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ceapa-mica · 2 years ago

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GEHAT'IK BE ALIIT | Chapter 21

{cross-posted on ao3} {masterlist}

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Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

Warnings: violence, blood & gore, suggestive remarks

Words: 4454

Summary: The offensive to save Ristea and Din's covert begins…

a/n: HAPPY MANDO SEASON 3 RELEASE DAY!

Is there a better way to celebrate than reading a brand new chapter of a fic you like?

I put a lot of effort into this chapter. Writing two different scenes taking place at the same time at different places is new to me, but I will get used to it. I'm working hard on improving my writing. Also kudos to my beta readers @unmotivated-exhausted-author and @acatalystrising for having my back!

According to the plan, Grogu and Arfour were to join Atina and Fox aboard the Endeavor - a goodbye that Elora hoped wouldn't be forever, and hoped that they would all make it out of this mess alive. She knelt down in front of Grogu's pram and stroked his soft ear.

"Don't cause too much trouble, okay?" Arfour wheeled up next to the pram and bleeped sadly. "You take care of him. Keep him safe in case things go awry."

He let out an affirmative beeping and followed Fox on board Atina's ship, just like Grogu's pram.

Tears welled in Elora's eyes at the possibility that this could be the last time she would see them. She remained calm, face flat as she swallowed back her tears, turning swiftly on her heel and marching towards the Razor Crest where three Mandalorians in blue armor were waiting, Bo-Katan gazing impatiently toward the horizon.

“Elora!” she heard Ruusaan’s voice call. She approached her with a jetpack in her hands. “Give this to your partner, looks like he could need it.”

Elora took the jetpack and was surprised it was lighter than it looked. It was just as shiny as Din’s armor, clearly made from beskar or at least beskar alloy. It would suit Din nicely, she thought, thanking Ruusaan with a nod Din was going through his checklist once more, examining every weapon he owned with a meticulous eye.

"Looks like we're ready to go. Why didn't you say goodbye to the kid?"

Din looked up all of a sudden. "They already left?!"

"Uh yeah, I told you earlier that I was taking him to Atina."

He sighed and his fist hit the crate next to him. Elora had never seen him so tense, probably because there had never been so much at stake. A system of planets and the Mandalorian covert that had taken him in as a foundling. She could sense the conflict in him, and guilt, probably because he wouldn't be the one to save his covert.

“Is that… what I think it is?” he pointed at the jetpack she was holding.

Elora nodded. “A gift from Ruusaan. She said you might need it.”

He took it and appraised it, humming in approval. “This is of excellent craftsmanship. I’m impressed!” He put it next to his other weapons he had yet to examine.

She put a hand on his pauldron and brushed her thumb over the cool beskar.

"Atina is the best pilot I know. We are doing the right thing by not bringing Grogu and you're not letting anyone down. You sent your covert the best help you could get."

His hand covered hers on his pauldron and his other hand pulled her close only for their foreheads to meet.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum." he muttered under his breath, but Elora heard it nonetheless.

"If you're looking for a life day gift for me, a Mando'a dictionary would be great."

"Life day huh? I don't remember ever celebrating-"

"The other ships are already departing, we should get going - now!" Bo-Katan had come on board, followed by the other two Mandos who would later introduce themselves as Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. They were their only backup on Ristea and according to what Ruusaan had told Elora, their Clan was very old and well respected within the Mandalore system. That didn't keep Elora from being slightly annoyed at Bo-Katan's behavior, but she didn't let it show.

Elora had retreated to the cargo hold where she gathered her strength, meditating, strengthening her connection to the force in doing so. It felt strange not having Grogu nearby. They usually meditated together, and him not being around left an emptiness in the force surrounding her. She was so into her meditation that she didn't realize when the door to the cargo hold hissed open and Koska Reeves came in, watching Elora meditate for a moment before clearing her throat.

"Is that your way to prepare for battle?" she asked and took a seat on a large crate.

Elora opened her eyes and turned to face her. "In a way, yes. Helps me keep a clear head."

"You know I was wondering… How did a Jedi like you end up traveling with a Mandalorian?"

Elora shrugged. "When we met, we hated each other's guts, but eventually realized that we both benefit from working together and have been a team ever since… We've become close friends in the past few months."

Koska raised her brow. "Close huh? You know he will never remove his helmet in front of you, you will never know what he looks like under there and still you two are close?"

"Don't care what he looks like, he's a good man, that's all that matters to me. I was raised by Jawas, I'm used to having my face hidden too. After all these months of travels… it still makes me uncomfortable when someone stares at my face for longer than a few seconds."

"Why did you leave the Jawas?"

"I wanted to find blood relatives, instead I learnt that my mother wasn't killed but imprisoned on Nar Shaddaa. You don't happen to know a squad of Mandos crazy enough to help me get her out of there?"

Koska shook her head. "That prison on Nar Shaddaa is the size of a city. Not a chance. Mandalorians are vulnerable since we are low in numbers nowadays. You would need contacts in the underworld, an ally with a lot of influence. A Hutt or any powerful crime lord perhaps."

In that moment the familiar jolt of entering hyperspace went through the ship. A minute later Din, followed by Bo-Katan and Axe Woves, came into the cargo hold to go through their plan once more, using a holo of the Ristean palace's floor plan Ruusaan had just sent them.

“Risakka is the largest city of the planet, and to our advantage it’s built into the mountain range, with the royal palace built right on top. With so many starships we should not stick out. After watching the princess's holomessage, I’m pretty sure they won’t expect you to bring backup. I know Moff Gideon better than all of you, he’s an arrogant Imperial who overestimates himself, but be aware that he is smart, and unfortunately a good strategist. During the Great Purge he managed to destroy entire cities.” Bo-Katan said, not looking anyone in the eye, instead focusing on the holo. Elora cocked her head as she sensed regret and a lot of rage in her.

“Do you and Moffy have some kind of backstory? I mean, you fought this guy. This… is personal to you.” Elora assumed, and earned a firm look from Bo-Katan who stared her down. “I fought him face to face and lost something that belongs to me. I need it back, no matter the cost.” Her voice had taken on a calm, dangerous tone.

“Revenge can blind you. Please focus on the millions of lives at stake and not just your personal agenda. Whatever it was that you lost, the lives of Risteans and Mandalorians are at stake and worth more than anything in this conflict.”

“If I needed the advice of the human embodiment of a moral compass I would have asked for it.” she spoke in a tone that couldn’t have sounded more aloof.

“May I inquire as to what it was he has taken from you?” Din asked.

“An ancient weapon, one that’s a symbol of Mandalorian leadership.”

“Risk people’s lives for some symbol? Really?” Elora huffed.

“I don’t expect a Jawa to understand Mandalorian culture.” Bo-Katan rolled her eyes.

“Let’s focus on the plan at hand. I must admit I don’t like that we use you as bait.” Din said, putting an arm around Elora, earning a surprised look from Axe doing so.

“Using Elora as bait is the best option we've got.” Bo-Katan continued. “This man takes every occasion to stroke his ego. She’s the only thing he’s after. When he thinks he got what asked for and deems himself safe, it’s our turn to ambush him. We go in through the ventilation system. They are located right outside these walls, that’s why Skirata provided you with a jetpack. There’s no way to get in without causing a scene, except for this.”

“And I’ll just walk to the front gates and state my business?”

Din nods. “Unfortunately we don’t have much of a choice, if we want to save the royal family and their star system. The royal family will likely be held in the dungeons.”

“Gideon is not a man of his word.” Bo-Katan said. “He craves power way too much to let the royals live. We go through the ventilation shaft, free the royals and fight our way through to get to you, while you use the force to evade captivity. Then I will engage Gideon in battle and get back what belongs to me. Meanwhile the rest of you take care of the stormtroopers and return to the ship. We have enough explosives to blow up his light cruiser on our way off world.”

Elora nodded with a confident look in her eyes. “I bet none of them have fought a Jedi before. They won't know what hit them. I can do this!”

Elora had dealt with Imperials back on Nevarro. Her initial fear had turned into eagerness. This was her chance to prove that she was capable of doing good things with her abilities. Most of all she wanted to prove to herself that she was a good person, to finally make peace with the mistakes she had made.

The travel through hyperspace took longer than expected. While the Mandalorians, Din included, were all cleaning their weapons and talking about the plan, or in Bo-Katan's case about avenging Mandalore, Elora had retreated into Din's sleeping nook where she had reverted to drawing to process the entire situation.

As Din opened the door he cocked his head in surprise to find his girlfriend like this. Wrapped in a brown bantha fur blanket with his datapad in one hand and an object he thought he had lost in her other. She looked up from her work with a little smile on her face and Din could swear she could hear his heartbeat accelerating.

"What are you up to?" he asked and looked over her shoulder at her sketch of his old mythosaur necklace.

"I uh… found this and thought it looked somewhat mysterious. An eye catcher. Beskar, isn't it?"

Din nodded and took the shiny beskar mythosaur skull, rubbing his thumb over it. Memories bubbled to the surface of his mind as he looked at it. He remembered Lazlo Akiba, the Mandalorian who had saved his life in the war zone that his homeworld, Aq Vetina, had become. He felt guilty that he hadn't been able to return the favor in the Night of a Thousand Tears. Din felt like he had let down the man this necklace had once belonged to. Just like his parents' death, he would always remember the moment when the Armorer had told him that his buir had become one with the Manda and had given him his father's necklace.

"If you fight as good as you draw, I don't need to worry about you."

"Thank you for trusting my abilities."

Din smiled under his helmet and regarded the mythosaur pendant once more before putting it around her neck - the shiny object visible for everyone to see.

"In case another young clone thinks he has a shot." The smirk was audible in his voice and Elora chuckled.

"Just wait til we're back from this mission and have some alone time. I intend to show you how thankful I am." she spoke in a slightly seductive tone. Din's mind wandered straight into the gutter and he had to blink away the filthy mental images in front of his inner eye.

I should really think about getting myself a codpiece…

"Actually I'm here to tell you that we'll be dropping out of hyperspace in thirty minutes. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"The royal family being in danger is partially my fault. I have to correct my past mistake."

Elora stood up to put on her signature gray Jawa cloak. Din watched her intently and sighed. "I wouldn't blame you if you would change your mind."

"I know, Din. But this is something I gotta do."

She put a reassuring hand on his pauldron before she went to join the others, leaving Din speechless.

I would lay down my life for her.

~*~

Arfour's dome had become Grogu's new favorite spot instead of his pram which hovered in the corner, waiting to be used again. He had a better view from there over the spacious cockpit and watched curiously how Atina talked to Ruusaan on the comms while she watched the streaks of hyperspace which resembled a tunnel of light.

He missed Din and Elora a great deal, and to distract himself from the grief of missing them, he slid down Arfour's body and waddled through the cockpit without the Pantoran noticing since she was listening intently to another briefing about several battle strategies. An asteroid near Nevarro would be the perfect spot to gather behind, to wait for the moment to strike. She went over several of those strategies with Ruusaan and the fleet she was leading. Many good suggestions started coming in. They would need one that wouldn't cause any or as few civilian deaths as possible. Since Atina had never been to Nevarro, she had no idea what exactly to expect. All she knew about it was that it was a bounty hunter infested skughole made from volcanic rock.

Grogu descended the ladder, and Arfour, taking his new responsibility as a temporary babysitter seriously, followed him, bleeping in slight annoyance at Grogu's antics. He had been told to stay put more than once now, but sitting in one spot quickly became boring and the need to discover stronger.

"Now now what are you doing down here?" Fox sighed as he discovered the infant looking at him with a curious spark in his eyes. He interrupted his work on the wiring and picked Grogu up.

"Patoo." the child babbled, pointing at the wiring that needed fixing.

"You're too young to help me with that, little one. Don't want you to get electrocuted." He carried him to one of the broad viewports on the backside of the ship. The blue and white streaks of hyperspace lit up the room. Grogu's eyes widened as he saw the entire squadron of eight Mandalorian Kom'rk starfighters following Atina.

"See, they are all following us to help your parents." Fox said and Grogu raised his ears that symbolized happiness. The first thing he thought when he saw the squadron following them was that Elora probably would have lots of fun tinkering on one of those. He had watched her fix the Crest more often than not and knew how much she enjoyed the handiwork.

They remained in front of the viewport for several minutes until Arfour nudged Fox's leg to notify him that they would soon drop out of hyperspace and that he should strap Grogu in, in case leaving hyperspace got a little bumpy.

Holding a baby like that made Fox miss the days he spent with his wife and baby in her apartment on Coruscant. It caused memories to resurface that he believed he had forgotten, so many memories, yet not enough. Not being able to watch his daughter grow up to the woman he had met half a year ago still weighed heavy on his mind and soul.

Atina descended from the cockpit and put her hands on her hips. "You sneaky little bugger, that's the third time you disappear without me noticing. Wow, I really suck as a babysitter, aren't I?"

Fox chuckled. "That's quite alright, he didn't cause any trouble."

Atina rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That's not the point. Him not listening could get him into trouble, thinking about the people we, Elora, and Din have to deal with on our travels. I just want that little womp rat to be safe, is all."

"I know you care, ad'ika." Fox smiled and handed Grogu over to Atina.

"Anyway, in case that astromech hasn't notified you, we're dropping out of hyperspace in approximately ten minutes."

"I'm always ready to kick some Imps in the shebs."

Fox put Grogu in his safe pram, a few minutes later the ship dropped out of hyperspace with a jolt, so did the squadron and Atina steered the Endeavor straight behind the asteroid, landing on its surface, the squadron followed her example. Now all they had to do was wait for word from Din and Elora that the moment to strike had come. The comm channels were quiet and Grogu felt the building tension in the force that always lingered when a battle was about to begin.

~*~

Ristea was a large farming planet that was mostly covered by fields, including many acres of land where countless large greenhouses secured food supply during the colder season where all kinds of food were grown. Those rural parts of the planet were sparsely inhabited, contrary to the planet's capital Risakka, which was located at a majestic snow covered mountain range and was actually built into the mountain itself. This architecture was unique in every way with its houses built from the mountain and the colorful window shutters of which each house shared individual colors and patterns, and sometimes family crests. The palace was basically this planet's crown. That's what it looked like from afar, the way this blue crystalline palace was built on top of the highest mountain, with the lower levels built into the mountain as well. The world's population was mostly human, especially in Risakka, due to the many years of oppression through the Empire. After the Empire fell, Ristea had finally been free, but now a new threat was looming over the planet, one that had to be taken care of.

Din was nervous. Like he mentioned, he didn't like the idea of Elora turning herself in. By the looks of it her anxiety from the day before had vanished. Her calm and confident demeanor impressed him. As the Razor Crest dropped out of hyperspace a large green planet came into view with a few mountain ranges here and there.

Din had typed in the coordinates of a forest at the outskirts of the planet's capital.

With ease he landed at a forest clearing and descended from the cockpit. Bo-Katan and her people had already left the Razor Crest, waiting outside in the cool morning air. Elora was binding her hair back into a ponytail as Din came into the galley to check on her.

"Close your eyes." he said softly.

Elora gave him a puzzled look but complied, only to hear a mechanic hiss from his helmet and then feel his lips pressing on hers, a warm feeling washing over her. What started as a gentle kiss turned more intense once she opened her lips to let his tongue slip inside. Those soft and warm lips and the feeling of his mustache felt too good to be true. One hand carded through her hair, the other rested on her hip as Din poured his feelings for her into this kiss. The intimate moment was over way too soon for their liking, but they had to go and save more than one planet.

Elora's initial thought seeing Din with a jetpack was how perfectly it suited the rest of his armor and how handsome it made him look, and part of her wondered how she was supposed to keep up with him with that. She had no jetpack, but maybe, just maybe she could build something from scrap that would let her fly alongside him. Unfortunately this was not the right moment to ponder over it. The Mandalorians ignited their jetpacks and flew in the direction of the palace that was several miles away. Din stayed behind and opened his arms.

"Let me carry you to Risakka. It would take too long on foot."

"What if the Imps see you?" Elora asked.

"Not if I fly low enough."

She hesitated a moment before moving into his embrace. The next second her feet were no longer at the ground. By the time they were out of the winter forest, Din's flying had become a little safer. Flying was something he had to get used again since it had been a long time since he had last done it, mentioning that the last time he had used a jetpack was at the Rising Phoenix, a training program of the fighting corps he had been raised in. Elora was glad she had tied her hair back. The cool breeze would have messed it up otherwise.

As the mountain range came into sight, Din let her down behind a building with blue and green window shutters and colorful empty plant pots.

"Good luck, cyare. And don't you dare do something reckless that's not part of the plan."

Elora rolled her eyes at how worried he sounded.

"I'll be fine, Din. Don't let your worry for me cloud your judgment. Stick to the plan."

Din nodded and asked himself if he could ever stop worrying about her. She meant the world to him. He left as quickly as he had landed, because he knew if he had stayed any longer he would have kissed her again and this time he wouldn't have let her go to do her part.

Din flew low and carefully not to get discovered as he tracked Bo-Katan to a ventilation shaft at the blue crystalline outer wall of the palace that, for the most part, was overgrown by a leafy plant and was therefore easily overlooked.

"Took you a while, Djarin." the red haired Mandalorian said.

"I had to take Elora closer to the city."

"Jedi can run as fast as the wind, did you know that?"

"Sounds like you have met Jedi before."

Bo-Katan sighed in slight annoyance. "I did, and most of the time not on good terms. The way she looks at you didn't escape my notice. Let me give you a word of advice. Mandalorians and Jedi may make a good team, but a romantic relationship holds no future."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Jedi are allowed to love but not to form attachments. My…sister had to experience that the hard way."

"No, Elora is different. She's not living after some Jedi code, only the code of the Jawas that was instilled in her since she was a little kid. She values her family way too much. She tells me stories of her clan more often than not, she has a strong attachment to them."

"What can I say except that I hope you're right."

"Guys? Our comms are down. They're disrupting our signal." Axe noted.

"Great how are we gonna notify Chuchi now?" Koska asked.

