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penvisions · 8 months ago

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

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

Summary: Din Djarin is not a remorseful man. Everything he's done, he's done for a reason. But he finds himself in an internal struggle as he tears through the galaxy for traces of you.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, use of narcotics, use of drugs, reader gets drugged, reader gets kidnapped, reader gets tied up, kidnapping, controlling parent, toxic parent / child relationship, toxic parent / child dynamic, din has a lot of feelings, din reflects on his time spent with reader, death, minor character death, infectious thoughts, negative feelings, feelings of inadequacy, issues with intimacy, religious guilt, feelings of religious obligation, religious contemplation, so much guilt for our tin man, violence, derogative language, insinuations of sexual favors, a few instances of shouting, din loses his hold on reality (1) time, references to past instances of self-harm, references to past instances of suicidal ideations, let me know if i missed anything please!

A/N: an all din pov chapter, baby! who's ready for ten thousand words on how this man feels? this was a fun different way to approach the story and i rather liked it even if i am afraid to post it. there are so many different interpretations of din that are all so great, and while this is my personal one for the character in my fic, i'm still worried about how it'll be received

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Mother, please.” You begged, voice absolutely wrecked. Desperation settled in your gut, making you dizzy and nauseous. The illness of it was debilitating even through the hum of drugs waning in your system. Sobs were wracking your body, exploding from your ribcage in painful bursts. You struggled against the cuffs on your wrists, the cuffs around your ankles, rotating them in hopes of finding weakness but they were strong. But they were made of beskar, strong and programmed to shock you should you jostle them too much. Using the culture of the very people who had meant salvation now for damnation. She had made sure they would hold you this time.

She just sat there, watching you from the chair by the door. Long hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, blue tunic and black trousers flowing and clean. Her hands clasped in front of her, resting her chin against them as her eyes took in the slump of your form across the small room. You were on the ground, legs numb from the hard, unforgiving stone underneath you. Boots removed and down to nothing but your simple clothing. She had taken the pendant from you, the one Din had gifted you in the wake of your confession to losing the one from Akiz. It glinted over her own chest, visible where she allowed it to drape over the front of her collar.

“Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the ship. I want to go home.”

“Oh no, my darling, you won’t be going anywhere near that disgusting ship again. That Mandalorian has caused enough damage, stealing you away after taking your fob. I still had to pay the Guild fee for your bounty. Credits you know we didn’t have in the first place.” She paused, her hands clasped together, elbows on her knees, and she leaned forward to rest her hand atop them. A wicked smile overtook her as she eyed you across the room.

“Luckily, I found someone who was willing to cover the cost and offer to take you as their wife. They’ve put a lot of energy and credits into helping locate you. They will be here in two days’ time to collect you.”

She looked almost mournful at the idea of you leaving so soon after reuniting. Of sharing you with another after claiming to do everything she had ever done to you out of protection.

“But he swore to protect you from any threats, from the Mandalorians that seem to be obsessed with owning you, harnessing your power to help them crawl from the cracks of the universe they ran to hide in when their planet was destroyed. This man, he’s from a very important royal line that is deeply rooted in the New Republic.”

“The New Republic is a joke, they can’t even keep their own soldiers happy, let alone protect anyone.”

“Hush now, darling.” She got up and the black tin she kept in her pocket flashed in her hand. You began thrashing even more so, tears cascading down your cheeks as she approached you. The click of the tin opening sent you back to every other time you had heard that sound in your life, eyes going wide and your breath left you as if you had been hit square in the chest. “The time will fly by with this dose and then we’ll be off to our new home.”

He’d been searching the city for days.

Despite the thrumming of pain through his head, his vision blurring, and the helmet resting too heavy on the now soft, new skin that was his injury. Tender fingers carefully spraying bacta and skin itching as the tissue tried to heal with its aid. He wished for your smaller hands to be the one caring for him, but he was alone. Alone with a fussing child that was beginning to use his powers to get his feelings across since he was still learning how to talk and use his little voice.

Not taking any time to rest, instincts telling him something was wrong, that something had happened. You wouldn’t just run off, even with what had occurred. At least…not for this long. He hoped. He…hoped.

Stalking through the various casinos and cantina’s, searching for any traces of you to be found. Even in the hectic atmospheres of the racetracks and brothels, of seedier bars and establishments you may have ducked into or been taken to by the force of whoever had stolen you away. Snatched you from whatever you had sought out to calm yourself.

He sat in front of the tracking fob given to him when he first took the job to return you to your mother for hours. Set it atop the control panels in the cockpit, helmet removed and head in his hands as he contemplated turning the device back on. He had scoured the hotels and seedier hostels with it in his grip, to no avail.

It was as if you had simply vanished.

Your smiles and laughter, soft sighs and teasing quips a figment of his imagination.

Made up in the loneliness that accompanied the type of life he led. Missions, jobs, hunting, tracking, trading in criminals and runaways for next to nothing, refueling the ship and hitting the ground running again, taking to the air and space again. And again, and again. He didn’t realize how tired and monotonous it had all become, despite the thrill of his skills proofing to be elite time and time again. He didn’t realize how much he had been missing out on until you threw it all off track. Deliver the goods and credits to the covert, ensure they were safe and protected, collect another job, hunt, track, kill, injure, collect. Broke the routine he had been so accustomed to with an utterance of his dying language. Rolling off your tongue with precision.

It had been striking. You had been striking and he had torn you down in a way he never wanted to, unintentionally with a fumbling lack of words. It was maddening, to search for days to find no trace of you anywhere.

There was no indication you ever existed aside from those left behind on his ship. The mug of caf sweetened with sugar and powdered milk at the table, the pack of your cigarras you always insisted on smoking outside while it was docked, the crate with your tools and materials used to make armor, the neat and organized labels you had applied to everything within the panels. The room he had set up for you….though you often split your time between his own and the hammock still hung up in the hold space.

He had left it all untouched, too afraid to erase the pieces of evidence that you were real. That you had been aboard his ship. That you had been trying to connect with him and he stumbled over his words so badly he made you feel unwanted on such a level that made you run.

Like the acts between you two had just been him seeking out pleasure with no real intent other than that behind them. The thought that you must’ve felt like he was just like every other person who had ever used you made his stomach turn and bile burn in his throat. Only his ploys had been steeped in honey and saccharine promises. He had frozen, the words he wanted to whisper to you lost in the panic of the moment, of wanting exactly what you were asking for. It had all been so overwhelming. It had been so real, felt so real, and it had been a jarring realization.

That he had wanted to remove his helmet and give into your request.

Despite the Creed he swore his life to. Despite the commitment he had made to you that would allow for him to do so in time.

But now it was too little too late.

After the third day, he was beginning to think you weren’t merely taking some time to yourself…

Maybe he was foolish to think he hadn’t messed up so monumentally that you had found a way off world and run even further from him. But he knew you weren’t the type of person to do that. To him, to ad’ika.

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

You wouldn’t have run from him to that degree, loyal and devoted. Loving and caring, kind hearted at the very core of who you were. Even despite the tragedies and ill-natured things you had been subjected to in your life. Good. Too good, for someone like him.

He was beginning to think something had happened.

But without the aid of your communication, vambraces still set atop the makeshift table along with your main bag and armor, he had no way of knowing for sure. Just the niggling feeling in his gut that was burrowing deeper by the second.

He sent a transmission to Karga, asking if there was any news of your arrest before deeming the planet a lost cause and raising the ramp. He took the Crest up up up and into the air, helmet scouring the shrinking planet all the while, feeling an ache in his heart that he didn’t think he would ever get used to.

He had to push through, he had to focus. You needed someone to help you, wherever you had gone or been taken. You needed him to find you. He needed to find you.

Ad’ika had been in a constant flux from eerily silent to wailing as loud as his little lungs would allow, wide eyes brimming with tears the longer you were gone. Din had taken to wrapping the child up in the cloak he had bought you, securing it with the metallic flower latches and laying him down in the cot alongside him. Never sleeping, only laying down intermittently to pass the time. Rest evading him as his mind began to think of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Tatooine was his first stop, no response from Karga when he docked and secured the ship in Pelli’s hangar. Much to his disappointment, the travel through hyperspace hadn’t been too long, so a response was wishful thinking on his part. Spurred on by the endless possibilities of what happened consuming him.

He was silent as he handed her the credits from your bag, loathing that he needed to use them as he lacked his own. Even now, gone from him and hurt, you were still offering him help. Providing for him the way he should be for you, the way that he wanted to. The reality of having asked you to travel with him weighing heavily on his mind. Once ad’ika is settled with those who could train him, Din would need to take up working with the Guild full time again to provide for the covert. A life steeped in danger and endless threats, a life you already had far too much experience with. Perhaps…perhaps he could secure a tract of land somewhere, a place to return to after jobs. A nice cabin surrounded by trees and an endless supply of anything you may need. Or perhaps a shop front on Nevarro, for you to sell you wares. He would take extra jobs to provide that for you, work his hands to the bone and until he could barely move for how exhausted he was.

Because you deserved it. You deserved to be happy and he was beginning to think that may not be with him. Not if he was constantly away or you were left on the ship for days, weeks, months at a time while he tracked down his quarries. Constantly traveling through space and left to handle the ship alone.

Would…would you even want that type of life?

Wouldn’t it be another type of imprisonment, no reward but a tired and aching man in the bed beside you only a handful of nights? Half of him given to you, half devoted to his Creed.

I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.

Thoughts consuming him, there was no argument from him as he left ad’ika with her to look through the city.

The lack of your figure emerging from the ship didn’t prompt any questions from her, though he could sense them on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

He set out, looking for the woman who you made friends with the last time he had landed the Crest on the sandy planet.

He found her, in the middle of a scuffle in the marketplace over a stolen loaf of bread. A child whose stomach was caved in and bruises over their arms visible when the sleeves of their tunic rose up. The vendor wanted the child to be taken in, punished for the attempted theft. But he could see how conflicted Sioban was with following that heated demand.

Diffusing the situation, seeing the form he had first encountered you in mirrored in the small child, he stepped forward and offered a handful of credits to the vendor.

“To cover the bread for the child, two loaves and that chunk of cured meat.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to put yourself out for that ungrateful litte-“

“Take it.” Din’s head throbbed, exhausted and anxious, just trying to do something good. Something you would do. They were your credits, and he wanted to do this. At the fixed stare of his visor, the vendor released the child from her tight grip, nearly throwing the small frame to the ground as she did. Roughly, she gathered the loaf that had started the whole ordeal, a second one, and the wrapped meat. Holding it out for him to take.

Sioban ushered everyone who had stopped in their tracks to go about their business. Once the small crowd cleared and attention was diverted, Din turned to the child and crouched down.

“Here, for you.” He kept his voice a hush, not wanting the modulator to manipulate his voice into a threatening or menacing tone it tended to do, taking the emotion from his words more often than not.

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

An enthusiastic nod and they were running off, disappearing down the street.

“Well, well, well. Mando is a softie afterall.” Sioban’s voice lightly teased. “Where’s Sarad and the baby? Or is this a solo trip this time around?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

“Something happened.” The woman’s features hardened, a slant to her brow as her eyes looked him over before settling on the visor. She didn’t look or feel like a threat, something proven further by your willingness to share a table with the woman. But Din was fighting his instincts, the ones telling him to chase chase chase, even with no actual leads as to where you had gone. And this woman might hold some clues or at least be able to offer Din a higher chance if he had someone on the ground of the planet you had run to once already.

“Yes.”

The conversation with Sioban hadn’t yielded any answers. If anything, it solidified that Din had absolutely no idea what to do. With no other leads, he fell back on his tracking tactics, searching for your last place of known residence.

Once back to the ship, he silently takes ad’ika from Pelli. Not responding to the looks or faint questioning he knew was on the woman’s mind. A nod, a formal shaking of the woman’s hand and he was guiding the Crest back into the air to comb over the planet as best he could. You had said you thought you were here when he took you from that compound, a home you had hidden away on this world after running from your mother years ago.

It took him nearly a week’s worth of days of flying low to the land before he caught sight of a structure.

Mind working overdrive as he strained his eyes through the visor with aided mechanics for any sign of life amid the vast stretch of the desert landscape. Sectors outlined and crossed out when they didn’t yield anything. Errant skeletons of a bantha, the Jawa’s traveling across the land, and Tusken settlements the only markers of time passing and the ship moving moderately along.

And then, suddenly.

There were two tall spires beside a moderate looking abode. Moisture farming equipment, the same you had told him about replacing shortly before your capture. Was all he had to go off of, a small conversation that you hadn’t expanded on in your time with him.

The structure was like most far out into the desert, mostly underground with a rounded and smooth stone roof, a door with a protected entrance to prevent sand from building up right up against it. It was modest, big enough for one person to have plenty of room. Abandoned, by his guess, the stone of the building chipped in places from sand and the spare storm weathering it down.

It had to be yours, it had to be, please let it be yours were his thoughts as he broke the lock still activated, ensuring the structure was protected even out in the middle of nowhere. Mos Eisley was an entire day’s travel away. Even more so in any other direction to another of the planets handful of moderate settlements. A good place to hide. Visibility on your side. A lonely place to hide.

I’ve always loved the forest.

The memory how your tired and injured features had lit up at the sight of Sorgan visible through the glass of the cockpit, the breathy gasp that had fallen from your lips sprung to his mind. You had been so calm, despite the precarious circumstances, stealing away moments to brush your bare fingers along the leaves reaching out from low branches.

You must’ve been miserable here. The land so dry and empty, the closest mountain ridges barely visible on the horizon. Even those were spotty with tangled roots that held little to no greenery. Sentencing yourself to the wasteland to live out your life in fear and comfortability, hoping the environment you weren’t fond of would throw those searching for you off your trail.

Glancing behind him, Din watched as ad’ika slowly made his way down the ramp. Little sounds falling from his lips as he took in the sight of his guardian in front of a new place he didn’t recognize. Raising his hands as he got to the bottom of it, Din retreated to it and lifted up the small child, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow as he descended down the few steps and through the open door.

It was dark inside, no lights on or power source even charged, no doubt. But definitely abandoned. Sparingly decorated, though he could feel that it was once your space. The kitchen equipped with a fancy caf maker, ample kitchen wares, potted plants and herbs that had long died and dried in the sunlight coming in through the windows. There was an impressively organized wall of shelving right above a desk in the large main room, presumably where you would work on crafting armor. The only way to support yourself in such an environment. Most likely making trips into town in order to sell or trade.

There were three interior doors at the back of the structure. A heavy duty one off to the side of the kitchen. That one contained a greenhouse set up, or as close to one as you could imitate underground and on so hot a planet. There was a large panel of controls beside the door on the inside, telling Din of the way you controlled the pressure and moisture of the room One to a storage room, more evidence of your time spent here. Full of large bins and crates, evidence of grains and dried food. Of the pieces of armor you lovingly and intricately crafted.

One to a fresher, the last to what was once your bedroom.

Underneath the bed is where he found it, with the aid of his helmet. The massive rug that took up most of the bedroom floor hiding it in plain sight. The trap door exposed when he moved the bed and folded the rug up.

It wasn’t secured with anything that he could see, even with the aid of his helmet. It looked just like score marks dug into the stone ground. And he recalled the way you could effortlessly wield the Force, the power you shared with the child. Perhaps you hadn’t wanted a way for anyone else to access what lay hidden beneath, using it to manipulate the hideaway you felt you needed even this deep in the desert alone. Forever paranoid and fearful of being tracked down and found out.

Sighing, Din tried to think of a way to break the barrier, knowing he needed to search the entire home.

��Ad’ika,” He called, turning to see the child had situated himself on the couch in the main room. Eyes wide as he toyed with a broken collar. He wondered if it had belonged to a creature you had cared for, run away or long since passed now. “Ad’ika, can you help me?”

Leaning down to pick up the occupied child, Din pointed a gloved finger to the marks in the stone ground.

“Ad’ika, see these lines?” A gurgle of acknowledgement, the tilting of his head. “There’s a door here, that leads underground. Mesh’la put it there, do you think you can open it?”

Din set him down in front of it, crouching down to hold his hand out in front of them both and mimic the way you would twist your hand in concentration to harness your powers.

“Just like Mesh’la, like how you take the handle from the lever in the control room?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, curiosity in them at the man’s words.

If this didn’t work…he could always resort to using the charges fastened to his belt. Force a way through the entrance, but he didn’t want to damage the space or the room below.

But the crackling of stone was sharp as it sounded in the air. The child’s small face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes clenched shut as he harnessed his powers. Quiet grunts falling from his mouth as he struggled to move the stone.

But it was working. It was opening, the telltale sounds of stone grinding on stone as the thick slab that acted as an entrance was pried open.

“Good job, ad’ika! It’s working!” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice nor the rapid beating of his heart. Positive that any answers he was in search of would dwell below. He moved forward to help lift the heavy slab, shoving it along the floor and revealing a dark space into the lower level of the house.

Turning on the flashlight of his helmet, Din descended into the bowels of your hideaway. Dust enveloped him as he waved at ad’ika to stay put on the higher level until he cleared the space.

It was a large room, the same size as the whole top floor of the structure. Though it was only two rooms, a living room and a bedroom with a second fresher. The living room held floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to the brim with physical books. A holo net in front of the couch, signs that you spent just as much time down here as you did in the rest of the structure if not more. He hated the realization that you felt the need to hide away even this far out in the desert, this far out in the galaxy. Forever paranoid and holding the fear that you would be tracked down. And he had been a part of that fear, he had been one of the many who had sought you out.

The crate in the bedroom caught his eye, beckoning him forward. Not only because of the hefty locks sealing it shut but because there was energy around it that made the tips of his fingers tingle. Much like his blood when he felt your body pressed up to his own, the sacrament of your trust in him personified.

Walking toward it, the small baby curls of his recently trimmed hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Snapping the thick locks, he kneeled on the ground in front of it and slowly lifted the lid.

His breath left him as the visor set into a midnight blue, almost black Mandalorian helmet peered back up at him. It was in pristine condition, as if it had merely been taken off for the man who he suspected wore it to partake in a quick meal and not the reality that it had been stored here for who knows how many years untouched. He hadn’t asked if you had kept it, after the man’s death, but he was felt the question bubble on his tongue more than once. But the answer was sitting obvious and blaring right in front of him.

Lifting it revealed the very same pendant he had gifted to you, attached to a thinly crafted beskar chain.

The one you had said you intended to show him in order to garner his help, to let him know of your connection to his way of life. Lost in the scuffle of being taken off guard and whisked away, but it was here, awaiting your return. He wondered why you hadn’t worn it that day, the day that set your paths up to cross. With slow movements, he began to remove the cowl about his neck, laying it down beside him.

With a held breath, he reached for the pendant and fastened it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt and layers of protective ware fronted by his cuirass. The cowl going back in place.

Beside the helmet…beside it was a neatly arranged line of metal hilts similar to the one you carried with you at all times. Similar to the one you had tried to buy your freedom from him with when first meeting.

Similar but not identical.

There were four of them. Lightsabers, you had told him they were called. That he now knew were an integral part of the creed you had been trained in. But the fact remained that he didn’t know the why of how many you had in your possession.

You had said each person similar in skill and training crafted their own, each unique and personal to an individual much like the helmets and armor Mandalorian’s adorned. Carefully picking one up, tingling traveling further up his arms and settling down his back, he tilted it to see that it did indeed house a crystal like your own. Each one had a different hue.

He decided to stay in the place that you once called home that night, locking up the ship after checking to see if he had received word from Karga. But when there were transmissions waiting to be heard, he secured the ship. His head hurting and his mind overwhelmed at finding pieces of you, proof that you existed outside of his memories.

Settling into the bed, he knew it was a lost cause as he tried to feel close to you. Reality reminding him you hadn’t slept in either of the cots aboard the ship in nearly two weeks now, years for the bed he now lay atop, cover bunched underneath his arms as he curled on his side and regarded the journal you left behind in your haste to run. Ad’ika resting atop the pillow beside his own, wrapped in your cloak as if it was the softest blanket in the universe. The child trying to feel close to you as well, missing you and growing more concerned each day.

Sleep evaded him, your voice loud in his head, the way you had sounded so devoid of emotion when he had failed to communicate with you. Tipping into different memories, the most prominent of the events back on Nevarro.

It rang in his ears, over and over, layering itself until it was a buzz he couldn’t rid himself of.

Ner kar’ta.

The desperation in your voice, the tears in your eyes, the way your hands shook as they reached out for him, how gentle they were when they cradled his helmet. The soft press of your forehead to his chest, to his helmet, to his hands grasped in your own as he lay bloodied and injured, barely conscious and so tired. So ready for death after a life that had only allowed him a glimpse of you. To ensure you could escape and continue to live, to be safe.

