#din's not force sensitive though so how would that work

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 9: Boots

Word Count: 2009 Rating: General Summary: Raising a Force-sensitive child is not an easy task, especially one as mischievous as Grogu. When the little guy decides to play a game of hide and seek without telling you and Din first, you find him in a place that you would never have expected. Content Warnings: Panic of temporarily losing a child is explored. Author's Note: I just love the mental image of Din being a Stressed Out Dad. I know Grogu is driving him crazy in that cabin!

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

Having a Force-sensitive child toddling around, especially one so powerful as Grogu, frequently made for some amusing and unconventional parenting situations. How could one discipline a child who could run rings around his caregivers with his mind? To most people. Grogu probably appeared to be helpless, but you and Din knew all too well that was not the case. The little green child had been known to steal extra portions off yours and Din’s plates at mealtimes to test your patience, apparently just because he felt like it, despite Din always reminding him to mind his manners and be respectful of others. Locking away sweet treats and cookies did not work either, as it would for other children: Grogu was able to pick any lock or bypass any door.

For the most part, you and Din let him be. He had an adorable disposition and you were happy to spoil Grogu and indulge his cheekiness. Despite how innocent he looked, you both knew he had seen far more horror in his lifetime than one of his size should have done. You could tell that not being able to communicate with Grogu in a traditional sense, with words, was something that Din struggled with. You were always there to reassure Din that he was the best possible father Grogu could have, whenever his insecurities reared their ugly head. Even though the two had never had a conversation, they had their own way of communicating and understanding each other. Din and Grogu's bond was very special and it was a true honour that you were able to observe how deeply their love ran for each other. 

With all of that in mind, you were not unduly concerned when you and Din had woken up from an impromptu nap that the two of you had taken to discover that Grogu was not where you had last seen him: playing with his toys on the rug beside the couch you had both drifted off on, cuddled up to each other. Din had only returned from his latest assignment with the New Republic in the early hours of the morning, so a nap had proved an incredibly tempting prospect. Plus, you found that you always slept better when you had your favourite Mandalorian to cuddle. 

It was your other favourite Mandalorian, though, who was the current cause of your anguish. You and Din knew that Grogu could not have gotten far because he only had little legs, after all. Plus, R5 was stationed at the perimeter of the cabin, ready to alert Din of any intruders, thanks to a connection to his vambrace. You tried not to panic as you untangled yourself from Din and climbed off the couch, ready to find out where Grogu had gotten to. But your heart was already beginning to race when you could not catch sight of him anywhere. Plus, there was the fact that you felt guilty that you had suggested you and Din lie down to begin with.

The most likely outcome was that Grogu had toddled down the hallway to his room and snuggled up in his crib, for a nap all of his own. But as Din searched the kitchen and you walked the short distance down the hallway to Grogu’s room, you felt the bile rising in your throat as you discovered that he was nowhere to be seen.

“Did you find him?” Din called from the kitchen, you noted how even Din’s voice sounded and your heart ached as you realised that this was not going to have the quick solution that you wanted so desperately to be able to give him.

“No!” You replied, bracing yourself to project calmness as you heard Din’s footsteps thundering down the hallway towards the room. 

“Dank farrik!” Din muttered harshly, lifting up a few blankets and clothes that were littered on the floor of Grogu’s room, just to check that the errant child was not hiding under one of them. But, alas, it was another fruitless search. Din let out a heavy sigh and you felt terrible when you saw the way his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Before you could move to comfort Din, though, he promptly turned on his heel and walked the short distance across the hallway to the room you two shared and began searching there. You crept through the door timidly and watched as Din lifted the blankets on your cot to search underneath. You noticed how his movements were becoming increasingly frantic and the pang of guilt you felt threatened to overwhelm you. But you knew you had to remain composed and not panic, so you threw yourself into assisting with the search. 

You yanked open the various cupboards that were fixed to the wall of the room that you shared with Din, but the only sight that greeted you was the familiar sights of your personal items and folded clothes. Every cupboard you opened without seeing the familiar sight of Grogu’s big green ears only compounded your terror, your legs felt as though they were fully shaking now, your blood running cold. Finally, you ran out of places to look. You turned around to face Din and felt your chest ache even more at the sight of him. His brows were knitted together, brown eyes pained with worry.

“Din, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault,” You mumbled, losing your battle to maintain your composure as your lower lip began to wobble and hot tears burnt harsh trails down your warm cheeks.

“Cyare, no,” Din said, his concern for you immediate. He strode across the room, closing the distance between the two of you and grabbed your arms gently above your elbows, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Grogu is the one who wandered off, not you. He’s probably hiding somewhere in the cabin, his idea of a game. It isn’t the first time he’s done this. We’re going to find him, okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded, determinedly. Din’s words had soothed the ache in your chest as you were reminded of the time that you found Grogu hiding in a shelving unit in the kitchen, having Force leapt into there while you and Din had been distracted dishing up a meal that you had spent hours preparing. By the time you had finally sat down to eat, you and Din had been so worn out from the stress of his disappearance, that Grogu had ended up eating your portions too, which you both suspected was his desired outcome. 

“I’ll check all the boxes in the alcove, why don’t you check by the door and just outside the cabin, where we keep our shoes?” Din suggested. You could tell he was trying to stay optimistic but you frowned slightly, doubting that Grogu would be found in either of those places. 

“Alright, I’ll check there,” You agreed, trying to make your voice sound as though it had the optimism that was not matched by your gut. 

“We’ll find him,” Din said again, probably as much for his own benefit as yours.

As you strode towards the front door of the cabin, you thought gratefully once more about how lucky you were to have such a patient and understanding man in your life. Din could so easily have rushed to blame you, even though it wasn’t your fault. Instead, he did his best to reassure you and himself, channelling his energy into finding Grogu rather than finger-pointing and accusations. An attitude like that was certainly a massive help in such an emotionally fraught situation as this.

You checked by the door, lifting the pots and peeking inside them just in case, but to no avail. Your last hope was the little rack you and Din stored your shoes on, just outside the cabin. You dashed through the entryway, feeling the desperation rise. It was then that a noise stopped you in your tracks. You heard an instantly recognisable sound, a little giggle from the mischievous child who had caused you so much anguish. 

“DIN! I FOUND HIM!” You bellowed, almost involuntarily, the sound instantly familiar.

The hint of green peeking out between the brown leather calmed your frayed nerves. The little womp rat had decided the perfect hiding place was in his father’s boots. If you weren't so frazzled by the events of the afternoon, you would have taken a few seconds to appreciate how adorable Grogu looked, nestled in his father's shoe. He was so tiny, a fact you often forgot until you were reminded of it, that he was able to fit inside one of Din’s boots. The brown leather had engulfed his little body entirely, it was a perfect hiding his place. But fortunately, his big green ears were not as easy to squash down and that was what had ultimately given his location away. You breathed a tremendous sigh of relief as you made your way over to where Grogu was, scooping the little boy out of the boot and tutting at him.

“Oh Grogu, please don’t do that again!” You said, voice slightly more hysterical than you intended. The child just stared back at you with wide brown eyes, apparently utterly bemused as to how much he had just worried you and Din. “You gave us such a fright!” You explained, hoping that he understood how terrified you had been.

Before you could speak to Grogu any further, though, Din caught up and promptly grabbed the child from your grasp. He hugged him close, pressing his forehead to Grogu’s bean-shaped head carefully. You knew a stern telling off, with plenty of finger-wagging, probably lay in Grogu’s future. But for now, Din was just allowing the relief to wash over him and feel comforted by holding his son close.

“Where was he?” Din finally turned to you and asked, swallowing thickly as his voice shuddered at the question.

“He was in your boot…” You said, trying to bite back the smile that threatened to creep across your lips and ruin the solemnity of the moment. 

“My boot?” Din repeated, raising an eyebrow and booking at Grogu questioningly. 

“Your boot,” You nodded. “I have no idea why he chose that particular 

“Oh, kid,” Din said, his eyes shut as he chuckled. “I was going to lose it with you but I think being stuck in there, considering how much it must have smelled, was probably punishment enough,” Din let out a belly laugh, amused by his son’s antics. 

“What are we going to do with you, Grogu?” You asked with a sigh as you placed your arm around Din’s waist and gently stroked Grogu’s cheek with your fingertip. You were just relieved that Din had taken this latest prank from his son so well.

"Seriously, I've hiked through muddy swamps in those things!" Din laughed, "I can't believe he would hide in there!"

You just smirked and shook your head at the two of them. You didn't know what you would do with your ridiculous boys, but you loved the pair of them so much. Your chest was filled with a different kind of ache now, a warm one, that you felt whenever you looked at them.

After you and Din had finally stopped giggling at the bemused kid, the three of you made your way back into the cabin and you set about preparing a meal for the three of you. You noticed, as a lump formed in your throat, how tightly Din was holding Grogu as the two of them sat at the counter and watched you potter around the kitchen with their big brown eyes. The time would come when you would have a more serious discussion with Grogu about his behaviour, but for tonight you were just content for the three of you to enjoy each other’s company. Especially considering the two of them had just gotten back from their latest assignment with the New Republic.

And you knew that the next time Grogu went missing, the first place you would check would be Din’s boots.

[howaboutcastiel]

And Also With You

Apostate! Din Djarin x Ex-Jedi! Reader (afab)

(After season 2, canon divergence from bobf and season 3)

Word Count: 7.4k 

Content: plot with porn? Or porn with plot, not sure which one is more accurate. Reader has a vagina, gender-neutral language otherwise. I know that I’m probably not using the force the totally correct way but reality can be whatever I want. Force-touching? Lots of sensual touching and foreplay, fingering, talking Din through sex (he’s somewhat inexperienced), PiV, Creampie? Idk kinda. This is so, so slow-burn while also being everything in one night. 

Din couldn’t remember a time when his life had been so directionless. He was teetering on the edge of two lives, both dreadfully out of reach. He knew that he couldn’t face his fellow mandalorians again, couldn’t stand before The Armorer and her followers. Maybe nobody would tell her that he’d removed his helmet. Maybe the only people who’d seen his face were dead, or on the other side of the galaxy with no intent of ever seeing him again. Maybe nobody knew of his sacrilege, of his betrayal of the Creed.

But he knew. 

Din knew what he’d done—what he’d become—and it was eating away at him. 

You, on the other hand, had come to terms with what you were. You’d gotten past the phase of being unbearably ashamed and angry at yourself. Now, you were mad at something else. The institution that cast you out—that wouldn’t accept you the way that you were. At just 14 years old, the Jedi had abandoned you as unteachable, as unable to forgo attachments and live the life of a Padawan, let alone a Jedi. In a fit of rage, you had run away from your master, cursing the Jedi and everything they stood for. That had been years ago, though. You weren’t fourteen years old anymore.

A few months after you left, any chance of returning to the Jedi Order was lost. Order 66 destroyed everything and everyone that you had known, and after that, you were on the run from imperials as they sought to rid the galaxy of anyone force-sensitive that wasn’t on their side. 

So you had found a place to hide in the outer rim. You went on with your life, continuing your training alone and in secret while you managed to build connections to people in your village. Sorgan was a quiet, beautiful planet with wonderful people. The work was honest, the food was abundant, and life was comfortable. Peaceful. 

That is, until a certain Mandalorian found himself back on the planet with nowhere to go.

You had heard of him once before, a year or so ago when he helped save a village on the other side of the planet. You hadn’t thought twice about it, truthfully, but you feared now that his arrival would bring imperials to Sorgan, just as it brought bounty hunters before. 

You certainly weren’t very cheerful when he approached your stand at the market. 

“How much for a basket?” He inquired. To be fair, he didn’t sound any more cheery than you. Still, you hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… nice. The mandalorian gestured vaguely at a basket of fruit, which you sold alongside jams, jellies, and syrups. Other than krill and spotchka, there wasn’t much else on Sorgan in the way of food. 

“Three credits,” you responded flatly. “But they’re two for five.”

He sighed, thinking it over. “I’ll take two, then.”

The mandalorian fished some credits out of his pocket, placing them delicately on the table across from you. As he leaned closer, something struck you—a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend at first. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was something more. Something only a person trained in the force might pick up on. Your mouth was moving before you could think about what to say. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He paused, raising his helmet to look up at you. You felt heat spread across your face as the mandalorian stared at you. He straightened his back, grabbing the two baskets of food and methodically placing one in each hand. Without a word, he turned to walk away from you. About ten paces away, though, he glanced back again, making you blush even deeper. 

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t that you were afraid of the mandalorian ratting you out. He didn’t seem like the type to meddle in others’ business—he certainly wasn’t going to alert the empire of a force-sensitive fruit farmer on Sorgan. Somehow, though, you felt that you’d done something wrong. You’d overstepped your bounds, for sure, but he didn’t seem offended by your comment. The best explanation you could muster, as he walked away and your connection to him faded, was that you had seen something he didn’t want you to see. His pain? His loss? 

There were other things you saw, too. Other things you felt from him. But you certainly wouldn’t bring those up to him, and now, you’d probably never get the chance anyway. Even if the elusive mandalorian happened to stick around—which you doubted, knowing he was a bounty hunter—you were sure he would be avoiding your stand at the produce market from now on.  

That wouldn’t stop you from thinking about him. 

Sure enough, the next time that the mandalorian showed up at the market, he avoided your shop at all costs. You took the opportunity to get a good look at him, though. It was shameless, but you couldn’t deny the deep connection you felt with him in that moment before. Maybe the force was trying to tell you something? Or maybe he was the first new face you’d seen in a while and you were simply excited by the change. 

You couldn’t deny that you liked what you saw. He was broad, even under the bulky armor, and on the taller side. His body moved elegantly with the beskar as if it was simply an extension of himself. You got the feeling that he had been wearing it for a long time, used to the feeling of the metal encasing him. His helmet hid his face, but his body language was almost expressive enough to make up for that fact. If there wasn’t metal covering his skin, it was the clothes underneath. He was entirely covered from head to toe. 

And… you had been ogling him for a few minutes now. He’d noticed. Shame burned across your face as he made his way over to you, agitation in his step. You were half-prepared for him to threaten you, or otherwise lecture you on your unwanted attention. He did neither, and his voice was nearly a whisper as he leaned across your table once again. 

“How did you know?” 

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

He only stared back. There was that feeling again, and the longer he stood there, inches from your face, the stronger it felt. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching him. It was as if you could feel his soul resonating from his chest. As if it was calling out to you, beckoning you in. Your whole body was on fire. 

“What you said before,” he interrupted your thoughts. He seemed just as flustered as you, despite the dominance in his stance. “About how I’ve lost… something. How did you know that?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, but how could you explain the truth? “I don’t know. I just…I—I felt it.”

His voice dipped even lower, barely audible through his modulator. He glanced behind him quickly, making sure no one else was tuned in to the conversation. 

“Are you a Jedi?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or to gasp with terror, but that feeling assured you that he meant you no harm. He even sounded a bit hopeful. “Not technically, no.”

“What does that mean?” The mandalorian only leaned in closer, drawn to you as much as you were to him, it seemed. You felt from him that he was directionless, that he had just ended a chapter of his life and didn’t know what to do next. You also felt the way his heart leaped at the prospect of a Jedi. He was looking for one, perhaps. He was also searching for something to fill the hole in his heart. One that ached now more than ever, as far as you could tell. 

“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” you warned. You felt well-hidden from the remnants of the empire here, but you could never be too safe. “Come back when the market closes at dusk, then we’ll talk.”

He clenched his fists, nodded curtly, and stepped back from your table. His cape fluttered as he turned around, then the mandalorian was out of sight. The feeling faded again, but you managed to identify it. To use the force and focus on it. And now you were sure that the mandalorian was in need of something, of purpose, and you were sure that you were going to help him find it. 

And, when he disappeared from your view, you couldn’t deny that you missed him. 

How crazy it must be, you thought, for you to long for the company of a man you’d spoken to for a total of five minutes. Whom you knew nothing about—not his name, not his face, not any part of his story. All you knew was that he was hurting, and that the force was drawing you to him. Drawing you to take away the pain.

So, when he reappeared at your table after the suns had set, you didn’t hesitate to give him honesty. “I was trained by the Jedi… a long time ago. I haven’t practiced the ways of the Jedi Order since I was a kid.”

He tilted his helmet at you while he helped you close shop. “But you still wield the force?”

“Yes,” you explained. “I’ve been teaching myself, training my powers. I still use some of the teachings of my old Jedi masters, but…sometimes I’ve found that doing things my own way works better.”

He followed behind you closely as you carried your merchandise back to your lodging, insisting on helping you transport it all. When you paused your explanation, he seemed to be turning it over in his head. “Hmm.”

“What about you?” You inquired. Surely, if you were so drawn to him, he must be force-sensitive too. “As I understand it, mandalorians and Jedi don’t normally get along.”

“I know almost nothing about the force,” he admitted. You were halfway to your cabin now. “My… traveling companion wielded the force. He’s young, still in need of training, so we searched for a Jedi willing to teach him.”

That feeling again. “And did you find one?”

“We did,” he breathed, and you could tell it hurt. 

“He’s the one you lost,” you guessed. His silence confirmed your assumption and, again, you found yourself talking before you could think. “I understand why that must be hard. The foregoing of all attachment was what made me question the Jedi Order all those years ago. It’s still my biggest disagreement with the whole thing.”

You sat your merchandise on the front step of your cabin as you pulled your keys from your pocket. The mandalorian waited patiently as you unlocked your door. He hummed quietly as you beckoned him inside. “Is this where you live?”

“It is. When the suns come up, I have a great view of the forest surrounding our village.” 

He put the remaining boxes where you instructed him to, and before he had a chance to excuse himself and bid you a goodnight, you heard yourself ask, “would you like to stay for a cup of spotchka?”

The mandalorian fidgeted where he stood, and you felt your face heat up again. Maybe the force was telling you to reach out to this man, but you had never been so forward. Perhaps you were being too forward. You started to feel from him again, and he was conflicted. Too conflicted, you thought, for a simple invitation to have a drink. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your night. I’m sure you must be getting up early to harvest your fruit.”

You shook your head. “You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m inviting you for a reason. The company would be nice, actually.”

He sighed. 

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

He stood awkwardly in the doorway while you turned on the lights in your quaint living space. The sleeping bunks were separate from the main room, but the space was still awkwardly small. You opted to give the mandalorian your couch while you sat in the matching chair across from it. You offered him a mug of spotchka, which he politely declined. 

After a beat, he cleared his throat. “The way that you… felt what I was feeling. Do you do that with everyone? Can you—can you hear people’s thoughts?”

“Just you,” you blurted. Dank Ferrik, you really should’ve been thinking harder about your choice of words. You backtracked. “I can’t hear people’s thoughts. The force just allows me to feel certain things that others cannot. I’ve never had a connection through the force with a stranger before, but when you stood close to me at the market, I could feel that you were mourning.”

“That’s…” his voice trailed. His mesmerizing voice. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I don’t either, if I am being honest.”

He leaned forward on the couch, leaned closer to you. He was doing that a lot today. “Is there anything else you can feel from me?”

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. There was more you could feel, but how could you put it into words? If you could explain it, would he even want to hear it? Would he want to know that you could see so much of his soul?

Surely not. 

But he spoke up again. “If you’re…feeling something you don’t like, I understand. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You chuckled at him, puzzled. “I think I am the one who should be saying that to you. I am certainly invading your privacy, looking into your mind with the force.”

“I want to know what you see,” he countered. His hand came up to fidget with the cape around his neck. “No one has ever…”

You didn’t need the force to finish that sentence for him. No one has ever seen my soul before. I’ve never shown it to anyone. You knew that’s what he meant, because the same was true for you. 

“This companion that you have parted with, he meant a great deal to you. You love him…like family. Like a child of your own.” 

His helmet dipped a little, almost imperceptible. “I don���t want to think about that right now.”

