#mando x fem oc

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Twenty-six point Five.

pairing: din djarin x plus-size fem!O/C           

word count: 8.1K        

chapter summary: Din and Marathel reminisce, Grogu tries to play matchmaker again, Din removes his helmet several times, and the Crest gets back to Unmanarall. 

warnings:  angst, heartbreak, mention of mental breakdowns, mental illness, and vomit, English and Mando’a cursing        

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***         

You Were Marked: Masterlist    

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Marathel opened her eyes and briefly panicked; she could see nothing at all.  There was also what felt like a knee pressed against her backside and a hand draped over her waist.  Then she remembered that Din had turned off all the lights on the ship, and he was asleep beside her. Marathel sighed.  It seemed sucking him off put him into a deep enough sleep that she should be able to get up without disturbing him.  She carefully scooted away and then stood up.  She did not hear any movement from Din.  I hope he stays asleep; I desperately need the vac tube.   

Marathel gathered her blanket and slid her feet along the floor, reaching out in the darkness.  Her fingertips touched the wall where she believed the door for his quarters was. She went down that wall and discovered the cockpit ladder and the alcove with the vac tube. Marathel tucked the blanket under her armpits, letting it drape down her front to the floor as she pulled down her pants and backed up into the vac tube.  The lack of a seat made sitting uncomfortable, so she tried to be as quick as possible.  As she searched in the darkness for the cleaning paper storage, she heard a door slide open and she held her breath. 

The next thing she knew, she could see Grogu standing in front of her, and hovering above his little hand was a small glowing ball of light, dim as one of her glow-worm lanterns but enough to see by. “Grogu,” she whispered.  “Thank you for the light, but … I need privacy right now.  Please turn around.”  Grogu nodded and turned around, but still held up the light ball for her.  She quickly finished but decided against toggling the vac tube —she didn’t want to wake Din with its loud whooshing noise. 

Marathel stepped out from the little alcove and realized that with Grogu’s little light, she could now see Din, lying on his side, facing away from her.  She could see the back of his head, his wavy hair, a large half-healed wound, and one ear.  Gasping, she turned away and closed her eyes.  As much as she wanted to see his face, peeking at him while he slept was not how she wanted that to happen.  Marathel stole a look at Grogu, who was looking back at her again.  He pointed at Din.  “No, love, I won’t look,” she whispered.  Grogu grunted and looked downcast.  Marathel turned her back to Din and she moved down the opposite wall to the basin so she could quickly wash her hands.  She carefully moved back to her blankets and lay down as she had before, facing the swinging empty boxes.  Grogu stood in front of her, pouted and pointed at Din again.  “No, Grogu, I won’t look at Patu.  That would be … cheating.”  Grogu looked so crestfallen that Marathel relented.  “But … if you can put his helmet back on without waking Patu, then you can snuggle between us and we can … cwtch, like I promised before, when you had an upset tummy, remember?”  Cooing with delight, Grogu lifted his little hands and concentrated; Marathel heard a shuffling noise behind her.  Grogu clambered over her, and she carefully turned over to see Din as she knew him best. Why can’t the sight of his helmet, the sound of his voice be ENOUGH for me, she cried in her mind. 

But then, Marathel had to look down and away from Din; even with the helmet on, it was suddenly all too much for her.  I want to see him, yet I can barely look at him, I can’t stand his touch anymore.  Even so, I crave his arms around me, but if he does that, I think I may scream! Oh, she was so mixed up, and her mind hurt her so much!   She cautiously laid her hand against his chest, still without his cuirass, his pauldrons and cuisses off as well.   

Din sniffed sharply and grunted.   “Mesh’la?” 

“I’m here.  So is Grogu.”  My family. 

Still half-asleep, Din asked, “Why is my helmet back on?” 

“Grogu did that, so we can … cwtch without breaking your Creed.” 

Din looked up at the pale ball of light hovering over them. “Grogu is doing that, too, right? I’m not dreaming?” 

“You’re not dreaming.” 

“Good.”  Din stroked Grogu’s ear.  “Glad you could join us, kid.”  Looking up at Marathel’s face, he said, “Cyar’e … you didn’t sneak away for once.  You usually escape from me when we’re sleeping together.” 

Marathel swallowed.  “I … I promised Grogu that we could cwtch, all of us.  When he had the upset tummy, remember?”  She looked away.  “I promised him.” 

Din frowned, wondering why she seemed so … well, extra nervous.  Pensive.  “Cwtch. Does that mean … cuddle?” 

Marathel was surprised to hear such a childlike and soft word coming from this man of metal and weapons.  Searching for the words, she said, “It’s more … how you feel when you cuddle.  Safe, warm …” 

“Loved?” 

“If you like … yes.”  She sighed.  “It’s like rwy’n di’rugar.  Meant for only Diwhyns and children.” 

“I don’t mind.  I would love to be cwtched by you … If that’s how to say it in your Oldtalk.” 

Marathel half-shrugged. “Close enough.” 

Din caressed Marathel’s cheek, and he noticed her flinching slightly from his touch. “Close enough is only good for running beast shoes and hand grenades.  What’s the proper way to say it?” 

“To say, ‘I want to be … cwtched by you’ … um … Ga’yl fi cwmigduhwrtch gen’nyd chi.  We cwtch, we have cwmigduhwrtch before, we will be cwmeilgilwrtchydd later.” 

Din raised an eyebrow under his helmet.  Dank ferrik, that Oldtalk is one fucked-up language.  “Is koo-mee-ihl … forget it, I can’t possibly pronounce that …” Marathel smiled a little.  “… is it all right if we cwtch?” 

“I promised Grogu.” 

“That’s not what I asked you, Marathel.” She continued to look away from Din.  “Mesh’la … you don’t want me to touch you, do you?”  Her eyes filled with tears.  “I can understand why you wouldn’t want me to, truly, I do.  You’re forcing yourself to be near me, aren’t you?  You forced yourself to … put your mouth on me earlier. Why did you do that, Marathel?” 

Her tears spilled over, and Grogu crawled over to snuggle under her chin, trying to soothe her.  “It’s what you wanted.”  She dropped her chin to kiss Grogu’s head. “It’s all I know how to do.  It’s all I’m good for.” 

“No, cyar’e, you’re so much …” 

“I only gave you what you wanted. Were you not pleased?” 

“Ner kar’ta … you please the living shab out of me.  You are magnificent in your ability to please me.  But I didn’t want you to … I did, yes, but not just …” Din wanted so much to hold her hand, but he was afraid to upset her more, so he held Grogu’s hand instead. “This, right here, right now, is what I want. With you and Grogu, the three of us, together.   Cyar’e, you said the days we spent together in your little hut were the happiest in your life.  They were the happiest days in my life too, and right now, I will say anything, try anything, to make you change your mind.  We have so little time left.” 

Marathel’s face fell. “How long?” 

He looked at the tiny monitor on his vambrace, then she heard him swallow.  “Two, three hours.” 

Marathel closed her eyes in despair.  She hadn’t realized how much time had passed in the artificial environment of the ship. She looked up at the little ball of light that Grogu had conjured; it was growing smaller and dimmer as the little boy grew drowsy, curled up between them.  Marathel looked back down at Grogu, and she moved her hand on him slightly, just enough that her index finger lay over Din’s.  Even though he was wearing gloves, the pressure of her finger on his nearly made his heart explode, the simple touch giving him almost more pleasure than her mouth did on him a couple hours earlier.  Marathel asked, “How many days …?” 

“Twenty-six.” 

Marathel blinked in confusion.  “I beg your pardon?” 

“I met you twenty-six days ago.” 

“Twenty-six?  Is that all?  But it seems …” 

“… Like much longer, doesn’t it?”  Like forever, but in a good way that it makes me wonder what in blue fuck I was doing with my life before you threw a rock at my head, he thought.  She said nothing. Din continued, “You lost a few days in the middle, my wounded acorn.  But I can tell you what day any event happened since I met you.”  Marathel looked at him dubiously.  “Go ahead, ask me.” 

“What day did I throw eggs at you?” 

“Day four.” 

“What day did you puke up my clam stew?” 

“Day six.” 

Marathel smiled.  “Hmmm.  What day did I puke up the Mist?” 

“Day two.” She laughed.  “I remember things.  My father was an engineer; I think I inherited his brain.” 

“I’ll have to take your word for it; I don’t know what an engineer is.”  After taking a breath, she asked, “What day did you kiss me?” 

“I kissed the top of your head very early in the morning on day seven.” 

“That doesn’t count,” said Marathel, rolling her eyes. 

“Good to know,” said Din with a small chuckle. “I kissed you the first time on day ten, I think.  Possibly eleven. I had a concussion at the time.” 

“… the first time?” 

Din sighed.  “Your lungs were filling with fluid, and I was sure I was losing you. You were unconscious, and I’m sorry.  You were dying right in front of me. But Grogu made you breathe again.  I think he kept you alive, moved air in and out of your lungs, kept your heart beating, until we got you to Tatooine.” 

Marathel looked down to Grogu, who was nearly in a deep sleep, his ears twitching.  She ran her fingertip along the edge of his ear and the little boy sighed.  The little light ball was almost completely extinguished by now.  She looked back up into Din’s visor.  “Din, I wasn’t asking you how many days we’d known each other.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “What were you going to ask?” 

Marathel bit her lip nervously, her face flushing pink.  “Before I ask that … once this light goes out … would you … kiss me again?”  

“Are you sure?  You want me to …?” 

“We have so little time, as you say. And ... and your kiss was one of the sweetest things I’d ever felt.  I think I deserve that memory, at least.”  Din carefully reached up and touched her cheek; Marathel’s eyes fell closed with a sigh that was part whimper.  Din watched the tiny light bubble wink away, leaving them in darkness.  He quickly removed his helmet and touched his lips to hers; they couldn’t get too close with Grogu between them.  Din kept his lips closed, his teeth apart, his touch soft and unmoving, wanting to try to kiss her the way Cobb tried to teach him, but he was too nervous, afraid of scaring her.  

Marathel, meanwhile, didn’t know how to kiss a man, so she mimicked Din’s kiss and wondered if this method was what Cobb had taught him.  Marathel dared to touch his cheek again, as she had when he’d kissed her the first (second) time, and she felt him jump just a little at her touch.  She then ran her hand into his hair, soft, wavy, a bit sweaty (it must be so warm in that helmet), and she felt his quiet moan against her lips as much as she heard it emanate from his throat, just as Cobb had when she did a similar thing. Is it about me — or about the touch?  Could it be anyone touching him? 

Din’s lips left hers, and he leaned forward to touch her forehead with his.  “I don’t kiss very well,” he admitted. 

“I don’t know how to kiss at all.” 

“You did just fine, mesh’la,” he said, smiling. I only wish we could learn how together.   After a moment, Din said, “If I were wearing my helmet, this right here, our foreheads touching, this would be considered a kiss.” 

“Really?”  Marathel felt his slight nod against her forehead.  “You’ve been kissing me in the Mandalorian way this whole time, and you didn’t tell me?” 

“It’s called a keldabe kiss.” 

“You Mandalorians don’t let people get close to you at all, do you?”  Her hand remained in his hair, and her thumb stroked the upper edge of his ear. 

“No,” he said with a shudder, her gentle touch making all of his hair stand on end. 

“How lonely you must have …” Before Marathel could finish her sentence, Din kissed her again, harder this time, more like the time he’d kissed her before she went away to the Reconstructionists, and this time, it was Marathel who softly moaned, the tiny vibration making Din nearly lose control altogether.  Their lips broke apart, and Marathel asked breathlessly, “What day did you kiss me the second time?” 

“Day fifteen.  The same day you went to the market with Cobb.  The same day Grogu called you Mama the first time.” 

“Busy day,” remarked Marathel. 

“Very busy.  You got to pet a sheep.  You got your first pair of shoes.” 

“I puked blood on Cobb’s boots.” 

“Okay, I don’t need a recap of every vomiting incident,” grumbled Din as Marathel quietly giggled.  “I got good and drunk that day, too.” 

“Drunk?” 

“Like you get if you have too many dreamberries.” 

“Oh.  Deffdonyn.” 

“If you say so,” said Din with a chuckle. 

“Why in Frith did you do that?” 

“Well, I’d just kissed the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, then told her that I loved her.  My boy suddenly started calling her Mama and had a screaming meltdown because she had to leave for who knows how long to try to keep her from dying and I didn’t know if we’d ever see her again.  Cobb thought I’d had a tough day.” 

“Oh, you had a tough day.  Hmm.” Marathel continued to lightly drag her fingernails through the short hairs at Din’s temple, giving him goosebumps all over.  “So, it was all Cobb’s doing?  What did you men discuss?” 

“Oh, the usual.  Women and relative breast sizes and what a chickenshit tymffod I was for telling you I love you and then running away.”   

“Relative breast sizes?” asked Marathel, her tone slightly snippy. 

“Well, yes,” said Din with an embarrassed shrug. 

She sighed.  “You men.  Born with your hands on your penis and looking for a tit to suck.” 

Din laughed.  “My buir — my foster father, the Mandalorian who rescued me as a child — oh, he would have liked you so much.  He once told me that men spend nine months trying to get out of the womb and the rest of their lives trying to get right back in.” Marathel laughed as well, then they both went quiet for a long time.  “This is when we’re at our best, ma’mwsh ha’laa, just like this.  You make me laugh.  No one has made me laugh as much as you.  Before Grogu, before you, I was so alone … I had no one and nothing to live for.  Grogu has given me a purpose in my life that I didn’t know I needed.  Knowing you has given me a joy that I didn’t know I could have.” 

Din heard Marathel sob before she hissed, “Joy?  What joy can I give you?  I will bring you nothing but shame and regret!” 

“How could you possibly …” 

“Who I am!  What I’ve done!” cried Marathel. 

“You think you’re the only one with a horrible past?  What was done to you was not your choice.  But I have killed innocent people, not because they did me wrong, but for money. I have murdered …” Din’s voice gave out; he still could not admit his worst sins out loud.  “I have done the most terrible things, all of my own free will.” 

Marathel was baffled.  “But … I thought … Mandalorians were honorable people …” 

“Life can’t always be honorable, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, not if you’re trying to survive in this galaxy.” Din swallowed.  “Believe me, I’m not trying to excuse my past.  It’s a dark, dark time I’m trying to deal with.  What I do know is that since I’ve met you, I’ve finally been able to sleep at night …” Marathel scoffed. “… not just because of that, my mesh’la … but I think some of my best days in my adult life were spent sitting on your steps drinking tea and watching you and Grogu play that running game of yours. 

“You made us a family, ner kar’ta, you welcomed us into your home and gave us your love and became a mother to Grogu.” 

“There are others better suited to do that for you …” She began to push him away. 

“No, Marathel, you’re the one I want!” Beginning to panic, he gripped her face in both hands.  “Don’t fight me on this, not now, not when we have so little time.  Please.  If you’re going to leave me, let me have these last few hours with you close to me.” 

“Din, I …” 

“Please, ner kar’ta …” He kissed her brow.  “I know it’s hard for you, having my hands on you like this … How could it not, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, with what was done to you?  And you think you must do this, that you must obey.”  He kissed her lips again.  “And I’m sorry I keep touching you, keep holding you so close, but I … don’t know what else to do!   If only you’d tell me that I’m not leaving you behind on that planet you came from!” 

“But, Din, I …” 

“Please, cyar’e …” 

“No, Din, just … hush, please, just for a moment!  In the name of Frith!”  Din went quiet and pulled his face back, letting go of her cheeks, anxious, dreading her continued rejection.  “Din, what I originally wanted to ask was, how many days has it been since I left the Reconstructionists and returned to Tatooine?” 

“How many … five, six days.  Why?” 

“I need to repeat the treatment, to make me not bleed?  I have a set of injections.  But … I need help.” 

“Of course, mesh’la.  I’ll … please, though …” 

“What?”  Din didn’t answer; Marathel only felt his warm breath on her face.  “Frith save us,” she muttered as she leaned forward and kissed him, and Din felt her full lips suck briefly on his lower lip, a motion that both thrilled Din and scared the shab out of him, for he was uncertain if he should do it back.  “Din, please. Put your helmet on, turn on a light.”  Din muttered apologies as he replaced his helmet and turned the overhead lights on low.  So easily distracted … that can’t be good for a Mandalorian, she thought wearily as she pulled out her bag from under the hanging carbonite shells.  She found one set of the injections and lay back down on her side, facing Din.  She held up the syringes.  “Red cap first, then we wait a little while, then the purple cap, then the black cap.” 

“Where am I injecting these?” 

Marathel patted the side of her neck, saying, “Here.”   

Din carefully cleaned the side of Marathel’s neck with the swab she gave him and uncapped the first hypo.  He placed it on her skin, asking, “Will it hurt?” 

“Not so much … it’s just strange.” 

Din triggered the hypo, which gave the injection with a small pft of air.  “All right?” 

Marathel felt the instant cold and grimaced.  “Hold my hand. Please.”  He did, giving her hand a squeeze.  Marathel closed her eyes and said, “Oh, it’s starting already.” 

“What is?” 

“It’s like spiky pebbles are rolling about inside my arms.” 

“That sounds horrible.” 

Marathel smiled.  “Cobb said the exact same thing.” 

“Did he, now?” 

“Yes.”  Marathel opened her eyes.  “He also said that you were thinking of me.” 

“I was.  Every moment, practically, ner kart’a.”  The spiky-pebble feeling grew worse, and she began breathing fast.  “What is it?” 

“It’s like spines now, long spines, trying to spear through my flesh,” whimpered Marathel.  

Din held her hands and stroked her knuckles with his thumbs.  “I have you, mesh’la.  You’re safe.” 

“Oh, it feels awful, so much worse than the other times … it feels horrible …” Weeping now, Marathel pulled her hands away from Din and covered her face.  “Why did I ever tell you what was done to me?  Why did I ever ask you to stay with me? Why didn’t you just leave?  Why did I have to find out what I am?!”   She sobbed for a while into her hands, then sniffled, and said, “Can you … do the second injection now?”  Wishing he could comfort her more, Din applied the purple-capped hypo, then found a cloth in his pocket and dried the tears from her face. 

“Oh, I forgot how this one burns,” muttered Marathel, gritting her teeth, doing her best to ride out the burning sensation as it coursed through her.  After some time, her breathing slowed, and her eyelids lifted to gaze into Din’s visor as she searched for his brown eyes in the dark expanse.  Marathel lifted one of her hands and placed it on Din’s helmet where his cheek would be.  “Din? Cwryiad? I’m already getting so sleepy.” 

“You’re going to sleep?” No, please, we have so little time. 

“I’m sorry … the treatment … makes me sleep … Din, I’m so scared, scared about going back.” 

“Then why go back, mesh’la?” 

Marathel’s eyelids were heavy, and she fought to keep talking.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry that I lied to you about … what would happen to me in the Hold.  I’m sorry for not telling you about the Dahls, and my connection with them.  I always felt so safe with you those nights you were there with me.  Even after …” Marathel’s hand slid from Din’s helmet to his neck, close to his jaw.  Her thumb reached under the edge of his helmet, brushing against his sparse whiskers there.  I deserve to have that much of him. A few kisses and a couple of touches. “Oh, it’s becoming so hard to talk.  I’m sure I’m no longer making any sense,” she mumbled.  “You think I’m going back to Unmanarall  to punish myself … ease my guilt over who I am. But I don’t know why anymore … I only know that I must go and there is no point in objecting … it doesn’t matter, because I must go back.  And you must let me go.” 

“No …” Din moaned.   

Their words tumbled over each other's, Marathel’s in her exhaustion, Din’s in his despair. 

“You must …” 

“I’ll stay there with you, Marathel …” 

“No, Din, you must redeem yourself … Living Waters …” 

“Then I’ll come back …” 

“No, cwryiad, go live your life with Grogu …” 

“Not without you!” 

“This is the way,” mumbled Marathel.   

“This is the way,” Din responded automatically.  “Marathel, I love you.” 

Marathel’s eyes closed, her brow furrowed with despair.  “I know.”  She took a deep breath, opened her eyes again.  “Promise me …” Marathel groaned , forcing herself to remain awake with all the energy she could muster.  She pulled his face close to hers, her hands up under the edge of his helmet, holding his jaw firmly and staring into the darkness of his visor.  “Promise me.  Do not take vengeance on the Bishop, or anyone in the Hold.  They are not worth your anger.  And I’m not worth your pity.  Promise me this… and I promise you… I won’t kill myself.  I will live out the rest of my days alone with you and Grogu in my heart.” Marathel wished she could see his eyes.  She gave Din a little shake. “Promise me!” 

“I promise you, ner kart’a.  This I vow.” He turned his head to kiss the heel of her thumb.   

Apparently satisfied, Marathel said, “Last injection … then you can hold me while I sleep … and I won’t fight you.  I won’t escape.  Maybe I’ll dream of how happy you made me.  Keep me safe … while you can …” Her words drifted off, and Marathel’s eyes closed as she went limp, already sleeping deeply. 

“Mesh’la?  Ma’mwsh ha’laa?”  Marathel did not respond.  He applied the last hypo, the black-capped one.  Damn it, Marathel, our last hours together, and you’re gonna be sleeping?  

Grogu began to stir; there was too much noise and angst going on for him to fully fall asleep, so he woke up and leaned against Din’s chest.   

Patu was very sad.  Mama was sad too, but now at least the dark inside of Mama’s head was quiet.  The dark inside Mama’s head kept trying to say bad things to Mama all the time. Bad things that made Mama hurt inside.    Grogu was glad that the dark inside Mama’s head was letting Mama sleep.  Grogu knew Patu was sad about Mama sleeping.  But Grogu also knew that Mama was still so hurt, and Mama needed to sleep.  Grogu was sad, too.   

Grogu sighed.  Din patted Grogu’s belly, swallowing, trying to keep his tears in check.  “Hey, little bub, us grown-ups are keeping you awake, huh?  I tried to keep Mama awake too, but it didn’t work.  Mama is too tired.  Is that something you can fix?”  Grogu whined softly.  “I guess not.  It wasn’t fair to ask you anyway; sorry, kid.”  Din sighed.  “I think, though, that if I’m going to spend the next couple hours holding on to both of you, I need to get comfortable.” 

Din pulled Marathel close to his side,  dragging her by her blanket pallet.  He carefully maneuvered her so her head was on his shoulder, and she was curled against his side with his arm wrapped around her.  Din patted his chest, inviting Grogu to lay on top of him, which Grogu did with a happy squeak.  There we go, he thought.  Got my woman, got my boy. 

Then Marathel did something he didn’t expect: she sighed in her sleep and snuggled tighter against him, throwing her arm across his waist, and sliding her leg over one of his.  Din held his breath for a moment, and then he reached to hold her hand that lay on top of him.  So wonderful, thought Din. Only one thing would make this perfect. 

As if Grogu had heard his thoughts, Din watched as Marathel’s hair lifted into the air like a veil caught in a gentle wind, fanning out over Din and Grogu in a blanket.  Din lifted his head to look at Grogu; the child’s large eyes gazed back up at him.  “You too, huh?” Din chuckled.  “I like how you think, kid; I think I’ll keep you.” Grogu burbled as he wrapped a lock of Marathel’s hair around his hand. 

Din basked in the perfection of this moment.  So this is what it means to cwtch. A soft, beautiful woman curled up beside him.  His child on his chest.  So little time.  So little time.  Din swallowed the tears in his throat and began talking out loud, the way he’d taken to when Grogu had appeared on the scene.  “Kid, I’ve been thinking … Maybe the only way for Mama to get better is for Mama to let herself get better.  And she can’t ... do that right now.  Maybe Mama can get better on the planet she came from. I guess I have to let her try.   

“You know, you’re doing a much better job of dealing with this than I am.  Maybe you can see how this might help her.  Maybe ... you understand, better than I can, that she needs to do this.  I just haven’t figured out yet ... how I’m going to handle her being gone.  What I’m going to do without her.  Will you be able to help me with that?”  Grogu reached up under Din’s helmet, pressing his tiny hand against Din’s chin.  Instantly, Din felt his anxiety go down by about a hundred points.  “Thanks, buddy.  You’re really good at that. 

“Kid, have I ever told you about how Mandalorian people get married?  Married is when two people who really love each other decide that they’re going to live together all the time … just like we did with Marathel on her planet.  When a Mandalorian wants to marry another, they say together, ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.’  Of course, they wouldn’t say it in Basic, they’d say it in Mando’a, which ... goes like this ...” Din lifted his helmet, and looked down at the top of Marathel’s head. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” he recited against her hair, and then he kissed her softly.  “Mama would have to say it back for it to really count, though.  But for now, kid ... this counts to me.”   

Din lifted his head to speak to Grogu directly.   “Oh, um … Don’t tell Mama I did that.  I’ll let Mama know when she wakes up.” Maybe.  Maybe not.  Din replaced his helmet and lay back, waiting for the alarm that would come far too soon, the alarm that would tell him the Crest had arrived at Unmanarall. 

Din was unsure whether he slept or not as he counted down the remaining minutes in hyperspace.  Perhaps he did sleep.  He’d slept a lot on this trip, which was unusual for him.  He hadn’t been blowing smoke earlier:  since meeting Marathel, he’d been able to sleep.  He knew he was awake right now, though.  

Marathel hadn’t left his side.  She’d jerked a couple times, causing her knee to knock him in the crotch, but not hard enough to matter.  She must have dreaming at some point; she muttered something in her language, then squeezed him tight. Her hand laying on his ribs had twitched often, and several of her fingers seemed to have a permanent tremor.  She’d also passed gas once, a little bubble of a fart that made Din chuckle.  The intimacies of a relationship, he thought, then wondered if relationship was the right word.  He then decided that considering the sparring, vomiting, injuries, laughter, tears, and the … sexual activity that went between the two of them, relationship was the correct word indeed.  Dank ferrik, I even made her breakfast once.  He hadn’t ever made breakfast for X'ian, but then she preferred a good old-fashioned breakfast of caf and half a pack of smokes.  Thank Frith I never kissed her, it would have been like licking a fire pit. 

He thought back to the promise he’d made to Marathel.  He had put all his thoughts of revenge against the Hold on the back burner when he’d taken her broken body away from Unmanarall.  The idea had never fully left, especially with the information that the New Republic didn’t give a biased piss about the place.  He relished the idea of obliterating the Round Building and every male that drew breath on that planet, but he was only a two-credit mercenary, not a savior for a society of downtrodden women, and he couldn’t come up with a plan to help them beyond simply blowing away the Hold, the source of their pain, in a barrage of laser blasts. 

I can’t even rescue one woman from that place, how could I possibly help an entire Hold of them? 

He continued to stroke the back of her trembling hand with his gloved thumb.  He wondered how many times he’d begged her to not leave him, only to be rejected each time.  Then she would draw herself close to him, and in the next moment, pull herself away.  He supposed that a reasonable person would have given up by now.  Not that I’m a reasonable man.  But then, what reasonable man falls in love with a woman who has suffered this much damage? 

He had no answer for that one, just like he had no idea why he continued to follow her command to return her to her home planet, a command that she herself admitted had no reason.  A command about to come to fruition. 

Din gently shook her arm.  “Marathel?  You have to wake up now.”  Marathel groaned quietly and turned her face into his shoulder.  “Mesh’la.  It’s time.”   