You had told him, as well as you could, what you meant to him.

Had shown him, with trusting him to press his skin to yours, body tangled with his own. Nervous giggles sounding into the air and seizing his heart as he wanted for more of them. Of the breathy sighs and sounds that fell from your lips as you let him caress your skin, the soft give of your chest, the plush give of your thighs, the velvet smooth apex between them.

Trusted him with the most intimate parts of you, parts of human connection. Even in the face of all that you had endured.

And then you has whispered it, half asleep and safe underneath him.

I love you. Future husband.

And he shattered it. With a foolish blunder of words he hadn’t been able to reign in, to explain himself and his own desires in a more coherent way. That he wanted you just as you wanted him.

Jatne vod.

Contradicted with the emotion bleeding from your expressive eyes, the firm line of your lips as you closed your mouth, resigned to a notion that you gathered from his stupid, ill thought-out words. From his lack of words. The way your hands shook for an entirely different reason, the way you shrunk into yourself, away from him.

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

He left ad’ika in the room, fast asleep atop the pillows.

Removing his helmet and hanging his head in his hands, he settled on the couch. For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian known for being so ruthless, for being so focused and emotionless behind his helmet, cried.

“Mando, I’ve received word. But it is best relayed in person. I will be awaiting your arrival.”

Ad’ika was not having a good day, he didn’t want to leave the house he could feel your presence in. He had already wailed and shook his tiny fists as Din tried to pick up him. Causing the migraine addled man to lose his grip at the sharp pierce of his cries to his head. That had only resulted in the thump of ad’ika’s bottom on the stone floor and more crying.

Din already felt bad enough, but he felt like the worst guardian in the galaxy for dropping his foundling, for not being able to manage his own pain and discomfort to care for another’s. A pang of fear floods him, igniting his instincts in a way it rarely did. And he froze in his crouched position, having been about to scoop ad’ika up.

The child must’ve shared in his foreboding, a shriek sprouting from him and causing Din to cradle his head as best he could with the helmet, knees kissing the floor harshly as he fell to them.

Something was wrong. Low in his gut, unease bubbled and stuck to his insides.

He felt like he was going to be sick, his head throbbing, pain prickling from the healing scar at the back.

And then his body felt numb, like all sense of command was not his to control and his vision blacked out.

Nevarro loomed in the distance, approaching fast. The ship rattled at the harsh landing, Din’s steps hard and fast as he disembarked, the ramp closing behind him as he crossed the new archway that had been erected in the time he had been away. Months had gone by, one with you and one without. Having to spend another week resting in the place you once called home. He had fallen ill, though of what he didn’t have an answer. Only that his head felt like he had been electrocuted and his limbs had been hard to control. Adi’ka too, had been lethargic, crying out long into the night every time the suns had set and darkness took over the planet. The search for you stretching far too long, anxiety thrumming over his skin.

Karga was in the reconstructed city hall, reading over something laid out on the table when the door boomed open, revealing the determined figure of Din, a secretary behind him frantically trying to warn the man in charge of his arrival.

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

“It’s alright, he’s got clearance.” With a nod the woman was closing the door behind her, knowing it was serious if all protocol was being ignored.

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

“Well, I wish these were better circumstances.” The man stood up, coming around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the still form of Din across the room. The wide eyes of the child peeking out from the bag at his hip, small hands allowing him to climb from within it and jump from the moderate height. He cooed, walking the distance to Karga and lifting his hands toward the man.

“I’m still trying to get intel on that. But I do know that it was her mother, who struck a deal with someone of the Guild. He…was here still when we took back the city. He had taken the transaction separate from the Guild, not wanting word of it to get back to me. To you.” He relayed the information as he bent down to pick up the small being.

“I’ve got him locked up, but he’s not speaking.”

“He will.”

“Mando-“

He was gone in a blink, stalking out the door and toward the prison cells kept on the lowest floor of the building.

The stone steps opened up to a line of cells on both sides of the long room, Din stopped in front of the only occupied one. Body buzzing with anger that the inhabitant had not only hunted you down and captured you but did so on the orders of someone who’s voice triggered you through a transmission. He couldn’t begin to imagine the visceral reaction you’d have upon seeing her for the first time in years, having entertained the thought of killing yourself in order to not have to deal with her again.

And he feared, heat catching in his throat as he felt the prickle of tears.

I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!

You…you wouldn’t, right? Now that you had him to return to, someone to rescue you from being stolen away from the life you had carved out for yourself. It had been so long since you had been taken, days, weeks, and entire month. And he still had no clue as to where you had been crated off to. It would be more days, more weeks, maybe another month before he could figure it out. Did you already seize an unknown opportunity, try to escape? Or had you given up, too loaded up with whatever drugs your mother and intended pumped into your system to make you compliant? Would you have taken the endless out of harming yourself, seeing it as the only option as he failed to come to your aid thus far?

Would you be able to sense the desperation and endless efforts he was putting forth to find you? That he was trying, despite the way he was still healing, despite the sense of dread that he would be too late?

Would you be able to sense his worry and fear over you having to deal with something you never wished for? A forced reunion with your mother, back in her clutches and control. A forced marriage to a man you didn’t know, the obligations that came along with that notion…the very same acts that had caused you to turn to self-harm in the past, the scars of which were displayed on the skin of your thighs, the same ones that he had run his fingers over not too long ago…

A man bound in cuffs was slumped against the floor, back leaning on the wall behind him. He appeared to be alive, though if his answers didn’t aid Din in his search for you he wouldn’t be for long. Giving into the urge to startle the unaware man, Din banged a fist on the bars of the cell. Jerking awake, the man’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved.

The second he recognized the armor, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“It was just a job, nothing personal, Mando.”

“Is that why you went out of your way to hide it from the Guild records?”

“You’re too self-righteous, knew you’d come after me for hunting the girl.”

The snapping of metal was loud, sickening as Din’s shoulders forced the control panel to bend and spark.

The whine of the door swinging open deafening as the man pressed himself back into the wall, trying to get up on his feet. But he was too slow, Din’s hands hauling the man up by the front of his jumpsuit and slamming him into the wall. A crack sounded as the back of the man’s head connected with the stone of the wall. A wail punched from his chest as he lost the air in his lungs.

“It’s too late, her mother married her off to some high lord. She’s probably already knocked up with his heir by now. Living a cush life in some nice palace far away from here.” He spoke unprompted by a direct question. Knowing that it was useless to try and lie to the Mandalorian.

The mere thought of someone touching you had anger swirling in his chest and stomach, igniting him in a dangerous way. You didn’t like people touching you, you didn’t like anyone who wasn’t him touching you in any way let alone intimately. His voice was low when he breathed out his next question, an edge to it that commanded the truth.

“Where?”

“Don’t know, I told her mother you were probably going to find out, track me down and kill me for the information. Don’t know why.” The man flipped the stray hairs flopping over his forehead away, teeth clenching as he recalled the way you had slammed him harshly into the side of the alley. “The bitch has a pretty face, sure, but she was a handful. Took a lot to take her out, but once I did, she begged so sweet for me to let her go.”

“Drugging someone isn’t something to boast about, it’s a last-ditch effort for those who don’t have the skill for the job.” Din’s words were a guttural sound, echoing across the floor. Blood dripped from the man’s nose, a vambrace knocked into it the longer the man talked. He didn’t know anything, but that wouldn’t stop Din from beating what he could out of the man.

“So what? It took her down and that’s what mattered. I saw her take down those Storm Troopers that overran the city, there was no way I was going to be able to without the hint from her mother. You’ll find another body to warm your bed. No need to fret over-“

Din’s hand was around the man’s throat in a flash, knuckles popping with the force. An ugly gurgle deep in his chest, body desperate for air, but he would never take another breath again. Windpipe crushing under his palm, Din took some comfort in the final, choked sound the man made before his body went limp.

Before it could even crumple to the ground, Din was walking out of the room and going straight toward the stairs.

“Mando, I sent communication to Cara, she’s-“

“I’ve got what I need.” Din was careful as he lifted the child from atop the desk where Karga had set him with a snack. Exchanging adoring coos with the tired little being. Making sure to offer the rest of the pack of dried fruit to the claws reaching out for it, a whine falling from his mouth at the idea of leaving it behind.

“Not so fast-“

“I don’t have time. I need to find her.” Din snapped, fists clenching and ad’ika ducking down into the bag at the boom of his voice. “She’s been sold like a slave by her mother.”

“I’m going with you,” Cara was firm in her decision, not wanting to take any chances of your distance becoming permanent. Of it leading to the demise of the person who you had begun to develop into that she had glimpsed.

“No, I have to handle this myself. I was the one who failed to protect her.” He moved to continue through the room, toward the door. But Cara was suddenly in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips a firm line.

“Mando, you’re gonna need help. And she’s important to me too.”

It was a quiet trek back to the entrance of the city, more ships having landed around his own. He was about to engage the ramp when two of the attending guards approached him. But they spoke with Cara at the sharp gaze of the visor on them. Another ship was offered for them to use, curtesy of the city and of Karga. Something a little smaller, a little faster, nondescript and wouldn’t give away the presence of an enraged and desperate Mandalorian searching for his partner.

When the argument for a different ship didn’t take, Karga approached through the archway.

Cara was hesitant to point out that the ship was as obvious as Din’s armor. A sign to tip off those keeping an eye out for threats. She had been quiet, sitting in the office with the magistrate and the child while the body of the now deceased Guild member who had hunted you down was taken care of. Waiting for Din to emerge from the containment level. But now she stood beside him, urging him to see the benefits to changing ships, just for the time being.

“Do we risk docking the ship in a hangar?”

“Yes, we lie about the model.” Din insisted, not wanting to leave the Crest behind.

“What if someone knows?”

“It’s an old ship, pre-Empire, no one will know.”

“They’ll run it through the system.” Karga spoke up, wanting to be a voice of reason for his friend determined to rush, to not take a beat and think things through. “Mando, you owe it to her to be as stealthy as possible. If they know you’re coming, once you track down where, they may hurt her. Take it out on her.”

Din closed his eyes, hand coming to the front of his helmet and over the visor. He didn’t want to part ways with his ship, even temporarily. It would mean he wasn’t surrounded by the things you left behind, the proof that you were real, had been with him, shared in a life with him even for a moment.

With his words more of a grunt than anything, he conceded, knowing the two beside him were just trying to help.

“What did you do Mando?” She asked quietly, the book from your crate in her hands and pages flipping as she looked through it. Hoping to find some light on how to connect with you. Din had gathered supplies from the Crest, things you may want once he managed to find you and rescue you.Your armor and more of your clothing, the first things he packed into your bag. An insistence for you to never leave the ship without the pauldrons again that he would plead with you until you conceded. People would be less likely to confront you with the tell-tale signet of a clan and the Mandalorian armor. But then again, he never planned to stray far from you outside of the ship. He knew you were capable, more than capable, but he…he wouldn’t be able to handle loosing you again if he was able to get you back.

When he got you back, he argued against the self-depreciating and negative thoughts that were attempting to consume him.

The ship was in hyperspace, a three-day trip ahead of them to make it to the mid rim coordinates of your home world. Neither had been there but knew of the inhabitants being an uneven mix of humans and a reptilian race. Oceans and sprawling fields of tall grass making up most of the environment. It was a moderately size planet, had seen bases for both the Resistance and the Empire in it’s time. Though the more recent had been the former. Most likely spurred on by your suspected return to what you knew in the wake of the Temple’s attack. An event in your life that you had yet to open up completely about, allowing him small glimpses before it became to much to talk about. But it was easy to connect the fall of Mandalore and the fall of your Temple being equally devastating, an attempt to take out entire cultures.

“I…I made a mistake.”

“…how big of a mistake?” Cara didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, not wanting to make the armored man feel cornered. Allowing him the privacy and space to turn away from the question should he want to, feel the need to.

“She fled the ship, to get some space. She must’ve been distracted, too worked up to keep her head up and on alert. It…I’m the reason she was taken.”

“Mando, you know that’s not true.” Cara tried to placate him, knowing he carried a lot of guilt over what had happened, whatever it had been to cause all of this. “She didn’t have her saber?”

“She does- did. She.. they drugged her. Like you said, it’s the only way to take her down.”

“Wait, this looks like Basic. They’re the only characters written differently…”

Din was hovering, making out the words on his own.

“Betrothed.”

He recalled the same words falling from your lips, the reason that prompted you to make an escape. You hadn’t wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s property. The name was in Basic as well, something you didn’t want to forget lest they come after you themselves. A shadow of your past hovering over you and hidden in the back of your mind as you set out on your own, determined to hide yourself away to prevent anyone from having power over you. Of belonging to someone, anyone ever again.

And yet…you had so readily agreed in his commitment to you, knowing that was the only way Din would be able to share in your affections and wants. Mandalorian religion and culture strictly forbade the removal of one’s helmet unless it was with family, with a spouse, with children of the same clan. To do so outside of those conditions would result in the label of an apostate. Striped of their involvement in the lifestyle and Creed. It was a serious thing you should hold reservations about, with your past.

And while he hadn’t pushed the parameters of it….he had wanted to. For you, for himself, to share himself with you in the way that you had felt safe enough to voice. The realization that you had agreed to such an all-encompassing thing, being with him made him reflect. Why were you willing to do so with him, for him? He was just a bounty hunter, one who had actively sought you out and intended to turn you into the very person who had stolen you away. Sold you like an object to someone for their wants and needs, to fill a space in their life whichever way they commanded it. He had been of the same mind when first encountering you, seeking you out for a trade of currency.

Din was not a good man, though he tried to be for his people. But being a good man to his people, being the sole provider for his covert allowed him to be fast and loose with what it meant to be good in order to do so. What did it matter if the person whose puck he had was truly guilty of the accusations calling for their surrender if it allowed him to delivery credits and supplies to his people? What did it matter if the job warranted for the person he was tracking to be delivered dead or alive and he chose to kill them based on the simple notion of them running and it allowed him to bring a ration of meals to his people?

What had he ever done to deserve someone such as yourself willing to let down your walls and allow him entrance? He had been at internal war, whether or not to turn you in the second you spoke Mando’a to him, healed him, saved him from that second raging Mudhorn even when you had to reason to do so. You easily could’ve let the cut on his arm fester, let the rampaging creature take out his already spent form.

But…it wouldn’t have been easy, he knows now. How you cared for those around you: from friendly vendors to women you seemed to see yourself in, to children who are simply hungry and have no choice but to steal, to ad’ika in bounds and waves, to him. The constant swivel of your head while out in crowds and among people, sousing out threats and people who may be on the lookout for you. The swiftness with which you turn into a fighter when threatened and your freedom is at stake.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Din’s mind as the ship traveled toward your home world. The last known location of your mother and potentially holding clues as to who she struck a deal with. The now dead bounty hunter not having gotten a name, only concerned with the exchange of credits for your capture. No questions, no concerns. The quarry’s capture the only thing that mattered. The man had taken the job and completed it. Had died as a result of it.

Din had been like that too, not that long ago.

Could have easily been the one being imprisoned while someone who cared about a quarry sought answers and revenge. But he was the one realizing how fragile things where, had been since taking two fobs from Karga and altering the very meaning of his life.

Something about the wide, beseeching eyes of the child had activated his heart. Opened it up and made room for the small being to fit into. The uncertainty he had sensed from the child once its eyes had looked into his own, spurring a sense of concern from the armored man over its life well beyond the need to deliver it to the client healthy and alive.

“She asked for something, for a…kiss.”

“But…your helmet.” Cara weakly argued, knowing how strongly he adhered to his Creed. Not even removing it in the face of grave injury and offered aid. Not even removing it in the threat of death.

“I know,” His words were carried on a heavy sigh. He sat heavily in the seat beside her, the hull holding a small set up for longer travels. Ad’ika crawled from her lap and over the table, situating himself in Din’s arms, claws reaching for the helmet to try and sooth the man. “She- she called me ‘jatne vod’ before she fled from the ship.”

The cracking of his voice was not lost through the modulator.

“She must’ve felt so rejected, so unwanted. And I- I just stumbled over my words so badly she ran.”

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

The sound of his name from her lips, so different from when you spoke it, whispered it, breathed it, was too much for him.

“I really messed up, Cara.” He admitted with shaky words.

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

K’ath was a beautiful planet. All endlessly sprawling ocean, sandy beaches, and small clustered villages.

Simple. Life here was simple. Crops being tended to, the oceans being fished in, no signs of the war other than an abandoned base on the edge of the largest cluster.

Din hadn’t ever wanted to enter the planet’s atmosphere, to step foot on the sandy land. It was a place that held painful memories for you, the crumbling of a life you had been hopeful to return to in the wake of losing everything that ever meant anything to you. A hopeful refuge after a life of hardships, but it had only provided you with more. The stripping of your freedom and the control over your own body.

It was simple enough to find your home, your mother’s home. Asking after the armorer, claiming he was in need of repairs. A Kath woman had been kind enough to try and use her broken Basic to tell them where he could find the store front, but that no one had been tended to it for some time now. That the woman who was known to run it could be approached at her personal residence. That she was kind and could be persuaded to help even though she’d long retired from working.

It was empty, signs of disuse obvious from the outside. Tall reeds of grass sprouting up at the foundation, the windows thick with grime. It was humble, despite the ways in which Din had seen you return from a shop front, a bag heavy with credits in your possession. A skill that you learned from your mother lending you a way to support yourself and indulge in all the things you had to go without for so long.

There was only one transmission on the communication radio set up in the corner that Cara had rushed to once the door had creaked open. Sand was collected in the corners, another sign that no one had occupied the residence for some time now.

“She’s on Maldovan.” Cara shuffled into the bedroom from the main one, aware that the man was focused on something she couldn’t see. He was as still as a statue, peering into the darkness of the doorway in front of him.

The visor allowing him to take in the room you had been held captive in. There was bedding on the ground, no frame for it to sit upon. A chair on the opposite side, close to the door. No windows, no other entrance or exit. A small room that was bathed in darkness lest someone bring a lantern into the room with them.

“I don’t know that planet.” Din admitted, shifting from where he was standing at the doorway of what had been the locked room hidden behind a large wardrobe to look over his shoulder at her. The shifting of it had popped a drawer open, revealing needles and syringes, vials that had been long emptied. All signs that this was truly the home you had been kept in.

“Is that-?”

“Where San was kept locked up, yeah.” He was surging forward, hands reaching for the chains secured to the walls above the bedding and he pulled. Using all the strength he had to rip them from where they were bolted, the wall cracking and splintering as he did so. The heavy chains fell to the floor with a clang, metal that sounded eerily familiar as it collapsed on itself. Kneeling down, Din reached for one of them, the cuff in his hand heavy and he sucked in a breath as he realized why such a simple contraption had been able to hold you: the chains were made of pure beskar.

Far too heavy for your drug addled body to fight against.

Programmed to shock you should you move too much, the sensors lining the inside of the cuffs telling him as much. With a shout he tore the second, lower set of chains from the wall, throwing them across the room in his rage.

The image of you shackled to the wall of this dark room, consumed with thoughts of ending your life kept him on his knees, forced his arms to support him as he crumpled to the ground completely. His modulator crackling with the heavy breaths.

Surging up, he activated bright flames to flow from his vambrace. Intent on tearing down the entire house to the last stud and beam. Cara was quick to retreat back outside, letting the man do what he felt was necessary. She stood behind him as he made his way outside, the structure entirely lit up and beginning to collapse in on itself.

Dark smoke whipped around in the breeze coming off of the nearby shoreline, doing nothing to quell the licking flames. Cara was doing her best to sooth an equally agitated child in the bad slung across her shoulders. Though she knew it would take time for them both to come back from seeing the evidence of your heavy past.

They watched as it turned from burning wood, the outer stone walls crumbling from the heat that had been trapped inside, to a pile of rubble and ash.

He knew it was against the Creed, that it was a sin to leave behind something of his people. But the beskar that had contained you glowed hot amongst the ash, left behind as he walked away from the plot of land and back to the ship.

“The holonet has little information on Maldovan. Citing that it’s a desert planet with white sands, crystalline oceans that bring in a lot of visitors.” Din announced as he exited the control room, the ship constructed of only that and one other room off the hold space. One level, but enough for them to be comfortable traveling. Cara had tried to get Din to retire to the room once they returned to the ship and left K’ath behind, but he had insisted he was fine. Though the door to the cockpit had been closed and locked for hours now, well into the trip since the ship had been jumped into hyperspace.

“And their walled city.” Cara added, as she brought up a hologram of the planet to life from her cuff. She had reached out to Karga, asking him for any aid he had to provide them on the place they were traveling to.