"She's been in contact with us ten minutes ago. When she realizes our signal gets disrupted, she will prepare to attack." Bo-Katan assured them.

Din agreed. "She's smart, she'll figure it out."

"Comms being down means they know we're nearby or it's just a precaution. Let's get moving." Axe used his flamethrower to burn away the greenery and climbed in first, followed by Koska, Bo-Katan, and then Din.

Elora noticed the white duraplast stormtrooper armor from afar. She approached three troopers with raised hands as they pointed their blasters at her.

"I'm holding up my part of the deal." she spoke with an audible fearlessness in her voice. They searched her for weapons, took her lightsaber and put shackles on her that weren't even made of force repellent material. She knew it wouldn't do much once she unleashed her abilities.

"We captured the Jedi. Notify Moff Gideon immediately!" one trooper spoke to his com-link.

The palace looked so cold from the outside, yet it had a comfortable room temperature behind its huge shiny cerulean gates.

They led her through the entrance hall with crystalline stairs that had yellow carpet on them. The enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling was a pretty eye catcher. Elora quickly noticed that the usual palace personnel were nowhere to be seen. No servants, no maids, no Ristean security, only stormtroopers who infested the palace like parasites.

As soon as they entered a hallway with no other stormtroopers in sight, Elora felt this was the right time to wreak havoc. She came to a halt.

"Move or we blast your head off!" one trooper threatened.

"Is that the correct way to treat a lady?" Elora tutted and used a force wave to knock them off her feet and focused on letting the force unlock her shackles. This was way too easy. The troopers got back up, but before they could shoot, she force pushed them against the walls, setting free her raw force abilities. These people wanted to harm her, and wanted to harm Grogu. This thought alone caused blood to drop from between the duraplast armor plates which cracked along with the troopers' bones. They screamed in pain for a moment and a deathly silence fell over the hallway as their lifeless bodies landed in one large puddle of their blood.

Elora took a deep breath, took her lightsaber from the dead trooper's belt and sprinted down the corridor around the next corner where she sensed more of them were. She ignited her lightsaber and deflected each blaster bolt. Screaming and blood pooling on the crystalline floor followed, with the occasional torn off limb here and there, she left a path or gruesome carnage behind.

The next squadron of troopers shot stun days at her and Elora assumed that the orders had changed. She was wanted alive. The more trooper's died a painful death by her hand, the more nervous she could sense the remaining trooper's became until they were running for their lives. Elora wondered if Din and the other Mandalorians had infiltrated the prison yet. She tried to comm them but as it turned out their signal was getting disrupted. Just as she was thinking about how to fix that issue, ray shields activated at the doors.

"Nice try, Moffy. You need to do better than that." she muttered and slashed her lightsaber through the doorframe and the mechanism holding up the ray shield, when all of a sudden stun rays shot from the wall on both sides. A security mechanism she wasn't familiar with that made her surroundings blurr for a moment before she fell and faded out of consciousness.

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a/n: THE CLIFFHANGER! I'm so sorry, I just had to! Of course Elora passing out is not part of their plan, but when did any of Dinlora's plans ever work without problems? Excited for more? I'm already working on the next chapter!

Thank you guys so much for reading this story!

#gehat'ik be aliit #din djarin x oc #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #star wars fanfiction

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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: Desperately Seeking Mandos

Link to Chpt. 7, Link to Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (F and M receiving), explicit description of sex (still romantic smut though), canonical violence

Word count: ~11K

Author’s Note: This chapter took a bit longer than I originally planned, but my semester has reached its busiest time and it’s harder to carve out as much time as I’d like to write. So, thank you for being patient with me. Also, I would like to send a special thank you to @imthemandalornow for being an excellent source of inspiration -- you’re the best, darling. As always, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

You sit in the passenger seat of the Razor Crest as you stare out at the blue glow of hyperspace, normally you find it pretty and rather peaceful, but today you’re sitting tense and fraught with worry. Din monitors the scanners regularly and it appears as if you have avoided detection by any Imperial vessels. Still, the feeling of unease stays with you. Din talks to you about some possible planets you could try to avoid detection, but neither of you seem very sure about what your next move should be. You’re distracted from having to decide when the comm dings with an incoming transmission.

“Princess and Mando, are you there? It’s Mistress Eira.” Her image comes in over the holo and she looks distressed.

“We’re here, Eira,” Din replies. You come over to stand close to him so you can see the holo better.

“I’m so glad to hear your voice, Mando, I was so worried for you both, something terrible has happened here,” she tells you in a serious voice. “There were ex-Imperial officers here; they killed Mistress Sigrid.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, Eira,” you tell her with a heavy heart, “Was anyone else hurt?”

“No, but, honestly you shouldn’t shed any tears over Sigrid,” Eira sounds angry now, “She had some type of deal with them, apparently she was helping them find you. I’m calling to warn you.” You gasp at this news, you didn’t expect such treachery from Sigrid.

“Eira, do you know who any of the Imperials were?” You feel like you already know what her answer will be.

“Yes, the man that killed Sigrid is a Commander Kerrick Hoven, we have security footage of their interaction and then the shooting,” Eira confirms your worst fear, “I have to tell you, Princess, the man seems obsessed with you, the footage of him is unsettling, he was… talking to you, well, an image of you.”

“I’m sorry, Eira, I had no idea he was looking for me, I haven’t seen him in years and I never would have thought that I was putting anyone in danger,” Ok, technically you did know there were Imps after Din and the baby, but not you too. But who could have predicted that they’d find you on Angel One of all places?

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, “We’ve discovered that Sigrid has been in contact with the Empire for years making many underhanded backdoor deals.” Eira pauses for a moment and then says, “Listen, I’m going to send you the security footage, I think you should see what I mean about this man, you need to know what he’s like.”

“Alright, thank you, Eira, any information we can get about him will be helpful,” you say.

“Do you have any information about their ship?” Din asks Eira.

“Oh yes, I’ll send all that we have to you now,” she replies.

“Eira, thank you for helping us, you’re a true friend,” you tell her before she ends the holo.

A few minutes later, the files she promised come through. Din reviews the information for Kerrick’s light cruiser and confirms that it was the one the scanners detected as you were leaving Angel One. After he’s stored all the pertinent details about the ship, you know it’s time to see the second file.

As the holovid begins to play, you watch as Kerrick goes from an icy calm officer, to an angry bully, and then to a disturbing ex-lover. You clutch Din’s hand as you watch and you cringe in horror, as it continually gets worse. When Kerrick finishes his creepy soliloquy to your image, you feel ill.

“Oh, cyar’ika, come here,” Din stands and pulls you into his arms, “Don’t cry, my love, you’re safe here with me.”

You didn’t even realize there were tears streaming down your cheeks until he says that. You let your arms come around him tightly and you try to even out your breathing. Din rubs your back and murmurs soothing words to you and slowly you feel yourself calm down. With your face still pressed against him, you say,

“I had no idea Kerrick still thought about me, let alone that his feelings for me have become so twisted, ugh and he still calls me his ‘doll’, I always hated that, even when we were a couple… I can’t believe we ever were,” your voice shows your disgust.

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep him from you,” Din pledges to you.

“I know that you will, Din,” you murmur against his chest. You hear a sad little coo and look over to the child who is looking back at you with teary eyes.

“Oh sweetie,” you say, and you go over to him, pick him up, and hold him tight to your chest, “I’ll be alright,” you look back to Din, “We’re all going to be alright,” you promise.

“Maybe you should take him downstairs and try to get some more rest?” Din suggests his voice full of concern, “I’ll reach out to my contacts and work on finding us our next destination.”

You’re feeling exhausted and so you pull Din into a hug with you and the little one, before heading down the ladder and crawling into your bed. You don’t bother to put the child in his hammock and instead let him cuddle up next to you. You rub his back as you watch his tiny face and see as he slowly drifts off to sleep. Eventually your own eyes start to feel heavy and you fall asleep too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frustrated, Din ends another holocall without much to show for it. He’s been at this for almost two hours now and he still has no idea where to go, or what the best course of action will be. He knows he needs to be more patient, he’s made the calls for assistance and now he has to see what comes from them. Still though, the churning in his gut keeps him far from patience and instead brings him doubt and worry. It doesn’t help that he can still hear Kerrick’s disgusting words in his ear, calling you his ‘doll’ and promising to rid you of the ‘vile Mandalorian’. He’d never wanted to shoot someone through a holopad before, but as he watched that holovid his fingers were itching to pull out his blaster. When you first told him about Kerrick, Din had thought about tracking the man down, thinking maybe he’d help you get a little revenge on the man who broke your heart and betrayed you. Later, he realized that was just a silly fantasy to make himself feel important to you, but once Din understood how much you’d come to care for him, he had stopped thinking about your ex-lover altogether.

Din sighs, rolling his neck and stretching the muscles there. He’s wishing he could go down and join you in some sleep for a few hours, when the holo dings.

“Din Djarin, I hope you are well,” he hears as the Armorer’s image glimmers into view, “Word has reached me that you are being pursued once again by Imperial forces.”

“Yes, that is correct, I am seeking shelter for a few days to formulate a plan,” Din replies.

“The Covert has regrouped and joined with another,” the Armorer tells him, “You will join us here and we will assist you in your strategy.”

“I- I do not wish to endanger the Covert, I should not come to you,” Din responds, his tone regretful as he remembers all that the Covert has sacrificed already on his behalf.

“By its very nature the Covert is always in danger, it is a fact that we accept,” she states calmly, “We are gar vode, your brethren, and we welcome you in your time of need. We are always here for you. This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Din responds and he enters the coordinates she gives him into the nav. As he does this, he tells her about you and the latest trouble that has managed to find you both. Din feels comforted by the Armorer’s genuine interest in you as he tells the story, and he greatly appreciates her willingness to help you.

Feeling a sense of relief Din after his conversation with the Armorer ends, he switches on the autopilot and heads downstairs. When he sees you and the child sleeping so soundly, Din feels a sense of contentment wash over him. As he snuggles up next to you in the bed, he knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe and that it will be worth it no matter the cost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Din explains that you’re heading to his Covert, you feel reassured at first because you know how formidable your Mandalorian is and you can’t think of safer place to be than surrounded by a whole group of them. Nonetheless, it dawns on you that this is Din’s family that you’ll be meeting and you find yourself wishing that you were getting to meet them under better circumstances. You also start to feel a tad nervous about making a good first impression.

The Covert is currently located on Dol’har Hyde, a planet almost entirely covered in dense forests. When you land in a clearing that is just large enough for the Razor Crest, you wonder if the coordinates were correct because you can’t see any type of settlement or structures of any kind. You follow Din down a narrow forest path listening to the birds singing and enjoying the natural beauty of the place. It’s soothing and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the planet was uninhabited. The further you go down the path, the thicker the forest becomes and it seems as if you are walking in twilight as the multitude of leaves above you block out more and more of the sun’s rays. Finally, the path appears to end and you see the opening of a cave.

“This is it,” Din says, and you look up to see a small carving of a mythosaur in the stone entrance. You get no more than five steps into the dark cavern when two Mandalorians appear out of nowhere asking you to identify yourselves with blasters raised. Different from Din, their armor is decorated with paint, one in orange and the other in blue. Once they recognize Din, they lower their weapons and greet you.

“Welcome home, Djarin,” the Mando in blue says as he thumps Din’s pauldron in greeting, “Still getting into trouble I see.”

“Vizsla, still a pain in the ass I see,” Din replies curtly.

“I’m afraid the trouble is my fault,” you speak up, not wanting Din to take the blame for your past catching up to you.

“Well hello,” Blue Mando welcomes you with a pleasant tone, “The Armorer mentioned Djarin was bringing someone with him, who knew you’d be so pretty.”

His compliment surprises you, and you stutter out, “O-Oh, thank you.”

Din makes a grunting sound as he places his hand on your lower back and steers you past the two guards, “We’re going to see the Armorer now,” he informs them.

“I’ll take you to see her,” Orange Mando offers.

“Thank you,” Din responds.

“I guess I’ll see you later then, pretty one, you too, Djarin,” the Blue Mando chuckles as you walk deeper into the cave.

As your eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting of the cave’s passageway you can see that there are drawings on the walls, many featuring Mandalorian helmets. They look like they could be children’s sketches given the simplicity and the height of most of them. It makes you smile, knowing that you’ll be somewhere with families, maybe your own little one will be able to make a few friends while you’re here. Eventually, you can hear the sounds of other people and when the passage opens up to a large room in the cave you see a comforting and homey site.

This part of the cavern has a small pool in the middle and it creates a beautiful soft glow as the water reflects back the artificial lights that have been arranged throughout the space. Around the room, there are small groups of people chatting with each other, playing sabacc, helping children with schoolwork, polishing armor, and performing all sorts of small domestic tasks. It makes you smile to yourself. Everyone here wears helmets, including the children, and all of the adults wear armor too. You notice a few helmets turning towards you as you move past the groups and you wonder if you must seem odd to them with your face uncovered.

There is a second passageway on the other side of the room and you follow Orange Mando down this next path. As you walk, you can feel a hot wind run through the tunnel and you hear a metallic clanking in an almost rhythmic pattern. The noise grows louder and soon you reach a warm room where the Armorer is working. You are mesmerized by her striking golden helmet and the graceful but powerful movements she makes as she forges a piece of beskar armor. When she sees Din, the child, and you, she pauses in her work and nods in your direction. Din motions for you to sit on a stone bench and the three of you sit patiently as she finishes her work.

“I see your foundling is doing well,” the Armorer comments, “And this is the caregiver.” She looks over at you and you offer her a smile and a nod. She rests her tools on her workbench and comes over to you. Din stands and you mirror his movement. The Armorer offers you her hand and welcomes you to the Covert.

“Din Djarin tells me that you are a very special woman, it is clear you have been a positive influence in his life.” The Armorer speaks in such a deliberate way that you feel honored to hear such praise from her.

“Thank you, I’ve tried to do my best to help him and we’ve grown very close, but I feel such regret that it’s my fault we’re in trouble now,” you admit to her and you know your face shows the guilt you’re feeling.

“It isn’t your fault,” Din corrects you, “You have no control over Kerrick’s actions.”

“Din is correct,” the Armorer affirms his statement, “You are not responsible for the actions of an evil man who seeks to control you. We will do all that we can to assist you. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” Din repeats.

“Thank you, I am beyond grateful for your help, and for making me welcome with your tribe,” you tell her.

“You are welcome,” she responds, “I must ask now though to speak to Din alone with the other members of our tribe, if you do not mind.”

“Of course.”

You hear footsteps behind you and you see that several other Mandalorians have joined you. Several of them give you a nod in greeting in your direction and a woman with purple armor steps forward.

“I can take you and the child to the place where you’ll be staying while you’re here,” she offers. You turn to follow her, but before you can, Din reaches out to give your hand a squeeze and says, “I’ll find you later, cyar’ika.”

Din watches you leave and then turns back to the Armorer, feeling a little nervous now that he is alone with her and those who remain in their tribe. His own feelings of guilt rise within him as he looks around the room and realizes how few their numbers have become.

In a low voice full of shame and remorse he says, “I am sorry for Nevarro. I can never thank you enough for helping me and the child, but I--”

“Have nothing to apologize for,” Paz interrupts him in a gravelly voice laden with emotion. Din turns his head toward him in surprise.

“We were honored to help you and we would make the same choice again,” a female member of the tribe speaks up.

“It was our duty and our privilege to fight alongside of you in Nevarro,” another tribe member says.

“You are ner vod, an important member of our tribe and we are here for you,” yet another person tells him.

One by one each tribe member speaks up to reassure Din of his place in the tribe and to express that none of them hold him responsible for the attack on the Covert in Nevarro. His eyes fill with tears and he can feel them slowly gliding down his face in response to their acceptance and love for him. He’s felt so disconnected from the tribe since being forced to flee but being with them here now, and hearing their words of support makes him feel like part of a family again. It is so much more than he could have asked for and it means everything to him.

“Th-thank you,” Din chokes out when the last person has spoken, he wants to say more but his emotions are causing a tightness in his throat and it’s all he can get out now.

“Now, let us discuss the threat against your companion,” the Armorer says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Purple Mando leads you to a small room with modest furnishings where you are able to stow your bag of belongings. She asks if you want to rest, but you tell her that you’d rather spend time with the others if that’s alright.

“I know that little one would love a chance to run around a bit too and maybe play with some other children, if he can,” you suggest.

“That sounds like a nice idea, and you can meet some of my tribe members.” Her voice has a pleasant tone and her friendly demeanor puts you at ease.

When you’re back in the larger cavern that seems to serve as the common room for the Covert, she introduces you to a group of her friends.

“Look at your little foundling, what a cutie he is,” one of the women coos at the kiddo.

“He’s a sweetie,” another one says, “He’s welcome to go play with the other children, here, I’ll introduce him to my two boys.”

“Thank you,” you reply and you put the child down so he can toddle over to the other little children who are playing with blocks. “Be sure to share, buddy,” you call after him.

“Oh, is he in the ‘mine’ phase?” Purple Mando asks you.

“It’s hard to tell really, it’s more that he doesn’t have much time to spend with other children so he’s used to all the toys being his,” you explain.

“Ah, I see, well I’m sure he’ll be just fine,” she says in a reassuring manner.

“So, will you tell me a little about your tribe? I’ve only ever met the one Mandalorian.” You’re really curious to know more about their way of life.

“Sure, we’re happy to tell you anything you want to know.” Her friends make positive sounds and nod their heads in agreement. “But you also have to be sure to tell us all about you and your Mandalorian,” she says with a small chuckle.

You agree with a smile, and the women proceed to tell you about the tribe. They’ve been here in this Covert for quite some time now. On the other side of the cavern system there is a settlement where they can go for various necessities. Unlike Nevarro, there is less threat here so they are able to leave the Covert in small groups. The adults in the tribe have one of four principle jobs. The protectors assist with guarding the Covert and training the others in fighting techniques. The hunters are responsible for bringing in fresh meat from the surrounding forest. The crafters make weapons, vibroblades and other knives in particular, that they sell to help earn income for the tribe. Finally, the caregivers are responsible for the domestic tasks including maintaining a large garden to grow food for the tribe. There are also a few members who have special jobs like the tribe’s two healers, the Armorer, and the beroya, a bounty hunter, like Din.