Marathel raised her head, squinting, sand in the corners of her eyes.  “Din?  Are we there?” 

“Almost.” 

Marathel, still very groggy, dragged herself up to her elbow, rubbing her eyes with the side of her hand.  “I was dreaming,” she mumbled. 

“What about, mesh’la?”   

Before Marathel could answer, a loud alarm began blaring, which startled her fully awake, and she curled tighter against Din in fear.  “What is that?” 

Din sighed and sat up, holding a yawning Grogu against his chest, his other arm still around Marathel.  “We’re here.”  Marathel looked at him, dismayed by the quick passage of time, but she nodded, and rolled up to her knees, and then her feet.  She held out her hands for Grogu, and Din handed him to her.  She gave Grogu a squeeze, and then offered her shaking hand to Din.  He put his gloved hand in her splinted hand, and she gave a pull to help him up.  Once standing, Din immediately pulled them both into his arms, holding them tight enough to squeeze a sob out of Marathel.  “Cyar’e ... I can’t do it. I can’t let you go.” 

“You have to, Din.” 

“We had five days, five days, to figure it out between us, and we squandered the whole trip with petty fights ...” 

“There was no point, Din.” 

“You don’t even know why you’re making me take you back!” 

Marathel pushed back from Din, looking into his visor.  “You’re taking me back because you love me, and you will honor my request.” 

“I won’t do it.  I’m turning this ship around, and I’m taking you ...” 

“Din,” Marathel said firmly, sliding her hand up his throat and under the edge of his helmet – something he’d never allowed anyone to do before meeting her – and her thumb pressed against his lips, stilling him into silence.  “It’s time to go back into the cockpit and drop out of hyperspace.”  She felt his lips tremble with sorrow.  “Let’s go,” she said quietly, dropping her hand.  She heard Din’s quiet sob before he turned away from her. With a sigh, Din shoved his bedroll back into the tiny room he used as his sleeping quarters, then ascended the damned ladder they’d had to climb over and over the past few days.  Marathel lifted Grogu up and into the cockpit before following Din.  They sat in their respective charis, silently strapping themselves in before Din shut off the alarm and set the controls to drop out of hyperspace.  Once again, Marathel felt her insides rearrange themselves and the old ship lurched into orbit above her home planet.  Marathel gasped at the sight of the lovely blue-green planet before her.  “Is that ...” 

Din swallowed.  “That’s Unmanarall.” 

“Why ... it’s pretty.  I never knew ... there’s so much water.  Such big oceans.”  Marathel undid her safety straps and stood to lean against the console.  “Can they see us?” 

Din cleared his throat.  “No.  We’re too small and too far away.” 

“I don’t even know where the Hold is.” 

“The Hold is just on the other side of the planet.” 

“Is Unmanarall a large planet?  As planets go?  Have you been other places that look like this?” 

Despite his deep sorrow, Din was amused by her childlike curiosity.  “It’s not very large, but yes, there are other planets similar to this one.  But the strange thing is ... your Hold is the only location on your entire planet that is inhabited by people.” 

Marathel turned to look at Din.  “I don’t understand.” 

“What that means, Marathel, is that your people had to come from somewhere, and ended up on Unmanarall.  There is no other logical explanation for your people being there.  People just don’t ... naturally occur with a small population like yours, and in only one location.” 

“But ... what does that matter?” 

“If you could find out ... If I could find out where your people originated from, maybe I could get help for the women there.”  Marathel frowned and began shaking her head.  “Marathel, even if you don’t go back to the Hold, you can’t let those women continue to suffer ...” 

“It doesn’t matter, Din.  The Hold will die out eventually.” 

Din pulled off his safety straps and stood, trying to grab at Marathel’s hands.  “You can’t mean that.” 

“Yes, I do.  Even if, for some reason, the Hold could be emptied and everyone taken back to ... wherever ... what would be the point?  We’re all too ...”  She searched for the words in Newtalk and couldn’t find them.  “Nydwes Unmanarall, Wmodhmabarall maelowyth.  That means, ‘there is nowhere else, everywhere else is death.’  We can’t leave.  I can’t manage anywhere else, none of us would be able to.  It’s just best ... to leave us to our own destruction.  I’m sure it will come soon.” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “What are you saying, Marathel?” he asked, wary. 

“I’m saying it’s time for me to go.”  She gently removed her hands from Din’s and went back to sit in the aft chair.  “Is there a way to fly in where they won’t see the ship?  I would rather they not know, so that I may quietly disappear to someplace else.” 

“It’s ... night there now. I don’t want to leave you there in the dark,” Din said, grasping for any possible reason he could to keep her on the ship. 

“It won’t matter. I will know where I am. And the Eyes of the Mothers ... the stars, I mean ... they will give me enough light to see by.” 

Din stared at her for a few moments, and then sat in his chair and began moving the controls to carefully fly the ship into the atmosphere, following her direction to avoid being observed by the Hold.  Why am I doing this? He cried out in his mind.  He came in low, just over the tops of the grove of gorugelly  trees, and touched down in a flat rocky area surrounded by thick tall underbrush.   

Once the Crest had settled, Marathel got up and went down the ladder to gather her belongings while Din flipped switches and adjusted controls.  She quickly placed the knitted jacket and slippers for Grogu, as well as the cowl and the felted wool cloths for Din, on the end of Din’s bedroll.  She located her bag, folded her blanket, and shoved it inside.  By the time Din came down the ladder with Grogu, she was refolding the blankets she had slept on.  Din waved his hand dismissively.  “You don’t have to bother with those.” 

Marathel shrugged, saying, “It’s as good as done.”  She approached him, holding out the blankets.  “Trade you?  Just for a moment?” 

Grogu was reaching out for her, so Din handed him to Marathel, taking the blankets from her.  While she cuddled with Grogu, Din turned away to place the blankets on his bedroll, and he noticed the items she had left there.  He felt a hitch in his heart, knowing that she had made those things with her own hands, her hands that were broken directly because of what they had done together, and he thought he might melt down completely.  Instead, he turned to see the woman he loved holding his boy, smiling beatifically at him as he gazed at her with his large, beautiful eyes. “My love,” said Marathel. “Thank you for being my little boy for a while.” She kissed Grogu on his little fuzzy head and gently placed him on the floor, and he escorted her to the ramp door.  

Din came to stand next to Marathel, and she turned to him, saying, “Thank you, Din.” She leaned over and kissed the side of his helmet. “Open the door, now. It’s time.” Din swallowed and dumbly reached for the controls, opening the iris-style ship door. As the ramp lowered, a breeze came in, and Marathel inhaled deeply, her eyes closed, taking in the scent of the leaves and grasses and the clean air, so different from the heat and the dust and the fumes of ship fuel on Tatooine. I’m back ... here, she thought, as she realized that Unmanarall was no longer home. She opened her eyes, shifted her weight to take a step down the ramp, and then ... paused. Marathel looked down to her feet, still in the shoes that Cobb had bought her. Din watched as she contemplated her feet for a few moments, and then she used her toe to remove one shoe, then the other, and then she used her foot to gently slide the shoes sideways and away from her. 

She did not bend to pick them up. 

She no longer needed shoes. 

Not on Unmanarall. 

Not ever again. 

It was at that moment, as he saw Marathel, once again barefoot, about to step back onto the planet that had done its best to kill her on multiple occasions, that Din knew he could not let that happen. 

Din ripped off his helmet and flung it far from him, crying, “No, Marathel! I won’t you let do this!” 

The instant she heard Din’s voice change from the modulated sound of the helmet to the low cadence of coming directly from his lips, Marathel shut her eyes tight.  She did not wish to see his face, because in her soul she knew that she didn’t deserve such a privilege.  She knew if she saw his face, she’d change her mind on leaving him. And, in the deepest darkest part of her soul, she wanted to reject his last-ditch declaration of love and cause him pain.  Make him reject her, to salve her soul for existing in corporeal form.  Her remaining life would be easier when she had nothing left to lose. 

Din grabbed her hand, shouting, “Look at me, mesh’la!  Please, look at me!” 

Marathel slapped his hands away.  “No, Din, there’s no point!”  Din got hold of one hand and one shoulder, pulling her towards him as Marathel ducked her head, keeping her eyes closed.  “Let me GO, Din, LET ME GO!”  Marathel twisted her hand loose and thrust it between Din’s flight suit and his armor.  Flexing her hand into a claw, she dug her fingertips into the flesh and muscles underneath the bite mark she’d left on him.  Where she had marked him as hers. Where he believed she could control his movements and his feelings.  Din growled in pain, and Marathel pulled her hand away as she whispered, “Be still, my love.”  Din froze in place, allowing her the moments she needed to escape him and the ship. 

Marathel’s bare feet hit the ramp, and she ran as fast as she could, running straight into the tall brush to hide herself from the Bounty Hunter, for if he did not wear his helmet, it would be harder to find her.  No seeing in the dark, no seeing how hot or cold someone was, just his own eyes.  He had seen her with his own eyes, but she had not been allowed to see him with hers, not the way she wanted! 

He never saw me as his equal, I never deserved it, no matter what he said, I was never enough for the Mandalorian, she cried in her mind, ignoring the pain in her bare feet as she ran over some brambles.  She dropped down a small ridge and dashed across a grassy field, heading for the gorugelly trees.  She went deeply into a dark thicket, looking up at the sky, waiting for the Bounty Hunter’s flying ship to soar over her head, and wink away into the stars.   

Din, with the bite mark burning and painful, heard her whispered words be still, my love, as Marathel broke away from him and ran down the ramp.  “No!” shouted Din, running after her.  “No!  Don’t make me!”  He got to the bottom of the ramp, but she’d gotten a head start on him, and he hadn’t seen which way she had gone. “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!” he shouted into the brush surrounding the ship.  “DON’T MAKE ME LET YOU GO!”   

Without his helmet, Din heard nothing but the muffled echo of his own shout into the brisk wind.   His hearing was damaged from a lifetime of explosions, and a barefoot woman running in the woods was difficult for him to hear without the benefit of his helmet.   “MARATHEL!”  he screamed into the trees that surrounded the ship.  He screamed again, “MARATHEL!”  He heard nothing but the rustle of the leaves of the trees blowing in the wind that was whipping around the ship. Din’s knees buckled and he fell hard to the ground.  Don't make me let you go, Marathel!  Damn you, Marathel, don’t do this!  If you love me as you just said you do, then DON’T LEAVE ME! He wanted to scream his pain from the depths of his soul, but he could not utter a sound. 

She was gone. 

Din dropped his head to his chest, his rasping breath going in and out.  He felt a tiny hand in his.  He looked down to see Grogu, his eyes sad.  Grogu pulled on his hand, pointing to the ship.  “Patu?” he asked. 

 “I can’t, buddy.  I can’t.  I can’t leave here without her.” Din fell to his hip and wept. 

Grogu looked down to his feet and sighed deeper than a little child like him should have been capable of.  Squeezing Din’s thumb, Grogu raised his eyes and pointed at the ship again, saying firmly, “Patu.”  Grogu let go of Din’s thumb and began toddling back up the ramp. Halfway up, Grogu turned and called to Din, “Patu!” 

When the ground beneath him refused to open up and swallow him whole, Din got to his feet, and then turned in a full circle, quietly calling for Marathel. “Marathel ... please, don’t leave me,” he whispered.  Nothing.  No response, no reappearance of the beautiful, sad, pale woman with the long silver hair.  Din’s shoulders slumped, his head fell back to his chest. With a sigh, he went up the ramp, the heels of his boots dragging as if they were too heavy for him to lift.  At the top, he turned to look out over the planet’s landscape once more, smelling the salt air and flowers, trying to breathe in the last of her scent from the air. But her scent was gone. 

She's gone. 

Din slowly stepped into the ship, closing the ramp behind him. 

Marathel remained behind a tree, waiting. Go now, Bounty Hunter, go now, go back to your life as Grogu’s father first and foremost.  Then be the Mandalorian you are meant to be.  Find your happiness, and if you can spare a moment — only a moment, no more than that, I deserve no more than that — for a thought of me, then I will be happy as well.  I promise that when I join the Mothers that Went Before in the night sky, I will watch and protect Grogu. 

Go now, Bounty Hunter.  Leave me behind. 

Marathel heard the far-off sound of the Razor Crest starting up, and she waited, watching the sky.  Shortly, Marathel watched the ship, carrying the only man she knew she would ever love, and the only child she could ever call hers, as it lifted over the treetops and disappeared out of sight. 

I love you. 

My heart breaks to keep you safe. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter->

[thewritergx]

Masked Stranger: Mandalorian x F!Reader

Summary: Rui works in her family’s shop helping tourist and local member of her community. One day, a strange man covered head to toe in Baskar walks in.

Warnings: Talks about hunting animals: Catching fish. SMUT containing: Fingering, Oral sex (male receiving), Unprotected sex, Lowkey breeding kink, Pet names (Sir, Baby, Little girl, Good girl).

Word Count: 6K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

The sun hits my face in the morning, making me squint my eyes and turn in my bed covers. I do not want to go out today, and I regret my sheer curtains. I glance at the clock on my bedside table, 6:27 AM. I think about staying in bed an extra hour, but I know my father will be pissed if I am late to the shop today. You would think he would give me a day or two off every once in a while, seeing as how I run the entire place. 

The planet of Sesid may offer beautiful beaches, but it comes with the awful tourists and ‘too cool’ locals. 

Our shop sits on the cusp of tourist’s and mainlander’s attractions. Everyday, I see out-of-planet visitors, Draedans, and other local species. The tourists are usually rude, too loud, and let their children break everything. Many are rich members of organizations I do not care to know anything about, always bringing young women who rarely speak but often offer soft smiles. Sadly, they are also our best customers, often buying extra beach towels, paying for surfing lessons, tipping the cashiers. The Draedans are also rude and loud, but they respect our business and always tip. A few help around in the shop too. Trenk is my favorite. He works with me the most and is in charge of catching our live fish and crab. He keeps our fish business afloat, but has had trouble out fishing major stores around us.

My father opened the shop when he was a young boy, promising to make a living that would support him and his mother, my avó. Most species I see in the shop speak basic, but my father has kept his mother’s language, Kenari, alive in our small family.

I finally role over in my bed, throwing my blankets off and exposing my body. The moist air hits my skin. I rub the sleep out of my eyes then make my way to the bathroom, turning on the shower and undressing. Under the water I feel my body wake from the shock of the cold drops hitting me. 

I throw on my bathing suit top, two black triangles tried around my neck, one small string keeping it in place. I wear a simple black bottom, the elastic material immediately digging into my ass cheeks. Over my swimsuit, I wear a pink sundress, easily removable but giving me more modest coverage for my walk to the shop. I imagine the tide will be perfect for a midday swim. The shop is a 5 minute walk from my small but comfortable apartment.

7:50AM, I step inside the shop. My pai (father) is already folding towels on the checkout counter. “Ten minutes early meu amor. Very good. Now come help me finish this batch,” my pai often greets me this way, working on a task and without looking up to see if it is actually me. I chuckle at him. 

“I am often early, pai. You must start trusting me to do more around the shop”, a conversation we are often having. My father does not like to admit that he is aging, that he needs help. I do not like to admit that this fact scares me. Instead I joke, calling him an old man. This time my father chuckles. “You are a funny young lady, you can’t run merda.”

Several hours pass. I feel my stomach growl. My pai has been gone the last 45 minués, leaving me in charge and without a lunch break. Trenk brought in a beautiful trout he caught this morning. Descaled and on ice, it waits to be grilled. “Hello?” I hear from the counter in front of me.  I stop fantasizing about the fresh fish and snap back to the reality for job.

“Alrighty, that will be 12 credits, please,” I say to the sticky child whose face is covered in a red, sweet slush. I hear the doorbell ding as another customer walks in. I let out a deep sigh. I look up expecting the usual customer, only to be greeted by a stranger in an important looking uniform. It is a thick black material that looks protective yet silky. On the most vulnerable parts of the body, rusty silver metal sits. The stranger is covered head to toe, a heavy helmet concealing their face. In the back, a long cape drapes down. I have never seen anyone dressed like him before, especially not with the intent to go to the beach. 

“H-how can I help you…sir?” I sound nervous when I speak, something I usually never experience as the man…at least I think he is a man, stares at me intensely. 

He cocks his head to the side, I assume in a confused manner. After a moment he lets out a small chuckle. “Yes, I hear from the locals that your shop sells the finest fish available. I am looking to buy enough to last four, maybe five days.” 

I smile. I am glad my pai’s shop is holding a standard the locals set. “Um y-yes, we have a small selection today. Not many bites this week. We have three tuna and one sea bass available right now, but they will not last that long without a cooling system,” I explain. 

“I will take the sea bass,” the man states plainly. 

“Okay, I will just need a name for the order.” I began to fill out the information needed to complete the sale. 

The man lets out another chuckle. I do not understand what is funny this time. “You do not know my people?” He asks. 

This time, I let out an awkward laugh. “Am I s-supposed to?” Now my head is cocked in confusion.

“I suppose not… I just thought with the shop so popular you would have seen one of my people before. I am a Mandalorian, Mando.” I notice now that his voice is too deep and vibrates my entire being “at least that is what my friends call me.” 

I write Mando on the form, trying not to look too interested in the man in front of me. “Okay, we have a few services available. We descale, debone, season, and cook the bass to your liking, you pick it up before the end of the day. Or you take it as is,” I smile, trying to remain casual. “The services are 20 credits, ‘as is’ will be 6 credits.”

“I will take the services.” The man reaches into a small bag, pulling out the credits and playing them in my hand. I notice the orange tips of his gloved hand as it brushes against mine. 

For a moment I am stuck admiring the man. I force myself out of my illusions and explain that the fish will be done in two to three hours, the last of the fish cooked before we close. 

The rest of the day is filled with me standing at the counter ringing up the customers, offering promotional deals, and denying the obvious flirts coming from the married rich men. It is around 6:00 PM. I flip the sign reading “open” that sits in the shops window. 

I head back to the “employees only” door, ready to be back in my apartment. I feel my shoulders relax as I am finally alone in the store. Trenk sometimes stays to help me close, but with the lack of bites, he is forced to go out at dawn. The perfect casting time.

In the quiet of the shop, I hear the main door ding open. “Sorry, we’ve closed,” I yell across the shop. I hear no response and decide to walk back to the counter. I guess this asshole thinks their money is more important than my time. 

As I get back behind the counter I am treated again by my mystery man from earlier in the day. “Oh, s-sorry. I am usually very good at remembering who is coming to pick up”. Although I was pissed a moment ago about the late customer, I feel a tingle of excitement at the man in front of me. 

“It is okay, um.” he stands motionless in front of me. I wonder what he is thinking. After a moment he finally lets out another soft chuckle. “Your name, I did not get it”. 

“Oh uh, my n-name is Rui,” I mumble. It is a name carried down by many women in my family. 

“Rui, very pretty.” Again, the man and I remain motionless. I feel a shifting start in our energy. 

“It is my avó’s name… t-thank you.” I feel my skin tingle and suddenly I become aware of my messy hair and sweaty forehead. 

“My fish?” The man finally asks and I startle back to my job.“Oh, yes I-I am sorry sir.” I hurry to our warmer in the back, grabbing the sea bass wrapped in reusable wax paper. It is warm and smells amazing. A flavor only Trenk can achieve. 

“Mando,” he responds back, “just call me Mando.”

Back behind the counter, I hand him the fish. This time, I see his hands are exposed. His skin is a golden color, like the sunrise on Sesid. “Okay, Mando. You are all set. Is there anything else I can do for you?” My customer service voice is back on. 

“Eat with me?” He responds, “I know you must be hungry from working.” His hands still press against mine, staying in limbo as we pass over the fish. 

“Oh uh, um.. I can do that.” Usually, I would never allow myself to be this comfortable around a stranger, much less one that does not show any part of their body to the world. “W-would you, uh, like to go to my a-apartment? I live only a block away.” 

He breaks his hands away from mine. I weirdly miss the feeling. I am not sure the sensation my body is feeling. “Yes, sounds nice,” he answers with confidence. Not once have I heard this breathe change patterns or his voice stutter. 

Mando and I close up the shop. I place the sea bass in a paper sack and slip it around my shoulder. We walk side by side the five minutes of alleyways it takes to my front door. His hand brushes up against mine a few times. I wonder if it is purposeful and how far I will allow it to go. 

“I do not have people over often, so don’t judge my place too hard.” I suddenly feel nervous as we get to the door. I wonder if I am feeling regret or embarrassment at inviting a stranger into my home. 

“I live on an old metal ship with a tiny green savage. Your place beats mine.” As we enter I feel him place his ungloved hand against the small of my back. I decide I like the feeling and I let him keep it there. 

We walk inside and I place the fish inside my oven, keeping it warm while I make arroz, a white rice. Mando sits at my counter, watching as I plate the rice and remove the fish from the warm oven. I cut the fish in two halves, giving him the bigger piece and place them on top of the rice. Over the fish and rice I drizzle a homemade sauce, one my dad has been making since he was my age. Mano looks at me with his head cocked to the side again. That confused face again. “Is something wrong,” I ask. I wonder if my voice sounds as concerned as I truly am.

“You really do not know my people, huh? I am a mandalorian. You have heard of us?” He faces me now, turning his body toward me as we sit on the small stools in my kitchen.

“I’m sorry, I tend to keep to myself most days. I have really never heard of a mandalorian. What do you do?” I notice at that moment I have many questions about the man and his culture. 

He brushes my hair behind my ear and I smile. “So innocent”. I feel my face heat up and my body start to shiver. He softly clears his throat and for a moment pauses. He removes his hand and sits a bit more upright. 

“Um, my people are bounty hunters. I am on the planet looking for a Draedan.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a picture. A Draedan with a huge scar that goes from the top of his forehead to his neck, looks plainly in the camera. “We do not show our faces, ever, to anyone. We do not tell people our names.” 

I probably looked shocked for a moment. Once I process the information I let my face relax. “That sounds lonely.” I say softly, placing my hand on the side of his helmet. I feel the cold metal press against my hand. 

After a moment of quiet, I chuckle lightly. “How do you eat then?”

He laughs a real, deep, laugh this time. “I will turn away from you and you will turn away from me. I am trusting you though, not to look.” Suddenly his voice is serious and pleading at the same time. 

“Okay, I understand.” I turn around slowly, holding the plate of food in my lap. I feel him shifting and hear a heavy metal being placed on my counter beside him. The moment feels strangely intimate, and I am scared I will turn around. Scared I’ll break his trust. For a moment I think about it. I would like to see his hair. I wonder if he has a big nose, if his face is scared like the  Draedan in the picture. 

“I will be back to buy more fish. The locals did not lie, it is amazing.” For a moment I do not recognize who is talking. His voice is more gentle, less raspy. For some reason, I feel a fire in me igniting at the sound of it. 

For a while, we eat in silence. I feel his back press against mine. Even in this position, I feel the weight of the cold metal. “So um, I…Can people see you body or is that off limits too?” I immediately feel stupid for asking. 

“You can see my body…if you would like.” Finally I hear his breathing change patterns. I know mine has too. I feel a shiver run down my body, right to my most sensitive areas. “Would you.. like to, Rui?” He asks slowly.I feel unable to speak. I swallow and try to gain the words. My back is still pressed against his, and I am happy he cannot see how flushed my face has become. “Y-yes, sir.” It comes out a whisper, hardly heard by the Mandalorian. 

“Just Mando,” he states. Again, his voice is back to the confident normalcy I have grown to. 

“Yes, Mando.” I hesitantly reply. “W-would uh, you l-like to see mine?” 

Mando says nothing back. I feel him moving around and his plate cling gently on the counter. I know he is standing behind me now because he places his hand against my cheek brushing the soft skin. I hear his boots take a few steps and he is now standing in front of me, pushing my legs apart to stand in between them. He takes the plate from my lap, sitting it next to his. He grazes my cheek again, running his hand down to my shoulder. His fingers reach the straps of my dress and play with the thin string. 

“I like this outfit. Do you wear dresses often?” His hand moves down lower, hovering just above my breast. 

“Only on days I am expecting to teach suffering lessons.” I answer too matter-of-factly. I wonder if I’ve ruined his flirty vibe. 

Mando laughs. I decide I love the sound of it. Helmet or not. “May I take it off?” He asks.

“Y-yes, Mando.” My body begins to shake, and my voice is a higher pitch than usual. 

Gently, he picks me up off the stool and places my feet on the wooden floorboards. He stands in front of me and wraps his hands around my shoulders, pulling my dress softly to the floor. Immediately, I feel my body exposed to the air. 

“Shit. You are so pretty, Rui. May I touch you?” His hands are by his side now and remain motionless. 

“Yes, sir…Mando. Please.” I can’t believe I am begging for this man already. It has been too long since I have been with anyone else. Longer than I care to admit. 

“If you keep calling me sir, I might not be able to stop.” Even with the helmet on, I swear I feel his hot breath against me. Gently, he moves his hands down to my breast, cupping a handful and messaging. 

“You like when I call you that? Sir?” I look at him, where I believe his eyes would be.

He lets out a groan and begins to untie the small strap keeping my bikini top up. 

“I have a feeling I would like any name that comes out of your mouth.” He places my nipples between two fingers, playing and tugging on them gently. I let out a soft moan, and bring my hands to his wrist, holding on as he continues.

“Fuck Mando, please. I-I think I need more.” My voice is desperate and already tired. “Can I please take this off?” I point to the metal plate on his chest, wanting to grab something, anything that is truly him. 

“Soon baby girl, right now I want to make you feel good.”

I lead Mando to my bedroom, a soft lighting from the lamp in the corner filling the room. Mando places me gently on the bed. He stands in front of me and lifts my ass off the bed just enough to pull down my bottoms. I bring my legs together, unsure of my body at this moment. 

Mando brings two fingers to my mouth, “Get these real wet, baby” he instructs. Immediately I began to suck, bobbing my head, twisting my tongue around them, and gathering as much salvia as my mouth will allow. 

“That’s so good, little girl.” Mando softly begins to spread my legs, exposing my pussy to the cool air. I push back against him, making him use more force. 

“Are you gonna make me get rough with you?” He says in a tone that I swear I see a crooked smile. 

“No, sir” I say around his fingers. I wonder how rough he would get, if I allow him to.

“Good, Rui. Now let me see you.” He uses a demanding tone, but I feel safe. Like if I truly didn’t want to, he would stop and apologize.

I decide not to test him anymore, and slowly I spread my legs farther, giving him a real view. I trace my finger down my body and began to spread the lips of my pussy. I hear Mando let out a quite “fuck”. It sends shivers down my body.

Finally, Mando removes his finger from my mouth, satisfied with the amount of spit coating them. He brings them to my clit, lightly forming small circles. It is agonizing slow but melting my body.

“Oh shit, Mando. That feels good,” I breathe in between moans. His name rolls off of my tongue too gently, too satisfying. 

“Such a sensitive little girl. How long has it been since this pussy was touched?” I feel his fingers speed up a bit, and he starts to approach my entrance. 

“Two, no…three years.” I answer honestly but I feel embarrassed to admit it to him. There really had been no reason I waited so long to be intimate with anyone, other than the fact that every man on this watery planet seems to disgust and annoy me. Plus, I use my own toys. Although I admit it will never feel as good as another person, it keeps me from needing anyone else’s pleasure. 