“Yes… and if her mother knows about you then it will be hard to make a plan. Your armor isn’t exactly common and I’m sure she’s told the royal guard to keep an eye out for you.”

“Haran.” He cursed, knowing Cara’s words were true.

Shit.

It was entirely possible, and he wouldn’t put it past the woman he personally knew nothing about, going off of the words of her that you had shared with him. But surely the only city on the planet wouldn’t go out of their way to screen the many tourists that sought out the picturesque world.

Time seemed to be moving slowly and far too fast all at the same time. Thoughts continued to consume Din, all the possibilities of what could occur, what had already occurred making him feel like he was a child once again who knew nothing of the world or how it worked. The ship’s system beeping before it shifted smoothly from traveling through hyperspace and back to sublight settings.

The planet in view was covered in vast expanses of white sand and bright blue. An ocean planet as much as a desert one. It was small, a moon to a larger planet visible in the sky even within the atmosphere as the ship descended. The only city was surrounded by a large wall, protection from the two outcroppings that looked to be a racetrack and the well-established tourist destination on either side.

Maldovan was known as a resort destination, an entire smaller sector off set from the main city. The sector looked to be abundant with hotels, spas, shopping, anything and everything to keep individuals occupied and a steady supply of credits flowing into the local economy.

Cara had suggested she be the one to guide the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, handle the communication with the intake group, and land the smaller ship into the hangar. She suggested he stay behind on the ship while she registered the ship, paying the station fee for several days. And when she returned, there was a frown on her face and a worried furrow to her brow.

The woman was frustrated, that much was obvious. Din merely watched her as she closed the ramp, turning to him and explaining what information she had gathered during the short interaction.

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

Everyone wore light, flowing coverings and outfits in order to gain access into the main part of the city.

And there were wanted posters depicting Din’s armored form.

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dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

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whistling-birds · 6 days ago

Text

A Series of Events

These chapters are part of one larger story. Please enjoy! Let me know if you are interested in more. I just write these for fun, so please be nice! I appreciate feedback, and could always use an extra pair of eyes, so if you find errors that I’ve missed I’d be more than grateful to listen and make changes! Some of these chapters are a bit slower- I am trying to build emotion and character relationships😊

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STORY OVERVIEW: One day you randomly wake up on a planet with a Mandalorian hunting you even though you swore you were just in your bed, on Earth, the night before. Why are you being hunted? Why are you here? Is this a bigger story or just a series of random events taking place?

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: The only thing comforting you was Grogu.

Part One: The Favor

Part Two: Reality

3. Truce

“What do you mean you’ve been here for a day ?” The Mando’s voice grew dark and gruff as he towered above me.

I stared at him as he spoke. Gentle winds animated the dull tree branches and forced sunlight to dance around the forest floor. The atmosphere was warm as the warriors armor reflected light like a disco ball.

I still didn’t understand why I was able to breathe on a new planet.

A thick bolt of anger and confusion filled my body as I took a breath of air.

He didn’t believe me and I was tired of being a pawn.

My lungs continued to burn from the inside out as I tried to regain my composure from previously being held captive at gunpoint.

My shirt clung to the sticky blood that dried up on my back- I felt disgusting and all I wanted was a hot shower. Instead, I argued with a walking tuna can in the middle of a random ass forest.

This entire day was nothing but a game of cat and mouse. A game in which I knew none of the rules and was tired of losing. I was angry and sad and confused. I felt everything and nothing at the same time. I was about to implode.

“Last night I went to sleep in my bed. This morning I woke up in the middle of a desert. With two suns.” I stated clearly as I shook my head, “I don’t even know what a Mando even is!”

I sat upwards with Grogu still in my arms. His little hands gripped the pendant on my necklace as I conversed with his father. In contrast, Grogu’s energy was soft and gentle and extremely comforting.

Never in a million years would I have expected to be comforted by a baby alien.

Was he like that with everyone?

I watched as the knight sighed with frustration. His weight shifted to his left leg, too. Even though his face was completely hidden I could see all of his emotion displayed in his body language.

His gloved hands touched the sides of his helmet as if he were to rub his temples in order to release built up tension.

“A Mando?” He mocked. A low chuckle escaped his lips until he became stern and cold once more, “I don’t have time for this.”

Oh, he was not going to dismiss me.

I rolled my eyes and stood up. I glared at the warriors helmet. All fear and intimidation left my body and was replaced with my stubborn nature to be heard. Meanwhile Grogu babbled to himself while he chewed my necklace.

“Listen to me. If this is some stupid prank you need to fess up because I’ve had a long day and I just want to go home.”

I had to grit my teeth after speaking to him. I turned to look around the forest, which still felt hollow and empty, “oh…yeah, and if I’m some sort of “enemy” then why did you trust me with your kid!? Thought you would’ve been smarter than that, space warrior.”

I stepped closer to the cold man and handed him the kid and the satchel. Mando’s metal arm scooped the kid up with ease as the necklace slipped out of the green goblins reach.

I turned around for a moment. I needed a minute of relief to take a breath.

Instead, I was greeted with three dead bodies on the ground. They all wore matching white armor with futuristic guns beside them.

I’ve never seen a dead body before. Let alone three all beside one another with their murderer behind me.

My skin instantly became flush and pale. My heart stopped pumping blood throughout my veins and my body froze as the realization of immediate danger crossed my mind.

Once again I became a shell of myself.

I was just a small fish in a large sea of uncertainty.

I slowly turned back to the knight. My confidence had been diminished and he noticed.

He simply stood feet away from me, unfazed, as he watched me. His body was stiff and his shoulders tensed up. The alien sat in his arms comfortably.

The weight of impending doom consumed my body. I felt cold and alone like a lifeless tree stump in the middle of an abandoned forest. My vision filled with warm tears, but I didn’t dare let them spill down my cheeks.

The world I knew felt miles away and the thought of never returning to my family became prominent.

They probably thought I was dead in a ditch or kidnapped.

Are they worried?

“I….just…where am I?” I choked on my own breath as I spoke timidly.

This man was no joke. He wore armor for a reason. He had multiple weapons, on hand, for a reason. He was able to kill three men effortlessly for a reason.

He wasn’t playing around and I wasn’t going to toy with my life.

This wasn’t a game.

Grogu started to whine as his little hands reached for me. His babbling grew more urgent. The Mando continued to analyze me silently.

Moments of dead silence filled the space between us with the exception of Grogu’s attempts to speak.

Silence seemed to be the only constant that I could rely on.

“The Outer Rim.” The warrior finally stated.

He was so fucking vague.

“What does that even mean?” I shook my head, “I need more than that.”

The space warrior tilted his head, “You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of the Outer Rim?”

I shook my head.

Honestly, I had no idea what to say. My mind was a blank chalk board erased of all thought and knowledge.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked.

My voice cracked and highlighted raw fear from within. More tears flooded my eyes as I spoke. I didn’t want him to notice, but that was off the table. He already knew how weak I was.

The man shifted his weight to his right leg, “I was told to bring you in alive.”

“What does that even mean?” I almost shouted out of confusion. A hot tear slipped down my cheek. I felt it trickle down my chin and stain my shirt.

“Look. I don’t typically talk to my bounties. This is just a job. I bring you in and get paid. Nothing more and nothing less.” The warrior stated coldly.

He seemed to be a veteran at his job. He had a system and wasn’t going to break it for me.

With that, he took a step towards me. My eyes were glued to his frame as the space between us grew shorter and shorter.

I finally noticed my own reflection in his armor. My hair, which had been up in a bun, was full of knots and dirt. The combed back hairstyle was now a tangled mess. It looked like a mop on top of my head. My face, typically clean and maintained, was covered in dirt and smoke. My clothes matched the dirty aesthetic I was sporting.

In an unknown world- I was the alien. I stuck out like a sore thumb in simple jeans and black shirt.

More silence consumed us until Grogu’s whines amplified. His little fingers reached for me as if I were his lifeline.

“Grogu enough.” The warrior demanded with a rough voice.

He was fed up with how his day was going, and I didn’t blame him; I was, too.

But the kid didn’t stop. His whines turned to an all out tantrum like when we were back on the ship just hours ago.

“Dank Farrik.” The man angrily sighed under his breath, “Grogu.”

Dank Farrik? That’s a new one.

I watched the two closely. Grogu continued to reach for me as his big eyes welled with tears. Before I could even blink, the kid jumped out of his father’s arms and into mine.

I couldn’t help but gasp.

Again, the kid magically appeared in my arms. It was quick and precise.

I wish I could describe it better, but he literally gravitated towards me.

Magic.

Kind of like a graceful frog only if the frog were a wizard and learned how to float in air.

He was quick, too. It all happened within the blink of an eye

Stupid and cliché sounding, I know, but it was the truth.

The child’s cries finished, though, and his familiar warmth snuggled against my chest. His hands quickly found my necklace once more.

What was so special about the necklace?

“Does he do this often?” I asked blankly. I instinctually started to sway back and forth to ease the child more.

Grogu’s big head found comfort against my collarbone. His left ear squished against my skin as the other stiffly stood in the air.

The warrior looked confused as he stood silently in front of us. He shook his head simply, “He’s stubborn, but never like this.”

I nodded slowly and then rested my head atop of Grogu’s. He was a sweet baby full of love and curiosity.

I was still full of fear, though. My body was overheating from panic. I started to feel nauseous and honestly wanted to throw up.

The weight of being in an unknown world was more than terrifying, but Grogu had the ability to ground me. He needed love and care. He was way more important than me at the moment.

“I won’t hurt him.” I said softly, “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

The man nodded, but didn’t say a word. I could tell he was on edge.

“You’d kill me if I did anything to him. I remember.” I added.

After being threatened more than once, I knew the stakes.

He only nodded.

—————

I’m not sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours.

I sat with Grogu under the largest tree I had ever seen. If I had to guess, it stood at least 400 feet in the air with long branches that grew for miles.

Half of the tree was dressed with red and orange leaves while the other half was exposed to the elements. The bark was thick and rough as I leaned my back against it for support.

The tree reminded me of Earth.

Home away from home.

Grogu continued to babble happily in my lap while his father mended the damages of his spaceship.

The spacecraft was big and old. Smoke, from what I was assumed to be an accident, escaped into the air from the open door.

The Mando checked every nook and cranny from the inside out. He was patient and paid great attention to detail.

Every five minutes he checked on us to make sure I did not run off with his kid.

I didn’t try to escape, to be honest. Leaning against the tree was the closest to comfort I had felt all day, and if we’re being completely honest, I didn’t want to risk my life.

Grogu was enough proof that that man had empathy. He also said he wouldn’t kill me.

“I was told to bring in you alive.” Looped in my head over and over and over again.

What does that mean? Maybe I would finally have the answers I had been looking for.

Maybe I could go home.

I felt optimistic for a moment and tried to hold onto that feeling for a little bit longer even if it was childish.

Laughter filled the still air as I bounced the green alien in my lap. I couldn’t help but smile as his laugh grew more and more.

“Time to go.” The familiar voice spoke out of nowhere and caught me completely off guard.

“Jesus Christ…where did you come from?” I stood up and looked at the man, “sneaky.”

I could tell he rolled his eyes under his helmet. He looked down at Grogu and I.

Grogu grew tired from his laughter and was half asleep in my arms. His hand gripped my necklace.

The warrior shook his head, “just…hold him for the time being. I can’t handle another tantrum.”

“Okay. I can do that.” I replied softly. I inhaled fresh air and followed the warrior to his ship.

My steps were deliberately slower, though. I felt my heart rate grow faster in my body. Anxiety and stress filled the rest of my form.

I hesitated to board the ship.

The space warrior turned to make sure I was following, but when he noticed I stopped, he said, “you don’t have a choice.”

I gulped hard as pressure filled my head and chest. The Mando stood at the ramp of the ship and waited for me to board.

I glanced at the man, then towards the ship, and back at the man.

“You don’t have a choice.” He repeated himself with urgency.

I forced myself to walk up the ramp and into his ship once more. Grogu’s hushed snores caught my attention, but looming doom drowned any ounce of hope I had left.

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mandalorian #star wars #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian story #the mandalorian/reader #mandalorian fanfic

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smolvenger · 2 years ago

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Life Day Gift

Summary: When you were a kid, you became close friends with Din Djarin. But after you escaped the Seperatist attack on your village, your beloved Din is assumed dead. Now you're an adult working a Life Day shift, where a visiting Mandalorian arrives. You assume he's just like any other customer, minus some armor and a baby, but there's a surprise beneath that helmet...

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Din defends you from a creepy older boy and rude customer's at your restaurant job, swearing. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Some sassy banter. Fluff to Angst to Fluff again. Life Day. Eventual Happy Ending.

Word Count: 2K

Link to my A03

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Etsy Link For Comfort Character Letters/Playlists

A/N: Hi there, @againstacecilia! It is I! Your Secret Santa! Here is your gift for @trekkingaroundasgardsevents and @startrekkingaroundasgard's Holiday Fic Exchange! This is my first time EVER writing for Star Wars, so I hope you like it! Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! Happy Holiday Season!

Also, a short playlist inspired by the fic can be found HERE as a bonus! :)

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS AND ASKS ARE APPRECIATED!

THE PAST

You would never forget the boy. Your own home village was quaint, peaceful. The adults talked worriedly of the empire, but it didn’t matter to you. What did matter was that little boy, Din.

You met when an older boy was being far too creepy to you for your comfort when out of nowhere- WHOOOSH! - he was pelted by a rock.

“Hey! Leave her alone!”

Looking into the light from the street corner you were targeted on, he almost seemed to glow. He was small and skinny with dark eyes and dark hair. But despite his smallness, his courage made him stand like he was a giant.

“Or else what?” the older boy sneered.

His answer came in the form of another rock that pelted him so hard in the face that it knocked him down, nose bleeding. You ran away from him, clutching the hand of the little boy.

“Hurry! Let’s go!!!” You pleaded, and both of you ran off.

Hardly anyone believed you about the older boy. You were a child, and he was a teenager. The few who did confront him. The older boy cried and said he was sorry, and he was quickly forgiven In the eye of the adults. They patted his back and smiled and invited him to their Life Day dinners coming up next month.

Your own pain didn’t matter, but his feelings did. It hurt you so much you ran outside the house to cry.

“Hey…is that you again?”

You turned your head up to see the dark-haired little boy.

“Yes, it’s me…”

“What’s your name?” he asked you.

You gave your own, wiping snot and tears off your sleeve.

“And what’s your name?” you asked.

“I’m Din Djarin. You can call me Din.” He introduced.

“Din…teach me how to throw rocks like you do, can you? Please?”

And that was the beginning of a friendship. You were strangers at school but became thick as thieves. You swapped cookies together. He taught you how to throw rocks and even a bit about how boys would fight and throw punches. It made you feel safer and stronger as that older boy prowled the streets. But Din never left you alone. You scraped your knees, laughed, talked together, and visited each other’s houses. His mother would pour out blue milk to sip on. You would take him to your house and read him some of your favorite stories with you doing all the voices. And Din would go into your room to see your things.

“Trinkets?” He would gasp, looking at the shiny rocks and rings.

You nodded your head. “Mmhmm- let me show my collection!”

Your first Life Day together, Din gave you a special gift. From inside his pocket, he pulled out a string necklace with a beautiful stone on it. It was a golden pendant on a leathery string with a bright star in the center.

“Oh, Din! This is the best gift ever! I love it! Thank you!” you squealed.

And you gave him the biggest hug. He always gave the best hugs.

It all seemed so different later. The attack. The separatists. It seemed like one day; you both were running home from school to laugh about the teacher and snack on blue cookies from your mother.

And the next morning when you woke up there were blasts and screams right outside. Your parents rushed into your room.

“Y/N! Y/N! We must leave, please! Now!” your father insisted.

The pendant was around your neck as you hurriedly put on a coat and grabbed whatever you could. You clutched your pendant, your eyes looking worriedly as villagers fled for their lives around you.

“Where’s Din?! We must find him! We must take him with us!” you pleaded.

“No, Y/N! We don’t have time! There’s a ship we have in the back- they’re taking only the first few who arrive! We must run- NOW!” your mother begged.

You ran with them as you freed your hands to grab theirs. Hearing the screams, the stomping of Stormtrooper boots, and your own terrified heart ringing in your ears and keeping your eyes forward, though your peripheral was filled with the bodies of your friends and neighbors. But you kept running, forgetting the tiredness and the fire in your lungs for what of breath.

Your family hopped onto the ship and flew away to safety somewhere else. But your heart never stopped racing and you didn't stop shaking the whole trip.

Once you had landed on a new planet with a new life, you asked constantly for news about the Djarin family. About the boy.

And it arrived.

Your parents took your hands as you sat at your new table and looked you in the eye. Your mother had a communication device in her hand that she had just turned off. They were already frowning and starting to tear up.

“Y/N…The Djarin family was killed by the Separatists.” she told you.

“Including Din?” you asked.

“He was never found. But we know they burn bodies after. So…including Din…” your father answered.

You leaned into their arms, sobbing for your friend.

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

CURRENT DAY

“Hey Y/N! If you have time to lean, you have time to clean!”

Ugh, to think I have to spend Life Day working you cursed, getting up from your thirty second break.

Working at a bar wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable and paid the bills. And if you worked on holidays, there was a bigger bonus and here you were. The fact it was a bar and a restaurant brought over even more customers which meant usually busy shifts.

It was a huge pain in the ass, but it was something. And you knew you had two bills due this week at least. Maybe it was better than another awkward holiday with your family.

You got out and grabbed a rag, cleaning up remnants of a spilled drink on the table. Ooof, you would need a new one.

Why can’t these customers ever learn to clean up after themselves? You thought this as you returned the rag to the kitchen. Didn’t they realize you were human too?

To be fair, you had alien and droid customers frequently so perhaps human wasn’t the right word. Hmm, maybe…being? Creature?

Once you pondered this, you heard a sound like a little coo and looked over.

Speaking of creatures, a tiny green creature was by your feet. He let out another innocent babble. He had big dark eyes and wide ears and was so small, he had to waddle and tug at the end of your pants to get attention.

“Why hello there!” you greeted.

He cooed in response, wiggling his ears.

“What’s your name? Do you have a seat? Want anything to eat or drink, buddy?!” you asked, bending down your knees to greet him.

“Hey! He’s mine!” a voice barked.

You looked up and your blood froze to see a fully armored Mandalorian approach you.

“Oh, I wasn’t doing anything,” you protested, hands on your hips.

The little one waddled to him and the Mandalorian scooped him up in his arms.

“I can’t let this guy get hurt,” he said.

“I wasn’t hurting him, I was just greeting him like I do anyone else,”

“Fine. Is there a table?”

“You’re lucky this one is just cleaned up.

“Aright, give us both some Rootleaf Stew with Polystarch bread. Plus save a slice of Blackberry pie- this little one likes dessert,”

“One thing at a time…I’ll get it!”

You left and re-arrived with the food in hand. In the back the band was blasting all the Life Day hits that you heard so much you wanted to scream.

But once you bent down and were serving the dishes, you felt the little green babies’ hands on you. You paused to see that your pendant had slid out of your shirt and the baby was playing with it. The Mandalorian froze. You glanced down. The baby pawed at your pendant like a cat, giggling.

“Oh, you like this, buddy?” you asked, showing him the necklace.

You investigated the helmet defiantly “is that against your own parenting code, hm? This is the way and all that and a cup of tea?”

The Mandalorian kept looking directly at you through his helmet.

“Where…where did you get that necklace?” he asked.

“Old friend, Life Day Gift,” you answered.

You wiped the stains from your hands onto the rag tied onto your belt.

“Who is your friend? What planet did they come from? What was their name?” the Mandalorian kept asking.

The little green baby kept digging into his food with a content babble.

“Look, it’s…it’s personal, alright? And he…he died. Killed in a Separatist attack with his parents, okay? How is that? I…it’s a lot…”

He nodded his helmet down.

“Oh…I’m sorry. I had no idea…” he then said.

He gave you a spare napkin to wipe the tears at the ducts of your eyes.

“Would…would you like your pies with cream or plain?” you asked per your practice.

“Cream,” he answered.

Once you arrived with the pies, the Mandalorian left a generous tip.

“When is your shift over?” he asked.

“In…in an hour and a half? Why do you ask? Why do you even care?” you said.

“I…I want to speak to you after, if that’s alright,” he answered.

Your blood was cold. Were you being hunted?!?! You hadn’t done anything! But then again, his voice didn't word it as a threat...

“Okay, you can…” you replied.

He stayed at the table. You took a deep breath and released it. After getting a brief sip of water, you continued your shift. Though noticeably, if a customer was being short to you, the Mandalorian would walk up.

