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doktordismemberment · 2 years ago

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Roundup #3: Albums of the Year Edition

I dunno, I guess what I'm doing here is officially a "real zine" enough to justify doing a year end list... So here ya go.

These are in no order, and this list is guaranteed to be at once utterly sprawling and yet somehow still woefully incomplete.

No cool points here, just one man's deeply flawed taste in music. Don't like something? Blow me.

Worm - Bluenothing - Synth Assisted blackdeath gloom from the blighted swamps of Florida. Hits my ears like a cross between Disembowelment and Morgion, two of my favorite bands ever, shot through with David Gilmour-esqe leads.

High Command - Eclipse of the Dual Moons - Easily the best crossover/ thrash album I've heard in the past 25 years.

Hath - All That Was Promised - I've been struggling to think of descriptors for Hath for like half an hour but I think when you get right down to it they really remind me of Zhrine and I really want there to be more Zhrine.

Dissonant Immolation/ Incantation style DM heft meets moments of icy blackened blasting and a searing, spiraling, sense of melody.

Black Magnet - Body Prophecy - Highly entertaining mid 90's style industrial rock. The type of album that Nine Inch Nails should still be making.

Tzompantli - Tlazcaltiliztli - If you took Mortician or Bolt Thrower riffs and played them like Paradise Lost or Anathema it would probably sound something like Tzompantli.

The Offering - Seeing the Elephant - If I'm being 100% honest think I slightly prefer their previous album (especially the vocal performance), but "Seeing the Elephant" is still fucking a fucking killer slab of ultra-streamlined modern metal.

Stormruler - Sacred Rites & Black Magic - This new Stormruler album caught me in a super receptive mood the other day so their ultra-catchy blend of Dissection riffs and frantic Immortal style blasting sneaks in under the wire to and onto my year end list.

Vorga - Striving Toward Oblivion - I'm both a metalhead and an irredeemable sci-fi nerd so Vorga's music totally appeals to me. Reminds me of Darkspace if they were slightly more "present" in the material plane.

Veilburner - VLBRNR - Wingnutty EFX-overloaded space death metal cut from a similarly antimatter stained cloth as Gorguts/ Mithras/ Gigan. I fucking loved their previous album and this new one is just as good, possibly even better.

Goatwhore - Angels Hung From the Arches of Heaven - I've been a big Goatwhore fan since their first album came out back in 2000... Still have all their albums. Always enjoy seeing them live. And while this new one doesn't break a whole lot of new ground it is new material from a band I consistently enjoy so it gets two thumbs up as far as I'm concerned.

Sometimes you wanna be challenged, sometimes you just want the musical equivalent of pizza and beer.

Chat Pile - God's Country - I've heard this album sneeringly derided as sounding like "Nu-Metal" but that's fucking stupid... It sounds like fuckin' Streetcleaner with David Yow on vocals.

Kardashev - Liminal Rite - I'm probably the only person on earth who thinks this, but musically Kardashev sort of remind me of Early Katatonia (Brave Murder Day) crossed with later Katatonia (Viva Emptiness).

Messa - Close - Female fronted doom from Italy. This one seems to situate itself somewhere between Mazzy Star, Sinitstro, and a Doomed out Oceans of Slumber.... Meaning it tugs at the heartstrings even as it bludgeons you with a cinderblock.

Aeviterne - The Ailing Facade - Dissonant black/ death and grimy ambient noise reconfigured into the sound of complete and utter terror.

White Ward - False Light - When I heard "depressing black metal meets jazz" I kinda wanted this to sound like Sun-Ra crossed with Bethlehem which unfortunately it does not...Instead what it sounds like is a blackened Cult of Luna with saxophone parts and I am super onboard for that.

I hope these guys are all still alive (Ukraine, war, etc.) because I would very much like another album of this stuff.

Altar - Ascetic Reflection - The perfect combination of crushing death metal dissonance and eerie melody.

Ashenspire - Hostile Architecture - Terrifyingly bleak avant metal from Scotland. Killer lyrics.

GGGOLDDD - The Shame Should Not Be Mine - Post Metal meets Portishead meets late era Swans? Something like that. Kinda scratches the Rose Kemp/ Anna Von Hausswolff/ Muscle and Marrow itch too.

Wolok - Bilious Hues of Gloom - This new Wolok sounds like their previous album caught in a glue trap... Or maybe a Gluey Porch Treatment is more appropriate.

Rigorous Institution - Cainsmarsh - PDX crusties sounding like what the Amebix reunion should have been.

Black Cross Hotel - Hex - I described these guys as sounding like Killing Joke Crossed with The Misfits and I'm sticking with that, though I will add that they also kinda remind me of a synthed out version of this early 00's Massachusetts Band called Gaskill that probably no one but me remembers.

Underneath the Deadlights - Angelic Void - I don't listen to all that much noise/ death industrial these days but this album rules.

Author And Punisher - Kruller - This was a kind of a grower, but it has become a solid favorite. Maybe not as completely insane heavy as Beastland, but packs its own creepy/ moody punch.

Cave In - Heavy Pendulum - Sixteen year old me's favorite band emerge from tragedy with one of their finest albums to date.

Voivod - Synchro Anarchy - Not my favorite Voivod album, but it's still a Voivod album so it beats 9/10 of everything else by default.

Immolation - Acts of God - Another crusher from the long running NYDM titans. Maybe better than Atonement?

Origin - Chaosmos - I've been a big Origin fan since 2001-ish and I'm stoked on this new one. As "blast" as ever with maybe a bit more "groove" than usual thrown in the mix (to the point they straight up borrow a Dying Fetus riff in one song).

AIDS - The Road To Nuclear Holocaust - Paving the road to nuclear holocaust with electronically augmented crust punk.

Bad Breeding - Human Capital - This new one sounds like an unholy gene splice of Killing Joke, Wire, and Icons of Filth.

Soreption - Jord - Insane melodic tech death that sorta sounds like an updated version of "Testimony of the Ancients" era Pestilence.

Favorite Song of 2022:

Cave In - Blinded By A Blaze

Dissappointments:

Scott Kelly - A sad ending to the career of the musician who inspired me more than probably anyone barring Tony Iommi.

Random Happy Bullshit:

Reading books again

Finally starting to learn a bit of proper music theory after being self taught for almost thirty years.

Shit that didn't come out this year that I listened to a lot:

Rotting Christ - The Heretics/ AEALO/ Theogonia - Rotting Christ were the first black metal band I ever liked and I remain a big fan to this day. I think "Non Serviam" is probably my pound for pound favorite, but I enjoy a lot of the newer albums too, especially the three mentioned above.

Autarkh - Form In Motion - Took a while to warm up to, but this is essentially what you would get if you threw Dodecahedron, Red Harvest, Fear Factory, and The Dillinger Escape Plan in a blender.

Bad Religion - Suffer/ No Control/ Against the Grain - Probably my three most listened to albums of all time.

Gary Numan - There are times I'm pretty sure Gary Numan is my favorite artist who has ever lived.

Invocator - If you crossed Exhorder with Morbid Angel it would probably sound a hell of a lot like Weave the Apocalypse. How the hell did I not know about this band til 2022?

#Year End List #Fuck This Took A Long Time To Write

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heavymetalivneedle · 3 years ago

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Derketa

#link wont paste but its from discogs #derketa #derketa band #death metal #old school death metal #usdm #osdm #doom metal #all female band #all female metal #female fronted band #female fronted metal #women of metal #women ov metal

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metalvalkryrie · 2 years ago

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New Metal To Be Excited About 2022

June 2022 Fabienne Erni of Eluveitie in Aidus So, 2022 is looking like a feast of tasty Metal fit for the Vikings of Iceland. 2020 was immense with some of the best Metal releases of all time, and 2021 was no slouch either, with too many special albums to name in one article. The past two years have been a testament of strength for any band. We lost many greats during and post-Covid. It’s been…

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queens-of-scream · 4 years ago

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Konvent

Status: Active

Vocalist: Rikke Emilie List (since 2015)

Country: Denmark

Genre(s): Death / Doom Metal

#konvent #rikke emilie list #denmark #death metal #doom metal #danish metal #all female band #female vocalist #female fronted metal

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patricksilverrose · 4 years ago

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Current Music Obsessions: June 2020

A bit late on this one since life has been a bit crazy lately, but here are my obsessions for the month of June! So let's see the honorable mentions first.

Disconnected Souls - Shatter Fairyland - Heralds of the Green Lands Aeternam - Lunar Ceremony Luminosa - Shape of a Dream Orville Peck - Hope to Die Forbidden Lore - Promised Land MoonSun - Between the Flags Viscaya - Under the Rain Ignea - Too Late to Be Born

Become Zero - Ocean Void Qveen Herby - Sugar Daddy Skarlett Riot - Human Behemoth - Bartzabel Fallon Bowman - In Your Room (version 2) Strain of Chaos - Lethargy Slave Mandragora Scream - Devil's Whisper The Browning - Skybreaker Qveen Herby - Dump Truck Omega Infinity - Venus Angel - Darkness Ignea - I Tokuni (Eivor cover) The Naked and Famous - Death

And here are my main obsessions.