Mando’s fingers slow, almost to a stop. He looks at me and caresses my face.“I will take my time, then. Just relax, Rui.” He starts to speed up his fingers again, costing small moans out of me.

I feel him begin to insert one finger, and I let out a dazed gasp. Slowly, he inserts his index finger to his knuckle. He leaves it there for a moment before he begins to pull it out and pump it back in. I feel my pussy squeeze around it, sucking it farther inside me. 

His other hand travels to my neck gently applying soft pressure. “T-that’s so tight,” Mando whispers, his voice dark and needy. I only let out a moan in response, too nervous to speak.

A few minutes pass of his finger pumping in and out before I start to feel him forming a “come here” motion, hitting my g spot. 

“May I add another?” Mando releases his hand from my neck, slowly crassesing it down my body. 

I breathe deeply, nodding my head. 

“Let me hear you say it, little girl.” I feel him remove his finger entirely, waiting for my response.

“Yes, Mando. Please, add another. It feels so good”. My voice is shaky, almost a whimper. 

“Good little girl.” He adds his fingers back in and immediately I feel a change in the tightness, an extra pressure added. This time, he curls his finger with more strength. Each motion he makes presses against my g spot with light force, making me more wet by the second. 

“Oh fuck, I might come like that,” I plead. Mando responses with a groan, and I see him begin to palm himself throughout his jeans. 

His pace grows steadily and I feel the pressure grow inside me. 

“Fuck, yes baby. Cum on my fingers.” I hear him finally unzip his pants, removing his dick from the pressure of clothes. 

I do as I’m told and feel myself tighten even more around his fingers. The pressure inside me finally breaks and I release all the stress my body has held throughout the day. 

“Mmh, good girl. Look at the mess you made. Look so pretty cumming on my fingers.” He removes his fringers from inside me. I see the slick, hot wetness left on them and lick my lips. I wonder for a moment what I taste like but my thought it cut short when I feel him shove his fingers in my mouth again. It tastes hot, sticky. I moan and lick my wetness away, craving a different taste. 

I sit up, placing my hands on his clothed thighs, finally paying more attention to the thick length of the man in front of me. He is big, bigger than any ex I’ve been with. I notice the tan, pink tip and the thickness. I hope it will fit in my mouth. “C-Can I um, suck it?” I ask nervously. 

“Would you like to?” I hear a sense of hesitation in his voice. 

“Yes, I would really like to.” I look up, making as much eye contact with him as the helmet will allow. I see myself in his vizer. I admire the shape of my ass, the roundness of my boobs. 

I began to slowly lower his jeans, unveiling his balls and the golden skin of his thighs. I began to slowly kiss the skin around his member. I feel him place his hand on my head, lightly gripping my hair. Suddenly, I start to feel nervous. It has been centuries since I took anyone else in my mouth, and I feel my throat start to dry. 

Before I start to doubt myself anymore, I decide to go for it and take the tip in my mouth. I open my mouth wide, careful not to hit him with my teeth. 

“Oh shit, that’s it. Good little girl.” I look up and see Mano’s head is already tilted back, his grip in my hair tightening. I start to bob my head, making sure not to move pass the tip. I swirl my tongue, tasting the precum that has leaked out considerably. There is a hint of salt and sweat under the taste of warm vanilla. I hear Mondo’s groans grow louder and more frequently. I take it as a sign of success and move my mouth farther down his length. I allow him to hit the back of throat and let out a deep gag. I feel my split pile up and release him from my mouth before settling the spit on his tip. I begin pumping my hand down his member before returning it to my mouth. 

“Fuck. Rui, you are doing so good.” I feel my heart flutter with content, my doubt slowly leaving my thoughts. Mando abruptly applies pressure to my head, forcing me down further. “Twist your hand while you're pumping me,” he demands. 

I do as I’m told, wanting to please him as much as I can. I let out a “yes, Mando” as much as my full throat will allow me to. 

Mando countines to use my mouth and push me down further. I try my hardest to keep my mouth open and breathe through my nose. After a few minutes he begins slowing his pace and losses his grip in my hair. 

“If you keep letting me do that, I’m gonna cum before I even get a chance to feel you wrapped around me.” His beating is deep. I see his chest rising and falling under his gear.

“You liked it?” I ask with a glimmer of hope, whipping away the spit from my mouth and hands on the blanket under me.

“Your mouth is a paradise. I could stay inside it for days if you allowed me to.” Mando straightened up my hair, removing any mess his fingers may have made. I try not to let his statement go to my head and instead let out a polite thank you. 

In this moment, I want so badly to kiss him, to suck a mark on his neck. Instead, I place a kiss on the cold metal of his chest. Silently, he teasingly removes the material cover his chest and the boots blocking his pants until he is left standing in only his helmet. 

I feel excitement run throughout my body. I try to keep from shaking as I run my hands down his chest. I notice a few big scars scattered around his chest, stomach, a few on his arms. I kiss each of them, paying extra attention to one justt under his concealed neck. I wonder for a moment how he got each of them. Did they hurt? Are there any he wishes were gone? Does he enjoy having a badge of honor from his bounties? I notice one that's pinker than the rest, more fresh and angry looking. I run my finger over it lightly, taking in every detail of his body he will allow me. 

Mando steps closer, cupping my chin in his hand. I nuzzle in his grip, feeling the rough calluses of his palm brush against me. Mando lays me down flat on the bed, my legs bent at the knees. He brings his body forward, starting to hover over me. He places his palms at the side of my head, lining up his pelvis with mine. I feel his cock lightly brush against the outside of my thigh and I shiver. I am unable to control by breathing anymore and I shake nervously. 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He says, his covered face just over mine. 

“Yes, sir,” I nod, and spread my legs to give him easier access.

Mando starts to align the tip of his cock to my entrance. I grip one of his arms, preparing for the sensation of pressure as the first inch or two enter me. I let out a gasp, feeling him stretch me more than I ever have been. I feel my climax build already. 

“Oh fuck, Mando.” I try to calm myself down and relax my body, “You’re so big”. I try not to moan too loud as I feel him finally press all the way in. He hits my cervix softly, causing more moans to leave my mouth. Mando waits for a moment, making sure I am ready for him to start moving. 

I nod at his hesitantly. Gently, he moves his hips out. I feel his tip still inside before he moves back in again. He is so thick, I feel my walls almost reject him. He brushes again me g-spot, and I try not to wiggle away from him.

“So tight, so wet for me,” Mando whispers. I feel the vibration from the voice changer in the air. Manos bends his arms, his forearms now resting next to my head. His body is closer now, the full weight of him presses against me. His helmet rests at the side of my head, and I hear every groan and breath he makes. I wrap my legs around him, sinking him in further.

His trust get a bit faster and he hits my g-spot with more force. I can hear his skin slapping against mine and the sound of our wetness mixing. My moans become more of a cry as my body begs for more pressure. More of him. My hands travel down to his back and I try not to dig my nails too deep. Although from the sight of his scars, I’m sure he can take it.

“Fuck Mando, please.” I can hardly form words any longer. 

“Please What, Rui? What do you need from me, little girl?

“Please, a little harder,” I say through gasps of air. Immediately he snaps his hips harder against me. I almost see stars before the pressure builds in me even more. “Yes, just like that. I’m about to cum.” After a few thrust he is pushing me over the edge and my legs are shaking around him. My walls grip him tighten and I swear my juices are leaking from my entrance. 

“Good girl, cum all over this dick.” Mando speeds up even more, each thrust hammering my g-spot. Before I’m able to recover, I’m pushed over the edge again. This time my body is unable to prepare, and I let out a small scream. 

I feel Mando’s thrust get messy, loosing his rhythm . His breath gets hotter, thicker and he is whispering dirty pet names in my ear. 

“Fuck, baby. So so tight. Where should I finish?” It takes me a moment to process his question. Once I understand, I contemplate begging him to fill me up, drip down my thighs, and make me his. I try to throw the thought away and tell him to cum anywhere else, but I can’t force myself to stop thinking of the warm sensation. 

“J-just wherever you want, anywhere.” It comes high pitched and needy. 

“Tell me where, Rui. Where do you want it?” I hear the struggle in his voice, each word dragged out an extra syllable. 

I let out a quite, unintelligible “I-inside me, please”. 

“Good little girl, so sweet to me.” His hips hit me with a force I have never experienced, hitting my cervix so hard I swear it will leave a bruise. My nails are undeniably digging in his back, leaving marks that will last for days. I try not to scream anymore and bite down on Mando’s fingers he’s brought back inside my mouth. I feel small tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

After a few thrust, I hear Mando let out a string of curses. His fluid mixes with mine, and I feel a warm thick substance spill out of the side around Mando’s cock. He slows his hips and stays motionless inside me. After and a few moments, he gently pulls out and I whine form the lost of him.

He lays next to me as I try to stop my breathing and keeps moans from falling out of my mouth. My legs are still shaking and I feel unable to move. Mando notices my struggle, and brings me up to chest, laying on top of him. 

“Shh little girl, I got you. You did so good for me.” Mando slowly rubs my back letting out more small “shh” sounds. After a few minutes, my breathing is relaxed and the shaking is less intense. I feel my eyes getting heavy as I relax into his warm body and before I can keep myself from the temptation, I am falling asleep in his arms.

[lady-phasma]

Impenetrable

Chapter 1 of 5 (cross posted from AO3)

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Dar'Nîla (Togruta OFC)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, general smut, p in v sex in later chapters, D/s if you squint, plot if you squint. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Mando and Dar'Nîla meet and she's quite brazen. Reference images for Dar'Nîla after the cut. I wrote this during season 2, around episode 5. No beta. 2k words.

This is my reference for Dar'Nîla from the video game The Old Republic.

I saw him walk into the cantina. I watched him over the top of my mug as he went to the bar. You couldn’t not watch him. The beskar he was wearing was so new it reflected everything near him.

What could a Mandalorian possibly get at a bar? I thought. Do they use straws? No, that’s too banal.

I couldn’t stop staring. I knew he could feel all of us watching. But how many of those eyes were trying to determine how difficult it would be to seduce him while assuring him you wanted his armor to stay on? Probably only mine.

I sat my drink down, placed my front lekku meticulously to frame my breasts, and shimmied my shirt down just a little. The thin, white fabric pulled tight across the rise of my breasts and my purple skin shone through bright and unmistakable. The leather vest rode just below like a corset. I wasn’t great at being feminine but I could give a good show. My shitty, practical boots and plain leather pants were about as unfeminine as it could get. The one asset the pants had was how they stretched tight against and accentuated my ass. I checked the room and saw I had no competition so I stood, smoothed my pants over my hips, and walked to his table.

“Hi,” was somehow the best I could manage. I was never this forward.

His head turned, deliberately slow. I was immediately aware of the advantage he had over me: he could see facial expressions that I only had to guess at. This was going to be tough.

“Yes?” he responded.

I slid into the chair across from him and propped my elbows on the table, my breasts on my arms. I was going to make this easy for him because that would make it easier for me. One lek fell in front of my carefully arranged display and I brushed it aside.

“Um, yeah, hi! I’m Dar’Nîla,” I managed.

“Hi.”

“You don’t say much do you?” I beamed at him. “I’ve heard about you. They call you Mando.” I flashed my blue eyes at him.

“Some do.”

“ Can I call you that?” I played with a crumb on the table that I found, suddenly, much more fascinating than the blank surface of his helmet.

“Sure. What’s on your mind… Dar….?” He trailed off.

“‘Nîla,” I finished for him.

“Dar’Nîla, right. What’s on your mind?” he asked again.

I stammered. I’m never great at flirting and usually better at it when I don’t have a clue that I’m actually doing it. He was just so unsettling, so disarming. He was no one. Only what I projected onto him until he spoke or moved. Those were the only glimpses allowed into his personality. How could I possibly find something to flirt about? It was like talking to my reflection.

I investigated the table, ran a finger around an old ring from a glass. This place was filthy. But my mouth had gone incredibly dry. I flagged a hand at a waitress and ordered another beer. I looked him in the eye.

“What’s on my mind is that I would very much like to have a beer with you, ahem, near you is more accurate I guess, get to know you a little better, and then try to get you in my pants since there’s very little chance I could get in yours.” I blurted all of this out at once so that he couldn’t interrupt me and so I wouldn’t lose my courage.

That was the best possible moment for my beer to arrive. I buried my face in it and looked up at him. His head was tilted just slightly. Curious? Maybe. Offended? He hadn’t run for the door. Yet.

“Well, Dar’Nîla, that was quite the speech. Did you have anything specific in mind?” he asked.

I could feel his eyes on me and hear the smirk on his lips. I don’t know if he’d had one or one hundred women but he definitely knew how to manipulate me. I gulped some more beer, mostly to give myself time to think of an appropriate answer.

“Ummmm we could sit here and talk, since you’re so chatty and all, or we could get me some dinner and make our way back to your place. Get to know you better along the way?” I looked into my beer as I said the last bit. I couldn’t look at him. I was able to say all that about pants a moment ago and now I only wanted to crawl under the table. He made me feel like he was pure and I was… was what? Unclean for having these thoughts. But I knew that wasn’t true from the way he moved. The way he stayed.

His movements were slow and deliberate. He stood and reached for my hand at the same time. His gloved fingers lifted mine and I followed. I dropped some credits on the table for the beer before we walked out.

The suns were setting. The street vendors’ food crackled over fires and the smells drifted and mingled around us. I was working hard at playing it cool. I was quite sure I was not succeeding. I made a lot of assumptions about him. I assumed he wouldn’t be eating. He probably ate alone. So I stopped at a food stall and swapped some credits for a meat on a stick. Not sure what it was exactly but the sizzling fat smelled delicious. We carnivores aren’t terribly picky eaters when we’re very hungry. I tore off a mouthful.

“So, do this often, do you?” I asked as I chewed and swallowed. I was so nervous around him that I forgot all of my manners. He completely disarmed me.

“No.”

Fuck, would I ever get more than one word out of this man? I licked sauce off of my finger and looked at my boots as we walked. When I looked up he was staring at me.

“Me either,” I said. “In fact, I don’t really talk to people I don’t know. I just… I don’t know, I thought I would risk it.”

I looked back at my feet and blushed. Hard. I could feel the heat rise from my neck, first deep violet then light pink as it hit my white cheeks. All the way up my montrals and down my lekku. Sheesh. This was embarrassing.

I felt him pause. I stopped a step ahead and turned back. He seemed to be searching for something, listening maybe. God it was so hard to tell with that helmet. He turned and looked past me.

“Here,” he said and he slid a hand around mine and started walking. I’m glad he had his back to me because my mouth hung open. I shook myself out of the shock and followed.

He gave a few credits to a man selling frozen, shaved juices. I stood, mutely, watching his movements. His head tilted just enough for me to imagine he was smiling. Maybe his helmet was more expressive than I thought. He handed me the shaved ice. The evening was hot even after the suns set. I wouldn’t have thought to get this treat for myself but since he was buying. Why not? Bounty hunters aren’t hard up for credits.

I stared at the cone of ice as if I had forgotten how to eat. I looked up at him questioningly.

“I would like to watch you eat it,” he said. It was flat with no inflection. I couldn’t object or give it back to him. I couldn’t tell him he was weird and to keep his stupid shaved juice. In fact, I wanted the opposite. My body tingled like I had touched a live wire. I wanted to perform for him. I looked directly at him and licked the sweet ice. The movements of his helmet were almost invisible but once I knew what to look for I began to see them more clearly. This one seemed to be focus, intensity, just the slightest forward tilt. I tasted it again. My face was on fire. I wanted to die from embarrassment. I could guess a million reasons he wanted this but none of them mattered.

There was nothing in the world at that moment but the two of us. The noise of the street around us faded away. I could see my distorted reflection in his helmet and that inspired me to take a longer lick from my ice. I closed my eyes, wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. He took a step closer to me. This could not actually be happening to me. This was all a fantasy I created and I was still sitting in the cantina.

No. He walked closer and put a hand on the small of my back. He guided me toward an alley. He was touching me. I felt like I was shaking all over. We stopped a few feet into the alley. He took the cone from my hand and dropped it by my feet. I was frozen. What was happening? The Mandalorian actually wanted me? He wanted something. I wasn’t sure what but here we were.

He stepped toward me and I moved back so that I was pressed against the dusty wall. He put his hand on it beside my head. His body turned away from the street so that his cape hid me almost entirely. I exhaled. I had been holding my breath but in this small world he created for us I started to relax. To feel less embarrassed.

“Well?” he said. He was so cryptic. This air of mystery was almost overdone. Almost an act, yet… yet not.

“Well…” I replied. “I’m beginning to think this is all on your terms, so what would you like?”

He thought about this for a moment. His free hand started up and then fell back to his side. His helmet moved slightly. Then his hand was on my waist. Gentle but squeezing just a bit. I tried hard not to react but his grip was strong. I grazed my fingers over the vambrace on his forearm. His fingers tensed when I touched the metal. I traced a line up his arm and then down to his chest. Trying to read his mind was excruciating.

Slowly, letting him see the direction of each movement as it began, I placed one hand on his side and the other on the vambrace near my head. I felt the rough fabric of his shirt under my palm, the muscles underneath moving with his breath. I slid my hand around to the small of his back and pulled him closer. I pushed my hips out to meet his. I moaned through my teeth when I finally felt his body on mine.

The cuisses covering his thighs were hard against my legs. But that wasn’t all that was hard. I moved my hips just enough to feel that, yes, The Mandalorian was enjoying himself. I had read his mind well enough it seemed. I moved my hand down to his ass and pressed against him as much as either of us could stand.

He muttered something and abruptly grabbed my waist with both hands. He almost picked me up as he moved me away from him. He placed me at arms length with the concentration a child has with the placement of a doll. I think he really wanted to tell me to “stay put” or something like that. So, I crossed my arms across my chest, jutted one hip out, and pouted.

When he saw the look on my face he shook his head.

“My ship isn’t far from here,” he said.

[skyeconch]

Y/N, relaxes inside of Mando’s embrace : Who knew you were such a nice guy underneath your grumpy exterior?

Mando, tilted his head to look at them :

Mando, caresses their cheek with his fingertips : Don’t go telling anyone else or they’ll be disappointed to find out it’s only for you.

Y/N : and your son.

Y/N, gestures at Grogu who’s asleep inside their arms :

Mando, looks at him sleeping peacefully:

Mando, silently agrees as he’s caressing his little head :

Y/N, just snuggled more into his arms :

Bonus

[celsblondy]

percy jackson one shot

percy jackson x oc fem

one shot escrito por celes. basado en los libros, antes de "El último héroe del Olimpo"

Lara jamás entendió que era lo que tenía tan ocupado a su vecino.

Conocía a Percy Jackson desde que se lo cruzó en las escaleras en sus primeros días de mudanza. Era un niño muy extraño, porque vivía viendo cosas que no existían, y aunque para Lara era bastante cool pensar que existían animales fantásticos volando por los edificios de Nueva York, nada de eso resultaba cierto cuando llegaba a su casa y veía que la realidad era solo una marca de pintura, no había magia ni cosas de los cuentos. Lara no era una princesa o reina, no tenía caballeros a su mando o no tenía que salvar al mundo como Spider-Man... Ella era solo una mortal y siempre iba a ser así. Percy Jackson era el chico que le hacía pensar que podría imaginar algún día cumplir sus fantasías más locas, y muchas veces ella lo ayudó a escapar del apestoso Gabe, el padrastro horrible de Percy que parecía disfrutar de ver infelices a su esposa y a su hijastro.

Cuando Percy la abandonó por irse a Yancy, dejó de tener esa niñez al lado de Percy. Cuando él volvió, ella lo encontró en el mismo camino que la primera vez que lo vio, y le sonrió con menos energía que su primera vez. Y cuando Percy se libró de la horrible relación abusiva de Gabe siendo una mierda con él y su madre, ella lo recibió con un abrazo aunque... Algo había cambiado en él.

━ Estoy en un campamento. ━ así le dijo en una de sus charlas nocturnas y diurnas.

Lara y Percy se hablaban de día en el pequeño balcón del hogar de ella y en la noche estaban en el de Percy. Era un ritual bastante tonto y hasta cliché para ambos, digno de una película romántica cuando estaba en su época dorada, pero ellos lo repetían para saludarse apenas empezaba el día y para despedirse antes de dormir. Él le hablaba de su campamento, de cómo tenía más amigos y hasta un medio hermano por parte de su padre (el que había desaparecido en la vida de Percy), y ya no había historias con monstruos, sueños raros o un mundo más allá de la realidad lógica y normal... Ahora las cosas, las charlas iban a un ritmo normal, uno donde Percy se abría al mundo y tenía nuevos vínculos, un brillo en sus ojos de sentirse aceptado pero también un peso en sus hombros que Lara desconocía cual era. Ella lo escuchaba con tanta atención cada mañana y noche, y cuando le tocaba hablar podía sentir como Percy memorizaba cada palabra que salía de su boca aunque ella aseguraba siempre que su vida no era tan loca más que lo típico en la vida de un niño volviéndose adolescente.

━ He pensado en el futuro y en lo que quiero estudiar. ━ Percy frunció el ceño esa vez que la escucho.

━ Yo no he pensado en eso todavía... ━ murmuró pensativo, recibió en sus manos el vaso de gaseosa que Lara trajo de la cocina de Percy.

━ Yo soy ansiosa, Percy ━ se encogió de hombros ━ . No sientas que debes pensar en tu futuro, aún nos falta mucho por delante.

Recuerda tan bien como Percy trago saliva ante esa mención, como miro el paisaje de Nueva York con su urbanización y como esos ojos verde mar quisieron decirle algo más, unas palabras trabadas en su corazón y lengua, y eso no lo dejo de taladrar en la cabeza.

━ ¿Y qué quieres ser de grande? ━ desvío su atención, noto que solo buscaba seguir la charla por un enfoque fuera de él.

Lara suspiro con pesar esa noche, tomó en sus manos el vaso después que Percy tomará, dio un trago un poco largo y luego apoyó lentamente su cabeza en el hombro del muchacho.

━ Quiero trabajar en la historia ━ río leve ━. Me gusta la paleontología, y quiero saber al respecto, o estar en los museos... Me encanta la historia, descubriendo nuevas cosas y entender el mundo como un cuento de muerte, nacimientos, amores, traiciones, me entiendes ¿no? ━ su amigo sonrió de lado, le vino un escalofrío cuando el brazo de Percy se movió hasta abrazar sus hombros.

━ Vas a ser la mejor historiadora, paleontóloga o lo que sea ━ aseguró con dulzura, sin dejar de ver el paisaje de Nueva York ━ . Yo te voy a apoyar en todo lo que quieras. ━ Lara hizo un pequeño puchero antes de verlo por completo a Percy, sintiendo una caricia al alma y un apoyo incondicional de parte de su vecino y amigo.

━ ¿En todo? ━ él asintió ━ ¿hasta si quiero vender panchos en la esquina?

━ Yo te compraría todos los días.

━ ¿Y si no quiero estudiar y solo quiero hacer canjes como influencer? ━ Percy río.

━ Yo sería tu mayor fan y buscaría hacerte promoción para que todos te conozcan. ━ Lara puso los ojos en blanco y le dio un pequeño codazo amistoso.

━ Pero no usas teléfono, idiota. ━ Percy se encogió de hombros antes de contraatacar el codazo con un abrazo, rodeando el cuerpo de Lara y sintiendo su mejilla apoyada en su pecho.

━ ¿Y? Me compraría uno. ━ ambos rieron, aunque Percy sabía que era capaz de hacerlo (siendo que eso podría ponerlo en riesgo).

Lara siempre recordaría esa noche donde Percy le hizo saber que estaría para ella en las desgracias, en las alegrías, en los errores y hasta en los momentos más aburridos de su vida. Esa noche su amigo beso su mejilla, le susurro un "te quiero, tonta" y miraron los edificios abrazados; mientras Sally Jackson miraba la escena entre preocupada por su hijo (ya saben, es un mestizo, tranquilamente le podría caer un monstruo de la nada) y encantada de la escena, porque Percy estaba en su lugar favorito: en donde sea que estuviera Lara.

El tiempo pasa, Percy se volvió más raro y ocupado que lo normal, porque Lara conocía que había algo que Jackson le ocultaba. No solo parecía vivir en ese campamento, sino que tenía momentos donde ella quedaba de "¿que te pasa, loco de mierda?" y un ejemplo era cuando jugaron tutti-frutti, había visto que su amigo tenía una lapicera a mano, se la arrebató de las manos en juego diciendo que ella usaría esa pero Percy se puso tan pálido que la asustó, le sacó la lapicera y aunque se vio normal (sacando esos segundo donde quedó pálido), no la miraba a los ojos y desviaba el tema mucho, rarísimo. Eso que en el medio parecía que las expulsiones de Percy en las escuelas que iban aumentaban, aún recuerda el incendio que supuestamente él provocó, o cuando Sally se hizo conocida por la estatua de piedra que le resultaba familiar... En serio, ella veía algo raro.

Pero jamás obtuvo respuestas, porque Percy Jackson no quería darlas y eso fue el colmo de Lara. ¿Qué estaba pasando? ¿Por que se lo ocultaba a ella? ¿Era demasiado secreto o no confiaba en la mismísima Lara, la chica por la quiero él dijo que apoyaría en todo y la quería?

Y cuando Lara no se presentó dos días seguidos a sus charlas matutinas de día y noche, Percy se preocupó. A este punto de la historia, Lara estaba bastante desconfiada de Jackson, y el colmo fue ver que Percy iba a una nueva escuela con una chica llamada Rachel que parecía saber más que ella. Siempre recordó cuando la conoció porque Percy se la presentó, a Lara le cayó súper bien pero Rachel en momentos tiró ciertas cosas que no entendió, chistes internos que Rachel pensó que Lara sabía pero no... Lara no sabía nada y esa chica sí, ¿por qué? Repito, ¿qué estaba pasando?

━ Lara. ━ ella estaba sentada en el balcón de su casa, el atardecer iluminaba Nueva York aunque no era tan atractivo de ver, era un atardecer ordinario.

━ ¿Por qué estás aquí? ¿Quién te dejó? ━ el tono frío provocó un golpe al corazoncito de Percy.

━ Tu mamá ━ contesto con temor en su tono, como si pensara que cada palabra que saliera de su boca iba a provocar las cosas para mal ━ . Lara, ¿qué pasó? ━ siguiendo con ese miedo, Percy camino con lentitud hasta ella y se sentó a su lado.

Lara miraba fijo un punto que no fuese Percy, su cabello semirecogido con el característico frizz del que tanto ella se quejaba. No tenía maquillaje porque su humor estaba tan abajo que perjudicaba su rutina de maquillarse para ser una chica feliz de la vida. El muchacho observaba el perfil de la joven que no se dignaba a decir algo, y no la presionó porque tarde o temprano Lara hablaría, o al menos le daría una mirada con sus ojos oscuros y en sus sueños esperaba una sonrisa ladeada de su parte.

En cambio, ella tiró la bomba.

━ ¿Que pasa? ━ repitió la pregunta ━ . Creo que pasan muchas cosas y esa cosa pasa entre nosotros, Perseo. ━ los ojos verde mar se confundieron, las palabras de Lara fueron como una ráfaga violenta e inesperada de viento que chocaba con el mar, provocando pequeñas olas que desestabilizaba al capitán de su humilde barco.