“Hey. Show some respect. It’s Life Day, after all.” He would threaten.

The rude customer’s jaw would drop, their color draining, and then act with more manners. You bit back a large smile.

Finally, the shift ended. Once you turned in your apron, you met him outside. But then you felt a splatter of rain from outside.

“Ugh, Maker help me! What an ugly storm!” you complained.

“Come to my ship.” He offered.

The rain pattered on him, making a louder noise against his armor. He seemed rather unbothered by it.

“What?” you cried.

“It’ll be dry there.”

“Okay…that does sound better," you shrugged.

You followed his dark cape, the little pod for the baby floating by his side. Once you got into the ship, you shivered from the rain on you.

He opened a quadrant and pulled out a cloak.

“Here..it’ll make you feel better,” he offered.

You nodded and accepted it.

“Why are you doing all this? You’re just supposed to be a Bounty Hunter. Why me? Just Life Day Spirit in you?” you asked.

There was a pause.

“Is your name Y/N?” he asked.

Thunder shot through you.

“Didn’t I give you my name when I got your food?” you asked.

“You didn’t,” he said.

“How do you know my name?” you questioned, taking a bold step forward.

“You have that necklace that your friend gave you. Were you children then?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered, feeling the floor give in beneath you.

“And he was killed?" he continued.

“By Separatists, yes.”

He folded his arms in front of him.

“What was his name?”

“Din Djarin. I’d just call him Din. And he was the sweetest boy…not that the Empire cared. They killed him one and the same.” You said, tears welling up.

There was another pause. Quietly, the Mandalorian reached his hands up to his helmet.

“What…what are you doing?” you asked.

He gripped the sides and slowly began to slip it off.

“What! Stop! Isn’t that breaking the code? What about you-“

Once it slipped off, you saw him. Not a boy, but a man. He had matured. There was a small mustache beneath his nose. But his eyes and dark hair and face were almost the same.

“What…what…no…are you…” you started to mutter, both hands flew to your mouth and the world around you spun with shock.

“Y/N. It’s me. Din…”

You caught onto the wall to keep from your dizziness overcoming you. You saw the green baby tilt his head to the side.

“You’re alive…how?” you gasped.

“My mother hid me somewhere. Then a Mandalorian saved met that day. Took me in like their own. Raised me to be one of them …” he answered.

You then looked up. You saw he was starting to tear up too. You ran up and wrapped him in a large hug. He hugged you back and you both began crying.

“Do you…do you have any tea?” you asked.

“Tea?”

“Whenever I see my parents, we drink tea…it’s a drink of reunion!” you said, with a little laugh.

He blinked and then smiled with a nod.

“Yes, I have some…”

He put a small kettle on with three cups enough in the back. The little green baby waddled around freely, excited for a cup.

“Who is that one?” you asked, bending down to pat the baby’s head.

“His name is Grogu,” Din explained.

Both of you cozied up with mugs of tea- added with cream for a bit of flavor. Slowly drinking, you both talked.

He told you what he could about the Madalorians. Memories growing up training. The few adventures he had. How he met Grogu and saved him from being a pawn for The Empire. The misadventures they had together. Your tea was long finished by the time he stopped.

“Well…all that’s exciting! And here there’s old me- what happened to me? I just work in a bar and restaurant now! And look at you- a true Mandalorian warrior!” you praised.

“That’s not true…” he said, looking into his cup.

“What…what do you mean?” you asked.

“Y/N…you learned how to fight. You survived an attack. Every day you get up and brave unpleasant people. Even back when, I thought…”

He blinked his eyes again, looking this way and that. Then he looked up at you.

“I thought you were a good person. A great person in fact,” he said.

“I think the same of you,” you replied.

Grogu waddled to a window and waved his arms, babbling.

“What is it, kid?” he asked, turning around.

Grogu pointed out the window and you followed his tiny finger to look out. It was night by now, but the lights were all on- decorations glowing and the lights on every building felt like the stars were down and decorated in the town.

“Oh, Din- look! The lights and decorations for Life Day! They’re beautiful!” you gasped.

He went up and looked out at it. All of you admired the beauty of it for a quiet minute.

Then you turned to the side.

“Din…can I…can I…” the breath left you.

He looked at you with soft eyes.

“Din, can I join you on your ship…you could use help with Grogu. You can teach me how to fight like you did as a kid. I can give my job a two weeks’ notice.”

“How come?” he asked.

“There’s so much of the galaxy I’ve never seen…that I’ve always wanted to see and…and…”

“And?” he asked.

“I just…I don’t want to be separated from you again,” you confessed.

He gave a small smile.

“I don’t want to be separated from you either…ever again,” he confirmed.

You took his hand and squeezed it.

“I can’t think of a better gift than that…Happy Life Day, Din.”

“Happy Life Day, Y/N.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepted. His smile didn't drop from it either.

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vodika-vibes · 4 months ago

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Hi, Vod’ika! I hope you’re having a good weekend!

(This is long; feel free to ignore.)

I’ve had clones and marriage on my mind recently. Like how would they get married? I would imagine most had to marry in secret. Whether by exchanging traditional Mandalorian vows or by made up vows to each other.

Did any get to have a wedding surrounded by a few family and friends? Were there any clones that were lucky enough to marry into a family that didn’t hate clones?

It’s just been weighing on my mind. I hope at least some got to have a not-so-secret wedding. Maybe with their brothers and new family surrounding them. Maybe some had children and families during and after the war.

Idk, just thoughts.

Hi there! I'm having an okay weekend, it's hot which makes it hard to want to do anything, lol

I know in legends that at least some of the Nulls got married. One to a Jedi, though some married just ordinary people if I remember correctly. (also my knowledge comes from Wookieepedia since I haven't read the books yet.)

And on to my own opinion. I like to think that the clones would make their own marriage traditions based on Mandalorian traditions, plus the traditions of the people that they worked with.

Like, can you imagine? Howzer offers you a piece of his armor, molded into a ring or a pendant for you to wear while following the Twi'lek marriage tradition?

Or Cody carefully crafting a piece of jewelry from his armor, while making a vow that's somehow a mix of Mandalorian and Jedi, but in the end, he's promised to you and you're promised to him?

I like to imagine that the Batch, at least, managed to settle down and live average lives while on Pabu. Can you imagine Crosshair with a pair of identical daughters with his silver hair? Or Wrecker with a son, a daughter, and then a baby son? Hunter raises Omega, and then his partner gives him a baby boy and then, a few years later, another baby girl so there are three kids in the house.

#star wars #answered asks

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wreywrites · 5 months ago

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Strange Habits

Jedi June Week 2

Prompt: Balance

A/N: To throw one more OC at you (I have *many*), this story features a legit Mandalorian, who has a little brother who will go on to be fairly famous in some circles. Warnings: None AO3

She slept with a rock. She tucked herself under a tree, back against the trunk, and pulled the rock out of her pocket. Then she folded her hands over her stomach, the rock nestled between. It was strange, but who was he to judge?

It was a smallish rock, no bigger than his mythosaur pendant, but from what he could see, it wasn’t carved or painted or etched, it was just a plain gray ellipse-shaped rock. But she didn’t seem to want to explain it, and he wasn’t intrusive enough to ask.

So Kylen Ydarra slept with a rock, and Zann Rau accepted that Jedi were strange.

*****

He noticed, sometimes, when she was overwhelmed or scared or confused or exhausted, she would take the rock out of her pocket and let it rest in her open palm while she just… looked at it. She would take a few deep breaths, and then she would put it back in her pocket. He didn’t think the rock did anything, but Jedi were strange.

At least, Ydarra was a little strange.

*****

“I’m curious,” Zann said as they made camp for the night, “what’s with the rock?”

“My master gave it to me.”

“Something to remind you of home? I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments like that?”

“We aren’t. I don’t.” Ky shook her head almost to herself as she sat back against a tree and pulled the rock from her pocket. She laid it in her open palm, then slid it to the end of her middle finger, the smooth surface sitting on the pad of the finger. “No, the rock is…” She took a deep breath and tilted her head. The rock stood on end, a perfect ellipse with one vertex on her finger and the other sticking up in the air. Slowly, it began to spin in place, never losing its perfect balance, never faltering.

“It helps me stay balanced.”

“Balanced?” He spoke quietly, almost afraid that he could topple the rock with any loud noises or sudden movements.

“Yeah.” Ky smiled at him. Still the rock revolved on its axis. “I have been told I’m excitable.”

He had to laugh. “Oh?”

“By more than one person.” She grinned again. “Anyway, my master gave me this rock before I left. He meditated with it so much that it holds a kind of… resonance with him. When I hold it, I can feel what he was feeling when he meditated. Calm strength waiting to be called into action.” She answered his question before he could voice it. Then she went on. “And it reminds me to trust in the Force, to not let my emotions—good or bad—get the better of me. I can feel them—I should feel them—but I must keep them in balance and not let them rule me.”

Zann nodded, but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t understand well enough to nod along like he did.

“When I am tired, the rock reminds me to persevere. When I am scared, the rock reminds me to have courage. When I am frustrated, the rock reminds me to be patient.”

“Must be hard being a Jedi and remembering all that stuff.”

“Not usually. Most of the time we’re in the Temple surrounded by other Jedi, and we can encourage and help each other. But here—” a teasing smile flashed across her face, “—here I’m surrounded by Mandalorians, whose idea of ‘balance’ is a blaster on both hips. Your people don’t exactly help me keep an even emotional keel.”

“Hence the rock.”

“Hence the rock. In fairness, I had the rock before I knew just how annoying you would be.”

“Wow,” Zann snorted. “Thanks.”

*****

The days were long and they fell asleep every night exhausted. As the weeks wore on, Ky pulled the rock from her pocket more and more often.

When Hardeen finally left, it was with one less spare bootlace. Zann doubted he would notice.

The days were long, but now there was something to do with his hands during the restless watches of the night.

*****

“Here.” He passed her the leather cord, a careful harness on a loop.

Ky frowned as she took it.

“For your rock,” Zann added.

She smiled and reached into her pocket, then slid the rock into the little harness and tightened it. “Thank you.” She put the loop around her neck and let the rock slip inside her shirt, pressed against her chest next to the mythosaur.

Suddenly, Zann felt very self-conscious. He cleared his throat, uncrossed and recrossed his legs, and said, “I just thought—it might be easier—this way you can always feel it, you know, instead of having to dig it out of your pocket—it’s always—”

“Zann.” Ky’s voice was so soft, not like her usual commanding tone. He thought he might melt under the force of her smile, the light in her eyes. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He nodded awkwardly.

“And,” she went on, her smile growing, “I can feel the care you put into it. It holds your respect and friendship and gratitude. Not only is it perfect for my rock, but the necklace itself will help me find balance.”

He knew he was blushing. He cleared his throat again and said hurriedly, “Just promise you won’t tell any of my Mandalorian friends I’m helping you ‘find balance’ and ‘trust in the Force.’ They’d lose all respect for me.”

Ky laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Not every day you meet a Mandalorian who values an even emotional keel.”

#jedi june #wrey writes #sw: the protector #oc ky ydarra #oc zann rau

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nobedofroses · 10 months ago

Text

December 27th

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

warnings: fluff, inexpert claims about Mando marriage

words: 458

a/n: sweet marriage proposal from Din! quote prompt “I wanna be your last first kiss” from @toomanystoriessolittletime's winter writing challenge ❄️

more Din, Full List

🌨️🌨️🌨️

You really hadn’t expected this. You didn’t know anything about anything when it came to Mandalorian marriages or weddings or anything. So you especially didn’t ever expect that Din would be bent on his knees in front of you, both of your hands in his, putting a Mandalorian mythosaur pendant in your palms.

“What are you doing? Is this allowed? I’m not a Mandalorian!” you nearly shouted at him.

Din’s laugh was clear through his helmet and he told you gently, “Yes, I am aware. Yes, this is allowed. And what I am doing is asking you to be my riduur.”

You were more than familiar with the term, having daydreamed of one day calling Din that without the slightest hope that the dream would ever come true. And now it was.

“Are you sure?” you still couldn’t believe it.

“Yes.” Din said simply and he stood because this was taking longer than he expected.

“When— when would we do this?” you asked.

“Anytime we want. It is a pledge to one another, it does not require anyone else,” he explained. Then he tilted his helmet at you in the way that you knew he knew was intimidating, “Are you going to answer me or not?”

You were completely baffled, “Answer you what?”

Din scoffed and shook his head fondly, “Will you be my riduur?”

You gasped, finally realizing why he seemed so impatient, “Oh, yes! Yes, of course, Din, I love you! Yes!”

Flinging yourself at him, you had no regard for the fact that he was covered in beskar armor but you did wince as you hugged him.

Din was a little more wary of hurting you, so his hug wasn’t as tight. You pulled back after a moment and said sheepishly, “I guess soon it will be a little easier to hug you.”

He was silent for a solid five seconds and you started to wonder if you said something wrong. Then he grabbed your hands again and said, “Let’s make it right now.”

“Now?” you asked with an excited smile.

“Yes, now. I need to hold you, have you without any barriers. To… kiss you,” he trailed off, turning slightly away in his embarrassment.

“You think about that?” you asked softly.

“I feel your lips on my skin and it’s all I can think about. I know you have kissed others but… I want to be your last first kiss,” Din said, more sure now, his bare hand coming to hold your jaw.

If possible, you loved him even more and wanted everything right now too.

“Tell me what to say.” you said, sliding your hand over his and turning your head to kiss his palm. “How do I pledge my love for you?”

🌨️🌨️🌨️

#i'd pledge my love for him so hard #din djarin #din djarin x reader #fluff #blurb #nobedofroses #stephswinterwritingchallenge #snowy fics 23

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limnsaber · 1 year ago

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Mandalorian Gen Fic Rec List - Volume II: Clan of Two Part II

Hello all, and welcome back to Lim's SW fic recs! This is the second post about my favorite The Mandalorian gen fics-- and this post is just about Clan of Two. Check out the previous installment (Volume I!) and the upcoming volume about side characters & adventures and encounters. For shorthand, 🔐 means a restricted work and 💜 means an personal favorite, but they are all honestly must reads. Please let me know if you like&read them, and please give your love to the authors we owe so much to!! -Yours, Lim <3

Clan of Two

People Expect Big Things From a Man With a Jetpack by @cosmicoceanfic (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k)

“It’s like watching a baby bird try and take off for the first time,” Cara says. She holds out a corn popper to the Child, who pauses in his singleminded quest to try and devour the pendant to eye it thoughtfully. “I could kill you any which way right now,” Din says. Cara chews, slowly and deliberately. “You could definitely try.” The Child takes the corn popper and stares at it. “Relax, part of practicing something new is getting your ass handed to you every now and again. It’s just my right as a person to laugh at you for it.”

Higher Education by JordannaMorgan (Din & Grogu, Gen, 0.7k)

Peli wonders if Mando might be overdoing it just a little.

💜 Child-Centered Approach by @devildoll (Din & Grogu, Gen, 32k)

In which Grogu goes to school on Nevarro, Din chaperones a field trip, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

In These Soft Places by Ruuger (Din & Grogu, Gen, 1k)

Din's injuries from the battle catch up with him. Set right after Book of Boba Fett Chapter 7 ends.

Baby's Bounty by @ooops-i-arted (Din & Grogu, Gen, 4k, Parenting Shenanigans)

Din must hunt down a valuable bounty, and there will be dire consequences if he doesn’t find his quarry…

🔐 Out of Time by @ginnyq (Din & Grogu, Gen, 11k, Angst)

When a last-minute pit stop on the way to Tython turns deadly, Din has to ask Grogu to do something he hoped would never be necessary. But even successful plans have unforeseen outcomes, and the consequences are worse than he could have expected.

🔐 under the moon and stars by @oathkeeperoxas (Din & Grogu, Gen, 1k, Post-Season/Series 03)

Din indulges Grogu his favourite food, and decides to try something new that his son might like too.

💜 He is his father’s son (series) by @hinderr (Din & Grogu, warning this one is sad as hell, Grief/Mourning, POV Grogu)

Prince of a thousand enemies.

The Way Home by @starryreys (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2.5k, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence)

“Hey,” Cara’s voice from behind him suddenly startles him out of his thoughts. He turns around to look at her where she’s still standing in the doorway. “Are you alright?” she asks. He looks down to the kid in his arms, tired and hurt, but safe and here. “Yeah,” he says, “I am. (Din and Grogu make it off Gideon's light cruiser together, and Din removes his helmet for an entirely different reason.)

The Father by @starryreys (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k)

Din’s mother had given him a wavering smile before she hugged him goodbye. His father’s hands had been steady on his shoulders as he kissed his forehead. He hadn’t realized the strength it must have taken them not to crumble until now. Din watches the kid, his eyes never wavering, a small smile on his lips and a reassuring nod on his head. Din waits until his kid is gone from his eyeline. Then he crumbles.

Unleash Your Creativity by wingedcats (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Parenthood)

Din frowned. The silver-green smudge stared back up at him, revealing little. “It’s a self-portrait?” “Must be.” Cara hitched one shoulder in a shrug. “Lucky we’re chasing down a Jedi for him, not an artist. Doesn’t look like he’s got much of a future there.” “You don’t know that,” Din said, feeling unaccountably defensive. “He’s just a baby.” Din decides to give the Child an opportunity to explore his artistic side. With mixed results.

i can’t believe they just sent baby yoda off to boarding school by wellwhiskey (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 02)

“Was it worth it?” Gideon asks now. Cara knows he isn’t directing the question at Reeves. “Somehow it doesn’t feel like it was.” i'm sick of it i'm sick of star wars

Belonging by DistantStorm (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 02, The Book of Boba Fett, Luke Skywalker, 1.5k)

Luke believes he is observant, and yet— The Force itself seems to be laughing at him. Outside the stone framed window, Luke watches his student sit at the edge of the wildflower meadow near the stream, folded into a meditative pose. A white butterfly has landed on top of his head, and several more flit around him in a shimmer of pollen and sunlight.

🔐 Undying Sea, Unquenchable Dragonfire* by @renardroi (Din & Grogu, Gen, 10k, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies)

Kyramud, his mind tries to remind him. This is his enemy, this is the child-thief. But it seems even he is weak to the enchanting magics of the fey people, the allure of their wild beauty. They move and look and feel like a ballad that has come to life, a siren drawing him in so that they can drown him. Medieval Fantasy AU Mandalorians are a dying clade of knights, the jetiise are fey creatures.

(*I see the tags on this one but they aren't yet reflected in the work and the vibes are impeccable you'll just have to trust me)

The Last of His Name by @coffeequill (Din & Grogu, Gen, 36k, Alternate Universe - Fantasy)

“I don’t joust,” says Din, out of breath. “You do now,” says Cara, and she gives him a grin before swinging in again. He deflects it with a ring of the sliding metal. ---- After escaping the clutches of Moff Gideon, Din and his foundling travel the country in search of the boy's magical people, armed with naught but beskar and horse. As money runs tight, a return to bounty hunting seems their only option. Cara enlists his help in bringing in a difficult target, but help involves his participation in a tournament, competing for a handsome pay. To take care of his son, Din accepts, only to receive far more than he bargained for.

Boreas Sylvatica by @milokno (Din & Grogu, Gen, 17k, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Human Grogu)

Grogu stirs. His eyes flutter open, for just a moment, and he shifts closer to Din. He stares down at the kid. His own eyes soften. The sharp, jagged lines that divide his face don’t completely disappear, but they do fade. His legs still ache, and his exhaustion doesn’t loosen where it’s constricting around his ribs— digging into the bones that stick out, ever so slightly. All of it, though, becomes inferior to the warmth that spreads throughout his chest. OR While on a supply run, Din finds a child. They take care of each other.

💜 A Short Guide to Fatherhood by @burglarhobbit (Din & Grogu, Gen, 9k, Luke Skywalker, Ben Solo, Found Family, one of my favorites!)