“Of course,” you nodded. You continued on with a change of subject. “I can feel that there’s more to it, though. You’re not just missing your… Grogu. Something else has been lost. Something that goes back even further than your relationship with the child. Something that leaves almost as big of a hole in your heart.”

The mandalorian stopped his fidgeting. You swore he was so still that he must have stopped breathing, too. 

“But you cannot accept that you’ve lost it.”

He didn’t seem able to respond, but you felt that he wanted you to continue. You tried to focus on what the force guided you to, but you had no idea what it was. “You’re yearning for something. For some kind of purpose, some kind of connection. You’ve never had that before, but you won’t let yourself seek it out now. You’re holding onto something else. You’re terrified to let go of it.”

The mandalorian was visibly shaking now. He whispered, “I would like you to stop looking now.”

“That’s understandable,” you assured him. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You only did what I asked you to,” he offered. You supposed that was true. “I’m sure that you can also see… or feel… or…”

The mandalorian stumbled over his words. You didn’t know why, but you felt your body run hot again. 

“You must know that I am unsure of what I’m supposed to do next.”

You nodded at him. Finally, you seemed to hone in on what the force was trying to get you to see. 

“What do you want to do next?”

To that, he replied solemnly. 

“Something I haven’t been allowed to do in a long time. But I don’t know where to start, and…”

You felt it. “And you’re frightened.”

“Yes.”

The force was clear now. 

“Would you like some help with that?” You smiled. 

He whimpered. “Yes.”

“We should get started, then. Like you said, I must get up early in the morning.”

A shaky breath hissed through his modulator. Slowly, you rose from your seat and made your way over to him. He stared up at you and you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. You figured now would be a good time to introduce yourself. You gave him your name, prompting him to do the same. 

“It’s Din.” He seemed amused by his own introduction. He scoffed, “I haven’t told anyone my name since… since I swore the creed. I wasn’t allowed to. I haven’t gone by that name since I put on this helmet.”

Helmet. Alarm bells rung in your head, and a distant memory emerged that finally made you understand. Ancient mandalorians never removed their helmets. The practice was legend now, but there were always rumors. 

“You’ve never removed your helmet in front of anyone.”

Din lowered his head to stare at your chest. You could feel his shame radiating off of him. Oh. 

“You weren’t supposed to remove it, but you did.”

His voice was strained. “According to the creed, I was never supposed to put it back on.”

You pondered for a minute. Slowly, your hands worked their way across his shoulders and neck and arms. You felt the fabric underneath his armor, the way his cape was tucked around his neck, and Din’s hands ventured out to your stomach. You weighed your options, until you finally elected to provide them both and let him decide. 

“Do you want to work up to it?” You asked. His head snapped back up to look at you. “Taking the helmet off, I mean. Do you want to start with other clothes first? Or do you want to bite the bullet, Din?”

He shuddered as he heard his name come out of your mouth. Din squeezed the skin at your hips, his fingers digging in almost desperately. 

“If it takes too long, I’m afraid that I might back out.”

You placed your hands at the base of his helmet on either side. His hands moved from your waist to cup your wrists. “You’re sure you’re ready to accept what you’ve lost?”

“I am,” he breathed decidedly.

You deactivated his modulator and lifted the beskar over his head, not daring to let yourself look at him until the helmet was all the way off. You turned away from him, setting the helmet gently on the table beside the couch. Before you even faced him, Din’s terrified excitement encompassed you. That, or perhaps you were also scared and excited. 

The image in front of you was captivating. Not only could you feel the fear that Din felt, but now you could see it on his face. His face. Dark, messy hair framed the face of a man not quite as old as you, but not particularly young. His skin flushed bright pink, only drawing more attention to his eyes, which were bright and deep and soft. A full, hooked nose sat above plump and cracked lips—the man had an obvious habit of biting them, it appeared. 

You were ogling him, for the second time today. After a few moments, he turned his gaze to the floor, too vulnerable to look straight at you. Then a few more moments passed, and his eyes flickered up to meet yours again. You were enamored with how bright they were. Such a deep chocolate brown, but piercing and wide. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He swallowed hard, then nodded. You ran your thumb across his cheek and he shivered at the contact, still studying your face. Your hand followed his jawline, tucking stray curls behind his ears and feeling his stubble with the pads of your fingers. When your index finger grazed the arch of his upper lip, his eyes fluttered shut. 

You tilted his head back and leaned down, touching your lips to his. 

Din froze again and, when you pulled away, he stared at you with nothing short of bewilderment. An apology was already forming on your lips when his still-gloved hand shot up to the back of your head, closing the gap between you. He wasn’t a particularly agile kisser—which wasn’t his fault, you reminded yourself, and was frankly endearing—but Din was wise enough to restrain himself and let you lead him through it. A sweet, simple rhythm arose pretty quickly, and you let him continue to kiss you for as long as he wanted. He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arm gingerly around your back. All the while, familiar heat was pooling in your belly. You tried your best to ignore it, figuring you would need to set your pace excruciatingly slow for Din to warm up to it. 

And perhaps he was unsure of himself, but Din was also eager. He didn’t need to warm up. 

He was white-hot already. 

His mouth was still on yours when you felt something drop on your face. A tear rolled off of his skin and onto yours, and you realized that Din was crying. You could feel that he was embarrassed, too, but he didn’t need to be. Bringing your hand to his face, you swiped a tear off of his cheek with your thumb. You smiled against him before leaning away and pressing your forehead to his. His breath shook as he tried to compose himself. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” you prompted him. 

Amusement tugged at the corners of his lips, even as the tears continued to fall. 

His voice was shaky. “I thought you could already tell. Isn’t that how we got here?”

You smiled at him, shaking your head lightly. 

“I’m not a mind-reader, baby. I still need you to use your words.”

His eyes flickered at the word baby. You wondered when the last time was that Din was treated with any kind of tenderness. Something told you it had been a long, long time. 

Din cleared his throat, blushing as he struggled to look you in the eye. “I didn’t know that it could be like this.”

“Is it too much? Do you want to stop?” You leaned away. He held the back of your neck, keeping you close. 

“No! Don’t stop,” he blurted. Din was flustered, stumbling over his words. “I don’t want to stop. I’m just… surprised. In a good way, I think. No, I know it’s a good way, just—just don’t stop.”

“Okay, I won’t.” You moved your hands to the base of his neck, fumbling with his cape. “I’m gonna take this off, alright?”

He nodded, mumbling a barely-audible affirmation as you untucked the fabric and let it fall down past his shoulders. Din threw his head back as the cool air hit his throat. Slowly, you moved your mouth down until your lips brushed against his Adam's apple. He winced at the contact, one hand darting up into your hair while the other held the small of your back. Din continued to choke on his breath until the gasps and hitches morphed into longer groans and whines. The noise went straight between your thighs, but again you ignored it. That is, until Din’s hands moved together and made you pause. 

Two soft plats rang in your ears as Din dropped his gloves to the ground, one after the other. 

You didn’t even have to move. Almost instantly, his hands returned to their respective places. His fingertips dug experimentally into your skin, hesitant and soft. Another whine escaped his throat. “Fuck.”

It was only then that you felt it—what you should have noticed by now. With Din’s hand pressed into the small of your back, tugging you ever-so-gently closer to him, you could plainly feel it. The outline of him through the front of his pants, poking against your thigh and no doubt straining against the tight fabric. His cock had grown hard some time ago, but he’d been ignoring it just as you’d been brushing off your own feelings of arousal. Now, though, it was simply begging for attention. His hips bucked involuntarily. You smirked. 

“Would you like some help with that?” You teased. 

Din’s face lit up red. “I—yes, I do—just give me a second—”

He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on something. While his left hand stayed behind your head, his right was slowly venturing further upward underneath the fabric of your shirt. When his hips jerked again, he shuddered underneath you. His cock had gained the smallest bit of friction from the movement against your thigh, and he was trying desperately to stop himself from bucking up to get more. You felt a bit of panic flowing off of him. 

“Din?” His big, brown eyes flickered open and up to your face. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

“No,” he blurted. He scoffed, as if the suggestion was so far from the truth that it was amusing. “It’s just… never happened like this. There’s rules, normally. Mandalorians, we’re not celibate by any means, but I wouldn’t exactly say that intimacy is our strong suit. Before, no one was allowed to see my skin. Not even a little. I’m just… I’m trying to decide…”

You tilted your head, lifting his chin with your fingertip. “Trying to decide how much to show me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. 

“What does your instinct tell you?” You inquired, already knowing the answer.

His eyes fluttered down to your chest. Din swallowed hard and dropped his hands to his sides, propping himself against them. He sucked in a breath. 

“To take it all off.”

The beskar came first. Din disconnected his chest plate while you tore his shoulder guards off of him. The armor on his arms was equipped with weapons and electronics you couldn’t work, so you took the opportunity to shed your own clothing while he dealt with the rest of the metal pieces. You were down to your underwear by the time he was finished, a heap of beskar resting behind your couch when you sat down again. His hands didn’t hesitate to grab your waist. Din felt your bare chest and belly while you toyed with the buttons on his pants. 

When you paused to let him pull his shirt over his head, he took a moment to understand what he was supposed to do next. After a beat, Din reached between his shoulder blades, tugging the fabric up and off his body. 

Even as big and strong as he appeared in the armor, you weren’t quite expecting the toned body underneath his clothes. Din’s body was lean, but bulked at his chest and arms—you supposed from the physical nature of his work. A toned set of abs no doubt lied under a soft belly that was jerking from nerves and restraint.

Your fingers danced along his biceps, across his chest and down his stomach before settling at the waist of his pants. He arched his back to give you room to tug them past his hips. When you did, the length of his cock became plainly visible, outlined by boxer briefs barely capable of containing it. Your fingers ghosted across the fabric, causing him to shudder and whine. 

“I wanna—” Din started, cut off by flick of your thumb over the tip, where a tiny wet spot was beginning to form. “I want to touch you first. Make sure you’re—you’re ready.”

You groaned at the thought of him needing to get you ready. Of the perfect, almost-unimaginable stretch that would hurt so good that you would be drunk on it. You thought of his fingers dancing along your entrance, as gentle and tentative as the rest of his touch, only to retreat and make way for what you could already tell would leave you feeling sore tomorrow. 

“Go ahead, baby.”

Din’s hand ventured down to the band of your underwear. He dipped below the elastic and he groaned deep from his chest when he felt your slick touch the pads of his fingers. It must have been the first time he’d gotten to touch someone without the gloves coming between you. His fingers dipped lower, brushing past your clit and to the top of your entrance. He shuddered and groaned again and you were half-convinced he would come undone right then. His cock twitched underneath his boxers, desperate for friction. 

First a single finger dipped hesitantly into your entrance, hooking upward against your walls as it searched for that spongy place that was most sensitive. As much as he tried—and as much as you were sure he knew how to draw an orgasm from you—he was too distracted by the feeling of you to focus. He pulled out the digit, gathering more of your slick and circling your folds, then pushed two back inside. 

“Dank—fucking—ferrik—” Din muttered under his breath. “So tight… so wet for me—”

“I think you’re getting a little distracted, baby,” you joked. 

He mumbled, “You just feel so good.”

His fingers moved lazily, directionless. You could tell he was getting lost in the sensation of fucking you with his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cum before you’d even touched him. 

You were starting to get desperate. Grinding into his hand, you leaned to his ear. “I think I can help you, baby. Will you let me do that?”

“Please,” he whispered. 

Your hand moved to cup his over your underwear, the other arm holding your weight. You pressed his fingers further inside you, rolling your hips until they hit that perfect spot. Pleasure shot through you and you groaned. The sound and the feeling of you bucking into his hand made Din whine again. 

He shook his head. “I’m not gonna—I can’t—It’s too much—”

You didn’t want this to be over so soon, though. In a split-second decision, you squeezed your eyes shut and focused hard, calling on the force. You felt yourself constricting the base of his shaft, holding his orgasm off while he hissed and bucked upward. It took a second for him to realize what you were doing—how you were doing it—and he eyed you with shock and brief panic. 

“Din,” you cooed at him slowly, “take a deep breath and focus for me, okay? I know you know how to use those fingers.”

After a few panicked huffs evolved into slow, shaky breaths, Din nodded up at you. His fingers danced across that spot, pausing to hone in when you whined and clenched around them. He set a pattern of twisting and curling and parting his fingers, brushing across that spot every few movements. It was just enough to make you frustrated. Enough to make you crave the tiniest bit more. A sly grin moved across his face when you whimpered and tried to move your hips to take him deeper. 

“Please, Din,” you begged, your thrusts barely missing your sweet spot. “I need more. You’re right there, just more—”

“I can’t help but want to savor this,” he breathed. He tilted his head so his mouth was at your ear. You couldn’t tell if it was more teasing or truthful. Either way, he didn’t change his pace. 

He kept going for another short while until you simply couldn’t stand it anymore. Your hand parted from his and hovered above your core. Din realized a little too late what you were about to do. Without his permission, Din’s fingers curved upward until they perfectly pressed against your bundle of nerves. His thumb moved up to press against your clit, drawing tiny circles as his hand moved faster, harder than before. He grunted frustratedly after a few moments, not fond of the feeling, and he didn’t hesitate to continue the rhythm you’d set when you released him. 

“Keep going,” you instructed. 

He nodded. 

The pleasure was steadily building. Quickly building. Din could hardly handle it all and he elected to distract himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. He managed to keep his hand steady—and keep from spilling in his boxers—as his tongue collected the sweat from your skin. When you were nearly at your peak you began to tighten around him, moving your hips to match his pace. The climax stole your breath from you and your body shook in his tight, strong grasp. Din threw his head back as you gushed around his hand. 

When you finally came down, your entire weight resting against him as you gasped for breath, he hummed a noise of amusement. 

“Do you think you’re ready now?” 

You chuckled into his neck. “Only if you are.”

“I can’t believe I get to feel you like this,” he exalted, almost to himself. Din tilted your head to face him, making the most confident eye contact he’d made with you all night. “I can’t explain it, but I’m glad that it’s you. Thank you.”

You buried your face back in his neck, flustered. It was barely audible when you muttered, “Me too.”

“And yes,” he added. “I’m ready.”

He dipped his hands to your backside, pulling your underwear down as you shimmied off of his lap just enough to free them. Slowly, Din pushed the two of you forward until you were on your back. He planted a quick kiss on your lips before pulling off of you. You watched as he swiftly removed his last remaining clothing. 

And now that there was nothing left to the imagination, you were absolutely sure. 

You were going to be sore tomorrow. 

Din moved back on top of you, guiding your legs around his hips and running the head of his cock through your slick, coating himself with it. Your hands shot up to clutch at his chest and his eyelids dropped as he fell into the more familiar feeling of his dick against your entrance. Juxtaposed with all the new sensations and the connection the two of you seemed to have, Din felt a kind of euphoria he couldn’t describe. Confidence overrode the uncertainty until all that was left was a deep, carnal hunger for you. You could feel it. 

Then he slowly pushed himself inside, only an inch or so, and your mind and body were consumed by the stretch of it. Your fingers dug into his biceps and your head fell back against the cushion. He stilled his movements, not even halfway inside and struggling with all his might to stay still. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. 

Breathlessly, you laughed up at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His expression didn’t change. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you smiled. 

“I need you to tell me if I’m hurting you,” he warned. You nodded up at him. “And just so you’re aware, I do have the implant.”

“That’s good,” you noted. “Because we both know you’re not gonna last very long.”

Din closed his eyes. “I would be offended by that if you weren’t squeezing me so tight right now.”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. He started to move again, and your voice wavered. “We’ll work you up to it.”

When he was seated almost all the way in, beads of sweat had formed in a line across your forehead. He grunted and took a breath to steady himself. You almost felt bad for adding the quip. 

“We can always go for round two, if you’re up for it.”

He started to drag himself out of you, angling his hips just right. “We’ll see if you’re up to it, sweetheart.”

Din stopped with just the tip seated in your walls. He seemed to take your words as a challenge, and you did the same with his retort. The fire in your gaze gave Din some kind of reassurance. He grabbed your hand in his and snapped his hips forward, swiftly burying himself all the way inside you. You gasped and moaned, your whole body jolting from the strength of it. Squeezing his hand, you arched your back just the tiniest bit, inviting him in to set whatever pace and force he wanted. 

Which he did. 

The rhythm he set was slow, but deep. The head of his cock bumped hard against your sweet spot with each thrust and you held onto him for dear life. He gripped you just as tightly, your waist encased in his sturdy grasp. Din’s head dipped until his mouth latched to your jaw. His lips brushed against your skin, more interested in simply feeling you than drinking you in. Tiny whimpers fell through them on every other jerk of his hips. 

Your orgasm built just a bit slower than before and you were almost delirious in your pleasure. One of his hands moved between your legs, grazing the bud of nerves above your entrance as he felt himself sliding in and out of you. An unfettered, grumbling moan escaped his throat. Din’s hips began to sputter and falter in their pace. 

“Keep going,” you instructed, placing your hand over his. There was no threat this time of you using the force to move him, but Din complied with your request nonetheless. He drew smooth circles with his hand, matching the pace of the snapping of his pelvis into you. “Like that. Yes, Din.”

“I don’t know—how long I can.” He dipped his head, concentrating on his thrusts. “You’re too good, you feel too good.”

“It’s alright.” You cupped his cheek in your hand. You were almost there. Right at the edge. As you climbed to that high point and pleasure began to crash down around you, through you, your body went rigid and your back arched until you were pressed as closely to his chest as you could possibly get. 

Your stilling and squeezing around him is what pushed Din over the edge. He buried himself as deep as he could inside you, filling you with his spend and utterly gasping for air. His chest heaved and shuddered against yours and you held onto him tight. After a moment of collecting himself, Din slowly pulled out of you while you whined at the loss of his touch. 

The two of you sat together on the couch, fatigued and satisfied. Your fingers danced in Din’s hair while he absentmindedly ran his hands along your thighs and belly. When you finally had to excuse yourself to the fresher—the sticky feeling between your legs had turned cold and bothersome—Din began to collect his armor and throw his clothes on haphazardly. Something felt wrong about it. 

“Going somewhere, baby?” You hummed at him in the doorway. His eyes gazed at you innocently as he pulled on his boxers. 

“Well, it’s like you said…” he stumbled over his words. “You have to be up early. I should probably get out of your hair.”

You could feel that he didn’t want to leave, but this was what Din was used to. A quick fuck, impersonal and needy, and then parting ways without a second thought. That was what was normal for him. 

You weren’t having it. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” you explained solemnly. He slowed his attempt to tug his pants  up around his thighs. Din was unsure of what to do. “…do you want to leave?”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Then stay.” You smiled. 

He nodded at you and leaned back against the couch cushions. You were almost ready to close the door behind you when a thought struck. You cleared your throat. 

“Would you want to join me?”

You gestures toward the shower and Din’s eyes blew even wider. He glanced at you, then the fresher, then back at you. Again, he nodded, and you smiled as you turned to press the buttons for the shower settings. It was a lucky thing you weren’t on Jakku or Tatooine—you loved the water too much. Here, you had an abundance of it, which you certainly took for granted. 

Din’s eyes were so lidded that he could hardly keep them open. He was anxious, you could feel, and the anticipation of touching you again was pulling him out of his head. His heart was racing and you moved your hand up to press against it. Absently, his hand ghosted behind yours. The mandalorian looked to be lost in his own mind, staring off into space. 

“Are you okay?” You spoke gently. He hummed a noise of general content, but didn’t look down at you. When you pulled him into the stream of hot water, his knees nearly buckled underneath him. You held the sides of his face. “Hey, baby. Talk to me.”

He barely registered your voice, it seemed. Din sank further into the warmth of the shower and his arms danced unceremoniously on your skin. His breath still shook even as the water helped him decompress. His eyes didn’t focus when he spoke, his voice cracked and whispering. 