“Although we hear your beroya is more skilled than ours,” one of the women says, hinting a little at the subject of Din.

“Well, he isn’t one to brag, but he always seems to be successful in catching his quarry, at least as far as I’ve seen,” you explain but you can’t keep a note of pride out of your voice.

“His tribe has only been with us for a few months, but we have heard stories about him,” Purple Mando tells you, “And they were very pleased to hear that you were coming to stay with him for a bit.”

“Really?” This surprises you because you wouldn’t have believe that Din’s tribe would give too much thought to you seeing as they’ve never met you.

“Mmhmm, yes, apparently he’s never been serious about a woman before, so they’re all wondering if he’s finally ready to settle down,” she laughs lightly as she says this and tips her helmet in your direction.

“Oh I- I don’t know about that,” you stumble over your words a bit, feeling flustered at the implication, “He um hasn’t said… I mean, I wouldn’t assume anything… I-”

“Don’t let her tease you,” another woman pipes up, “She’s a hopeless matchmaker.”

“Oh c’mon, what can I say, I just adore love and a riduurok,” Purple Mando giggles.

“What’s a riduurok?” you ask.

“A marriage ceremony,” she tells you, “When two people become each other’s riduur, or spouse.”

“Well, I appreciate learning new words in Mando’a,” you say with a chuckle, “But I don’t think there’s going to be a riduurok any time soon, unless one of you are getting married this week?”

The women laugh with you and you feel a contentment that you haven’t felt in days, it feels like you can let your guard down with them. As much as you enjoy spending time with Din, you’ve missed having friends. The afternoon passes quickly as the women fill you in on the gossip in the tribe and you watch the child playing happily with the other kids.

When Din returns to your side with several members of his tribe, he introduces you to many of them although all without names as per their tradition so you continue to refer to them in your mind by the colors of their armor. Even though some of the colors are repeated, the patterns of the paint vary sufficiently that you can easily tell everyone apart.

One woman with pink armor seems very chatty and interested in you. She asks you all about your work with languages.

“Oh, how did you know about that?” you ask surprised.

“Din told us of course,” she says pleasantly, “He’s very sweet on you and talked at length about your many accomplishments while we were catching up.” As she comments on Din’s affectionate side, she nudges him slightly with her elbow and it’s clear she’s teasing him. It’s cute and it reminds you of the way you used to tease your brother about girls.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you whisper conspiratorially to her, “I’m sweet on him too.” You hear Din let out a chuckle at that and he rests his hand on your knee. He’s relaxed here in a way you’ve not seen before and it’s nice.

“Oh, but yes, languages have always intrigued me, I love figuring out how they work and learning about new ones,” you explain, “I’ve even learned several words in Mando’a today.”

“Which ones?” Pink is curious to know.

“Well, beroya, talking about Din, of course,” you say with a smile, “And then a few related to families, ad’ika, aliit, and buir, oh and then riduur and riduurok too.” You’re just happy you remembered all the new words.

“Hmm, riduur and riduurok, talking more about Din, I suppose?” she giggles.

“Oh! No! I- I didn’t mean in reference to him, it- it just came up…” you trail off embarrassed to have implied such a thing. You’re thankful that Din is deep in conversation with one of the other men and doesn’t appear to have heard that.

“Don’t worry, I’m only playing,” Pink reassures you, “I’m just so happy with my own riduur. It’s only been eight months and I’m already expecting.” She tells you this excitedly and places a hand on her lower abdomen tenderly where you can see a small baby bump.

“Congratulations!” you beam at her with delight, “That’s so exciting.” You ponder her news for a moment and then ask, “What’s it like? Being pregnant, I mean? I’ve always been curious.”

“Well, at first I just felt really tired and I could throw up at a moment’s notice,” she explains, “But now, I’m further along and I just feel really happy and excited. Plus my riduur is just so proud and happy too.” She points to a man in black armor. Then she leans in closer to you and drops her voice low as she whispers, “And honestly, the sex has never been better. You’d think he was trying to get me pregnant twice.”

You laugh merrily along with her, not realizing that you’re drawing Din’s attention back to you when you pipe up to say, “I’ve always fantasized about being pregnant, it seems like such a special time, knowing that a new life is growing within you.” Your face takes on a dreamy, wistful look as you say this to her. But then thinking about your reality, you say, “I guess it’s just a far-off wish, but it’s fun to dream about it.”

Din’s helmet snaps to look directly at you when you say this, and, as it turns out, so do several other curious helmets. Something deep inside Din’s chest pulses with a desire to make your wish come true. Suddenly he can see what you would look like round and swollen with his child, the beautiful glow you would have, the tender way you would look at him when he’d caress your belly, and so much more. He wants to say something, anything to you, but he can’t think of the right words, especially not in front of so many people. Happy giggles from you and your new friend distract him from these thoughts.

Pink giggles at your statement and then leans in to stage whisper, “You should be careful saying that around a bunch of Mandalorians, one of them might take you up on it and put a baby in you tonight.”

Her statement is rather blunt, but it just makes you laugh along with her. After the stress you’ve been under all day, you’re enjoying making a new friend and just giggling along with her. As nervous as you were about meeting Din’s tribe, you are so thankful to be here now.

“So Djarin, your woman wants a baby,” Paz ribs Din, “You know if you’re not up to the task, I’d be more than happy to oblige her.”

“Shut up, di’kut,” Din mutters at him.

“Vizsla has a point; she is a beauty, I’m surprised you’re not trying harder,” another guy sitting next to him gets in on the teasing.

“Not you too,” Din replies and gives the guy a shove.

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves, get to know her,” Paz says cheekily, then walks over closer to where you’re seated. “Hey, mesh’la, how are you doing this evening?” he nods his helmet in your direction.

“I’m pretty sure he means you,” Pink snickers.

Not wanting to be impolite, you smile kindly as you answer, “I’m having a nice time; everyone has been so welcoming.”

“That’s good; we all want you to feel welcome.” He props his knee up on a rock formation and then leans his arm down on it so he can be closer to where you are. “Maybe later you’d like a nice tour of the caverns? I know some really nice spots.”

Din stands up at this and positions himself between you and Blue Mando, “You want to ask her that again, Vizsla?”

“I dunno, maybe she’d rather see some Mandalorian sparring? Let her see how a real man fights,” Paz jeers at Din.

“Why not? I’m sure she’d enjoy watching me kick your ass.” Din taunts back.

“Whoa, guys, there’s no need for this,” you try to interrupt, but the air is thick with tension and testosterone. This seems to be an older dispute, and you’re just a convenient spark to reignite the flames of the argument. You’re worried that they might actually start fighting when the child comes to your rescue.

The little guy toddles over carrying a big piece of paper in his claws. He wants to show Din and you a picture that he’s drawn.

“Hi, buddy!” You purposely step between Din and Blue Mando to reach down and pick him up. “What do you have here?”

It’s a drawing of a stick figure family with flowers and what looks to be frogs surrounding them. One of the figures has a helmet-shaped head, another has hair that looks a lot like yours, and the third little figure has big green ears, so it’s clear that he’s drawn his own little family of Din, you, and himself.

“This is so good, buddy,” Din tells him and then he leans over to pat the kid on the head.

“You did so great, kiddo!” You say enthusiastically, feeling a bit relieved too. You lean in and kiss the child on the forehead, and then whisper, “Good job calming down your papa too.” He coos at you in his happy way and you could swear he understands everything you say to him.

Just then, a soft gonging sound rings out across the cave. You watch as the other children scramble back towards their parents and little groups begin to funnel out of the room.

“What’s happening?” you ask Pink.

“It’s time for the evening meal. The food is prepared collectively, and each family goes to collect their portion before heading to their private quarters to eat. Follow me and we’ll get you three all set up.”

You follow her and the rest of the Mandalorians towards another large room with a buffet of food. It all smells delicious and you didn’t realize how hungry you’d become. The child starts wiggling in anticipation when he sees the feast before him. He starts making little whiny sounds and grabby hands towards the dishes.

“It’s ok, sweetie,” you tell him, “We’ll get our food very soon, I promise.”

Din moves forward to begin collecting your dinner and he quickly scoops up a bun that had started to mysteriously float upward and hands it to the child so he won’t get too fussy. “Don’t get too impatient, kiddo,” he says gently reproaching the child.

You retreat to your appointed room with your meal and once you make sure the child can’t peek over at Din, you’re able to enjoy the food. For a while, you simply eat in a comfortable silence. There’s been so much going on today, it’s nice to be here where it’s more tranquil and you have a moment to yourselves that doesn’t feel as stressful as early in the day.

“I’ve really enjoyed meeting everyone here, they’re so caring and nice,” you tell Din, “Pink and Purple did a great job of introducing me to lots of people and teaching me about the Covert.”

“Pink and Purple?” He asks, confused.

“Oh, well, I don’t know anyone’s names so I’ve just been referring to them by the color of their armor in my head, Pink, Purple, Orange, Blue, you know?”

Din laughs at this and says, “You’re so adorable, cyar’ika.”

“Thanks, darling,” you say laughing a little with him, it is rather funny, “Seriously, I’ve felt so safe and at home here, even though it’s only been a few hours.”

“It makes me happy to hear you say that, cyar’ika,” he responds, “I hope you don’t mind but I told my tribe a lot about you, I wanted them to know how hard you’ve worked to take care of the child and keep him safe.”

You feel a fluttery sensation in your chest at his words, “I’m honored that you wanted to tell them about me.”

“Of course I wanted to,” Din says, “You’re very important to me.”

“You’re important to me too, Din,” you admit softly, trying not to get too choked up as you share your feelings with him. You hear him come closer to you and then he’s placing his arms around you, hugging you to his chest. His helmet is still off and you can feel him nuzzle his face into your neck and hair.

You sit like that for a while, just enjoying the closeness; you’re holding the child in your arms and Din is holding you in his. After a bit, you start to rock the child a little and hum a little song to him. He’s had a long day after running around with the other children and now that his belly is full, you can see he’s getting drowsy. As his big eyes start to blink longer and longer, you get up to put him in his little pod for the night. When you close it, you can feel Din has followed you and is standing right behind you.

“I have something for you,” he says, his voice a little gruff, but modulated so you know he’s wearing the helmet again. You turn and face him and you see he’s holding out a small leather pouch for you to take.

You smile broadly at him, “A gift for me?”

“Yes,” he confirms.

You untie the strings of the pouch and reach inside to pull out a necklace with a heart pendant made of beskar. It glimmers in the light and you can see there is a mythosaur skull imprinted on the heart. You hold it up and smile, touched by the gesture.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Din,” you breathe out in delight, “Thank you so much. Will you help me put it on?”

You hand him the necklace and then turn away so he can clasp it at the nape of your neck. He tries to do it first with his gloves on, but then you hear him mutter, “Kriffing gloves,” followed by some shuffling before you feel his bare fingers against your skin as he finally secures the clasp for you.

“How does it look?” You ask him.

“Beautiful, just like you,” he says, before adding, “It’s made from a piece of my armor.”

“It is?” you gasp a little, “So it’s like I’m wearing a little piece of you?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods.

“Then I love it even more,” you tell him truthfully. “If I close my eyes, can I thank you with a kiss?”

“Absolutely,” Din says. You let your eyes flutter closed and then you feel his lips on yours, kissing you softly and slowly. It’s so sweet and romantic, you feel like you want to swoon. His tongue comes out to brush lightly against your bottom lip and you open your mouth letting him deepen the kiss. You pull him closer to you, running your hand up into his hair as you tug lightly and shift against him to position yourself to an even better angle. This rouses something in Din and he kisses you more passionately as his hands run down your back to your hips before pulling you flush to his body. After a bit he breaks away from your lips, only so he can trail kisses down your neck and throat, traveling further down until he kisses your chest right above the pendant.

“I’m glad you love the necklace,” Din says and you can feel his breath on your chest as his fingers lightly play with the pendant, “It… it means a lot to me, giving this to you means I feel attached to you… it means that you have my heart.”

“Oh, Din,” your voice fills with emotion, “You have my heart too.”

“Then I don’t need anything else in the galaxy, cyar’ika.” After those sweet words, Din moves back up to give you another scorching kiss.

When he pulls away this time, he rests his forehead on yours and asks, “Did you think to grab the sleep mask before we left?”

You giggle a little at that and say, “Yes, I did. It’s in the outside pouch of my bag.”

He kisses you again, “Can I get it?”

“Yes, but, do you think it will be ok with the little one right in the room with us? I mean I know he’s in his pod…” you trail off, really wanting things to continue but a little torn given the sleeping accommodations tonight.

“His pod is soundproofed, but I’m sure we can be quieter if we try,” Din replies, “But if you’re not comfortable with that, we can just sleep.”

“Well, if you think we can be quieter,” you reply honestly, “I’d rather keep going.”

“Me too,” Din says and in almost an instant, he’s back by your side slipping the mask over your eyes and kissing you soundly again.

“Cyar’ika, can I undress you?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond. Gently, Din removes each piece of your clothing. He is unhurried as he reveals more of you to him, almost as if you’re a present and he’s savoring the unwrapping. When he reveals a patch of skin, he pauses to kiss you there, sometimes letting his hot tongue slip out and taste you. Each time he does it, you melt a little more into his touch. When you’re completely naked, he guides you to the bed so you can lie back. He kisses your lips one more time before telling you, “Let me remove my clothing now, I’ll be just a bit.”

You wait in anticipation, and when you hear him moving closer to the bed again, you’re surprised when you feel him kissing your toes.

“Din!” you yelp in surprise.

“Shh, cyar’ika,” he murmurs, “We’re supposed to be quieter.”

“You surprised me,” you explain, but in a softer voice this time.

You feel his lips again on your feet as he starts to kiss his way to your ankle and then up your calf. He’s gradually parting your legs as he works his way up higher and higher. You can guess his destination as he places a kiss high up on your inner thigh, but then you’re surprised again when he pulls away. When you feel him kissing your other foot, you realize he’s repeating the whole process on the other leg this time. He’s taking his time kissing and tasting your skin, and it feels so good that it’s turning you on more than you can believe. This time when Din gets to your inner thigh, you’re trembling in anticipation. As he lingers, you can’t take it anymore and you start to beg him.

“Din, please,” you whine out so softly it’s almost a whimper.

“Do you want more, cyar’ika?” he says against your skin and he lets his tongue caress the very top of your thigh. It’s so good, but it’s still too far away.

“Yes, please, higher.” This time it is a whimper and you don’t even care just so long as it gets him to finally kiss and lick where you need him most.

“Well, when you ask so nicely…” Din finally brings his tongue to your pussy and licks a path from the bottom all the way up to the very top where he places a kiss directly on your clit.

You let out a soft mewling sound and he says, “Was that better?”

“Please, more,” you manage to get out in a breathy voice.

“Anything for you, cyar’ika,” Din says before licking you again in the same deliberate manner. He keeps this up, licking in long strokes but very slowly, driving you completely crazy with desire. You start to try to grind your hips against his tongue but his hands come up to hold you still.

“You’re so eager,” he chuckles, “But be patient, my love; I’ll make it good for you.” With that comment, he pushes his tongue inside you as his fingers come up to draw light circles around your clit. It feels incredible and you let out a shaky moan as he finally starts to give you more. His tongue and his lips start to explore you in earnest, tasting and sucking on your most sensitive parts, turning you into a moaning mess. It an attempt to be quieter, you hold your hand up to your mouth to muffle the sounds because you just can’t stop making them.

“Mmm, that’s a sound I like to hear,” Din says between licks, “Reminds me of when you were first on the ship with me, late at night, I’d hear you trying to be quiet as you touched yourself.”

“You heard that?” you manage to gasp out, you’d be a little embarrassed but considering where his head is now, you don’t care.

“Yes, and I lived for it,” he tells you before diving back in and picking up his pace. You keen up into his mouth as he sucks hard on your clit, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste, and you feel your thighs starting to quake. When he pushes two fingers deep inside you, you can feel yourself starting to tighten around them. Your pleasure builds and just when it seems like you can’t take anymore, you feel yourself coming apart all over his face and hand.

You’re still panting when he makes his way up your body and then pulls you into another passionate kiss. His enthusiasm for you is humbling, but truthfully, you feel the same way, like you can never get enough of him. You break the kiss to move down his body now; you place hot, open-mouthed kisses all down his torso. You stop at both of his nipples to tease them with your tongue and nip at them lightly. Now it’s his turn to moan as you let your hands and mouth guide you lower and lower.

“Where are you g-going, cyar’ika?” Din grounds out, his voice stuttering as your tongue delves into his navel.

“Mmmm, can’t you guess, my love?” And with that, you let your mouth envelope the head of his cock and swirl your tongue all around it. Din lets out a loud groan that is almost a whine and you smile to yourself.

“Now who needs to be quiet?” you tease before returning to let your tongue caress his shaft all over with long, wet licks.

“Aaaahhh, just feels so fucking good,” Din breathes out, his voice low.

“I’m going to make you feel amazing,” you promise, and you return to the head, rubbing your tongue across the sensitive spot just underneath before sucking him into your mouth. You go about halfway down this time before pulling off him again. You return to taunting him with licks, this time running your tongue over his balls before you resume sucking him. You repeat this teasing process, each time sucking him deeper into your mouth until you start to hum to open your throat as you begin to reach his base. When you finally take all of him, he’s practically shuddering at the sensation. You take pity on him and instead of continuing to tease, you hollow your cheeks and begin to glide up and down, showing him how much you want to please him, wanting to give him the same intense pleasure he brought you a few moments ago. You can hear him doing his best to muffle his moans as he shakes and writhes underneath you. You can tell he’s trying not to thrust into your mouth, but he can’t help bucking his hips a little and when he does, it causes your throat to constrict around him increasing his enjoyment. You can tell he’s starting to get very close, but before you can get him there, he’s pushing you away.