Oceans of Slumber - A Return to the Earth Below

This new album is gonna be a fucking power house and I can't wait for it. This song is just so raw and powerful and really shows how talented of a singer Cammie is. The crushing guitars are absolutely epic. And there's something so nostalgic about the chorus to me, like something straight out of the 90′s.

Monica Naranjo - Europa

I was recommended this song to do a reaction to, but it didn't work out due to copyright laws. But it didn't stop me from being absolutely in love with the song. It's so powerful and lovely. I've been looking into more from her and she's an absolute queen.

Dream Ocean - Pendulum of Time

I love that they're experimenting with new things with this new single. It's still very true to their sound, but it's so dark. I can't wait to hear the new album. I know it's gonna be amazing. Lost Love Symphony was a hidden gem from 2017, and I know this new release is gonna a great predecessor. I hope they have some other dark songs like this and that their front woman continues to show more versatility with her range.

Dark Sarah - Melancholia

This song has me so hyped for their new story and album. It's so beautiful and dramatic. Heidi is really making a new name for herself with Dark Sarah after parting ways with Amberian Dawn. This song just packs such a beautiful and majestic punch and I absolutely love it.

Khemmis - A Conversation with Death

I just love this song. It has such a classic doom feel that I just love so much and the singer's voice is so deliciously deep. It's such a grim song, but is so pleasant to listen to. And those riffs. Yes.

Aeternam - Hanan Pacha

Al Qassam turned out to be such an epic album for me. I didn't expect to love it as much as I do. And this song right here is my favorite off it. It's so beautiful, but so intense at the same time. The riffs are outstanding, the orchestrations are so powerful, and their front man's cleans are so stunning. Such a wonderful punch this song packs.

And that's it for June. Not as long of a list this month since I was pretty busy and all over the place in June. Let's see if July yields the same results lol.

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cuntess-carmilla · 2 years ago

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Goth music for Evanescence fans

Are you an Evanescence fan (casual or avid) interested in finding actual goth music?

Well, here's a playlist full of like 98% female-fronted goth songs that are mostly Rock-based with dark emotional themes, dramatic riffs, creepy yet beautiful atmospheres, the occasional symphonic element or classic piano, and haunting vocals. The few songs with male vocalists tend to match the particular dark and miserable vibe of Fallen + pre-Fallen Evanescence.

What qualifies me to make such recommendations? I may be an Evanescence hater now (sorry), but they were the band that introduced me to dark alt music when I was 14 in 2006, and were my absolute favorite band for two years before that (special interest level obsession) until I discovered real goth music in early 2007.

Disclaimer: Before ANY goth comes at me for having included Theatre of Tragedy songs in a goth playlist, you cannot convince me that Aégis specifically ISN'T a Gothic Rock album plain and simple. It sounds NOTHING like their Gothic Metal. You can patently hear the Sisters of Mercy influences in songs like Poppæa or even of The Banshees in Samantha. Some songs in that album are even more Ethereal Wave than Gothic Rock such as Siren, Angélique or Cassandra.

Evanescence fans should try out everything between Theatre of Tragedy's debut and Aégis tbh, even if only Aégis is goth. They were SO good and Liv Kristine's vocals are both angelical and technically pristine. She sounds even better live.

Bands I particularly recommend to Evanescence fans interested in goth music:

Die Laughing: I fell in love with them in 2009 because I instantly thought "This is how Evanescence would sound if they were actual Gothic Rock". Beautiful soft mezzo-soprano vocals, full melancholy, epic compositions.

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(old) Dead Souls Rising: Darkwave with hints of classical composition (the vocalist is also a violinist), haunting mezzo-soprano vocals and a persistent preocupation with romanticized death.

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Diva Destruction: Extremely brooding Darkwave by a pianist and dramatic alto singer. Intense atmospheres, good balance between synths and Gothic Rock guitars. Songs about heartbreak and betrayal.

youtube

Virgine Dramatica: Gothic Rock and Darkwave with delicate and emotional soprano vocals. PURE romantic doom with beautiful keyboard arrangements and highly melancholic atmospheres.

[WARNING FOR FLASHING LIGHTS IN THE VIDEO]

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This Ascension: Between Gothic Rock and Ethereal Wave. Gorgeous, sometimes nearly operatic mezzo-soprano vocals, can go almost neo-classical or downright so in some tracks. Poetic, dark romantic, masterful musicianship.

youtube

The Shroud: Started out as Gothic Rock with hints of Deathrock, ended up Ethereal Wave. Delicate mezzo-soprano vocals, poetic, gloomy and brooding lyrics, a fixation with literature and all things antique and romantic.

youtube

Autumn: Gothic Rock with guitars a bit heavier than most of the genre. Lyrics about despair, dramatic alto vocals, intensity and darkness. I think they represent even more what Evanescence would sound like if they were actually goth than Die Laughing does.

youtube

Requiem in White: Legitimately operatic soprano vocals. Shredding Deathrock guitars with Ethereal Wave influences. Brooding, extremely romantic and atmospheric.

youtube

#Spotify #Youtube #evanescence #goth #gothic

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heartsofminds · 2 years ago

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Blooming II (Sneak Peek)

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley screeched, “I’ll fucking kill you!” or The precursor to Bradley Bradshaw’s commitment issues in the Blooming series.

Warning: Contains curse words, sexual connotations, and a brief mention of an age-gapped relationship.

A/N: Welcome back to the Blooming-verse, where our favorite aviator navigates where a certain youngster fits in his life. This is a preview of the second installment of Blooming to keep y’all satiated until the rest of the chapter is finished! Happy reading, and enjoy Naval Academy Rooster, a true blast from the past.

It didn’t seem weird that fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of her.

As a means to prevent himself from worrying to death or pacing around the base like a fucking lunatic, Bradley decided to busy his mind by going over his ever-growing “to-do” list that he kept in the back of his head.

Despite all the mundane tasks and intrusive and borderline obnoxious thoughts he had going a mile a minute in his brain, Bradley was surprisingly an organized thinker when it came to remembering all the things that he had to do. He carefully sifted through his responsibilities and assigned them blocks of time; effectively deciding where they would fit in his day before he checked his watch again and realized that an entire forty minutes had passed since he had last seen his girlfriend.

Something was off, and the familiar impending pit of doom that often plagued his stomach made a reappearance as he sped walked up and down the hallways of the base.

She’s fine, right? The base is huge and she’s terrible with directions so she may have just gotten lost, right? And figured that he would come looking for her, right? She’s fine. She had to be.

And when Bradley rounded a corner and was met with a supply closet at a dead end, he paused at a loud thump that followed a high-pitched moan.

“Oh God!” he heard a breathy squeak from a female voice, “Harder, daddy. Please, I’ve been so good!”

The pit in Rooster’s stomach turned into a ball of fire. He recognized that wheezy gasp anywhere. Hell, he had heard it two nights ago when he had her face down in the backseat of her 2002 Ford Focus.

He should be the only person eliciting those kinds of sounds from her. He had a death wish for whoever was on the other side of that metal door, because one thing about Bradley Bradshaw was that you never messed with anything that was his.

Rooster kicked open the door with his fists clenched to his side. He knew his ears were bright red and he felt himself starting to sweat bullets through his uniform shirt. The anger was hot as hell, and if he was in a better mood, he would make the joke that hell was right in front of him.

Her blouse was unbuttoned and it's been shifted over to one side of her chest, her nipple poking out through the gaped hole the button was supposed to secure. Her bra had long been taken off of her and the denim shorts she had worn to the base are hanging off of a random filing cabinet that was stored in there; showing that they were taken off in a frenzy.

And low and behold, the man of his disdain (even more so now than ever before) was in front of her, hoisting her up around his waist and fucking into her relentlessly. His uniform top was unbuttoned and his slacks were limp around his hips.

The sudden kick of the door opening did little to interrupt them, but Jake noticed Bradley standing in front of them; a damn near homicidal gleam in his eye and his entire body flushed pink with red hot anger. And like the asshole that Hangman is, he sent him a smirk and a wink before leaning forward to suck a hickey behind the redhead's ear.

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley screeched, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #top gun #top gun maverick #miles teller #mt #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw fic #writes #rooster

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seijorhi · 3 years ago

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SPIDER LILY

FINAL GOODBYE

“I’ll pray to meet you again in another life. For now, I have to settle with a farewell, though.”