━ ¿A qué te refieres?

━ Hay algo que me ocultas, lo sé ━ Percy desvío la mirada, miro el suelo que estaba a metros de ellos y trago saliva nervioso ━ . Hace tiempo que lo he notado, pero pensé que era porque tenias una nueva forma de vida en ese campamento y actividades que te tenían lejos, pero yo no puedo seguir así. Me siento en la deriva sin saber que te pasa, sin entender a qué se refería Rachel cuando dijo que ella golpeó a alguien con un cepillo de pelo, o porque tienes pequeñas marcas en ti como si te hubieras peleado a muerte con alguien... Dios, hasta ese mechón de pelo, las desapariciones constantes que haces cuando caminamos juntos por la calle o las grandes sospechas de tus expulsiones, la aventura que tuviste a los 12 años y... ¡No lo se! Hay tantas cosas, hay sensaciones que me dicen que hay algo que no me cuentas y me duele.

━ No quiero lastimarte, jamás querría hacerte eso, Lara. ━ la seguridad en la voz de Percy si la tomó desprevenida, más cuando antes habló miedoso y poco.

━ Pero me duele porque siento que algo no estoy bien ━ reconoció ella y por fin se dignó a mirarlo ━ . No se si quieres decírmelo, porque no me dices nada y no se nada, solo es mi mente la que trabaja teorías desde que tenemos 12 años ━ susurro agachando la cabeza ━ . Estoy cansada, no se si soy de tu confianza a este punto, o si es importante no contármelo... Solo quiero saber porque no me cuentas, quiero frenar estos pensamientos y solo puedo si me ayudas.

Percy pensó en lo que diría, carraspeo su garganta y sus dedos cosquilleaban por tocar la mano de Lara, para mostrarle que estaba para ella y la quería. ¿Cómo le mostraría lo mucho que la apreciaba? ¿Cómo le diría lo que genuinamente había ocultado de ella y de todos, menos de Grover? Porque Percy era una caja de secretos desde que su padre hizo presencia, desde que se enteró que era el hijo del Dios Poseidón y que tenía una profecía detrás con el peso suficiente para arruinar o salvar el Olimpo y el mundo entero. Era un semidiós, y la chica que era su cable a tierra era Lara, una simple mortal que no podía ver a través de la niebla, y por eso jamás conocería el mundo al que Percy había entrado desde sus 12 años. Era una mierda, una real mierda, ¿pero saben por qué era una mierda más mierda?

━ Odio que me conozcas y seas inteligente ━ bromeó en un intento torpe de sacarse los nervios ━ . Me equivoqué, pensé que podría ocultar esto pero veo que no ━ chasqueo la lengua con frustración pero algo de él estaba ¿aliviado? ━ . Desde que voy al campamento las cosas cambiaron, y yo cambié.

━ Si, ya lo se. ━ Percy sonrió de lado y asintió repetidas veces.

━ Me dieron una responsabilidad, una inesperada, y la estoy cumpliendo como puedo, aunque también luchó contra las consecuencias ━ la miró de reojo, a sus ojos que seguían mirándolo ━ . Mi padre está presente y tengo un labor nuevo, es algo que dudo que muchos entiendan porque no está bien poner tanto peso en los hombros de un niño ━ dijo y rodó los ojos sonriendo burlón, una burla a su propia situación ━ . No puedo decirte mucho, porque deberías verlo y dudo que se pueda, pero estoy bien y te prometo que no es tan grave.

━ ¿Tan grave? Percy, por favor yo... ━ Lara pasó la mano por sus mechones más cortos y los paso atrás de su oreja ━ ¿estás en una mafia o algo así? ━ a Jackson se le escapó una risa bastante fuerza, producto de una impulsividad.

━ Me gustaría decir que si, pero no ━ confesó después de reír ━ . En serio, Lara, no puedo decírtelo así nomas si no lo ves primero, no me creerías.

━ ¿Por qué? Sabes que yo confío en ti, yo te creo hasta en las cosas más ilógicas. ━ Percy surco una sonrisa, sus labios se apretaron bastante. Solo escuchar eso lo hizo sonreír encantado.

━ Como yo en cualquier cosa que me digas ━ la miro, Lara tenía ambas manos en sus rodillas mientras esperaba más respuestas y Percy apoyo una de sus propias manos arriba de las de ella ━ . Te adoro tanto, te adoro como no tienes idea y como ni yo mismo tengo idea.

Bien, Lara parpadeo un par de veces como si fuera un sueño lo que salieron de los labios de Percy.

━ Te lo mostraré, intentaré hacerlo si eso quieres ━ por dentro, Percy tenía un debate sobre eso ━ . Perdón, Lara, perdón por haberte lastimado aunque jamás fue la intención, solo no lo decía por lo loco que era y porque... ━ Percy mismo se interrumpió, cerró su boca y se puso nervioso, se notaba en como sus dedos se movieron inquietos arriba de la mano de ella, y como su pecho subió y bajó con rapidez.

━ ¿Por qué? ¿Percy? ━ él conectó con su mirada, tomó la valentía que tenía cuando se lanzaba a pelear con monstruos inmortales o cuando hasta se mandó a pelear con el mismísimo Dios de la guerra.

━ Por que eres mi luz ━ soltó y Lara abrió sus ojos de más ━ , siempre fuiste un pilar en mi vida y corazón. No se si tendré un gran futuro, pero siempre he pensado que un futuro de solo saber que puedo verte al menos ser feliz o ser la chica asombrosa que eres... Es un gran futuro, porque creo que eres mi futuro si eso es lo que deseas ━ agachó la cabeza, sintiendo las mejillas ponerse calientes ━ . Mi vida dio un giro que no esperaba, y tengo miedo que algún día está nueva vida pueda ponerte mal a ti, aunque una parte de mi desea que conozcas todo... Desde lo más ordinario hasta lo más vergonzoso, es como si tuvieras ganas de desnudar mi alma, mis sentimientos y mi vida entera ante ti ━ río más avergonzado pero se cortó cuando la mano de Lara se corrió de la suya para entrelazar sus dedos ━ . ¿Lara? ━ alzó la vista para encontrar como ella brillaba de solo escucharlo.

━ ¿Soy yo o...? ━ ella sonrió cuando él asintió e imitó la sonrisa.

━ Estoy perdido por ti, Lara ━ tomó saliva y trago, con un peso en su corazón que lo mantenía hace tiempo muy pensativo.

Si él jamás lo decía, si él nunca proclamaba su amor ¿qué pasaría? Era consciente que podía morir cuando iba a las misiones, peleaba con malditos monstruos y un fucking Titán amenazaba con arruinar la vida que conocemos. ¿Y si moría sin haberle dicho a Lara su enamoramiento, que venía conteniendo hace más de 1 año?

━ Lara, ahora que lo dije, quiero que entiendas cuanto me importas y...

Lara pocas veces era tan buena hablando, porque muchas veces no podía decir de la manera correcta lo que pensaba. Ella era las acciones y cuando el tacto de su mano contra su nuca lo estiró hacia ella... Por los dioses, Percy Jackson creyó conocer lo que tanto volvía locos a los protagonistas de películas románticas. Porque el beso que Lara le dio, a modo de respuesta, fue más que una simple unión de labios.

Era una ola de mar chocando contra su cuerpo, una vibración en su cuerpo que gritaba de alegría por sentir que esto estaba pasando. Jamás supo cómo se sentiría su primer beso, no era algo que pensaba, pero si llegaba a imaginarlo no era nada cercano a lo que genuinamente se sentía besar a la chica que le gustaba, que lo tenía perdido en emociones fuertes y en felicidad constante.

¿Era absurdo pensar en lo mucho que quería a Lara siendo un simple muchacho? ¿Acaso era demasiado joven para usar la palabra que empezaba con A o pensar en el verdadero amor? Percy no lo sabía, solo sabía que le gustaba Lara y cuando se confesó quería que ella se sintiera halagada, encantada, apreciada por él porque en serio lo hacía. Todo era real.

━ ¿Eso nos vuelve novio como en las películas? ━ bromeó Percy al separarse, aun apreciando las caricias de Lara en su nuca y su aliento chocar con el suyo.

━ No lo se, ¿que ocultas, Jackson? ━ fue en un tono burlón, uno que le trajo a la realidad a Percy.

━ Bueno, te podría decir un pequeño spoiler, para que te des una idea... ━ ella se enderezó, sin dejar de sentir su nuca en su mano ━ ¿qué te parece ser la Mary Jane de un Spider-Man?

━ ¿Que? ━ dicho eso, Lara rompió en carcajadas sin entender mientras Percy apreciaba ver la felicidad de esa chica que solo no vio contenta por 2 días.

Sin querer, Percy se había vuelto el Peter Parker de Lara y ella era su MJ. Porque creeme que Lara nunca había entendido lo que tenía ocupado a su vecino, hasta que se dio cuenta que Perseo Jackson era una especie de Harry Potter griego y había un maldito mundo oculto detrás de esto.

Pero cómo una vez la Madre Teresa de Calcuta dijo “Para que el amor sea verdadero, nos debe costar. Nos debe doler. Nos debe vaciar de nosotros mismos.” y créanme que Percy Jackson lo entendió, tanto que hasta ardió en su piel y corazón.

Porque la amada Lara que acompañamos en un incertidumbre no era la Mary Jane de Peter, era la Gwen Stacy que se despidió de su amado cuando menos se lo esperaba. Y Percy sintió el mundo caer cuando el mundo divino cobró en su contra.

Porque nada dolía más que llevarle rosas blancas al sueño eterno de tu perdición, tu amada y tu gran primer amor.

Descansa para siempre, Lara. Percy nunca dejará que tu nombre muera olvidado…

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

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[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Marathel).

pairing: din djarin x plus-size fem!O/C     

word count: 11K 

chapter summary: Marathel releases her rage. 

warnings:  murder, violence, violence to infants and children, suicide ideation, suicide attempt, object rape, description of dead bodies, blood, brain injury, angst, heartbreak, mention of mental breakdowns, mental illness, English cursing    

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. *** 

          

You Were Marked: Masterlist     

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Marathel looked up for a long time after she could no longer see the Crest, straining her eyes to find its lights against the darkness of the night sky.  By her figuring, it was after the mid-night and was well on the way to dawn.  She stood, left the gorugelly grove, and began walking back to her hut.   

Marathel could hear the yip-yehs  of the Dahls deep in the grasslands.  The Dahls were very active tonight, which she thought was unusual.  It was not the between season, so the Dahls would not be mating, but she could feel a deep undercurrent of excitement among the animals.  They were … preparing for something, but Marathel knew not what it was.  She supposed it didn’t matter, as she no longer had her close bond with Rodanthe.  Marathel was pleased to learn that she had still this smallest of connections with the Dahls at all, and she hoped that they would be willing to keep her company in her remaining seasons. 

Din did not want me to be alone in the wilderness.  He would be glad to know I still have the Dahls in some way. 

Wouldn’t he? 

Marathel wasn’t so sure, and the resulting sadness made her heart hurt.  Perhaps the heartache would come to hurt her less as time went on, and Din and Grogu would be only a happy memory.  Perhaps her guilt for hurting Din — and Grogu — as deeply as she had would be alleviated with time as well.  Perhaps she would eventually be able to forgive herself for inflicting so much pain upon the two people she loved most. 

And perhaps I can flap my arms and fly to the moon to have tea with the Luad Dycwingen! 

With a heavy sigh, Marathel turned past the rock outcrop, the very place where the armored Bounty Hunter had stood as she flung a rock at his helmet.  She stepped in the very footprints his boots had left as they had walked back and forth together from her hut to wherever they had gone, those few days they had together.  Perhaps Din had left something behind in her hut, a token that she could treasure.  Marathel thought about that adornment she’d seen on Din’s wrist.  She was certain he didn’t have it while they were together here on Unmanarall. He must have procured it when he and Grogu had gone off somewhere while she was on Tatooine, or perhaps with the Reconstructionists. The idea that Din had a memento of her both hurt and cheered her heart.  It was made of a fine yarn, the same colors he’d seen her use, the very colors she’d used to knit the cord for the little clam shell Grogu had given her.  I left it hanging on my loom, thought Marathel.  I’ll find that clam shell pendant and wear it the rest of my days. 

Marathel began to move faster, impatient to get to her hut and to the clam shell.  Under the starlit sky, she could see the outline of the flat roof, but … something was wrong.  There was a smell, a smell she knew well, but it took her a moment to catch it in her addled mind.   

Metallic.  Flat.  A smell she’d known her whole life. 

Blood. 

A lot of blood. 

Marathel stopped in her tracks, panicking.  Why would her hut smell so strongly of blood?  As she began to creep closer, the rotting smell came up from underneath, the smell of decaying flesh; another smell she knew too well.  A gorge rose in her throat, but she kept moving closer.  Now she could hear the buzzing flies, and she knew without a doubt that the rotting flesh smell didn’t belong to any animal, but was the flesh of a person, a woman. 

Marathel dropped her bag where she stood and began to cry.  She didn’t know who was dead in her hut, but she knew that she was the reason a dead woman was there. It was her fault.   

It was still too dark for Marathel to fully see; it was some time before sunrise.  Marathel moved carefully along the side of her hut, her feet quietly splashing in the little stream, not feeling the cold of the water or the sharpness of the pebbles on her soles.  She climbed up to the platform by her “leaning post”, feeling her way along the counter, reaching up for her glowworm lantern.  Taking it down from its hook, she felt along the top shelf, finding her firelighters.  She took these as well, and carefully stepped down from the platform back to the ground.  She reached under the platform, finding a torch.    

Marathel carried all these back to the front of the hut, certain now that a dead woman had been placed in her hut as a message to her.  What if I’d never come back, she wondered, although she knew that it wouldn’t have mattered … the message was not just for her, but for all the women.  See what happens when you disobey, you stupid whore cunts.   

With trembling hands, Marathel sparked a firelighter and touched the flame to the torch, carefully turning it in her hand to make the torch catch fully with the strongest flame.  She took a deep breath and raised her eyes and the torch.  It was not just a woman, but four.  Four women.  Specifically, the four women who took her and the marchwyl from the Hold and into the hands of Din Djarin. 

Hanging from a roof support were the naked bodies of Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, and … Hylma.  Hylma?  No, why Hylma?  All four were swollen with decay, their skin sloughing off due to expansion of body gasses and gravity, for they must have been killed and placed here directly after helping Marathel escape, some… nineteen days ago.  Their eyes had been cut out, along with their tongues.  Their throats were sliced, their bodies slit from their neck wounds to their pubic bones, and their intestines hung in bloated ropes down to the wooden floor, the floor where she and Grogu had played, where she and Din had sat and chatted, where he’d pinned her naked body down, where she’d stood in fear, wielding a  sharpened stick against a man made of metal, a man with a warm voice and a sweet child in his bag.  Each woman had a makeshift wooden Dilimgau shoved inside her vagina.  Each woman was missing her hands, punishment for the thieves that they were. 

Olba ap Captain had been her mam in all ways that mattered.  Olba was her deliverer at birth, her wet nurse, her protector, the one who believed in her even though little Marathel struggled with so many things … her poor memory, her terrible cycles, her inability to keep her mouth shut when an acerbic retort came to her lips. 

Tymfy ap Hunter had been her friend, taught her games, gave her hugs, and when Marathel would have her cycle and the cramps were too much for Marathel to even stand up, Tymfy would rub her back and take on her chores, always smiling for poor confused Marathel. 

Lorica ap Bishop was the best distance spitter in the kitchen, and she could hit a fly on a windowsill from across the room.  Lorica had a deep, booming voice, and taught Marathel all the tricks for baking the best bread… along with all sorts of tricks for surviving the things the Bishop did to her, like how to position her body at different times, when to clench certain muscles, how to open her throat so she wouldn’t choke. And how to spit for distance. 

Hylma ap Duke was the one surprise in the group of women before her.  Marathel only knew her because Hylma had been the last infant that she’d helped to deliver before she left the Hold, leaping forward to catch the infant with her hands as she fell from her mother.  She’d been the most beautiful baby, with a perfect round face and loud, strong, lusty cries.  Even though Marathel knew the babe could not focus her eyes yet, the two females had gazed at each other with knowing.  Even as the tiny girl-baby had entered this horrible, tortuous, hell-ridden bestiary of a Hold, Marathel could see the infant knew that they were both condemned to death at the hands of the men that had brought them to life. 

Marathel dropped to her knees, threw her head back, and howled. 

She howled loud enough that it was heard in the Hold courtyard, where Whyns and girls who had been brutalized the night before the Round Building were limping back to the low building to have their wounds tended to, where they could weep quietly: that is, the ones who were still able to weep, the ones who hadn’t learned be still yet. 

Her howl could also be heard, very faintly, in the Hold kitchen, where Diwhyns were already awake to begin the day’s baking.  

The Dahls heard Marathel’s howl as well, and they began to gather in large groups to wait. It begins soon. 

Rodanthe, alone, in pain, and near death, whimpered to herself.  Silver kit?  Here?  

Marathel’s howl weakened as she ran out of breath, and she quickly drew in air with a gasp, and wept.  All my fault.  All my fault. Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, Hylma … I am so sorry!  Olba, Olba, why did you drag Hylma into this?  She didn’t even know me!  Oh, better you had just let me die in there, instead of suffering as well!  I never deserved this much sacrifice from any of you!  Marathel remained on her knees, holding her ribs tightly as she wailed.  She knew this would happen; she knew it as sure as she knew her life had ended when she awoke from her Dahl-daze with Din pinning her with his body against the post.  She rocked back and forth as she thought this can’t go on, this can’t go on over and over. 

Planting both of her trembling hands firmly on the ground, Marathel lifted her head to look at the four women who delivered her from death.   And the rage, dormant since her birth into this hell, began to grow.  

But first, Marathel had to do right by the four women who hung before her, who died to save her miserable and unworthy life.  Stepping up into the hut and through the enormous blood puddle, she pulled a bench over from the table, and cut down each body, apologizing to each one for being unable to catch them before they fell ignominiously to the floor in crumpled heaps.  She ripped down the brown fabric panels that had concealed the Bounty Hunter, the ones that matched the clothing he wore -- despite not knowing that a person such as him existed before he appeared in this yard twenty-seven days ago.  Marathel carefully wrapped each woman in a panel, begging for their forgiveness with the only song.  She tied each panel tightly with the traveling knots that she had learned as a child, singing the words that begged the Mothers that Went Before to accept these four women among them. 

Gwd’wch myrched datoch chi’ir  Gwd’wch wm’uno chi’ir tol  Gwd’wch awyr’a iffwnt gw’lo  Shwd’ay ni geld a shwd’ay ni llonyddwch. 

Let these women come to you  Let them join you in the sky  Let them watch us just as you did  Keep us safe and keep us still. 

Marathel sang this verse of the only song over and over as she picked every flower she could find in her yard, building a bower over each wrapped body on the floor of her hut.  Her bare feet tracked the still tacky blood – there seemed to have been much rain recently, and the air was thick with damp -- back and forth over all the wood. 

Blood, always blood everywhere.  Blood over all the floors, over all the bedding, drying in sticky drips on torn and battered skin.  I have lost so much blood in my life.  I have cleaned so much blood, enough to refill my body ten times over, a hundred times over.  I never want to clean blood again. 

And that was all well and good, but just wanting to not clean blood anymore wasn’t enough for Marathel.  She had worked in the kitchen, in the laundry, cleaning everywhere in the Hold, and sometimes just cleaning wasn’t good enough.  Sometimes, it was better to burn instead of clean.   

Firming her resolve, she found the clam shell pendant she’d left on her loom, and put it around her neck, remembering what the Bounty Hunter had said when they had all cwmigduhwrtch on his chair in the cockpit, watching the Purgills – I will die with my clan in my arms.   

Din ... Grogu ... If I die, I will die with your memory close to my heart. 

Mothers that Went Before, please keep room for me. 

Marathel went to her kitchen and found the best knife she had.  It was still dark, and the torch was growing dim lying on the rocky ground.  She picked up the glow lantern and shook it before she sat on the steps and sharpened the knife, singing: 

Chorgy, chorgy, lla’fern hewern  Gyllon dioggwll ac yn fayn  Chorgern lla’fern di’rugar  Na ng’wyddyr hyr synt i mi. 

Sharpen, sharpen this blade  That it may slice and cut so fine  Sharper blades are much safer  Cut not my flesh but what needs cutting. 

Again, she sang the simple verse over and over as she sharpened the nicked, old blade to the point that it shaved the transparent hairs on her arm clean off.  Marathel stood and took a deep breath.  Frith, give me strength.  She turned to look back into the hut once more, where she played with a little green child, baked bread for the little child’s father, and took that man within her body to please both herself and him.  Marathel broke the lantern open over the flower garden, allowing the glowworms within their freedom.  Leaving her bag behind on the ground, she picked up the torch and tossed it on the steps of the old shepherd’s hut, her erstwhile home, so that it would burn to ashes, just as her heart and soul had been burned to ashes by the injustices dealt to her by the men in the Hold.  Not just the men.  Everything male in that Hold, once they can walk and talk, they have abused me.  They hurt me.  They tortured me.  They raped me.  They didn’t fuck me, they raped me.  And then they punished me for receiving some tenderness from a man, the kind of touch I didn’t know existed.  They took my body and defiled it and ripped it apart and showed me all my blood. 

It’s time for them to see their own blood for once. 

Marathel turned her back on the hut and began walking the familiar path back to the Hold gate, not looking behind her, not wanting to watch as the place where she finally experienced true happiness – and love – was destroyed.  If she had, she would have seen that the wood had been too soaked by the recent rains to catch aflame, and the torch went out. 

As Marathel walked the path she had walked so many times before, gripping the knife handle in one hand and clutching the tiny clam shell in the other, new words to the only song caught in her head, and she quietly sang: 

Diwhyn fen’wyh, Belwyn fen’wyh  Ond’hynw llawer mwyna’ yrar   Gall’dwych felweld wne’byddar  Wne’ued fydd rwydd dhau’r! 

I am only a woman, I am only a whore  But I can do much more than that  You will see what I can do  When I finally release my rage! 

By the time Marathel had made it to the switchbacks, she was running.  Despite her size, she was a good runner; all the women were.  So much had to get done within the hours of the day that they were allowed to not be of service to the men.  The cooking, the cleaning, the gathering, the gardening, checking the snares, caring for the children ... all these things had to be accomplished while still be at the beck and call of whatever male suddenly desired some attention.  Frith forfend if a Whyn kept a male waiting!  That would mean an extra smack in the mouth, or a lock of hair pulled out, or a foot stomped on.   

Marathel jumped up the last two steps to the landing outside the Hold gate and leapt on the stone wall just to the left of the wooden gate.  Her muscle memory served her well; she remembered where the hand- and footholds were, worn into the stone by many a female over time, and she scrambled silently over the wall.  She’d been caught outside this closed gate many times.  Why the gate needed to remain closed and locked had always been a mystery to her – it wasn’t as if anyone else came to that gate, ever, but the Elders demanded it be closed and locked, so it was.  Marathel jumped down to the ground, landing in the soft spot of dirt next to the vegetable garden. The soft spot was always kept that way, always freshly tilled and free of rocks or sticks that could injure a bare foot.  The females had to look out for each other.  Frith knew no one else did.  Not even Frith.  

Open the gate. 

Marathel froze at the unbidden thought. Why in Frith would she need to open the gate?  But then a practical thought came to her: she may not be able to escape over the wall as she had come in. That’s wise thinking, old girl, work smarter, not harder.  Marathel undid the old wooden lock and pulled the gate open enough to squeeze through.  She hadn’t exactly planned beyond getting into the Round Building; she was mildly pleased that at least some part of her shattered brain was thinking ahead. 

Marathel walked through the old garden. Nothing had changed.  The garden was the same size, the same layout.  The same amount of space was allotted for each variety of onion, leek, and parsnip.  One season Cennil created a new leek soup that was so delicious that they wanted to expand the official leek area.  The men didn’t eat leeks, and it was so delightful to have something new for once, something that was only for the women, and brought them joy instead of pain!  But the only way to expand the leeks was to encroach on the sweet peppers, which would have been unthinkable, for the men did eat the peppers; those males would eat them by the bushel if possible!  Especially when stuffed with minced cwagylan meat!  The women could eat them too, but they had to share the peppers amongst them, with bluegrain taking half the amount of the meat mince.  The men got to eat all they wanted; they never had to share.   Not even as babies!   

The newborn mothers often got milk-fever, so community nursing was necessary. The boys got to nurse exclusively on their own Bryndwhyn, a nursing cunt, women who served as wet nurses for the babies born in the Hold.  And boys got to self-wean, and not drop the tit until they wanted to.  Many of the Cyilloggs would come into the area of the kitchen meant for nursing, they would grab their Bryndwhyn and fuck them in front of everyone else, just standing right there.  And they sucked on the Bryndwhyn’s nipple as they plowed her. 

Girls were often weaned early.  There were fewer wet nurses for the girls, and there just wasn’t enough to go around.  Some Whyns produced more milk than others, so the unguent — the one that Din hated so much — was rubbed into their backs to keep their milk up. The unguent worked on Diwhyns as well to keep their milk flowing long after they couldn’t have babies anymore.  In desperate times when the harvest was poor, some Whyns who had yet to catch pregnant would have the smelly unguent rubbed into their backs until their milk came in.  Thankfully, wet nurses were allowed to feed across families … an ap Captain Bryndwhyn could certainly nurse an ap Hunter child, for example.  Fed was best, as the Diwhyns would say, and the hungry babies always kept coming. 

That was information that particularly interested Eliadu, the Reconstructionist who rebuilt Marathel’s brain.  Very curious, thought Marathel.  Eliadu asked so many questions about that.    

Suddenly, Marathel realized that she had been staring at the leeks for quite some time, and there was a pale light in the sky.  Dawn would come soon.  The Whyns should have all left the building by now.  All the men should be asleep after fucking themselves stupid earlier.  I went still; did I go still because I became distracted by a leek?  Am I subconsciously trying to make myself stop what I’m about to do? Or am I so brain-damaged now that my mind skips time? 

Stop thinking, you’re too stupid to think anymore, whore cunt.  Now get moving. 

The yard was deserted.  Marathel looked at the door of the Round Building.  She closed her eyes, thinking of Grogu and Din.  Din, cwyriad, I did not lie to you this time.  I promised you I would not kill myself.  I did not promise that I would not die. 

Rw’yn di’rugar. 

I will die to keep you safe. 

Marathel turned the door handle and opened the door to the Round Building.  As she entered the vestibule her mind began to whirl.  What are you doing, you stupid woman? Did you think you could seek your own revenge, you weak, fat, idiot cunt?  Marathel’s resolve continued to falter as the curtains before her parted, and a blonde Diwhyn carrying a silver-haired Bishop child slipped through.  The child was weeping quietly, and the woman had tears on her cheeks.  The child’s inner thighs were slicked with blood. Marathel knew instantly what had just been done to the little girl, and her anger flared back into life.  The Diwhyn and the girl-child looked at her with fear and recognition.  “You lived,” whispered the Diwhyn.  “But the metal man took you away.” 

“Yes.  But I had to come back.”  The Diwhyn, an ap Duke, frowned at her in confusion.  “Branded?” whispered Marathel.   

