ran, who is only seven years older, has aged poorly, huffing toward him with an unsteady gait.

Ran brings him around to the others – a smug human called Mayfeld and a hulking Devaronian named Burg. They bluster, gloat and insult, which only makes the Mandalorian seethe contempt beneath the helmet. Ran hasn’t changed a bit: He’d always been a sweet talking bastard whose approach to life was “slam spice and hope for the best.” Not to mention always surrounding himself with the lowest of the low. In fact, the Mandalorian wonders if Ran hasn’t had one snort too many in the years that have passed.

A droid appears and Mayfeld introduces him as Zero, their pilot. The Mandalorian's entire body tenses. If he wasn’t on the run and so low on credits, he’d excuse himself right now.

“I thought you said you had four,” he growls.

Then he hears it. Her voice. Syrupy, angry and bemused all at once.

“He does.”

The Mandalorian turns to see the familiar blue-skinned Twi'lek twirling a knife and looking like she hadn't aged a day. He hadn't expected her to be here, for all her past talk about leaving Ran's outfit. But here she is. Had she stayed on all this time?

"Xi'an," he rasps.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand?”

The Twilek slashes her knife through the air, landing it just below his throat. The Mandalorian doesn’t move. He knows this game too well.

“Nice to see you too.”

Xi’ans face splits into a laugh.

Beneath the armour, the Mandalorian stiffens, the sight of her brings up feelings of guilt, disgust and anger. He keeps a careful watch on those slippery hands. He is wiser now to keep his distance. The rest of them continue quipping about Xi'an and Mando's rumoured past. Accused of being broken-hearted by the Mandalorian’s departure so many years ago, Xi’an sidesteps, sarcasm spewing from every word.

“Oh I’m all business now. Learned from the best.”

The Mandalorian knows exactly what she's talking about, but he acts as if he doesn't.

"If you’re done your reunion,” Ran says, pulling Mando away from Xi’an, “There's someone else from the old crew that's here." Ran ticks his head toward his right.

The Mandalorian follows the gesture. Then, he sees her.

A woman steps out from the shadows like she has done in his dreams for fifteen years. But this is real.

He feels as though all air has been sucked out of his helmet. She was attractive then, but she has grown even more striking since. This day has gone from bad to worse.

Ran ushers the newcomer to their circle, her face implacable as she shrugs off the portly man’s hands. Her expression is flat, without emotion or expression like the first time he met her all those years ago. Perhaps she has not changed much, he thinks.

They look each other over in silence.

"Riis," he says, finally.

"Mando."

* * *

The Mandalorian remembered the first time he saw her. And it was a meeting just like this.

After leaving the Fighting Corps of his clan, he had set out looking for a purpose beyond what his people taught him. Of course, he’d never told his Buir this; he had been grateful to him and the Mandalorians for taking him in. It had been ten years since he’d sworn The Creed, which was easy to do then, as eager as he was to belong. But now, at 23, he had questioned it more times than he wanted to admit. And although The Way eliminated the need to question his purpose, he still wondered what his place was among the Mandalorians. He still wanted to know what life with his parents would have been like if they’d lived. Thinking about them still hurt; it angered him that he couldn’t let his past go and be the Mandalorian his Buir wanted him to be. And he hated himself for it.

He had met Ran at a seedy cantina on Savareen where he was looking for his next job, the last one having been a mindless position as a rich man’s bodyguard. Ranzar Malk, as he was called in full, was a heavy-set human, about thirty years old, with a long, rectangular face and a distinct, very large halo of curly hair. They became acquainted after getting into a cantina fight with a couple of goons looking for trouble. Afterwards, the loud and boisterous Ran offered him a place on his team, where he promised more exciting work and better pay.

The Mandalorian, with no other opportunity, took the offer and had taken the Razor Crest to the coordinates Ran had given him. Now he was here, at Ran’s outpost, being introduced to his crew.

While Ran was running his mouth, Din took a preliminary sweep of the others. There were two males: one Nikto, the other a Twi’lek. They looked like common space scum and dismissed them entirely. Another Twi’lek, a female, glowed blue in the fluorescent lighting of the hangar. She was balancing a dagger on her fingertip and looking up at him, she smiled – a mouth full of sharp teeth. He noted to be careful around her. They were young, like him, save for the Nikto whose age he could not tell. It was a rag-tag crew to be sure, but he knew working with them would be different. They were not Mandalorians, after all. Those with whom he had fought alongside followed the same code, upheld the same standards of honour. And this is why he’d left the covert. He wanted to test what he knew in the outside world, to scrape steel against steel, and see if The Way would hold true. Then he would know if it was all worth it.

Concluding his assessment of the crew, the Mandalorian was about to bring his attention back to Ran when something lit up in his HUD. A heat signature? He turned it off and peered into the shadows. To his surprise, he made out the form of a young woman sitting stone-still, partly concealed by a tall stack of crates.

Beneath the helmet, the Mandalorian frowned. It irked him that it took the HUD to pick up her presence; no one had ever escaped his notice. Strange, too, was the way the woman was staring back at him unblinking and challenging. Her eyes had caught his, even if she didn’t know it. And not once did her face flinch or bare any emotion, still as she was, like a statue.

Perhaps joining this crew would be more interesting than he had thought. A non-Mandalorian, her face like a mask. But her body, tensed and coiled, announced: I’m ready. Had this been in his covert, he would have taken this as an invitation for an introduction by friendly combat. But, she was not Mandalorian, and he was told that outside the covert, starting a fight with a stranger was not an advisable way to make new friends.