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: blood, murder, character death, reader death, mentions of gore, yandere, serial killer oikawa <33

“Detective?”

His voice echoes through the stacks, rougher than you’re used to, laboured – but no less mocking.

You ignore it, focusing instead on the weight of the gun in your hand, on calming your heart, steadying your breath. Your torch is gone – dropped somewhere near the doors, you think – the power in the warehouse cut before you’d even arrived. Stumbling through the darkness, you only have the dim light of your cracked phone to see.

To silently follow the trail of blood, the splatters so dark against the concrete floor they almost appear black.

You’d fired two shots. One hit him in the shoulder, a nice, clean through and through. It’d slow him down a little, hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn’t cause the amount of blood you’re seeing. A gut shot, maybe – it was too dark for you to be certain. And yet with every step you creep forward, there’s more. Not just on the floor, but smeared over the boxes that line the narrow stacks. As if he’d stumbled and caught himself on the shelves, and then kept on limping forwards.

How much blood could he lose before it killed him? Surely less than this, you think. They’d taught you the exact percentage back in school, but your mind only draws a blank as you inch forward. You can smell it too, that sharp, overpowering metallic tang that lingers unpleasantly on your tongue.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Detective?” he pants, apparently unbothered by your silence.

Closer now.

Swallowing tightly, your finger, poised just above the trigger, trembles – and yet, as you dart round the corner to the next stack, you find nothing but more blood. Just like the others before.

“The ancient Greeks believed that once upon a time, humans were born with four arms, four legs and two heads, and that Zeus, fearing the power of these perfect creatures, split them in two.” A wet, shuddery breath, followed by a laugh. “They’d be doomed to wander the earth for the rest of their lives, trying to find the other half of their soul.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you don’t dare voice the question sitting like a lump in your throat. He’s delusional, you know this, but–

“You felt it that night, didn’t you?” Oikawa pauses for a moment, as if he truly expects you to answer him. That – or the pain and the blood loss was finally getting to him. “As if you’d been walking around blind your whole life, and suddenly there was light, and colour… beauty. You and I were made for each other. Two halves of the same soul, bound in this life and whatever comes next.”

Truthfully, you had felt something that night you’d let him pull you from the bar, his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, his lips hungrily kissing at your jaw. Not whatever cosmic binding he seemed convinced of, but a gnawing sense of unease that you’d tried desperately to ignore, even then.

It was the expression on his face, the way he’d stared as he fucked you, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe – pupils blown wide, that manic, feverish infatuation that felt wholly out of place for a drunken one night stand.

And now you can’t think of that night without seeing those poor girls, carved up and left in pieces, the messages he’d left for you. Nausea roils in your stomach.

“You’re bleeding out, you know,” you say, glad that your voice at least is somewhat steady. One foot in front of the other – he can’t be far now. “Let me help you–”

“It’s a little late for that,” he calls out. “You have a good aim, Detective.”

Heart lodged in your throat, gun and phone braced in your hands, you step around the corner–

Another empty stack.

Fuck.

“I’ve never considered myself to be much of a religious man,” Oikawa rasps, his voice near enough to unnerve, but in the darkness and the looming labyrinth of boxes you can’t tell where it’s coming from. “But I’ll pray to find you in the next life. For now though…”

And something like dread pools in your gut as you force your legs to move, to keep inching towards the sound of those wet, gasping breaths.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle for goodbye, darling.”

You feel the warmth at your back a split second before his knife rips at your throat.

He’s there to catch you – the two of you collapsing back against the shelves as blood sprays with every frantic, dying beat of your heart. And as you gasp, choking and desperate, clawing weakly at his arms, Oikawa’s lips once more find your temple.

“I’ll see you soon,” he breathes.

Our Bloody Valentine Masterlist

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #ofc i had to start with him #hfjdjhfgjdk #our bloody valentine

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januaryembrs · 3 years ago

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AD ASTRA - CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHPT XI. THE REVENGE

Description: With your team turning their backs on you, you and Mando have only twenty minutes before your clan of three are doomed.

Length: 5k

main masterlist

AD ASTRA MASTERLIST

Din Djarin x Jedi!reader series. Friends to lovers, (Somewhat) slowburn, female!reader, JEDI!READER, possible smut, jealous!mando, reader has problematic childhood, fluff, saviour complex!mando, canon star wars characters mentioned, Obi wan x padawan!reader, dad!obi wan, general star wars bloodshed etc\

Chapter Triggers - harassment, death, blood, make do surgery, aggression, foul language, fighting.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA

“To the stars through hardships”

"Was that thing blinking before?" Mayfeld asked, the room silent as the crew realised what Xi'an's impatience had done, "Was it?"

"No, it wasn't. He must have activated it when he dropped," You hissed at Xi'an, who simply laughed darkly with not a trace of remorse at her actions.

"Zero to Mayfeld. Zero to Mayfeld." The droid's robotic voice sounded through the comlink on the bald man's arm, though you already had an idea of what he was going to say next."I detected a New Republic distress signal homing in on your location. You have approximately 20 minutes."

Twenty minutes. That was all; before a band of X-Wings came to blast any sign of intruding life with no questions asked.

The kid. The Crest. Your heart sunk into your stomach, and you felt the Mandalorian tense up too as the dread filled him. There was no way the ship would escape the attack, nor would the kid be safe to float around hyperspace alone were you and Mando to die in this hellhole.

One wrong move and your little trio was truly fucked.

Xi'an shrugged, much too calm for the shit-storm of a situation that she had just caused and trotted towards the exit of the control room, "We only need five."

You let out a bitter sigh as Mayfeld hurried you along to follow the Twi woman, the urgency in his tone unmissable. It seems you weren’t the only one attuned to how dumb the woman’s actions had been. "Let's go, let's go, move, move, move, move!"

The team - well their team, you and Mando - ran down the corridors following Mayfeld, who listened to Zero's instructions with crucial interest. You all stopped in your tracks seeing two large units of security droids, readying themselves to start shooting at them only for Burg to become useful for the first time all day. The Devaronian man picked up one of the droids in his hulking red hands, throwing it at the other one; the force and weight of the units alone was enough to crush them into a pile of sparks and scrap metal.

You stayed silent, continuing on their mission to find whoever was in the prison cell Mayfeld had located, coming to a halt in front of cell two-two-one, "Zee, open it up."

"You have 15 minutes remaining." The droid responded unhelpfully, making you roll your eyes and shift on your feet nervously.

"Open it up!" Mayfeld practically yelled, the pressure also eating away at him.

The door slid open to reveal yet another violet Twi'lek, only this one was much taller and buffer than Xi'an, clearly a male. Mando straightened up at the sight of the prisoner, and the tension that had been thick in the air only increased by tenfold.

"Qin..." Mando said, not liking where this interaction was leading. It was much too convenient that the job he had happened to accept was the same one which led to the release of the guy he was responsible for putting behind bars in the first place. He didn't like the feeling of deceit burning in his stomach and his mind reeled over the possibilities of what the group was about to do to him and you.

This was not good. They were not good.

"Funny. The man who left me behind is now my saviour." Qin said coldly, strolling out of his cell with his eyes trained on the beskar covered man, "Mando."

Before Din could react, a heavy punch was sent to his stomach, so hard it sent him flying back into the cell Qin had just been in, his breath escaping him with a low woosh.

"No!" You yelled as the door shut on him, feeling your blasters get snatched out of your utility belt and cuffs getting locked around your hands. Xi'an smiled at you smugly, kicking you to the floor beside the cell.

"Best say your goodbyes now, princess. You and lover boy haven't got much time left," The Twi'lek woman cackled, strutting away knowing you wouldn't follow as you weren’t stupid enough to think you could take on all four of them when they had blasters and you were now somewhat immobilised. "You deserve this!" was all Xi'an yelled as you watched the group run back towards the crest, making you scramble to your feet.

"Mando!" You yelled, watching the man get to his feet shakily no doubt in shock at the turn of events, "Are you okay?"

"You need to get out of here," Din said, walking up to the door where your scared expression waited for him, "Get back to the ship, or get your blasters back so you can overpower them-"

"I'm not leaving you here,"You said incredulously at what you were hearing, "We're in this together now, di'kut, [idiot] I'm not going anywhere without you. I need you as much as the kid does."

Mando was silent staring at your shaken face, the precious seconds before your imminent doom ticking by. Din opened his mouth to say something, hating the way your eyes glared up at him sadly for insinuating you leave him to die, only to hear a remaining security droid stomping down the hallway towards them. You looked at him, orbs wide with a plan springing to mind.You tucked yourself behind the pillar closest to Mando's cell, waiting for the droid to inch closer.

The second it came into view, you attacked.