The Diwhyn nodded.  “He took her, too,” whispered the Diwhyn. “Even though her cycles aren’t regular yet.” 

He took her?  But she’s just a baby!   Marathel’s rage grew tenfold, and she felt her mind snap.   She kissed the girl on her cheek, then asked the Diwhyn, “Second floor?”  The Diwhyn nodded again. “Go. Hide. Rwy’n di’rugar.”  They left. 

Marathel grabbed a torch from its holder and used it to part the heavy curtains, setting the corded fringe on fire.  That hadn’t been her intention, but that didn’t matter.  She was here to clean.  And if it was better to clean by burning, then … that’s how it would be. 

She jogged silently towards the stairs, passing by the smooth curved metal wall that she had passed by her entire life, the one with the painted squiggles on them.  Normally she ignored these markings but this time, they caught her eye, because she recognized two of the squiggles.  They’re not squiggles, Marathel thought.  Those are … letters!  Letters in that language she’d seen on holopad screens and drawn by Cobb Vanth on a scrap of — paper, that’s what it was!  I know two of those letters!  Because they’re in my NAME!   

She couldn’t read the whole thing, of course, but she could tell that the largest set of squiggles were L-E-something-E-L!  What did that mean? But before Marathel could think further on this surprising event, she heard a low voice behind her, “What the fuck are you doing in here, cunt?”  Marathel whirled around, and the Hunter Brwddyr grabbed her torch-bearing hand.  His eyes grew wide with recognition.  “It’s you …” he muttered, and Marathel knew him too; she didn’t know his name, but it didn’t matter, because he was one of the faces that hovered above hers as she was raped over and over on the Platform.  This one slashed at my thighs with a knife, and he pissed in my face!  With a grunt, Marathel drove her knife under his ribs, and then pulled it out and stabbed him in his chest, where she hoped his heart would be.  His expression grew even more perplexed as he realized what she had done to him, a man.  Marathel spit in his face, and then pushed him away from her as hard as she could.  He fell to the floor, unmoving.   

Marathel held her breath, watching to see if he would move again.  He did not.  I did it.  I killed him.  I’m now a … murderer.  This did not dismay her as she thought it might.  In fact, the thought would Din love me more, or less, if he knew? crossed her mind as she turned to run up the stairs. On her way up, she ran into two Bishop Cyilloggs.  Marathel brandished her torch at them, but they laughed at her. Furious, Marathel shoved her torch into the left-hand boy’s face, and his laughter turned to screams. She slashed at the other boy with her knife, lacerating his cheek deeply.  She shoved the two howling boys down the stairs behind her.   

Little shits!  Got in my way! 

Unfortunately, between the fire she started a and the screams of the boys, more men began to appear.  She ran up to the second floor, managing to scare away or injure most of the men who attempted to get near her, setting more curtains on fire as she went.  The curtains and tapestries were old and dusty — there were always too many other things to clean — and they went up like flash paper, spreading to the dry wood structure.  She lost her knife when she drove it into the collarbone of a Captain Brwddyr who got too close to her.  He had a short spear and had managed to stab her a couple of times with it, but not deep enough to matter.  Marathel almost laughed; the stupid males all had weapons, but few knew how to use them.  She snatched the spear away from him and swung it, cracking it against his ear.  She then ran it through his chest, shutting him up. 

The fire continued to spread, and the screams were becoming louder from downstairs.  The screams of men sounded so delightful to her ears and fueled her rage.  Marathel looked over the railing of the second floor and the first floor was an inferno, but the men were falling back into the building rather than escaping, but she didn’t know or care why.  The stairs below her were aflame and she didn’t think they’d try to come back up; that was foolhardy.  Besides, she still hadn’t found the Elders yet.   

Marathel reached for a door — there were many private rooms on this level besides the large Platform Room — but it opened just as she reached it, and the under-Captain came barreling out, and tackled her to the floor.  “FUCKING BITCH!” He yelled at her, punching her hard enough to fracture her cheekbone.  He called her a few other choice things as he punched her a few more times — Marathel was sure she heard whore cunt in there as well.  He put his hands around her neck and squeezed, grunting, “Where is my hammer, you thieving slut?” 

This one raped me with the handle of that hammer, back and forth from my ass to my cunt.  In between, he would smash another finger.  Marathel spat out another tooth and said, “The marchwyl is where it belongs,” before driving the short spear straight into his temple.  His eyes glazed over, and his face contorted into a silent scream.  She threw him off her, kicking him as hard as she could to propel herself away from him.  She retched a couple of times, and the pain from her fractured cheekbone nearly made her faint.  He lay twitching on the floor, still not dead, but Marathel crawled over and wrenched the spear out of his skull.  The fire was getting much closer now, so she clambered to her feet, and went through the open door.   

All the private rooms were laid out in a circle around the perimeter of the building, connected to each other by smaller doors that had to be ducked through.   Marathel chased whoever was in front of her through the series of smaller rooms.  She threw open the small door in the second-to- last room and was nearly hit in the face by a machete, saved only by the fact that the blade buried itself in the door frame.  Marathel dipped her knees as she entered the last room, holding out the spear in front of her.  She quickly pulled the machete from the doorframe, hoping to use it as well as the spear.    

The fire was spreading on the landing.  There was only one other door in here, and the Hunter and one of his underlings were trying to open it, but the under-Hunter cried out, having burnt his hand on the handle.    The Hunter grabbed his underling and shoved the younger man directly at Marathel, and she slashed at his neck with the machete.  The underling fell to the floor, trying to crawl away.  He probably could survive, she thought, and left him to it, if he could escape the fire.   Instead, she screamed, “Fucking COWARD!” at the Hunter, and ran towards him. 

The Hunter simply said, “Come get me, Belwhyn bitch,” his teeth bared. 

This one whipped me until he got tired.  He would take a rest while someone else took his turn on me, and then he whipped me again. Then he raped me with the handle of the whip and made me hold the whip inside me while I sucked his cock.  Marathel threw down the spear so she could hold the machete laterally in both hands as she charged towards him.    But as she got closer, his brown eyes bore into hers, and she thought of Din’s eyes, brown eyes she was not allowed to see, and she faltered as her broken mind believed she was bearing down on Din Djarin, not the Hunter.  She cried out as her blade imbedded in the Hunter’s neck, and she was doused by arterial spray.  She backed up hurriedly, tripping and falling backwards over the gurgling underling, smacking her head hard enough to see stars.  The Hunter fell to his knees, and his eyes, blank and filled with blood, no longer resembled Din’s, to Marathel’s great relief. She did not wait to watch how he died, but rolled over and grabbed her spear as she stood and staggered through the burning doorway.  

“MARATHEL?  In HERE, Marathel!” 

She whirled around, trying to locate the source of the voice, and then realized that part of her hair was on fire.  Gasping, she grabbed her hair and ran her hands over it repeatedly until the flames were doused, blistering her hands in the process. 

“Mare-ah-thel!  Come in HERE!  I have something for you!” 

The familiar-sounding voice was coming from the Platform Room.  Marathel held out her spear in front of her as she crept closer to the open doorway.  The smoke was getting thicker, choking her, but she had to finish before her lungs gave out.  She entered the Platform Room, shaking, terrified of what she might find.  A Hunter Brwddyr stood near the platform, holding a large knife to the throat of the Captain.  At the Brwddyr’s feet lay the corpse of the Duke.  Before Marathel could quite comprehend that she wouldn’t get to kill the Duke herself, the Brwddyr spoke again.  “Marathel … I killed him for you.  I’ll kill the Captain too.  Just let me escape.  I’ll help you find the Bishop. But you have to let me go.” 

Marathel’s mind splintered again, and she remembered who this Brwddyr was, long ago.  He was a sweet little boy, so much nicer than the rest of the male children.  He didn’t kick at her while she tied his shoes.  He hid morsels of cake and cookies in his pockets to share with her.  He gave her a kiss when he learned how to tie his shoes himself. 

“Talric …” she whispered. 

“Just let me go, Marathel, and I’ll help you get your revenge.” 

“Talric …” she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks, carving paths in the blood covering her face. 

“Marathel,” Talric crooned.  “I knew we did wrong by you.  We never should have let it go that far.  But you need to stop this foolishness!” 

Marathel sobbed, and she felt her rage faltering.  

Talric, thinking that Marathel was relenting, continued.  “I always thought you were better than the others. I cared about you, really, I did!   So much prettier … I hated that you were going to be wasted on the Bishop.  I would have been better for you…” 

Marathel blinked, and her mind, which had waxing nostalgic for the sweet little boy Talric had been, snapped back into the present.  “Better?  Better?  You … you … you raped me up my ass!  Then you helped hold my legs open while the Bishop shoved that Dilimgau inside me!  And you LAUGHED WHILE HE DID IT!” 

Marathel rushed forward, lifting the spear over her shoulder.  In fear, Talric shoved The Captain towards her, so Marathel thrust the spear downwards into his chest.  Talric backed up quickly, horror-stricken, allowing Marathel to address the Captain directly.  “And YOU!  How many times was Olba beaten because she took care of me instead of sucking your measly withered cock!”  Marathel pulled out the spear and she swept his legs with her foot, just like Din had done to her.  The Captain fell to the floor.  Marathel went to her knees and drove the spear three times into his chest as the Captain choked on his own blood.  “MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!  YOUR UNDERLING TRIED TO KILL THE ONLY MAN I WILL EVER LOVE!  YOU KILLED MY OLBA!  YOU KICKED THAT DILIMGAU ONCE IT WAS INSIDE ME!  Die! Die! DIE!”  The Captain gurgled his last breath and fell still.  

Weeping now, Marathel struggled back up to her feet.  She looked up at Talric, who had backed up against the wall, terrified of her wrath.  “You raped me.  You shit on me.  And you let them do the same to me!  How many other women have you brutalized that way?  Why do you think you deserve to live?” 

Talric, trembling, looked back at her, illuminated from behind by the raging fire.  His eyes dropped to the bloodied body of The Captain, then he looked at his knife.  He raised his eyes back to her, and whispered, “I’m sorry,” before he sliced his own throat.  

Marathel watched him twitch as he bled out on the floor, the heat of the fire baking her back and drying her tears before they could fall.  She couldn’t go back.  She could only go forward.  And forward was out the large window before her.  Marathel shoved the shutters open and stepped up on the wide sill.  The tree was still there, but the big branch that she and others used to escape this room when they were children was gone, cut down at some point.  Marathel laughed.  She’d managed to get this far, yet she might die falling out of a tree.  Well, old girl, let’s see if you can still jump as far as you used to.  She tossed the spear down to the ground — she was rather fond of it by now — and kissed the clam shell pendant for luck before she leapt towards the large tree.   

Marathel quickly realized that she could not jump as far as she used to; at least, not without a running start.  She briefly wondered where Grogu was when she needed him as she flailed with her arms and feet, seeking purchase wherever she could as she fell through the tree, scraping her face against the trunk.  She managed to grab a branch with one hand, wrenching her shoulder badly.  It slowed her down enough to get her feet on another branch, but she slipped and fell with full force right on her crotch, straddling the branch. Oh, holy Frith that HURT! Marathel felt nauseated for a few moments, gasping, thinking that men weren’t exactly exaggerating their suffering whenever they were hit in the groin.   

She looked up and saw flames flickering out of the window she’d just escaped through.  She knew she needed to get away from the building.  She still had to find the Bishop.  If she found that he hadn’t escaped the fire, she felt she might just have to go back and find him.  If he had escaped the Hold … one thing at a time, old girl.  Get down first.  As she struggled down from the tree, the sounds of screams amplified in her ears …but it wasn’t just the screams of men, but also the screams of women, panic-stricken.  Marathel lost her grip on the branch she was hanging from and dropped the rest of the way to the ground, landing badly. Grunting, Marathel got up to her feet and picked up her spear, limping around the Round Building to the yard and the commotion therein.  

What in Frith? 

There were Dahls everywhere.  Dahls were running down the men who had escaped the fire and … ripping the men to shreds.  Marathel cried out in disbelief, adding to the screams of the women. Then Marathel watched as a Dahl pulled a woman down to the ground, biting her, and she ran forward to make the animal stop.  Marathel swung her spear at the Dahl before she realized that the Dahl’s intended victim was not the young Whyn but the infant she clutched in her arms.  Marathel screamed, “NOOOO!” as the Dahl snatched the infant’s skull in its large jaws, crushing it.  Marathel continued to scream as she stabbed the Dahl multiple times before it ran away with the dead child.  

The Whyn shrieked and began to flail at Marathel, getting a good hit on her fractured cheekbone.  “YOUR FAULT!  Your fault! They’re killing all the boys!” 

“What?” 

“They killed my baby boy!  All the baby boys!  Because of YOU!”  The Whyn crumpled into a fetal position, wailing. 

Marathel scrabbled away from the Whyn, pulling herself to her feet.  She looked over the carnage and realized that what the Whyn spoke was true:  hundreds of Dahls, biting and mauling everything male that still drew breath within the Hold, and she was the one opened the gate to let them in.  Because they had told her to.  And here they were, running down the little boys who still lived, the men who escaped from the fire, and snatching the babies away from the screaming women. 

A group of Dahls were now slowly approaching her, their heads low, their eyes whirling.  She heard their voices in her head, getting louder and louder, calling out she is here, she has returned, she can finish.  Marathel finally realized the Dahls were the ones who called her back to Unmanarall, not because they loved her, or missed her, but because she was the one who could hear them and could set their plan to destroy all things male in motion.  The men had stolen their eggs, imprisoned them, tried to keep them captive once they had bonded with women.  And then, the men would brutalize the women once they entered the mating cycle along with the Dahls.   

Marathel wanted to fall to the ground and die.  My pets, this is why you brought me back?  Why did you lie to me all that time?  Why did you wait until now to retaliate against the men?  Why did I have to suffer for you to reach your end?  Gladly, I would have opened those gates long before now!  I thought you loved me! 

“They didn’t save you after all, did they, my good girl?” 

Marathel turned to face the Bishop, who had been dragged forward by snapping Dahls.  She gave an inarticulate cry and lurched forward, pushing him to the ground and driving her spear through his shoulder.  “NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!” 

“My sweet girl.  It was all for you…” 

“YOU LIE!” 

“I knew you’d never become a Whyn, my lovely girl.  I’d seen it before.  Never getting regular.  You became full-grown in front of me, and I still couldn’t have you, my perfect girl.  I couldn’t fuck you where I wanted, you never-a-cunt.” 

“Shut UP!” 

“Olba told me about you.  She was desperate to keep you safe.  If you were in the Hold when those … things rose to mate you’d fuck everyone.  And your cunt was MINE.  The Captain wanted you, the Duke wanted you, they ALL wanted you, sniffing around you, sniffing around your beautiful and perfect cunt, but you were MINE.    No one was going to fuck you if I COULDN’T!” 

Marathel wept.  “Then you should have killed me!” 

“My sweet girl … I loved you too much to kill you. I loved my pretty girl too much to make her a Belwhyn!” 

Marathel shrieked, and pulled out the spear, driving it into his chest.  “SHUT UP! You don’t know what love is!” 

And then … The Bishop laughed at her.  “You think you love that criminal?  That bounty hunter who kills for hire?  The Captain and the Duke called for him, using the machinery in the lower level.  The ancient machinery, where the Records are held … to bring your cunt back to them.”  The Bishop coughed up some blood as Marathel stood over him, holding that spear in his chest, bewildered by his words.  “Every Dahl mating season, they sent out that message.  They captured my voice once on a metal device, and they sent it out into the sky, somehow.  I never knew how.”  He coughed again.   “They never stopped wanting to fuck you.  A cunt outside the Hold walls was not allowable, in their minds.  They thought I was weak, for letting you get away.  They tried to bring you back, but you were good at hiding, and then the Dahls started attacking anything male that came near you.  They would kill the Cyilloggs, and soon, no one dared to go after you … Except for that bounty hunter.  What is so special about him that he could get close to you?  What’s so special about his cock that you’d spread yourself for him and not for me?  I waited all that time for you to come back to me!” 

Marathel sobbed.  “Thirty years …” 

“Has it been that long, my lovely girl?  I’ve lost all track of time.  I treated you the best out of all my cunts.  I only wanted you to come back to me, but a barren cunt … is no cunt at all.” 

“You …treated me the best?  I was beaten, constantly!  I have only ever suffered at your hands!” 

The Bishop sneered at her.  “You never did learn obedience.  You were always headstrong, no matter how much we tried to beat that sulky bitch behavior out of you!  Always defiant!  Always defying your FATHER!” 

Marathel pulled out the the spear and held it up with both hands.  “YOU’RE NO FATHER, you SICK PERVERTED FUCK!”  Marathel drove the spear through his open, lying mouth and through the back of his throat.  She pulled out the spear and plunged it into each of his eye sockets, his eyes that always roamed over her body.  Then she began to stab him over and over, all over his old, twisted body, the body she’d had all over hers her entire life, screaming, weeping for the little girl she had been and for the woman she had never been able to be, the life she’d never been allowed to have, the life she’d only been allowed a glimpse of when a stranger answered a call that had been sent through the nothingness of space for years and years. 

The spear handle broke in her hand, stabbing into her palm, and he grabbed at her before she scrambled away, disgusted still by his touch. She sat on the bloody ground and howled, and the Dahls began howling with her as the screams and the roar of the fire continued, drowning out the rattle of the Bishop’s dying breath.   

Finished now, Marathel wearily pushed herself up off the ground, and pulled the broken spear out of the Bishop’s corpse.  The Hold was collapsing in on itself.  Marathel began to limp towards the gate, and then she suddenly flew through the air as the Hold exploded behind her.  Oh, now what? was the only comprehensible thought Marathel had before her body slammed into the stone wall, and she fell to the ground, unconscious. 

In the year 1417 BBY, a small light cruiser left the planet Lew’el to explore the Far Outer Reach System for the purposes of enhancing their standing on the trade routes of the Old Republic. The crew of 132 were led by four men: Admiral Stebor Bishop, Captain Clevan Festa, Lieutenant Thombo “Duke” Wellstan, and Lieutenant Hunter Fin-Marsam.  The official reason of this journey was to mine for assets.  The actual reason was far more nefarious. 

The ship suffered major malfunctions upon entering the new planet’s atmosphere, and while the crew was able to land the ship without loss of life, they were unable to raise a strong enough signal for help, for the equipment had been sabotaged to leave them stranded. 

The displaced Lew’elans still continued with their mission to research the planet’s assets for mining rights and discovered that the planet did indeed have geothermic properties in the case of a heretofore unknown variety of hydrogen gas. This gas, simply called “Mist” by Admiral Bishop, did have similar toxicity to hydrogen sulfide and hydrogen cyanide, but was not fatal to humans except for overexposure. 

The Mist was also exceptionally flammable while in liquid form.   

Still, the Admiral continued the collection of the Mist for storage, thinking that rescue was still imminent.  When it became obvious that the displaced Lew’elans were on their own, the barrels of Mist were buried deep, and the remains of the ship they had come in, a Cordova in a specific round shape, was dismantled and rebuilt into the Round Building of the Hold over the buried barrels of Mist.  The mechanics of the ship were left at the lowest level, just above the Mist storage, covered over, built above, and forgotten about for centuries, until a young ap Captain and a young ap Duke rediscovered the lower levels while exploring where they had been forbidden to go.   

They knew how to read; the boys were allowed to learn to read. They found records, copious records that they were able to decipher —   about the ship, where they had come from, how to repair and use the strange machinery.  They spent the rest of their childhood and their full adult lives — even after becoming The Captain and the Duke — learning the secrets of the lower levels, a space not even the other Elders knew about.   

But the location of the barrels of Mist had not been put in the Record.  The Captain and The Duke did not know about the hundreds of barrels of flammable liquid Mist just below them, and when the wooden structure of the Hold finally collapsed, the fire fell downwards to those levels, finally igniting the hydrogen variant within. 

When Marathel was able to open her eyes again, she could only hear a dull ringing in her ears.  She wondered who had clocked her on both sides of her head this time, and what she had done to deserve it.  Blinking, she tried to roll over and found that her arm didn’t work anymore, belatedly realizing that she was in terrible pain.  She gasped and pushed herself up on her other elbow, but the pain in her shoulder was too great, and she fell back to her back.   

A Dahl came over to her, snuffling at her side.  Marathel remained staring at the sky, still trying to get her eyes to stop crossing.  The Dahl gently pushed her unmoving arm over her chest, and she cried out with pain.  After some time, her ears stopped ringing quite so loudly, and she was able to discern that her shoulder had been dislocated, and her collarbone was likely broken.  Another Dahl limped over to her and pushed her snout under Marathel’s head, trying to push her up into a sitting position.  It took another couple of Dahls and several minutes before Marathel was upright.  She threw her good arm around a Dahl’s neck, and the Dahl helped her to her knees.  Soon, more Dahls had arrived to Marathel’s side, and using them for support, Marathel struggled to her feet.  Near her was a cracked wooden cup, and she picked it up, as well as the remaining piece of her spear.  Why she picked up the cup, she had no idea, but she knew it was important, somehow, so she shoved it into her pocket.  The spear, of course, was now her spear, and therefore, very important indeed. 

The ringing in her ears was fading away, and Marathel felt a little more stable on her feet, so she turned around to see what had happened now. 

The Hold was gone.  The end of the long building was destroyed as well, and the roof of the remaining structure was on fire.  Marathel staggered forward and helped a woman up.  “Is there ... is the long building empty?”  The woman, a Captain, just stared at her.  “Is everyone out of the long building?” 

“This is all your doing,” muttered the woman.  “You’ve killed us all.”   

Another cluster of women and girls approached.  “You did this!” shouted another woman.  “Get out.  GET OUT!  We are dead because of you!”   A young girl picked up a piece of debris and threw it at Marathel, hitting her in the chest.  “GET OUT!  GET OUT!”  

Marathel held out her hand in front of her, crying, “I’m sorry!  I didn’t … I’m sorry …” Other women began to throw things at Marathel, chanting get out at her until Marathel turned and limped away as fast as she could, surrounded by Dahls, the screaming and taunts of the remaining women ringing in her ears. 

The gate had been blown off its hinges.  I guess I didn’t need to open it after all, thought Marathel, confused and dizzy.  Still, she moved through the gate as best she could, surrounded by the Dahls that still remained.  Marathel moved in a straight line out the gate, through the patch of forest, only deviating from her path when a boulder or a tree loomed in her way.  Then she would shift her direction until another object hampered her forward movement.  She did not know where she was going.  She remembered telling someone a long time ago that she intended to walk, just walk, when she returned to Unmanarall, so she continued walking.  I assume I’ll know where I’m going when I get there, thought Marathel.  

As the sun began to rise, the Dahls began to peel off from Marathel one by one.  By now she felt stronger on her feet, and could see better, so she supposed the Dahls figured she didn’t need company anymore.  Their voices faded in her head as they left her, one by one, until they were all gone.   

Marathel kept walking.  

She crossed a rocky path, then a grassy field, and then she saw it.  The low, flat boulder poking up out of the grass, the boulder she had sat on many times, the boulder from a recent dream.  The boulder that sat above the cliff she had thrown herself over once when the Dahls were rising to mate.  Marathel limped over to it, setting down her broken spear.  She pulled the wooden cup out of her pocket — she really liked the pockets on this pair of pants — and carefully set it on the boulder before she sat down, staring out at the edge of the cliff some 30 meters ahead of her. 

For a while, Marathel wasn’t sure how to feel.  She’d killed, with her own damaged hands, some of the men who’d hurt her.  As far as she knew all the men of the Hold were dead.  But the babies!  The babies too!  Marathel began to cry again.  The babies had never hurt her, and the young children were still innocent enough that maybe they could grow up to be better, away from the Hold men and their perverted, cruel ways.  Crying made her head and cheekbone and shoulder hurt, but she could not stop.   

The Dahls called me back.  Why?  How?  Just for me to open a damn gate?  Marathel wondered just how much control over her the Dahls still had, how much they still controlled Din.  The Dahls made me bite him, and he was linked to them through me.  Did Din ever actually love me?  Was it all the Dahls’ influence?   

Marathel’s weeping became louder, more unhinged as her thoughts continued rampaging through her mind.  THIRTY YEARS! Thirty years they have held me!  Kept me a prisoner of them!  They took MY ENTIRE LIFE AWAY FROM ME!  I thought I had escaped the Hold, but then I was held captive by the Dahls!   

Marathel began screaming, ignoring the pain it caused.   

BABIES ARE DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!  LITTLE CHILDREN ARE DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!  I BROUGHT DEATH TO INNOCENT WOMEN!  I DIDN’T KEEP ANYONE SAFE!   

Looking down at her trembling hand, with the twisted and damaged splints, Marathel wished her brain would explode like the Hold did.  Everything she had ever done was wrong.  She had thought that coming back here would keep everyone safe from her, which turned out to be untrue.  The only people she’d managed to keep safe were Din and Grogu. 

And Din could come back.  He never did what she told him to do, ever, and he could easily go off and redeem his Creed and return to her.  He’d promised to not seek revenge on the Hold, but Din had weapons and he enjoyed using them.  He was trained to fight, to maul, to maim, to kill, and Marathel was sure that no fat, stupid, insane woman could hold him back, regardless of how he allegedly felt about her, which was all a lie; it was all the Dahls’ doing! 

Well, if Din Djarin is going to break his promise, then I guess I’ll break mine.   

Marathel scooted herself to the edge of the flat boulder and stood up, wobbling.  She couldn’t hold up her injured arm against her chest anymore, so she ripped her shirt (what’s one more tear?) and slipped her hand into it, creating an ersatz sling.   Marathel took a deep breath and began to slowly walk forward.   

Walk slow, walk slow, and just let yourself fall.  It may hurt, but not for long. Mothers, please, please help me do it right this time.  Forgive me for not keeping the children safe.  Forgive me for the babies that were killed because of me.  Forgive me for being me.  I’m willing to stay in the darkness forever; just let me finish it this time. 

Marathel pulled out the clam shell pendant from her shirt.  She kissed it, then clutched it in her good hand as she walked.  Bounty Hunter, I left you the cup and the spear; you should be able to figure out what I’ve done.  I don’t expect you to ever forgive me; I expect you to hate me for intruding in your life and causing chaos and doing irreparable harm to you.  Love Grogu for me.  Forget you ever knew me.  I’m so sorry. 

This is the way. 

Marathel wiped some tears from her face and continued limping slowly to the edge, when out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of brown and grey — Bounty Hunter? — and she was suddenly tackled to the ground, where she hit the side of her head on a rock, and she was knocked unconscious. 

Marathel woke up a short time later — more or less, she thought.  Her vision was wavy, and her brain felt sleepy.  It didn’t seem she was on the grassy plateau anymore, yet she could feel the grass under her.  Someone was with her, right in front of her, and yet, it seemed someone was sitting some feet away from her.  The images of both were shadowed and somehow not quite solid. Marathel reached out with her hand and touched the familiar bony snout of a Dahl.   “Rodanthe?” 

Where mate and kit? The voice, soft and weak, came from both Rodanthe’s snout and the someone who sat some ways away. 

“What?  Who?” 

Mate and kit.  Where are they? 

“Gone, Rodanthe, I told them to leave me here.” 