“Well, development isn’t just for the child,” Skywalker says, inclining his head to Din. “It’s very good you’re taking the time to explain things to him that he may not yet understand, or to emphasise what he may already know but has not yet taken in very well. You can learn from him, as he does from you.” Din nods shakily, and Grogu, settled between his legs, leans into his body. Din’s hand ghosts over Grogu’s head, and he slowly pats the child. It feels awkward, with his gloves still on, but Grogu doesn’t move away. Skywalker moves on to the next parent in the circle, and Din feels as if he has passed another test of this so-called parenting thing. Or: Luke Skywalker does development circles with the parents of the students in his Academy. Din isn't yet sure if that's actually helpful or not.

home again, for the first time by @icecreambeach (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 03)

It’s time for Din and Grogu to rest, but not before Din does his Dad diligence. (post-season 3 finale spoilers)

Apostates and Ever Afters by DistantStorm (Din & Grogu, Gen, 1k, Found Family, The Book of Boba Fett)

A clan of two, reprised.

build it together by @ckerouac (Din & Grogu, Gen, 2k, Post-Season/Series 03, Family)

The house itself is small, but the two of them have never needed much space. After the events on Mandalore, Din and Grogu start to build their life on Nevarro.

cookies (to share) by @hinderr (Din & Grogu, Gen, 5k, Family Feels)

Happy Valentines day. You are loved <3 - Four things that Din Djarin learns, and one thing that Grogu Djarin has always known

#the mandalorian #clan of two #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #grogu #fanfiction rec list #star wars #lim on the mandalorian #lim posts #lim’s fic recs #please reblog! :D

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kaysfanficcorner · 2 years ago

Text

Out of This World Chapter 6:

Message In A Bottle

Author’s Note: Hey everyone!! Welcome to chapter 6. I genuinely hope you love this chapter as much as I do. I had so much fun writing it! We’re finally getting to the good stuff with these two! Please know that I took the liberty to make up some things about Nevarro for this chapter. This chapter was heavily inspired by the Strangers Like Me sequence in Tarzan from 1999, and I probably listened to it fifty times while writing this. Also if you haven’t figured it out already my take on Din is that he’s a sweet boy and a huge softy so be forewarned that it’s only going to get worse from here on out. If you’d like to join the taglist please let me know!

Summary: The Mandalorian and the Earthing spend a week on Nevarro enjoying their time together with the child.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of emotional abuse (in the past), mentions of thc use (in the past) , FLUFF, explicit sexual themes. This work of fiction is strictly 18+.

Music Inspiration:

Strangers Like Me - This song heavily inspired the themes of this chapter. Not referenced directly.

Head Over Heels - Directly mentioned

Moonage Daydream - Requested by @missbabyjay

Message In A Bottle - Directly referenced, themes inspired

I Saw the Light - This is the song that I envisioned at the very end of the chapter, not directly referenced

AO3

*****

“So I’ve been thinking,” you, the Earthling woman stuck in a galaxy on the other end of the vastly infinite universe, begin a conversation with your cosmic companion clad in Mandalorian beskar. You’re seated across from him at the very same restaurant where you had first sat across from each other and negotiated the terms of your sort-of employment upon his ship all those months ago.

Thinking about how nervous you felt around him that first time you’d met, compared to how comfortable you are in his presence now, brings a warm smile to your features as you bounce the kid in your lap. If someone had told you on that fateful Nevarro evening that you would be on the verge of completely falling for the guy by now, you’d have laughed in their faces. Sure, you had found him attractive in a weird way, but you’d expected it to start and end with that.

The fact that you’d almost slept with him only a few hours ago is hard to wrap your head around. It feels like that had been a dream. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin, goosebumps crawling up the back of your neck at the thought of how it’d felt to let him touch you so intimately. Idly, your free hand snakes up to your neck as you hold the little planet pendant he’d given you between your thumb and forefinger, letting the tiny thing run back and forth along the thin gold chain. Having him adorn you with jewelry was the highlight of that entire interaction.

Mando’s suddenly saying your name in his modulated voice as he waves a gloved hand in front of your face, and you snap out of the memory.

Laughing, you shake your head at him with a grin, “Shit, sorry. I got lost thinking about this morning.”

“Mm,” he responds, the way he hums letting you know that it’s been on his mind as well. Then he changes the subject back to what you’d started to say a moment go. “You said you’ve been thinking about something?” He urges you to finish your thought, head moving as he looks you over. You wonder if he’s raising an eyebrow at you, liking to think that he is.

“I want you to teach me how to be more like you,” you say plainly, eyeing him for a reaction.

“In what way?” Din asks skeptically.

A droid comes over and drops a bowl of unappetizing looking, half-alive food in front of the kid, who begins to slurp it up happily. You smile down at him before fixing your gaze back on the Mandalorian across from you, attempting to look serious. “To defend myself, to fight. I want to know how to protect myself without a blaster. I’d like to see if the warrior you think is inside me can find her way out.”

Mando stays quiet for a moment, watching the kid eat before he answers you. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, you reply, “Very much so. We’re only six years past the Galactic Civil War. Clearly I should know what I’m doing because that’s not going to be last last time any of us are in danger. And besides, I’d like to feel more like equals.”

Leaning forward, he drops his voice down low enough that only you and the kid can hear, “I don’t need you to fight like a Mandalorian for us to be equals, Cyar’ika.”

You roll your eyes a little, but a playful smirk pulls itself up the left side of your mouth. He’d told you back at the inn that cyar’ika is Mando’a for darling, so hearing him call you that in a public place is enough to make you feel giddy. Assuming that he’d said it in order to get his point across, you want to make sure that you get your own point across too.

“This isn’t for your benefit, Mando. It’s for mine. I genuinely want this.” Gaze serious, you long to reach across the table and touch his hand for further emphasis. The restaurant isn’t very crowded, but you abstain regardless.

He seems to mull this over for a moment, “If it is truly what you want, then will teach you how to fight like a Mandalorian. Training won’t be easy. It will take time and dedication.”

“I know I can do this, or rather, I want to prove to myself that I can do this. That I’m not just some weakling from a planet of humans that can barely make it to their own moon. I used to feel thankful that I was privileged enough to never know what fighting for my life felt like, but I think that my life was very small because I’ve never had to leave my comfort zone. I can’t shake this feeling that I was meant to be here, that there’s something out there in this galaxy for me. A bigger life, maybe. And besides, we’ve got all the time in the world,” you add with a little grin, “I’ll stay with you on the Space RV for as long as you’ll have me.”

Mando’s voice takes on a somber tone, “There is an open invitation for you to stay as long as you like. Even when the reason you joined me in the first place is no longer with us.”

He’s talking about the kid leaving, and your heart sinks at the thought of it. Eyes casting down to the child in your lap, your chest begins to ache. “So we’re really going through with that when we leave Nevarro again?”

Sighing, he nods once. “It is my duty.”

“I know, I just wish it didn’t have to be.”

“I know.”

Suddenly the seat beside you becomes occupied, and you look over to see Carasynthia Dune seated to your left. She looks between you and the Mandalorian and raises an eyebrow. “Why do you guys seem so miserable?”

Your eyes flick over to Din with a knowing glance, then back to Dune as you shake your head. “No reason. I guess we’re still pretty worn out.”

“Mando told me what happened. I know it’s hard, but for what it’s worth I’m proud of you,” she says, knocking into your shoulder with her own.

Odd as the sensation is, you’re thankful for her pride. It’s affirming to feel like you did the right thing, even if it was the morally comprising thing. “Thanks, Cara. Mando here was just agreeing to teach me how to fight properly. Hopefully next time something like that happens I’ll be more prepared.”

The Marshal looks over to the Mandalorian and then back to you with a little smirk. “Oh really? Well, while you’re here if you want any help from me I’d be glad to offer my services.”

Mando looks to you, “That’s not a bad idea. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve trained someone together.”

“And this is not as time-sensitive,” Cara adds.

You look between them with a raised brow, “Okay, that’s a story I expect to hear at some point. So when do we start?”

Cara shrugs, “I’m not busy today. Why not now?”

Once the child is finished eating, all parties involved vacate the restaurant and head for the outskirts of town. Nevarro really is growing into a city that could eventually be seen as a respectable place to settle down. It’s people are kind and polite, the physical structure of the town itself is growing more aesthetically appealing by the day. Greef Karga’s hard work seems to be paying off.

Eventually you realize that Cara is leading your group close to where you first fell from the sky when the black hole spat you out. You haven’t set foot here since the day it happened. Suddenly triggered by this realization, an odd feeling washes over you and you feel almost sick with anxiety thinking about the events which led to your arrival in this galaxy. What your family had put you through. How you had been wishing, praying to deities you don’t even believe in, for something to take you far away from everything bad in your life only to have it replaced with good.

An intrusive thought echoes through your fraught mind, and you imagine another black hole forcing itself open. Horrific black tentacles much like those in the Anzat’s dead face snake out of it’s abyss to catch hold of you and drag you back into it. Drag you back to your old life where you felt small, inadequate, and unloved.

Unthinking, you grab for Din’s hand and squeeze it. Shallow breathing starts to find you as you feel panic rising in your chest. You really don’t ever want to go back there, and it’s far more apparent to you now than it has been this entire time. Mando aside, the kid aside, and life in space aside, you know in your rapidly thumping heart that should you go back to Earth something in you would die forever.

Cara is a few paces up ahead walking beside the child, so Din squeezes your hand back and looks down to address you with a low voice full of concern, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, “She’s leading us close to where I landed when the black hole spit me out. It’s probably a five minute walk from here.”

“Does this frighten you?”

“A little,” you try to breathe slowly, “I don’t know why but I got scared that another one might snatch me up and send me back, and now my heart is so full of dread that I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t go back there, Mando. I fucking refuse.”

“It’s incredibly illogical that it would happen,” your Mandalorian tries to soothe.

“I know, but that’s how afraid I am to go back. I never told you what happened that day, did I?”

He looks ahead to Cara and the kid, then he shakes his head once and looks back over to you, “Only in so many words. The subject seems sensitive to you so I never pressed.”

You sigh, “I hate thinking about this, but I’d like you to understand why I feel this way.”

*****

Earth. 2023. Day of the Incident.

Blasting “Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears at nearly full volume, you’re screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs as you dance around in the driver seat of your blue Honda Civic at a stop light. The old girl has seen better days, with one speaker on the verge of death, a broken glove box, and no sun visor on the driver side of the windshield. It had just fallen off into your lap one day, as most things in this vehicle have just decided to give up on you mid drive. It’s a piece of shit, but it was the first car you bought as an adult so you love it regardless and fully intend to drive it into the ground before you eventually buy something else.

You’re having a great day. One of the better days you’ve had in recent memory. It’s been two months since Grandad was declared legally dead, and one month since the funeral you did not attend.

That being said, you decided to take a few days off from work and give yourself a mini stay at home vacation so you’ve been out enjoying yourself all day. Full of edibles and your favorite shitty mall cheese fries, you’d taken yourself out on a movie date. It’s been a while since you’d been to the theater, so you went for a double feature. A new horror movie that only kinda sucked, and the next installment of a stupid comedy series you’ve enjoyed since high school.

You feel more at ease as the lovely day goes on, and when it finally comes time to go back home you enjoy blaring your music so loud that you’re sure that this is the day the right speaker will finally give up on you. But you could care less. You’re actually enjoying yourself for once.

Then you pull into the driveway of your home, and all of the color drains from your face as your heart sinks into your feet.

Your Grandmother is here. With some guy you don’t recognize. Anger rises in your chest like a pot that’s about to boil over. She looks so polished on the surface. Immaculate hair and makeup, fine jewelry and clothing. But under the facade you know that there’s a heart of stone and a narcissistic personality just waiting to show themselves.

Gritting your teeth, you get out of the car and shake your head at the intruders. “Fuck off,” you say firmly, “I don’t want whatever it is your selling.”

Your Grandmother scowls at you, wrinkled face contorting into an ugly sneer. Her voice has a thick layer of fake sweetness to it, “That’s not very kind, sweetheart.”

You snort, “Oh, how silly of me. I forgot my manners. Fuck off, please.”

“I would watch how you speak to me, young woman. This is my lawyer, Mr. Burns. You wouldn’t want to do something that’ll get you into trouble. Again.” She looks so pleased with herself, and you wish there was a way you could deck her and get away with it.

Slamming the car door, you come to stand on the walkway that leads to the front door of your little rancher home. “Well I guess I should thank my lucky stars that you didn’t call the cops on me again. Oh, wait, I haven’t fucking done anything. Just like last time. You’re the one trespassing on my property. Maybe I should return the favor and give them a ring.”

“This is not your property,” she says with a smirk.

“Yes it is. He left it to me. You read the same will that I did.”

Your Grandmother looks to the lawyer. A sniveling little man with a bald spot and glasses, he adjusts said spectacles and looks at you with an awkward facial expression.

Mr. Burns clears his throat, “Upon researching the legal documents surrounding this property, I found a discrepancy. Your grandmother was never removed from the deed because your grandfather missed a page upon signing the document, so therefore her removal is not valid. You’re welcome to find legal representation and fight my firm on this matter in court, but your grandmother is still a homeowner and you are not.”

“That’s… No. That’s fucking impossible. Leave me alone, get out of my life.”

“Filthy-mouthed Godless brat,” the old woman sneers at you, making you want to curl up into yourself like a little kid again. She’s had this effect on you for most of your life and it’s infuriating that she can still make you feel so small and worthless.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask in a tiny voice, angry at yourself for cracking under the pressure of her evil gaze.

“Because I intend to take what’s mine. Perhaps if you had not betrayed your family we could have made some kind of arrangement, but that ship has sailed.”

“I love that I stood up for myself and tried to call you all out for abusing me and I ‘betrayed’ you. You’re a fucking psycho. All of you are dead to me.”

The crone looks almost hurt for a moment, and then her face becomes sour again. She’s never looked more ugly to you. “You have until this time tomorrow to get out. If you’re still here when I come back, I’ll be calling the police. You can leave your keys under the mat. Don’t try to keep them, I’ll be changing the locks when the house goes up on the market so it won’t do you any good.”

Dread fills your heart, eyes tearing up. You refuse to let yourself cry in front of her, to give her any satisfaction. “I can’t move all of my things out in a day. I have nowhere to go.”

She waves you off as if what you said is irrelevant. “I guess you’ll have to figure that out. I’ll have the rest of your belongings put in the garage and you can come get them at your leisure. If they are still there when I’m ready to sell the house I’m giving it all to a thrift store. Enjoy your last night here, sweetie.”

And with that, the horrible woman who you will no longer think of as your grandmother and the lawyer leave. You’re left standing in your front yard with your heart ripped from your chest. As soon as their vehicles are gone, you drop down to your knees and begin to sob.

Shakily, you pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and begin typing out frantic text messages to any of the friends you think might let you crash on their couches for a few days.

Your entire world is crumbling down around you, and you sincerely want to die for a few minutes.

Then you suddenly realize that dying would only give your family the satisfaction of knowing they won, so you pull yourself up from the grass and rush over to let yourself in. You don’t know how, but you’re going to find a way to fight for this house. It means too much to you. You can’t just give up.

Upon entering the house a new wave of anxiety and sadness floods your system, but you try to keep a level head as best as you can. Jupiter comes to greet you, and you pat her on the head with a shaky hand.

“We’ve got to take a little trip, homegirl. This is going to suck for a while but it’s going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.” You say down to her, reassuring yourself more than her.

She meows in response, so you nod. Before jumping to crazy conclusions, you need to see these legal documents for yourself and confirm that what you’ve been told is true. There’s a chance that some of this was your grandmother bluffing. But first things first, you need to charge your phone and pack a bag in case this threat is real and your grandmother isn’t just trying to scare you into leaving.

So you plug your phone into the charger in the kitchen and scramble around the house with your huge purple pet carrier backpack, frantically throwing in random items you think you’re going to need. Clothes, the iPad and it’s charger, and for some reason you throw nail polish in. Some of the items you pack don’t make sense, but you’re riddled with anxiety and it’s keeping your scattered mind from thinking straight.

Then you go down to the basement, Jupiter in tow. This is where your grandfather’s very seventy’s looking office is located, and aside from cleaning it you’ve left everything in it’s proper place and barely touched anything in the five years he’s been gone. The hope that he’d return one day never once leaving your heart.

The room is covered in yellow shag carpet and wood paneling on the walls. Your grandfather’s scientific triumphs are on display all other the room, either hung up or on display beside his library of books. A telescope almost as long as you are tall is set up on a tripod facing the one small window.

Sitting down at the large wooden desk, you begin rifling around through drawers to see if there’s anything related to the house you can find. Most of it is scientific paperwork that makes absolutely no sense to you, so you slam a frustrated palm down on the mahogany surface.

You have no idea what you did, but a compartment opens up and a little metal prong with what looks like a repurposed GoPro camera pops out of the desk. Blinking at it, you whisper to yourself, “What the fuck…?”

To which a robotic voice responds, “Voice recognition accepted. Beginning facial recognition scan.” A little red light like a laser pointer shines in your face from the prong, and the voice comes back with, “Facial recognition accepted. Beginning fingerprint recognition scan.”

And then the coster beside your grandfathers cigar ashtray lights up, and you’re so dumbfounded that you just stare at it.

“No fingerprint found. Re-initiating scan.”

“Shit,” you mumble, sticking your right index finger down onto the glowing pad.

“Fingerprint recognition accepted. Welcome,” the robotic voice greets you by name and your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.

The carpeted floor below the desk slides open to reveal a hatch leading straight down. Jumping down to your hands and knees, you try the wheel on the door and with some effort you’re able to pull it open. A thin tunnel with a ladder leading straight down into darkness is what greets you on the other side. Waving a hand down in the hole, you trigger the motion activated lights and watch as the tunnel illuminates itself for you. It looks to go about fifteen or twenty feet down.

“This has got to be a dream,” you mumble. Jupiter comes over to sniff around at the hole, so you scoop her up in one arm. “I’m not going down there alone, little miss.”

With Jupiter inside of her area of the backpack and the large thing strapped to your back, you carefully position yourself at the top of the ladder and begin a slow descent. It takes a moment, but your feet finally touch solid ground again and you’re suddenly standing in what is clearly a large laboratory. It’s so big that you know it has to run under some of the neighbors’ houses as well as your own.

“So you had a secret lab and you never told me?” You ask yourself, addressing the father figure who is obviously not there. All of this is so incredibly hard for you to process.

It smells like a hospital, and the walls are all a clinical white. Equipment that you can’t even begin to wrap your head around is all over the room. It all looks like something out of Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi classic “2001: A Space Odyssey”, which was your grandfather’s favorite movie of all time. You wonder if the design is intentional. There isn’t a single window or obvious other entrance. The hole you came down in is likely the only way in or out.

Which is why you begin to panic when it suddenly shuts and locks itself.

“Shit, no no no.” You put your backpack down and scramble back up the ladder, shoving on the door. After trying to find some way to open it and failing, you figure that there’s got to be some sort of control for it down in the lab, so you climb back down.

Jupiter’s part of the backpack wasn’t completely zipped, and the cat has wiggled her way free by the time your sneaker covered feet touch the floor again. When you look over to see her walking around on some of the equipment and it begins to light up and make noise, you curse again and run after her with the backpack.

“Hey, stop that. I have no idea what this shit does and I don’t need you turning things on.” You nearly grab her but she jumps from one machine to anther, landing on ever more buttons and knocking a leaver into the opposite direction.

Then the room begins to shake as a circular pad on the floor glows. The cat jumps on a few more buttons and then comes to land on the eerily glowing floor. Rushing to her, you scoop her up in your arms, fighting her as she tries to escape your grasp.

“Would you sit still? You might have really fucked us over on this one, Jupiter.”

A loud noise takes over your senses, your body tingling all over. You realize that you suddenly can’t move, everything becoming incredibly bright as you scream. After that everything fades to black completely.

*****

Nevarro. Present Day.

You look at Din as you finish telling him the story, feeling vulnerable and tired after reliving such a horrible memory. His body language seems on edge for a moment.

Then he stops walking to pull you into a hug. His voice is laced with animosity, “Those people are not your family. A clan should treat it’s members with respect and admiration.”

“I’ve known that for a long time, Mando,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him. “I’m glad they aren’t in my life anymore. I don’t want a family like that.” You can’t help but think that the family you do want is literally holding you, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“Not to interrupt,” Cara’s voice breaks your train of thought, “but we’re here.”

Looking around, you notice that she’s brought you to what looks like a little arena. Volcanic rock surrounding it, there’s a large and nearly perfect circular section of flat surface. The area is very secluded, far enough away from town that it’ll serve as a great practice ring.

“We‘ll be right behind you,” Mando says, and Cara takes the hint enough to walk away with the kid in tow.

You and Din break apart from each other, Din keeping a hand on your shoulder as he looks down at you. It’s not often that you wish to see him without his helmet, but this is one of those instances. “So now you know why I don’t want to go home,” you say with misty eyes, “why I can’t stand the thought of it. There’s literally nothing for me there.”

Din responds by leaning his head down to gently bump foreheads with you in a Mandalorian kiss. His head lingers there for a moment. “This can be your home,” he whispers.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” you counter, looking right into the visor.

“I mean it,” Din breathes. He lifts up, motioning for you to follow as he begins making his way over to where Cara is waiting for the two of you. Then he laughs a little and looks back over his shoulder at you, “That cat is not allowed in the cockpit by herself anymore. I don’t need her jumping us to the other end of the galaxy.”