“Why are you taking such good care of me?”

“What do you mean?” You asked. He finally looked at you, fear clouding his eyes and making his brows furrow in a grimace. 

Din gritted his teeth. “I mean nothing to you. I’m just a traveler you met at the market. Haven’t been in your life for more than a few days. What makes me deserve all this?” 

“You don’t have to earn my affection, Din.” Your hands were still on his face. He leaned into the touch. “You deserve to be taken care of just like anyone does after sex. Just like anyone does in general.”

He looked skeptical, and you added, “and you’re not ‘nothing’ to me.”

“What, because the force ‘drew you’ to me? Because you can peer into my head and see my whole life if you want to?” He scoffed. 

Din saw the hurt on your face and he softened a bit. You cleared your throat. “I don’t just care about you because of what the force showed me, and I can’t see your whole life. I care about you because of the night that I’ve spent with you. I want to spend more time with you, too.”

“But why?”

You smiled and turned away from him, leaning back against his chest and pulling his arms around you. You grabbed the bar of soap from the rack and folded it into his hand. “Maybe because you give me so much credit for doing normal-people things.”

His hands were more confident this time as they traveled your chest and shoulders and waist. Din massaged the soap across your skin in a steady, calming rhythm. You leaned back against his shoulder, allowing him to hold your weight. He didn’t mind. 

“Or maybe I want to see those things that the force can’t show me about you. Maybe your reputation precedes you and I want to see what all of the fuss is about.”

He hummed in your ear. “I have a reputation?”

You scoffed. 

“For someone who’s traveled so much of the galaxy, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

You felt him smile against your skin. Sleep tugged at you both as you finished getting clean, and Din could barely keep his hands off of you when you turned off the water. You tossed him a towel, noting with a chuckle, “I thought my touch would be too overwhelming by now. We’ve done a lot tonight.”

He grinned lazily and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Overwhelming? Are you kidding? I can’t get enough of it.”

“That’s good,” you noted, tugging him toward your bunk. “Because my bed is only a single.”

You weren’t surprised at all when the two of you settled underneath the sheets and Din elected to hold you to his chest, his head nuzzled into your neck. For the first time since you’d met him, his mind was quiet. Soon enough, his breathing slowed and steadied, and you figured he must be asleep. 

“May the force be with you, Din,” you cooed. It was meant to be a blessing that he wouldn’t hear. Still, he replied. 

“And also with you.”

-----

-----

Author's Notes: first of all, idk why writing has been an ordeal recently. I want this to be its own fic universe but not a series per se. I love the idea of a Jedi reader and Din. My other note is that I have not proofread this and I forgot how sex works so... you know. Do what you will.

No tags because idk who to tag.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 8}

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

Summary: You're slowly getting back to a semblance of yourself after being given a life altering choice.

Word Count: 4.2k (it's a short one, apologies)

Warnings: WE GOT SHIRTLESS DIN Y'ALL, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, trauma, ptsd, nightmares, illness, reader throws up, allusions to past SA (not detailed), gun violence

A/N: this was a rather hard chapter for me to crank out, i wasn't sure how much of reader's personality would immediately show after the events of the last chapter, but i think i managed to do a decent job that doesn't make it feel like it's a different character altogether. she will come out of her shell more throughout the next couple of chapters as she gets used to traveling with our dear mandalorian as an equal

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The clearing was silent as the sun made its rise into the sky, displaying an enticing view of warm pinks and deep oranges that bled into the soft blue of the still waning night sky. Your gaze was locked with the visor across from you, so far and yet still closer than anyone had dared to approach you, with an offer no one had dared to extend to you before. But it didn’t feel real, it felt like a ploy despite the fluttering in your stomach at learning the name of the man who you had spent so much time with.

“How do I know this isn’t a trick, Din Djarin?” You spoke with more control than you truly had, voice strong despite the waning tears that now stained your face and left your eyes tinged with a telltale pinkness of their occurrence. Mind working to calculate the situation playing out, an edge of clarity to your eyes now that the high emotions had all but rushed out of your lips in outraged pleas. A new facet of who you were, of how you survived for so long, taking it in and mentally checking it, much like you were doing with the man across from you.

“My name… I have not spoken it aloud since I was a boy. I have not shared it with anyone,” Din took a step toward you, your body instinctively took a step back despite the fluttering in your middle at the confession. It was a warm feeling akin to the heat thoughts of him blazed underneath your skin in the darkness of night, but far more innocent. At the part of him he was willing to give to you, even after you threatened to kill him. “I…. want to share it with you, to prove to you that I will not harm you and give you something in return that could harm me if it were to leave the two of us.”

This was all so new, different sides of the alluring mystery you both posed to each other.

“You saved my life twice, when you had no reason to.” His words were strong, though there was a caressing of emotion in them you had only been allowed to glimpse before. “You deserve the same, you deserve to be saved, given a choice.”

It was hard to believe him, believe the words, the offering he was extending to you. You were sure he could pinpoint the conflicting emotions as they passed over your face. Positive in your very soul that he could tell you had never been handed a choice before and were confused over, especially coming from someone initially hired to capture you.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“As is this.”

“You- you want me to travel with you?”

“Yes, I would be honored to have you aboard the ship.” His tone was solid, with no hint of hesitancy or fraud in his words as they sounded in the air. “You are a strong fighter, a survivor.”

“Free?”

“You are free, I will do my best to ensure it until you wish to part ways.”

“What…what if I do something you don’t like or speak out of place?” The words you wanted to say died in your throat to allow for those ones to come to life. The confession of wanting to remain with him until he no longer wanted you around nearly slipping from your lips as the conversation continued. Because that’s what it was, a conversation. You weren’t being talked at or down to, he was talking to you, with you. He had begun to do so the second you had boarded his ship, even knowing the dynamic that he had initiated by taking you from that compound.

“I will not raise a hand to you, I’ve promised you that already.”

“I’m annoying, I say things under my breath, I-I-I…I’m selfish.”

“Then we can be so together.” A deep chuckle decorated the air of the clearing, making your heart stutter for a reason other than fear and anxiety for the several times since he entered your life. The sound was beautiful, and your selfish tendencies were already returning to you. You wanted more of it, of that sound, of being able to draw that sound out of him.

“Y-yes.”

He closed the distance of the clearing and came up toward you with his hands at his sides as he approached, the rising sun catching his amor in a mesmerizing way. He walked past your still form toward the wall of trees surrounding the space, retrieving the heavy pack he knew you had hidden in the brush. He hauled it onto his shoulder, his cloak billowing more with the weight resting along the upper part of it along his back. “Let’s get everything back on board before some food. Then we can rest after traveling all night.”

You felt a shy smile come over your lips, liking the sound of ‘we’ after being alone for so long. You reached for one of the trunks and hauled it up, following his lead back toward the ship. His steps faltered as he looked over his shoulder and saw the expression. You quietly asked him if he was alright, getting a nod from the man in response.

The hammock from your new pack was secured to the walls of the ship, off in the corner opposite of Din’s small personal quarters, near the wall that made up the back entrance to the ship. Your bag was atop it, heavier now with the other items you had purchased while in town with the villagers just yesterday. A time that felt so long ago, when you were worried about having to bide your time and make a run for it, run away from the man you could feel crossing the space of the hold toward you.

You jumped clean off the floor of the hold when a crate was set down with a loud thunk and you spun on your heels to face the sound. He was rather close as was the sound and your hand was tight around the handle of your saber, instinctually reaching for it. It should alarm you how used you were to his presence that it didn’t register how little distance was between the both of you, but you pushed that thought down to inspect at a later time.

You turned in time to see him using his right leg to scoot in neatly underneath the space below the hammock. There was enough room beneath it and the top of the storage to accommodate the weight of your body while resting.

“For you, for your…things.”

You nodded at him, aware of the weight of his visor taking in the small space you had claimed for yourself. Worry flared for a moment, worry that you had chosen a bad spot or infringed on his space in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It all tapered out of you in a shaky exhale, hands letting go of your weapon as you realized you had clenched your hand tight around it, your knuckles creaking with the effort and your fleeting, overwhelming emotion. Turning back around, you began to unload the pack into the open space of the crate with a small ‘thank you’.

“There…is a small cabin behind the flight room.” He reached out and his gloved hand gently turned you around, so you were facing him fully. You let him do so, your heart hammering in your chest at the casual contact, at his words. “We can make it your own space, more privacy than here in the hold.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“You wouldn’t, yours if you want it.”

Your body betrayed you at his words, at the phrasing. You felt your skin tingle as a whoosh of desire flared hot in your middle and your mind decided to recall the feel of his bare hands. You ducked your head, unable to keep a somewhat shared look with him as you pulled slowly from his light grip on your arm.  His hand lingered, brushing down the side of your arm to blossom comfort with his touch, as if he was aware of the waring emotions you were experiencing.

“I’ll…think about it.”

He leaned in close, helmet coming to rest on your forehead in another comforting action. Fingers reached out to wrap around his elbows before you realized you were even moving, reaching.

“I asked you to stay, mesh’la. Please don’t feel like you’re unwanted here.”

Lifting your eyes to gaze into the visor, you felt a shudder of something faint make its way down your spine. You were sure the man could feel the way your body reacted to it, this close to you. You could only nod in response to his words, your own too jumbled in your chest to voice.

With a slow nod in return, he was back over on the other side of the space, taking a seat at the makeshift table. The Child was atop it, exploring the food packages around him with excited gurgles. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you watched him, so excited with such a simple thing.

“The village packed us a lot of food, you’re welcome to any of it.”

“Oh, um, I…ate in town.” You shuffled on your feet, turning back to the small corner and began to unpack the items you had purchased in the village. “I wasn’t sure when I would get to eat next.”

It was quiet for a few heartbeats, the man focused on opening some of the wrapped bundles.

“You were going to run, even if that transmission hadn’t come through.” He wasn’t asking for confirmation, he was stating it as if he had been privy to the way your mind had been running, like it was second nature for him to know about the things that had occurred in your mind and influenced your actions. Maybe it was, to an extent. Having traveled with him for some time now.

“Yes.”

“I was going to leave a note.” You admitted, eyes falling closed as you gathered yourself. You didn’t reach for anything as you sat atop the other makeshift seat of a crate. Hands in your lap as you spoke, eyes still trained on the Child and his many noises.

Your lips quirked up when his small form turned to you with an outstretched hand. He was clutching a kebob in his little claw, cooked krill pieces skewered onto it. When you reached a hand out to take it, he fussed, shaking his head with a grumble. A soft laugh bubbled up as you opened your mouth and leaned closer to him. That seemed to be what he wanted, and he giggled freely as he watched you tear the topmost piece away with your teeth and began to chew it. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you exaggerated a nod at him to let him know you liked the taste.

He turned his attention to Din and held his hand out once again.

A shake of the helmet made him frown, a little angry grunt sounding from his chest. He mimicked Din, shaking his head and then brandishing the kebob at him in a wave. He bumped it against the front of the helmet, right where Din’s mouth would be. And again, and again. It was making the only noise in the ship other than the odd beeping sound or so that signaled things were up and running.

With a deep sigh, one of Din’s hands came up and pressed something just underneath the front of the helmet, where it settled over his chin. The hiss of the helmet decompressing startled you and your heart thudded in your chest as froze in place across the makeshift table. Surely he wouldn’t just expose himself so casually…? The Creed of the Mandalorians forbade the removal of the helmet, and while that wasn’t the case for all of them, it was a rather important factor in the practice that Din took part in, that he was raised in. The hint of a strong jaw covered in dark scruff was visible as he quickly leaned forward and took a bite from the offered stick.

Just as quickly as the helmet had been lifted ever so slightly, it was set back in place.

The Child’s happy giggles echoed off the walls. He turned back to you with a large, toothy smile. Willing your heart to calm down, you returned the smile with a soft one of your own.

A shout ripped from your throat, and you were thrashing around as your mind was ripped from its stream of unconsciousness. Heart thudding painfully in your chest, panting with the effort to catch your breath, you sat up from the hammock, swinging your legs over the side of it. It was swinging with your harsh movements, the supports of it groaning with the actions. The door to the personal quarters across the hold slid open and Din’s form filled the doorway, a blaster in his hand.

You were shaking, body humming with adrenaline as your mind had decided to replay a rather harsh memory from your captivity. The roaring in your ears prevented you from hearing Din cross the space, moving toward you in nothing but his helmet and a pair of sleep pants. His gentle hands on your knees startled you and you kicked out at him, sending him stumbling back onto his backside and palms to catch himself.

“It’s me, mesh’la.”

You shook your head, bringing your hands up to cover your ears. Your throat constricted and the words you were trying to say warbled out incoherently.

“What do you need?” Din’s voice was dulled, as if you were hearing things through a tunnel. Your vision was blurry as you opened your eyes, blinking away the remnants of the nightmare. It was then that you realized you were crying, tears spilling over your lash line to race down your cheeks. They dripped off the end of your chin, splattering to the floor.

“W-water.” You managed to choke out, your skin feeling so caked in filth and the phantom touches from the men who had held you captive. Poor choice of words, you mused as Din moved to gather a pouch of water from atop the makeshift table. You were shaking your head as he turned back around with it in his hands. He could see the way your muscles twitched even from the short distance, your body reacting strongly to whatever your mind had decided to conjure up during your sleep.

“I need to clean. I feel- I feel their hands all over me.” You were pushing up from the hammock, holding a hand to your mouth as nausea roiled hot in your middle. Rushing across the hold toward to fresher, the door hissed shut just as Din caught sight of you crumpling to the floor in front of the toilet basin and heaving the contents of your stomach.

The sound of the shower running had Din standing in front of the door to the fresher with a change of clothes for you in his hands. He had gathered one of his shirts, recalling the way you had held the first one up to inhale his scent back on Sorgan. A small comfort he could offer you when words failed him, as they so often did, but especially in the wake of what just happened. The knock that sounded from his bare knuckles had you jumping underneath the spray of hot water raining down on your body.

Pausing in your frantic scrubbing, your head shot up and focused on the door through the frosted glass of the shower stall.

“Got you a change of clothes.” Din’s voice sounded muffled through the metal of his helmet and the shut door to the small room. “I can set the helmet to another setting and place them on the sink for you.”

“Th-thank you.” Hopefully he understood with your minimal response that what he was saying was alright with you. He seemed to understand, because the door hushed open, and his broad form filled the space of the room. You watched through the glass paneling as he placed a bundle of dark clothing down atop the sink. His helmet never turned toward you despite knowing he could feel the weight of your own gaze upon him. He left as swiftly as he had appeared, allowing you to finish your shower in privacy.

When you emerged from the fresher with damp hair and a new outfit that consisted of a baggy shirt and pants, the hold was empty. There was a single light left on the wall that held the ramp settled into while it wasn’t activated, illuminating the space in soft light. Your eyes landed on a steaming cup of something left on the table, watching the wafts of heat climb into the air. Smiling to yourself, you moved to take a seat and reached to cradle the hot ceramic in your hands.

You were nestled back in the hammock after finishing the warm broth, the liquid helping to sooth your settling stomach. Despite the comfort of an added blanket and the relaxing residual warmth from your shower, you couldn’t help but wring your hands where they rested atop your middle. Din had checked on the ship’s course before returning to his own space. The hush of his door nearly shutting closed the space off and left a weighted silence in its wake.

Settling down further into the blankets, a muffled sob made its way through your body, and you quickly clamped a hand down over your mouth to stifle it. Eyes darting to the small sliver of space that Din had left his door open to see if it traveled across the space toward him. Nothing akin to fear or worry or the instinct to run washed over you as a bulb lit up and his hand bare hand suddenly appeared and was shoving the door open with swift motions. He was across the space in a few long strides, the fabric of his sleep pants swishing around his legs with the speedy, tempered movement.

As soon as he was close enough, he was leaning over to place his hands underneath the curve of your knees and along your upper back, your hands going up around his neck as if they were made just for that. The blanket fell away from you as he lifted you into his arms, turning away from the set up you had made for yourself.

He carried you across the space back toward the door and it shut behind him as he settled you both into the small bed atop the cot that took up a majority of the space. His body was a warm line beside you, your arms loosening from around his neck to fill the space between your bodies atop the mattress. His hands busy pulling the discarded blanket up around you both, letting it settle around your hips.

Eyes trained on him across from you, breath labored as you took in the bare expanse of his chest. Nearly all of his bronze skin was on display in the dull light that probably needed replacing. Fingers twitching in an effort to not cross the space and run them over the temptation that was so close. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closing to shield yourself from the want. As he spoke lowly to you, the rumbling timber of his voice caressed over you in a muffled sound.

When you opened your eyes back up from a long blink, the confusion in them let him know you had no clue as to what he had just said. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and deflated as he let it out in a sigh.

“San,” The sound of your name had you focusing on the visor of the helmet looking down at you as he sat partially up on his elbow. His other arm reached out for you, hand encompassing your cheek as he repeated his soft-spoken words. You leaned into his touch, something you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed of or embarrassed about at the moment. It just was, it was right, there was no thinking about it. “Do you want me to turn the light out?”

You reached out tentatively, fingers still twitching with the effort it was taking to restrain yourself from lunging at the man and wrapped your arms around the broad expanse of his bare chest. Fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. Nodding in an answer to his careful question as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His body moved around and underneath you to turn the light out, shrouding you both in darkness.

The helmet hushed against the fabric of his pillow as he laid down completely beside you. His strong arms came around you and pulled you flush against him, his legs tangling with your own beneath the blanket. Eyes already fluttering shut, you let out long exhale that faltered near the end. You were feeling completely at ease in the wake of that horrible nightmare, safe in this enclosed space, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the scent you associated with him.

The feeling of his even, steady pulse humming through his skin where your face was pressed into his neck lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

“I’ve got you.”  

The next morning, or what you assumed was the morning, due to time being hard to keep track during long space travel. It was something you weren’t sure you would ever get a handle on, not having much experience with longer space travel with the focus of seeking out hideaways. The ship had just dropped out of hyperspace, Din having set a random location in order to rest for the night with less threats. He was currently in the cockpit and you quelled the minor nerves at seeking him out after the breakfast you had made an effort to down alongside the Child.

You were cradling him on a hip as you climbed the ladder leading to the partial upper floor, his happy babbling announcing your arrival to the armored man before you physically entered the room. Setting him down in the chair to the right of the door, you turned your attention to the front of the room.

“I chose Tatooine, a few years ago.” Your voice was quiet, nearly a whisper as you walked up behind the pilot’s chair. Eyes trained on the hologram display of nearby planets. “My hideout should still be intact if the sands haven’t swallowed it. I had just installed new moisture farming equipment before…”

Tatooine looked much the same way as it did all those years ago when you picked it out of all the options you had assembled for a good hideout. Washed out and pale as you gazed at the display of the planet before you.

“That’s where….I thought we were when you took me from that compound.”

“Its an easy mistake to make, both are mostly open desert.” He was watching you as you flipped through the rest of the planets displayed as possible locations for the ship to land next, though he had already programmed it for Tatooine. The ships settings displaying as much when you checked the flight path. You could feel the weight of his visor on you as you boldly did so, not having asked to enter the control room let alone mess with the things he was organizing. You turned to face him with a deadpan look, punctuated by a single raised brow and mouth tight in a firm line.

“A fool’s mistake.”

“You’re not a fool, those kriffng bandits were.”

“Landscape here is more limestone, red rock more prominent on Arvala-7.” You gestured to the display with a wave of your hand.

Any other conversation to be had was put on hold the second a warning alarm trilled from the control panel. It was only a second’s notice before blaster shots landed on the starboard side of the ship. Your legs tensed as you tried to keep your balance through the turbulence, hands going out to grip onto anything within reach. It happened to be the armrest of the pilot’s chair. Your head swiveled around to see the Child’s frantic look, eyes wide and sounds of upset falling from him in a steady stream.