You grabbed its blaster loaded arm, yanking it towards you whilst dodging the charges sent from it in your direction. You slammed the droid's head into the cell door, Mando seeming to catch on to your plan as he grabbed the droid's arm through the open space in the wall, tugging on it hard. You held the struggling machine still while the Mandalorian ripped its arm out of its socket, taking the data probe extension with it. You dodged the oil that spilled out of the droid's broken circuit, as well as a few one-armed punches the machine haphazardly tried to send your way, watching the Mandalorian shoot it dead using its own gun. He stuck the probe into the waiting hole on his side of the wall, opening the cell door.

The two nodded at each other breathlessly before Mando headed towards the control panel with you following behind.

"We'll cut them off before they can get to the crest, make a direct passage to it that we can take and disable them so they can't come after us."

You nodded as you reached the control room, both of you trying not to stare dejectedly at Davan's dead body.

"Give me your commlink, I'll retune it so we can only hear each other," You said, grabbing his metal vambraced arm and fiddling with the wiring inside his panel. He let you do so with no protest to the closeness it brought, both of you not having the time to be in your head about the fact this level of intimacy, even so innocent, was still new to both of you. Mando shut off the lights in the corridors, hearing Xi'an's annoyed yelps as the doors began boxing them in like a rat run.

"Burg's heading this way, Xi'an a little behind him. You take her out, take her back to the cell and we'll keep them in there," Mando explained, pulling out the probe extension he'd ripped from the droid, "Qin and Mayfeld are further ahead, we still need Qin if we're going to get the money and keep Ran off us. We can deal with them together,"

You nodded, finishing up on the circuitry in his suit with a satisfying click shut, though it was somewhat fiddly seeing as the cuffs were still locked tight around your wrists.

You looked up at him somberly, knowing you’d have to part ways briefly to get back to the ship and a short panic set over you; the same panic as when you'd watched the laser brain get thrown into the cell not ten minutes earlier. "I'll see you at the ship," You said, almost forcing the promise onto him that he would be there before the New Republic came for you.

He nodded, understanding what you meant, and you set off with the plan. You ran down the nearest corridor, ducking into one of the side halls as the Devaronian man stalked past you angrily. You waited, knowing another set of lighter footsteps would soon follow along with the headache that Xi'an had given you all day.

Sure enough, as you heard the Twi'lek woman giggled with delight, you watched her pick up her pace when she saw Mando and Burg struggling for dominance in the control room. Before she could join in, however, you tackled her to the ground, wrestling one of the duel knives out of her hand as you managed to get on top of her stomach. The Twi woman, though caught off guard, didn't settle lightly and scratched viciously at your restrained arms enough to be able to gain some freedom to move her upper body.

That is; her arms and the singular lethal weapon in them.

You barely missed the blade that surely would have sliced your eye clean open, not having time to avoid the next attack that was rammed into your shoulder blade deeply. You half grunted-half screamed at the shock of the injury, feeling the blood already begin to seep out of the wound and into the fabric of your top. It was times like these you wished you had your own suit of beskar.

You had to collect your thoughts quickly, the situation not allowing for the virtue of mulling over the pain, and pinned your assailant's two purple arms to the floor as best you could, considering you still had the cuffs on your wrists. There was some fight for strength between you two: Xi'an fighting to wriggle her blade-wielding hand free once more for another blow and you trying to get the remaining knife out of her grasp.

It wasn't until you decided to change your tactic that you even moved from the position you two were in. Taking a chanced breath through the pain in your shoulder, you let go of her wrists. As you hoped, Xi'an immediately stuck her hand out violently, aiming for your exposed throat. You were quick to catch her upper arm, however, using your thighs to roll the Twi onto her front, her outstretched arm pinned down using your boot. The chain of the cuffs was wrapped around Xi'an's throat with just enough pressure to cut off the oxygen, remembering Mando's plan to keep them alive. You felt Xi'an struggle under you for a while, hands clasped firmly around her blade as she had been all day, but to no avail as your leg stayed firmly in place. Finally, she fell limp under you, leaving you to retrieve your blaster from the thieving creature's pocket, and sling her over your shoulder like dead weight.

You half jogged down the hallway to the empty cell, only to see Mando leading Burg in there at blaster point. You nodded at one another, Xi'an being thrown unceremoniously into the cell next to the angry Devaronian who seemed resigned to losing the fight. Sure enough, as soon as the door shut, a Mandalorian and an ex-padawan were running to confront the remaining two of your crew.

"You go get the bounty, you know what he's capable of better than I do. I'll sort Mayfeld out and be back on the ship before the X-Wings get here," You explained making him nod, though a frown remained on your face, "If I'm not back by the time it reaches three minutes, leave and get the kid to safety,"

Mando's head snapped towards you at that part, the pair of you reaching a crossroads in the hallway and realising you’d have to split up here.

"What happened to 'we're in this together'?" He asked gruffly through his helmet, feeling the time creeping up on you.

"Give me the probe, and you can scold me later when we're on the ship, safely," You said, the silent promise of a reunion between you in your voice.

You pessimistically knew it was entirely possible that you would be out of time. But as long as they were safe, as long as he was safe, you didn’t care.

He did as you said, knowing you didn't have time to discuss details properly and ran in the opposite direction, praying to the maker he'd see those worried eyes again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Incidentally, Mayfeld was much easier to catch now you had your blaster back, and you were helped greatly by the strobing red lights illuminating the halls making it easy to sneak up on the guy. You’d quickly disarmed him and had him walking to the cell like a punished child at blaster point, locking him in the compartment with the rest of the crew you’d met not a few hours prior.

You ran full speed back to the ship, knowing there was only a few minutes left before the heavy shooting would start. You sighed with relief when you saw the ladder rings in between the flashes of darkness, taking them two at a time in the haste you were in. You were so deep in your thoughts, hoping you'd made it with enough time for Mando to take off that you gasped when you felt a hand grab your own. You looked up, seeing the familiar helmet staring back at you and took the other outstretched gloved fingers, letting Mando practically pull you up the rest of the way.

"Thanks," You breathed, noting the Twi man you'd encountered earlier stood cuffed to one of the seats in the hull with an angry look on his face, no doubt about being separated from his sister, "Now let's get out of here"

You followed Mando up to the cockpit, smiling when you heard the little happy coo you were now accustomed to. The child sat in the co-pilot's chair, the one you usually sat in and glanced up at you with open arms and a glint in his big midnight eyes.

"Not right now squirt, we've got to make a move," You explained, watching Mando rapidly punch in the coordinates for Ran's warehouse and quickly jump into hyper-space following it. The pair of you were silent for a moment, slouching in relief that you’d escaped the inevitable fury of the New Republic's blasters. You allowed yourself just a minute with your thoughts to contradict the fast-paced past twenty minutes both of you had endured. You'd quite literally escaped with minutes to spare.

Just as you were ready to make a joke about Mando patching you up again, your shoulder aching heavily from where Xi'an had stabbed you, your mouth dropped lightyears when you saw the man pull out the tracking beacon he must have stolen from Davan's hands when he had been fighting Burg.

"Are you kriffing stupid-"

"I thought I'd give Ran a taste of his own medicine for deceiving us," Mando explained, watching the woman's face smooth out, though there was worry in your eyes as you stared at the beeping device incredulously.

"I thought I was petty," You joked, wincing when the Crest dropped out of hyperspace and your shoulder was thrown against the seat. Mando watched you closely, figuring you must have been caught at some point during the day but your dark shirt hadn't allowed for any visible injuries. He cursed himself, just as he had done not a week ago when he realised he still hadn't gotten any bacta as he had been planning on using the rewards from this trip to buy some and figured he'd have to play nurse droid once more. Not that he was complaining exactly.

"Stay here, I'll fix you up when I get back. Find the nearest planet that sells supplies while you're at it," Mando instructed, initiating the auto-landing sequence and heading back down to the hull to retrieve his pay and to give Ran his little gift. The thought alone of the smarmy old man getting what was coming to him made you smile. That and the fact Mando immediately had offered to mend you instead of leaving you to fend for yourself like you expected him to. It's not that you thought he didn't care, you knew for a fact he did, but the way you had gotten into a routine, slotted into place with one another where it was his job to patch you up after a job as it was yours to him gave you a warm, homely feeling in your stomach.

You really were the closest thing to home you could be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You barely missed the sight of the X-Wings arriving, though you heard the satisfying explosion behind you, as Mando had set the ship on course for the planet you had located for him, the two of you chuckling cynically at the sound of revenge reverberating through the atmosphere.

You went silent for a moment, the child squirming in Mando's lap to play with the teeny metal ball on the end of one of the controls protruding from the dashboard, making you laugh once more.

"We can get this one some decent food from a cantina here, better than that swill you make him," Mando teased, as you stood to retrieve the first aid kit that sat above the passenger chairs. You scoffed, offended at his words though you knew from his tone he was lying.