You laugh as well, “I try not to let her up there unless she’s supervised.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I find her sleeping up there and you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Butthead,” you poke your tongue out at him, grinning when he makes a noise of feigned offense.

Joining Cara and the kid, you look between both of your warrior friends and clap your hands together. “Alright guys, what are we going to start with? Punching? Kicking?”

Din and Cara look at each other and nod, then back to you. Cara smirks, “Hold your banthas, you’ve got to learn how to dodge an oncoming attack before you can even think about attacking first.”

“Blocking and dodging are essential,” Din agrees with a nod.

You can’t help but groan.

*****

“I can’t feel my legs, you’re gonna have to carry me back.”

Din watches you throw a dramatic hand to your head, leaning back against a rock as you pretend to pass out. The short, purple hair upon your head is nearly soaked through, laying in damp little clumps on your forehead. The impractical Earth shirt that you’d been wearing the first time Din ever saw you is equally soaked through, clinging to your form. He’s never seen you strain your body with exercise in the way he did today, and how hard you pushed yourself only serves to make you more lovely to him.

Cara is already back in town, having been called away on marshal business, so its just the three of you out here as the sun begins to set. The sky is turning a lovely shade of violet above each of your heads.

Din comes to squat down in front of you, shaking his helmeted head, “It hasn’t even been one day.”

Opening one eye to look at him, you grin widely, “I was just being silly. To be fair you guys did make me squat more than I’ve ever squatted in my entire life. My thighs are on fire. And my arm hurts where she punched me.”

You’d taken a few of Cara’s hits before getting the hang of blocking them, but none of it had discouraged you. In fact, it only seemed to egg you on harder.

“I told you this wouldn’t be easy,” he replies with a playful tone.

You throw him a pointed look, “I don’t want this to be easy. I’m trying to challenge the expectations I have for myself.”

Under the beskar Din is smiling very warmly at you, “I’m teasing. You did very well today, Cyar’ika.”

“Thanks,” you groan a little as you stretch your legs out straight, “I can’t wait until we move on from blocking and dodging. This sucks.”

“Soon enough,” Din agrees. He looks over to the pram where the kid is out cold, smile faltering for a moment. Taking the kid to his own kind has been on his mind all day, and he wants to avoid it for as long as he possibly can. An incredibly irresponsible idea strikes him, and he looks back to you with hopeful eyes in spite of the fact that you cannot see them. “I was going to suggest we leave Nevarro in another day or so, but perhaps we should extend our stay for a little longer. I can’t train you as well on the ship as I can here. There isn’t enough room.”

Your brow reaches up towards your hairline, following his gaze to the pram and then back to him. “Isn’t that going to interfere with things?”

Din shakes his head, “It shouldn’t. A week won’t be that much of a delay. We might as well make the most of our time here while we have it.”

You seem pleased with his suggestion, a beautiful little smile playing at your lips. “I’ll have to make runs to the ship to go check on the cat, but I’m not opposed to staying for a little longer.”

Standing, Din holds both of his gloved hands out to you. You take each one of his appendages in your own, letting him gently pull you up from the ground. Once you’re standing to full height again he pulls you the rest of the way into him, wrapping his arms around you. Din leans his head onto your shoulder with a sigh, eyes slipping closed as he breathes in your scent.

“None of this is easy for me,” his voice is barely a whisper.

Din feels you begin to rub circles into his lower back with your left hand, cradling his metal covered head onto you with your right. “You mean us? Whatever this is between us?” You ask quietly into his neck, sounding faintly afraid.

He shakes his head on you, “You. The kid. I’m not used to caring for other people this much.”

Mumbling into his shoulder, your voice is full of mixed emotions, “What about the other Mandalorians from your covert?”

“That’s… different,” he says, “It’s tied to a sense of duty. With you, there’s no duty involved. I just want this. I want you. And with the kid, it started as a sense of duty but now it’s grown into something else entirely.”

“It sounds to me like you love him, Din. Like any good parent loves their child.”

“But I have to do what’s right, what’s best for him.”

You pull back enough to look at him again, but you don’t break the embrace. “No offense, but who are we to decide what’s best for him?”

Din’s head tilts down, gaze somber behind the visor. “When he meets his own kind, it will be up to him to decide. This is The Way.”

“Maybe one day I’ll truly understand what that means,” you say with a small laugh.

“One day,” Din repeats almost dreamily.

Dislodging yourself from his arms, you take a step back and yawn. “So I don’t know about you, but I could really use a shower and another night of sleep in that big comfy bed.”

Din nods, modulator hissing a little as he responds, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Nightfall comes rapidly on Nevarro thanks to it’s orbital path, so by the time the three of you reach the inn it’s incredibly dark out already. Luckily reptavians don’t fly this early, so Din isn’t worried about catching one’s eye. The kid stays asleep the entire time, curled up in a little blanket inside of the closed pram as it floats beside Din to the left. You walk beside him on the right, and he worries that he’s pushed you too hard as he watches you struggle to take full steps by the end of the short journey.

“Make sure you stretch,” Din says as you’re entering the rented room, “Those muscles are going to feel even worse tomorrow.”

“I was already planning on it,” you reply with a groan, throwing your bag down on the bed to dig out a change of dress. “But first, I need to get these damp clothes off and feel clean again. Can I go first?” Gesturing towards the fresher, you jab a thumb in its general direction.

“Of course,” Din agrees, enjoying the look of happiness that crosses your features.

“Thanks, I’ll be out soon.” And with that, you’re shutting yourself into the small space. Din can hear the water running on the other side of the door.

Din stands there for a moment, just staring at the fresher door. He knows exactly what he wants to do next, but he’s unsure if its the right thing to do. To Hell with it, his own voice eventually whispers inside his head. He begins to strip himself of all armor and heavy clothing, placing it on the desk as he had the night before. Once he’s down to just a shirt and pants, he double checks that the child is indeed sleeping deeply inside of the pram and ensures that the pod is shut again when he’s done surveying his foundling. Hopefully the kid will just stay asleep for the remainder of the night, but just incase he won’t Din needs to execute his plan as quickly as possible.

He moves to the fresher door, knocking lightly.

“It’s unlocked if you need something,” your voice filters through from the other side.

And so Din enters the fresher, closing the door behind him. He chooses not to speak as he looks at the frosted shower door, the silhouette of your naked body on the other side filling him with a warmth that he once thought to be dormant inside him. It’s not even a clear view of you, but damn are you stunning.

The shower itself is roomier than the narrow thing back on the Razor Crest, with the rest of the fresher being of a much nicer quality as well. Half the time Din just uses the sonic while back on the ship, simply because it’s less of a hassle. This room, however, was intended for people to luxuriate themselves. The one on the Crest was intended to get the job done.

“Hello?” You eventually call out, voice puzzled.

It’s now or never, so he begins to remove his pants and undergarments followed by his shirt. The mirror is already fogging up considerably, but he catches a glimpse of himself in its hazy reflection and admires his physique for a moment. Nude save for the beskar upon his head, he sincerely hopes that this next move is going to go over well with you.

Din’s hand grabs for the shower door handle, gently sliding the thing open. He doesn’t look at you yet, though. He feels as if he should be granted permission first.

You squeak out his name again in a questioning tone, voice sounding genuinely surprised.

“I was hoping I could join you,” he says quietly, his own voice low as his eyes continue to cast downward and away from you. All he can see is your feet.

Din begins to worry that he’s overstepped his bounds when you don’t answer right away, but then he feels a wet hand wrap around his wrist and he’s suddenly being yanked forward.

“I would love for you to join me,” the tone of your voice is so lovely in this moment that Din’s chest swells at the sound of it.

He looks at you then, breath hitching in his throat as his eyes soak up every inch of your gorgeous body. Hot water bounces off of your supple skin, some of it running in miniature streams down your thighs. He follows the trail all the way up to the lovely patch of hair between your legs, then up past your hips and bellybutton to the exquisite breasts. What really sends Din over the edge, is the fact that you’re still wearing the necklace he gave you on the slim neck he wishes he could sink his teeth into.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes. Then he realizes that you’ve been doing the same exact thing, admiring his naked body for the first time with hungry eyes.

“Fucking perfect,” you breathe back, and finish pulling him all the way into the shower.

Din slides the door shut behind him, moving into the hot water with sharp hiss. “You really like to burn, don’t you?” He chuckles.

You giggle a little, wet hair falling in your face as you look up him. “What can I say? I love hot showers. Is the helmet going to fog up on you?”

His hands find your hips, gripping slightly. “No, its designed to withstand most conditions. I can see just fine.”

“Mm,” you hum, mimicking the sound he often makes when he doesn’t have much to say at first. “What about washing your face? Or your hair?”

He shrugs, “When you’re finished I’ll just stay in a little longer.” You seem to look a little uncomfortable for a moment, so Din brings a hand up to move some of the hair from your eyes. “What is it?”

“I don’t really want the first time we have sex to be in a shower.”

“That was not my intention,” hidden, Din can’t help but smile fondly at you, “I just wanted to be close to you.”

“Well in that case,” you shuffle forward a little, pressing your bare body to his as you snake your arms around his neck.

Din has no idea how long the two of you are in there together, but in his mind it mind it goes on for hours. Hands all over as you wash one another, slowly scouring fleshy new terrain. Examining each other’s forms with almost scientific interest, each of you treating the other like some sort of glorious discovery. Lips on his chest for the first time over a decade. There is so much physical touch that Din nearly gets dizzy from it at one point. His entire body tingles with sensations he’s not sure he’s ever felt, bright sparks constantly cascading throughout his nerve endings. He inevitably grows hard from it at one point, but neither of you bother to address it.

Eventually you declare that you’re ready to get out and go to bed, so you rise up on the balls of your feet to peck the side of his helmet, and suddenly Din is completely by himself in the water. You dry off and throw on some fresh clothes, and once you’re completely gone from the fresher Din slides the helmet from his head. He sets it on the counter just outside of the shower, finishing up with the quick routine of cleansing himself.

Once he’s done and standing in front of the fogged mirror, he wipes away at the cool surface in order to see his reflection. Din is sure he’s never looked this relaxed.

When he enters back into the room, clothed and helmeted once again, he finds you already curled up in the bed under the blanket.

Yawning, you gesture over to the kid’s pod, “Let’s keep the kid in the pram tonight. There’s no point in moving him if he’s comfortable.”

“Fair point,” Din agrees, killing the lights before coming to join you.

It’s not pitch black, so the two of you can still faintly see each other, Din more so than you with the helmet’s technology. You roll onto your side facing towards him, and he lays down facing towards you.

“I just realized something and I’m a little embarrassed,” you whisper shyly.

“What?” Din asks.

Giggling, you cover your eyes with one hand but splay your fingers out so that you can still look at him. “How old are you?”

Din quietly laughs, “Have we never talked about this?”

“I guess not.”

“How old do you think I am?”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, head in your hand, you squint at him for a long moment. “Forty-seven.”

“Thanks, I’m glad that I seem old.” Below the beskar Din is grinning at you cheekily.

“Hey! I was just guessing! You’re kinda rugged, so I figured you were way older than me,” you squint at him even harder, “Are you older than me?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “Yes, but not by that much. I’m thirty-eight.”

“Okay, so eight years older than me. Hmm what else haven’t I found out about yet?” Looking him up and down, your squinting eyes suddenly widen. “Oh shit! Your hair! Is it dark or light? My guess is dark based off of your body hair.”

“Mhm, dark. It’s brown. Somewhat curly.”

“Facial hair?”

He nods, “A little bit. I like to at least keep a mustache and some on my chin. I look… odd without a mustache.”

You scoff, “I thought you said you don’t have a problem with the way you look.”

“I don’t. I said I look odd, not bad.”

“Okay that’s fair. What about your eyes? I’m going to guess green.”

He shakes his head, smiling. Din adores the fact that you’re this enamored with him. “Brown.”

You close your eyes for a long moment, a content smile of your own crossing your features. “I’m trying to imagine you. Do you have any scars or anything like that? Missing half an eyebrow on one side?”

“Not really. I have both eyebrows. My nose is normal, if not a little big.”

“Well now I’m convinced that I’m right, you’ve got to be handsome in there.” You gently tap the beskar with one finger.

Din’s face becomes serious, unbeknownst to you, so his voice changes to match the seriousness on his face as he gestures towards his head, “I’m... grateful that you find me attractive with this on.”

You seem shocked by this, “Are you kidding? That thing is downright sexy. I can’t explain it, there’s just something about it. Maybe it’s how you wear it. The fact that you can just turn your head and say nothing but it completely changes the tone of a conversation. Your personality still manages to shine through the physical barrier. You know how to express yourself without anyone being able to see your real facial expressions.”

Din shrugs, “I had to learn how to do that.”

“I actually worry that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “is weird for you because I’m not a Mandalorian and I don’t wear one of those.”

Looking you over, Din decides to admit the thing he’s never spoken out loud to another person before, “I’m not proud of this, but I’ve never been able to see another mandalorian in the way that you see me. The helmet is not alluring to me.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you say quietly, frowning, “you are allowed to be attracted to whoever or whatever you want. Unless… oh shit, is this actually forbidden or something? Are we breaking some sort of sacred Mandalorian rule?”

Din shakes his head, “No. A Mandalorian is not required to take another Mandalorian as a mate. A bond is all that is required for a connection between two individuals to be considered valid.”

You grin, eyebrows shooting up, “So are we each other’s mate?”

Din had almost said the word “lover” a moment ago, it had been on the very tip of his tongue. Afraid that it would be the wrong thing to say, he’d instead gone with “mate” and now that you’ve jokingly pointed it out he feels incredibly awkward for his choice of wording. This is why he never used to talk unless he had to. In an attempt to recover he says, “Only if you want to be.”

“I think I could be cool with that.”

He’s confused by your odd turn of phrase, but he can tell that you meant it in a positive way. Scooting towards him, you spin yourself around and press your backside up against Din’s front. He instinctively curls his legs up to catch yours, wrapping one arm around you as he pulls you in close.

You both fall asleep in less time than it usually takes, comfort and contentment aiding two weary souls in finding rest.

*****

As the week goes on, you find yourself spending every day out by the lava fields of Nevarro learning hand to hand combat from your Mandalorian. Sometimes Cara joins your group, sometimes its just you, Din, and the kid.

On the second day, you force Din to do yoga with you so you can stretch out the tight leg muscles from the day before. It’s hilarious to see him do some of the poses, being that he insists on leaving all of his armor on. He’s covered in beskar attempting to do “happy baby”, and you really have to hold in your laughter because you don’t want him to think you’re picking on him. The kid joins in too, following your movements with much more ease than his father figure.

“A happy baby would never lay like this,” Din huffs, rocking as he struggles to keep hold of his booted feet. He finally gives up and lets his legs fall back down to the ground, rolling over to jab a finger towards his green foundling who is rolling around on his tiny back with his legs in the air. “I’ve certainly never seen him do that and he’s happy most of the time.”

Laughing, you sit up and shake your head at him. “It’s just a dumb name for it, it’s not supposed to be hyper-realistic.”

Later, after learning how to get out of a chokehold from behind, you take a break to do some art with the kid. It’s the first time you’ve broken out the set of supplies that Din bought on Nar Shaddaa, and the kid has a blast with it. At one point while you’re drawing flowers and animals on your board, the kid is drawling little scribbles on his own. Din’s seated beside you holding the kid in his lap, watching his foundling draw with interest.

When the kid turns around and holds up his work of art with a string of babbles, Din makes an odd little noise. It sounds choked, and it instantly grabs your attention.

“Wow, buddy. Is that us?” He sounds amazed as he lovingly pats him on the head, “Great job, kid.”

“Let me see, Green Bean.” You lean over to look at the kid’s art board, and your mouth drops open. To a stranger it would barely pass for a comprehensible picture, looking like three heaps of multicolored scribbles. But you can clearly see that the three scribbles are supposed to be Din, the kid, and yourself. The child’s green and tan form with big ears poking out is nestled between a back and purple scribble with extra purple on top, and a brown and silver scribble with a wiggly black T shape over the silver circle meant to be the head. The two big scribbles look to be holding hands above the green scribble’s head, long janky shapes meant to be arms touching each other at the ends.

Tears fill your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion for this little child. You lean forward with your eyes closed and press a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his small hand lift up to touch your neck. An image crosses your mind then, one of the Mandalorian and yourself raising the child as your own, and you have to force yourself not to get lost in it. After this little vacation the plan is still to find where he belongs and take him there, and your heart is already cracked in two at the mere thought of it.

“Great job, little dude,” you say with a grin when you sit up to look down at him again, “You’re such a good kid. You know that, right?”

“You really are,” Din agrees, scooping the kid up in his gloved hands as he lays down on his back, “The best kid in the galaxy.” He holds the green child up in the air, pretending that the little guy is a tiny starship as Din makes all kinds of mouth noises to simulate the act of flying. It’s hands down the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen Din do.

It is in that moment that your heart swells to the point of being painful and you realize how much you love these two people. What they truly mean to you. Din had said that you should all make the most of this respite on Nevarro, and so you intend to enjoy this time with the three of you all together as much as you can. Soaking in every second of it is your new priority for the next couple of days.

*****

On the third day, you finally get to see what the kid’s powers are really like when he uses them to tear Cara off of you. She has you in a pretty good chokehold, wanting to see what Din had taught you the day before, but she actually chokes you to hard for a moment and the kid does not respond well to seeing you unable to breathe. Cara suddenly goes flying back a few feet, landing on her ass. You cough and sputter, catching your breath again.

“Really?!” Dune glares at the kid, “This force crap again? I am not trying to hurt her.”

“Easy,” Din says, stepping in front f the kid’s pram. “He’s protective of us, and I didn’t like the way you were choking her either.”

Cara rolls her eyes, “She’s going to have to learn what the real thing feels like if she’s going to have any hope of defending herself.”

“Cara’s not wrong,” you say, rubbing at your neck. You move over to where the kid is looking up at you with concern in his big eyes, throwing a thumbs up his way. “I’m okay, Green Bean. Promise.”

“Fine,” Mando grunts, helping Cara up from the ground. “You and I should spar a little to show her what correct form looks like.”

“You’re on,” Cara agrees with a smirk.

You take a seat on a rock next to the kid’s pram, watching as the two warriors square up to fight each other. You really do try your best to keep an eye on both of them and take mental notes, but watching the Mandalorian move with so much ease as he dips and dodges from Cara’s oncoming attacks is so distracting. Every move, every tiny gesture, makes your head swim and your core heat up. He’s mesmerizing to watch, quickly spinning himself behind Cara’s back and pulling her into a chokehold. Cara breaks free, dropping down and spinning to push both hands into Din’s stomach. He grunts, taking a step back to steady himself.

“So that’s how it should look, but remember that how it feels is equally important... Are you listening?”

It takes you a moment to realize that Din is talking and you quickly try to recover, but Cara laughs at you and speaks first. “She’s got stars in her eyes, Mando.”

“I was paying attention, I swear!”

*****

This continues on for the rest of the week. You learn more in those few days than you thought possible in such a short amount of time, but you’re well aware that you’ll have a lot more to learn before you’re anywhere close to Din’s level of skill or Cara’s.

It’s the final day of your Nevarro vacation, as you’ve been calling it, and you find yourself seated at the city’s one restaurant again for breakfast. You’ve got the kid in your lap as you both eat, with Cara seated across from you. Din’s back at the inn eating his breakfast in private, so the two of you are enjoying a little girl time before he comes back.

You take a sip of caf, sighing into the cup as you look at Cara with mixed emotions. “Is it bad that I don’t want to leave? This week has been great.”

Cara shakes her head, “No, but I know Mando is still hung up on finding out where the kid belongs.”

“It’s his duty,” you reply flatly, “I have to respect that even if I don’t really agree with it.”

“So what’s going on with you two, anyway?” Cara’s question is surrounded by a bite of her food.

“I mean, I guess we’re a thing?” You shrug, “I’m trying to take this one day at a time.”

“So have you,” she looks down at the kid with a scrunched expression, “you know?”

“No. Almost, but no.” You sigh into your mug of caf again, eyeing her carefully as you consider what you want to say next. “I think I love him, Cara.”

It feels incredibly bizarre to say it out loud, despite having felt it and thought it for days.

“I thought that was obvious,” she says, grinning a little.

Rolling your eyes, you groan, “Why do I want to throw things at you when we have these conversations?”