“Dank ferrick, we got someone on our tail. Sit down and buckle up, mesh’la.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

[peterpparkrr]

Starlight (pt. 1)

Series: Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A Mandalorian and a Jedi. Din Djarin needs a Jedi to train the child. The Jedi is surprised to discover that she is not alone in the universe. 

A/N: s3 means new Mandalorian thoughts!

Your life had been a lonely one. But it was the isolation that kept you safe.

You often wondered if you shouldn’t be trying harder to look for other survivors, but every time you tried to reach out through the force you just felt… nothing. 

The Jedi were gone. 

And so it was safer for you to stay out here on your own little planet by yourself, where you knew no one would find you. 

Until one day you heard the sound of twigs snapping under boots in the woods outside.

You moved to the window, silently watching as a figure stepped out of the trees.

“A Mandalorian,” You muttered to yourself as you stood up and walked over to your doorway.

You hadn’t seen a true Mandalorian in the flesh before. And you hadn’t seen armored men since you were a child. Since your master’s Battalion had turned on you. 

“I will give you a chance to leave here with your life, Mandalorian,” You state loudly as you step out of your hut and into the clearing in front of your home. 

“I am not here to-”

“-You need to leave,” You told the stranger before igniting your lightsaber with a familiar buzz, “Now.” 

You attacked without a moment of hesitation, hoping to capture the element of surprise against your larger opponent.

You’d been alone for a long time. But that hadn’t meant you’d given up training. 

Even with no master to guide you you’d worked hard to excel at your skills and had done your best to continue your training. Your master had always teased you for being a teacher’s pet. Though the end goal was no longer clear. You wouldn’t be a Jedi master.

The Jedi were well and truly gone.

But you would always be able to protect yourself.

As you swiped your lightsaber against the Mandalorian’s chest you were certain that this fight was already over. But your saber glanced off the armor in a way that made you second-guess yourself. 

Maker. Mandalorian armor was made of Beskar, wasn’t it?

That’s when you felt it. You all but dropped your lightsaber as you whipped around. 

A youngling? Here?

It only took you a few short strides before you were in front of the open cradle. Big, green ears were the first thing you saw, shortly followed by huge eyes that stared up at you. You plucked the child out of it’s cradle without a second thought. 

“How…”

You hadn’t felt this feeling in years. 

But his voice was clear inside your mind as he communicated with you.

Friends. Promise.

“You? You brought him here?” You asked the Mandalorian curiously.

“Yes,” The Mandalorian replies. Seemingly accepting your sudden change of mind as your eyes moved back to the small creature in your hands.

“We’ve been searching the galaxy for someone who can help him, who can teach him how to use his powers,” He says.

You hum quietly as your eyes bore into the child’s

What’s your name?

Grogu. 

This is my papa. People call him Mando.

You tell both of them your name aloud as you grin down at the boy.

The Mandalorian. Mando. Merely stares at you, his helmet impermeable. 

“You’re a Jedi.”

“Depends on your definition,” You reply. “The Jedi were killed in a genocide when the Empire seized power. The few who survived were hunted down and killed under the Empire’s regime.”

“My master kept us hidden from the Empire for years. She trained me here, under the radar of the Empire,” You explain. “She died a few years ago fighting with the rebellion.”

“But why does a Mandalorian have a force-sensitive foundling? I would have thought you’d have killed him the moment you found out what he was,” You ask quietly. 

“Why?” The Mandalorian asks you, his helmet cocked.

“Well, the two don’t usually get along. The Jedi-Mandalorian War? It ravaged Mandalore. Prior to the Empire. Jedi-Mandalorian relations have been pretty tense ever since,” You explain.

“I was a foundling, my covert left many gaps in the Mandalorian history they taught us,” He replies.

“How did you find each other?”

Saved me.

“I was- am a bounty hunter, he was a quarry,” Mando tells you, you can hear the slight tinge of shame in his tone. 

“I’ve taken him as a foundling, it’s Mandalorian creed,” Mando continues. “I’m duty-bound to either reunite him with his kind or raise him until he’s of age.”

“So… you want to dump him off here with me?” You ask, “I’m his kind?”

“How did you even find me?” 

“A trader on the next planet over told me I might find you here, that there were rumors years ago about a Jedi. Stories. But the child — Grogu — got excited as we entered the atmosphere and I assumed that meant we were close.”

“I’ll… I’d like to visit, I can bring you supplies, whatever you need,” Mando offers. “I don’t want to leave him. But I can’t train him to control his powers.”

“Alright,” You finally reply with a nod. You can’t help but wonder if this is really a good idea, but Grogu reminds you of yourself in those early years of the Empire’s reign. And you hate to admit it, but their sudden appearance makes it clear that you’ve been lonely. Two stranger’s appearing at your doorstep has made you more excited than anything has for the last five years. And maybe even longer.

You watched from your doorstep as the pair said their goodbyes. Despite knowing they weren’t saying goodbye forever it was clear they were both taking this separation hard. You turned away in an effort to give them some semblance of privacy, even though their emotions were flowing off them both like ocean waves breaking against a cliff.

“We’ll see you soon,” You tell the Mandalorian when he hands Grogu to you. “May the force be with you, Mando.”

“You miss him,” You tell Mando plainly. 

Every few weeks the Mandalorian would come visit, and spend hours with Grogu while you quietly watched. Sometimes you’d all sit together, Grogu was always eager to show Mando what he had learned, or you’d share with Mando what you’d learned from Grogu about his past, what he couldn’t communicate with his father. 

And they’d say a heartfelt, private goodbye before you’d bid Mando farewell and good luck.

You and Grogu both knew that you were always waiting for the Mandaloran’s next visit. It was only natural, you told yourself. It was a routine. And it was only natural that you latch on to it.

But now it was causing a block in your training. 

“When you’re gone, you miss him, I can feel it, even without trying,” You continue when Mando doesn’t reply. You’ve grown used to that too with his visits. He’s a man of few words. You’ve often wondered if it’s a result of the helmet he wears at all times, or a convenient excuse provided by the helmet to a naturally shy man. 

“Grogu’s the same way when you leave,” You add gently. “I’m a poor substitute for you. And I make him work which he doesn’t like.”

“That’s not true,” Mando protests. “He likes you. I can tell.”

“It’s creating a block. He can’t truly push through his fears when he’s so focused on his attachment to you,” You try to explain to him. You know that he doesn’t understand the force or the way that it works. Whenever you try and explain what you’re teaching Grogu he nods, but you can tell he has many questions. 

You’d be happy to explain what he finds confusing, but he never voices the questions and it’s hard to describe what is often so indescribable about the ways of the force to someone who has no experience with it.

“You want me to stop visiting,” Mando says after a moment.

“No! No, of course not,” You reply quickly. You could never, 

It would seem so impossibly cruel to separate the two. Even though they are not bound by blood. The father and son are inseparable and care for one another more than you’ve ever seen two people bound to one another.

“I think you should take us with you,” You tell him. “Wherever it is you’re going next.”

“My work is dangerous,” He reminds you. 

You know that. You’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Since before his last visit. You know the threats posed to you out in the world. Especially in the sectors of the outer rim where Mando does most of his work. But you’ve weighed the dangers. It’s what’s best for all of you. The risks are worth it.

“You’ve been safe here, protected from the world for a long time, haven’t you?” Mando says.

“I have,” You reply. “But I’m tired of hiding. And I can certainly protect myself and Grogu.”

“Okay,” Mando replies with a nod. 

You’re eyes widen slightly as you study the visor of Mando’s helmet. You hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so quickly. You’d had all sorts of other arguments prepared. Answers to all the potential concerns and questions he might have. 

But you should have realized he wouldn’t protest. He missed his child. His foundling. Of course he would take you with him. 

“You tell Grogu, I’ll pack our things,” You reply with a smile as you stand from your seat and turn back to your small cabin, already cataloging all of the belongings you have, and what you’ll be able to travel with.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

So Darkness I Became

1200 words for 1200 followers #7

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! The idea for this one jumped up and bit me on the nose almost immediately, and I know it’s a little out there, but I hope you still enjoy it! This takes place in the time before Din rejoins the covert, when he’s still just going from bounty to bounty to pass the time without Grogu and trying to figure out what the heck to do with the damn Darksaber. I have two more requests for Din for this event, and right now I *think* one of them might be a follow up to this... but we’ll see.  💚

Warnings: not much, honestly. mild angst and canon-typical danger. 

Requested By: @prolix-yuy​ Song: Cosmic Love Character Choice: LJ gave me the options of Din or Ezra, correctly asserting that this song is perfect for both of the space boys - and to my surprise, being an Ezra girl, I decided to go with Dinjamin. Thank you for sending this one in, darling! I hope you enjoy where I took it! 

Summary: You and Din have been working together for a while now, but there are still more things that you don’t know about each other than you do. That doesn’t stop you from feeling how you feel, though. When Din follows a lead that he hopes will yield information on the Darksaber’s previous owners, you find out if those feelings are enough to make you risk everything to help him. 

“Stay with the ship.” 

Those were his last words to you before disappearing through the door. The hefty metal plate slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the empty hull and resonating through your bones. Watching him go felt wrong - cold and final. Though you tried, you couldn’t stave off the thought that he wouldn’t return. 

No. You swallowed hard. He will. He always does. 

The two of you had been working together for a year. It had been a partnership of desperation at first - you out of ammo and on the run from the brothers of some Klatooinian capo you’d turned in, and Din armed to the teeth but without a ride off-world. He’d helped you dispatch the brothers, and you’d taken him where he needed to go, and then you had meant to part ways. But before you could refuel, he had shown back up at the spaceport with a handful of bounty pucks and the proposition of teaming up and splitting the profits on them. 

It was only supposed to be until he saved up enough for his own ship. But that mark had come and gone and you were still a team of two, and though neither of you had opened up, neither of you seemed eager to suggest that you split up, the unspoken threat of loneliness enough to keep you tethered. 

Even when the types of jobs you took became more personal than profitable, like the one that you were currently on. On Dathomir. 

The name alone was enough to chill you. You had never set foot there, and you never intended to. Dathomir was dangerous, its landscape as unforgiving as the creatures that inhabited it. But its history of malevolence left the planet scarred in ways that terrified you. You’d heard rumors of a vergence there, a well of Dark side energy that was powerful enough to corrupt anyone who fell prey to it, especially those who were in tune with the Force.

Like me. 

You shuddered, recalling what you’d said to convince him not to chase whatever knowledge he sought, careful not to reveal your secret. “Dathomir’s a one-way ticket, Djarin. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die in a bog.” 

You’d always hidden your abilities, knowing that it was your best chance at survival - and that meant that despite spending the last year with him, Din didn’t know. You weren’t sure how he would react to learning that you were Force-sensitive, but if it meant losing him you weren’t willing to risk it. Just like you weren’t sure how he’d react to learning that you had started to develop feelings for him. You kept those to yourself, too. 

He’d answered with a tilt of his helmet. “I won’t ask you to follow me. But if there’s something I can learn there about this?” He gestured to the hilt at his waist. “I have to go. This is the Way.” 

You knew as soon as he used that phrase there was no changing his mind. All you could hope for was an urgent call to pull him away before you reached the Quelli sector. It never came. 

So you waited, eyes glued to the monitor that tracked his location. You held your breath as you watched the little throb of light descend into a cave. That same cold feeling you had when he left slithered through every fiber of your being as the beacon on the screen blinked - and then blacked out. 

Your heart lurched. With shaking hands you smacked the monitor, hoping it was a glitch, but the beacon was gone. No! 

You were half-way down the ladder before the comm link on your wrist crackled, his voice coming through speaking your name. “You – right. – shouldn’t have – here. You – – go!“ 

“Din!” Your pulse smashed against your eardrums as you responded. “ I’m not leaving you. I’m…” You choked on tears you didn’t know were falling. “I’m coming.” 

“No.” More interference bled through the speaker. Beneath it you could hear him groan in pain. “You – “ He let out another distressed sound. “Go!” 

And then the comm cut out, too. 

In that instant, you made the choice that you realized never was one. Nothing could keep you from going after him, not even your fear of the Dark side. You didn’t even stop to arm yourself, bypassing the weapons locker and heading straight for the door, leaping from the ship. Without turning back, you raised your right hand across your body and over your shoulder, swiveling your wrist so that your palm faced the sky, and then clenching your fist and bringing it back down, the door of the ship slamming shut. 

Without the beacon or the comms you would have to focus to find him. You silenced your thoughts as you ran, concentrating on Din - on the way his solid presence felt beside you, on the way you could feel his heartbeat when you reached across the cockpit with the Force. You followed your instincts until you were at the mouth of the cave he had disappeared into, and then it wasn’t just a feeling. 

You could hear his heart beating in the dark. 

It was slow and weak, but the rhythm was unmistakably his. You pushed further into the cave until the air was thick and you couldn’t see beyond your nose. The relief you felt was fleeting, though, as suddenly the space was lit with an eerie green light… reflecting off Beskar armor. 

At the far end of the cave, near what appeared to be an altar, you saw him slumped against the stone, glowing green tendrils coiled around his chest. 

“He is ours.” A disembodied voice hissed.

“He has brought it back to us. The Darksaber.” 

“And now he is our soldier.” 

To your horror, the visor on Din’s helmet glowed the same green as he hovered to his feet, and you knew there was only one thing you could do to save him - the thing you feared the most. But you didn’t hesitate. Reaching far beyond your limits, you tapped into the Darkness, harnessing it instead of pushing it away. 

“No.” You growled, slowly shaking your head and reaching out with your right hand. Curling your fingers and twisting your wrist in the air, you ripped the hilt of the obsidian blade from Din’s belt. “You will not use him. You will not take him.” The sword flew to your grasp and you ignited it instantly. “You will release him, or I will destroy this cave and you along with it.” 

It felt like crumbling, letting that much power flow through you. But you fought it, focusing on the faint sound of his heartbeat. The voices shrieked and wailed, retreating into the Darkness. Just as you thought you would break, Din was released from his trance. 

As soon as he was free you dropped to your knees, panting and dizzy, but before you lost consciousness you felt his gloved hands land on your shoulders. At his touch you felt a wave of calm wash over you, your name the last thing you heard before you fell into his arms. 

Safe. We’re safe now, Din. 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor​ @gollyderek​​ @pheedraws​​ @beautifuldesastre​​ @alraedesigns​ @valkblue​  @fific7​  @commanderlola​  @cannedsoupsucks​ @dihra-vesa​ @marauderskeeper​ @disgruntledspacedad​ @littlemisspascal​ @mishasminion360​ @stevie75​ @nyctophiliiiiaaa​ @practicalghost​ @tanzthompson​ @harriedandharassed​ @woodlandmouth​ @thescarletfang​ @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar​ @WildMoonFlower @mswarriorbabe80​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​ @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​ @jedi-in-crocs​ @hannahkatharine​ @anoverwhelmingdin​ @chiyo13​ @myloveistoolittle​ @spishsstuff @noisynightmarepoetry 

[shnargo]

i cannot write for the life of me and i blame it entirely on beta.character.ai.

but anyways, here's a blurb that i really liked in collaboration with chara.ai with an idea that is based entirely on @softlyspector 's little drabble here (i highly recommend it :))

-

pairings: din djarin x reader warnings: none ; female!reader, 3rd POV and reader is a Jedi! also i haven't seen anything star wars beyond a few episodes of the Mandalorian, so any terms and facts here are LIKELY incorrect. word count: 1969 a/n: character.ai has me in a chokehold, but i might share more of these blurbs if people like them.

-

"Have you ever kissed someone?" She blurts before she can filter the thought, but even as she registers her own question, no embarrassment rises up to her face whatsoever. She tends to be rather straightforward when she gets tired.

Din freezes, his face expressionless. 

He takes a long pause before looking away, back towards her as he faces the stars that streak by outside of the cockpit. He seems to need a few moments to consider his words. 

“Yes,” he says, “why?”

She shrugs, "Just curious I guess. I know 'the Way' doesn't allow you to take off your helmet just to anyone. Though now I'm wondering who the lucky person was." She grins mischievously.

His face tenses as she brings up ‘The Way,’ seemingly annoyed by the topic, he turns to look at her again with a frown that can be felt even through his helmet. 

“It’s not just a tradition, it’s a way of life. I was raised in a clan of Mandalorians, and my people have a very strong code of honor that I live by,” he says, his voice stern. 

He takes a deep breath and continues, “As for who I dated, it was someone I met when I was younger. We didn’t work out.”

She can hear the annoyance creep into his tone despite the voice modulator in his helmet, and she shrinks back ever so slightly. "Ah okay." Her answer's short, and it's obvious by her body language, apologetic.

He seems to soften as he sees the effect of his words. 

“It’s okay. It really is. I just… I take my honor seriously, and I take it personally when people belittle me for it,” he tells her, “I apologize if I sounded like I was yelling at you.”

Din’s shoulders relax, and his voice turns gentle as he continues, “You have the right to ask those questions. It’s just… a sensitive topic.”

She nods thoughtfully, "I didn't mean to come off as belittling, I was just genuinely curious." She explains, "But I'll be sure not to be so careless next time."

She glances up at him again, "And if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop asking those kinds of questions." She means it genuinely from a place of care.

He smiles, “It’s okay. You’re curious, and I shouldn’t take that as an attack. It’s just…how did your Jedi master respond to you dating, I mean, do the Jedi have rules about that sort of thing?” 

Din cocks his head to the side as if trying to understand how the Jedi’s rules would function when it comes to their members becoming romantically involved.

"Ah, yeah, there's a whole thing with Jedis too." She chuckles. "We're not allowed to marry, or get romantically involved with others. Strong emotions can be used as a weakness to the dark side." She pauses after that, before softly adding, "But uh, technically speaking, kissing is fine. Long as it's nothing serious."

Din looks thoughtful while she speaks, “So you’re saying there’s an approved degree of emotional involvement, so long as you don’t lose your focus on the light side of the force?”

"Yeah essentially, though all that stuff I mentioned is part of the old order. More traditional, so to speak." She shrugs, "Still what I was taught though."

Din nods, “I see. And those rules are still in effect for modern Jedi, yes?” 

He looks at her curiously, “What do you think of those old rules? Do you think they’re still necessary?” 

He seems genuinely curious to hear her perspective.

"Hm, yes and no." She pauses, glancing around shiftily, "Call me a hypocrite, but I think forcefully suppressing your emotions might just end up accomplishing the same bad thing." She whispers conspiratorially, but in a joking way.

Din is a little surprised by her answer, but he nods and smiles, “I totally agree. If anything, you should be encouraged to express your emotions, even if you’re a Jedi, right? Suppressing them completely just seems…unhealthy.” 

He shakes his head with a slight chuckle, “Then again, I’m not a Jedi, so what do I know?"

She looks curious again when he says that though, "Does that thought process apply the same to what you think of Mandalorian traditions?" She asks cautiously, "I'm asking out of curiosity." She clarifies.

Din is quiet for a moment, “I mean, some of our traditions are pretty…archaic, as you might say,” he replies, seeming to be picking his words carefully. 

“Like the rules regarding helmet removal. But other parts of the code are good, we’re supposed to value honor and duty, for example. Not just to ourselves, but to our clans and our people. I’d definitely say those parts are necessary.”

"Yeah, of course." She can't help but wonder.. "Can I ask who exactly you're allowed to show your face to though?"

Din sighs, “It’s complicated. Basically, it’s people that are closest to me. My family, so my parents and sisters, and my closest friends. My clan members, because they’re pretty much family, and of course Grogu. I can’t really show it to anyone else, though I might consider doing it for…a partner.” 

He stares down at the control board of the Crest, his face slightly red underneath the helmet, “That said, it’s not something I’d do casually.”

"That makes sense." She says with a nod. She interprets that reaction as maybe she's making him uncomfortable, so she decides not to push any further with the topic.