Pity, he thought, as he followed Ran away from the crew. He regretted not having had the chance to introduce himself.

* * *

That night, while the crew was having third meal, the Mandalorian watched the group more carefully. Because he had already eaten in his quarters, he had seated himself in an empty corner with a clear view of the galley. It was to be expected that Gorgo, the biggest of them, was always dominating the room physically, while the other, the Twi’lek male named Qin, used his sardonic humour to cut the other one down. Then there was his sister, Xi’an, who slithered between them all like a snake, and the quiet one, whose gaze had challenged him in the docking bay – the one who went by a single name: Riis.

She was now sitting alone in the corner opposite him, cradling her supper between her arms. Her attention was absorbed in a handheld data pad while she ate, displaying nothing on her face again but an expressionless mask. It was brighter in the galley than where he had first seen her, revealing almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones set in an angular face, across which was sprinkled a few freckles. Her hair, framing her face, was black and hung like a curtain around her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than 19 or 20.

A flash of blue, and the female Twi’lek seated herself diagonally from him, blocking his study of the enigmatic Riis.

Xi’an.

“Well,” drawled the Twi’lek in a sing-song, her smile all teeth.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet slightly. After a silence, he volleyed her words back. “Well, what?”

“A Mandalorian,” she said.

When he said nothing, she continued. “Thought your kind was the stuff of bedtime stories: ‘Watch out for the big, scary Mandos. They’ll steal you away if you’ve been bad!’ ” she pantomimed claws with her own sharp nails. The Mandalorian remained still, listening. “Or, as the legends say, ‘Feared and deadly ones, warriors . . . with honour!’ ” She moaned the last word dramatically, exhaling it toward his visor.

It didn’t faze him that this Twi’lek had just mocked his kind. He had been warned that outsiders would insult and provoke him because of the armour, because of who he was.

“This is the Way,” was all he said.

Xi’an snickered. “The Way,” she parroted. “And this,” gesturing to his armour, “is also ‘The Way’?”

The thought of The Creed led him down a path of memories. He answered offhandedly, “It is the core of who we are.”

Xi’an’s mocking voice interrupted his thoughts. “The core, you say? The armor, it’s just a shell. The core, who you really are, is underneath all this Durasteel.”

“I’ll admit, though,” she continued when he remained silent, “you are quite the sight.” She licked her red lips, appraising him with her eyes.

The way she looked at him was intriguing. No woman from his covert had looked at him like this before, obviously because he could not see their eyes. His mouth went dry, and he felt his heart beating too hard, too fast. Still, he remained stiff and motionless even as Xi’an leaned in.

“C’mon,” she hissed. “Let’s have a peek.”

The boldness of such a request made the Mandalorian scoff.

Suddenly, there was a sharp blade between them. Xi’an held a small knife to his chest plate. She cocked her head, her lips curling into a vicious smile.

“Maybe you need some help,” she purred, before deftly prying the sharp tip under the chest plate, holding it between two of his ribs.

There was a heavy silence as others in the room turned to watch. The Mandalorian didn’t move, but he felt his blood searing through his veins, white hot. Any attempt from another to remove his armour was seen as a capital offense.

Swiftly, he seized her wrist and twisted it fast and hard. Xi’an’s face contorted in pain as she released the blade, giving the Mandalorian the opportunity to snatch it with his other hand. He was now edging the knife on the soft, blue skin of her throat. This insolent Twi’lek - it would be so easy to run the blade across . . .

“No thanks,” he rasped, controlling himself.

“My apologies,” Xi’an simpered. “Of Mandalorians, I’m very ignorant. I have lots to learn,” she said with mock innocence.

The Mandalorian kept the knife pressed against her throat. Xi’an was breathless, staring up at him with big, wide eyes. It was as though she was enjoying it. He gazed down her exposed neck – so much skin – down to the plummeting neckline of her shirt. He swallowed silently, then pushed her away.

“A Mandalorian’s armour is sacred,” he said reclining back on his seat. He turned the knife, balancing it on two fingers. “It is never to be removed by another.”

“So it never comes off?” she asked, pointing to his helmet.

“In public, never,” he repeated.

“ ‘Never’ doesn’t sound like fun.”

“This is The Way,” he repeated.

Xi’an crossed her arms and blew a raspberry. In response, the Mandalorian folded up her knife and handed it back to her. She grudgingly palmed it and settled back against her chair all while attempting to look nonchalant and relaxed like a well-fed Loth-cat.

“Don’t tell me you’re another stick-in-the mud,” she said, gesturing at Riis. “What’s a girl gotta do for some fun around here?”

From across the room came the other woman’s voice. “I know,” They looked up to see Riis approaching, her face as inscrutable as before. She tossed her data pad to Xi’an. “Do some kriffing work,” As she was nearly out of the galley, she added, “And consider flirting without knives. Maybe.”

If Riis had turned around, she would have seen Xi’an’s face colour a deeper shade of blue and the Mandalorian tilt his helmet with a scoff.

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Mando’a Translation: Buir - parent, guardian

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Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! There are many more to come. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.

I’m rather new on tumblr so forgive me if I don’t figure out how to interact with you, lol. Geez, I feel old.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #mandalorian x oc #mandalorian fanfic #slow burn #drunk mando #get your shit together mando #angsty mando

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