“Because I’m right. And because I can see that you’re still spending too much time over thinking everything.” Your first friend in this galaxy’s face suddenly becomes serious as she sits her bowl of food down on the table, looking right into your eyes. “Listen, I lived through a pretty awful war and I’ve seen a lot of horrible shit in my day. I’ve lost a lot of people who I’ve cared for. The rebellion fought for freedom so that people could worry about things like love, and not when the Empire was going to show up and ruin their lives at a moments notice. Take it from someone who waited too long and missed their chance. This life is too short not to get what you want out of it.”

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod at her and extend gratitude for her little dose of wisdom. “Thanks, Cara. You’re a good friend.”

“You’re welcome.”

The kid makes a mess of his brown robe, so you sit him on the table to clean him off and that’s when you notice how crowded the restaurant is. It hasn’t been this crowded all week. Not once.

“What’s the all the hullabaloo about today?” Cara seems confused by your choice of wording so you laugh, “Why’s it so busy today? Is something going on?”

“Oh,” Dune says, “It’s a holiday.”

“How have I been here all week and not known this?”

She shrugs, “Beats me. Twice a year there’s an atmospheric anomaly that causes what the locals call a ‘light show’ at sundown. Nevarro holds a bi-annual festival in its honor, the ‘Festival of Lights.’ One in the warm part of the year to represent rebirth and life, and one in the cold part of the year to honor death. We’re coming up on the colder season, so today is the latter.”

You can’t help but grin, “That’s so cool. My favorite holiday back on Earth was all about honoring death, and it also marked the beginning of the cold season. It’s kind of lost it’s original meaning at this point though. So what’s this ‘light show’ look like?”

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself when the sun sets.”

Holding the kid below each armpit, you bounce him on the table top a little as you imagine him dressed in an Earth Halloween costume. “On Earth we dressed up as various creatures on Halloween as part of the celebration. Maybe I should find you a little witch hat, kiddo.”

*****

After finishing his morning meal, Din sets out on the streets of Nevarro to meet you and the child at the restaurant and is shocked to see the city streets so full of life. There are vendors setting up small tables of goods to be sold, street performers preparing for their acts, and most people are dressed in pinks and purples which match the banners decorating the street lights.

“Mando!” Greef Karga’s boisterous voice interrupts his train of thought, and Din looks to his left to see the man himself approaching. “I’m glad you’re here. Today is going to be a very special day for Nevarro!”

“I didn't realize it was already that time of the year,” Din remarks, having been present for more than a few of the bi-annual light shows. It’s beauty is certainty a sight to behold, and he’s suddenly very excited at the prospect of you and the kid getting to see it for yourselves.

Karga nods, grinning. “This year is going to be different. We’ve gone all out, spared no expense. And I’ll be making a speech in regards to Nevarro’s future as a respectable planet. The outer rim doesn’t have to be all outlaws and old Empire outposts. As of today I will no longer be a part of The Guild, and all trade here is to be done respectfully and legally.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Din agrees, continuing in the direction of the restaurant with Karga in tow.

“I hear you’re planning to leave tomorrow,” the older man says.

“I still have a mission to accomplish,” Din responds.

Karga stops and holds out his hand, Din takes it and the two men shake. “Well, please know that there is always a place for you and yours here if you ever wish to stay.”

“Thank you, Greef.”

Karga breaks off to mingle with more of the locals, and Din makes the rest of his way to the restaurant.

Upon entering, he sees you and stops for a moment. Your back is to him, and you’re holding the child to stand on top of the table at which you’re seated. Cara is seated across from you, laughing, and you lean forward to touch noses with the kid as he also laughs and grabs at your purple hair.

The sight of it warms him, and when he realizes that this will be the last day of pretending that things aren’t about to get very uncomfortable in regards to the child, a chill cuts through that feeling of warmth. Little pangs of pain jab him in the heart, but he remembers his creed and takes a deep breath to steady himself. Painful as it may be, This is The Way.

“Mando, how in the hell did you not tell me that today is a holiday?” You say as he approaches the table.

Din grabs the kid from you, holding him to his chest as he shrugs. “I didn’t think about it until this morning.”

Looking up at him, your eyes are hopeful. “Well what’s the plan for today? I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”

“The spot we’ve been using for training would be great for a secluded view of the lights,” Cara interjects, smirking at you for reasons unbeknownst to Din.

You grin at Cara then up at Din, “Well what if we poke around the festival for a little bit and then go out there to watch it? I think my body could use a rest day anyway.”

“That would be agreeable,” Din’s lips are tugging up into a grin of his own beneath the beskar. If he can, he just wants to make the two of you happy for this one day. He looks down at his foundling, “What do you think about it, pal?”

The kid makes a noise of agreement, smiling, and Din feels himself becoming misty eyed.

“I guess it’s settled then,” you agree, standing to join him.

The three of you spend the better part of the day roaming through the festivities, watching performers do odd tricks, eating street food that Din saves for when he’ll have a private moment to eat again. Mostly the group just enjoys the celebration of life, soaking up the energy that this gives off. There are small sections scattered throughout the city devoted to mourning the dead, and Din thinks of his fallen comrades as the group moves past them. He’s sure you’re thinking of your grandfather, watching your facial expressions change as you stop to admire one of the shrines.

At one point a woman drapes a pinkish-purple fabric over your head and says something to you in her native tongue before bowing her own head at you and walking off.

“What was that?” You ask up to Din once out of earshot, and he gestures around.

“The colors represent the colors of the atmospheric anomaly. It is seen as good luck to wear the colors on this day, that it will bring prosperity to your life. Just a superstition among the locals. She wished you a long and happy life, and for your fallen loved ones to have found peace in the afterlife.” Din smiles down at you, hidden as always.

“It’s amazing how many languages you can speak,” you remark, eyeing him with admiration.

“We should continue your education in Mando’a,” he replies.

With a little wink, you bump your hip into his slightly. “I would love that, ner burc’ya.”

“Cyar’ika,” Din replies lowly enough for only you to hear, wishing for privacy so that he would feel comfortable enough to reach out and touch you. Nights have been full of nothing but touching while on Nevarro, and Din finds himself slowly becoming addicted to it.

Random children stop to greet you here and there. Some remark that they miss your presence at the school or ask about Jupiter, while others simply grace you a quick hug before running off to re-join their families. Din can tell that this touches you, and you look so incredibly soft to him in those moments.

When a stand selling plush toy versions of lava meerkats catches the kid’s eye, the pram floats over to the stand and the kid begins reaching for one with grabby little hands. One begins to lift up and float towards him, and Din has to quickly snatch it out of the air.

Grinning up at Din, you gesture towards the child with a loving expression. “Aw, look at that he wants a toy!” Din just stares at you so you begin to pout, “Oh come on don’t be a party pooper. Let’s get it for him.”

“It’s overpriced.”

“So is everything here today.”

Seeing how much the child wants it, and thinking back to his thoughts earlier of wanting to make the both of you happy today, Din conforms with a sigh. He pays for the toy and hands it over to the child, who hugs it so happily that Din suddenly doesn’t care about how much it had cost.

After listening to Greef Karga’s speech about the future of Nevarro, you look to Din and motion with your head that you’d like to get out of the crowd. He feels similarly, and so the three of you exit the city to make your way out to the rocky fields where you’ve been spent the last several days.

“Sunset will be soon, so I figured it was a good time to get out of there. Plus it was getting a little too crowded,” you say once the party arrives, sitting your things down on a rock.

“Agreed,” Din says, setting the child down to play with his new lava meerkat. He immediately starts chasing after some sort of insect with it so Din calls after him, “Stay close, kid.”

The two of you take a seat beside one another and you pull out the personal device from your bag, setting it up to charge in what’s left of the sunlight. Din looks down at it, suddenly feeling like he wants to understand more about the culture you were raised in.

“Why do humans put so much emphasis on music where you’re from?” He asks, watching you for a reaction.

You look at him and smile, “Music is one of the many ways us Earthlings express ourselves artistically. It can move people on an emotional level. You can have a terrible day, and then dancing and singing along to your favorite song can make you forget why your day was bad at all. As for the people who make the music, it can be a form of dealing with something that’s going on in their lives. One person can write songs about falling in love, another can write about something sad that happened to them. It’s all about how you feel in the moment. Even music without words can spark an emotional reaction, which is why we use music to amplify the emotional moments in films. On a personal level, music has helped me get through tough times and other times its simply been a source of joy.”

“Mm,” Din responds, unsure of what else to say.

“What about your culture? Are there Mandalorian songs?”

“Yes, mostly war songs about the glory of our ancestors in battle.”

You grin, laying back to look up at the sky with your hands behind your head. “I’d be interested to hear what that sounds like.”

Din sits there for a moment, keeping an eye on the kid while he mulls over the impulse he’s feeling. Maker its been so long since he’d done this, but you’ve become the person he trusts most and he knows that you would treat his decision with respect.

And so he begins to sing. At first the sound of it is so foreign to him that he’s not sure if he’s got the pitch right, but the ancient words flow out him as he chants the old war song. This one was always his favorite as a foundling, and getting to share it with you strikes a chord within his heart.

You’re sitting up again, staring at him in awe when he finishes. He’s avoided looking at you through all of it, but now he’s meeting your gaze through the beskar with a new sense of confidence after seeing your reaction.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” a little smile plays at your lips as you shove at his shoulder with one hand.

“It’s nothing special,” Din counters.

You roll your eyes, “Yes, it is. You just shared a Mandalorian war song with me, and you sang it beautifully. That’s special, Din.”

The kid waddles over to the two of you with his new toy, climbing up into Din’s lap as he stares at him with an equally awestruck expression.

“See? He agrees,” you laugh a little.

“Play me one of your favorite songs,” Din lightly commands, tone soft.

“Hmm,” you seem to ponder something for a moment, before grabbing the iPad and clicking around on it. “Aha, this is a good one. You know that shirt with the guy on it that I love so much?” Din nods, so you continue, “He’s a musician named David Bowie, and he was huge deal on Earth. This song is one of my favorites because it’s space themed. It’s called ‘Moonage Daydream.’”

Din leans his head back, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he listens to the odd music. It’s pleasant, even though the lyrics make absolutely no sense to him. You begin to hum along to it at one point and eventually you’re singing along to the words. He feels the kid leave his lap at one point, prying an eye open to see you dancing around with the foundling in your arms.

The song changes over, and Din stands up to join you. “I’ve heard this one before, you play it quite a bit on the ship.”

You look bashful for half a second, sitting the kid back down on the ground. He continues dancing with his meerkat. “Yeah this one felt relevant when I first got stuck here. It’s called ‘Message in a Bottle’ by a group called The Police. The lyrics are heavily metaphorical, but its about being stranded on an island after a shipwreck and feeling incredibly alone.”

“I can see how that would have resonated with you,” Din remarks, head tilting down.

“Yeah, but now it feels like someone found my bottle and I’m not alone anymore.” You look up at him through thick lashes, and Din wishes for a split second that he could kiss you the real way.

Instead, he touches his forehead to yours to kiss you in the Mandalorian way. “Let the music play for a while.”

As the three of you wait for the sun to finish setting, something that is rapidly approaching, your Earth music cycles through a few more songs. Each one is vastly different from the next, and its a marvel to Din Djarin that a simple planet creates so much variety.

Then, just as the light show is about to begin, a song with a slower rhythm and lyrics that are clearly meant to be romantic starts playing. Without a second thought, Din grabs your arm and pulls you to him. He starts to gently sway his hips back and forth, guiding you to do the same in tandem with his movements as he dances with you.

In the pram floating next to you both, the child is already looking up at the sky with a mesmerized expression. You’re still staring at Din, so he puts a hand to your chin to gently point your face upwards.

“Watch the sky, Cyar’ika.”

Din’s seen the pink and purple swirls of light in Nevarro’s atmosphere many times, so his own eyes do not leave yours as he watches the spectacle in the reflection there. Your face lights up, both literally with pink hues, and figuratively as your mouth falls open into a wide smile. Your eyes shine, and Din never stops gently dancing with you.

“Mesh’la,” you breathe, never taking your eyes off of the natural display of beauty above your head.

*****

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autumnwoodsdreamer · 5 months ago

Text

Shadows Dancing on the Walls

Chapter Six: The Clan

Summary: Signets, surprises, and some unexpected but not unwelcome guests…

Rating: General

Words: 5953

(Read on Ao3 or under the cut)

Take this cold heart till it beats again

And I will love you like a howling wind

. . . . .

The first time he watched a goran at work, Din was just a young foundling.

His body was small and soft and had never worn a scrap of armour. He stood there, cold little fingers clutching his buir’s gloved hand, eyes wide and captivated by the armourer looming before them: a fearsome, faceless being wielding strange tools, taming an even stranger fire, the smell and colour so foreign to him.

Din would never forget that first time. He would never forget the way his heart caught a fright at every pound of the hammer on the malleable metal, the way the smell and the heat overwhelmed him, wrenching him back to his whole world under siege, to blasterfire and bomb blasts and cellar doors and his parents’ unheard farewells.

He was terrified.

Terrified and yet awestruck.

He had yet to learn and grasp the rich meaning and heritage indelibly intertwined with beskar—he still had much to learn about these people who had saved him—but even so, even without a formal lesson on the matter, right there and then, he perceived its value and he glimpsed something in that moment which would go on to shape him into the man he would one day become.

He was just like beskar.

He could be reforged, he could be reshaped; the things that hurt him could make him stronger until nothing could hurt him ever again.

He used every subsequent occasion spent in a Mandalorian armourer’s forge to recall his loss, to let it be his furnace, let it break him, purify him, and then reform him.

The last time he found himself by the forge on Nevarro was the first time he broke the self-imposed ritual.

He could blame it on the blood-loss, the brain damage, the fatigue, the fact that they were running for their lives from Gideon’s troops, and those factors rightly deserved some credit, but, in moments of more candid reflection, he wondered if it traced back to something else entirely.

It was the first time he was there, not to transfer earnings or learn of what the tribe needed, not to have parts of his armour or gear repaired or remade, but to ask for help, for protection, for guidance. It was the first time since his adoption that he sought such things, and it was the first time since then that he received a piece of beskar not designed to shield him.

Just minutes earlier, he gave up his kyr’bes and shared his name, meaning them to be a kind of seal, a kind of guarantee for whatever Mandalorians Cara should find, a way to tell them: “These people are good; please protect them for me, for I no longer can.”

But the impending hadn’t come, he had survived, he was able to rejoin them and guide them to the decimated confines of the covert and it was there they found the Nevarran Armourer, and it was from that pile of empty armour that his signet and his clan was forged.

In the moment the Armourer welded the mudhorn skull to his pauldron, he thought only of the child, of their journey, of his mistakes, of his inadequacy, of the new fight he had taken upon himself: the fight for someone else to have a better life.

Now, many months and discoveries later, Din stood at a forge again, crafting a brand new signet. And he was not merely watching the crafting from a respectable distance; no, this time, he was right there helping.

Sabine had a forge set up in the base of the old LothNet Tower. It wasn’t as big as the forges in the various coverts Din had been attached to over the years but it didn’t need to be—she only ever used it to reshape her own armour. It was here she had added the jaig eyes to Din’s helmet and made a mythosaur pendant as well as a vambrace for Ragnar, crafting them from a plate of beskar Paz volunteered (one of Lindy’s cuisses he had been carrying as an arm guard, as it turned out).

It was strange, working in a forge above ground. Stranger still was the fact that this was a Mandalorian forge on his homeworld.

It seemed discordant, paradoxical, and yet poignant at the same time, like his story had splintered apart and had finally come back together, a place found for all the odd pieces he had accumulated over the years, the broken shards fitting together in bizarre, beautiful harmony like a stained glass mosaic.

As Sabine instructed him on how to temper the violet flame, he thought of his family, his entire perspective permanently altered by the things learned and the memories rekindled. He could no longer recall his parents in those last moments they were together without thinking about the fact they didn’t die there; they survived and grieved him, they left the ruins of their home and tried to build a new life, pouring their love and care on the second son they were blessed with… and it tore his heart open to think that they didn’t get any more time with Ezra than they got with him before the Empire came and ripped them apart.

He sewed Sabine’s family into his thoughts as well, mourning them silently alongside her as she brought out her mother’s helmet. They weren’t going to melt the entire helmet; just the crests would provide enough for what they needed.

After all he had learned, he marvelled at her resolve to keep the peace she had made with her family in their last meeting—fragile and limited though it was—to cherish their memory and to choose to forget their slights and scorn and rejection.

He took pains to let no word of it pass his lips but, privately, he found it difficult to forgive them for abandoning her as a child, for choosing Imperial favour over their own daughter, for leaving her to the wolves. Besides his love and regard for her, their actions violated the Mandalorian creed they supposedly upheld; for what they did, they had no more right to call themselves True Mandalorians than Death Watch.

But, even as those feelings churned like lava within his veins, he comprehended the uncomfortable, complicated truth of the matter.

She loved them.

And they had loved her.

Maybe not as fiercely and completely as she loved them but, in their own way and as much as they could, they did love her. And in their final moments together, they had sought, not to distance, not to prove who was right and who was wrong, not to settle scores, but to make amends.

Her mother gave her the clan crest, her father said he was proud of her: that was their way of conveying their blessing. And Sabine had accepted it, had perceived the weight of it, and so Din would, too.

Quietly, solemnly, they worked together.

They wore their armour in place of welder guards and aprons, keeping their expressions hidden. Even without seeing her face, Din knew this was not easy for her.

He had offered parts of his own armour for this, even considered melting a portion of the beskar spear, but Sabine had insisted on using her mother’s helmet: she had been struggling to find a purpose for it, and now she had one presented to her on a proverbial platter.

Grogu sat in his pram, hovering at a spot out of the way but close enough that he could observe the process. He kept his hands clasped before him, his legs folded, ears low and level, serene patience written in every inch of his posture, his eyes shining softly with a sharp discernment of the gravity of this occasion.

On a stone bench set against the wall, three pieces of armour lay in a neat line, arranged in order of size: biggest to smallest. Scrubbed of paint, they gleamed pure silver, the polished surfaces catching the lights and colours of the environment: the violet of the forge, the low flame of the surrounding lights, the gold of the noon sun.

They approached each piece in turn: his first, then hers, then Grogu’s, working in order of complexity. His was a simple adjustment, hers required a mold, and Grogu’s required first crafting then the addition of the signet.

The smell of the molten metal was familiar, nostalgic even; the pound of the hammer and the whistle of the welder was envigorating; and the hiss of heated beskar cooling rapidly in water was exciting.

In reality, the work didn’t take very long, but in the thick of it, it seemed all there was to life, and when it was done, it seemed to have lasted no longer than a dream.

Sabine did the last of the work while Din cleaned and replaced tools as requested. She sat back and assessed her craftsmanship, the whole world holding its breath in the beat before she nodded in satisfaction, sealing her work.

With his heart swelling, Din picked Grogu up out of his hover pram and carried him over to the work bench, a little claw latching automatically onto his thumb, squeezing in a kind of excited reassurance.

Sabine set down her tools and stood aside, shoulders setting back in something part pride, part anticipation.

“Well, there we have it,” she said, her modulated voice just a touch breathless, like she was trying to keep emotion under control. “What do you boys think?”

Din surveyed the collected armour plates: the proud, angular diamond of his right pauldron, the sleek, shaped oval of her left pauldron, and the minuscule wrist cuff for Grogu, each sporting an identical signet.

It was the mudhorn the Nevarran Armourer had designed for him but reimagined with the stylized quills of a feather fanning out from the inner curve of the skull’s swooping horn.

Grogu bounced in Din’s hold. Angling his helmet down, Din saw him stretching his arm out, eyes wide and asking.

Sabine laughed softly as she picked the little cuff up off the bench. Gently, she unclasped it and slipped it on over the boy’s sleeve, fastening it in place. She had spent an entire day just on the design of the clasping mechanism, making it so that he could continue wearing it even as he grew (which was anyone’s guess when and how much that would happen, but better to be prepared).

Grogu twisted his wrist, ears perking straight up as he admired his first piece of armour, a string of fascinated coos bubbling up. He raised his head and signed a thank you to Sabine, swivelling around in the arm holding him to show the cuff to Din.

“Looks good, buddy,” he said, his throat tight. He raised his free arm and nodded to it, anticipation glowing like the forge in his chest.

Grogu clanged his cuff against his father’s vambrace, eliciting a defined ting that bounced around the walls and escaped out the open door along with the child’s triumphant, ecstatic cry, vanishing into the afternoon air.

Din set the little one down on the bench, brushing a hand over his head before retrieving Sabine’s pauldron.

“May I?” he asked her, holding it like an ornament of glass.

She bowed her helmet and turned her unarmoured shoulder towards him.

He set the shaped plate down and it clicked and fastened into place. The bare beskar didn’t match the rest of her ensemble, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long: he suspected she would attack it with paint before the sun set this very day and he couldn’t wait to see what colour she would give it.