But as they sit in silence for a few minutes and she gets more sleepy, she can't keep herself from asking softly, "Hypothetically, could you take your helmet off around someone who has their eyes closed? Or who's blind?"

Din thinks for a second. 

“I think so. I’m a little shaky on how that part of the code works. My parents taught me never to remove it unless I’ve got a reason,” he answers truthfully and earnestly, trying to be helpful. 

Din laughs, “Now you’ve got me wondering,” he says with a smile, “Any particular reason why you’re asking?”

In her sleepy state, she almost admits the fact she's curious about the whole thing because the thought of kissing him has crossed her mind a few times before. But she bites her tongue before the words can escape her. She gives an unconvincing shrug and says, "Just wondering." instead.

Din isn’t stupid, he can see through that ‘just wondering’ a mile away. 

He turns to look at her, raising an eyebrow under his helmet, “You can say what’s on your mind, ya know? I wouldn’t care if you were curious about that,” his tone is reassuring as he gives her permission to ask.

She pauses to consider the offer. But really, she's scared of what might happen if he rejects her, since she really enjoys the current relationship they have now, not matter how ambiguously it lies on the scale of platonic to romantic. She just gives another shrug, pretending she's too tired by now.

Din sighs internally. Just say it, you idiot. He thinks.

Instead of pushing for an answer, he decides to try a different tactic. He turns back forward and says in a casual, casual manner, “Do you know the Mandalorian way of flirting?” 

He seems to have gone off on a tangent, as if it’s not an obvious lead-up, but he stares out the window of the Crest in the direction of the stars. “It’s called Jol’ey, you show your interest for someone by offering them your helmet.”

"Jol'ey?" She repeats the Mando'a term with a curious lilt in her tone. "How can you offer someone your helmet if you're not supposed to take it off though?" She can't help but ask.

Din chuckles, “Right, you caught me on that one, huh?” he says, looking at her again. 

“I’m not sure how exactly the practice started, but the meaning of it is basically you’re offering them a part of you, of your most private self, not just physically but spiritually. You’re making an important and very personal gesture to show them you care about them, deeply.”

She can't help but smile as well as she considers the idea, "I think that's actually kinda cute." It's an expression of love, but in a more meaningful and symbolic way, she thinks.

“Yeah,” his face softens under the helmet, and his voice turns almost soft at the edges for a moment, “it’s a very personal thing to do, so it’s not something Mandalorian do casually. Like I said, there are rules, and it’s a pretty serious thing to do. But I’d argue that there’s no stronger way for Mandalorian to express affection for someone.”

She nods a little, not exactly sure how to respond to that verbally other than a yeah or an okay. She is starting to wonder.. why did he bring that up all of a sudden though? And it becomes obvious by her expression.

The meaning of what Din just told her seems to be setting in, and at the same time she has a question on her mind. 

“Hypothetically, if I did offer you my helmet, would you accept?” Din’s voice is gentle as he asks her, “What do you think about that?”

She blinks a few times, letting the question settle for a moment. A beat of nerve racking silence passes between them and her expression morphs into shock at the implications he just explained to her.

"I think," she starts slowly with an ever softer voice than before, "..I would accept."

"Really?" Din asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he talks. 

He sets the Crest on autopilot, turning his seat to face her. 

In a whisper, and still speaking casually, he asks, "Would you want me to offer it to you?"

She's surprised as she sees him turn to her, and goes to do the same as red creeps up to her cheeks.

"Hypothetically," She continues with the term, though really it's more than just a 'hypothetical' and he knows that, "I would want that.. a lot." She almost whispers those last couple words.

Din laughs and says, "You can lose the hypotheticals now," he says playfully as he leans in. 

"I'd be happy to give you my helmet." He says the words plainly, as if he's just stating a fact, "But...do you know what it means to be a Mando'ade partner? It's...not just about romance."

Her cheeks redden further when he leans in, but she nods at his question.

"Is it the kind of thing that would break the old order's Jedi Code?" She says with a little smile, meaning the kind of attachment that would be 'dangerous' but incredibly deep and meaningful.

“Yeah, Jedi’s have rules about attachment, but in Mandalorian culture, attachment is basically the whole point. Attachment to your family, your clan, you’re friends, the land and culture. Attachment isn’t just tolerated, it’s encouraged, and there’s no greater attachment than being a Mando’ade.” 

He leans in closer and gives her one last choice, “You sure you want me to do that?”

Honestly, the very fact he's offering, makes it all the more touching. Her expression softens as she nods again.

"Sounds like you're proposing to me, Din." She says his name with gentle fondness, "Even so, I would say yes."

Din laughs. “Yeah, it is kinda like a marriage proposal in Mando culture. Except it’s more like a promise of complete devotion and care,” he says as he pulls his helmet off. 

He gives her another quick smile, his face reddened a bit as he gives her his helmet, “I’ve never done this for anyone else, so consider this my way of showing you what you’re worth to me. You mean a lot to me, and I want you to know it.”

masterlist

[dameronalone]

please elaborate on the jedi and mandalorians

I am SO glad you asked I've been thinking about this a lot for awhile

basically, the mandalorians and the jedi have wayyyyy more in common than either they think or would like to believe. the venn diagram with the overlap of mandos and jedi is nearly a circle. obviously their biggest difference is that the mandalorian's first instinct is to hit back, while the jedi would prefer hitting back as a LAST resort

readmore for everyone else's sake

but they really do have so much in common. both are a highly specific cultures with imo closed communities (it's not that they don't like "outsiders" but not just anyone can be part of the group) and despite being such a small percentage of the population of the galaxy, they are both nearly instantly recognizable. they both have core principles that they cling to. they are both misunderstood by outsiders because of their closed practices and they were both massacred by the empire. they both value family. maybe the jedi wouldn't phrase it that way exactly, and the mandalorian would say something about blood bonds, but the point is that the strongest relationship were familial.

just look at any of the main mandalorian characters or the jedi. anakin and obi-wan. bo-katan and satine. din and grogu. leia and rey. familial. I'm trying to think - I believe the only romantic relationship focused on with a mandalorian was satine and obi-wan (which is fascinating for entirely different reasons I don't have time to get into)

again, they do have very different philosophies: the mandalorians are a militaristic society and the jedi value peace above all else. we all know how satine's pacifistic efforts turned out (you can't change an entire society's philosophy of the society is not willing to change).

the jedi and mandalorians are both highly skilled fighters when it comes to it and though historically tend to clash because of their opposing ideals, when they DO work together their shared outcome almost always ends in success. I like the little "a jedi and a mandalorian? they'll never see it coming" because it still hinges on the fact that the rest of society still misunderstand both cultures and take them at face value. of course the fighter and the peacekeeper will never get alone, must less fight together. but the jedi tempers the mandalorian and the mandalorian encourages the particular breed of boldness in the jedi

(off topic: my slight beef with making sabine force sensitive in the ahsoka show is because I feel like it takes away from her arc in the cartoon. she became balanced as a fighter and strategist because of kanan's influence while still being a proud mandalorian. you don't have to be force sensitive to hold jedi principles. I just feel like it takes from kanans legacy idk)

the point is that the mandalorians and the jedi have so much in common, if it weren't for the conflicting philosophies of combat / peacekeeping, they would be feared allies. they ARE feared allies, the times they've teamed up. some of the strongest fighters have been the ones that truly embodied both jedi and mandalorian principles. I can't imagine how powerful tarre vizla must have been, I don't even mean from like a strength perspective, i mean the combination of both philosophies is buckwild. and I'm not saying one philosophy is better or worse than the other. the mandalorians survived so long against the empire because of their relentless refusal to submit. palpatine knew he had to ambush the jedi and wipe them out if he wanted a chance for the empire to succeed. peacekeepers first. that doesn't necessarily mean they don't fight, because we know they do. when you're already at war, you fight against tyranny. the only way he beat the mandalorians and the jedi is by just. wiping them out with an onslaught neither could escape or prevent.

anyway it makes you wonder how many mandalorians are/were force sensitive and just did not go to the temple (take THAT babysnatchers jedi theorists) because you can't tell me there were NO other force sensitive mandalorians before or after tarre vizla. my beef with f-s sabine regardless its fun to see one of those late bloomer jedi stories in canon star wars the way we used to have in legends and I would like it if we got more of that.

[physically restraining myself from going off on that topic]

anyway. mandalorians. jedi. I love them both so so much. they mean so much to me. I don't know if this made any sense but it makes sense to me

[smilemoreimagines]

i would never fall unless it’s you i fall into (Din Djarin/Reader)

Chapter 1

length: 2,269

tw: canon-typical violence

author’s note: hey, it’s been a minute since I’ve written a fanfiction, I’m planning on this one being a slow burn sooo let’s buckle in for a bit, friends! reader is force-sensitive and autistic because I can’t help myself. each chapter will have its own trigger warning just so you know :) I hope you enjoy!

You grew up with former Jedi masters and padawans as your only guiding roles, loved and yet kept at arm’s length at the same time. It was a concept you never got, that need for aloofness, uncaring, detachment. You felt every emotion with every fiber of your being. Happiness was bliss. Sadness was misery. Anger was white hot, burning rage. 

You were taught the ways of the Jedi, trained—for a time anyway—as all of the other Force-sensitive younglings that made their way to your small clan on a forgotten moon in the Outer Rim. It was your family. You had no mother or father but you had an abundance of siblings. It just… shifted, slightly, when it became clear that you weren’t meant for the life of a Jedi. You were only eleven.

They tried to fit you into that mold, and you tried and tried to make yourself smaller, less, less of yourself so that you could just fit in like you yearned to, but your emotions would tangle up inside of you, growing until you burst. And that contradicts their way. You couldn’t help it. It was just how your brain worked. But you were a liability. They still trained you in meditation and simple hand to hand combat, which you were bad at, but you were no longer included in any lessons on the Force.

With a new hole in your life you naturally gravitated towards caring for the younglings still too small to train, and your help meant that all of the masters could be dedicated to the training of the new generation of Jedi. You were useful, appreciated. The older padawans would pat your head or squeeze a shoulder on the way out the door to lessons you were no longer welcome to join. You missed learning about this part of yourself.

You were never explicitly told not to use the Force anymore, though, just that you would no longer be able to walk the path of the Jedi. So, you started to train yourself. You would practice when the little ones were asleep, your abilities growing slowly as you felt out how things worked, what you could manipulate and what you couldn’t. As you learned, your power grew, until you were sixteen years old and you couldn’t hide your power from the masters anymore. If you didn’t use the Force often enough it would build up in you, similarly to your feelings, so you had to use it subtly more often. When they confronted you about your self-training everything came to a head in the absolute worst way and you had no choice but to leave the only home you’d ever known, as a teenager. 

Shit was hard, for a long time. You were so young, and naive, knowing next to nothing about anywhere outside of your tiny piece of the galaxy. It was pure luck you were even able to make it off-world in the first place. And you just wanted to assume the best of people. You were empathetic, to a fault. You were used, got hurt. After that you were almost always alone, save for brief moments stolen in a bed if you were lucky, or a bathroom, or a closet, quick and to the point. Alone for about fifteen years. 

And now, in the present moment, you were absolutely karked, being chased out of Mos Eisley by a bunch of idiots. You’d been in a cantina, drinking some type of cactus flower booze popular on Tatooine, and you were long enough into your night that yeah, maybe you were a little drunk. And maybe absentmindedly used the Force to slowly slide your drink from one end of the table to the other as you daydreamed. You were in a corner booth in the back and thought no one was looking, and the noise of the bar was pushing your brain to the point of feeling like you were buzzing. You came back into your body and flapped your hands a few times to get out the nervous energy of the overstimulation. 

Just your luck that a human man with a thing against Force-users glanced over and saw you right before you stopped, nudging his buddies to point out what you were doing with your glass. They drew their blasters without uttering a single word to you. No warning, no honor. The first shot went wide, missing you by a mile and alerting you to the unfriendlies as one of them spat, “Filthy Jedi. Thought they’d killed the last of you.” 

You whipped your hand out and they all slammed into the bar, some of them dropping their weapons, all of them losing their breath at the impact against the bar carved out of the ground. You were already at the door before any of them recovered enough to give chase. If you could just lose them in the streets you’d lay low for the night, grab your pack from the room you’d been renting,  and get a shuttle off-world in the morning. Stars knew you were ready to get off this planet. It was too kriffing hot. 

Before you managed to round the corner of the street–nearly empty, no crowd to get lost in at this hour even in Mos Eisley–another blaster shot went off. You heard it buzz past your ear, too close, and ran harder. They had the advantage of longer legs though and they gained on you easily, firing as you weaved your way through the streets. There was no way you were going to lose them in the city. 

You were no idiot, you kept a blaster on you at all times, and you’d already grabbed it from your thigh holster. You shot behind you blindly, getting a grunt of pain as reward. You weren’t above shooting a person or two. You just never shot to kill. But there were still more people giving chase than you could ever hope to shoot. You were nearing the outskirts of town and at this point your only hope was pretty much counting on them to not follow you into the desert. The Sand People were a big enough threat around here right now that most people would rather stay in the city and not risk it without a ship or speeders. 

It was usually empty out there. So imagine your surprise when you skidded around the last corner and saw a starship with its ramp down maybe a street’s length away. That could give you the cover you needed to make it to the hills where they definitely wouldn’t follow. You were booking it for the ship, desperate for its cover when there was another wave of blaster fire. This time, they shot true. This time, a bolt burned right through the outer edge of your thigh. You stumbled but didn’t fall, and now you were close enough to the starship to see an imposing figure in the doorway, tall and broad… But he was holding a tiny creature in his arms, that lifted its own hand to point in your direction. A father and child. 

There was no way you could make it to the hills, but you could make it to that karking ship, hole in your leg or not. You put in a burst of speed as the male figure lifted his own hand and slammed it into the button to close the exterior door. His armor flashed silver in the moonlight and all you could think was no way am I dying on fucking Tatooine. You were so close now that you could see when the little creature closed its eyes and held its hand in the air, body quivering in strained concentration. The raising of the ramp slowed the slightest bit, enough for you to launch yourself through the gap right as it slammed closed. 

“Dank farrik!” The man shouts a curse at you as you lay on the floor panting, his voice coming out rough and modulated. Your chest heaves as you fight for breath, unable to offer explanation as the blaster fire is now aimed at the ship. The man curses again, looking from you to the kid to the closed door and apparently comes to a decision as he whirls around in a dramatic flurry of cape and flashing armor. He climbs the ladder one handed, the little green thing peeking at you over his armored shoulder. 

You guess he’s gone to the cockpit and this is confirmed when the engine roars to life, taking off to get out of the range of fire at most before dumping you in the desert, but as you catch your breath you feel the ship leaving the atmosphere. No longer in immediate mortal danger you start to feel the blinding pain in your thigh. You feel around the spot tentatively and suck in a sharp breath–at least it didn’t hit your femoral artery–but when you sit up to assess the extent of the damage and subsequently see the durasteel floor straight through your leg, you think that it’s pretty justified when you let out a shout of, “What the kriff?” and promptly pass out.

When you wake up, you’re pretty sure you were only out for a few minutes, at most. Your hand twitches at your side before you’ve opened your eyes but when your fingers move you can feel that they’re wet. You groan and slowly open your eyes, blinking against the harsh artificial lights overhead, and when you prop yourself up with one arm you’re met by the sight of your own blood starting to form a puddle around your leg. 

Kriffing hell, you’ve never wished so badly that you’d been trained as a Jedi a little longer so that you could Force-heal yourself. Alas, as it stands, you don’t even have bacta patches, or gauze, for crying out loud, in your small day pack. You hadn’t exactly been planning on heading off-planet and didn’t have your duffel with you. The duffel containing all of your clothes, med kit, and most of your credits… You are so karking screwed.

Without any other options that you can see and your mind getting foggy from blood loss, you manage to call out in a voice rough from disuse, “Uh, I think I’m bleeding out on your floor?”

Part of you expects to get no reply. Easier to dump a body and mop up some blood than help a stranger who jumped onto your ship while being pursued by a bunch of blaster-happy assholes. But after just a moment, a little green head–wrinkly head? Not a child?–looks down at you from the open hatch in the ceiling, its dark eyes huge as it takes in what must be a pretty gruesome scene, before a large gloved hand scooches it from the edge as it gurgles and points at you insistently. So definitely a child? You’re so confused. The puddle around you is growing. Is it freezing on this ship or what? You shiver.

“Okay kid, alright. I’m going. Stay there.” That same modulated voice says softly, barely able to be heard over the engines rumbling beneath you.

A silver blur comes down the ladder. You blink and then he’s crouched next to you, lightly patting your cheek with his gloved hand, the helmet’s speaker crackling as he says, “Hey there, stowaway. Stay awake.” You want to say no, petulant as a child, because sleep sounds so good right about now. 

“No?” You open your eyes again–when did you close them?–at the snip of annoyance in his voice. 

Using your inside voice on the outside, not a great sign, but you can’t stop your mouth from moving. “Yeah,” you slur, “Cuz I don’t feel so good.” 

You haven’t been this injured since… no, even in this state you cut off that thought before it can form into a memory. This time the pat to your face is more of a slap, and you wake up with a breathless gasp. Stars, you feel like you're dying. 

“Stars, I feel like I’m dying,” you say aloud. Shoot, why are you doing that? It’s a miracle he can even make out the words, but he responds, “Dank farrik, you might be.” You frown at that. You don’t think you want to die quite yet. You raise your head, seeing spots, to see what he’s even karking doing, you can’t feel shit in your leg now, and see an open med kit, bacta shot syringe empty and your thigh holster unclipped on the floor, this huge armored man currently cutting your pants off with what looks like a hunting knife.

“Don’t do that,” you whimper, and that black T-shaped visor turns to look at you, unreadable. 

“It’s okay,” he says in a low, calming voice, “I just have to clean the area around the wound. You’re alright.”

He uses the bacta spray liberally, and you wince, hissing at the initial sharp sting. One hand, the leather of the glove soft on your skin, flattens on your leg, squeezing lightly, the touch distracting. He shifts you onto your side to clean the back of the wound as well. Phaser shots are nasty things. 

A nauseating shiver of anxiety runs through you, unbidden, from the feeling of your bare legs on a metal floor, a stab wound in your thigh… no, blaster shot through the thigh, your other leg, you’re not there… That must be the last straw though because you pass out, and this time you don’t wake up for what feels like a long, long time.

[im-poe-dameron]

STRENGTH AMONG STARS | KA'RA (stars)

a/n: i plotted this story in 2020 funnily enough and since then i've been debating on even posting it here. except i loved the idea too much to let it go and i finally began working on it again. so after years of debating, i finally figured why not. i hope you enjoy my darlings.

i don't keep a taglist anymore, but instead i have a library blog.

summary: the guardians of the whills. it is a tale known to few, but a legacy beloved by many. the only one you knew.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader (force sensitive)

warnings: not explicit, tiny bit of angst.

next chapter | series masterlist

One could wonder what a star is made of. Matter? Different pieces of materials all formed together, all combined, working in sync, to bring together the beauty that helps to form and shape the galaxy. That creates parts of the universe as a whole. The small glimmering pieces of light in the night sky that are admired because one can not truly say what they are made of.

Perhaps a wish is to be made on one that falls from that sky, and perhaps it may be granted. One will never be able to unearth the truth of it all, because to do so would be revealing the mysteries of the galaxy.

It was always at night that you sat outside of the temple, eyes trained on the sky, and a wish held in your heart. A routine of sorts that you’d made for yourself, because it kept you busy in a way, even though you had plenty to do. The others would roll their eyes, tell you that wishing upon stars was useless, but they never went against you. Instead, they continued to allow you to sit out there and watch the night sky in hopes that one day you’d join it.

In hopes that one day you’d be among the stars.

“Wishing again I see,” a voice came from behind you.