“No, no, wait, I… I don’t want to yet…” Din gasps.

“Are you sure? I wanted you to finish in my mouth,” you explain, still eager to resume.

Din groans a little, but moves to haul you back up against him, “If I do that right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to make love to you anymore tonight, and I want that more.”

“Oh, Din,” your voice catches a little, “I do want you to keep making love to me, but sometime, I want you to let me finish you with my mouth.”

“Yes, sometime,” he kisses you to seal the promise. Din rolls you onto your side so that your back is flush against his chest, “I want to take you like this, cyar’ika,” he says. His hands are already maneuvering your legs so he can slide himself between them, and then you feel his steely erection rubbing deliciously between your folds.

“Yes, Din… aaah, like this is perfect.” Your breath hitches in your chest as he positions himself to enter you.

“Tell me,” he says.

You reach back to cradle his head with your hand and bring him closer to you, “Take me like this, Din, I want you… I need you.”

With that, he thrusts into you in one swift motion causing all the breath in your body to push out in a gasp. As he moves within you, he winds his arm around you tight holding you close against his chest. It’s like there’s no space between you at all. His mouth attaches itself to your neck where he’s biting and sucking a new mark into your skin. You can feel him everywhere and it’s overwhelming in the best way. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the stirring of your climax again and you start to struggle to stay quiet. In this position, every thrust hits on your most pleasurable spot deep inside you and it’s taking all that you have not to scream out Din’s name. You know he must be getting closer to his peak too, as he’s also starting to groan and grunt more.

“Are you close, cyar’ika?” Din asks you desperately and he drops his hand to your clit to rub fast circles there. All you can get out is a whimper and a shaky breath, as you start to feel the waves of your orgasm lapping at you. Din doubles his efforts and starts to beg you, “Please, cyar’ika, please… I’m so close… want you to come first… need you to… oooh, please.”

Hearing him plead with you like that is all you need to send you over the edge and almost as soon as your inner muscles begin to flutter around him, Din is following right along with you. He holds you as tight as he possibly can as he pumps himself into you and bites down on your shoulder to keep himself from crying out. You’re so stunned by the sensation you feel like you might black out from the pleasure. You’re shuddering from little aftershocks of bliss when Din starts to speak to you again but he’s speaking in Mando’a and you can’t fully understand what he’s saying.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika,” he says reverently and turns you towards him so he can kiss you fully.

When he breaks the kiss, he speaks again, only this time in Basic, “I love you, my sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and then you tell him, “I love you too, Din.” His lips find yours again in the sweetest, most tender kiss.

When you break apart the next time, you ask him, “Will you say it in Mando’a again?” He does and you carefully repeat it back to him. You barely get the last syllable out and he’s kissing you again, as if he can never kiss you enough. You kiss him back fervently trying to pour all of your love into it, wanting him to understand just how much you love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two days pass pleasantly in the Covert. Din feels pleased that you fit in so well with everyone and it warms his heart to see how eager you are to learn more about his culture. It fills him with a new hope for the future, and he lets himself daydream about being able to return to the tribe permanently with you. Still though, Din can’t ignore the danger that you’re in and each hour that passes makes him anxious that the Imps could be headed here right now. In discussing the predicament with his tribe, Din was able to come up with a plan to keep you on the move and, hopefully, to find a stronger Covert that could help you defeat Kerrick. While his tribe and the others in this new Covert offered up their fighters, Din refused to accept based on their already reduced numbers. Now each moment that passes, his unease at being caught builds. It’s on this third evening, that he brings up his worries with you.

“I think we should leave tomorrow,” Din suggests, and you can hear the concern in his voice.

“You don’t think we’re safe here?” You’d been feeling so much better since arriving, that you’d hoped you’d be able to stay longer.

“It isn’t that-- I… I don’t think we’re safe anywhere, really,” he pauses and looks down at the ground when he says, “I’m worried that if we stay any longer, I’m endangering the Covert again, like Nevarro.”

You know all about Nevarro now as the other night the Armorer and the rest of Din’s tribe spoke about it, wanting both you and the other Mandalorians to understand more about that part of their history, and as a way of honoring those who lost their lives during the battle. Din was very quiet though as the story was being told, opting to simply grip your hand tightly and listen. You could tell that he still felt responsible for the loss of the Nevarro Covert, despite his tribe’s endeavors to show everyone that only the Imperial forces were to blame.

“I understand,” you reassure Din, “We can leave tonight if you think we should, it won’t take long to get our things together.”

“Can we? I think it would be the best option.” You can hear a note of relief in his voice as you agree with him and let him know that you’ll start packing right away.

“I just need to speak to the Armorer again,” Din tells you, “I shouldn’t be too long.”

When he finds the Armorer at her forge, she appears to have been expecting him. He doesn’t know how she does it, but it’s almost as if she can anticipate his thoughts, it’s always been that way with her. He wonders for a moment if she might share some of the child’s powers.

“Din Djarin, I have the pieces you have requested,” she speaks in her carefully measured voice.

“Thank you, I appreciate that you’ve worked to complete them so quickly for me,” he responds and watches as she moves to collect two small leather pouches. When he opens the first, he pulls out another beskar pendant; this time it is a mudhorn, the exact match to the one on his pauldron. The second pouch contains three rings, one is a ring of yours that Din swiped from your jewelry collection, and the other two are matching bands of beskar, one in the same size as your ring and the other sized to fit his own finger.

“I see that she wears the heart pendant with joy,” the Armorer tells him, and then asks, “When will you ask her to join your clan?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Din admits a bit bashfully, “But I want to be prepared to ask her when the time is right.”

“You have the blessing of the tribe, if you should want it,” she declares to him, “Your woman has mandokarla and we will always welcome her.”

“Thank you, that means so much to me,” Din replies gratefully.

“You have decided to leave us,” the Armorer states, again already seeming to know his thoughts before he shares them.

“Yes, I think it is for the best.” His voice can’t contain its concern, but he knows she understands as she nods to him.

“You must do what is best for your clan. This is the way,” she confirms.

“This is the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later and you’re back in hyperspace. You’ve been following the plan that Din’s tribe helped him design, stopping at some remote outposts in hopes of finding other Mandalorians. So far, the information the Covert shared with Din has been reliable and you both feel confident in your efforts. A sudden pinging on the dash draws Din’s attention and he sees that a transmission is coming in.

“Brother, we heard you are seeking assistance,” a strong voice speaks out into the cockpit, but no holo accompanies it.

“That depends on who’s offering,” Din responds carefully.

“Our Covert has heard that you need warriors to battle against some Imps,” the voice says, “We are willing to help you in that endeavor.”

“How did you come to hear that?” Din questions the voice.

“We are in communication with many other Coverts, and heard of your needs through our contacts,” the voice explains.

Din stays quiet as he thinks; the caller’s explanation seems logical but trusting a disembodied voice also seems a bit naïve. He continues to hesitate in his response when the voice speaks again.

“We also have information about where you can find the Jedi.”

“What are your coordinates?” Din asks, his mind made up. If they know about the Imperials and the Jedi, then they must have spoken to his Covert.

“We’re transmitting them now,” the voice informs him.

“Thank you, for being willing to help us,” Din says graciously.

“Ibic mando’kar,” the voice states.

“This is the way,” Din replies before ending the call.

As soon as the transmission is cut off, you speak up, “Do you think they’re the Mandalorians we’ve been searching for?”

“They must be, I know they’re an older sect and it makes sense that they’d say ‘Ibic mando’kar’ for ‘This is the way’,” he explains to you, “I think they can help us.”

You’re about to ask him more about these Mandalorians and what he knows, but you’re stopped by the child who has started fussing and crying. You go over to pick him up, but he’s worked himself up into a real tantrum, and no matter how much you try to soothe him, he won’t calm down.

“Are you hungry already, buddy?” You pull out some snacks from your pocket for him, but he shoves them away and cries harder. You know Din needs to focus on piloting the ship to the new coordinates so you descend to the hull with the poor little guy. You try rocking him, singing to him, even a warm bath, but nothing seems to help. He doesn’t seem to be in any visible discomfort so you simply sit and hold him hoping that ultimately your presence will show him that everything is ok. Eventually, he’s exhausted himself and falls asleep. You clean the tears off his little face, and although it’s finally quiet on the ship, you can’t shake a feeling of unease after how upset the child has been. However, you’re exhausted too after trying to care for him and you find yourself curling up on your bed your own eyes closing shortly afterwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You reach the coordinates provided to you by the Covert on a remote planet whose name you don’t know. The scenery does nothing to lift your mood, as the place appears to be an old industrial center and now looks run-down and abandoned. Although, given what you know about the need for the Mandalorian Coverts to remain secretive, you suppose that makes sense. You follow Din off the Crest with the child’s pod floating right beside you. As you walk to the designated meeting point, a large warehouse building, the child begins to whine again. You see the familiar sight of a mythosaur skull painted above the doorway to the warehouse and you breathe a sigh of relief, that this must be the correct place. You enter the building, but everything is dark and dusty inside and it doesn’t look like anyone is around. Thinking back to Din’s Covert, you expect that some guards will probably appear like before. When you see a helmeted figure in the shadows, you think you must be right, that is until the person turns to reveal the stark white helmet and armor of a storm trooper.

“You found us!” An eerily cheery voice trills out, making your blood run cold. It’s Kerrick.

Din instantly moves to shield you behind him, but you know it’s in vain, as now you can see an entire squadron of troopers moving out of the shadows to surround you. Even with Din’s impeccable skills as a gunslinger, there’s no way you could take on this many troopers, you are hopelessly outgunned.

“Come now, my little doll, don’t be shy,” Kerrick’s voice is almost sing-songy in his joy at trapping you, “I’ve missed you so very much, baby doll.”

Your heart is lurching in your chest and you feel sick to your stomach. You’re running through all the possible scenarios in your head, but there’s only one that you can think of which will keep Din and the child from being hurt.

“I’ve missed you too, Kerrick,” you call out, stepping out from behind Din.

Din’s hand reaches out to pull you back, but you gently shake your head and pull away. Before you do, you try to look into his visor with all the love you can and silently try to tell him that everything you’re about to say is a lie, but you have no idea if he can understand that.

“My sweet baby doll, come here and give your man a kiss,” Kerrick leers at you with a wide grin.

You raise your hands up as you walk slowly towards him, and you make your voice high pitched and girly, the way he used to like when you were in bed together, as you say, “Kerrick, all these guns are scaring me, can’t you have them put the blasters away?”

“Oh, my little doll, those are for your protection,” Kerrick explains condescendingly.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I can come any closer, I’m too scared,” you tell him.

“Alright, my doll, for you,” and he motions for the troopers to lower their blasters.

You feel a tiny sense of victory as you can tell you still have some power over Kerrick even with how twisted and vile he’s become. You move closer to him and when you’re within arm’s reach, he becomes impatient and he reaches out to grab you. Din’s instincts kick in and he draws his blaster without thinking and aims directly for Kerrick.

“Uh, uh, uh, Mandalorian, she just said she’s scared of blasters,” Kerrick admonishes, “You don’t want to scare my doll any more than you already have, do you?”

Oh no, you need to salvage this and quickly, “It’s not like that, Kerrick, he’s been trying to help me find you,” you lie, “I’ve been so lonely and sad without you, and he’s been protecting me until I could get back to you.”

“Is that true?” Kerrick asks, skeptical, “From our visit to Angel One, I was under the impression that you’ve been acting like a little whore for him.”

You want to die as you say these next words, but you know you need to convince Kerrick to let Din and the child go, “I was just using him, so he’d keep helping me, but it was just so I could find you again, Kerrick, after all, I’m still your doll.” Your hand comes up to your chest to sit over Din’s heart pendant hidden under your tunic and you hate yourself for having to put Din through this.

Din’s blood is boiling and he feels heartsick as he hears you lie to Kerrick. He knows you must be lying in an attempt to save him and the child. But he can’t ignore how much your words hurt, even if they’re not true. Hearing you call yourself “doll” though and seeing you grip your pendant, he tells himself that you don’t mean what you’re saying, that you do really love him, and that you’re prepared to sacrifice yourself to save him. He’s so angry with himself for leading you into this trap and he’s desperate to find another solution, but like you, he’s out of options. He has to do all he can right now to reign in his desire to start shooting.

Kerrick’s arms are wrapping tighter around your waist, and you know you’re going to have to muster up every acting skill you have if you’re going to convince him of your falsehood. You bring a hand up to caress his face, and he nuzzles into your touch. You thought he was handsome once, but his years with the Empire have changed him and his smug, pretty boy face holds no attraction for you now. You push these thoughts deep down though, and close your eyes as you bring him closer to you for a kiss. It takes everything you have not to shove him away in disgust. As Kerrick forces his tongue into your mouth, you tell yourself to be calm and then you pretend you’re kissing Din. It’s a struggle, but you manage to fool Kerrick enough that when he pulls away he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Let’s go, doll,” he says and he starts to tug you away.

“Wait, Kerrick, will you do something for me, please?” You do your best to make yourself look as sweet and innocent as you can and you use the girly voice again.

“What can I do for you, baby doll?” He looks at you like you’re a child asking for a treat.

“Will you let the Mandalorian go back to his ship? He really did help me find you, and if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have this wonderful reunion.” You pray Kerrick won’t see through your ploy.

“You always were so softhearted,” Kerrick says as he pats you on the ass.

“Please, for me? Please, Kerrick,” It’s soul crushing to have to beg him like this, but if it can help Din even a little you have to do it.

“Oh alright, I don’t want you to be sad or distracted all night. I have much better plans for us,” Kerrick tells you suggestively. You do your best not to throw up right then, but plan to save it as an escape for later.

“You six, take the Mandalorian back to his ship,” Kerrick motions to a group of troopers. Ok, six is still kind of a lot, but if feels like a number Din can probably handle. You don’t believe for a second that Kerrick is actually going to let Din go without a fight, but at least now he’s not facing an entire squadron.

“Can I say goodbye?” You know you’re pushing it, so you add, “To the child.”

“Fine, but make it quick,” Kerrick pats you on the ass again and you run back over to Din and the child. You scoop the baby up in your arms, but you look directly at Din and mouth, “I love you, I’m sorry.” He inclines his head in the slightest of nods and you know he understands. It doesn’t stop your heart from breaking in two though and you know tears are threatening to spill from your eyes.

“That’s enough!” Kerrick’s sharp voice calls out and you place the baby back in his pod before fixing a fake smile on your face and turning back to Kerrick. It’s shaky at best and you know you can’t hide your teary eyes so you throw yourself back into Kerrick’s arms hoping that a seemingly enthusiastic hug will mask your true feelings.

He chuckles, pats your head, and says, “Don’t worry, doll, I’ve got you now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The troopers lead Din out of the warehouse and each step feels painful, as he knows it’s taking him further away from you. All he wants to do is run back into that warehouse and fight for you, but he knows a deathtrap when he sees one. He doesn’t believe for one second that the troopers are going to let him leave, but he’s pretty sure he can take them out and get to the ship fast enough to get away. If he can make the jump to hyperspace before Kerrick’s cruiser can realize what’s happening he should be able to escape with his life.

“Be sure to get the asset,” one of the troopers is muttering to another, and Din knows it’s time. He charges and fires his whistling birds taking out four of the troopers at once and as he turns to fire at the other two, he sees their bodies being slammed together forcefully. Despite the terrible situation, he smiles to himself as he sees the child’s hands raised, helping him defeat the Imps. He quickly dispatches the last two troopers and then dashes to the Razor Crest.

He takes off as quickly as he knows how and, risking everything, makes the jump to hyperspace while he’s still in the planet’s atmosphere. It’s incredibly dangerous but it pays off and thankfully, the Crest manages to get away.

As hyperspace glows blue around him, Din plots in a course back to his Covert. He needs reinforcements and this time he can’t let the past hold him back from accepting help.

“We’re going to get her back, buddy,” Din vows looking at the child, “Don’t you worry.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Link to Chapter 9: Not Without My Cyar’ika

Mando’a glossary:

gar vode = your brethren, your brothers

ner vod = my brother

beroya = bounty hunter

riduurok = marriage, wedding ceremony

riduur = spouse

ad’ika = little one (affectionate)

aliit = family

buir = parent

di’kut = idiot

mesh’la = beautiful

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you (literally, I know you forever)

mandokarla = having the right stuff, the epitome of Mandalorian spirit

Ibic mando’kar =This is the way (there is some debate about how to say it)

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @hotsauceonabiscuit @asta-lily

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut

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inkformyblood · 3 years ago

Text

towards an unseen day

Day 03 of @bobadinweek prompt: Caretaking

Warnings: None

Laughter echoed down the small side tunnel, deep and rumbling through the earth like an aftershock, and Din paused, letting the sound wash over him.

His hand — still pressed to the wall — brushed over the symbol carved there, the chill of the stone settling into his bones as his bare skin traced the lines he couldn’t read but understood all the same.

There had been a strange look in Boba’s eyes when he took Din’s hand — pausing first, his gaze flickering upwards in a silent question — to place it against the symbol when he first carved it into the rock wall. He had mentioned the Kaminoans, and their fluorescent ink that the clones had quickly learned to hack into their HUD display, with a note of mournful laughter in his voice, but hadn’t said what the symbols meant. His free hand had curled through battle-signs as he spoke, so Din could guess well enough: home, safety, return.

An ache had settled into Din’s bones, and every step closer to home lightened his burden, but still he waited, his head tipped to one side as he listened. There was a second current of laughter, tumbling after the first like a shadow, high and uncoordinated. His steps were faster now, warmth flooding through his chest and he input the code as quickly as his trembling fingers would let him.