That he was too. He could tell you weren't the most natural of cooks, but whatever Peli had taught you on Tatooine clearly had stuck as the meals you made were just as good as his.

You swivelled to look at him, giving his helmet a quick rap with your knuckles in scolding for his mean words, only making him snort. "Cheeky bastard,"

You finally reached up to retrieve the kit, using your good side of course. You could feel the dribble of hot blood running down your arm at this point, but you hadn't had the time to care only to swear under your breath at the heavy stinging sensation you felt. Part of you, no matter how many wounds you both gave and received, was scared to look at where Xi'an had caught you knowing it would look like something from a horror holo-film, judging by how much blood you could feel pooling out of it.

"How bad is it?" Mando asked, watching you wince as you attempted to push down your shirt to give him access to the wound, onto to realise it was too tight around your neck and gave no freedom to do so.

"Xi'an caught me with that knife of hers," You explained, looking up at the dark T-Visor that stared at you, watching your actions with acute concern, "I'm going to need to take this off,"

Din went deadly silent at that, his face lighting up with a hot blush at the thought of seeing you in just your bra. He had been with women in that way, he'd had flings that he'd done some things with like with Xi'an, but it felt strangely intimate the thought of seeing his friend, dare he say best friend, in nothing more than your underwear while he tended to you.

He nodded robotically, and you yourself felt a little embarrassed that Mando would get a close-up view of your lingerie, even if it was politely. He could stare at the two mounds on your chest all he liked and you wouldn't know any different, what with him hiding behind that helmet of his. You stood, yanking your shirt up over your head only to feel a wet streak left on your cheek in its wake. Mando inhaled deeply, and you were about to tease him about his reaction were it not for the fact you realised it was because of the gaping hold near you collar bone.

"Stars, Ash" He said, looking at the oozing, nasty wound that had somewhat begun to stop bleeding thankfully, though it still left a patch of fresh red liquid around your chest. You sat down on the co-pilot chair, the child on the floor staring up at you quietly, as Mando unwrapped some surgical suture, and fiddled with a fresh needle. He handed you an antiseptic wipe to clean up the area and told you to compress the wound while he attempted to thread the needle.

"This isn't going to tickle is it?" You asked, dread gathering in your stomach at the thought of what was about to happen and to such a tender spot too. The Mandalorian shook his head, concentrating on the tiny eye that the thread seemed adamant to miss every time, and the thick leather gloves did him no help either. Din sighed, resting the needle down on his knee and yanking his gloves off, knowing they were only slowing him down and your wound needed treating now.

You took in a deep breath at the sight of his hands; huge, olive-skinned, and veins prominent over each digit. You hadn't been expecting to see any part of him ever, truth be known, but you knew from Shenzi that anything besides a Mandalorian's face was acceptable to reveal. Still a feeling close to butterflies lit your body on fire as he brought one of his large palms to hold your shoulder still. Your heart was beating rapidly, you could feel that much, and you just hoped that the Mandalorian didn't see the way your arms erupted in goosebumps despite the fact his hand was so warm as it engulfed your collar bone with the gentility of a child.

Your breath was in your throat as he moved closer, bringing his other uncovered hand holding the threaded needle up to your wound. Din felt his stomach twist excitedly when your cool breath fanned over his exposed hand gently, reminding him how close the two were in this situation.

"This is going to hurt," Din warned, watching you wince as he began to stitch up your deep injury. He tried to be tender, he really did, but there was only one way he could fix your up without bacta and this was it. He had quickly noted the multiple tattoos you had on your body and decided to try and take your mind off the obvious pain you were feeling. "What do your tattoos mean?"

You were caught off guard a little, trying so hard yourself to ignore the shooting pain from his movements, and took a deep breath to prepare yourself to speak through the discomfort.

"The names on my ribs, that’s my father and my brother," you explained, your eyes trailing over the Aurebesh symbols spelling out 'Obi-Wan' and 'Anakin'.

"I thought you said you only had a mentor at that place you grew up," Mando questioned, trying to keep you talking as the next few stitches would have to be deep.

"I did-" You stopped to grunt at the pain for a second, "He was my mentor but he was like a father to me. Same for Ani, he wasn't my real brother, but he was as good as. Obi-Wan raised him before he raised me. It was in our rules that you could only have one mentor to youngling at a time. When Ani became of age, he moved on to raise his own youngling and Obi-Wan began raising me."

"Was it like some sort of orphanage this place you lived in?" You laughed, knowing the details you had given didn't really make sense, and why would they? They were only half true.

"Kind of," You smiled at him sweetly, feeling his warm hand move slightly from your shoulder to pull the skin on your collar taught, and again you felt the flurry of warmth in your contact of human skin. The only time you had felt such a thing for the past twenty years was either the meaningless one night stands you would have with the barmen on Sorgan or the hard clash of a punch you found in an enemy. Nothing quite so tender as this, as him. "The Mythosaur skull was Shenzi. I wanted one as soon as I turned twenty. She’d been teaching me for a couple of years at that point and was adamant I should be one of you," You gasped as one particular stitch went a bit too close to a nerve making Mando slow down a little with his movements, "She used to call me her foundling,"

"What happened to her?" Din asked, taking his time with the remaining few stitches. He knew it was selfish as you were probably in a lot of pain but he loved hearing you speak so fondly about your past, you rarely opened up to each other this way. He too was enjoying the feeling of closeness today had brought, feeling his own heart pounding away at the feeling of your cool breath to his skin.

"Nothing, I just outgrew her. She was a cold woman. Though she cared for me, she didn't love me." You said, thinking about the raven black-haired woman who you hadn't seen in a few years, "Is that normal for Mandalorian's or was that just her?"

Din thought about it for a moment and, while they had certainly been more of the tough love kind of protectors, he definitely felt his own vod's [brothers/sisters] and cabur's [guardians] had loved him the way a family should have. Though he never saw their faces, they were his family, his aliit. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din", he remembered his cabur saying to him often.

Family is more than blood.

"No, they made sure I always knew that we were family, that we were a clan. Every foundling is sacred to them. They're the secret to our survival, and they are treated as such." You nodded, hearing the underlying passion in his words that he always got when he spoke of his people, you noted. You wondered if that's how you sounded when you spoke about the Jedi.

The pair of you were silent for a moment, Din finishing the remaining stitches and cutting the thread with his vibroblade effortlessly. He pulled out a bandage to wrap around your arm as it healed, the baby getting restless at the fact his protectors hadn't paid attention to him for the past fifteen minutes and begging to be picked up into your lap.

"What you had with Xi'an, was it-" You stopped yourself, thinking over your words carefully. You was treading on dangerous ground here, it was none of your business what the horrible Twi'lek woman had with the Mandalorian so you were careful not to let it slip just how much it bothered you at the idea of them together, "Is this a regular thing? You picking up women and traversing the galaxy?"

Mando stopped his movements of gently wrapping the fabric around your shoulder, meeting your curious eyes as best as he could through the darkened visor. Din swore, looking into your eyes which stared right back at him, that he could visit every planet in the galaxy and never find a hue quite like yours. You really were a beautiful woman, and he had no idea how he'd spent so long travelling the universe without finding someone or even something that compared to how you looked right now.

"Xi'an was just a workmate that kept the boredom at bay. Travelling with Ran was tedious at times and she happened to be there," Mando explained and your could do nothing but nod dumbly, your eyes trained on the child that seemed to sense the weird mix of jealousy and sadness you felt, "There was nothing about her that I wanted other than her company on a cold night,"

Din didn't understand why he felt he had to reassure you that he and the Twi woman were nothing more than an occasional body to find intimacy in. Even that was a push, they were both bored and using each other to keep the loneliness away. And you didn't know why you wanted him to either. You had only seen Mando as a friend the past few months you had known each other, but since Xi'an had mentioned their past it knocked your confidence at how different he saw you to other women, and made you feel inadequate. Like the pedestal you had put him on since that night you stayed in the barn on Sorgen with him was not returned. You could be a passing face, completely ordinary and temporary for all you knew.

He noticed your expression was still somewhat forlorn like your question hadn't properly been answered and so he continued.

"You think I just pick up every strange drunkard I meet in a bar and call them a friend, Ash?" Your head shot up at the soft way he said your fraud name like he was approaching a wild creature, before he delivered the killing blow.

"She wasn't special to me, not like you are. None of them mean to me what you do."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AD ASTRA

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Intrasolar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M Word Count: 5.8k Warnings: ANGST and SPICE and FLUFF, canon-typical violence, nonexplicit sex, cursing, nongraphic descriptions of injuries, grief, nightmares, references to drowning/death in the context of nightmares, alcohol consumption Summary: This is the sequel to Extrasolar. You'll definitely want to read that part first! Author Notes: Parts of this are from Din’s perspective (third person) and parts are from yours (second person).