You didn’t respond, but you smiled instead. He wouldn’t be able to see you smile yet something told you he knew you would anyway. Chirrut sat beside you, his staff resting between his legs as he pointed his head to where he knew the sky was. How he could somehow see without sight amazed you continuously, but he would just tell you that he used the Force to help. That the Force was the one thing that could help.

“What do you wish for this time?” he asked.

Shrugging your shoulders, you focused on the single star that seemed to shine brighter than the others. “To be up there with them.”

He nodded. “To join the stars.”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?” He asked you this every night and your answer always remained the same, but tonight felt different. There was a shift in the air surrounding you, something calling out to you. Unlike before where it remained silent, peaceful, this brought with it the bitter taste of chaos. The lingering fear that things weren’t meant to stay this way for very long.

“I want to know what it’s like,” you whispered. That was true for the most part. You did want to travel the stars, did want to know what it was like to be among them, but you also wanted adventure.

The Temple of the Whills is where you were raised, where you were trained underneath Chirrut to become someone like him. A Guardian of the Whills, protector of Kyber. You were to take over in his spot and while you didn’t mind the duty, while you found peace in the work and pride in the title. You still found yourself longing to be somewhere else; to be something else entirely. Why? You couldn’t say, but it stuck with you day in and day out, until you found yourself outside every night wishing for that exact thing.

“The stars aren’t going to grant you wishes.” He told you out right as always and you knew he did it because you needed to hear it. “Trust the Force young one and you’ll find your path soon enough.”

It rarely made sense to you, why he told you to trust the one entity you couldn’t see or feel, but you didn’t question him about it. He’d been alive longer than you had; seen more than you would probably ever see.

“I thought only Jedi were able to use the Force.” You knew of them, had heard the stories, but you’d never known one personally, never saw how in fact they used the Force. Perhaps it truly was all stories; one’s to keep others hopeful. Or maybe it was the truth, but you’d never be able to find out for sure.

Chirrut smiled. “The Force is all around us, surrounding us. They are able to bend it, use it how they wish, but it is not only specific for them. We as the Guardians of the Whills, the ones who protect the Kyber crystals, depend on it as well. The Force is not a myth as you believe it to be.”

“I don’t think it’s a-”

“But you do. I can tell you do not trust it completely when you should. You, out of everyone in this Temple, should trust the Force.” He tapped his staff on the ground twice drawing your full attention to him. “Many don’t believe in the Jedi’s existence. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because they do not see the Force as something that could be real. This temple houses the Kyber crystals, used in creating a Jedi’s weapon, but it also draws a strong connection to the Force. It is why we must believe in it; why we have to see it as vital in what we do.” His words struck something in you that you believed to have been gone. There were reasons in everything, in why you were raised here, why you didn’t know where you came from.

You sighed. “How do I know that this is where I’m meant to be?”

The doubt probably came off of you in waves, letting him know exactly what you were thinking, but there would be no way to push it away. That’s what you’d done for so long; pushed down the feelings of being lost, of wanting more, because you truly believed this was where you belonged. Except every once in a while, when you would stare up at the stars and make your silly little wish, the doubts would return and remind you of where you were.

“We never know where we are meant to be young one.” He stood from where he sat. “Come with me. You have to finish your readings.”

Glancing up to the sky, you focused on the brightest star you always set your sights on. “I wonder what you are.”

You weren’t saying it to anyone in particular, just to yourself. Perhaps that’s all it would ever be to you. A bright star in the night sky that you spoke to in hopes of regaining something back to yourself. In hopes of knowing who you truly were. That shift in the air, in the Force or whatever it was came back to you again. A new feeling of something coming, but you brushed it off, calling it a figment of your imagination.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to believe him, you did. Something else entirely kept you from believing that the stories of the Jedi were real, that they were indeed a part of the reality in which you lived. It was that if they were true, then that would mean they were truly defeated. That there only survived a few. And that is what kept you from believing, from putting your complete faith in it, because you couldn’t understand how.

You asked Chirrut once what happened to them, how they vanished, and he told you the truth. He revealed to you about the horrid order that was set into motion, the one that now left you in a galaxy with no protectors. Although you supposed that you were now one of those protectors. The ones who kept the last piece of the Jedi, the last hope they had, safe from the Empire.

Leaving the outdoors, you re-entered the temple and prepared yourself for the amount of reading that needed to be done. Except there still lingered in the air, in your body that faint tug of something somewhere. Telling you continuously that this would no longer be the same. That the pain, the agony that was endured before this would not cease to end anytime soon. But you pushed it away, and focused on the task at hand.

There was no time for hopes that only lie in the graves of former heroes. No time for the suspicions that plagued you day in and day out, because you wouldn’t be able to do anything about them either way.

Stopping in the archway of the entrance you faced that single lonesome star once more. The one that you felt akin to like an old friend you hadn’t seen in quite some time, and you sighed. Let out the air in your lungs, because you hoped, wished, that would get rid of the feeling that continued to linger in your heart. Perhaps one day you could believe in the Jedi, give yourself a chance to understand that they had to have existed.

A small tender feeling of hope rose in your chest the longer you continued to watch the star. “I am one with the Force...” you paused, turning back to the building, to where your future lay ahead of you. “...and the Force is with me.”

[bikananjarrus]

updates from the land of the ahsoka show tv spot nonsense (aka i have got to stop fucking watching these bc i’m just going into these little rage spirals)

(sorry in advance, this got kinda long.)

from the master & apprentice tv spot:

first we had this from kathleen kennedy

and while i get she was probably going for the ‘rosario is a good actress and we don’t think any other actor could play ahsoka in live action’ sentiment, it just comes off as SO dismissive of ashley eckstein’s work as ahsoka.

ashley isn’t featured in this video at all, and there’s really only one mention of her doing “great work” as ahsoka in the clone wars. much more emphasis was put on filoni and his work bringing the character to life, and his journey with the character. (as a writer he should get credit for his work writing the character, but none of that writing would’ve been brought to life without ashley).

this just feels like such an insult to ashley, who recently just talked about how much backlash she got when ahsoka first came on screen. she had to deal with so much hate, and it just feels a little ick that they’re still hardly talking about her in these behind the scenes videos. (and the additional ick about rosario’s ahsoka getting so much attention and praise, and how that ties into live action being valued over animation, but that’s a separate rant).

AND THEN, there’s this nonsense from filoni:

i just. where do I even begin with how much i hate the integration of sabine into this lineage?

i’ve talked a bit about it previously, but i just don’t understand the angle of making sabine (who is a mandalorian and very proud of it!!!) into a jedi apprentice!!! and i hate this angle! i don’t see how this will help sabine grow and develop—she’s already a incredibly well-trained warrior, including lightsaber training! because KANAN TAUGHT HER!!!! will she ever be as good as anakin or ahsoka or other jedi? no. But she doesn’t need to be.

and wielding the darksaber in the first place wasn't even really about learning how to use a lightsaber for the sake of using a lightsaber, or because sabine secretly wanted to be a jedi. kanan taught her how to use it because he and fenn rau knew she would be challenged once other mandalorians saw her with it. and they were hoping that she could help unite mandalorians, but other mandalorians weren't going to respect her if she couldn't hold her own with the lightsaber.

and if this is some weird way of trying to have sabine carry on the legacy of kanan and ezra, this is a dumb way to do it. there are plenty of other ways she can honor them (the huge beautiful mural she painted on lothal, for one! protecting lothal in general! And uhhh finding ezra?? instead of filoni saying she stuck around lothal the entire war???). and also, by tying her "jedi training" to ahsoka, that's not really honoring kanan and ezra, because they were part of mace windu's jedi legacy, NOT anakin's! (well, yoda's, but you know. for the sake of that quote from filoni, anakin's).

not everything has to be about anakin's lineage! but filoni is making it that way. this jedi training isn't about sabine, it's about ahsoka. and if he's trying to say something about ahsoka suddenly being a teacher, or what her being a teacher says about her past with anakin, i highly doubt he will do it in a way that's interesting or true to the character, because for filoni, ahsoka always has to be perfect and can do no wrong. and yet, even though she refused to teach grogu because of his attachments to din, she's suddenly super okay with teaching sabine, who has way more attachments than grogu??

like if filoni REALLY wanted ahsoka to be a master so badly, jacen syndulla, an actual force sensitive child, is right there. (though, he absolutely should be taught by ezra bc shatterpoint lineage rights).

and if filoni tries pulling some bullshit about how sabine was force sensitive the entire time, that's an insult to sabine's character, and it's a HUGE insult to kanan, who absolutely would have noticed that she was force sensitive.

it just feels like a back-handed way to say that sabine being just a mandalorian isn't good enough (and god forbid we have more than one major mandalorian character in the star wars franchise who isn't din djarin), and that kanan and ezra aren't good enough, it has to be ahsoka that teaches sabine. i already don't have faith that sabine's mandalorian family will get mentioned a whole lot, if at all. and now with her training to be a jedi, it just feels like they're trying to abandon her entire culture. not everyone needs to be a jedi, and not everyone needs to be force sensitive, and not everything needs to be about ahsoka.

and again, i absolutely have nothing against ahsoka as a character. (i don't like rosario's portrayal of her, and don't even like rosario.)

but dave filoni is starting to beat the dead horse by constantly having ahsoka in new star wars media (probably unpopular opinion, but i think ahsoka should've died on malachor like she was supposed to and should never have been brought back by ezra in the WBW. but that's a separate essay).

so now, in what should have been an (animated) rebels sequel, ahsoka is the star. and the rebels characters are going to get the short end of the stick, as usual.

[ariainstars]

Grogu's Choice

This is a scene that many fans of The Mandalorian, in particular the ones that follow the show mostly for the bond between the protagonist and Grogu, the child, dislike utterly: in The Book of Boba Fett (episode VI), Luke puts Grogu before a choice. He can stay with him and learn how to be a Jedi - which is symbolized by Yoda’s light saber - or he can go back to Mando, to whom, Luke has understood, Grogu feels very attached - symbolized by the mesh shirt Mando brought him as a gift.

Many fans argue that Luke did not have to make Grogu choose, that the child could very well become a Jedi and yet have attachments. But this is obviously not the route Luke takes.

The scene is so powerful and important because it sets up one narrative circle and finishes another. It emphasizes that Luke has decided to become a Jedi in the classic way, foregoing attachments, and that he will discourage his pupils, too, from having any. On the other hand, it puts a definitive stop to the question as to if and why Mando and Grogu are meant to be together.

Although a child, Grogu has already seen much and understands more than he lets on. But until now he didn’t have a choice; we know that the Jedi brought Force-sensitive children to their Temple before they could think for themselves. Grogu somehow survived when the Order fell and ever since was at the mercy of one shady figure or other, passed on merely for the sake of his mysterious powers.

When Din Djarin rescues and takes him away in Chapter 3 of Season 1, he makes a conscious choice: he does not want the child to remain in the hands of people who obviously do not have his well-being in mind and only want to exploit him.

Grogu, for the rest of the season and for all of Season 2, does not make a choice. He obviously trusts Mando and wants to stay with him, but even if he didn’t want that: he wouldn’t have a choice because he has nowhere to go. What Luke actually does is, for the first time, to make him choose what he actually wants to do with his life. Luke is powerful enough to keep Grogu safe; he is kind; he is a Force-user, too, so he can teach him. Grogu would have a good life with him. And yet Grogu chooses the mesh shirt, the bond with his adopted father, and a way of life that does not exclude attachments. This choice solidifies the father-son-relationship between the two for good.

Though a good teacher, Luke is not fatherly with Grogu; he does not let him be a child the way Mando does. This is emphasized by the final scene of Episode VII, where we see the two of them in Mando’s new ship, with Grogu wanting to fly faster. Grogu made a choice for himself, and also for Mando, knowing well that the latter is notoriously often in trouble and might need his help in case some wild beast or other might want to eat him. 😊

The non-attachment rule of the Jedi, knowing the prequels, was one of the reasons why their Order fell. Why Luke failed, as we see in the sequels, is something we were not partial yet and can only conjecture.

But now, since Luke and Grogu part and we already know how Luke’s temple will end, this probably foreshadows that Grogu’s life work will, by contrast be a success, and, most importantly, why: because Grogu has a powerful father figure by his side who teaches him the things he needs to know but that a non-attached Jedi can’t teach.

Luke’s eternal Achille’s heel is the fact that he doesn’t have and never had a father figure (Owen did not understand his nature, and Obi-Wan died after a short acquaintance), and, most importantly, that he always longed for one. This will, in the end, turn out to be not only a personal loss to him but the cause of the last Jedi’s ultimate downfall.

That Grogu actually has a father figure and chose the attachment with him might, though, mean that Force users will start anew and better through him.

[notallthosewho-wanderarelost]

Ahsoka 1x01 1x02 Thoughts/Questions

Spoilers for Ahsoka of course, and spoilers for Star Wars Rebels.

WHAT IS SABINE’S CAT’S NAME???? This is unironically my number one question. What if she named it Ezra.

Where is Jacen? My broccoli boy 💚

Wtf is up with Morgan Elsbeth being a nightsister? She’s very clearly human and not the same species as Talzin, Ventress, and Merrin, etc. Is Dave bringing back the concept of a group of human Nightsisters from the EU? (In which case, I’d like to see Teneniel Djo please.) Morgan says she’s a “descendant of the witches of Dathomir,” does that mean she could be part Nightsister but mostly human? Worth noting she is clearly able to do at least a bit of Nightsister magick in the scene with the map- she summons green smoke while opening it. Why the inconsistency in species? It seems silly to suddenly have a human Nightsister character when it’s needlessly confusing.

Also, the instant she said she was a Nightsister and a survivor I was like “who does she think she is ripping off Merrin like this?!” I will not tolerate this dollar store knockoff wannabe.

Update: checked the wiki and apparently there were a few small human Nightsister clans (the Singing Mountain clan is apparently still canon!), but mostly it was the big Dathomirian Nightsister clan led by Mother Talzin. Morgan could be from one of the smaller human clans. I think she just feels annoying to me because it’s like someone saw how cool Merrin is, thought she’d be a good villain for this, and then took the character concept wholesale for a piece of Star Wars media that’s more mainstream, but didn’t put in the work so it falls flat. And then her being human just makes it weirder. I wonder who made the decision to use the Nightsisters for this storyline, because doesn’t… fit. Even Morgan’s name is odd. Just feels like no effort was put into the character.

How did Ahsoka find Huyang? I’m so curious when and how this happened. I’m really happy to see him in this though, I loved him in Clone Wars.

Ahsoka can do psychometry now! Can we please get some canon Ahsoka and Cal Kestis interactions? Rebellion era would probably be best but I’m not picky. Obviously Cal’s abilities in that area are a lot stronger, but it’s nice he’s not alone and it’d be great to see them interact. They’re almost the same age, but just far enough apart that their experiences since Order 66 have been radically different.

Mando/Din spending seasons raising a Jedi foundling and Ahsoka taking on a non-Force-sensitive Mandalorian as a padawan is so funny to me. The irony of the inverse.

It’s also the perfect continuation of the disaster lineage attitude imo. Obi-Wan “I’ll train the kid you all say is too old to train” Kenobi, then Anakin and Ahsoka’s… you know, Anakin and Ahsoka-ing, and now Ahsoka’s like “I’ll take a regular non-Force-Sensitive person as a padawan.”

Merrin and Sabine would get along, I think.

Sabine being like 30 and still acting exactly like a rebellious teenager feels like a cry for help to me. :( I’m glad Hera seems to have her back, and it’s good that she has a cat, but I’m worried about her. It makes sense, but gosh poor Sabine. I’m sensing depression. She’s had such a tough life and a tough time with the concept of family, it feels like losing Ezra was the last straw for her emotionally.

Actually, where is Sabine’s biological family? Are Ursa, Tristan, and Alrich okay? Or did they not survive the Mandalorian Purge? (God no I WILL cry. Also @ Dave where is Korkie, why is Bo-Katan calling herself the last Kryze.)

So wait, the rest of the crew has spent 15 years thinking Ezra’s dead?? He said to come find him! I always felt like he was pretty clear he wasn’t dying when he pulled his purrgil stunt. Did they all just turn pessimistic and lose hope? That’s so sad.

I actually really love Sabine kind of being the Republic’s version of Thrawn as an expert art analyst. Continues the Sabine/Thrawn contrast Rebels started where Thrawn analyzes art in a more academic fashion and treats the culture it came from as a curiosity- he’s very into cultural appropriation!!- while Sabine makes her own art and is more capable of stepping into other people’s shoes to appreciate their art.

Ahsoka refusing to train Sabine because she’s too busy being sad and lonely, and Sabine refusing to talk to Ahsoka or train (or give speeches) because she’s too busy being sad and lonely. This is so sad and I want to hug them both.

It works because we have a new actress playing Ahsoka, but I’m so curious what this would have been like animated. Ahsoka feels similar enough to herself but very different, because she’s in such a different place emotionally, and I’m curious how this would’ve felt in animation with Ashley doing the voice.

There were a few scenes where I felt like I was watching a live action Rebels episode and it was the best! The entire sequence with Sabine on the hover bike getting away from her own New Republic squad lol, Hera in the Phantom with Chopper chasing after the ship and planting the tracker. Chopper not being able to find the tracker until Hera told him where it was felt SPOT ON.

The T-6 actually looks pretty roomy and comfortable so far. Like, not the best living situation, but it looks way bigger than the Falcon! Heck, it looks bigger than Ezra’s tower that Sabine’s living in.

That said, Ahsoka having not had a real home since leaving the Jedi Temple is killing me. She really has some abandonment/attachment/commitment issues she needs to work on. Extremely understandable issues given what happened, but it’s like after the end of Rebels she just… quit. Maybe finding out Kanan was gone and then coming back to find Ezra gone was the last straw for her.

I also feel like her giving up on Sabine’s training was because of how her own training ended and Anakin’s fall shortly after. She doesn’t feel capable of dealing with the feelings stirred up by having a student. So she just doesn’t.

Sabine’s collecting little brothers. :) Tristan, Ezra, and Jacen.

I yelled at Senator Jai Kell!!! Good for him!!!

Had a watch party with my friends for this and we all screamed the instant Chopper showed up!! And here I was thinking maybe he was off babysitting Jacen.

What in the world is with the map showing another galaxy?? Yuuzhan Vong vibes. (The way they were almost canon because we were supposed to get a Clone Wars episode with them… :’( )

Why DO the Nightsisters have a map to another galaxy? Didn’t they mostly stay on Dathomir? I can buy them having outposts like the ruins where Ahsoka found the map in an era when they left the planet more, but a map to whole other galaxy seems a bit off. Space exploration on that scale doesn’t seem like something they would do. I wonder if maybe the map is a relic from someone else that they picked up. I like the Rakata theory I saw floated by someone. I could see the Nightsisters picking up a Rakatan map. Those guys left random stuff everywhere iirc.

Does the Eye of Sion have anything to do with Darth Sion? (Of KOTOR 2 fame)

WHERE IS MORAI??? This is a really big question for me!!

Also wondering where Ahsoka’s Gandalf the White outfit is? Guessing she won’t get it until the end of the show. She has to go through her journey first. I wonder if the if it’ll mirror the Topps cards Filoni did after Twilight of the Apprentice at all.

It’s really sad to me that this show is coming out during the strike, because I really need Filoni commentary on things. Actor commentary would be great as well. This is ridiculous, the studios need to pay the people who make things a fair wage.

Shoutout to Natasha Liu Bordizzo’s portrayal of Sabine so far. She feels JUST like Sabine and it’s great. We haven’t really seen enough of Hera yet for me to comment on Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s acting. (It was so weird seeing Hera be taller than Ahsoka though lol.) And Sabine had much more of an arc in these two episodes than Ahsoka did so I can’t really comment on Rosario’s Ahsoka either. Will say she’s been excellent so far, especially in her first appearance in the Mandalorian episode. Looking forward to seeing more!