Light filled the small room, heralded in a thousand shimmering fragments from the mirrors suspended above, reflecting the scrap of sunlight that fell through the barred window. Lining one indented wall was an array of packaged ingredients but the order was disrupted by clear gaps like missing teeth in the neat rows. Across the opposite wall hung a tapestry, currents of scarlet and bronze dancing through a background of dark blue, the careful images of the constellations above Tatooine picked out amongst a stylised set of Mandalorian armour, but the figures in front captured Din’s attention utterly as he pulled his helmet off, clipping it onto his belt.

Boba was without his armour, dressed in instead in a loose linen shirt that clung to the broad curve of his shoulders and fell past his hips to his thighs, and dark trousers. The birikad across his chest had been modified with the dark green fabric tied around the ring on Boba’s shoulder to allow Grogu to watch the world around him.

The child’s hands were stretched towards the fruit laid out on the counter in front of him, already stained with the dark berry juice, and, as Din watched, a sliver rose into the air. It hung for a moment, commanded by a power Din could barely wonder at, before Boba plucked the fruit, his hands stained with purple smudges and threw it into his mouth.

“Patoo!” Grogu demanded, his ears twitching, but his darkening mood passed in an instant as Boba ducked his head to smooth a kiss over his forehead, tapping the curve of one ear carefully.

“Later, kid. Save some for your buir.”

Boba tipped his head, his grin broadening as he caught Din’s gaze, and picked the knife back up. Grogu babbled, waving a hand towards one of the bowls before twisting to peer up at Boba.

“Yeah, that’s the next one. Good job.”

Din’s chest felt too full, too warm, barely able to breathe for fear of disrupting the scene in front of him. He had never imagined that he would have a life close to this. The closest he got to imagining his future was a shapeless plan to provide as best as he could for the foundlings and his covert. His usual grace had abandoned him as he stumbled forward, resting his hand on the table as the expected aches and pains made themselves known, radiating down his spine and legs.

Grogu turned with a shriek of delight, his eyes bright and reached from the pouch, almost over balancing to try and reach Din sooner. He caught the child, scooping him up to press their foreheads together. The scent of tart berries clung to him, mixing with the comforting warmth of blue milk and the herbs that were mixed into the laundry to keep them fresh.

“Missed you, womp rat.”

This close to Boba, he could sense rather than see the grin that spilled across his face, but Din moved up to kiss him before it could reach fruition. The scars on Boba’s lips, ridged against Din’s oversensitive skin made a shiver roll down his spine, the action mirrored as his beard scratched against Boba’s cheeks. Din broke away, shifting to press his forehead to Boba’s, Grogu cooing in the crook of his arm in satisfaction. The slight pressure of the Force against the back of his head made Din pause, but Boba was already moving to blindly tap his finger against Grogu’s cheek in gentle admonishment.

“We’ve got the memo, kid. Don’t need any outside help here.”

Din chuckled, reflexively trying to stifle the noise at Grogu’s disgruntled whine, and gently rocked all three of them, his free hand slipping to rest on Boba’s waist. The shape of a modified blaster, carefully hidden beneath the loose fabric made him pause, his laughter breaking free once again.

“Could hear you coming down the tunnels. But can’t get complacent.” Boba’s words were grave and tinged with bitterness, and Din nodded, careful to not break their connection.

This small room attached to both of their chambers and Grogu’s room had become a sanctuary of sorts. The shelves held ingredients suitable for long term storage in case they needed to shelter, and next to the door lay the familiar shapes of their grab bags. Grogu’s had been a new addition — a small brown knapsack, contrived to have as many pockets as possible — and Din knew some of them were already filled with the snacks he enjoyed, and that the kitchen staff kept slipping to him when Din and Boba pretended not to notice.

“How was the job?” Boba stepped away with one final gentle kiss, squeezing Din’s hand around his waist before he picked up the knife again. He picked up the bowl Grogu had indicated earlier and removed one of the yellow fruit from within. It’s skin was tough and ridged, and Boba anchored it on the board before working on piercing the knife through it.

“Well as could be expected at first. The traps and countermeasures he had set up against the Imperials were well-made, and just as effective against me.”

Din felt Boba’s worry rumble through him as if he was back on the ship, the rthymic sticky sound of the knife blade pausing as he looked him over. Grogu babbled, patting his chest plate, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I managed. That’s why you pay me well.”

Boba scoffed, and Din knew that his plans for the evening had just changed. The palace boasted an impressive set of heated baths in its depths, and Din had been looking forward to sinking into them. Boba wouldn’t rest until he catalogued every new wound and every purpling bruise.

Din let his thoughts wander for a moment, lingering on the warm steam that seemed to stick to the skin and the press of Boba’s hands — the callouses so like his own, rough but a sign of skill and training that made his head swim — against the ache that had settled in the curve of his shoulders and the fresh wound wrapped around his thigh. His gaze drifted to Boba’s, taking in the knowing grin on his face.

“Later,” he promised, an eyebrow raised as he inclined his chin towards Grogu curled into Din’s arms.

Din’s answering blush was immediate, feeling as if he had scorched his skin with his flamethrower, the heat spreading down his neck and across his chest. “He took some convincing but the information you gave me is still good.”

⁂

The blaster shot cracked against the wall just above Din’s head, the heat leaving a burning line across the edge of his beskar. He bit back a curse even as a grin, wide and unrestrained, slipped across his face.

His approach to the small encampment had been slow, a careful waltz around the concealed jagged traps that lined the walls of the ravine — all carefully at head-height for the average human and designed to be deadly. Their make was familiar, the twisted knots at the top arranged in a pattern that almost looked like a hand gesture. Boba tied knots for his snares the exact same way.

The intelligence he had managed to gather independently of Boba’s thriving informant network hadn’t proven to be of much use. A sea of closed mouths and gazes that turned away the moment they could, as impenetrable as any wall, greeted him at the small bar next to the single spaceport. The man had clearly managed to win their loyalty, something that seemed to be a reoccurring thread with these missions.

He was skilled with a blaster, proving it with another shot, curved through a modified barrel to try and draw Din out of hiding. Din went with the motion, catching the shot on his vambrace and directing it harmlessly into the dirt, and he ran towards the next outcrop, hearing the clicks and whirs of the blaster reloading echoe clearly.

“Kark off, Imp!” The man’s shout was clear, rage clear through every word, and Din watched the flicker of the shadow move, elongated through the setting sun. “I’m not joining your karking plot so you can shove it up your arse!”

“Boba Fett sent me!” Din called. A bubble of laughter settled in his chest, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he pushed it down. There would be time later.

Siblings, wherever they were found, held a note of similarity between them, and Boba and his many brothers were no different to Din and his covert.

The face that appeared in the small gap of the overhanging rock, barely visible theough Din’s visor, was similar enough to Boba that he could chart the similarities: the same unhinged grin, the same dark eyes and the same way of assessing the situation, his gaze focused like a sniper’s guide. But the clone had a shock of dark curls shot through with grey, grown wild after being cut back for so long and hanging at uneven lengths, and faint tattoos around his eyes, pale lines tracing around two large ovals like a Togruta’s markings.

“Boba? My ori’vod’ika sent you?” His voice in sharp contrast to the ringing shout before was quiet and pensive before his jaw closed with a snap and the rifle was drawn to his shoulder once more. “Talk faster.”

“Remember Docking Bay Seven!” Silence greeted Din’s call, as it had everytime before. Boba had shared many parts of his childhood on Kamino with Din from the small quarters he shared with his father to some of the training missions he undertook with the other clones but there was a wealth of adventures and occurrences that he couldn’t speak of.

Din understood. He couldn’t put into words the time he spent with Paz, the hours of meaningless conversations or the spark that had bloomed between them on their first meeting, tipping his face back to stare into the half-finished tattoos that ran over the other boys face like lightning strikes. But that phrase… it meant something precious to the clones Din had managed to retrieve from their bolt holes.

The clone above him laughed, wild and unrestrained. “Bob’ika has done well for himself then! Word of advice, your armour reflects sunlight like a signal flare. I saw you coming yesterday.”

“But you didn’t run.”

The man swung himself down, the muscles in his arms flexing in a deliberate display of power and control. When he stepped closer, it was a swagger, confident and sure of himself. “I am still a soldier, not matter what happened. I don’t run from a fight.”

“None of the information mentioned a name or a signifier,” Din began, and the man’s eyes widened for a moment, old surprise still fresh and burning. “What would you like to be called?”

“You retrieve many clones for our Boba?” The man’s gaze slipped over him, lingering on the mud horn on his pauldron and taking in the careful free space waiting for Boba’s mark. His grin was worn with melancholy, and his hand moved to touch the fanged necklace corded around his throat before brushing against the dotted lines tattooed across his cheek as it circled his eyes.

“Enough. There’s a compound on Tatooine many of them stay at. Some travel.”

“Tatooine?” Laughter rumbled through him, a burst of humour several of the other clones had displayed and Din couldn’t begin to wonder at. “Of course it is.

“Call me Alpha-17. That’s the name I chose for myself before all this.”

⁂

Boba hummed as Din finished recounting his mission, pausing to tap the blade along the board, now slick with a pale green juice.

“Alpha-17 helped train the younger clones after the trainers focused their attentions more on the speciality tracks. The Alpha class was one of the few that my buir hand-trained.”

Boba reached over, a piece of dripping fruit cradled in his palm, and Grogu plucked it carefully, his claws piercing slightly into the exposed flesh. The juice ran over his arms, glistening trails darkening the fabric of his robe, but Din’s attention was captured by Boba. He had raised his palm to his mouth, pale liquid spilling down his chin, and heat bloomed in Din’s belly, immediate and severe.

What he had left out of his recounting was the question he placed to Alpha-17 as they travelled. Food had been important to the covert, and learning a new recipe and perfecting it was considered the first true step towards a formal proposal.

The man had laughed, immediately plucking Din’s intentions from his careful questions, and answered as honestly as he could remember. Jango’s food was sacred to Boba, each remembered meal a sacrifice and a prayer, the kitchen made holy by his devoted attention, so Din worked at reconstruction, following the thread as devoutly as he would a bounty.

Boba paused, stretching out to draw Din down to kiss him once more, his mouth sweet and sticky, and Din marvelled at the life they had made and the possibility of what came next, each carving out a place for the other to shelter.

#bobadinweek2021 #BobaDin #the mandalorian #Star Wars #din Djarin #boba fett #grogu djarin #my writing

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madam-o · 3 years ago

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Thinking on the last Book of Boba Fett episode which was actually, in fact, more like S3 E1 of The Mandalorian, I wonder if there might be a good reason for it being like that.

Boba is going through a transitional period in his life where he's thinking a lot about his past, who he was, and who he wants to become. Din is also transitioning but having a hard time of it; he's got his covert and their creed, which made him who he is, and Grogu and his other new friends, who are encouraging change in his life.

Boba's father was a foundling Mandalorian and must have shared his feelings and insights about that culture with Boba. As Boba is considered an outsider by other Mandalorians, he can give Din some perspective on how to be his own Mandalorian and not be bogged down by others' definitions of what a "true Mandalorian" is.

There's also the issue of the Darksaber. Din's issues with fighting the blade feel like a metaphor for how he still fights against being a "main character". Boba on the other hand is definitely ready to become the hero of his own story. As Boba has large ambitions and needs to raise an army of sorts, winning the Darksaber from Din would go a long way towards achieving that goal. Not that he'd hurt or kill Din, but he'd definitely challenge him to a duel for it. I think at this point of Din's character arc his heart wouldn't be in that fight and he'd give up the Darksaber willingly.

But of course there's also Bo-Katan and the Armorer. They both have designs on the Darksaber to resurrect the different versions of Mandalore that they separately envision. Din is caught in the middle and likely will be conflicted about what he believes the future of Mandalore should be.

As for Boba, his concerns are practical and worldly, so if he wins the Darksaber his thought would be, "To hell with Mandalore, if they want to survive, the Mandalorians should join my gotra and become rich and powerful." So this would create a lot of juicy drama.

The Book of Boba Fett hasn't been the origin story that I think Boba fans wanted, but it is serving as an interesting bridge to S3 in The Mandalorian's saga. Din's story encompasses all of the Mandalorians' stories at this point in history so it kinda makes sense for him to feature prominently in TBOBF, but I'd be surprised if they keep him this prominent in the last two episodes. I expect to see Boba calling together his mercenary/hunter friends and riding that rancor sooner rather than later.

#tbobf #the book of boba fett #boba fett #the mandalorian #bo katan kryze #the armorer #din djarin

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ace-din-djarin · 3 years ago

Note

For the fanfic writer questions, 5 and 6?

Oooh these are excellent questions, thank you!

5) What makes your main ship so compatible? Or, what makes them so incompatible? What do they see in each other?

--- I love Luke and Din specifically because they are so compatible. We have two men who are some of the last of their kind, who have inherited a religion, a history, that they don’t really understand/ don’t have the resources to understand. The Jedi were hunted to near extinction by the Empire; Mandalore and scores of its people were destroyed, with only small sects scattered throughout the galaxy surviving to pass on what they know. On top of that, for Din, was the destruction of his original homeworld and family; the man has two histories within him that he can never truly know. They would be able to understand how each other feels about upholding a past like that, especially considering Din is technically the Mand’alor, with his accidental Darksaber acquisition; Luke “Last Jedi” Skywalker is absolutely someone who would understand the pressure that type of responsibility would place on a person.

They’ve also both been forced into some tough circumstances and have had to make tough decisions in their pasts-- Luke had to destroy the Death Star and kill millions of people, and THEN face his father and the Emperor; Din has to constantly fight for his survival and has to be ruthless and oftentimes unmerciful if it means his and his covert’s/ foundling’s survival-- and yet. And yet. They’re both kind. They both value family and their bonds with others. They both help others out when they have a chance. I truly think they work so well together because they understand each other’s struggle and also value very similar things. They just make sense to me. And I think both would also value the others’ skill on the battlefield as well as their compassion.

You also can’t tell me Din “weapons are my religion” Djarin didn’t watch Luke mowing down dark troopers like it was nothing and didn’t feel ANYTHING for him. You just can’t.

6) How do you feel the environment your character(s) grew up in shaped them as a human? How does the environment they’re in now shape them currently?

---- This is specifically about Luke because he’s fascinating, but I can always elaborate on Din if anyone else would like! I love them both!

--- Growing up on Tatooine, I think, influenced Luke way more than fandom often remembers. We often talk about how Luke got Padme’s compassion, and I do think that’s true to an extent. But a big part of how a person behaves is how they’re raised (nature vs nurture argument, yeah!) and I think his compassion stems a LOT from how he was raised by Beru and Owen. Growing up poor on a poor planet, farming a natural resource in order to survive, it had to have shaped a lot of who Luke is as a person. He doesn’t turn down the opportunity to help people.

Having grown up hearing stories about his father and grandmother who were SLAVES, remember, and seeing first hand the cruelty of the Hutts, I think would absolutely make Luke the kind of person who couldn’t let cruelty go unpunished if he had a chance. And what does he do immediately after joining the rebellion? He destroys the Death Star-- he flies a perilous mission for people he doesn’t know and has no allegiance to, because it’s the right thing to do. And THEN, later, he insists he can’t kill his father when Yoda and Ben insist he will have to. That’s Luke’s compassion shining through. We joke about Leia killing Palpatine and Vader with no issue if she were the Jedi, but I agree that that probably would have happened, and I think a big part of that is how they were raised. This isn’t to say that Bail and Breha didn’t raise Leia to be compassionate; absolutely not. However, they did raise her as a princess, as a leader. She has a much different view on compassion and acceptable sacrifices to make than Luke does.

Thank you so much for these asks! As you can tell I could probably go on for ages about these two and how much I love them, but I kept it fairly short :D

#fanfic writer ask #writer ask meme #dinluke #i just love them a lot okay #they're so good together #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker

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miceenscene · 4 years ago

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Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 2.3k / 9.8k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: canon-typical violence, lol does pining need a warning??

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Four: The Difference

It was as the hull door was slowly shutting behind them that Din realized he'd invited someone to join him on a semi-permanent basis.

It was as the hull door was slowly shutting behind them that Din realized he’d invited someone to join him on a semi-permanent basis.

He’d never done that before.

Ever.

Sometimes people were more passengers than quarry, but they never stayed before.

They always left.

Nia stayed.

It took some getting used to, having another person around.

Old habits had to be adjusted. His helmet now only came off in bed or the fresher.

Though once he did forget it till he was halfway across the hull, half-awake and scrounging through the ration bars to find the good ones. It took a boot scrape on the floor above him to remind him that there was another living thing aboard.

There was an undignified scramble back to the bed cubby, but the helmet was firmly in place before Nia appeared down the ladder.

Other habits were completely abandoned.

“Heading out?” Nia asked, looking up from her flight manual as the hull door dropped slowly open.

Din pulled a few hand grenades out of the armory and tucked them into his belt. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I’m coming with you.” She picked up her bo staff and the pistol that she’d taken from the Sergeant.

“There’s no need–”

“I’m not going to sit here and babysit an empty ship.”

“I work alone,” he hedged.

“You offered to help me. And since the only thing my mind seems to bother recalling is fighting, I’m sure as hell not going to let that slip out of my grasp too.” She crossed her arms and gave him a very obstinate look.

Out of habit, she got the usual treatment he gave people when they argued: silence.

It was laughably ineffective.

They just wound up staring at each other for several minutes in stubborn silence.

She’d stand there till the sun went down, he could feel it in his bones.

Call it a Match hunch, which did not technically exist but might as well have.

“Fine. But wherever I go, you go, understood?”

“Loud and clear.”

Her stubbornness didn’t stop once they were off the ship either.

A quarry got away from them for a full two days because they kept arguing about battlefield tactics.

They got the clawdite in the end. But only once they’d both apologized and made a new plan together.

And there was also the time she flew the ship without him.

Granted, he’d been knocked unconscious. And they did need to outrun the X-wings.

And for a woman who couldn’t remember where she was two moon cycles ago, she was a fair pilot.

If he didn’t care to use the ship ever again.

That dent in the hull wouldn’t come out no matter how many mechanics tried.