(He would match his to hers, no matter what she chose.)

Following suit, she placed his pauldron on his shoulder, her hand dropping down to squeeze his arm.

Taking in the sight of his little family, his mind travelled back to a young man standing before the tribe in his new helmet, vowing aloud that he would forge his own clan while resolving in his heart to remain unattached and unnamed.

That boy was naïve and cynical, so tired of loss and grief that he decided to get ahead of the pain by choosing a solitary existence. Even so, he carried a bleeding heart under that beskar cuirass and he couldn’t bring himself to turn it to stone, he just couldn’t do it, so he poured it into the tribe instead, perpetually seeking out ways to give them everything without getting involved.

He had not even the inkling of where and what he would be two decades later. He hadn’t the capacity to fathom how wide his heart would stretch, how much love he would discover it could hold. He could not conceive of the notion that that bleeding heart he once cursed would end up being the very thing that saved not only him but his whole family. If he could glimpse this life—the return to his homeworld, the friends and family he would collect, the new mission in life he would take on—he would think it all a wild fantasy.

And maybe it was that.

But he certainly was grateful for every moment he got of it.

Bringing his hand up, he traced the gleaming signet on Sabine’s pauldron, gloved fingers following the delicate, raised curves. She could have just painted the signet but she had opted, of her own accord, to craft it instead, a way to seal its permanence.

No fire, no blade, no blast could taint, erase, or purge it.

Forevermore, the Djarins and the Wrens would be remembered as one clan, forged by a foundling, a countess, and a Jedi.

She reached up, slowly, predictably. When her hands settled on either side of his helmet, when her thumbs caught and released the latches, he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. He closed his eyes and leaned his head forward, contentment and belonging warm in his chest, no trace of worry or trepidation even crossing his mind as she slid his helmet off and set it down on the bench.

He took her helmet off in turn, placed it beside his, and let their foreheads meet, soft and unobstructed.

He felt her breathe out a light laugh.

“What?” he asked, softly.

She tilted her head, looking at him like he was a marvellous, strange thing that had just wandered in through a door she hadn’t meant to leave open. “I’m thinking… I’m glad you stayed,” she answered, eventually, words falling out like a simple statement of the obvious and yet like a confession all at once. “That first time we met; you could have left and we’d probably be on opposite sides of the galaxy right now, still strangers.”

A part of a frown crossed his face. “It’s… not because I stayed so much as it was you coming after me, even after I was…”

“Rude?” she supplied with a sliver of a smirk.

He huffed but smiled and ducked his head. “I was going to say ‘difficult.’”

“You weren’t difficult.” When her hand came and cupped his face, he lifted his gaze back to hers, found the mirth settling under a wave of sincerity.

It put his heart in a vice, her kindness.

He could never think back to their first meeting without intense remorse. He regretted the prejudice with which he had treated her, condemning her as a traitor, a dissident, blasphemous and unfaithful. He had had only one dealing with someone who called themselves Mandalorian but followed a different way and he let the sour experience paint her, filling in her story, her ways, her values before she even got the chance to speak.

Affronted though she rightly was, she still gave him a chance, still showed him respect and hospitality.

Truly, the strongest, kindest Wren had survived.

“I’m glad you stayed, too,” he told her, caressing the side of her face with the same delicacy he had admired the new signet adorning her pauldron. He traced the little lightning scar on her cheek and chuckled, a soft, indulgent sound that left a broad smile in its wake. “I’ve grown rather fond of your face,” he admitted.

As dusk ebbed into a cool, lavender twilight, they rode home.

The house was still and quiet, no lights spilling from the windows.

Din glanced to Sabine with a questioning frown but she just shrugged and shook her head, as surprised as he was.

The others may have gone out but, typically, they left the lamp in the front room on when they did so.

Din looked to Grogu, reading his countenance to gauge the situation, trusting his instincts to detect anything untoward. There wasn’t a single crease of concern in the little one’s expression, but his ears stood at attention, betraying the presence of others.

Din slid his helmet back on and switched the visor to X-ray and heat vision. A sweep of the house quickly found a collection of warm masses gathering in the yard.

They moved, not frantically, but busily. Turning up the audio sensors, he caught the trails of instructive whispers but no defined words crept through.

“They’re setting something up in the garden,” he relayed to Sabine.

“Take your helmet off,” she told him as she herself did so. “Pretend we don’t suspect anything.”

With a soft clip of a sigh, he conceded and removed his helmet. He motioned for Grogu’s pram to follow him a little closer as they entered the house.

They switched on only a few lights to help them navigate, making the effort not to go straight to the backyard but, rather, carving a beeline, like they didn’t know where everyone was.

They were hard to miss, though.

While they had been away at the forge, the others had worked quickly and efficiently to set up all the trappings of a decent festive occasion. The Azadis’ garden positively gleamed with string lights and paper lanterns casting a warm, bespeckled glow over the gathering of their kin, all dressed in their finest.

“Their kin” consisted of the Azadis, the Jarrus-Syndullas, Chopper, Ezra, Zeb, Kallus, Rex, Chi Drench and Sloan, a handful of neighbours who had become close friends over the course of the last few months (such as Barak the cook and his family), and—Din couldn’t believe his eyes at first—Boba, Fennec, Cara, and Mayfeld.

He froze on the threshold of the door leading to the back garden. He froze and stared at the familiar collection of faces framed by the night and the decorated garden, a sense of unreality like the moment one realizes they’re in a dreamscape overtaking him.

A round of cheerful applause burst—without any hearing aid, it was just a ball of static to Din.

His gaze wandered over the mixed company before snapping back to the ones most out of place.

Cara was most eye-catching in her white suit: clean white boots, smart white pants, and a tailored white jacket with padded shoulders and designs trailing along the sleeves. Vaguely, Din recognized the cut as something between Alderaanian formal wear and a New Republic officer’s uniform. Her hair was up, braided symmetrically and elaborately, with a white ribbon woven in along with her trademark teal cord.

Mayfeld was different, too. The past few months had been good to him. He had lost that lacklustre pallor he had soaked up from the scrapyard, his eyes weren’t flitting constantly, his muscles weren’t twitching with skittishness; he looked well, he looked at peace, he looked like something totally brand new wearing what Din knew to be Nevarran formalwear: tunic and loose pants overlaid with a sleeveless coat.

Fennec looked no different from the handful of times Din had seen her before (he had it on good authority that she looked the same today as she had thirty years ago when she started in the bounty hunter game). Though neither her hair nor her apparel had changed, there was something subtle in the bend of her reserved smile: something that was enjoying being here.

Boba’s armour hadn’t changed except for a few nicks and scratches in the paint. But his face was different. Din had to do a double take, sure for a moment that someone else had come along and taken up Fett’s armour (which was not an impossibility; according to Rex, there were hundreds of clones still roaming the galaxy). The scars and acid burns had healed significantly, leaving traces and stains, sure, but he looked so much younger, so much more vibrant than when Din first met him.

They came forward, led by Cara. She came and clapped a hand on his shoulder and that grounded him a bit—it forced him to accept she was real, if nothing else.

“But… how?” he felt himself ask, dumbly, looking around and still grappling with belief.

“Your brother called us,” she explained. “Told us to get our butts here for a party and, well, how can you refuse him?”

Din shifted his gaze past Cara and, sure enough, there was Ezra, grinning like an idiot and waving, his other arm occupied holding a cheerily babbling Depa who obliviously but happily joined in the waving.

“He extended a far more eloquent invitation than that, I promise you,” Boba chimed in as he came and clasped Din’s forearm, their vambraces meeting with a hearty clang he felt through his skin.

Just having them here at a time they weren’t desperately needed sparked some emotion Din couldn’t quite explain or name, but it unfurled in his veins, warm as medicine. “You all came,” he said, incredulously.

“We did indeed!”

The deep, booming voice filled the garden and people moved aside, parting like stage curtains. Din traced its source easily, his whole world falling silent in the moment his sights landed on the unhindered, unabashed grin of one Greef Karga.

“Mando!” he bellowed warmly, the way he had a hundred times before (and, for a slice of a moment, Din wondered if the older man’s fondness for him had sprung up much earlier than he had tracked). Opening his arms wide and welcoming, he drew closer, his floor-length coat tailoring the impression of intangible drifting.

It was utterly surreal, having him here: Greef was a solid fixture in his old life; for the five years he had operated from the Nevarro chapter, Din saw Greef more often than he did the covert.

His ties to the Guild had been dissolved and his position as magistrate reinstated, and he had flung himself into the transition from the leader of a hive of mercenaries to a just ruler, his warmth and joviality pouring through, genuine and unlimited, no longer a part of an act, a mere device to disarm.

And he had, to Din, shifted from a necessary acquaintance to a true friend.

With his grin so wide, his eyes had all but disappeared, the only trace of them left being two bright glints. He tipped his head to the side as he looked Din up and down, a twitch in his cheeks like he was trying not to cry.

“So good to see you, my boy,” he said. His hand hovered, uncharacteristically hesitant to come forward for the greeting they had shared so many times before.

Din didn’t know why but the only thing that seemed right to do right then was to embrace his old friend.

He wasn’t good at it. He had found himself drawn into so many arms these past few months that he fancied he had picked up some of the finer points, but he did it all wrong now: he pinned one of Greef’s arms to his side and he came in too suddenly and he held on too tight and for too long. But Greef didn’t recoil, didn’t try to push him away; his breath rushed out in surprise and he rocked a step back but there wasn’t a moment lost before he hugged him right back, his free arm wrapping around his armoured back, giving him a soft, sturdy shake.

When Din pulled away, he kept their arms linked, some part of him afraid to let go.

“Greef? I want you to meet Sabine,” he said, turning to nod to her. “My wife,” he added. He was sure the fact was well-known by now, a full week after its establishment, but he would never tire from saying it, just as he never tired from announcing Grogu as his son.

“A pleasure,” Greef said, all charm as he clasped Sabine’s armoured forearm, laying his other hand atop hers. “I finally get to meet the one who tamed our lone Mando.”

She slid a secret glance to Din, a slice of a knowing smile and a spring of her brow that played like a nudge in the ribs.

Grogu must’ve chirped or made some noise then as Greef’s attention switched to him. The kid was bouncing in his pram, holding his armoured wrist out and pointing to Din and Sabine, to their matching pauldrons, before bringing his hand back to sign in a flurry.

Greef likely didn’t understand the signs, but he understood the components and the enthusiasm. He looked like he chuckled as he lifted the little one out the pram and held him up before tucking him into the crook of his arm, responding to the boy’s babbling and gushing over the beskar cuff.

Winter was close.

The night air travelled slow and light, laced with a chill that sharpened and dulled capriciously.

But warmth saturated the garden, emanating from the convocation of hearts and the crackling fire tamed and ever attended in a stone pit in the middle of the yard.

There was no music but between the hum of conversation and the cracks of laughter, it was not missed.

The occasion arose to commemorate Din and Sabine’s marriage, but, really, it was a chance to pause, to reflect and reinforce bonds forged in battle, to come together and settle on common ground.

They drew closer to the fire, closer to one another as the evening progressed. When the fire reached that point where it glowed and pulsed rather than spat flames and sparks, voices and ambience mellowed to match.

The children abandoned their games and meandered towards their parents, instinctually seeking safe places to sleep. Barak held his son and one of his daughters while his wife held their other daughter; Jacen curled up next to Kanan, his bright green head heavy on his father’s chest while Hera cradled Depa.

Grogu had begun falling asleep in Din’s arms and he would’ve continued holding him all evening without a second thought just as he had countless times already, but Sabine came up to him with open hands and he transferred the little one to her hold, taking care not to disrupt the beginning sleep.

The child’s eyes flickered open just long enough to check whose arms he was moving to. He saw her and let his eyes slip closed again as he snuggled into her hold, little chest rising and collapsing with a comfortable, contented sigh.

“Nuhoyir, ner ad’ika,” she murumured, bringing him up close where she could press a kiss to his head before letting him burrow into her unarmoured side.

Sweeping his gaze over the gathering, Din took stock of all present, a part of him still struggling to believe this was real. He had seen things few individuals could fathom—everything from the inside of a Great Krayt Dragon to the heaven clouds of Wild Space—but it was this, this particular collection of souls that tested his belief.

There was one here who knew him from infancy, there were some who knew Mando far better than they knew Din, and there were ones here who had only known him as the unarmoured, soft-spoken neighbour who fixed everything from speeders to kettles. It was strange to have them all in one place, to watch them interact; though pulled here by their tie to him, they easily connected with the others despite their differences.

Rex and Boba were both clones but, apparently, they were different kinds or classes of clone. Besides that, something bitter lurked in their history, something that pushed them to avoid each other like opposing magnets until Chi pulled them into his ring. Whatever topic arose, it seemed to lay neutral ground for the men; what began as tolerance of one another soon caved into a tenuous acceptance.

Mayfeld made himself well-liked. His showmanship had not a stage but a fairground tonight with so many ears unacquainted with his anecdotes and jokes. He kept it tame, as Din was glad to hear (though his account of the prison break—the initial one involving Qin—was woefully embellished).

Cara was a little starstruck to meet the entire Ghost Crew, especially Kanan and Ezra who were something of a legend amongst the rebels of yesteryear.

As he looked around, Din noticed something was off, out of place.

He scanned the gathering with a sharper gaze, the discomforting sense that something was missing scratching at him until, like a bell toll, it became clear.

Ezra.

He wasn’t there.

When he realized, he felt both relief and worry. Relief because he had figured it out and he was no stranger to his brother’s random disappearing acts; worry because… well, it was his little brother.

Excusing himself with an apologetic tilt of the head, he slipped away from the gathering around the fire pit, the night’s chill latching onto him the instant he stepped out of the field of warmth.

He didn’t bother checking the house; Ezra never retreated there. He followed the garden path down to the gate and slipped out to the narrow lane slanting down to the shore, boots crunching on the sand-strewn stones.

Sure enough, Ezra was there: a solitary figure, standing with his arms folded, his bare feet planted in the lapping water, pant legs soaked dark up to his calves, his gaze distant and untethered.

“You alright?” Din asked, carefully, as he approached.

Ezra pulled a ghost of a smile and his gaze flicked down as if to check on the water. “I like your friends,” he remarked, utterly ignoring the question. “You attract the most bizarre creatures.”

Din chuckled and tipped his head, agreeing. “Family trait,” he tossed back.

He didn’t really consider them all that unusual—their occupations and life-stories were interesting and perhaps uncommon (after all, there was not one but two planetary rulers currently sipping spotchka and swapping battle stories around the fire), but Din didn’t see the titles. Maybe it was because he had learned long ago the meaninglessness of rank, having hunted everything from princes with less honour than petty thieves to vagabonds with the grace and manners of ancient lords; maybe it was because he knew them before their change in office, had seen them in adversity and had them stand both against and then beside him in battle, had seen their weakness, their fear, their honour and their mettle, and so could no longer see them as anything else but his equal.

Ezra snapped around, concern writ in his brow. “You don’t mind that I invited them, do you?”

Din shook his head. “No. No, I don’t mind. It’s… nice. Seeing them again. Thank you,” he added, just to be sure.

They lapsed into silence for a while, each looking out at the water, vast and as black as the space between stars, its life, its breathing betrayed by strokes of moonlight silver swaying and wavering.

A school of tiny fish came by, gathering around Ezra, their scales catching and throwing back glints that turned them into a handful of submerged diamonds. A seabird that should have been asleep hopped about on the sand, lingering near Ezra, canting its head this way and that as if checking the water, waiting to see if he might attract any bigger fish.

Eventually, Ezra took a slow, deep breath, purposely letting the motion move his shoulders and telegraph an end to the quiet.

“I was talking with Greef,” he began in an “oh, by the way” manner. “He told me it’s been a year almost to the day since you found Grogu.”

“Yeah. I know,” Din said, unsure what else to say. He hadn’t made any secret of the job that led him to Grogu, hadn’t sugarcoated any of the facts or twisted the narrative to justify his actions; Ezra knew all about it already.

Ezra let out a soft laugh, his head folding back to cast his gaze to the sky for a moment before sliding down to Din. “Can you recall where you predicted you would be today?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting in prompting.

“I didn’t… predict anything,” Din admitted, plainly. But, rather than drop the subject, he mulled over it. “I… suppose I thought I’d get the kid somewhere safe and then I’d just go back to what I was doing before. I didn’t—I didn’t really have ambitions.”

Ezra swayed closer to bump his arm. “Funny how that works out.”

“And you?” Din nudged, deciding it was only fair to drag him under the same spotlight. “A year ago—where did you predict you’d be today?”

“Well, prepare for a shock, brother, but, despite the discrepancy between our respective circumstances, my answer is the same as yours: I thought I’d be doing now exactly what I was doing back then.”

Din frowned, dissatisfied with the answer. “But I thought Kanan said Jedi could see the future.”

Ezra rolled his eyes, his expression more fond than exasperated. “We don’t ‘see the future.’ The future is unwritten, Dinar; you cannot read what’s unwritten. But when a certain chain of events are in motion, we can… glimpse the shape of the effects.” He cut out a rueful laugh. “Most of the time, it’s more a liability than an asset.”

“So you knew things were going to change,” Din pressed.

“I did,” Ezra confessed, “but I didn’t dwell on it enough to believe it.”

“Do you…?” Din began but stopped himself, letting the words fall away as the sense of stepping into dangerous territory crackled down his spine.

He would’ve left it at that, would’ve left it unsaid but something in the glint of Ezra’s eyes as he glanced sideways to him told him he had heard the question anyway, and he had an answer. Din wrestled for a moment between the desire to know and the desire to preserve his ignorance, the moral of childhood fables blaring in his mind, warning him that knowing can change things, knowing can be a hazard.

“Do you know what’s going to happen from here?” he went ahead and asked anyway.

“Not to the letter,” Ezra answered, a crafted casualness covering his care.

“But a chain of events are in motion.”

“Events are always in motion.”

“Don’t be vague.”

“You were vague first.”

Din sighed. “Alright, I get it. Can you tell me just one thing?”

Ezra raised an eyebrow but neither objected nor promised.

“Will you be there? When… whatever happens happens, will you be with us?”

“Of course,” Ezra answered without hesitation, an incredulous note in his voice like he couldn’t believe his brother would ever assume the contrary.

“Good.” Din nodded and took a breath, filling his lungs with cold sea-air laced with the smell of the fire back in the garden. “Then I won’t worry.”

. . . . .

Start this fire

Watch the embers fall

We’re just shadows dancing on the wall

Here we are, at the end of another instalment. I’ve really enjoyed sharing a softer story, dialling the pace down and just letting the characters rest and mend after all the action.

Now that we’ve had a good rest, though, I’m hoping in the next part to get back into the thick of adventure. There’s some storylines I have been dying to explore as well as characters I have been wanting to write since I started this series. I can’t wait to get started!

As ever, a heartfelt thank you for reading through! I appreciate all your kudos, comments, bookmarks, reblogs, likes, and contributions to the hit count. I hope you all have enjoyed the story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing and sharing it with you.

Sincerely,

Autumn 🍁

. . . . .

Mando’a

Goran — armourer / blacksmith / metalworker

Kyr’bes — skull, usually mythosaur skull

“Nuhoyir, ner ad’ika” — “sleep, my child”

Author’s Notes

“I’ve grown rather fond of your face” is a quote from My Fair Lady. My dad actually quoted it in the letter he wrote to my mom after asking her to marry him.

. . . . .

I’ve made the executive decision to label the team-up of Din, Sabine, Chopper, Cara, Mayfeld, Boba and Fennec “the rescue crew”… that is their name from henceforth.

(An alternative may be “the Grogu defence squad” but, really, that includes anyone with a shred of goodness who meets the tyke)

🎶 chapter playlist 🎶

Fine Way — Watershed

Caught in the Storm — The Goo Goo Dolls

Something We Just Know — Twin Forks

I Want to Spend It With You — The Satelite Station

Life With You — George Donaldson

Life in Color — OneRepublic

Someone I Can Love — John Dang

After All — Michael Bublé

The Best is Yet to Come — Tim Halperin

Coming Your Way — Drew McAlister

I Run to You — Lady A

I Hold On — Dierks Bentley

True Believers — Darius Rucker

For the Dancing and the Dreaming — The Hound + The Fox

Crowded Table — Joshua Radin

The Night Loves Us — Alan Doyle

Friends — Matchbox Twenty

Little Wonders — Rob Thomas

Legends — Kelsea Ballerini

. . . . .

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#din djarin #grogu djarin #sabine wren #star wars rebels #the mandalorian #my writing #lift a sail #shadows dancing on the walls

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