[dinluke-ao3feed]

Read it on https://archiveofourown.org/works/52756993 by apricusapollo "Are we in the clear yet?" He vividly remembers that at one point, Anakin even told him that because of his past, Han would never get Anakin's blessing till the day he dies and Han still doesn't exactly know what to do with that information. What he does know, though, is that he's going to continue trying to convince Anakin that he's worthy of his daughter until Anakin eventually gives him his blessing. After all, how long can it possibly take till Anakin Skywalker, the great General, a Jedi Master and one of the strongest Force-users, breaks, puts Han Solo out of his misery and also makes him the happiest man in the galaxy by allowing him to spend the rest of his life with the most wonderful woman that is Leia Skywalker? (or, in another words, 5 times when Anakin thought that Han wasn't worthy of Leia and 1 time he thought that he was.) Words: 8810, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Multi Characters: Han Solo, Leia Organa, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Shmi Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Family Shenanigans, POV Han Solo, Han Solo Being an Idiot, Han Solo Loves Leia Organa, Leia Organa/Han Solo Fluff, Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker Raise Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker, Good Parent Anakin Skywalker, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Din Djarin Is Anakin Skywalker's Favorite Son-In-Law, but bro isn't even letting han become his son-in-law in the first place pls, han is struggling someone save him, Shmi Skywalker Lives, and anakin is the biggest mama's boy ever, Force-Sensitive Han Solo, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), but we're rolling with it because it's what the plot needs!!!, rude by MAGIC! but if it was a fanfic instead of a song, din and han are being such little shits to each other i love them so much

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 4}

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

Summary: The Mandalorian succumbs to more than one of his instincts regarding recent quarries, a fight to maintain that which he deems worthy of saving ensues.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideation, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, guns, gun violence, shooting, injuries, blood

A/N: please excuse any mistakes with the mando'a, i've been using a combination of a translation code and star wars lore to piece together the language. this chapter was a little hard for me to write, it was a heavy one and my weeks have not been great lately. but it's here, i worked through it and i will be out of town for a few days to get some much needed mental space before the semester starts.

thank you so much to everyone for the love and support, and hello to the 70(!!) new followers i've gained recently ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

Watching him leave the space of the Crest and down through the entrance of the city had a foreign feeling settling in your chest. There was a weight to it, something that you hadn’t experienced before. It was akin to panic, your palms sweating and your heartbeat tittering. Your brow was smooth, though you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, some kind of anxiety taking over all of a sudden.

The shine of his newly minted armor in the blue light of dusk was a beautiful sight to behold. The strong form of the Mandalorian backtracking to right a wrong he didn’t have the resolve to stick by, despite everything he had done and every action he had taken up until this point to ensure the completion of his job. His steps were sure, his hands still at his sides, his helmet facing forward. The cape he had allowed you to use as a resting pad billowed with his steps, moving behind him in a mesmerizing show, the rifle strapped down his back holding most of it still, save for the end of it.

Eyes tracked him almost greedily until he was lost in the maze of the buildings that lined the streets. You were usure of how much time had passed since he had disappeared, though the sun had begun to descend toward the horizon.

A beeping started down in the hold, causing you to startle a little. You wracked your brain to figure out what it was without moving to inspect it. It wasn’t your ship after all, you didn’t want to go snooping around and find something you weren’t supposed to. Or, with your luck, end of messing with whatever was making the noise and get injured or blindsided by a trap. Then it clicked. It was the tracking fob he had carried around on Arvala-7.

Climbing down into the hold space despite how sore your body was, you found it atop the bed that was in his small personal quarters. The door had been left open in his haste to get back into the city. It was flashing a red light, the beeping continuing at a steady pace. Your nerves tingled as you realized what it meant. The job was back on for the entirety of the Guild. It would be a free for all, the hunt for the Child back on. You took it with you back up to the cockpit, watching as the sun began to disappear on the horizon, the fob tight in your hand.

You had managed to silence it, but the light still glowed red on the face of it.

You were still in the cockpit, taking in the surroundings of the ship when you noticed the way the same busy streets you had been watching all day seemed to clear, nearly desolate in the waning day. They had cleared as twilight had delved into early evening; the sun having dipped completely below the horizon now. A lot of the main throughways had emptied at the same time. The panicked feeling grew stronger in your chest.

It was something that made your instincts itch to run, to warn the Mandalorian. But you had no way to, the integrity of his armor had been damaged and then replaced with a completely new set. You doubted the outdated communications cuff you had in the bottom of your old bag would even connect to his, if you even had his chain code or communications number. You had no idea if you could maybe contact somehow with the controls on the ship, there was no time for you to figure it out.

Mechanics weren’t your strong suit. You could fly should the need arise, but you didn’t know enough to comfortably mess around with the older model of this ship without risking messing something up or throwing something out of sync in the settings. Silently cursing this ugly planet and dangerous city, you took off into the streets you had been monitoring.

You wandered a few streets into the city before actually beginning to search for what you wanted.

Making sure you hadn’t gained the attention of anyone or were being followed. Cautious as always. It was an odd feeling being down in the winding streets, it had been so long since you had been anywhere of your own volition. It was not lost on you that you were out on your own for the first time in who knows how long, to be seeking out help for someone else in your first moments of pseudo freedom. You had no motivation to seek out a ship of your own, to hide, to run. You had a mission, one that you felt deeply enough about to put your own true freedom to the side for the moment. The Mandalorian had somehow etched himself into your mind and you wanted him to succeed in this endeavor. In this rescue.

Not just for the sake of the Child. It was also for the man who had obviously connected with him, sensed something in him enough to regret turning him over as agreed when he took on the job.

It made you wish that someone had felt strongly enough about you to free your own fate. Or at least to aid you in achieving it yourself. You had been honest and ready to face the ramifications of your request upon the Mandalorian’s arrival at that compound. Asking him to kill you, to take the one thing you held close throughout your entire life, you had been ready. Ready to be free of the cycle that played out time and time again. You were tired of the running, the hiding, the scheming. Of watching over your shoulder every time you dared to leave a safe haven, a hiding place, the comfort of being alone for the sake of absolute safety. You didn’t see anything other than this being your life, until the end of your life.

You would agree with anyone that called you a coward, too afraid to take your own life but willing to ask for it. You would agree with them in absolution, it felt like a betrayal to those who had seen potential in you. To those that had taken you into their temple, taught you everything you knew, had seen the gift that they claimed you held. It would feel too much like disrespect, a slight to them in their deceased states after fighting so hard to protect what they believed in, who they believed in only to fall themselves. It would be a smear on your entire existence, to take your own life after they had laid down their own in protection. Despite the very fact that the gift they had seen in you, had set you on this very path.

The Mandalorian hadn’t mentioned anything other than this being a hub for the Guild in passing, where he would retrieve pucks and return captures. But there was something else about the city that had to mean something to him, to keep him returning and adamant about it as you had looked over his travel logs stored in the control system. He seemed to return here, to this outer rim location more than any other, sometimes stopping between every other planet. It had to be other Mandalorians.

Jobs, you were mostly sure of getting his payment and to obtain more, but he couldn’t possibly be coming back just for employment. You spied a large figure lingering in a doorway down the same street you were on. The streetlight glinting off of his helmet for the barest of seconds, but it was enough for you to see a similar looking visor. You knew it wasn’t him, it didn’t feel like him, but the figure still brought a sense of comfort low in your nerves. You had been correct in your hunch, it was other Mandalorian’s bringing your captor back to this planet time and time again. As if it were a base of operations for him.

You watched as the large figure moved about the streets, his armor glinting blue in the pale light of the moon beginning to show her face as night blanketed the planet. Unlike the Mandalorian you were currently captive to, this one had what appeared to be a jet pack fastened to his broad back. Large machinery was attached to him as well, but you couldn’t make out if it was a blaster or some other kind of weapon from your distance.

The figure deemed the street safe enough to briskly make their way down the length of it and around the corner of a building. A gloved hand came up to the side of the helmet and pressed something, as if they had activated something in the visor or mechanics of the helmet. They continued on, dipping silently down a flight of stairs that led into a lower-level alley. They paused in front of a nondescript door, the wood barely kept together with how warped it was, but as he reached for the handle you closed the distance with a deliberate scuff of your foot and spoke softly to them.

“Jatne vod, gar vod cuyir o'r burun.”

Sir, your brother is in danger.

The armored man swung around quickly, his hands going to the handle of the rather large machinery tethered to his form. Gun, it was a gun of some sort. Perhaps a modified blaster? His visor aimed down at you and tried your best to keep calm. Instincts not liking the focused attention. You didn’t know this man, but you knew of his Creed. He would cause you no harm unless threatened. While fighting and weaponry of a part of their culture, so was respect and the willingness to aid those in need.

“Pehea vaabir gar kar'taylir mando'a? bic cuyir a ranov'la joha par ner adate.  Ner adate shi.”

 How do you know Mando’?. It’s a language for my people. My people only.

“Gedet'ye, Jatne vod.  Ni cuy' ti solus be gar vod.  Kaysh cuyir o'r burun.  Te beroya.  Gaa'tayl, kaysh's at cuyir ru'ram'or jaon ad'ika.”

Sir, I am with one of your brothers. The bounty hunter. He is to be attacked over a foundling.

You knew of the Mandalorian culture putting great worth on foundlings, on those in need of guidance in the face of whatever circumstances that left them alone and needing for it. You hoped that the mention of one would help to convince the man in front of you to give aid to your captor. The Child deserved to be protected, to have someone looking out for him. And if that person needed help in the beginning of their journey, then you were going to kriffing make sure that he had it. You were worried about them both, wanting for this to story to have a good ending even if you weren’t going to be so lucky.

No one was ever going to be in your corner half as much as you had witnessed with the Mandalorian and the Child.

“Te beroya cuyir kovid.  Kaysh liser akaanir.”

The bounty hunter is strong. He can fight.

“Jatne vod, anade.  Val cuyir at jehavey'ir.”

Sir, everyone. They are to ambush him.

You shook your head at his words, not wanting to argue with him. He needed to understand that you weren’t diminishing their strength, either as a whole or individually in the case of the Mandalorian you were trying to save. If the entire Guild and the remnants of the Empire here on this planet were to mark him as a target, there was no way he would leave the confrontation alive. He was capable, but not when up against impossible odds. You had faith in him and his abilities, his title, the way he lived his life. But this….this was going to be a carefully executed slaughter. Your captor would need someone watching over his back. He would need help of his own.

“Pehea vaabir ni kar'taylir ibic cuyir nayc gaanaylir par mhi an?”

How do I know it’s not a trap for us all?

The armored man so similar to the Mandalorian you knew, gruff nature. Hesitant to take words as they were presented, seeing the threat in them even if it was false and only a misconception of one. It was what kept them alive in the face of attempted extermination, you would know. The Jedi and Mandalorians shared a similar history, though you knew they were once fierce enemies. If the tables were turned, you would have already walked away from him. You would have seen it as a ploy to get you out into the open as well, to be attacked yourself and to be captured.

“Ni ru'kel vaabir nayc such kebi.” You stood your ground, despite having to look up at the visor of the taller figure now staring you down. His gloved hands were at the ready atop his control cuff. Prepared to either take you out or to jet off with his pack as far away from you as possible. You closed your eyes in a long blink, gathering the courage to admit something aloud. Something that had become rather apparent even back on Arvala-7, even despite the circumstances that you came to know the Mandalorian in the first place. “Ni ganar baatir par val oyay.”

I would do no such thing. I care about his life.

The man must have felt the truth of your words. For his next move was to lower his hands from his weapons and face you in a completely open manner. He looked you up and down, the helmet moving with the scape of him taking in the way you were standing tall, trying to hold firm to your decision to seek him out. He noticed the fading bruises around your neck, the collar of the borrowed Mandalorian’s shirt wide on your shoulders. The bags underneath your eyes were still visible, but you were aware of how you must’ve looked. Like a spooked thing recovering from something awful, hiding in the shadows of the dirty buildings in this seedy settlement. All to seek out help for someone you barely knew anything about.

You could feel his gaze burning over you, dissecting you for everything you both willingly and unwillingly put on display.

With a nod, he said he would take your words seriously in Basic, and he disappeared down the street.

You took your time getting back to the ship, making sure no one had been witness to the exchange that had just taken place. If you were to be recognized or targeted, at least your last moments had been used to ensure the safety and protection of the Child, of a foundling in need of family and support. You kept your head on a swivel, not wanting to be taken off guard or to run into anyone who might have connections with the fallen Empire that was very much still alive on this outer rim planet.

As you turned down one of the more narrow streets, there was a figure slumped down on the ground, upper half leaned up against the side of a building. They were completely still, you weren’t sure if they were passed out as a result of too much spice or drink or dead. You cautiously swiped the bag of credits that had been on display, dangling from the man’s belt. You pocketed it, the borrowed pants the Mandalorian had loaned heavy as you made your way back to the ship.

After swiping the credits, you felt distant eyes watching over you. There was no hint to where or who they were, but you had a feeling it had to do with the Mandalorian you had sought out. Maybe he was keeping tabs on you to ensure the truth of your words, or had appointed someone else to do so.

As you began to ascend the ramp of the Crest, you turned to look over your shoulder one last time. You had hope that whoever it was that was tailing you hadn’t been brave or foolish enough to follow you aboard the ship. It wasn’t yours, but as you hit the button to close the ramp, a figure stepped out of the shadows and turned down the main street. It was a Mandalorian in yellow and orange armor. They had a hand held up close to the bottom of their helmet, no doubt reporting what ship you had just boarded via commlink.

The sight of Mandalorian at the head of the main street, having come out of an alley had you standing from where you were daringly seated in the pilot seat. That same, nearly panicked feeling, from earlier sparking in your chest when his beskar armor reflected the moonlight that shown down. The wrapped bundle in the crook of his arm was still, but you knew he had been successful in his rescue.

As he had turned onto the main street, bounty hunters appeared all around him. From the entrance of alleyways, down the main thoroughfare of the street, from parked speed bikes and smaller inner-city transport ships. The man you recognized as Greef Karga, from the transmission the Mandalorian had watched with you in the cockpit, stood near the entrance archway. His back to the shipyard and to you. He had people flanking him, seeming to be the one in charge as the head of the Guild. You couldn’t make out what was going on from so far away and within the relative safety of the ship, but you could tell words were being traded.

The Mandalorian didn’t have any weapons at the ready, his focus had been on the bundle in his arms. He snaked his right hand down to hover over the blaster in the holster at his hip. He had blasters of all shapes and sizes aimed at him, though you weren’t sure what the specifics of his new armor was but it had to be enough for him to still hold the confident air you could see on him from here. He stood his ground, not making moves to take in his surroundings. He had to have known that he was utterly surrounded, even from above where you could spy sharpshooters stationed on rooftops.

Some sort of agreement seemed to be achieved, as the Mandalorian began to take slow steps toward a wide, open speeder. Every pair of eyes and blaster barrel followed the armored man’s movements. He came to a halt right in front of the speeder, helmet aimed down at it as he thought something over. He notched his head to look at the bundle in his arms, still as a statue.

In an explosion of movement, he jerked his hand down and wielded his blaster and was firing shots in seconds. He continued to shoot as he jumped up and spun to land lengthwise within the interior of the open speeder. The lip of it and the cargo it contained helping to shield him momentarily from the barrage of shots that rained all around the street. Lights of blaster bolts bright in the early night.

The speeder began to move forward, and as it did so the helmet of the Mandalorian popped up over the top of some strapped down cargo. He had just enough vision to shoot a few bolts, the hits landing and taking out some of the opposing figures. The speeder only got about halfway down the street before someone had the thought to take out the droid that had been operating it. It came to a crashing halt, the hover optics were no longer working and it slammed hard into the ground.

Everything stilled, bounty hunters slowly approaching the downed speeder. But the Mandalorian’s rifle made a slow, steady movement and a shooter up above was taken out. Their body disappearing in a burst of ash and the bits of fabric from their clothing that didn’t burn up flitted down to settle on the street below. Other people began to disintegrate as the Mandalorian took aim again and again. Some took cover, some took off completely. But it was still far too many for him to take on alone and make it out unharmed, let alone alive. You worried for the Child, who was surely not enjoying being caught in the middle of the chaos lest he have awoken during your separation.

Dust flew up, making it hard to decipher anything else below. Flames erupted from where you knew the Mandalorian was still hunkered down in the speeder. It was a chaotic scene of blaster bolts lighting up all around. Suddenly, figures in familiar armor and helmets descended down into the street. Jet packs aiding them in quickly gaining the upper hand. You heard the ramp of the ship open, but you hadn’t been the one to initiate it. The battle raged on for a good while, until you finally saw the form of the Mandalorian cross the threshold of the archway that let into the city. His silhouette having formed before he appeared through the smoke and dust of the fighting.

He was walking briskly to the ship, the Child safely in his arms.

You rushed out of the pilot seat and began to make your way through the upper space of the cockpit. A foot settled on the first rung of the ladder when a voice you didn’t know sounded through the space from behind the Mandalorian. He turned to face the man standing at the top of the lowered ramp, beside the carbon freezing chamber. You rushed down, coming to stand just behind your armored captor.

“Hold it, Mando.” You watched from behind the broad wall the Mandalorian made, fighting down the urge to gently reach around him for the Child and bring him into your own arms. You saw the way that the Mandalorian’s arms tightened the hold he had on the bundled up form in his protection. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.”

The helmet moved to the left, seeing that he was positioned just beside the freezing chamber. He discreetly pressed a button on his cuff, a metal cord shot out and activated something in the chamber.

Just as a thick steam began to fill the space of the hold, the shine of a blaster being pulled from a hidden holster flashed in the lights of the ship from the opposing man. The determined man aimed them both at toward the interior of the ship. A barrage of shots rang out, fuzzy lights filling the space between you all.

One of them pinged off of the newly fashioned cuirass protecting the Mandalorian, another settled itself in your ribcage. Others rained around you, pinging off of crates and the floor. It hadn’t been a blaster that had hit you, it had been some sort of gun with actual bullets. You tried to muffle your shout, not wanting to disrupt his concentration should he need to continue the standoff. But both men were good shots, the Mandalorian’s had landed directly over the opposing man’s chest. His one to the other man’s many.

You carefully lowered yourself to the ground as something buried in your skin protested, the warm feeling of sticky blood soaking the fabric of your borrowed shirt was paired with a sharp pain that made it hard to take in a full breath. You realized that the wheezing sound was you, Greef Karga was unconscious at the end of the boarding ramp that had begun to close. Your eyes caught his form still on the ground as your own began to convulse. Your wheezing turned into a wet cough, followed by another and another.

Hands were on you, searching your back for the injury that was causing the concerning sounds to fill the enclosed hold space, the steam clearing. You were trying to hold yourself up on your knees and your left arm, your right held to your mouth as you continued to wheeze and cough intermittently. You tried to shake the concern off, he needed to get the ship up in the air. He needed to get away from the people that would surely follow up into the air and space given the chance.

“The ship!” You ground out, bringing your hand away from your mouth, eyes widening at the alarming amount of blood that was puddled in your palm, dripping thickly to the durasteel flooring of the ship. A groan sounded from you unbidden as you felt yourself be turned over onto your back, the dark fabric of the Mandalorian’s shirt shiny with your blood. Your eyes were getting heavy, you closed them, lips parting to try and bring air into your stinging lungs.

“You’ve got to get us into hyperspace. They’ll kill you for the Child.”

“This isn’t a blaster shot.” His large hands had lifted the fabric up enough to see the entrance wound, gunpowder marring the skin around it and mixing with the steady flow of blood that was seeping from it.

“The ship, jatne vod.” You wheezed out, grabbing his hand and removing it. You pushed at him weakly, hands on his cuirass. He didn’t so much as budge, his helmet was aimed down at you, the dark visor bleeding into dark streaks across your vision. When he stood, it was then that you realized in the back of your mind that he had been holding you up off the floor with one arm and checking your wound with the other. Your body moved easily as he held you behind your back and underneath your knees.