Even still, it seemed to take very little time at all before Nia’s presence was thoroughly expected and normal.

She seemed to… enjoy herself at times. And he did too, if he was honest.

Not that she wasn’t still deeply odd.

She spoke fluent mando’a, but fought like no Mandalorian he’d ever seen.

She could meditate for hours, and always seemed keenly aware of his exact location nearby when she did.

And then one evening, he came down from the flight deck, ready to climb into bed for some rest when he found her… contorted in the middle of the hull.

Her body was bent and stretched in ways he wasn’t previously aware that bodies could move.

Or at least move and still survive.

He watched as, without any hurry at all, she moved from one impossible pose to another; her breath and muscles in perfect control.

She could have made any of his old trainers proud with her self-mastery.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking his way.

His face heated under the helmet. He should have guessed this would be like her meditation.

“What are you doing?” he asked, moving to sit on a crate and pull off his boots.

She ended her routine by standing and bringing her hands pressed together in front of her chest and letting out one last long breath.

“I don’t know exactly. All I know is I feel restless if I don’t,” she said, turning around to face him. She patted his shoulder as she passed. “Sleep well.”

That happened often. Her touching him.

Even in the covert, even in his years of training back on Mandalore, no one had touched him so often.

And so casually too.

Like it was nothing at all for her to rest her arm on his shoulders as he demonstrated how to properly land the ship.

Or to sit so close to him when eating that her arm brushed his with every movement.

Maybe it was nothing at all to her.

But it was much more than nothing to him.

Her hands were all over him as she trained him in polearms, adjusting his grip, shifting the angle of his arms, urging him to relax the tension between his shoulder blades.

She held his hips to guide him through the weight transfer he kept overshooting, his face hot enough to melt his helmet clean off the entire time.

She quickly noticed how stiff he was around her. To his detriment.

He’d just been stepping around her in the flight deck.

Then suddenly a hand jabbed his rib cage.

He jumped, a strange noise cutting out of him as he did.

Nia broke immediately into a resounding laugh, pressing a hand to cover her mouth, doing a poor job of dampening the sound.

“I’m sorry!” she managed after a moment. “I–I didn’t know you’d… oh I’m s-sorry, Din.”

That was the first time he heard her laugh. It softened her blow considerably.

The second time he heard her laugh was when he retaliated two days later.

She leapt to the other side of the hull and was in a full fighting stance before she realized that he’d poked her.

Then she laughed again, making him laugh too, a smile beaming from under his helmet.

It happened somewhere when he wasn’t paying attention.

Somewhere between debating infiltration tactics and sparring, between knowing glances while Karga attempted to short-change them and long warm afternoons spent up in sniper’s nests, waiting for their quarry to return home…

She became his friend.

“I figured it out,” Nia said as she sat at the bar of a crowded cantina. She’d been sent in alone, semi-undercover as she was far less conspicuous than he was, to find their quarry. “An emergency induction tube. Then you can drink in bars with me and keep the helmet on.”

Outside in the alley, Din scoffed and spoke over the commlink in his helmet. “An emergency induction tube?”

“I have one now.”

He looked through the window to see her sip her drink through a straw. He chuckled then answered, “Still won’t work.”

She grunted, feigning annoyance. “‘Wherever you go, I go’ always seems to stop counting when it's time to relax.”

Under the helmet, he smiled.

“Do you have friends, Din?”

“What?” he asked over the commlink. Had he heard her right?

“I said, do you have friends? Been flying with you for a few months now, and I’m still waiting to meet them.”

“You met Ran and his crew.”

“You think Ranzar Malk and the rest of those criminals are your friends?” she asked, a little incredulously. “Didn’t Qin try to stab you during the last job?”

Technically, it was Xi’an who tried to stab him. “They’re… contacts.”

“So that’s a no on friends.”

He paused then said, “You’re my friend.”

Through the small vantage he had, he could see her smile down at her drink, eyes glancing just his way. His chest warmed.

“So one woman with a head like Corellian cheese. That’s… pretty good for a bounty hunter.”

“Same number you have right now.”

Her chuckle was low, sparking a single star burst high in his chest. “You have me there. Ah, found him. Target’s at the sabacc tables. I’ll flush him out into the alley.”

They had a good partnership. And he was happy to share most everything with her, what little amenities he could offer aboard The Razor Crest.

He didn’t realize she hadn’t been sleeping in the bed for weeks. Not until he came down from the flight deck early and found her curled in a corner of the hull, still using his cape as a blanket.

She didn’t seem to know where it had come from. And he certainly wasn’t going to inform her or take it back.

When he asked why she wasn’t using the bed, she said that it was his.

“It belongs to whoever’s sleeping,” he replied, firmly meaning it.

She took him at his word.

He hadn’t really been prepared, however, to crawl into the cubby after a long day and find that the whole space smelled like her soap.

She’d bought it in the first city they arrived in weeks back. Now it was all over his blankets.

Sea air. And wildflowers.

With the door to the cubby firmly shut, he slept with the helmet off that night…

And every night after, an unstoppable glow building in his chest.

Her memories, unfortunately, did not return. Or certainly not as fast as the droid made it seem like it would.

In several months, very little arrived.

Early childhood memories of Mandalore before the Great Purge. But no explanation of the control chip, or her skills.

She kept up a strong aloof appearance of her defect, but every so often, Din caught a glimpse of her despair hiding behind it.

They were in hyperspace, both working on small projects during the journey. He was outfitting one of his guns with a new scope, and Nia had taken to carving designs on her bo staff. It was turning into quite the fine weapon in her steady hands.

They’d been quietly working for a while when she started humming a low, slow tune. She didn’t even seem to be aware she was doing it.

Din looked up at her as her quiet song continued. Her curly dark hair twisted high on her head, back bowed over her staff in her lap as she deepend the etchings she’d done.

Her song wound back on itself and only then did she seem to realize what she’d been doing.

She looked up and sucked in a shaky gasp.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

She nodded, bottom lip quivering and eyes turning glassy. “My father used to sing that song,” she finally explained with a watery smile.

Though she couldn’t see, he smiled back, a tightness clenching high in his chest.

A bright fullness so wide it pushed out all the air in his lungs to make room.

He’d been feeling that a lot lately.

It wasn’t unpleasant, though it was annoying at times.

Especially when it showed up in the middle of a fight after Nia did something particularly skilled against her opponent.

It seemed to have no rhythm or source… besides her.

The galaxy was just different with her around.

It didn’t seem so soulless.

Perhaps because she noticed the small ignorable things.

Grabbing his arm to stop and watch street performers in a market he would have otherwise just passed through.

Pointing out the broad purple sweep of the planet’s rings through the night sky as they walked the quarry back to the ship.

Or perhaps because it was just simply nice to have someone around. Someone he enjoyed spending time with, someone who would have his back in danger, someone he trusted.

He knew what the star bursts high in his chest meant.

He wasn’t obtuse.

But there was a large difference between understanding and ready to admit, even just to himself.

Much less to her.

As for Nia, it took her several months to ask the inevitable.

He could feel her gearing up to ask something. Must be something pointed with how long her wind up was, nearly a full ration bar.

“Can I ask about your helmet?”

“No, you can’t wear it,” he answered, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning. He got a small smack on his arm for the answer, making him grin.

“I know that. I meant… your oath is to not show your face to another living being ever. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Not even your clan?”

He looked up now. “I don’t have a clan. I was a foundling.”

“But you could have one someday–unless that’s also part of the oath.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not part of it.”

Nia leaned forward, deadly serious. “So… say you have a spouse, or children, they’d never know your face?”

She sounded… sad, he realized after a moment.

He’d had plenty of questions about his helmet; it came with being a Mandalorian. But none before had ever looked at his helmet and seen tragedy.

Not even him.

“When I took the creed, I gave up my old life. The helmet is my face. That’s what it means to be Mandalorian.”

“But I knew my parents’ faces… and they were Mandalorian.”

No they weren’t, a voice not his own hissed in the back of his mind, nasty and cruel and he didn’t know where it had come from.

He shook his head. “I don’t know… but this is what I was taught. This Is The Way.”

She didn’t press it any further, but the quiet disagreement in her eyes stuck with him as he drifted to sleep, alone and helmetless in sea air and wildflowers.

Chapter 5: The Discovery

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#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin x ofc #the mandalorian #mando x you #Din Djarin fanfic #soulmate au #Star Crossed #my writing

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famouskittychild · 3 years ago

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Cheeky Mandos - ...and we're off

(Sorry I had a terrible writer’s block in the past 6-ish weeks - I went from reading fanfiction and being inspired by other’s visions to “I’ll never be able to write anything like these and I’m useless” in a single day :( I’m getting back into the groove finally, so I’m hoping to post more soon.)

There will be 18+ content (in the coming chapters soon) so if you are a minor, please don't read further.

Also the characters will be quite open and relaxed about things like gender, attraction, sexual activities, relationships etc, so if you prefer your Din (and their partner) possessive and/or monogamous , this won’t be a good read for you!

***

This pairing is Din Djarin x gn reader / tall reader. I’m short (and cis and woman). There’s so many short (and female) reader stuff out there, I wanted to write for people on the other end of the “why is your height not normal” / "definitely female" spectrum. If I make mistakes or you have advice, or ideas you'd like to see, please tell me!

Word count: 4267

Summary: You’re an armourer and some shiny guy just showed up.

First full piece/chapter/course! In which people seem to catch things. Thoughts? Viruses? Dropped facts? Who knows!?? Also contains a dilettante’s attempt at space electronics and some barely-canon-reminiscent Mando world-building. Still no spiciness sorry, marinating is a long process :P

Rating: T for some mentions of heavier topics.

CW: Mentions of mandalorian history, playing somewhat loose with canon lore (as in, my SW knowledge is patchy. sorry.)

Author’s note: I tried to find more info but it seems like the mandalorian alphabet doesn’t have names for the individual letters so I used aurebesh (also I liked the little Dorn(e) meta in there). And sorry for the bad puns. They’ll keep coming.

Prologue

One - ...and we're off

***

You aren’t worried about taking a stranger on board, you’ve done that plenty of times before. You hope he’s willing to put in the effort himself, too, just as he promised at the assembly.

The stranger leaves behind his ship, saying a friend will come to pick it up together with whoever might want to join the cause. You spot him from the cockpit as he walks over with a repulsor pallet in tow. He stops for a moment when your droids surge past him, busy at their pre-flight tasks, before moving on towards the ramp.

All his baggage is a satchel at his hip and a small bag on his shoulder, and two large crates of weaponry. You put him up in the spare cabin, the one that had been Sal’ee’s, your former apprentice, before she went on to be a journeyman. He stands in the middle of the room, staring at the two cots on opposite sides of the room, the lockers, the fresher in the corner.

“All mine? Where will you sleep?”

You don’t understand the surprise in his voice.

“Over there” you show him, pointing at the cabin opposite from his. It’s much more lived in, some of the blankets and trinkets and pillows visible through it’s open door. “There’s a third cabin that I mostly use for storage but has more fold-up bunks in case I need to transport more people. That’s rare though.”

“Ohh.” He nods, then turns to look around his room again. “Okay. I thought all of these rooms were cargo space.”

You smile, and quickly think through your to-do list. You’ll have to rearrange your schedule somewhat but it’s not that big of a bother.

“Come on, I’ll show you around the ship.” Before he gets lost in its cavernous interiors, you might add - but you don’t. If his reaction to a separate cabin and his current ship - an old ARC170 - is any indication, he must be used to very cramped quarters.

***

Your trusty Brick, a beat-up YV 929, is armed to the teeth and ugly, just as you like it. The ship is a scavenged one, gutted from most of its original factory issue armaments, engines, and even wiring. It was perfect for your former master when she found it at a scrap heap: she wanted to rebuild it herself, deliberately piecemeal; panels sourced form here, engines from there, concealments added. She modified the inner workings of the engines so that the power lines could be redirected to a concealed forge.

That forge is your pride and the main reason you haven’t settled at a permanent place yourself. When your master retired from travelling, the ship passed to you, and you continued her mission of offering your knowledge and expertise to those of your people who otherwise had no access to an armourer.

…

The next standard month is spent with adjusting, both for yourself after getting used travelling alone again since Sal’ee left, and for the stranger who found himself a passenger on someone else’s ship. Apparently he used to live a very similar life to yours, with the exception that he was a hunter not a craftsman.

You travel together, share meals, research the places you are directed to. He joins in the effort that is maintaining the ship. Still - he is very taciturn at the beginning, keeping his words to the bare minimum. The first few days it feels as if you are still on your own aside of your droids. By the middle of the month, he progresses from short answers, through sharing information, to willingly starting to tell stories; but you know that chatting will never be his defining feature.

His armour seems to fill the spaces of the Brick’s corridors. You feel as if it’s not him who has the presence, but that set of glinting, perfectly made handwork of an armourer you already admire. Some of the pieces were sourced elsewhere, you can tell by the different shapes and designs; they seem haphazard and mismatched compared to the rest. Most of the set is the work of a single person. On those, there’s not a single uneven line, a broken curve, an edge at the wrong place. The angle of the panes of the metal, the ridges, the simplicity and elegance of them all - you have to hold yourself back from touching them, to admire them. You would give a lot to hold those pieces in your hand, to study them, to analyse them with your eyes and hands and with your tools.

You’re a master, yes. But so much knowledge was lost. So many masters gone, with their knowledge and their workshops. Apprentices became heads of Forges in the absence of the more skilled. The survivors still to this day have to piece together half-remembered lessons and forgotten details, experiment with techniques that were known before but the methods got lost as decades of civil war and occupation and murder kept eroding your heritage.

Sometimes a set of armour comes along that is just made in a way you never had an opportunity to learn. Often the person who forged them is long gone. Not the stranger’s armourer though. As far you can tell, she’s alive. Or at least was, when he last saw her. Not too long ago; though your usual method for guessing forging dates is mostly useless as it is based on the condition of the suit’s paintwork. Which he doesn’t have, so you can only guess from the small amount of scratches. You try to ask once, but whilst he’s forthcoming with general stories, he doesn’t go into details.

It’s a common theme with him. He talks about people and planets and events, and leaves out a lot - and you don’t even notice it first. Only when you try to glean information about his armour do you realize how well he fuzzes over those facts and nuances. It’s only up to the peculiarities of Basic and its use of gendered pronouns that you know his Armourer is a woman, or at least he considers them so. He doesn’t even tells you his own name, and when you ask your Elder in one of your communications, she tells you he didn’t gave it to them either. You keep introducing him as a friend, and that is the end of it for a while.

***

The visits to this first few coverts with him are… interesting. You can see him fidgeting from the corner of your eye. He always follows half a step behind and off to a side, as if not wanting to be in your way. He keeps quiet and doesn’t mix much, and around small children and droids, he is positively withdrawn. He only comes alive when he talks about his mission.

You had learned early on during your apprenticeship that keeping the helmet on is a safe bet when meeting with unfamiliar mandalorians. That led to later getting in contact with his type of believers too, despite their notorious secrecy even from the rest of the People. When you tell the stranger about that, he immediately showers you with questions, but you can’t give an answer to most of them. You never met with anyone from his particular covert, or heard of it. No name, no description seems familiar. It’s painful to watch his shoulders slump after daring to hope.

During the course of the month spent travelling, he gradually comes to be more social. He starts to stand and walk beside you. He doesn’t withdraw to the background anymore; he can actually be quite chatty if approached the right way. Droids still make him stop, though he warms up to kids in his own way. He’s good with them, at least in your opinion, though you know some would still call him aloof and distant. He isn’t a cuddler, nor does he crouch down to ask cutesy questions. He juts sits nearby them, and in that way of children having a good sense about adults, they know he’s trustworthy. They go up to him to chatter, to hand him a toy to hold, to ask him to fix a latch on their boots; than they go back to play.

He teaches you too, inadvertently at first during everyday conversations and later by his own volition, about his Way. About his Creed. It keeps throwing you off how much it differs from most that you had met before. Not even meeting briefly with people who followed the same Way as him could prepare you for the details that he does share. The degree of strictness, the loyalty, the barest bones Old Tradition beliefs and their willingness to follow them is very rare amongst the People as far as you can tell. Their devotion earns your respect.

At other times, your jaw hangs open and you can’t believe you are talking to an adult roughly around the same age as yourself, who by his own admission had spent three decades living as a follower of the Creed - not knowing about things children are thought through plays and songtime. His ignorance is so staggering, your admiration towards his unknown Armourer wavers. How could she keep so many things hidden from them? Why not talk about your own history? Your greats? Your artefacts?

About the many other who would call them vod’e, siblings?

You are an armourer, a craftsman, a person who makes a living by making things with your hand. You’re not a leader, or a scholar, or someone who decides what to tell your people. You do have a status within the community, but that is a status of service. From what the stranger says, their Armourer was a leader in every aspect: elder and lorekeeper and moral guide and more. All in one. It is something you can see developing from the old songs and histories amongst groups who take tradition more literally.

You are good at observing people, even at copying their habits to make them feel more comfortable with you, but less good at determining their underlying motives. The reason you think of him as “the stranger” even after travelling with him is because it’s so hard to figure out what drives him. There’s a melancholy to him that overrides the more typical mandalorian fight-readiness or aggression. You see how he gazes off to the distance sometimes, turning his head to the side and freezing. How he keeps to himself when he can. But you can’t tell why. Grief? Regrets? Determination to change? Planning something greater and being preoccupied with that?

He doesn’t pick fights to test you. He spars with you when you invite him to, he helps when you ask, and often even without it. He’s polite and considerate; he keeps conversation to practicalities and interesting stories, and doesn’t bother you with anecdotes or insistent questions about trivialities or your private life. He even does the dishes.

He’s deadly boring in his reliableness.

You are used to being on your toes around people all the time. When you meet a new group, it’s all unknown people. With ones you had already visited, the problem is having to remember them. They remember you of course, the ‘wandering armourer’; and surely you remember them too.

What is worse, when people stay the same but you don’t remember them, or when they change and you just can’t place them?