No, no, no, my love … mate and kit tied to you. Mate and kit can’t be gone.  Tied to you.  

“Tied?  You mean … bonded?” 

Mate for life.  Good mate for life.  Kit is yours.  You raise good kits. 

“No … not that way!” 

Why sad, my love? 

“Because that means he doesn’t love me, not really …” 

Good mate, tied to you. 

“Not if you’re the reason why!  He must … love me from his own heart, not because of your commands!  He knows that the bite controls him!  I can’t … I can’t accept that.  I won’t have it.” 

Mate loves you.  Strong tie … 

“Untie him, then!  If he truly cares for me, then ... he will love me without being bound to me.  If not, then … I’d rather lose him forever.” 

But kit needs Mama. 

“Kit will ... kit will be fine without me. And Din must not be controlled by anyone, least of all me.  I’ve been controlled my whole life.  I cannot let the ones I love live as I have.  I’d rather lose them both forever.” 

But mate needs you. 

“Let them go, Rodanthe!  If you ever loved me, then you’ll untie them from me!  Let them go!” 

Marathel felt a ripple of cold that went through her soul, stopping her heart for a moment, and then … she felt more alone than she ever had in her life, and she knew that Din and Grogu were now untethered to her. Her loneliness threatened to consume her, and she wept. 

I did love you, silver kit of mine.  But I was selfish.  I wanted you to be only mine.  I kept you safe.  We kept you safe from the men that wanted to hurt you.  But we had to wait.   Wait until your mate heard the call.  Wait until your mate came.  He was worthy of you. I was dying soon. He was good choice for mate.  I tied you together.  You, mate, kit.  Easy.  He thought you strong. Good for his mate.  Good for his kit.  Mate made you happy.  Kit made you happy.  

I loved you.  You needed to be safe. But you fight.  You against keeping you safe.  You keep own mind.  Still, you do this.  You won’t let us keep you safe.  Long time, we fight with you to keep you safe and wait for good mate to come.  You fight mate, too.  That’s why mate must be tied to you.   

I loved you.  You don’t let you be loved.  Let Dahl love you.  Let mate love you.  

Mate and kit untied, my love … 

Marathel cried out as she felt the life of Rodanthe slip away. The Dahl’s death barely caused her any pain, a mere whimper in comparison to the agony she felt when Rodanthe unbound herself from her heart. Thirty years the Dahl had been with her.  Keeping her … safe. 

Thirty years.   

Perhaps they did protect her from the men of the Hold.  She stole their eggs, but they still protected her.  Rodanthe stayed close, was her companion, her closest ally, bound into her heart and soul and even her body.  The Dahls could force the emotions of a man, and that all the Dahls could trick the woman’s mind into doing her bidding, from however far away they were.  They may have kept her safe but kept her ... emotionally infantile.  This made Marathel laugh, because Cobb Vanth had been right.  She was just a full-grown child.   

So now what?  My last Dahl is dead, and I’m not feeling too good myself. 

With a gurgle, Marathel tried to pull herself away from Rodanthe.  Unsure of even where she was, she reached out with her hand, only succeeding in pulling some pebbles towards her.  Marathel grunted and pushed herself up on her elbow, dragging her legs.  She managed a few inches before a familiar pain gripped her belly in a vice, buckling her in half.  No. No. No no no no no no no no … NOW?!   She clenched her abdominal muscles, and the cramping began, feeling like thin slices were being flayed from her midsection with a dull knife. How long has it been?  She couldn’t remember her last cycle.  Had it been years, a name for a passage of time she hadn’t known before?  It wasn’t even marked on her seasons rope.  She had tried to mark it in some way but had removed the bit of yarn at some point ... perhaps because she’d passed over it too many times.  Perhaps she knew in her heart that she was only a Diwhyn after all. 

Another cramp ripped through her.  The pressure of her cramping abdomen made her head sing in pain.  She clawed at the ground.  The cramp finally released, and she was able to breathe for a moment.  Then the gush came from between her legs, and she felt the blood seep through her clothes and pool beneath her, almost too thick to absorb into the ground.  Then more cramping and tremors and pain down low as clot after clot pushed their way out of her body. 

Marathel whimpered and pulled herself another few inches away from Rodanthe’s dead body.  Blood from her head wounds dripped into her eye and stung.  She was dizzy and nauseated.  She slipped off her elbow and fell on her dislocated shoulder.  A white-hot, searing pain overwhelmed the cramping for a moment, and she began to slip in and out of consciousness as she continued to bleed heavily.   

Time passed.  The sun beat down on her.  Then she shivered in the dark.  The sun came back.  Insects came, attracted to the blood, laying eggs in her head wound.  She was too weak to move herself any further, and she lost all track of time as she forgot whether it had become dark again. Eventually, her addled and concussed brain detected movement near her, and she thought she heard running footsteps. 

Whoever you are, please take pity on me.  Help me die. 

And then, she felt the familiar touch of glove leather on her cheek. 

Din? 

A voice.  “Oh, ma’mwsh ha’laa.” 

Darkness. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[ocyeangf]

our song!

ethan morales x oc!fem fic

warning!: na bora es un personaje original que yo cree, no me molesta escribir usando "y/n" pero para este fic preferí hacerlo así.

na bora no era alguien muy relevante en su escuela; pasaba sus días rodeada de hojas de estudio y de su música favorita.

ella era solo la chica coreana que era muy aplicada, pero nunca lo suficiente. sus otras dos amigas: devi y fabiola, eran mucho más inteligentes que ella, a quien todavía le costaba hablar inglés. en cambio, eleanor y aneesa, no eran alumnas tan aplicadas como ella pero tampoco eran tontas.

desde que había entrado a la escuela de sherman oaks había echo varios enemigos en el camino, si bien solía mantener un perfil bajo en la escuela su carácter no evitaba ciertas apariciones.

ben gross, era una persona que bora aborrecía: no solo porque (este nuevo año escolar) se había acostado con devi y la había ignorado todo el verano, si no por su ingenio de dar apodos insultantes a las personas, en especial a ella y sus amigas. gracias a que su temperamento no se controlaba cuando ben decía algo fuera de lugar, bora conocía detención tan bien como conocía la palma de su mano.

bora caminaba por el pasillo con su cuaderno y sus partituras en mano, le gustaba mucho tocar el piano y siempre inventaba nuevos sonidos para tocarle a su hermanita menor. el hombro de su enemigo, ben gross, chocó con el de ella y todas sus hojas cayeron al suelo.

"dios! mira por donde caminas" se agacho a recoger cada partitura y se dio cuenta de que ben seguía de pie, mirándola, más bien mirando las partituras. "qué miras?!" le gritó. tal vez fue un poco fuerte porque todos los ojos adolescentes volaron a esa escena.

se levanto del suelo y le devolvió a ben el choque de hombros. camino a paso apresurado y se fue a su próxima clase.

cuando entro a la clase de español, tomó su asiento tras eleanor, e ignoro a la profesora cuando esta empezó a hablar en español. apenas entendía el inglés y ahora le hablaban en español, lo peor era que esta era una clase obligatoria.

"devi, ¿vas a poder llevarme a mi casa hoy? ya no quiero caminar" desde que, según devi, la nueva novia de ben había escrito perra estupida en su auto ella se había negado a subirla a su auto; y que su madre la viera llegar en ese horror a casa porque sabía lo exigente que podía llegar a ser. pero se había hartado de caminar a casa, y ayer la habían perseguido tres perros que parecían tener rabia.

por el alta voz se escuchó la voz de la directora llamar a margot. "supongo que eso es un si?"

"supones bien, bora" devi le sonrió. "esa maldita tendrá su merecido, después de que-"

"shh" eleanor la mando a callar cuando su nuevo amor adolescente entro por la puerta y fue a sentarse detrás de devi. ethan morales, un chico malo al que su amiga le había echado el ojo luego de rechazar a trent.

"lindo moretón, ethan"

ella y devi se miraron confundidas. bora nunca había coqueteado con alguien en su vida, pero leía muchos libros, y nunca leyó un coqueteo como ese. jamás.

"hm, ¿gracias?. me caí"

"ethan" la profesora los interrumpió "quieres pasar a escribir tus mascotas en la pizarra?" otra vez, bora se quedó procesando que había dicho la mujer.

"no, gracias"

"solo pasa a la pizarra" dijo esta vez en inglés.

bora lo siguió con la mirada cuando se levantó, y tocó el hombro de eleanor para que esta se voltee. "no entiendo que le vez. tiene tanta profundidad como una roca"

"eso no es cierto. el es un chico profundo" volvió su vista a la pizarra, "mira, el chico tiene tortugas"

en la pizarra estaba la palabra tortugas escrita en español, junto a otras dos palabras que no entendió. pero se dio cuenta de un detalle, las letras T eran iguales a las T del acto de vandalismo de devi, parecía que ella también se dio cuenta.

cuando ethan volvió a sentarse y devi le pregunto si había grafiteado su auto el dijo "oh, ese era tu auto? creí que era el de la señora Díaz; me puso una F. perra estupida"

bora lo miro con odio mientras la profesora lo regañaba. ese mal intento de chico malo era el principal causante de que fuera perseguido por tres perros ayer mientras iba a su casa. solo esperaba que devi encontrara a alguien que limpiara su auto.

justo cuando abrió su casillero, devi apareció detrás de ella con una mirada triste "¿qué?"

"bora… no enloquezcas pero, no voy a poder llevarte a tu casa porque ahora no se quien va a limpiar mi auto y-"

bora dejo de escuchar lo que devi le decía cuando vio a un ethan muy tranquilo riendo al final del pasillo. devi le había enseñado un ejercicio para calmar su temperamento, dijo que era una recomendación de su terapeuta, pero ahora romperle a ethan la cara a golpes y usar sus técnicas de karate para eso le parecía la solución.

cerró su casillero con fuerza y caminó con odio hacia el chico y sus amigos, con devi pisándole los talones.

le saco a ethan la patineta donde apoyaba su pie, y este casi cayó al suelo. "hey. ¿que mierda te pasa?"

"me voy a quedar con esta cosa hasta que arregles el desastre que hiciste en el auto de devi, punk mal nacido" le dijo con una mirada poco amigable.

ethan se miró con sus amigos "no me importa, tengo 4 de esas en casa"

"ah si? entonces voy a romperte esta en la cabeza y te haré limpiar ese grafiti con la lengua" le grito muy fuerte que sintió sus cuerdas vocales rogarle que parara. pero no iba a permitirse ser perseguida por perros otra vez.

desvió su mirada de ethan cuando un chico habló "wow, pareces tan loca como bellatrix lestrange" obviamente entendió esa referencia porque se había leído cada libro de harry potter, así que puso su mejor cara de enana desquiciada mientras miraba a aquel chico con odio.

"me suspendieron una semana por casi romper la columna de ben gross, y mi karate solo mejoró desde ese día. ¿acaso quieres ser mi próximo muñeco de prueba?"

él pareció dudarlo porque miró a ethan asustado "eh, no"

"bien dicho. arregla el auto, idiota" sin darle la patineta y bajo una mirada extraña de parte de ethan, se fue con devi siguiéndole los talones.

le sonrió a la abuela de devi después de que ella dijera salía con alguien. se había quedado en casa de su amiga a dormir con tal de no ir caminando a casa.

su celular vibró en su bolsillo trasero. "soy ethan. estoy afuera." un segundo mensaje llego. "espera, tu no eres devi" revoleo los ojos y tomó la patineta junto a la puerta principal para luego salir afuera.

ethan estaba al lado de la camioneta con una bolsa de plástico en las manos. le tiro la patineta cerca de sus pies y vio que tenía una en las manos, no mentía cuando dijo que tenía más.

"no vas a golpearme con esa en la cabeza?" le dio una sonrisa.

"no si arreglas el auto"

"por qué te importa tanto si lo limpio o no?, no es tu auto"

"si, pero devi me llevaba cada día a casa hasta que mi madre vio ese lindo grafiti que hiciste y me dijo que si volvía a subirme a ese auto iba a desheredarme" detuvo sus palabras cuando noto que ethan la miraba demasiado. "entonces… lo vas a limpiar o...?"

"eres un poco ruda, no?"

"puede ser"

"bueno, nunca me habían gritado así antes" su tono de voz se había puesto más grave, eso causó un revoloteo en el estómago de bora por primera vez en su vida.

"si, lo que sea…" trato de ignorarlo pero lo que dijo después solo la puso más nerviosa.

"es sexi"

qué? los ojos de bora se abrieron de la sorpresa. nunca nadie le había dicho esas dos palabras y menos con esa voz tan... tan... ni ella sabía cómo describirlo.

ethan siguió hablando como si nada "si, cuando me estabas gritando y amenizando a mi amigo, pensé: diablos, bora si que es sexi"

lo miro como si le hubieran salido tres cabezas, ignorando sus ojos tan encantadores y sus rulos revoltosos. y salió corriendo a la puerta de devi.

corrió sin mirar en donde pisaba y casi cayó de cara al suelo cuando subió muy rápido los escalones, escuchando la risa de ethan de fondo.

no podía caer ante sus palabras, eleanor era la que se la pasaba hablando de él y su aura misteriosa. ¿por qué le estaba diciendo todo esto?

apoyo su espalda en la puerta rogando porque ethan limpiará el auto y se fuera tan rápido como llegó. pero pego un salto cuando patti le hablo "estas bien chica? estas pálida como un vampiro"

Nalini la examinó de pies a cabeza y volvió salir corriendo, pero esta vez se fue a la habitación de devi.

que mierda iba a hacer ahora?

[gingersnappe-9]

In a Crowd of Thousands: Beskar vs. the Dark Saber (16)

Din Djarin/Mando X Fem!OC || Star Wars/The Mandalorian Universe

Series List || #star wars anastasia || PREVIOUS || NEXT

5.4 K words

Warning: canon violence (lethal weapons use), near death experience(s)

A/N: chapter banner art by @followwhereshegoes​ & myself

The plan was to announce her reunion to Leia and reaffirm their family’s legacy of fighting for the greater good of the galaxy. 

Ava tried convincing herself that it was for the best. No, that it was her rightful place to be by her sister’s side fighting the good fight with the Rebellion and serving as a diplomatic attache to underprivileged reaches of the galaxy. It’s what they talked about at least, but the more Ava experienced it, the stuffier she rediscovered it all was. She recalled how much she disliked wearing dresses that she could potentially trip over and fall on her face in front of some important foreign dignitary – she actually remembered doing that once when she was younger – She had forgotten how most of the individuals in law and diplomacy were decades older than her and never quite appreciated her humor. Ava accidently scandalized a maid when she dropped a book on her toe while practicing her walk – like he did back on the Crest – and swore like a spice runner. 

Try as she might, Ava was just having a far more difficult time fitting in to her birthright. She’d watch the maids flit around and coo about the fine jewelry and dresses she and Leia would be wearing to the event. She had to agree though, the gowns and finery were stunning. The material felt like starlight across Ava’s fingertips. The bright colored gemstones of her necklace were as red as sand stone. A pair of crowns, however, remained in their storage boxes. Leia suggested they hold off on donning their headdresses until they arrived at the venue. 

“They’re gorgeous but I’ve knocked mine off my head getting out of a cruiser or two.” The sisters shared a good laugh. Ava wasn’t sure what being a “someone” should feel like but only deep down in her subconscious did she consider that she really only needed simple things… perhaps a simple person. 

Sooner, rather than later, everyone was dressed and being ushered into sleek, black cruisers. Leia and her secretary or personal assistant immediately began chatting about her schedule and future events. They didn’t seem to need her attention so Ava allowed herself to gaze out the tinted windows and onto the passing by cityscape. The light had already begun to bleed from the sky as dusk settled over Canto Bight. The lights streaked by not unlike the stars at lightspeed, though they paled in comparison.

They arrived at the Starfield Legacy Center far earlier than even the ravenous reporters who were always far more interested in capturing the glitzy regalia or a moment of weakness between a supposedly madly in love couple. Ava and Leia calmly walked through a side entrance with grand capes covering their ensembles with ushers following closely on foot with the crowns, locked away in protective boxes. One of the event coordinators brought them up to a secluded room where they could freshen up and wait in privacy before the speeches and press rounds. Ava sat down quietly on a plush chair tucket into the corner. She fiddled with her opera length gloves to keep herself from messing up her hair or makeup or her dress. She watched as Leia moved through the motions with ease. How her sister handled unexpected questions with ease and firm command. Leia was a natural born leader and Ava adored watching her in her element. If Ava had been left to her own devices, she would’ve shown up with a smear of grease on her cheek, a pair of work coveralls all rumpled and disheveled only to say, “Hi, I’m her. So, yeah that’s it”. 

Lost in thought, Ava didn’t even notice that Leia had approached her with one of the large lock boxes balanced in her arms. She had already placed her silver crown neatly on her head. It resembled a solid halo that sat across the center of her head with five slender peaks jutting out. Alderaanian jewelry was rather simple, but in its simplicity they were always striking. The necklace – small squares of Alderaanian silver linked by delicate jump rings – was a piece that their mother wore often. The necklace must’ve been stored off-world at an embassy for it to have been saved from the destruction of Alderaan.  

“I believe it is time.” 

Ava stood up slowly as Leia rested the box on the nearby side table. When the cover was lifted, the light in the room seemed to shift to a golden hour. The halo-shaped crown was fitted to her scalp with a tapered point resting just below the center of her hairline. Teardrop shaped pearls rested across her forehead. The thin bands that reached out were like rays of the sun with even more pearls inlaid in between. Ava let herself adjust to the weight of it, glad that Leia suggested she hold off wearing it until necessary. There was music beginning to play from the hall, though muffled it signaled the evening was beginning. 

The two of them walked over to a large full-length mirror on the other side of the room. They looked very much like the sun and moon – Ava in her striking gold crown, cream colored dress with a deep green sash; and Leia in her midnight purple gown, silver jewelry, and similar sash made of a maroon satin – Their father used to call them his sun and moon. Leia placed a hand on each of Ava’s shoulders and allowed her cheek to rest on her sister. They stood there taking in the sight of one another. Taking in the other’s presence and the reality that against all odds they were together again. Family. 

Leia squeezed Ava’s shoulders and took a step back. “You look so much like her.” 

“Who?” Ava responded quietly. 

Leia only smiled. “Mama. You have her presence.” 

The younger of the two sisters smiled right back. “You remind me of Papa. You’re always so sure, and just as fair.” 

“You’ve done well, you know,” Leia spoke calmly, “I know none of this has been easy. But you’ve done really well with handling everything that’s come your way.” 

“The journey was interesting to say the least.” Ava quipped. 

The two of them stood silently together for a moment more. But only a moment before Leia took Ava’s hands and helped her slip her gloves on. For some reason, when she focused on the gloves, she thought of Mando and how his gloves slipped on and off his hands. 

Leia half smiled. “But I can't help but wonder if it’s what you really want.” 

Ava pulled her hands back while Leia regally collapsed hers together. “What does that mean?” 

“I just mean… You were born into this world. It was your destiny from birth to wear that crown and carry on the legacy of house Organa as much as it is mine to carry on the Organa and Skywalker legacy,” Her voice never waivered, never accusatory or disappointed, just very truthful, “But I can’t help but feel that it might not be meant for you after all.”

The pair of them stood in the room alone in silence for a moment after Leia finished. Ava had similar thoughts float into her mind but she’d always dismissed them as trivial since everything the Mandalorians had told her was a lie to get her sister’s money. “Whatever happened, happened. I can’t change it and I will not go back to it.” 

Leia gave her a look only older sisters could make. “He must have been special then for you to be digging your heels like a ton-ton.” 

After she had to throw back a lighthearted grimace at being called a ton-ton, Ava didn’t know what to feel. No, she knew exactly how she should feel. It was a lie for money. A cash grab. Nothing more, nothing less. Ava knew Leia could sense her feelings so there was no point delaying the obvious. 

“They did what bounty hunters do. They delivered their quarry and now they’re probably halfway to a new sector by now.” She said with more sorrow than intended. It hurt to put power into her fears. Out of the corner of Ava’s eye, she caught her sister with a somewhat hesitant look. “What?” Leia’s face shifted rather quickly to one with a soft, knowing smile. 

“Aurie, he didn’t take the money. And I can’t imagine their withholding information makes you feel better, but for what it’s worth, they brought you back to me. But this is the life that I have chosen for myself. I supposed, now, it’s your turn to choose.” 

Leia let go of Ava’s hands and began to walk towards the door and didn’t turn back to see if her sister was following until she opened the door. When Leia turned back, she truly looked like their mother. Though Ava knew the two weren’t blood related, it was in the way Leia carried herself. Her poise, the way she tilted her head and said, “Ava, Aurelia, it makes no difference to me. You are mine and Luke’s sister. We will always love you.” And then she calmly walked out into the world Ava was uncertain of reentering. 

It felt as if the world had spun off its axis and was floating farther and farther away from its sun. So Ava decided to go outside and take in some fresh air. 

The gardens were large and expansive – but most importantly empty – on a large earthen terrace that overlooked Canto Bight. From its vantage point, Ava could see the city cresting out towards the bay. The calm waters glittered in the early moonlight. Distant sounds of life were carried in on the wind. Below, each and every person walked their own path. Difficult ones. Easy ones. Some that were hard one day then a breeze the next. What path will I take now? She’d found her family. More than she was expecting, two whole siblings who expressed their unconditional love for her. What was next? 

What indeed?

A foreign voice echoed in her mind and all of a sudden Ava’s body stiffened. She turned around quickly and found the path empty. But something or someone was out there. A new energy swirled in the air. Ava felt like her nerves were on fire as her blood began to pound behind her temples. The energy, the presence, she’d felt it before crawling in the back of her mind. It was cold and filled with a quiet and dangerous rage. 

“I know you.” Her voice wavered as she spoke out into whatever darkness was drawing closer. 

A man appeared. The same stern face and severe eyes. His hands were placed behind his back as he walked with precise steps. In a word, elegant, or more accurately, predatory. His dark eyes stared her down, hungrier than his demeanor gave off.  

“Yes. We’ve met before. In a manner of speaking.” He continued to stalk forward. 

She put her hand out – as if the gesture would protect her – “Who are you?” 

“My name is Moff Gideon, your Highness.” He gave a short nod after her title. 

A chill ran through her spine. “You have me confused with someone else.” No sooner did Ava try to turn around, a powerful feeling wrapped around her mind giving her a splitting headache. It nearly made her drop to her knees. 

“Oh, I’m not confused at all. You are the lost daughter of Senator and Queen Organa,” His voice was cold and seemed to strike with a blunt edge with each word, “Though my plans need a little adjusting you’ll do just fine.” 

She turned around to face the man and slowly backed away with each step he took; but even so, she felt like she was being backed into a corner. “Stop.” 

He kept advancing with a ceaseless gaze. 

“Stop.”  

Her head hurt.

“Stop.” 

Everything seemed wrong and her hands twitched. 

“STOP!” 

Ava thrust both of her palms out towards him and felt a surge of energy release. It was like a pulse, her pulse, magnified outward. It was not unlike what she experienced at the opera with Mando. 

She opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d squeezed them shut. Ava saw Gideon down on one knee, huffing to try and bring air back into his lungs. Ava channeled whatever courage she could muster, and tried to remember Luke’s lessons. But it felt like her memory was failing. A few stints in force sensitivity training did not a Jedi make. 

In her mind she asked for help from the cosmic forces of the universe, the Maker, Luke… Mando… anyone. 

A terrible sound came from his throat. It was strained laughter, or at least some form of it. “Excellent. Most excellent.” Gideon pushed himself up with visible struggle but quickly regained his footing. He moved his cloak to the side and revealed a hilt clipped to his belt, took it in hand, “You do indeed have what I want, Princess” and ignited the blade. 

It was unlike anything Ava had ever seen. It mimicked the way Luke’s lightsaber emitted light, but it was dark. The blade was black with white edges. The energy surrounding the weapon was just as dark. Ava sensed how it wrapped around Moff Gideon’s mind and body, twisting and warping what was already malevolent to begin with. It was consuming him. Alarm bells screamed out in Ava’s mind. Run. 

She took off in an instant without direction or awareness. Ava gathered as much of the dress into her arms as she could, but the weight of the fabric still seemed to slow her down. It didn’t help that she’d lost sight of the building between the impossibly tall greenery. Ava figured her best bet would be to hide where he wouldn’t expect to look or would be least likely to find her. So Ava ducked into a nearby cluster of trees. 

The more she pushed her way through, however, the sleeves and hem of her dress caught and snagged on branches and twigs. It ripped the delicate overlay of her dress and muddied her heels. Finding they only got stuck in the dirt and undergrowth, Ava kicked them off and daringly threw them away in hopes it would possibly fool Gideon into going a different direction. 

It felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest. The more time she spent in suspense, the harder her blood pounded. The greater the ringing in her ears became as the sky grew darker and the shadows became more and more menacing. Her mind felt cloudy. She couldn’t hear anything or anyone. They must’ve been deeper into the garden than she’d realized. Despite her mental haze, Ava gently tried closing her eyes and reaching out to feel for presence. She’d barely touched the surface when something came screaming into her mind. It felt like claws digging into her nerves. Her skin became so cold so quickly it felt as if it were burning. And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but scream out in agony. 

I found you. 

Before she even knew it, a deep reverb echoed in her mind alerting her not a moment too soon before a blade struck out just millimeters above her head. 

Ava scrambled to her feet and ran back out onto the path. Her body still cried out in pain, and her breach into energy opened like a flood gate. Gideon was still gaining on her. She reached out and felt the finely laid stone beneath her feet; she focused on the craggy surface and motioned with her hand as if she were clawing it out from the ground and flung it back with all her strength. A large chunk flew up and back at her pursuer. Ava heard rock crumbling, and when she looked back, saw the slab sliced in two. 

Impossible. 

“No, not impossible, my dear.”

Somehow the lunatic was in her head. He was the clawing in her mind, like a poison slowly creeping into her bloodstream. 

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice felt hoarse and her body was only growing weaker. 

“Why does anyone do anything? Power. Power is the way of the world. It always has been. It brings the greatest change and is the strength of the longest lasting empires. And with the dark saber and you, my goals for the galaxy are well within reach.” 

“You’re forgetting that most power-hungry madmen are spineless cowards who use others to get what they want.” Her voice was horse and growing strained. 

Gideon chuckled with a false humor. It was cruel and mocking. Ava could feel it pulsing behind her eyes and the pain brought her down to her knees as he skulked closer. 

“You’ve just never seen true power before. This,” He brandished the blade up towards her face. So close, Ava could feel the cold energy pulsing off it. “This is what power really is.” 

She’d never seen energy like it before. The blade both emitted light and yet somehow seemed void of it. As such close proximity, she felt it draining her energy even more. Only one sort of thing in the known universe drew in energy like that – a black hole. The dark saber was some sort of contained black hole. It had to have been. It appeared to be the antithesis of a lightsaber which projected the wielder’s energy. The dark saber fed off it. It pulled in the life force of its wielder, even those around it. 

“That thing is killing you.” Something flashed quickly across Gideon’s face. He wasn’t expecting her to say something like that, and Ava caught it. “But you didn’t know that, did you? How could you, you don’t know anything real about power you-” 

He quickly slashed the blade through the air and swiped Ava’s cheek. It burned. It was cold and yet burned hotter than anything she’d ever felt in her life. The pain rendered her speechless as she was knocked to the floor grasping her cheek. 