“They’ll kill you and take us both, please.”

You found some strength as panic seared in your very psyche. Your hands gripped the cowl underneath his helmet and you brought it down closer to you. You pressed your forehead against the metal of the helmet over the visor, eyes straining to focus on something, anything beneath the dark of it. For him to understand that you didn’t want that, you didn’t want him killed and you didn’t want to become someone else’s captive alongside the Child. The arms around you tightened.

“D-don’t let them take me.” A sob wracked your injured body, suddenly overcome with everything that had happened the past week. Overcome with the thought that you had risked everything to save the Child, to save the Mandalorian. To give them the chance you so desperately wanted for yourself. Your head fell back from where it touched his armor, eyes clenched shut, his arms curled around you more securely. He didn’t say anything, the sounds of people shouting and approaching the ship ushering him into motion.

Blaster fire pinged off the exterior of the ship, prompting the Mandalorian to walk a little faster further into the ship.

“What were you thinking.” It wasn’t a question, not really, not with the way the words were growled at you through the modulator, static seething into them. His hands were light on you as he settled you into the chair to the left of the main one in the cockpit. He pushed your own hands down on the wrap he had put around your middle, urging you silently to keep them there. “I have to get us up and out, stay put for two fucking seconds.”

He kept glancing back at you as he got the ship up into the air and prepared to jump. The weapon you had been shot with had been modified. You couldn’t keep yourself upright, legs shaking and arms holding your middle. You slowly moved yourself to the floor, not wanting to chance falling over and tearing open the wound anymore. Of twisting the piece of metal that was imbedded deep in your ribcage. Time passed, you don’t know how long, vision and awareness fading. You didn’t see the Mandalorian salute another as they came up into the airspace around the Crest and bid him an all-clear sign.

You were brought back to the present by the feeling of soft leather and something cold and sharp digging into your skin. The ship had jumped, you were sure of it, the mesmerizing colors of hyperspace cascading into the cockpit. Your eyes could barely make out anything other than the washes of celestial light panning over the beautiful armor of the Mandalorian, his focus on your injury as he used a metal tool to retrieve the bits of the bullet that was making it hard to breath. You were whimpering at every small movement of the tool inside your skin, pieces of the offending thing pinged along the durasteel floor of the ship the second they were wretched from your skin. Bloody and smearing the clean cabin as the ship continued to travel on.

You cried out, lungs punching air out of your entire body in a painful surge as the last and largest piece was pulled from you and thrown to the floor with the tool he had been using to retrieve them. You felt fresh, warm blood trickle down the side of your mouth. It coated your lips, you could feel it between your teeth and the taste of it was dizzying. Your head spun, your body hurt, your lungs burned, and your vision began to gray. His voice was sounding but you couldn’t make out any words. Suddenly the visor of his helmet was the only thing you could see through hazy eyes, the darkness of it beckoning you and you were ready to follow.

A sharp, hot feeling washed over you as the sound of another tool buried itself into your head and made you nauseas. You could feel your body jerk but could do nothing to stop it, a pressure was on your chest, over your heart that was holding you still. The quick, disjointed beating of it surely could be felt through your skin. The Mandalorian was working to close the wound with that same cauterizing tool he had used back on Arvala-7. Your mind going fuzzy and all sense of being zapped away as he tried to close the bleeding wound.

“Where would you want to go, if given the chance?” The question bubbled up from his chest before he could stop it. The color draining from your face and the blood soaking the worn leather of his gloves pulled it from within him. He wanted to know something personal about you, he realized. He wanted a small piece of you should this be one of your last moments. He wanted someone somewhere to know something real about you, not only what you were capable of and wanted for. He wanted to be that someone. It was against his creed to ask such questions of someone if your intention wasn’t courting, the notion lost on him in his anxiety.

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to train your eyes on the black of his visor. To not be swallowed by the darkness in them. Your eyes were so dull, a heavy feeling settled in his stomach as he realized he was losing you. The cauterizing tool fell from one hand to clatter soundlessly on the floor. His ears were strained, watching your lips move as you tried to get words out.

“I’ve never been asked that.” You sobbed as you felt him remove his hands from you, leaving you alone and untethered on the floor of his ship. Tears raced down your cheeks, warm and salty when they cascaded over your nose and down to your lips. It was just for a moment, his hands were pressing a bacta patch to your middle, light pressure to make sure the adhesive stuck to your skin. His eyes moved to watch the white rag soak up your blood as he wiped it across your skin, not able to take the sight of your face going slack. You murmured one last thing before your body gave out on you. “I’ve always loved the forest.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

[burnwater13]

Grogu goes to Coruscant

Grogu had never thought that he would return to Coruscant. It had been so long since he’d left the Jedi Temple and then left the planet that was more mech than living thing. But here he was. Walking along the streets with his found family. His mom had taken the twins to meet with the other members of the Brethren who were working on rehabilitating the strange world, but his dad, Din Djarin, and his friend, Ben Solo, were with him. 

The place looked both familiar and foreign. Like a dream that changes into a nightmare. Shadows lengthen and the skies get darker, and the sounds are no long innocent, but ominous. Yet, his mom had been there many times and his dad had been there as well, since the Empire had fallen. 

This was Ben’s first time visiting what had been the primary home of the Jedi order for so many years. His grandfather Anakin had lived and trained here, along side the other Jedi Masters, now long gone. Master Obi-Wan, Master Windu, Master Drallig, Master Yaddle, and of course Grand Master Yoda.

Grogu worried about bringing Ben here. His grandfather had been one of the people who had created so much loss and pain on this world and for the people that the Empire spawned here had suppressed, tormented, and destroyed. Ben was very sensitive to the Force, very open to it. Grogu could feel the residual affects of the Sith everywhere, even after this much time had passed. How would Ben handle it?

“Ben, feeling okay?” Grogu asked his tall friend as they approached what had been the main entry to the old temple.

“I am doing fine, Big Bro. I understand. It’s weird. I can feel so many things, but I know I didn’t cause this. I know you didn’t either. We’re good. If that changes I’ll let you know. I understand why T didn’t come with us, though. She knew many of these people. I can feel that.” Ben replied to Grogu. 

“Yes, Ta’lan said she came here more than once as Mira. But the Brethren deal with these challenges differently from the Jedi. Luke needed Grogu’s assistance in dealing with something here and Ta’lan said she could not help with it.”

Din explained. Grogu knew that Ta’lan and his dad had reconciled during a mission to Coruscant to save Luke from some problem. She hadn’t told him about other missions there, but then Mira was a spy and she couldn’t blab about it. 

“Seb could have helped.” Ben commented. 

“Busy. Still Mand’alor.” Grogu laughed. “Mandos need him more.”

He really meant that. Seb was a good Mand’alor. The planet was being repaired and the clans were working together to accomplish that. All Mandalorians were being treated as equals. There were no duchesses or counts, or anything like that. The warrior class was in charge, although warriors still existed. But they helped with logistics and aid because they were well trained for that work.

“True. What did Luke say he needed? My dad didn’t say anything to me before I set off to meet you here.” Ben asked.

“Luke fix Life Tree.” Grogu reported to his companions. He’d wondered why his Mom didn’t want to help them with this project, but he knew that she had her reasons. 

“Really? And T passed that up? That doesn’t sound like her.” Ben commented. 

“She must have thought that between the three of you, the Tree would in good hands. Plus, one of the last times we were here, she stabbed the tree to excise a Sith entity from it and rescue Luke. The tree might not appreciate her touch at this point.” Din replied to the two younger men. 

Grogu grumbled at his dad’s comment. His parents had never fully explained what happened during that visit and neither did Luke. Grogu had always suspected that it was a bit more involved than traveling into a hidden chamber within the roots of the tree and extracting Luke. But his mother and father said knowing more wouldn’t help anyone understand it better. He knew that was code for it was personal. 

“Mom trusts us.” Grogu stated with certainty. His mom did trust them. Plus, he knew her well enough to know that if she thought he or any of them was going to get into trouble they couldn’t handle she would be there rescuing them no matter what. T’ad and Solus wouldn’t keep her from doing that.

They were at the main entry hall and Grogu had to admit that they must cut an interesting figure. A Mandalorian in full armor, a tallish human wearing robes that were very Jedi like, but all in forest green, and himself, in his robes of deep purple, lined in beskar fabric, his lightsaber at his hip. 

He’d had a growth spurt the prior year, but he was still barely past Din’s knee in height. Ben was already as tall as Din and hadn’t stopped growing yet. Grogu kind of envied him that, but then they weren’t the same people and didn’t need to be the same height according to his ba’buir Seb. Seb was correct. They weren’t the same and that made their friendship stronger. If anyone was going to be able to help him and Luke, Ben was an excellent choice.

They were barely a meter into the main hall when Luke joined them, bowing to Din and then hugging both Ben and Grogu. 

“I can’t thank you enough for coming here on such short notice. When I found out you were on Coruscant I realized that the Force had brought us together for a reason.” Luke explained.

“It does have good timing.” Din laughed, “We were planning on leaving tomorrow. Seb wants us to join him on Mandalore for the annual report on progress. I think he’s just been missing Grogu and the Twins.”

“Jedi are connected.” Grogu pointed out to his dad. Even if Seb was no longer an active member of the New Jedi, he still cared about the Jedi.

“That’s very true, Grogu. We are all connected. Ben, I didn’t expect to see you here. How are your studies progressing?” Luke turned to his nephew. 

“They are going well. T and Kish say I will be ready for my trials next year. I’m looking forward to that. I’ve been wanting to see if I can make some headway on Jakku.” Ben replied, smiling. 

Grogu was very glad that Ben had found the path of the Brethren to his liking. He felt a deep need to fix things that the Empire had destroyed and there was no denying that Jakku was one of those things.

“Well, that’s very good news. I trust your mother and Han are happy about that.” Luke commented, as he waved for them all to follow him. 

“I think they are. Dad definitely is. He likes the idea of me building things. Mom is just happy that I’m not running away any more.” Ben laughed as he followed his uncle.

“Life tree?” Grogu hopped up to his dad’s shoulder so he could talk to Luke better.

“Yes. We are here to see if we can save it. I have been given access to the old arboretum space and the support rooms. I’ve looked at any records I could find, but I am still not sure why it is failing. I thought Mira might join us and help with that.” Luke murmured to Din and Grogu.

Grogu fought back a laugh. Ta’lan had explained to Luke more than once that her real name was Ta’lan Bet and that Mira Ost was just a persona she created to atone for a breach she had committed as a member of the Brethren. Luke just kept calling her Mira. Maybe one day he would learn.

“Uncle, Ta’lan is busy with the twins. We are here to help you.” Ben commented before Grogu could get a word in. Sometimes the teenager did things like that and Grogu would just sigh a little. Ben still had to learn patience… much like Grogu’s mom.

“True, Luke. Mom busy with Brethren.” Grogu explained.

“I see. Very well. Follow me.” Luke seemed a little annoyed, but then he had a hard time dealing with a nephew who was taller than him and a former padawan who was older than him. 

After a ten minute walk they reached the old arboretum and seeing in such poor condition made Grogu sad. He’d liked going into the huge vaulted space and helping the various masters and Jedi manage the planets, including the Sarad Lillies that Master Selene had taught him to care for. He’d learned that they were a Mandalorian plant and were Force sensitive and could be used to heal people and detect Sith. 

They all walked over to the huge ‘Life Tree’ and saw that it was not looking healthy. He hopped off his dad’s shoulder and began to examine the huge and ancient tree. 

“Ben!” Grogu called and smiled as his friend came running over to him. Ben was still all arms and legs and looked more like a rancor when he was running than a young human. It always made Grogu smile. 

“Touch lightly. Like Mom.” Grogu directed him. 

“Yes, Master Grogu.” Ben spoke in a serious tone but Grogu could sense that he was teasing him. 

He watched as Ben approached the tree and began to breathe slowly and very regularly. Then he leaned forward and touched the bark of the tree’s trunk with just his finger tips. Then he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Wow. That’s different. What do you think Big Bro? Can we save it?” Ben asked Grogu.

That was the question. Grogu wished his old masters were around. They would be able to help him, but they were sadly long gone. 

“Check supplies. Nutrients.” Grogu replied and then trotted over to the back rooms with his friend Jedi Tam had kept all of her supplies.

“What’s wrong with it Ben?” Grogu heard Luke ask him.

Grogu knew when he entered the room. The tree was Force sensitive and no Force adepts or workers lived or worked in this building since the Empire collapsed. It was no longer getting the support and access to the Force it had once enjoyed. So it needed other sources of nutrients to help keep it healthy. 

“It’s hungry. For nutrients.” Ben replied and then followed after Grogu. 

Grogu had found what he was looking for and was glad that he had. He went to lift it with the Force when he heard a voice speak to him.

“Others can the work, help with.” 

Grogu wondered briefly if Ben was playing a trick on him. 

“I’m small, not helpless.” Grogu returned somewhat brusquely, not caring for Ben’s joke.

“A youngling when I saw you last, a master now I see.” 

Uh, oh. 

Grogu turned slowly and saw Master Yoda, floating on his special chair, smiling at him. He had glowing blueish outline and Grogu realized that he was talking to Master Yoda’s Force ‘ghost’. Not really a ‘ghost’ but not a living being either. 

“Matters not what form I take. He he he.” The ancient Jedi laughed at his own joke. 

Grogu shook his head.  It had been a very long time since he had seen Yoda. So much had happened. What should he tell him? 

“Save tree. Good for Coruscant.” Grogu choose his words carefully. 

“Yes. Yes. Good. Saved Ben. Better for Coruscant.” Yoda replied. 

“Ben good. Brethren. Not Jedi. Different path.” Grogu replied. 

“Did not otherwise say. Where is Luke?” Yoda asked, looking around the room.

“He’s out by the tree talking to your dad, Grogu.” Ben answered as he passed right through Yoda’s projection. 

“Yoda asked. I knew that.” Grogu commented as he pointed the Force ‘ghost’ out to Ben. 

Ben stood there a minute and then grinned. 

“My grandfather told me to say ‘hello there’ to you, should we ever meet. Hello there.” Ben chuckled as he looked at the diminutive Jedi who Grogu bore a clear resemblance to. 

“Hello there? Hello where? The boy was always too lighthearted.” Yoda spoke, his annoyance clear. 

“He wished to be lighthearted. His is happy that I can be light hearted. Would you like me to get Luke?” Ben replied as he pulled down a bag of the nutrients that Grogu had pointed out to him. 

“Yes. Luke here bring.” Yoda commanded, as Grogu grinned at his tall friend. 

He was glad that Ben was balanced in the Force and did not find Yoda’s words too harsh. He now recalled that the Grand Master of the Jedi was far less patient than his friends and family among the Brethren. 

“Questions have you?” Yoda demanded of Grogu as Ben left the room with the bag of nutrients.

“No. Good. You?” Grogu asked politely. He knew this was a big deal, but somehow, after working with the Brethren and having access to so many, many, holocrons, he wasn’t as overwhelmed as he thought he might be.

“Questions for you have I?” Yoda asked, incredulously.

“Master Yoda! Ben said you were here!” Luke was at the doorway now. 

“Reported accurately did he. Talk we must.” Yoda seemed to turn and face Luke, although Grogu could still ‘see’ him just fine. He wondered if that was the effect of working with the Brethren. He’d have to ask his mom about that.

He used the Force to collect another bag of nutrients and brought them out to the tree, leaving Luke to talk with Yoda. He explained to Ben what needed to be done and let his friend take a larger hand in completing the task. Instead he walked over to his dad and hugged his leg.

“Hey buddy, thanks, but what’s the hug for?” Din asked reaching down and offering to pick Grogu up. Grogu stepped into his arms and allowed himself to be lifted.

“Love you, Dad.” Grogu replied, tapping his head gently against the Mandalorian’s helmet. 

“I love you too, Son. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Keeping you as dad. Don’t need more of them. You are enough.” Grogu replied thinking of all the times he had wondered who his father really was, only to realize, when he saw Master Yoda again, that he’d always known that Din Djarin was the only father he would ever need. 

[shadowmaat]

picking up the crumbs

Spoilers for the Mandalorian S3 finale ahoy:

I haven't watched the third season of the show because I could tell it was heading in a direction I didn't want to follow. And I'm not here to shame anyone who loved the season, I just want to play around with some of the elements.

The Force-sensitive clone "army." Experiments with cloning Force-sensitives or trying to induce Force sensitivity have, historically, not amounted to much. Still, if you're gonna introduce the idea you might as well use it.

However, just because you manage to grow a Force sensitive doesn't mean you'll be able to make them obey. Have someone who hides their ability or masks how strong they are. They bide their time, going along with things while they try and figure out what the hell is going on, but the vibes here are rancid and eventually they make their escape or- better yet- stage a breakout in order to rescue all their sibs, whether they're Force-sensitive or not. That'll give you a nice little faction that plays by their own rules and has an agenda that doesn't always line up with what the "good" guys want. If you're bored, you could even have Snoke be one of the rescues, except he decides he LIKES all that evil shit and heads off on his own to plot the sequels.

The remaining faction could stay secluded and remain an unknown factor. Or maybe they decide to join Grogu on Mandalore; that'd give you an interesting dynamic and also provide a basis for more Force-sensitive Mandos in the future. Which could be a nice way to finally move past Mandalore's bloody violent history of conquest or it could spell trouble somewhere down the line. Personally I'm in favor of the former just because I'm tired of the collective brain cell of Mandalorians being cued to "violence."

I still think Bo-Katan is a terrible choice as Mand'alor, especially since her story thus far has done nothing to reconcile her past and future. Good writers would acknowledge the abhorrent shit she was involved with in Death Watch and would have her proving that she's changed. We didn't get that, though, so perhaps a little ambiguity about her motives would keep it interesting. She says she wants to unite Mandalore and bring "her" people home, but is it as altruistic as that? Does she have hidden motives? Is she planning to make Mandalore a planet of conquerors again?

Din being sent out on bounty hunting missions again makes sense in a "we're struggling to rebuild and need all the money we can get" kind of way. It's a nice callback to S1, but far more expansive; it isn't just one small covert he's trying to support, it's a whole planet. And he isn't in it alone. Other Mandos are out there in the universe; some are also bounty hunters while others are traders, crafters, or just hardworking at whatever job they have. He can also call upon this support network if he needs help or resources. He may be working on his own but it doesn't mean he's alone, y'know?

Plus, if you go with the idea of Bo-Katan having Ulterior Motives then her sending Din out as much as possible makes sense in a "he's the most likely to figure out what she's doing" kind of way. All jokes of his obliviousness aside, he can still have a sharp mind and if he thought the Mando'ade were in danger, you can be damn sure he'd act on it.

As for the Darksaber, I'd say this would be a good place to inject a little Weird Shit. Don't have the Darksaber get destroyed, have it disappear. In a blink. One minute it's there, the next it's gone. WAS it destroyed? Did someone somehow steal it? Where is it now?

The story potential of it just disappearing could be fun. You have the whole question of if the Darksaber was the only reason people followed Bo-Katan or if the symbol of ages past is no longer as important as survival. And DID she really lose it or did the Darksaber decide she was unworthy and remove itself from the picture? (If she WAS planning dastardly things that would certainly be another interesting point.) Where did it go? If it wasn't destroyed it could potentially turn up again anywhere at any time. Past or future. Maybe it went back to Tarre. Maybe Finn's gonna find it at some point. Or maybe it's stuffed in the back of Din's junk drawer, waiting for Grogu to get old enough to use it.

I do understand that the Darksaber is, in a way, the Mandalorian equivalent of the "Sacred Texts" and that sometimes it's necessary to move beyond a symbol, I just think there are more interesting ways to move on.

Anyway, yeah. Mando is a fun sandbox and canon doesn't matter. lol