He becomes a good excuse after you’ve been to several coverts together. It’s interesting to notice how your dynamics change even further once you two get into a comfortable routine. You start to retreat to your forge and tools, and let him take all the attention. And he doesn’t just talk about his mission anymore, or lets little ones play around him whilst he’s quiet. He converses with people about news, about their children, about weaponry. You have more time to focus on your work.

Sometimes, people ask you what do you think of his mission. You tell them that you will follow what your clan decides, and that’s mostly true. It is something people don’t often debate, at least.

He quickly becomes a part of your everyday life. You are content with your usually solitary travels. You know that your family, your clan and your friends wait for you at home. They message you and you can find the time that suits you to message back. You don’t miss the constant hubbub of the covert most of the time. But now that you have someone that is not a droid, someone who is your equal in every aspect, on board again, it’s not even lonely anymore.

***

“So what’s up with you and droids?” you ask one day, after you got back from a covert and are safely in hyperspace to the next destination. You tinker with your astromech’s navigational systems. Poor 2-T keeps bumping into walls and crates. Again.

The stranger looks at you and your droid, than over at Mouse who for a change isn’t zooming around at foot level.

“Bad memories.”

“Gunk sat on you?” You tease. You hope it’s just something silly and not him having some sort of snobbish organics-are-better philosophy. He is quiet, and you focus on your work. He’ll talk if he wants to, that much you know already about him.

Inside the body of your astromech, a rivet from stars knows where is stuck between two circuit boards and blocks the access to a short-circuited piece of wire.

“Kriff. Toots, this will take a while, sweetie. Can’t access that kriffing panel.” He chirps back something and you read the translation on the small display. “No, it’s not that. My hand can’t fit in that small space. Let me find those pliers… should be in that other drawer somewhere.”

You search in the chest of tools, and despite your usually good organization, you can’t find them amongst the droids’ tools where their place is.

“Let me help.” The stranger’s voice beside you makes you jump. He can be awfully quiet. “Sorry. I think I might’ve put them back into the wrong drawer. I used them the other day when I fine-tuned that scope.”

He points at another drawer, where you keep your fine electronics stuff. No wonder he mixed them up. He stands beside Tootee a bit awkwardly until you find the tool.

“Here! No problem by the way. “ You turn back to him and to the droid, than have an idea. “Do you mind a bit more help? You can say no if you don’t want to work with the droid, I’ll understand.”

He doesn’t object yet, so you go back to 2-T and show the stranger the area you’re working on. You see him lean closer in your peripheral vision.

“That’s where I need to get that burned piece of wire out and install a new one, but first, I need to get that rivet out of the way.” You point at the root of the problem, than explain your plan, pointing out each part in turn. ”If you could hold those using this, than I could get here, remove this, with that tool, than have to get those bundles out of the way too, so than that wire there could come out. Easy.”

You look up at him, and his helmet is way closer than you expected. You can almost see your reflection in that black visor as it stares back at you for a second, and you almost apologize again, when the stranger starts to speak.

“Just have to hold the wires to the casing, or pull them like…” he moves his hand in the air, showing what he means.

“Hold them to that panel, there, with the pliers, so I have room to access the rest.”

He thinks for a moment, than he starts to tug one of his gloves off.

“You don’t need to take that off, just hold the pliers” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“No, I can fit my hand in there, I’m pretty sure. If not we can try it with the tool.”

You realize that this is the first time you see his skin. Than it occurs to you that he might very well misunderstand this whole situation. You just asked him to hang his hand inches from yours in an enclosed space; inside a droid nonetheless, just after you basically told him you noticed he has a problem with them. It would be so easy to get caught up in there, to touch his hand, and hush it up as coincidence. Especially now that he took his glove off as well. He might even think that it was a careful plan of yours: have an area to work with were your slightly larger hands don’t fit but his might.

Your fingertips already tingle from knowing you can’t make mistakes. Which means you’ll probably do. He reaches between the panels and gets to the part where you got stuck. He wiggles his fingers a bit and scrapes around.

“Ha, found some wires. Are these the ones you need out of the way?”

You peer down into the quagmire of electronics, trying to find the best angle to see everything.

“Yes, those are the ones. Just hold them like that.” You try to focus on what you are doing, but after those earlier thoughts, your hands are jittery. You somehow manage to remove the obstructing rivet, than find the burned out part and replace it without accident, the stranger patiently holding things out of your way. You direct him here and there, occasionally stumbling as it’s a lot of instructions, or at least a lot of “could you please” and “thank you”. It gets particularly awkward when you stumble over the lack of name spectacularly.

“Could you pull those the other way, so they aren't that taut, please? Thank you, you. I mean thank you.”

“Din. Din Djarin.” Your head snaps up while the rest of your body freezes. “I should have told you my name sooner, but I’m so used to not telling it… and it just became more awkward to bring it up as time passed. I apologize.”

You close your mouth that of course was hanging open in surprise, than shake your head.

“I thought at first that I missed it when you said it so I was ashamed that I didn’t remember.” That did happen before, and it was one of your greatest worries about meeting new people. “I actually asked my elder. Sent her a comm. So when she told me you went nameless, I didn’t wanted to demand it.”

He doesn't answer right away. His voice is softer when he speaks a bit later.

“Thank you. For being considerate.”

You smile and try to wave it off. Which results in your hand slipping and pawing at his, still motionless and stuck in the inside of the astromech.

“Oh shucks, I’m sorry… didn’t meant to.” You withdraw your hand quickly, and start to look for your tools to cover your mistake.

He doesn’t seem bothered, luckily. You calm down, reminding yourself not to behave like you drank one too many glasses of your cousin Ree’s home-made tihaar, and finish the repair.

“You can let those go now, I’ll finish from here. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome, any time.”

He sits back on a nearby crate and watches you work for a while, ignoring Mouse zooming around the room. You’re surprised a bit: you didn't expected him to stick around. And than he starts to ask about 2-T. How long you had him, is he temperamental, can you install a vocoder on astromechs, and why not. His tone is somewhat cautious, his voice stiff, like someone asking about a dangerous predator. You remember how you asked him about his distance with droids, but don’t want to push that question. He already told you his name today.

…

By the time you finish with the rest of the repairs, clean Tootee up and tidy around your workplace, interrupted by having to leave hyperspace and land at a spaceport, it’s the middle of the night in local time. You planned to have a nap and search out the local covert just before dawn.

You go to the galley to have a bite before turning in, and the stranger - Din, you remember, although his last name is less clear - is cleaning up some dishes. There’s another bowl in the middle of the small table, covered by a plate.

“That’s for you, if you’d like to have it. Used up the last of that spice mix we got” he tells you as you enter. You sit down and stretch your legs out one side. As you take the plate off from the steaming bowl, you think about how nice it is to find warm food on the table and not having to cook your own all the time.

“Thank you.” You pull the bowl close and take the spoon that he put beside it. You swirl the soup - it looks very good: clear broth with lots of veggies and other fillers in it - and gather your thoughts. “So ummm… I want to ask something before it gets awkward again.“

He finishes piling the bowls and cups and sits down on the seat opposite. You blurt the question out before you might change your mind.

“What was your name again? Din, that was clear, but the rest… sorry but it sounded something like “jarring”?”

He chuckles, and it’s a clear sound even with a vocoder, no snort or sigh to distort it.

“It’s Djarin. Dorn-jenth-aurek-resh-isk-nern. Djarin.” You nod, a bit embarrassed, and he continues. “Don’t worry, you aren't the first to ask. Probably not the last either.”

“Thanks for being patient. I’m not the best with names, to be honest.”

He tilts his head.

“Is that why you are always so focused when someone introduces themselves? I can ask them to repeat their names for me too if you want to, than both of us can try to remember them.”

You blink at him.

“That’d be…” Unnecessary, and don’t bother, and it’s not your job, you think - but stop yourself. That would actually help. No shame in accepting it. ”That would be nice. Thanks.” You are good at a few things, like making things with your own two hands. Not gaping when something surprises you, or remembering faces or names, any names, not just people? Nah.

You tuck into your soup, and the two of you sit in companionable silence. You wander if Djarin sits there because he wants to, or if he’s waiting for more questions from you. You asked a lot from him during the last few hours, and he was really kind with all his help and telling you his name and not being bothered when you misremembered it.

You are halfway done with your meal when he stirs. He leans forward with his lower arms on the table, and takes a deep breath. You wonder what his question will be - you commit to answer whatever it might be. He deserves that after today.

“So you asked earlier about me and… droids, right?”

Your hand with the spoon stops in the air. You weren’t expecting this question, at all.

“Yes…” You want to say he didn’t have to answer. But you already told him that. You’re sure he remembers that too - since he brought the topic up again. “Yes, I did.”

He shuffles on his seat a bit, and looks out to the side like he sometimes does. You lower your spoon and eat, letting him gather his thoughts.

“When I was a kid… I don’t know how old you were then, but during the war. The Clone wars.” You nod, understanding what he’s getting at, and he continues. “We were… the place I lived came under attack. Some separatist battle droids. Mandalorians saved me.”

You swallow your soup. That was the shortest possible description of someone having their entire life and probably everyone they knew ripped away from them and finding a new way of life for the decades to come.

“I’m sorry” you say, because really, what else is there to say. He nods, and gazes off again. Than he shrugs his shoulders, as if he wants to shake the weight of the past from them.

He gets up, and walks around the table on his way out. He stops beside you for a moment and hesitates, and you almost turn towards him to ask what he needs when you feel him squeeze your shoulder. Than he straightens and steps away.

It’s warm where he squeezed it, and you remember how long ago it was that someone touched you.

You need to talk to your friends asap, and hug at least some of them. He turns back from the door.

“Get some sleep before dawn, all right? Have to be sharp to remember all those new names.” You don’t see him wink but you’d bet he does behind his visor. You scrunch your nose at him and pout before smiling, and he dips out of the galley.

Your hand is still hovering in the air, holding the spoon, while you listen to his footsteps getting more distant as he walks down the corridor to his cabin.

It’s just your luck that you don’t need your wits the next place. It’s only two people with the same, simple name and you met both of them before.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x tall reader #din djarin x gn!reader #post season 2 #mandalorian oc #armourer oc #cheeky mandos #my writing

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spookyold-saintjm · 5 years ago

Text

Promises

Mandalorian x female reader

Part 16 of the Pilot series [Masterlist]

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex & sexual situations (non-explicit), canon-typical violence/death, angst. Din might break your heart in this one and I’m apologizing in advance.

a/n: Hope everyone is doing as well as you can right now! Some of you might have seen a post on uh...how this one was originally going to start BUT I had a different string of ideas so we’ll hold off on THAT for another time ;) Anyway, this one is pretty damn sad ngl. I will try to make it up with something soft next chapter.

Also, @magichandthing (who seems lovely!) made this amazing and beautifully SAD art that showed up on my dash while I was writing this chapter and it was just...too on point, so I feel like it was a sign to share it. Love you all so much! x

—

Din had offered his bed to you in the past, more than once, knowing you’d be more comfortable there. Through quiet, staggered insistence, he’d claimed that he didn’t sleep much, anyways. The bunk in his quarters was, admittedly, not much better than the cot where you typically rested your head, but it was a bit bigger and at least had an actual layer of intended comfort instead of simply a flat surface extended from the wall of the Crest.

You’d always refused out of respect for allowing him a true space of secluded privacy with the small confines of the ship, a space you never intruded upon. After a while he had stopped asking, seemingly resigned to your stubbornness on the matter.

However, if the offer had meant he would be joining you, your bodies bare and flush against each other in a hazy tangle of limbs, with the sounds of months of pent-up emotion and longing emerging and echoing off the walls for far longer than perhaps either of you had intended…you might have agreed a bit sooner.

Despite this, you’d still meant to silently retreat back to your bunk once you were both were wholly spent and your eyes fought to stay open in the darkness. That was how this sort of thing had always worked before…not that anything had ever been even remotely comparable to this.

But Din, although he hadn’t moved for some time, had pulled you back onto him in one swift, sudden motion as you were halfway standing.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, contented exhaustion somewhere between the realm of sleep and waking layering over his deep voice against your ear.

You’d been taken aback at first by his request, momentarily frozen in place, but a calm warmth spread through you as you found yourself folding into him. It was the last word spoken before you both fell victim to the beckoning slumber.

A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of life elsewhere in the ship: a low voice between some occasional soft thuds and clinks, and perhaps a faint squealing sound that had you reaching out an arm beside you.

“Din?” You asked through the hoarse voice of someone fresh to the day. You kept your eyes closed as you turned and felt for him, but you found the opposite side of the bed, his bed, cool and empty. “The kid…”

You called his name out again, waiting for a response before you were so much as tempted to open your eyes. When you were still greeted with only silence, you rubbed at your eyes before finally blinking them open, squinting at the adjustment of the dim light in the room.

It was…strange to wake up here. Especially with Din nowhere in sight. You hadn’t expected to lazily wake to a soft morning wrapped in his arms, by any means, and you understood the level of trust it took for him to leave you by yourself in his space...but you couldn’t help but feel the drop in your stomach at the fact that you were alone. Though you wondered why; this was how this normally went, wasn’t it? Waking up on your own.

No…this didn’t seem like that. Din wasn’t like that. Or, perhaps he was; you’d been fooled by people before. As far as you had seen, outside of his covert, Cara, and Karga out of necessity, he didn’t seem to have any notable relationships with others.

Except for you. Technically he was your employer, you supposed…but that had never seemed right to say. Come to think of it, you’d never considered him as even a friend. He was just always…Mando. Then Din. Someone who’d arrived in your world, who you had spent months of your life with in closer contact than you’d ever spent with anyone for such a length of time, taking jobs and repairing and upgrading the ship and trying to find a way to get a small, peculiar and very much sought-after child back home. Din was someone whose presence felt like it was meant to just exist alongside your own.

It was a dangerous thought. And the idea of it continued to chip away at the walls you’d tried so hard to keep held up inside your chest, its persistence only growing with every passing time that you caught each other’s pondering, longing stares.

You felt your skin prickling with the distinctive sense that someone was watching you, and turned to see Din standing in the doorway, fully dressed in Mandalorian armor.

Minus his cape, which was draped over your otherwise bare body. The texture of it between your fingers gave you pause as you made the silent discovery; he must have covered you with it at some point in the night, as the thin sheet over his bad was instead carelessly bunched up halfway under you.

“Hi,” you said simply as you propped yourself up on an elbow, not knowing what else to say as his gaze then gripped yours, your skin suddenly warm as he looked back at you.

Din felt as if he were pinned in place. “Hey.”

You blinked softly back up at him, and it suddenly struck him that he’d been staring. Because you were…there. Like that.

He started to turn away. “I should—”

“No.” You stopped him, but you cursed yourself at the extra hint of urgency tacked onto your voice. Din must have noticed it too, because his head was cocked ever so slightly to one side when he glanced back in your direction.

“It’s okay,” you quickly added to clarify. You stretched your legs out along the bunk as you rose into a seated position, taking his cape up along with you and holding it with one arm across your chest. “What is it?”

Din’s turned back to face you, taking a few steps further into the room. You swung your legs around so that they were draped off the side of the bunk by the time he stood closer to you.

His shoulders visibly tensed, “Are you...” A rare hesitation wrapped itself tight around his voice, his words sticking in his throat as the air circulating through his helmet grew impossibly hot. “Did—did I…?”

You shook your head and answered before he could finish, with a gentle smile in mercy to his pained attempt to ask you if were okay. So he, too, wasn’t used to people who stayed. Who wanted him to stay. “I’m fine.”

Although when you’d sat up, you’d definitely felt the pressure of light bruises kneaded into your hips, and Maker only knew what attempting to walk would be like. But those were details you chose to kept silent.

Din nodded once, the action appearing almost too formal. A beat of silence passed between you, another moment’s hesitation as he fought to shift his thoughts from being flooded over with how you looked in that moment: hair untamed, a softly glowing face and slightly tired but calm eyes that blinked back at him with a quiet patience as you waited for him to say whatever he’d originally come into the room to tell you.

“Cara agreed to take the child today,” he stated.

You you turned your head back to one side, slightly narrowing your eyebrows at him. “Why?”

“…I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him with us.”

“Take him wh—oh.” You fell silent when you realized what he meant.

He wanted you to come with him, then. To the covert’s hiding place. Well, where it had been. He’d said the night before that he wanted to see it one last time…and now he wanted you with him.

You breathed out a small sigh as you studied him while he stood across the room from you, hands at his sides, knowing he wasn’t entirely meeting your eyes in that moment.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

Din slowly tipped his head. “Only if you want to.”

You swallowed, your voice tight when you answered him. “Of course.”

Before either of you could say more, the sound of a loud clang followed by a series of quick, shrill chirps met your ears. You quickly stood, pulling Din’s cape tighter around you and took a few instinctive steps toward the door as another crashing sound echoed through the ship.

Din sighed, his head turned toward the direction of all the noise. “I guess he’s finished eating.”

You smiled then at the tired fondness in his tone; the thought of the child seemed to make the space around you both pleasantly warm.

A final, lingering glance passed between you, and that warmth threatened to transform into a dull heat just before Din was suddenly off investigate what the child had gotten into.

You stood looking through the doorway until he was out of sight, and a moment longer after that, biting on your bottom lip as you attempted to sift through the thoughts running through nearly every direction in your mind.

The way Din had made an effort not to get too close to you, how he had seemingly avoided your eyes when he spoke…it was a deliberate distance, a blinding contrast to how things had been just hours before, when you’d both practically begged to be as close to each other as possible under the cover of darkness.

Things were different in the daylight. They always were. But you were no longer certain whether to be thankful for it or dispirited by it.

—

After you’d gotten ready for the day, you idly worked on a small project at the space in the corner of the lower deck you’d long ago set aside to stash materials and parts for repairs and upgrades for the Crest. Despite the fact that the child had already eaten breakfast, his ever-growing appetite meant he was still hungry, and you were splitting with him the last of a container of fresh berries, originally meant just for you, as you worked. He reached to curiously pick up a spare part that rested by your knee, but you were quick to snatch it away.