You did a double take the first time you saw him, whipping your head back to watch him run a hand through his slightly unkempt hair.

You’d never seen him before. He was probably passing through the small coastal town like most people who wandered into the cantina, and he was ruggedly, strikingly handsome. You turned your attention back to the stack of credits you were sorting into the register before he noticed your staring. Your first thought was that he looked familiar, but that wasn’t quite right. He felt familiar? Did that make sense? You shook your head to banish the thought and refocused on the task at hand.

He wasn’t seated in your section, so you wouldn’t be serving him anyway.

Like every other day, you settled easily into the flow of work, welcoming the comfort of tunnel vision. Things were always busy enough at the cantina to require all of your attention, which conveniently prevented you from ruminating on things you couldn’t change.

There was one thing—or more accurately, one someone—in particular you were trying not to think about. You’d been trying not to think about him for over a year now.

Losing him had left you in pieces, a thousand jagged pieces that would never fit back together in quite the same way. So here you were—still you, but different.

Immediately after, to distract yourself from the pain, you had taken some non-Guild work only to find that everything you’d enjoyed about hunting had been warped into vile, unbearable feelings. The thrill of the adrenaline rush was poisoned into anxiety, which clouded your judgment and hindered your ability to think on your feet. The satisfaction of outsmarting a quarry was corrupted into the deep-seated guilt of betrayal and the fear of potentially dooming an innocent person to capture.

Your world of black and white had been painted shades of metallic gray, swallowed whole by the silver sheen of beskar.

So, you did what you had to do—you dismantled your life and built something new, something simple and monotone and self-contained. You removed yourself from the swirling chaos of the galaxy and planted your feet firmly on the ground. You fortified your heart against any potential entanglements by settling in a quiet place, keeping to yourself, and abandoning your old profession. Now, you were an actual waitress, not a bounty hunter who occasionally played the role of waitress to ensnare an unsuspecting quarry.

Do your job. Keep your head down. Go home.

That was your mantra.

An hour later, when you hung your apron on the peg behind the bar and turned to leave, you saw that the man was still seated. His eyes met yours, and with an unexpected wave of panic, you felt pinned, trapped by the spotlight of his gaze. You were only able to turn away when someone in the kitchen dropped a dish, the loud crash breaking the paralyzing spell. You hurried toward the exit, and in your periphery, you could tell his gaze followed you. You realized why he felt familiar: his unwavering stare and something about his posture and the mechanical swivel of his neck reminded you of him.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you stepped into the comfortably warm air of the evening and directed your feet toward home. You savored the ritual of your daily walk, taking the well-worn path bordered by a dense coniferous forest on one side and the shore on the other.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence.

At least weekly, something would remind you of him—someone laying a hand on your lower back, a gravelly voice, a Mandalorian in green armor, the pressure of a chilly window pane on your forehead, a set of especially nice shoulders...the list was endless. A memory would sink its eager claws into your throat and yank you back in time. You’d blink and be sitting at a table with him once again, holding the child on your lap, looking into the black expanse of his glass visor. You could feel the cold of his beskar under your fingers, smell his scent—metallic, warm, alluring. The memories were unlike any others you had: they were visceral, tangible.

In the beginning, these moments knocked you on your ass. When you’d stumbled and a customer wearing soft leather gloves had steadied you, you'd wrenched yourself away, unable to stand the familiar texture gripping your arms so tightly. You had to awkwardly excuse yourself and rush out the back door to take gulps of fresh air to soothe your thumping heart.

Those first few months, when the gaping wound of grief was still so raw, were brutal.

Frustratingly, these instances of heartbreak faded in intensity and frequency much more slowly than you had hoped. Here, over a year later, the hurt was the same—apparently, it would take years to build immunity to this type of pain—but you had, at least, learned how to withstand the pain discreetly. Now, you were conditioned to take it in stride.

You wove your way through the scrubby dunes, leaving the path that edged the forest to strike out on the direct route to your little house. The sound of relentless ocean waves was a grounding metronome in the back of your mind.

The grief wasn’t avoidable, but you could numb it for a while—postpone it to give yourself a break. Over time, you'd identified the things that could occupy your mind enough to offer some relief: work, the ocean, fucking, whiskey, sleep.

And, thus, you had perfected a foolproof daily routine: work, the ocean, fucking, whiskey, sleep.

You stepped onto your creaking porch and unlocked the front door. As always, you immediately went to your room to change. With a towel in hand, you walked back out your door and across the wide expanse of sand to the edge of the sea. For almost an hour, you lost yourself in the refreshing salt water, swimming laps between two rock structures that breached the surface, staying out past the tumult of the breaking swells. It was cold enough and strenuous enough that all you could do was focus on one stroke and then the next, propelling your aching body forward.

The sun was starting to set when you emerged, breathless and exhausted, and you returned home, your damp feet sinking into the rapidly cooling sand. Like clockwork, your neighbor was there, sitting on your porch—ready to commence the third act of your routine. He lived a couple houses down, and you had the perfect arrangement for both of you: regular sex without any obligation. He was beautiful, kind, uncomplicated.

When he fucked you, your mind went blank: it was like falling into white noise. You let it swallow you, let it sweep you away—because, in that nothingness, your thoughts had no surface on which to ricochet, so instead of echoing incessantly as they usually did, they faded away. It was blissful static.

Today, though, a thought found purchase. Unbidden, an image formed behind your eyelids—an unfaltering picture of that man with the overpowering gaze. It crowded your mind, and your eyes flew open, your breath shallow. You did your best to focus on the feeling of the man pressed against you, the silky sheets fisted in your hands, the slow tension building in your body.

It was futile.

You felt claustrophobic in your own head.

You gently extracted yourself from his embrace, mumbling that you had a headache. He was understanding and thoughtful, bringing you a glass of water and a pain pill before slipping out the front door to let you rest.

You ignored the pill and poured yourself whiskey instead—a more generous serving than normal in hopes of flooding the image out of your mind. When that didn’t work, you commenced the final stage of your routine early. You tossed and turned in bed, frustrated that there had been a breakdown in your system. This wasn’t supposed to happen: these five things were supposed to provide uniform reprieve every day. You tried not to agonize over it. Tomorrow would prove that this was a fluke, an anomaly, nothing more.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke early the next morning to a loud knock. Head fuzzy with sleep, you stumbled out of bed, clutching the blanket around your shoulders, and cracked the door.

It was the stranger from yesterday.

He had brown hair that needed a trim, patchy stubble along his jaw, and one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. His eyes were an inviting brown; they spoke of warm embraces and safety and home.

And when he smiled—

When he smiled shyly, his cheek dimpled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. You wanted to hold him.

You opened the door all the way.

You looked at him, and all you could think was that he was both the person you wanted to rail you with absolutely no mercy and the person you wanted to hold you when you cried.

Your grip slackened involuntarily, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders and onto the floor, pooling around your feet.

On some level, you already knew, but you were still surprised when he spoke your name and reached a hand out toward you. You took a reflexive step backward, ankle catching on the blanket, flinching away from his touch. Even without the distortion of the modulator, you’d know that voice anywhere.

“Mando—”

***

two months earlier, Nevarro

The Jedi came for the kid, and Din immediately felt disoriented without him: untethered, adrift. Over the last year and a half, everything important to him had been stripped away, and now, empty-handed, he was forced to appreciate the magnitude of what he had lost.

To cope, this new grief was shunted into the shadowy recesses of his heart to keep his existing grief—for his parents, for his tribe, for his identity, for her—company.

He told himself that work was what he needed—routine and familiarity. He could slip back into what he’d once known, back when his life had revolved solely around a job; he would recapture the focus and tireless, single-minded resolve that he’d relied on for so long. He returned to Nevarro and took the hardest jobs Karga had to offer.

Din had never told Karga what his deception had cost him—how a simple lie had completely rearranged his universe. The first time he saw Karga after he lost her, he had been legitimately tempted to kill him (fuck, it would have been so easy), but he’d been desperate for help taking down the Imp. So, Din had locked away those feelings—his longing and anger and grief shut safely behind iron bars in his heart—to prioritize the safety of the kid. And even now that the kid was with his people, Din was afraid to tap into that rage and hurt, terrified that he’d unleash something wild, a destructive force that would overpower him.

Besides, Karga was a means to an end, nothing more. He didn’t deserve to know. And so, Din guarded the story jealously. He didn’t even tell Cara when she prodded gently.

Evidently, however, in the wake of losing the kid, Din’s heart was at capacity, and bounty hunting was not a compelling enough distraction from the clamoring of so much grief unacknowledged. On jobs, he was inefficient and reckless, making rookie mistakes he hadn’t struggled with in decades. He felt none of his old drive. What was he doing this for? What was the point? He’d always had a guiding star, a direction, a mainstay, a why. Not anymore.