“I know more about this power than anyone else in the galaxy,” The tip of the blade hovered precariously close to her face, “Pity. You could’ve been something great. But you’re just like all the rest of those feckless fools in the Resistance. You’re just standing in my way.” 

Ava’s world suddenly came to a screeching halt. She’d heard those words before spoken in that very same voice. Out of nowhere she recalled crouching behind a hallway corner, then a hand falling to the floor. It had been her father’s hand. Ava could hear her mothers scream before her body hit the floor with a sickening, and lifeless thud. “It was you…” Her voice caught in her throat, “You killed them.” 

When Ava looked up at Moff Gideon his face was twisted into a mad grin. He relished in her horrifying realization. 

His eyes were wide and wild, “I’ll take what I need. But don’t worry, you’ll be with them soon enough.” Gideon raised the darksaber to dish out what could only be a mortally wounding blow. 

Please… 

A blaster shot rang out, as if from thin air, struck the flat side of the saber blade, ricocheting off into the ground. 

A feeling swept over Ava, it was good and young. Grogu. And where the tiny green creature found himself, another was never far behind. 

Ava turned her head in the direction of the shot and saw a familiar silhouette slip into the shadows. She sensed how he stalked through the dark and cover of the greenery ever closer. His watchful gaze never left hers. Ava could feel in her own muscles the way his pulled and strained against his bones. The strength in his hands as he gripped his blaster artfully. Teeming with energy and an overwhelming urge to seek and destroy. 

Without realizing, Gideon slashed down again.

Ava’s body reacted before she could even think. Her palm extended outward just as the saber came down. The scene around her became perfectly clear in her mind. The stone surface of the pathway through the soft and tearing material of her dress; she became one with the plant cells slowly blooming while others had fallen to the ground and went through the final stages of decomposition. The air molecules surrounding the blade snapped and popped as it moved through the air. And just before the saber made contact with her flesh, it stopped. 

It stopped the same way two magnets of the same polarization repelled one another. The blade held against nothing in midair. The two of them stared at each other with a look of awe but even during that moment, Ava could feel her control slipping. 

Another blaster shot, this one straight to Gideon’s hands, knocking the saber from his grip. The next thing Ava saw was the bulk of Mandalorian armor hurdling out from nowhere and tackling Gideon to the ground. The two men grappled on the ground for the upperhand. They seemed to match each other blow for blow. Though Mando was strong, Ava could sense something in Gideon had been altered by the blade. He fought back like an animal possessed, clawing and punching and the soft points between Mando’s armor. Gideon somehow managed to rip off one of Mando’s thigh plates and used it to completely slap Mando clean across his helm. 

The sound of pure beskar striking beskar was loud for Ava, so it must’ve been somewhat deafening for Mando. The Mandalorian stumbled back and Gideon managed to reach for a blaster hidden on the opposite side of his hip. Ava cried out just as Gideon pulled the trigger, striking Mando in the shoulder, just below his pauldron. She barely registered the distressed sounds coming from Grogu’s pram just a few meters away. He tried to come forward, but Ava intentionally held his little craft back. 

In the moments afterwards, it felt like the shot kept ringing in her ears. 

“There is a reason his kind is all but extinct,” Gideon’s voice was wicked and chilled, “Too noble for their own good.” He took aim again, this time, where the hollow of Mando’s throat would be. She could feel his pain rippling throughout his arm, she felt his racing pulse slow. Mando fought to maintain his composure as his thoughts grew fuzzy till they all disappeared into unconsciousness. 

Ava’s hands twitched again. They needed to hold on to something. They needed to defend. Her mind reached out, and no sooner could Gideon place his finger on the trigger did the dark saber skitter across the ground and fly into Ava’s hand. She surged forward with a speed she didn’t know she had. The blade sliced up through the barrel of the blaster as if it were nothing. The force of her attack was strong enough to knock Gideon back a few paces. 

Something took Ava over. She felt a thrum of electricity coursing through her. She felt like a star about to explode, just teeming with potential power and energy. So she took off. 

Gideon barely had enough time to react. The saber came down hard against the plate. It was beskar versus the dark saber. Blow after blow, Ava continued to swing with every ounce of her strength that she could muster, and the blade responded in kind. She let her anger roll through her like the undercurrent of a torrent river. It was a rage she’d never felt before, or had only become aware of the moment she realized Gideon was the man who slaughtered her parents. Ava slashed and punched and kicked and all he could do was use his small shield against her. The ground beneath them quickly bore the marks of their opposing efforts. Scorches here, slashes there, the concrete and stonework ripped from the ground. Sweat crept down Gideon’s brow, the weapon he once envisioned himself conquering the galaxy with had been turned against him. It drew on his fear. 

He was responsible for her suffering. He was the one who’s greed had led to the deaths of so many innocent lives. He’d nearly killed Mando. He had tried to kidnap and do Maker know what sort of horrible things to little Grogu, and possibly even her. Ava’s hands grew hot from the fury surging through her body. It felt as though her eyes glowed in anger. The dark saber responded, it hummed and sang in her mind to the very same tune of revenge. It craved it as much as she did. Moff Gideon needed to pay for his crimes, and they decided he would. 

With a swift punch backed by the force, Ava swiftly knocked the air clean out of Gideon’s lungs. He lay on his back atop the wreckage they’d both created. Ava hadn’t even realized how far they’d traveled till she caught a glimpse of herself in some sculpture. The polished metal reflected back an image of herself that Ava didn’t recognize. Her dress was torn and mottled with dirt and debris. Her crown was long gone and her hair was coming undone. What startled her most was her eyes. They weren’t brown anymore, they seemed brighter with flashes of red on the outer edge of her iris. She was changing before her eyes. The blade sang out in protest of her stalling. 

Ava paused and looked for a moment at the strange sword. She listened to it with a more careful ear, and what she heard was different from her initial judgment. 

The blade wasn’t inherently evil. It wasn’t anything much at all. Energy was constantly flowing through the crystal within. Raw potential. It called for revenge because she had wished for it in her mind. Standing there and witnessing how quickly hate had made her change frightened Ava. The potential had always been there, but it took the blade to make herself realize how much of her emotions she had been ignoring. It stung. The hilt grew heavy with doubt, and it was in that split second Gideon acted. 

He lunged up from the ground like some feline creature with his teeth bared ready to sink into the soft flesh of its prey. 

His hands wound around her own on the hilt of the dark saber. The two of them grappled with strained muscles. Ava nearly bit into her lip with the amount of effort it took to keep the blade away from Gideon’s effort to drive it into her throat. The man’s eyes were as wild and feral as her own, but Ava felt her anger slipping away. It pained her to look him in the face – the man responsible for her mother and father’s deaths – but a new sensation began to whisper in the back of her mind… 

We will always love you. 

We are with you.

It was Leia. Luke. Her parents. Everyone who cared for her, near and far, alive and gone. Their essences melding together like a balm that soothed her soul. Their love and spirits were with her. They would remain in and all around her. No matter how angry she was, how hurt and betrayed by fate she felt, Ava realized that would never die. It would sustain her, it had thus far. She’d traveled clear across the galaxy for a feeling she did not have a name for… but it was the love for her family, found or otherwise. 

In her hands, she could sense the saber mirroring her conflicting emotions. How it cried out in confusion from her influence as well as Gideon’s. It was the oldest song in the galaxy: one of struggle, light and dark. Only Ava seemed to be listening to it.  

“Why don’t you seem to understand?” He hissed, close enough Ava could feel the heat of his breath against her face, “The only way to exist is to take and maintain order.” 

Ava was close. Even with her limited knowledge of sabers, she felt for the housing unit within the hilt. She could feel the power circuits and the wiring leading to a central unit. All the while, Gideon’s grip had become so fierce he pushed her palm so hard into the hilt they’d begun to bleed against the detailing. His fingernails bore into her skin leaving red crescents dribbling. 

There. 

The image of it came clear in her mind. It was no bigger than her thumb, deep like onyx and vast as a moonless night. 

“For take, there should be give. After death, life should grow,” She planted her feet and dung down deep, “The galaxy will continue forward long after any of us leave this world. Any attempts to out last it are foolish.” 

She bore down on the housing unit. Felt it break and warp under her pressure. Release. Gideon sensed it too. He began to yell and scream in vain. Ava had already cracked in, uncontained energy had begun to spill out. 

“The way of existence is balance.” 

It broke and like a supernova, energy poured outward. The saber sparked and burst, sending out white hot particles. Ava and Gideon were knocked back with scorch marks across their exposed skin. 

Ava landed hard on her back, the wind knocked clean out of her. In her attempts to pull air back into her lungs, she struggled to look around. Gideon lay in a smoldering pool of his black cloak. Unmoving. The crystal lay amongst the debris of the destroyed hilt, calm. She pulled it into the palm of her hand with little effort. It was indeed as black as the void of space, so much so, it seemed her hand had developed a blackhole. Vengeance no longer silently plagued her mind. That part was done and over. It was time for growth. 

Ava whipped her head back to see if Grogu had avoided the flair. The doors of his pram opened with a soft hydraulic hiss and sweet eyes gazed down at her as he floated in her direction. 

“Where’s your dad?” She wheezed. 

Grogu hovered off in a direction and Ava stumbled behind as if she were a babe just learning to walk. When Mando came into view the adrenaline had begun to wear off. From the distance, Ava couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing.

All of her strength gave out leaving her no choice but to crawl the last few feet to Mando. His beskar was scorched and scored from the saber. Bits of his flight suit were singed and the place beneath his right pauldron was soaked in red. Panic seized her heart and muscles. Her once steady hands shook uncontrollably as she lifted the pauldron up and off. The site was black and oozing. Knowing she didn’t have enough strength to see if the shot had gone clean through his shoulder, Ava had to lean her entire upper body weight to apply pressure. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat slow. The bleeding had been prolonged without any intervention and his body was showing the toll. Her entire body shook. She was beaten and aching. Shrapnel had certainly lodged itself in various points of her body, but none of that mattered. Ava reached for whatever energy she had left. 

She felt the dimming hum of Mando’s life. It was slipping away. 

“No,” Tears fell across the motionless helmet, “Not you too.” Her voice was barely there. Desperation and despair thick enough that she practically choked on it. “Please… I need you… I… love… you.” 

Grogu appeared beside her. His small hand reached for the site. Ava wanted to pull his untainted fingers back, no child should have to witness and partake in such misery. But something washed over her. Energy pooled in a different direction the closer Grogu came. 

She rested her hand atop Grogu’s significantly smaller one. Ava allowed herself to follow the gentle current. Beneath her trembling fingers, Ava could feel Mando’s skin shifting. Torn cells joined again. Layers of epidermis repaired itself slowly as the current flowed from hers and Grogu’s hands. Mando’s heartbeat rose. But Ava’s dipped. She was giving so he could take. 

Slowly but surely, with their conjoined effort, the wound was mended. The viscous remnants remained, but the bleeding had stopped. He took a deep breath which meant Ava could finally take one herself. 

By then, there was shouting and disturbance from the crowds above. Ava sent off a brief moment to her sister and to Luke. Whether or not they sensed it, Ava didn’t care. Her eyes were heavy and her body had already slumped across Mando’s chest. The coolness of the beskar soothed the heat from the mark across her cheek. Grogu had already succumbed to his much needed rest. Whoever would find them would be in for a surprise. 

A princess, a bounty hunter, a small child all together. 

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Part Three of the Signs of a Lifetime Series

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC / fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: smut, mild violence, language

A/N: wooooo back on my smut writing bs for this chapter pls enjoy! as usual this is also on AO3 if you’re looking to get alerts for new chapters ~

Chapter Summary:

Mando and Alya meet up again on Nevarro, still trying to work through their feelings for each other and hold back from the magnetic attraction they both feel. Alya struggles with the concept of opening her heart to a relationship, as Mando shows her steadfast care and friendship.

Two days before Mando was supposed to meet her, Alya arrived on Nevarro. She turned in her bounty with Greef Karga, and in return received the credits she was owed, several bounty pucks for her next jobs, and a typically charming conversation with him. Much like every conversation they had, it included him mentioning how she was the most popular and envied bounty hunter in the Guild right now, and as usual she rolled her eyes at him. She had overheard him saying the same exact thing to a number of people over the years. 

Alya took her credits and treated herself to her first hot, fresh meal in a while and decided to stay in the inn next to the cantina for a few days while she was in town. The rooms there were simple with just a bed, chair, nightstand, and small bathroom, but Alya could at least get a good shower in here compared to the one on her ship. While they weren’t anything necessarily luxurious, she also found the beds in the inn much more comfortable than what she was used to sleeping on - maybe it was time for an upgrade, she had thought to herself as she had lounged back on it that evening.

Mando had sent her a comlink message saying he would be delayed by about a day, so it had now been three days since she left him on Tatooine. She tried to avoid the thoughts bouncing in her head that she already missed him, but was frustrated to find that she really was looking forward to being in his presence again. She felt as if these last few days had just been biding her time until she could see him again. Their escapade through the desert had made her realize that his company was a comfort to her, and she hadn’t experienced that with anyone in her life, not so purely and truly like she did with him. Even with all the complicated emotions that had been bubbling up since they met, she still realized that would bear all of that just to spend another second with him.

The night before Mando’s arrival, she anxiously sent a comlink voice message to him:

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m staying at the inn. Find me there if you dare.”

Alya couldn’t believe how nervous she’d been sending a fucking comlink message, and how she’d sat there for what felt like ages, so embarrassingly long, coming up with the perfect message that didn’t give away too much of her excitement or sound desperate. She didn’t even expect Mando to respond - it was late and her message had been simple. She had already turned out the light and was trying to will herself to sleep when she heard a familiar message notification noise.

“Is that a threat, freckles?” came Mando’s deep, modulated voice over the comm. His voice filled the dark room, and she could almost pretend he had been right there with her. The thought of him alone with her in this dark room sent sparks across her skin. She quickly scrambled to message him back, liking the feeling that they were mostly communicating in real time at this point. 

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

Mando’s next message began with a sultry, deep, chuckle. “Challenge accepted.”

Alya left their messages there, his voice still hanging in the room with her and a warm feeling filling her core. She clutched her communicator to her chest for a few moments longer before setting it aside and attempting to sleep again, her heart beating a bit faster than normal and the flirty nature of their conversation threatening desire somewhere within her. She swiped her hands down her face as she lay in the dark and repeated the words that didn’t sound like words anymore because she’d said them so many times to herself the last few days - no distractions. 

She really didn’t know who she was kidding anymore. 

-

The cantina was typically bustling with bounty hunters and random folks from all across the galaxy, and today was no different. All of them were eager for their chance to turn in quarries or get the newest and best one Greef had to offer. For Alya, it had never really been her favorite crowd - sure, they did the same kind of work, but she had little interest in getting to know them, or anyone at all really. 

Alya was avoiding the rowdy, social midday crowd by quietly sitting in a rounded booth built into the far wall of the room, trying to enjoy her lunch in solitude. It was warm on Nevarro, and all the bodies in the room didn’t help, so she had opted to wear a gauzy, flowing muted blue tank top with a few cinched holes down the front and equally flowy tan pants. She would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t wanted to impress Mando a little bit with her show of skin when she chose this outfit today. The feeling of picking out an outfit for him to see had made her feel practically sick with the nervous fluttering that danced around her insides - Maker, she could barely recognize herself.

She suddenly picked up on that shift in the air that she knew well at this point, and had spent countless minutes thinking about. The way she felt a little on edge with excitement, and her stomach began to flip the tiniest bit. The whole room silenced slightly, the tension grew, and she knew he had arrived. Most of the Guild seemed envious of his success and favor for getting Greef’s best bounties, and considering most of this room were members, the growing uneasiness around them made sense.

She glanced over to the doorway where Mando was walking in, and put on a show giving her best obnoxious grin and wave towards him. He made a straight shot for her, and Alya knew people were trying to calculate just exactly what was going on with the two of them as he walked by them to get to her. He gave her a nod in greeting before sitting down across from Alya, his face hidden behind the helmet giving nothing away, but she hoped he was smiling at seeing her again just like she was. 

“Mando,” she nodded back, trying to keep up a straight, serious facade. She cracked a small smile for a quick moment and tried to reign it in again, but her overwhelming giddiness at seeing Mando again seemed to want to take over her. The pair didn’t have long to catch up because Greef had spotted them from across the room where he had been schmoozing with another Guild member, and was already heading their way. 

“Mando! Nice of you to join us,” he bellowed out as he reached their table. He motioned for Mando to make room, and he grunted but obliged, scooting around the bend of the seat, closer to Alya’s end of the booth. She had to silently steady herself, and tucked her legs in closer to herself, trying her hardest to not let them touch his legs in any way. Had she genuinely lost that much control that this was what she’d come to? She wanted to kick herself hard.

“What’ve you got?” Greef asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Mando produced several bounty pucks that he’d successfully brought in with him, and set the one they had worked on together separately on the table. 

“Split bounty,” he said, motioning over to Alya. 

“Again? My, my, this is interesting…” Greef said, pulling all the bounty pucks closer to him, a sly smile plastered on his face. 

“Owed her a favor,” Mando said quickly. Alya thought she noticed Greef exchanging an odd, knowing look with Mando, but she picked at her food and tried to ignore it before her mind could start reading into it.

“We’ll get those bounties unloaded, and as promised, your credits” Greef said, pulling out their payment, sliding Alya’s share over to her. He motioned to one of his henchmen to begin unloading Mando’s ship. Greef then began going on about new bounty pucks he had ready to give over to Mando, when Mando interrupted him by putting a gloved hand up into the air.

“Let’s talk business later, we’ve got some catching up to do,” he said to Greef before looking over at Alya. The look of absolute intrigue on Greef’s face about her and Mando’s relationship before he excused himself from their table amused Alya to no end. For someone who so often craved as little attention as possible, she was finding she didn’t mind this at all. 

Once Greef had walked away, Mando still hadn’t moved from his spot close to her in the booth, even though there was plenty of space to spread out now. Alya felt her heart start thundering at how close he was now that they were alone as she felt the heat of his massive body radiating off of him threaten to make her head spin. She forced herself to finish her lunch and hoped that he couldn’t read any of it in her expression.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her leg briefly before pulling it away just as quickly. Her heart stopped for a second, she swore it did - she took a quick steadying breath and looked over at him.

“Let’s,” she said simply, getting up from the table as he slid out of the booth behind her. They continued out of the cantina with plenty of eyes in the room on them again. Alya had just smiled and began animatedly chatting with Mando as they crossed the room, giving the people a show. 

Once they were out on the bright, sunny street Mando asked if they’d like to walk for a bit. There were vendors on either side of the street calling out to try and sell their different array of goods and hot food. She took in all the familiar smells and sights she’d grown fond of on Nevarro among her many visits here for Guild business. Alya asked Mando how his latest bounty had gone in the few days they were apart as they ambled along, and he talked more than she thought she had ever heard him before. He even explained in more detail the tech that he had inside his Mandalorian helmet that allowed him to track footsteps and even use a body heat radar through buildings. She felt a small pang of jealousy at the advantage it gave Mando out on the job. 

“There was… one problem,” he said sheepishly after recounting his recent adventures.

“Does this have anything to do with why you were late and left me here all by my poor, sad, lonesome self?” she teased, emphasizing the last words with a mocking sadness. Alya didn’t know if she was just learning to read into the way his helmet tilted towards her, but she could have sworn the way he turned his head to look at her indicated an eye roll this time.

“You’re so brave…” he said, deadpan. “Couldn’t even go without me for four days, huh?”

Alya shoved him with her shoulder as they walked, but it did nothing. She practically bounced off his wall of armor and muscles that she knew were underneath.

“Ok, tell me then. What happened to set you back?”

“I had some issues with my ship. Got some damage that I was able to repair just enough to get me here, but it’s going to need some more work before I can be sure it’ll make it out of the atmosphere again.”

Alya grimaced in sympathy at knowing the feeling of being stuck somewhere because of repairs. “Well, if you need a ride somewhere, you know where to find me,” she told him.

“What, and steal half the earnings on all my bounties?”

“I’m serious!” she shoved him again to the same result. “If the repairs are going to take a while we can pick up a couple of our bounties, no splitting necessary. I’ve got mine and you’ve got yours.”

“Let me at least help pay you back for fuel,” Mando said practically.

“Wait, so you’re in? It was that easy to whisk you away across the galaxy with me, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited, freckles, I’m only using you for your ship,” he chuckled.

She smacked him hard on the arm, laughing. She felt a simultaneous peace and unrest within her, the feelings warring each other constantly when they had moments like this together. Like this was exactly where she was supposed to be but her mind was also screaming at her to run in the opposite direction. How could one person make her feel so safe and yet so scared at the same time?

-

Alya decided to make her way back to the cantina that evening after Mando vaguely said he had some things to take care of, and that they could meet back up later. She needed several drinks after the last few weeks of emotional disruption. Her life had been going on one track for so long, and then Canto Bright happened. Mando had walked into her life with no intentions, no motive, but she already wasn’t sure she could understand the concept of living without him now. At the very least, she had maybe her first real friend in a long time - someone that genuinely cared, wanted to be around her. The idea was still taking some getting used to.

She eased into a stool at the bar, ordering a spiced cider. This was always one of her favorite drinks, but it posed a dangerous game of trying not to drink too many. She passed the time people watching while she was deep in thought, trying to keep a broody presence to avoid any unwanted conversations with the fellow cantina-goers. Most of them were too busy with their own fun - drinking games, cards, general shenanigans among friends and allies. Alya watched them with almost a hint of envy coming up, before she reminded herself that she had chosen the way she lived for a reason and avoided most people because of that. 

She’d lost track of how many drinks she’d already had when a male Klatoonian attempted to swagger up to the bar next to her. She blinked heavily a few times, coming out of her tipsy introspection.

“What’s got you looking so down like that sweetheart, eh?” he said to her. She had seen this dozens of times - the drunk, lustful look in someone’s eyes as they approached her. Only a small handful of times had it actually worked on her, and never for more than one night.

Alya sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, looking over at him and tilting her head to the side. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“What, has your little boyfriend you’ve been hanging around with disappeared on you? I think I know just how to make you feel better.” He moved closer to her as he spoke, and Alya began to feel her skin pricking with irritation. He was very clearly letting his being drunk affect his behavior, but she wasn’t in the mood to let anyone off easy tonight.

“When I tell you to fuck off or you’ll regret it, I mean it,” she growled, narrowing her gaze at him. He looked completely undeterred, still continuing to slowly close the gap between them.

“Now don’t be like that sweetheart. I can show you what you’ve been missing out on,” he slurred out, reaching his arm around towards the small of her back. Alya, even in her drunk state, whirled around quickly and grabbed the Klatoonian’s arm in one swift movement. She twisted his arm around and slammed it onto the bartop.

“Leave me alone or I’ll break your fucking arm. I told you I meant it,” she said, low and biting, gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes at him even further. The Klatoonian cried out, sobering up quickly and whimpering in pain at the unnatural direction his arm was now in.

“Is there a problem here?” a familiar, modulated voice came from behind Alya. She saw her irritating new acquaintance looking up behind her at Mando with fear in his eyes.

“No, no, no… I was just -“ the Klatoonian cried out as Alya moved his arm the slightest bit more in the wrong direction. “Just leaving, please…” he panted through clenched teeth.

“Seems like you’ve got things under control here,” Mando said coolly, using the same sharp, detached tone she’d heard him use on their quarries. He put a reassuring hand on Alya’s shoulder as he now stood in between her and the Klatoonian. She finally released him as she grinned almost sinisterly at Mando, and Mando then gripped the back of the Klatoonian’s shirt and shoved him aside. He went quickly, rubbing his arm and scrambling dejectedly out the door as he threw curses under his breath at both her and Mando.

Alya blew out a breath and sank back into her chair slightly. “I’m drunk,” she said, looking up at him now with a pouty expression. It amazed even her how quickly she had gone from ruthless killer to this soft persona in front of Mando the minute the threat was gone. Mando laughed slightly and put his arm around Alya, attempting to pull her from where she was seated. 

“And getting into bar fights. I’ll take you to your room, come on,” he said gently, nudging her in the direction of the door as she leaned against him, swaying gently with each step. She blinked heavily, her vision still feeling fuzzy from having to stand up so suddenly.

“Mmmmmm,” Alya protested, leaning further into him and dragging her feet as they walked. She could feel the strength of Mando’s arms pulling her out into the street, heading next door to the inn. She decided to stop resisting his help and lean into him, feeling more of his body against hers and truly noticing his scent for the first time now that she was closer to his neck - Maker, he smelled good - somehow musky and warm, but clean and fresh at the same time.

“Which room?” he asked, leading them through the doors of the inn and up the stairs.

“Uhh,” she pondered, searching her tipsy brain for the information. “Four.” She pulled the key card out of her pocket and held it in front of them. Mando snatched it out of her hand quickly and gracefully with the speed of the trained fighter she knew he was.

They were approaching the door to her room, and Alya had this nagging feeling inside her chest that had been growing since she realized that her new… whatever Mando was to her, hadn’t even gotten her name when they met or in any of their encounters since then. 

Maybe part of the Mandalorian culture had to do with not sharing names, she wondered to herself, as he had never said his name and everyone in the Guild had seemed to call him Mando as well. Maybe that was why he hadn’t asked for hers, she thought, that would make sense if names weren’t important to him. This overwhelming feeling of wanting to share herself with him had been growing for too long, and her thoughts had completely snowballed during her drunk ruminations tonight. She knew she was too tipsy to be able to hold back from saying it now.

“Alya,” she said quietly into their silence as they almost reached her room’s door. 

“Hmm?” Mando replied, leaning in a bit closer to hear her better.

“I know you didn’t ask, I realize you didn’t… and maybe you don’t care to know, but I needed you to know. My name… it’s Alya.”

“I know,” Mando murmured softly to her. 

Alya sharply turned her head towards him, feeling a bit of her buzz wear off suddenly. “What?”

“When I turned our first bounty in, I realized I had no idea who you were. I made Greef help me figure it out, so we could get you your credits. And so that I could just… know who the girl was that I’d been thinking about non-stop.”

She stopped, pulling herself out from under his arm and turning towards him, stunned for a moment. She bored her eyes into his helmet and said, “So that’s what was with that look he gave you today. You’ve known all this time, and didn’t say anything?!”

“I thought you’d tell me if you wanted me to know,” he shrugged slightly, nonchalant.

“Well, I do. Want you to know.” Her frustration with him subsided quickly as she realized he was just trying to let her get here on her own terms and not his.

“I can’t…” he started, taking a moment to think of how to finish his sentence, “share mine with you because of my creed. I don’t know if that changes things, or you’re disappointed, but…” he trailed off, sounding unsure of himself.

“This is the way,” she said, giving him a supportive smile as she called back the Mandalorian phrase she had learned.

“Thank you, Alya,” he said with an emphasis on her name, and she could hear the slight smile in his voice. She felt a sudden, overwhelming sleepiness from the alcohol and adrenaline comedown washing over her and she swayed a bit, still looking up at him with tired eyes, not wanting to close them for fear of him disappearing again.

He put his hands on her shoulders and moved her out of the way just enough to unlock the door and open it for her. He handed her back the key and she took it, lingering her hand on his for an extra moment. 