“No way, sticky-hands,” you said, not taking your eyes off your work. The child just giggled, probably because he knew you were right; he couldn’t resist squishing what seemed like nearly every other berry between his hands before eating whatever remained off his tiny claws.

However, when his giggling shifted into a low hum, a sound that typically meant he wanted your attention for something more important, you were quick to shift away from the parts rested in your lap to look down at him as he sat at your side.

You met his eyes. Yes?

He slowly turned his head, looking over toward the closed hatch of the ship. Where Din had disappeared out of a short while before. When he looked back to you, he blinked once, twice, his head tilted to one side. A question.

Din hadn’t said much of anything to you since you’d first spoken that morning, and while it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to be so quiet, you couldn’t help but wish he would just say something. The lines between you were blurred now, a looming uncertainty over what all that had happened the night before even meant, if anything.

How the hell the child had at least some hint of something being amiss between you, you had no idea. You never understood how he always seemed to know much more than you would have expected. But your unique way of communication with each other had taken a sudden turn in that exact direction.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You replied with a short shake of your head. You turned back to your work, not sure if you wanted to see what his eyes would tell you. But you could hear it, could feel it when he tried to press further. And that might have been worse, because the question he asked was weighted with far more than you’d thought the child might have even been capable of understanding.

“I—I think he’s...great.” You answered, trying to keep your voice level and the warmth away from your cheeks. “I still like being here.” Understatements, almost to the point of lies.

The child made a couple quiet chirps, commanding your eyes on him again. His ears flicked up, then down again as his lips pursed slightly out at you. It was enough to make you chuckle under your breath as you reached to scratch the top of his fuzzy head.

“Yes. I still like you too, you nosy thing,” you sighed, moving then to pet behind one of his long ears before you teasingly, lightly pinched its pointed tip. “I know you're going to use this against me later somehow.”

The child’s toothy grin and squinted eyes back at you was a horrible attempt of displaying innocence, and it made you roll your eyes in the midst of your quiet laughter.

Din returned a short while later, following behind Cara after letting her inside the ship. She took a moment to walk around, making small nods of approval as she took in the changes that had occurred since she’d last been inside.

“Gotta hand it to you,” she looked over to where you still sat in the floor, now cleaning the sticky blues and purples of berry juice off the child’s face and hands, “You’ve got this place looking pretty damn good.”

A smile twitched on the corner of your lips as you shrugged in teasing dismissal. “It’s my job, y’know?”

You could feel Din’s eyes on you, now standing behind Cara. You glanced over to him, your smile remaining as a form of silent greeting. He didn’t budge.

Instead, he simply watched as the child fidgeted in your arms, until you finally finished wiping him down and set him loose. He immediately toddled toward Cara, babbling up at her until she eventually sighed and bent down to pick him up. She kept him a few inches away from her body at first, holding him out as he continued to coo at her, until finally he reached out to grab at the long side of her hair and she had no choice but to tuck him into her opposite site, clearly holding back a laugh.

But Din was far more focused on you, this time. He hadn’t wanted to look away from you at all, hadn’t wanted to leave what he’d woken up to. But he’d realized that morning that the very thing you’d both confessed to wanting, had acted on the night before…it left too thin of a barrier between you. It was something he didn’t know how to navigate. Because it hadn’t been just anyone. It had been you.

You weren’t someone who just…left. Or someone who would transform him into a dark shadow of himself that he didn’t recognize, only then to leave him behind. He’d faced that before, and that wasn’t you. He wanted to believe that. Did believe it, didn’t care if it was against his better judgement.

He never dared to show fear, but he was afraid. Afraid of what crossing the barrier that still lingered between you would mean, because he couldn’t keep his promise to protect you if it disappeared. The same as how he couldn’t claim the child as entirely as his own, at least not until he knew for sure that there was nowhere else better, safer in the galaxy for him to go.

Because the people closest to him were always the first to lose their lives.

And allowing that to happen would be the absolute last thing he would ever do.

—

The heat of the early afternoon had made the tunnels hot and layered with a touch of humidity that hit you almost instantly as you entered and followed behind Din down the curving staircase, Cara and the child left behind at her home just outside of town.

Din stopped after dropping from the final step, and the soft thud of your boots made a small echo as you stepped down beside him.

The tunnels were an intricate maze, the long halls and curving turns for the most part appearing to look near identical to one another as you’d learned the first time you’d been inside them, after Moff Gideon’s attack.

Yet you knew Din had the layout memorized, was perhaps running through it in his head as he decided where to go first. When he moved, you followed a step behind, silence looming in the space between you as he led the way.

The last time Din had been here, he was injured, lightheaded and weak from what had so far been his closest encounter with death. He’d pleaded with Cara, with Karga and the droid and with you, to leave him behind. To let him go.

Yet, he was still here.

As he looked around the dull, empty halls, hardly a sign of the life that once existed among them, a near-silent but persistent voice digging into the back of his mind wanted to ask him why.

And, as always, he was quick to push it back.

Din was unreadable as you followed behind him, like whatever door had been opened just enough for you to feel even a hint of his emotions the night before had been completely shut and locked tight. He said nothing, didn’t so much as look back in your direction as you, too, surveyed the scene around you.

The occasional few belongings, blasters, scraps of metal, bags, capes, even a few books lingered in scattered places along the way, into small rooms and side-tunnels. Some spaces Din walked by with only a glance and others his steps slowed, lingering but never completely stopping. You had questions, of course. Plenty of them. But you would wait for Din to explain, if he decided to.

You hadn’t been paying much attention the last time you’d been there, focused on little else beyond getting out and getting to safety. But now you had an opportunity to truly look around at what had for quite some time been Din’s home, at least as far as you understood it. You had gathered that perhaps he wasn’t there too terribly often, as he was often away on various jobs, but regardless it was the place he always came back to. It struck you then, the trust Din had in you to bring you here, to show you something so intimate and quietly, deeply tucked tight into his heart. This had been his one true and hidden safe space in the midst of an unforgiving galaxy.

But now, it was only a shell of a life, of many lives, that had once existed there. The entire place felt hollow. Haunted. Just how the Empire had always left everywhere and everything they touched.

The thought made your chest ache.

Eventually you reached a sharp curve at the end of the hall, and Din paused for the first time since you’d begun your venture below. He stared straight ahead, and you could just barely see the rise and fall of his chest as his breaths seemed to grow longer, heavier. Whatever was around the corner must have been something he felt the need to prepare himself for.

You reached for him slowly, turning in toward him and laying a hand lightly against his arm. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to fill the space with your voice in a place where it didn’t belong.

He looked down at you, a silent expression of appreciation at your gesture, before he began to walk again. You dropped your hand and followed him at his side, around the corner and into an open, circular room.

There were a few steps leading down into the rooms entrance, thus making the ceiling higher in the wide space. Lining the edge of the room were carefully spaced standing torches. A symbol that you immediately recognized was the same one that the child now wore around his neck on a string tucked beneath his robes was, though very much faded, painted in white in the center of the space. Otherwise, like everywhere else, the room was dim and mostly bare. It was clear that this was a place that had been designated for something special, something important to the people who had lived here, and you chose to remain at the foot of the steps as Din moved further inside.

It was the only room that displayed a blatant evidence of the covert's presence in the maze beneath the town, a room that taught and commanded the utmost respect for Mandalorian culture. It was the space devoted to foundlings—their education, their eventual acceptance and integration into the covert, into the Creed...and the training that followed. It was a place of ceremony, of blood, sweat, and tears, of hardship and pride. And one that Din might have found himself venturing into more often than he realized when he would return from his various jobs throughout the system.

The girl’s face brightened, even through her tears, as she saw Din standing at the foot of the steps. He’d heard a strange noise echoing from the space, though it should have been empty at that time of day, and had gone to investigate. The young girl had been crouched on the ground, knees tucked in tight as soft sobs tumbled from her chest.

She stood and practically sprinted over to Din, her tears flowing freely again.

He had come to recognize each one of the foundlings individually, as everyone in the covert was highly encouraged to do so, although he knew none of their names. It was a closeness he did not afford himself with them. With much anyone, really.

Din had crouched down to her level before she reached him, her green eyes blurred with pink from crying, and dark brown hair falling out of the tiny, yet messy knot atop her head. She couldn’t bring herself meet his stare through the visor, and instead kept her head down and focused on an insignificant spot on the ground.

For some reason wholly unknown to him, the foundlings adored him. They were always practically nipping at his heels when he returned to the covert, asking various questions about his most recent job or his life, or floating off into stories of things they had accomplished while he had been away. Maybe it was because he was one who they all knew as one who worked so hard to provide for them, maybe it was because they knew they could fluster him fairly easily because he didn’t know how to deal with them and they loved to give him a hard time every now and then. Or maybe, it was because he listened far more than he spoke, and they knew they could tell him whatever they wanted or needed to say.

So, as always, Din waited for the foundling girl to speak first.

“I cannot do it,” she mumbled, her voice thick with the accent of her people from whom she had been raised the first few years of her life before she’d ended up with the covert not too long before that afternoon. “Everyone is better than me. I lost every round today.”

Din waited a moment, to see if she would say more, and simultaneously tried to quickly sort his thoughts into something that might help. Crying wasn’t something he dealt with particularly well.

He noticed a row of small, fresh scrapes against the girl’s knuckles as she rubbed her hands together, and when she had failed to say anything else, Din gently gestured to them. “Looks like you tried really hard.”

The girl’s nods were quick as she subconsciously reached to rub at her knees. “Yes. But I fell. A lot.”

He paused to consider her words. “Did you get back up?”

Another sniffle and a wipe across her nose with an arm. “Uh-huh.”

“Then you can keep trying.”

He never knew if the words he spoke to them would ever really mean anything, but the girl finally looked up to him, her puffy eyes softening in what seemed to be understanding as she nodded again and began to wipe her tears with the backs of her hands.

Din gave her a firm, but assuring nod.

“This is the Way.” He said to her, both as an encouragement and what he hoped would be a dismissal once he was standing again.

The girl straightened, setting her shoulders back as she returned his nod. “This is the Way.”

Before Din could even process what was happening, the girl had wrapped her arms tight for around his leg in a flash of a moment, then pulled away before running off behind him to presumably reunite with the other foundlings he’d seen rushing through the adjacent tunnel just a few minutes before.

He sighed when he turned around and saw that, as had happened many times before, the small ribbon of fabric holding up her hair had fallen loose from her head and fluttered to the ground.

A ribbon that he was staring at now, as it brushed against the tip of his boot near the center of the room.

The foundlings.

Oh, gods. The foundlings.

Din dropped to his knees.

The clang of the beskar and various gear he wore on his legs sharply echoed through the chamber. You were paralyzed at first, scanning over him from where you stood with his back to you for any sign that he was somehow hurt.

Then you saw it; the subtle upward jerk that traveled through his back and up to his slouched shoulders.

A silent sob.

You went to him then, dropping down onto your knees next to him without a second thought.

Aside from the brief moments of panic he’d displayed just before you’d escaped down into these tunnels months before, you had never seen Din show any sign of strong emotion beyond his occasional temper toward a bounty. Not joy, definitely not sadness. You weren’t even sure if he had the capacity for it.

Yet here he was, his hands curled into fists as they rested on this thighs, his head tilted down deep. You could just barely hear the trembling in his breath as he sucked in a gasp of air, and the short, tight huff that followed.

You remained silent, though you couldn’t resist the overwhelming need to reach for him, to take one of his hands, softly holding the tight clench of his fingers between both of your palms. You felt his fist tighten beneath your touch. Although you knew that maybe you should have waited, should have allowed him to let out his pain alone…the pull that came from somewhere deep inside you, furiously drawing you to him, had been far too great for you to ignore.

He breathed in deep again, his exhale shaky. You looked to him as he finally spoke.

“They’re gone.”

His voice sucked the air from your own lungs; you’d never heard anything so broken.

In that moment, Din was truly processing all of this for the first time. You imagined that the sight of beskar armor and helmets carelessly heaped in a pile on your journey here before would have been enough to cut deep in him, and while you were certain it had…Din was very much the type to lock things away. To let his emotions have a brief, silent moment and then immediately store them somewhere else. The thought of the loss of his covert had to have crossed his mind, time and time again during your travels, but his strict discipline kept any semblance of mourning over it at bay. It was now that the dam had finally broken, that the full weight of the loss crashed down around him, leaving you helpless to watch and wait for its end alongside him.

You wouldn’t tell him it was okay. Because it wasn’t. You knew better than most anyone else that it wasn’t okay, and there was nothing you could do to remedy it except to remain beside him.

The door that he had shut tight within him had flown open, and you could feel the heaviness of the loss, the anger and the sorrow that pulsed in him, around him, your hands over his connecting you to his feelings on an even greater level than you’d ever experienced before. Never, never had you been able to feel anyone’s pain in this way, had never felt anyone else's emotions in this way at all. Your lungs constricted, and against your will tears had formed and settled in your own eyes.

“It’s my fault.” Din’s words broke through in a voice hardly over a whisper. “I did this.”

Guilt. The guilt was what you felt the most, what wrapped itself around him the hardest. You could sense that it had lingered somewhere dark and hidden for a long time, far before the time you had known him, and it only crept out in rare moments such as the night before. But now, now it was free and threatening to eat him alive.

“It’s—” you started, but had to swallow down the tightness in your throat before you could say more. “It’s not your fault, Din.”

Another near-silent gasp. “You don’t—” he breathed out a short, wet sigh. “Every home I’ve had, everyone…they’re all gone. And I couldn’t stop any of it.”

So it was more than the covert. You knew enough of how Din had lost his first home, and his parents; bits and pieces of the story had slowly emerged during quiet moments in hyperspace, at night once the child had fallen asleep while you disassembled and cleaned weapons. You knew that his home as a young foundling has also been attacked and destroyed, which had eventually led to the covert’s home in the tunnels beneath Nevarro, where they had remained safe and hidden for years upon years following.

Until Moff Gideon’s return. Until even this home was taken from Din, too.

“You were a child,” you said softly, slipping one of your hands away from his. You let it hover over his back, considering before you finally settled to gently rest your palm flat against the space just below his shoulder. Din didn’t stiffen, didn’t pull away, but simply allowed your touch to remain. “And this…there’s no way you could have known. None of that is your fault.”

He slowly lifted his head to face you. It was one of fleeting the moments in which you greedily wished you could see his eyes, just for a second. So you could read them, you could meet them without a barrier and speak directly through them all the things that your mouth wouldn’t allow you to say.

Din felt everything and nothing all at once. Anger at himself, not only for letting these things happen, but for letting someone see him in a state like this, weakness that he’d never dared reveal to anyone since he’d sworn the Creed. Sorrow for the realization that, even if some of the covert had by some miracle managed to escape, so many, so many had still been lost. And he had no way of even beginning to find whoever might remain. If they remained. Helplessness, because even though he told himself he’d never, ever let it show that it was something that affected him in even the slightest, he was alone.

But when he finally looked at you…it made things different. Because he wasn’t alone on this course he’d suddenly been set on just a few months before. And the blinding fear that he would be hopeless to stop something from happening to you or the child was threatening to tear him apart right in front of you. What good was a promise that he would protect you both if he wasn’t capable of fulfilling it?

“Talk to me,” you finally whispered, curling your fingers tighter in reassurance over his hand. It was almost desperation, but you needed to hear him say something. Had to capture even a fragment of an idea of what he was thinking.

You caught the slightest shake of his head before he spoke. “You, and the kid, you’re all I…” He took a near-shuddering breath. “If something happens to him, to you…I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

The last words gave you pause. You knew that Din would give his life without question for the child if it came down to it. But for him to even think to care about you in such a way that it would hurt him so much to lose you…

It was the very same way you felt about him.

Any other doubts, any words yet to be spoken or anything else between you were either proved wrong or simply didn’t matter in that moment. Not any more.

You moved, turning so that your knees nearly touched, and you could look at him face-to-face. Or at least, as close as you could get to it. You reached for his other hand, encouraging him to separate his fists and instead wrap his fingers around yours.

“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere. I made that choice for myself.” You blinked away the tears that again threaten to blur your vision. “I’m going to see this out with you. We’re going to get him home. And if we don’t…then, it’s like you said. We’ll figure something else out.”

You forced a small smile. “Besides, the credits you owe me for all this work are really starting to stack up.”

Din breathed a huff of a weak laugh, in utter disbelief at you. At what his life had become.

There were more words to be said, questions to be asked. They lingered just beneath the surface and begged to be spoken, to be made real. But it wasn’t the time for them. Not yet.

You sat for a moment, looking to each other in silence. You slowly felt the heaviness of the room lift, until Din breathed out a sigh, no longer struggling for air.

“We should keep going. I want to make sure nothing important was left behind.”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. While the pain you had felt from him didn’t vanish, it seemed to lighten then, to tuck itself away into a space where it could reside a bit more peacefully. You hoped that would remain true.

You were alone in the world, had been for some time. And while you knew deep down that you probably shouldn’t allow yourself to feel it, being with Din and the child had maybe made things a little less lonely. At least for now, taking care of the child and ensuring his safety bound the two of you together. Once that was gone, once Din had fulfilled his duty of reuniting him with his people...not only would you be alone, but so would he.

You silently made a promise to yourself then, too, unbeknownst to the Mandalorian who knelt across from you in that moment. A promise that, whatever it meant when the time came, you wouldn’t let him be alone. You wouldn’t leave him until you knew he wouldn’t have to feel that pain again. Even, if he wanted, that meant that you didn’t leave at all.

Din slowly rose to his feet. You followed behind, one of his hands still wrapped around yours as he helped you from the ground.

And as you made your way out of the room, he didn’t let go.

—

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#the pilot #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fic #mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #hope you aren't too sad now #if you have any questions or thoughts or theories let me have em!#also let me know if there's anything you wanna see with these two because i'm always planning new drabbles and such #love you all sm

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