Din was desperate to feel grounded; he yearned for the reassuring sanctuary of gravity, but everything large enough to hold him down was gone. So he was left to wander aimlessly and alone.

Several weeks into his failing plan, Din limped up the ramp of his new ship and hoisted an unconscious body into the carbonite chamber before collapsing onto the floor. He’d been careless. The quarry had managed to outfox him at every turn, prolonging what should have been a two-day job into a two-week struggle. In the end, Din had caught him, but not before he’d pursued him across miles of unforgiving desert and been stabbed twice.

He was in pain, exhausted... and despite the fact that he’d captured the bounty, he felt utterly defeated. The thrill of eluding danger and the rush of pride that used to accompany the successful completion of a job were absent. He hadn’t felt those things in months.

He lay there on the floor of the hull, chest heaving. Without lifting his head, he closed the ramp and initiated the ground security protocols with his vambrace. He knew he should get up. The wounds on his side and his thigh were slowly leaking blood, and he needed to tend to them right away. His body required water and food, then sleep.

Any minute, he’d get up and grab his medkit.

Any minute.

Instead, Din thought about the things he had lost.

There were the inanimate things, the loss of which shouldn’t weigh on his soul the way they did, but when almost everything in his life was transient, the few things that were enduring became significant, whether he liked it or not. He thought about his Amban Rifle—a reliable companion in his solitary existence. There was an endless list of threats that rifle had saved him from: a Ravinak, quarries, hunters, raiders, an AT-ST, troopers, a kriffing Krayt Dragon. On an almost daily basis, he found himself reflexively reaching over his shoulder for it, only to close his hand around the cold beskar spear.

And there was the Razor Crest, the closest thing he’d had to a home for decades. It had been as integral to his sense of self as his armor, something he didn’t realize until it was gone. He hated every inch of this new, unfamiliar ship. It held no memories, and memories were the only source of warmth that made a real difference to him in the unforgiving chill of space. In the Crest, he could picture the kid, and her, and even Cara and Kuill; he knew where they fit. In this ship, there were only blank silver expanses.

Then, there were the people he'd lost.

Din thought about his tribe, the haunting image of a pile of empty beskar shells flitting through his mind. In the past, his duty had sometimes felt like a burden—the responsibility to provide for so many resting on his shoulders alone—but now, he realized it had been his backbone. Without it, everything crumbled. What felt like chains holding him down had, in reality, been scaffolding, maintaining every bit of his integrity.

He knew it was time to look for what remained of his covert, but he could barely bring himself to think about it, let alone do anything. What happened if he searched and found no one? The prospect of seeking out the splintered fragments only to find that none survived was even harder to fathom than leaving it unknown. If he didn’t search, there was always the possibility that they were out there. He was being a coward in the name of preserving what little hope he had left. It was selfish.

But... that wasn’t the only reason he delayed.

Din thought about his lost identity, his broken Creed. Did he even have the right to seek out his tribe when he was no longer one of them, no longer a Mandalorian? Was he still a Mandalorian? He still wore his armor, but he wasn’t totally sure why—another question he couldn’t answer. If he was no longer a Mandalorian, how could he possibly have a rightful claim to the Mandalorian throne? The Darksaber sat at the bottom of his weapons locker, burning another hole in his already frayed conscience.

This was what he was left with after he took off his helmet that first time, a swarm of needling questions that ate at him every day.

But it was worth sacrificing the Creed for the kid.

Right?

He thought about Grogu, a tiny, three-fingered hand on his face. He wondered what he was doing, if he was happy, if he thought of Din as often as Din thought of him. At least he had a face to attach to his memories now. Was he learning a lot from the Jedi? Did he get to spend time outside playing in the sun? Was anyone rocking him gently to sleep the way he liked when he was fussy?

And, finally, he came to the last entry in the catalog of what he’d lost in the last year or so: he thought about her. To be fair, he had never really had her. He never had the chance to call her mine, but they’d had potential—the promise of something more, a bright shiny glimmer of hope. At a time when Din’s world was turned upside down, right after he’d broken the Guild code to save the child from the Empire, when he was totally out of his depth and everything around him felt like chaos... she had made him feel still. And that was a hell of a thing to lose.

Even after she revealed her true motives, he couldn’t shake that feeling—that feeling that she was the thing he was supposed to orbit.

He could picture so vividly the way her features lit up when he and the kid walked into the cantina. He could hear the musical cadence of her laugh, feel the comforting warmth of her hand over his, smell the light floral notes of her hair.

With those details playing through his mind, he drifted off. He let grief and exhaustion and defeat pull him under.

Din couldn’t breathe. He was underwater, suffocating weight pressing in around him as his heavy beskar dragged him deeper. She was drowning, arms and legs flailing as something with an iron grip on her ankle drew her down. He reached for her, arms outstretched, but he couldn’t keep pace with her descent. His lungs burned, begging for air, as the reassuring light of the surface retreated above him. He watched in horror as her eyes widened in panic, and she choked, lungs filling with water. He tried to yell, kicking toward her frantically, but she stilled, all the fight leaving her body.

He woke with a start, adrenaline coursing through his veins. In a panic, he ripped off his helmet, letting it clang loudly against the metal floor, and took several shaking breaths. Clarity burned through him like acid. With the little strength he had left, his head swimming from dehydration and blood loss, Din hauled himself to his feet and did the simple list of things that would keep him alive.

He couldn’t wear his helmet after that. Every time he put it on, he felt like he was suffocating, the years of bearing the heavy beskar no match for the stifling weight of his shame. And the armor felt wrong without the helmet, so he stopped wearing that too. He locked it away with the Darksaber.

To move forward, he had to let what little he had left fall away.

In the following weeks, he traced her name, her chain code, her age. He recalled every detail she’d shared with him—about her family and past and likes and dislikes, anything that might give him some clue as to where she’d be. He worked from a holomap on which he'd meticulously marked off the planets he'd already eliminated as possibilities. He'd had to recreate this map after he lost the Crest, but that was easy enough, as he vividly remembered each and every planet he'd scoured.

And eventually—ironically, thanks to some information from Karga—Din uncovered the promising golden thread of a lead.

He tracked her to a planet that was largely water, one known for its expansive oceans, beautiful coastlines, persistent sunshine, and temperate weather—her ideal home. He felt the softest stirring of hope in his chest, knowing that she was where she wanted to be.

The first time he saw her again, it was from afar, but he knew her by the way she carried herself, her unmistakable walk. His heart stuttered. She was as beautiful and perfect and bright as he remembered. He didn't realize until that moment that a small part of him had worried he'd built her up, romanticizing the memories until she was more than human in his mind. But there she was, just as ethereal as in his daydreams.

For those first few days, all Din did was watch her. He reminded himself that she wasn’t a quarry, but there was some information he needed, and this was the only way to get it. He wanted to know if she was happy; he wanted to know if his appearance would be welcome or disruptive.

He studied the topography of her life, searching for any hint that there was a place in it for him.

He smiled when he found out that she lived in a small cottage right on the beach. He stopped breathing, fists clenching by his sides, when he watched her walk into the waves and disappear, only to reappear seconds later. For the briefest moment, his mind flashed back to his nightmare, and he had the mad impulse to follow her and pull her out. But he knew she never needed saving.

Even still, he waited at the edge of the forest until she emerged.

Frustratingly, the more he watched her, the less certain he became. He knew what she was to him, but how was he to know what he was to her? He had been a job that had evolved into something more. She had confirmed that what had grown between them was also real for her—the written proof was folded neatly in his pocket. So surely, she had real feelings for him at some point... but how real? And how enduring? Her feelings had been tamped down, reined in because she was doing a job. How successful had she been at burning them away? How much had her feelings been eroded by time? It had been over a year... maybe that was too long.

He watched a man walk up and sit on her front step, awaiting her return. She approached him with a smile on her face, salt water dripping from her hair, and took his hand, leading him inside.

Fuck, that smile.

Was her solar system already complete? Or was there still room for a devoted moon? Would she want it to be him?

In the end, Din told himself that if she could take the leap of faith and trust him so many months ago, he owed it to her to swallow his fear and let her make this choice for herself. Last time, he had made her feel like he didn’t want her, and that was his biggest regret.

He wasn’t going to do that to her again.

***

“Mando—”

She looked scared.

He didn’t expect fear. He expected confusion, surprise, irritation, apathy, maybe even anger? But never fear. But there he was, standing in front of her, and fear flashed across her eyes.

“Din,” he rushed to get the words out, “My name is Din.”

The fear faded as quickly as it came.

“Din,” she repeated.

He’d imagined her saying his real name hundreds, if not thousands of times, and his imagination got nowhere close to the real thing. His throat felt tight.

She stepped forward, raising her hands to frame his face. Her eyes glazed over slightly; she was entranced as she took him in, caressing his cheeks and scanning his features like she was trying to commit every detail to memory.

Din leaned into her touch, closing his eyes to savor the moment. His breathing slowed, and for the first time in months, he felt still.

When he opened his eyes again and met hers, she startled slightly, like she hadn’t realized what she was doing.

“Sorry—”

She started to lower her hands, but Din caught them, bringing them back up to his face, unwilling to lose the contact.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling uncertainly. The corner of her mouth quirked up in the beginnings of an answering smile.

They stood there for a moment, Din holding her hands against his face.

He’d planned what he was going to say, rehearsing it in his head at length, because he was worried as soon as he saw her, he’d revert to his inability to string words into sentences. Sure enough, despite his preparation, his mind was blank.

So instead, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

In response, she slid her hands around his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers, and relief spread through him like a cleansing fire, stealing the breath from his lungs.

***

When your lips met, everything fell into place; it felt like the universe spontaneously rearranged itself and finally got it right—every planet and every star and all the empty space in between attained perfect alignment in an instant.

You had no idea that one moment could curate the arrangement of the cosmos exactly to your liking.

You pulled Din backwards across the threshold into your house, kicking the door shut behind him without losing contact with his lips. You were both desperate and clumsy and impatient, hands everywhere at once.

He was just as you remembered and completely new. You recognized those shoulders, those hands, that scent—he somehow retained the metallic twang of beskar even without the armor. The way his breath hitched and his chest expanded when you slipped your tongue past his parted lips was familiar, reminding you of his reaction the first time you touched him.

But you’d been privy to such a limited sliver of him before; now, here he was, laid bare for you to learn again, and so you charted his features with your hands, your lips, your eyes, every part of you. Eager to close what little space remained between your bodies, you pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and he obliged, tugging it off until it slid to the floor.

A dim thought rankled at the back of your mind, a reminder that you were taking the life you’d carefully constructed and throwing it straight out the fucking window, inviting uncertainty directly into your orderly world.

You were finding it difficult to care when Din’s hands were lighting a fire across your skin.

You had a million questions for him, but only two were louder than the need humming in your veins. You broke away for a moment to say, “Where’s the baby?”

“Grogu—”

You were both panting, slipping words in between kisses, too enthralled in each other to stop and have a real conversation.

“What?”

“That’s his name—”

Palms on his chest, you pressed him against the wall, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He groaned and lolled his head back when you sucked one beneath the sharp corner of his jaw so you did it again.

“Fuck—he’s with the Jedi—he’s, uh, he’s with his people now. I brought him back to them.”

At that, you actually did stop, stepping back to look into his eyes, hands linked behind his neck.

“You must miss him so much.”

His eyes met yours for the briefest moment then flicked away, grief written plainly on his face. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But he’s where he belongs.”

Din wrapped his arms around you, drawing you into his tight embrace and resting his chin on the crown of your head. Unspoken words hung in the air: and this is where you belong.

Ear pressed to his chest, you smiled and asked, “And your helmet?”

He hesitated. “I... I took it off to say goodbye to the kid. I couldn’t let him go without showing him my face...” His voice caught, and he paused to take a deep breath. “I sacrificed the Creed to do it, and I still don’t know if it was the right decision.”

“Of course, it was the right decision,” you said earnestly, nodding against him, “You told me how precious foundlings are, and you prioritized your foundling. How could that be wrong?”

You were the farthest thing from an authority on the Mandalorian Creed, but you were certain—so deeply, painfully certain—that Din was a good person and sharing love with a child could never be wrong.

“I don’t know what’s right anymore...” He ran a hand over his eyes, scrubbing it over his face as he let out a resigned huff. “I found out that some Mandalorians do take off their helmets, so I don’t know what to believe.” He sounded exhausted, lost.

You pulled away to fix him with a fierce look, framing his face with your hands to force him to meet your gaze. “You cared for Grogu and kept him safe and brought him to his people. You protected a child, loved a child. That’s what matters. An arbitrary rule is nowhere near as important as that, and breaking it doesn't change who you are. I think you already know that.”

He stared intently, and you worried for a second that you’d offended him, stepped over an invisible line by assuming you knew better than he did what was right or wrong in this case.

“I’m sorry, I—”

He crashed his lips against yours once again, and when you stumbled back in surprise, Din steadied you, holding you upright.

There was nothing else pressing you needed to know in that moment; you had everything you needed in this, the refuge of his arms. There would be time for everything else.

He slipped his hands under the hem of your shirt and before he could even ask, you ripped it over your head, tossing it aside. He responded in kind, divesting himself first of the several weapons strapped to his belt and his calf, then his shirt.

You raked your eyes down his face to his perfect chest—muscled, golden brown, littered with a constellation of scars—and mused, “You know, if I had known from the beginning that you looked like this under your armor, I’d have thrown my entire plan out the window to fuck you immediately.”

He barked out a surprised laugh. “I would have preferred that.”

Laughing, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall to your bedroom. He paused at your doorway to say, “I, uh, I want you to know—this isn’t what I came for.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What did you come for?”

“I—just... you.”

“Then take me.”

“I mean... All of you, not just this.”

You slid your fingers under his belt and jerked him forward, smiling mischievously: “Well, we have to start somewhere.”

He laughed, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

And when he did take you, when you closed your eyes, you didn’t slip into that familiar static. You stayed—there, with him, where you belonged. It was all whispered praises and breathless moans and a tangle of euphoric thoughts. It was overwhelming, a hum of lust and safety and longing, a hyperawareness of every sensation. You felt held—carefully, lovingly, preciously.

Hours later, you were lying with your head on his chest, the steady beating of his heart a reassuring cadence in your ear. You lifted your head slightly to look up at him: “Why now?”

He looked down and furrowed his eyebrows. “Because I happened to find you this time.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers traced intricate patterns on your back. “I looked for you that day. I looked for you for a couple weeks after, and I would have found you if I’d had more time... but then I was quested with finding the kid’s people, so I had to stop. But whenever I was near a temperate planet with an ocean and had some time, I stopped to look for leads. And then when the Jedi came for the kid, I, uh, was lost for a bit... I tried to work to distract myself from everything but I couldn't. So... I had time again. I had to find you.”

He said it so unsentimentally. He put his devotion into words like it wasn’t a declaration of love—he recounted it like a simple fact.

You sat up and swung a leg over his hips, pressing your lips against his once again. He straightened, running his hands down your back and crushing you against his chest. The tempo of your breath kicked back up in tandem.

It was a relief that you were both on the same page: you had over a year of touch to make up for, and you were shameless in your pursuit of that goal.

You mumbled against his mouth, breathless: “That day—the day I left... I thought you hated me.”

Din leaned back, brow wrinkled in genuine confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You said the person you were falling for didn’t exist.”

“You let us go. You proved me wrong.”

“Oh.”

“Even if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have hated you. You thought you were doing the right thing. I shouldn't have said that... I didn't meant it. I was hurt. And drugged.”

“Oh.”

You shook your head, laughed. What could you do but laugh? It didn’t matter anymore. Why mourn what little time you had lost when you had what you needed stretched out infinitely before you?

It tasted like hope, this feeling—to be able to look forward once again, to broaden your horizon back to the endless possibility it once promised. Finally, you’d be able to move freely, unencumbered by the need to maintain safeguards around your heart. You could venture out into the galaxy knowing wherever you went with him, you'd never be lost.

Smiling, you asked: “So, what now?”

He looked down and clasped your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. When his eyes met yours again, there was so much uncertainty there, so much unease, you almost had to look away.

Fuck. The bright light in your chest faltered like the wavering of an unsteady flame.

“I—There’s something I need to do. A few things, actually... things I’ve been avoiding, but I know I can do them now. I’m sorry, I'll have to go, but I needed to find you first,” he stopped, then rushed to add, “but I know you like it here. I wouldn’t ask you to leave—to come with me. No, but I’ll come back. Of course, I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you, for as long as you want me.”

The light in your chest expanded, filling every inch of you with warmth. You smiled at him, placing a reassuring hand over his thumping heart, and leaned down to press your forehead to his.

You closed your eyes. “I want you to ask.”

He let out a relieved sigh, holding you closer. “Will you come with me?”

You kissed a word into his lips: yes.

***

Tagging those who expressed interest in a sequel to Extrasolar: @disgruntledspacedad @thirstworldproblemss @dincrypt @beskarhearts @goldielocks2004 @elinedjarin @speakerforthedead0 @thosewickedlovelies @theawkwardpedestrian

Everything tag list: @spideysimpossiblegirl

I hope I didn't miss anyone! I'm sorry if I did!

#extrasolar #intrasolar #my writing #din djarin fan fiction #the mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin reader insert #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #mature #angst

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