“Come inside… just for a little bit. Please?” She slurred slightly, their fingers still grazing each other.

Mando stiffened and didn’t move from his spot in the doorway. He looked like he was fighting some internal conflict on how to respond as Alya tugged on his hand gently, urging him silently.

“No… no distractions. You’re right. My tipsy brain just forgot,” Alya said, tapping the side of her head after Mando still hadn’t moved a moment later. 

“Just for a bit,” he finally decided, walking into the small but cozy room with her and shutting the door behind them. Alya was clearly fighting sleep as she sat on the edge of the bed and began taking her boots off.

“Off to bed with you, troublemaker. I’ll be here for a little while to make sure you’re okay,” he said, standing nearby and watching her finally get her shoes off and prop herself up on the bed. 

“M’ Always okay when you’re here,” Alya said sleepily, already laid back with her eyes closed. She started drifting off, and if Mando said anything more, she didn’t hear it. 

Several hours later Alya stirred awake, sitting up and blinking a few times to try to adjust to the darkness. She slowly remembered the events of the evening and scanned the room for Mando, assuming he had most likely left after she had fallen asleep. She immediately saw a dark, shadowed figure sitting in the sole chair across the room. He had stayed, she thought, feeling a warmth fill her heart at seeing him still there with her. 

She quietly got out of the bed and padded over to the chair where Mando slept. His head was lolled back, resting on the back of the chair, his hand near the blaster that was next to him. She noticed that most of his armor aside from his helmet had been taken off and put into a neat pile on the floor next to the chair, likely to make sleeping like this more comfortable. She was touched that he had felt safe enough with her to do that, knowing it was most likely not a decision he took lightly. Alya saw that his shoes were still on, and she kneeled in front of him before gently pulling his leg forward to try and take his boots off. He startled even quicker than Alya expected, but before he could get his bearings and likely blast her face off out of pure instinct, she called out in a harsh whisper. 

“It’s me! It’s me, I’m just helping you get to bed,” she stopped touching his shoe, holding her hands out in front of her.

He let out a few heavy breaths with relief, sitting up a bit more to get a better look at her.

“No, no, I’m okay sleeping here,“ he mumbled through the modulator, his voice sounding hoarse with sleep. 

“C’mon, I won’t bite. I just want you to be comfortable and sleep in a real bed for once - it’s seriously amazing,”  Alya replied. She tugged on his other leg to try and finish taking off his shoes, and to her surprise, he let her. She reached for his hands, attempting to pull him up out of the chair. Damn, he was heavy and she was still way too tired, making her attempt a complete failure. She stubbornly tugged a few more times, and Mando finally gave in, letting her walk him over to the bed although he grumbled most of the way. She gave him a weak, playful shove before he plopped down on the bed and laid back, sighing quietly at the comfort of the mattress after sitting in the chair for hours. 

“Now isn’t that better?” she teased him as she went to the other side of the bed and crawled in. 

She laid down next to him and pulled the sheets back over herself, settling back into the warmth she had left in the bed from a few moments ago. She was lying on her side, facing Mando who was laying stiffly on his back. She could feel tension radiating off of him as he laid unnaturally still, even for a trained fighter, seeming unsure of how to react to being next to her in the bed. Alya admitted to herself that she was feeling the same unease as it filled the space between them. She didn’t know how to handle it, these feelings she had for him. No matter what she tried to trick her brain into thinking, or how much she tried not to care…she did. 

Mando seemed to make up his mind, and he slowly turned his head and inclined his body towards her, reaching over his gloved hand to gently cup her face and stroke it with his thumb. The feel of his touch ignited flames in Alya’s core, and she never wanted him to stop touching her like this now that he had started.

“Such a thoughtful girl, freckles,” he said, a low, suggestive drowsiness still filling his voice. She gave him a soft smile and reached over, placing her hand on the arm that was reaching towards her. She allowed her fingers to lazily brush up his arm, finally reaching close enough to his chest that she dared to begin running her hand down the fabric of his shirt. She heard Mando’s breathing interrupted with a soft sigh at her sudden touch on this new spot, barely loud enough for her to hear through his helmet. He let out a shudder, his body instinctively leaning closer to hers.

“Alya,” he breathed out as her hand reached the top of his pants, her fingers gently threatening to dip below his waistband.

“I can stop distracting you anytime, just say the word,” she said quietly, pausing her roaming hand for a moment to allow him to answer. Her heart thundered in her chest, knowing this was breaking all the rules they’d set for themselves, but she didn’t care, couldn’t care, when it felt so right with him.

“Please…” he said, almost begging. He took a shaky breath before saying, “Don’t stop. You could never stop distracting me.”

At his confirmation, she began working to undo the belt around his waist, taking her sweet time, knowing it would drive him a little bit crazy. She lightly brushed her hands over his crotch a few times and could feel he was already hard, his desire pressing against his pants. She unzipped them and slid her hand in, feeling him in full now as she wrapped her hand around his generous cock. He groaned at her first touch and arched his hips up a little bit into her hand. She stroked him gently at first, his breathing becoming more unsteady as she slid her hand up and down his member and traced her fingers around the head. Mando was squirming under her touch as she continued to caress him, getting harder by the second - she felt heat between her own legs beginning to build at seeing the effect she was able to have on him.

“Feels so good,” he panted, unable to use full sentences. “Need more of you.”

Alya quickly removed her hand, getting an immediate look of protest from Mando. She pulled his pants down enough to pull his cock out, and he watched intently as she brought her hand up to her mouth and licked it, covering it with saliva before bringing it back down to his throbbing desire. His groans of pleasure rumbled out as she continued to move her hand up and down along his cock in more rapid movements now. His hands went between gripping the sheets, grabbing her arm, and then landing on sliding his hand into the hair on the back of her head and pulling on it when he felt another wave of pleasure come over him. 

“Just like that, you know what I need, beautiful girl,” he purred, his hips continuing to writhe under her hand.

He was absolutely throbbing, Alya could feel under her hand - she knew he was close. She wanted to completely send him over the edge, give him the pleasure he’d given her once before. She quickly moved off her side and crawled over to straddle the lower part of his legs. She effortlessly swapped out her hand for her lips and took just the head of his cock into her mouth. The moan that came out of Mando’s modulator at this sudden change practically had Alya cumming herself. Hearing him at her mercy, giving himself over to her like this had turned her on more than she expected. 

She teased him, licking at the shaft, sucking and flicking her tongue along it. Mando was going absolutely wild at the change in intensity, desperate for more from her as his body began to shake slightly underneath her. He whimpered quietly just before she finally took his cock fully into her mouth and began to slide her lips over him. She bobbed her head more rapidly, and he lifted his hips off the bed, practically fucking her face at this point, quick panting breaths coming out through the modulator. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling a little more roughly this time.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Mando said quickly just before releasing into her mouth. She continued sliding her mouth over him, letting him ride out the orgasm into her throat as he spilled himself into her. She felt his body finally relax under her as she pulled her lips off. He lifted his head up slightly to look down at her still straddling his legs, and she seductively bit her lip as she returned his gaze and swallowed.

“Now isn’t that a sight…” Mando drawled, clearly not taking his eyes off of her. He placed his hands on her hips for a few moments, anchoring her to where she straddled his legs and just looked. He finally released his grip, and Alya swung her leg over and rolled onto the bed next to him. They settled into a comfortable silence with Alya resting her head on Mando’s shoulder with a hand on his chest. She felt his breath rising and falling underneath it, threatening to lull her back to sleep. His arm wrapped around over top of them, holding her close to him.

“I have a follow up question,” Mando said a short while later. 

“A follow up question to what just happened?” She laughed sleepily. “Yes okay, it is the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”

“Very funny,” he said, deadpan. “No, about your name.”

“Oh,” she said, sobering up a bit. “Yeah, uh, sure,”

“I just wanted to know if I could, er, have your surname, too.” Alya was touched by the shy, awkward way he approached it, as if he had been nervous and debating on even asking her.

“Kesyk,” she said simply. 

“Alya Kesyk,” he said, trying on the words for the first time.

“I have to admit I stole it. Well, kind of. So I can’t take any credit for being born with it.”

“Stole it?”

“It was a close friend of mine, Myra. More than that, she was my… mentor, I guess. When I started doing this kind of work, I was young - really young. I didn’t have anybody, and then she showed up and took me in. She was a bounty hunter, and a damn good one - she showed me everything she knew. When she died I still wasn’t using a surname, so I thought it was a good way to honor her, and it stuck all these years. Now she’s just… a part of me?” Alya smiled gently, the melancholy feeling of memories with Myra washing over her. 

“I think it’s perfect for you,” Mando said, pausing for a breath before tentatively grabbing her hand and adding, “I’m sorry about your loss.”

“Thank you,” she squeezed his hand back in appreciation.

They laid in comfortable silence, Alya reveling in feeling his breathing and warm body next to hers. She felt waves of sleepiness coming over her, feeling so safe in Mando’s arms, and she started closing her heavy eyes until Mando spoke suddenly into the darkness. “What was that you said about the biggest one you’ve ever seen?”

“Shut up,” she scolded him as she laughed tiredly, swatting at his arm, then settling into his shoulder further to try and sleep. His warm laugh through the modulator was the last thing she heard before drifting off.

-

The next morning, Alya woke to the dim light streaming into the room. The events of the previous night came back to her quickly and she sat up, looking around the room for Mando. Her heart sank - she was alone. She quickly put on her shoes and scrambled out the door, a panic rising in her chest. Had he been upset about what they did and already left Nevarro? If that was true, she felt like an idiot for sharing what she did about her past with him last night.

She practically ran to the landing bay where she knew his ship would be parked, searching around. It took her a solid fifteen minutes of jogging around wildly between all the ships of other Guild members and visitors to finally see his Razor Crest in the distance. She spotted that the hull of his ship was wide open, but she couldn’t see him yet. At least he was still here, she thought, relief flowing through her. As she approached, he came out of the ship, and he stopped, seeming surprised to see her.

“There you are,” she panted, stopping about a foot from where he stood in front of his ship. “I was worried you… nevermind.” She knew she had to look like a sweaty mess - she hadn’t even bothered to look in the mirror this morning before rushing out to make sure he didn't disappear on her. She felt somewhat pathetic about all of that seeing that he was unbothered, just standing here so casually as she quickly tried smoothing her hair and adjusting her clothes. 

“I’m sorry, I had a few things to check on and I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, matter of factly. “I didn’t mean to worry you…”

In the light of day, things felt almost uncomfortable between them, Alya thought. After their initial meeting on Canto Bright, they could chalk it up to a moment of passion between two strangers - easy to ignore, easy to not read into. But now… she wasn’t sure a second time could be written off so easily. They had come to an agreement together, and she felt that she had broken it, pushed him into breaking it.

“About last night… I didn’t… I know we said that we shouldn’t be… It was just a dumb, spur of the moment thing. I was caught up in the moment, and I’m sorry,” Alya said, still trying to catch her breath. She knew she was lying through her teeth, but she didn’t want Mando to think that she wasn’t taking their agreement on their relationship seriously.

“It’s not like I stopped you, so we’re both to blame here,” Mando said with a tone that Alya found unreadable, which only served to increase her anxiety.

“I know, I just -“ she started, but Mando held his hand out to stop her.

“I’m serious. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Let’s just say we’re… even after last night.” Mando took a reassuring step towards her. 

“Even?” Alya replied, amused. “Okay, fine then. Should we just forget it happened? Or…” she asked, trying to sound casual, even though it was the last thing she wanted. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted, and she hated not feeling and sounding confident around Mando right now. All she knew was that she had felt completely turned upside down since the first night they had met. She didn’t know how to do this - have a real relationship with someone, care about someone like this. She just wanted to avoid it all and go back to the numb feeling she had before she met Mando. It was far more preferable to the desperate, clawing fear of losing him, or worse, giving herself over to him completely. 

Mando had taken a few beats before answering her. “Is that really what you think we should do?” His voice sounded tight, almost hurt, sending a pang through Alya’s already conflicted heart. 

Alya swallowed hard and breathed out a sigh. “It’s just… too complicated, right? I don’t really know how to do this, I don’t know how to be-“ How to be what? She thought to herself, unable to even buy into the words coming out of her own mouth “It would be better for both of us, I think. Don’t you?”

“I… don’t know. Yeah, maybe it would.”

“So… Can we be friends?”

“Friends.”

Alya held out her hand and Mando shook it. Alya’s heart was in her stomach by this point, and knowing that she had done this to herself made it even worse. I’m terrified, she wanted to scream instead, of letting you down, of loving you, of letting someone love me. She blinked, trying to will away the sadness she could feel was showing in her eyes as she smiled up at him. 

“Can I tell you something?” Alya asked him, looking down at her feet.

“I’m listening.” Mando tilted his head slightly. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had a real friend,” she said sheepishly.

Mando processed her comment for a moment, thinking. “I’m not sure I can either.” 

“Not surprising,” she pressed her lips together as she looked back up at him, trying not to crack a smile through her sadness.

Mando grunted and crossed his arms defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, you know.”

“Excuse me, but I am charming as hell,” Alya said, placing her hands on her hips.

“Oh, I know. Charming, but nobody can touch you with a ten foot pole,” he retorted.

“Well, except…” she started, then reminded herself quickly of the arrangement they’d just made with each other - she had to stop flirting with him. “Nevermind.”

She thought she heard a small chuckle from Mando as he seemed to understand the sentiment of what she was going to say. 

“So, it turns out they had the parts needed for my ship, so it was a quick turnaround,”  Mando blurted out, changing the subject. Alya blinked hard, trying to let her brain catch up with the sudden change in their plans together. She didn’t think it was possible, but Alya felt her heart sink further. 

“Oh… that’s great. Less hassle than expected.” She tried to sound upbeat but knew she was failing miserably. 

“I was thinking of taking off today, I’m all set up with my next few jobs.” He shifted uncomfortably, clearly not sure how she was going to take this news. 

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, same here. I should get back out there.”

“Would've been fun to get whisked off around the galaxy though, as you put it yesterday,” he said, a slight smiling quality filling the modulated voice. That was it - Alya’s heart was cracked, and she didn’t know how to stop it, stop this, stop him from leaving without her. And she also didn’t know how to stay. Nobody had ever stayed.

She forced a shaky smile, feeling tears wanting to begin prickling behind her eyes. “Maybe someday,” she promised.

“Take care of yourself, freckles,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing them. She felt the safety of his strong hands come and go, leaving a tingling sensation behind on her skin that she hoped wouldn’t fade away too quickly.

All she could do without allowing tears to come was nod as if to wish him the same and quickly turn on her heel and briskly begin the walk back to her ship. As soon as she knew she was far enough out of view, the tears began to fall. Before she realized it, they were starting to pour down her face, letting out all the absolute heartache she had inside of her. She rushed into her ship and sank to the floor as soon as she was inside, heaving breaths coming out of her.

She tried to convince herself through her tears that she didn’t know Mando that well, that this was nothing, he was just the first person to show any interest towards her in a long time. None of it worked - she knew it was all bullshit, and that now they both were hurting because of her shortcomings, her inability to let herself have this. How could he forgive her for denying them the beautiful thing that seemed to grow between them every time they were together?

Alya finally decided after her sobs slowly tapered off that enough was enough - she could move on, had to move on. They had agreed to have each other’s back and remain amicable, and that had to suffice for her. She might be able to keep that promise, she thought to herself as she started pulling her ship out of the landing bay, if she could stay the hell away from him.

[garden-bug]

ABOUT ME 🐞🦟🐛🪲🐜🪳🦋🪰🦗🐝

I am garden-bug and you can refer to me as such. I love bugs big and small but mostly big (unless I have a microscope handy which I literally don't guys I don't have a microscope). My favourite insects are praying mantids or ants and I have written too many essays that talk about ant symbolism.

I am a literature student and literature analysis is not my degree it is my lifestyle.

I am multi fandom. I will list fandoms I engage with, my takes and my fics below:

Star Wars

OG Trilogy: Amazing incredible

Prequels: Flawed but culturally relevant

Sequels: 💀💀

The Mandalorian: Seasons 1 & 2 changed my life but none as much as season 3 which I was so appalled by that I spent the summer of 2023 rewriting

Ahsoka: 💀💀

Thrawn 1st 2 trilogies: Literally space Sherlock Holmes I love the Thrawn trilogies (haven't read the original yet I know shock horror but idt I'd cope)

Clone Wars: Very cool, Ahsoka my beloved. Darth Maul.

Anything not mentioned I either haven't seen, abhorred, or forgot what happened in.

My other takes:

New Star Wars is kinda… trash??

I do not like Dave Filoni's writing or his mando-verse or whatever he's calling it.

Ezra and Thrawn space adventures forever in our hearts 💔

Thrawn is an anti-villain guys.

Ships:

I wish I could ship Shin x Sabine but I've seen brick walls with more chemistry.

Thranto

DINLUKE!!!

My Fics:

Mandalorian S3 (+ Ahsoka series rewrite):

Force-school crack fic:

One Piece

I am on WATER SEVEN! I love Franky with my whole life and Iceberg is a beautiful man. Finished Dressrosa for Doflamingo and Law and Corazon. I cried. I’m kind of skipping around honestly because I’ve pretty much had everything spoiled I just pick an episode and go.

Ships

Zolu and Lawlu on the aroace spectrum my beloved 💞💞

Not been convinced by Zosan...

FROBIN!!

Oh my god dofuwani

Other takes:

I LOVE OPLA! It stole my heart. OPLA cast my beloved. So good. Amazing. Even my mum loved it.

Yes it’s a little different to the manga/anime and misses some details, but I think it does a brilliant job for what it is, capturing the essence of One Piece and making it more accessible to a wider audience. You would not catch my mum watching the anime that’s all I’m saying.

Crocodad/Crocomom is real idc

The one piece is real

My fics:

This was meant to be a silly genderbend dofuwani fic but it derailed significantly. Now it’s like 30k, Croco’s got a traumatic backstory, Luffy abandonment complex origin story *spoilers: crocomom*, Doffy has some gender realisations, fem dofuwani has taken over my brain like a fungus, it’s also somehow just really really fun to write.

Death Note

I don't interact with this fandom much because my takes are shaped by my AU so I literally relate to nothing. Death Note has be in a constant choke-hold just always like it’s always there in the back of my mind. I think it made me who I am. Uhh help.

Ships:

Not a lawlight shipper. Light was mean and evil and L deserved better 11yr old me was distraught and my feelings have never changed.

L x Lola (OC)

In my AU Near and Mello are raised as siblings so their ship kinda freaks me out.

Idc abt Matt I never even wrote him into my fic (rip).

Mello x Halle my beloved. I love when two bisexuals fall in love.

Other takes:

The manga is better.

The anime deserves a re-adaptation??

Near is my absolute favourite fictional character ever (genuinely do not know why huh) he is so annoying and I adore him.

Mello didn't die what L and Lola saved him.

My Fics:

I wrote this when I was 12 but it is the basis for my AU and deserves all the honorary mentions:

Jujutsu Kaisen

WHAT THE FUCK -

My fics:

Cosy one-shots basically:

Bungou Stray Dogs

Chaos shambled disarray that somehow I enjoy.

Pisses me off but it has its moments.

Ships:

Sokoku is my all time absolute favourite ship ever of all time. Yeah no it still is I just checked.

My fics:

Dazai and Chuuya get hit by a tsunami oh no they have to face their tumultuous feelings for each other (spiral) and accidentally adopt/rescue a small child:

Ninjago

JUMP UP KICK BACK WHIP AORUND AN D SHPIN -

I love Ninjago. Lloyd my beloved. Zane is me fr.

Ships:

Jaya

Zane/Pixal

Kai/Skylor

Llorumi is a NO Harumi is an irredeemable monster and you cannot convince me otherwise. My sweet Lloyd deserves better.

I don't ship any of the ninja with each other ESPECIALLY not with Lloyd the age thing is a mess.

Images used in the ninjago memes are from Pinterest and saved to this board under the ‘I’m gonna make memes’ section: https://pin.it/4rN3gIj

[djarintreble]

ik the mandalorian fandom goes into hibernation after every season but if i’m almost done with a huge mando one shot that’s already 10k+ words and counting… would anyone want to read it 🥺 it was originally inspired by the princess bride and it expanded into so much more. it’s my special baby i’ve been hiding but it’s almost ready to be shared. i have fanart, concept maps, and more.

here’s a sneak peak of it… din djarin x fem!OC

“Din Djarin lost many things that day. His family, his best friend, his identity… He was saved by a mandalorian who flew him away from all he’s known. At the mere age of ten, he was to leave his old life behind and become something new.

Kaisa Vainne lost her best friend that day but she remained of her title; princess of Eliina’rah. This filled the young girl with fear. Despite her parents' attempt to hide her from the reality of the war, Kaisa knew what would come of the galaxy and what it meant for the royal family of Eliina’rah. No one was safe.

The innocence of one’s childhood was seen as a gift. For these two children, however, maturity would take its hold.

By creed, Din Djarin was to live in the ways of the Mandalorians. By duty, Kaisa Vainne was to learn the ways of ruling her planet.

By the force, both would be reunited again.”

and

“They sat in silence long enough to watch the fire burn out, leaving them surrounded by nothing but each other and the stars. Out of instinct, the princess looked up. The stars looked differently here than back on her planet. There was no other light source to diminish the many stars that seemed to hide back on Eliina’rah or even on Coruscant. Here they were exposed and willing to face the eyes that viewed them, shining brighter than ever.

“Let’s go back to the ship and get some rest. It’s been a long few days for the both of us.” Din finally spoke up, causing the princess to look back down at him. They were surrounded by stars yet he seemed to shine brighter as he let them reflect off his armor. Kaisa nodded with a smile. The two walked back toward the ship without another word.”

lmk and i’ll post it soon 😋😋

[ultimate-simp-10]

The sequel to "Between Light and Dark", "Between Good and Bad", is officially in the works! Cover made by me!

It's not live yet as I'm on the first chapter, but it can be read standalone and is Mando x fem!oc.

[imaginedisish]

Two Weeks (Din Djarin x Reader)

Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 coming soon)

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is my first chaptered Din Djarin x Reader fic. I’ve got big plans and I hope y'all like it. Requests are still open. Bruce Wayne x Reader coming next!!! Thanks y'all!!! Enjoy :) (also this is gonna be based on Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear but each chapter will have it’s own name after this)

Summary: After running away from Luke’s training, Din is tasked with bringing you back to him. What neither of you anticipated was the connection that would come with being stuck together for two weeks.

Warnings: Eventual smut!!! So imma put an 18+ warning just to be safe. I don’t think this is going to be too slow of a slow burn (like I’m talking smut by the next chapter or chapter 3 so...), canon violence, implication that Din got another Razor Crest bc im lazy, creepy/sexual harassment-y Twi’leck, and my favorite: the one bed trope muahaha.

Word Count: 3,605

The holobooks glow a cerulean blue, illuminating the dimly lit shelves that stretched on for what seemed like miles. The library was unsettlingly quiet, too quiet. The silence gave you more than enough time to drown yourself in your own thoughts. 

You can’t help but go over that last conversation you and Luke had shared just two months ago. It plays over and over again in your head, tempting your brain to split open with guilt. 

“I’m not picking a side,” You shouted, storming towards the X-Wing you intended to take from Luke.

“But by leaving you are,” He insisted. “You’re giving into your fear, your hatred, your emotions.” His voice was stern, yet calm. It annoyed you. How could he possibly be so collected at a time like this?

“No!” Your shout was now a scream. “Leaving isn’t the same thing as picking a side.” You could feel your throat closing, growing hoarser with each syllable. “I’m done being an apprentice. I’m done serving someone else!”

And with that, you left.

You knew you had made the right decision, but you still felt undeniably guilty. You didn’t want to hurt Luke, but you needed to save yourself. You wanted to go down your own path, to make your own choices. 

After all, you had spent the first fifteen years of your life with the Empire. You’ve never known the full story, but you were apparently kidnapped by the Empire before you could crawl. They knew you were force sensitive, and so you always assumed you had come from some powerful Jedi Knight. Once kidnapped, you trained under Vader as an apprentice. While it was in small doses, you had brought out the light in him. Then, the Rebels found you during the Battle of Yavin, and took you in.

So, when Luke began training you, he was shocked to see that you already knew an abundance of Jedi skills. He realized that whatever was leftover of Anakin Skywalker had trained you. However, your Sith training was still certainly prevalent. But because of this, you felt as though you could use both sides of the force comfortably. You tried to explain to Luke that you found balance in using both the light and the dark, but he refused to understand.

Luke often treated you like you were something that needed to be cleansed, like something that wasn’t enough. He immediately forced himself into the traditions of the Jedi. You, on the other hand, knew that would be a mistake. 

You decided to steal the X-Wing and fly to Nevarro. You sold the ship and found a job as an archivist at a brand new library on the planet. Things had been going well, but today you simply couldn’t stop thinking about your past, about Luke. You could feel something coming, something that was connected to-

Suddenly a shiny figure covered in Beskar approached your desk. You swallow harshly, immediately sensing that he isn’t just here for the books. 

He’s here for you. 

“C-Can I help you?” You stutter. Your eyes flash under the desk, checking quickly to ensure your sabers are still there. Although, they aren’t quite yours. One was your father’s — whoever that was — and the other was Vader’s. Luke had given you your father’s, while you found Vader’s in the destruction of the Second Death Star. You never told Luke about it. 

“I’m looking for a Jedi,” The Mandalorian’s modulated voice snaps you back to reality. You know he means you, even though you don’t consider yourself a Jedi. You reach your hands out and attempt to discreetly force pull the sabers to you. 

You fail completely, as one knocks over a paper weight and a canteen of water before flying into your hands. 

“Guess that’s you,” He states matter-of-factly. 

You leap over the desk and sprint into the stacks, igniting your sabers in the process. The blue and red beams reflect against the gray marble floors, your boots pounding with each step you take. 

You look behind you, noticing that the Mandalorian is gaining on you. His armor clatters as he closes the space between the two of you. 

You concentrate your energy, bending down into the floor, and leaping up, bouncing from shelf to shelf until you reach the top of a bookcase. You look behind you again, and the Mandalorian is now climbing the shelves. You pause for a moment, knowing that he isn’t going to make it up as quickly as you did. 

“Who sent you?” You question as he continues up the case. 

His gloved hands finally reach the top. “A mutual friend,” He says, his voice a bit strained through his helmet as he pushes himself up. 

You point the red saber towards him as he stands just a few feet away from you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask, swallowing the fear in the back of your throat. “Because if so, you can fuck off. I’ll kill you before you can take me back to wherever you’re stationed now. I’m not going back,” You can feel tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. “I-I’m not going back,” You say again, stuttering. 

The Mandalorian takes a single step towards you, slipping his blaster back into its holster. He puts his hands in the air, “Maker, no, I’m not with the Empire,” He takes another step towards you, and you slowly lower your saber. “It’s okay,” He breathes. Despite the helmet, you know he’s looking into your eyes. He can feel your pain. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

You close both sabers, still clasping the hilts tightly in your hands. “So, then who sent you?” You press, apprehensively closing the space between you and the Mandalorian. You feel as though you can trust him. You can tell he isn’t here to hurt you. If he was going to, he certainly would have already.

“Luke Skywalker,” He finally admits. “He asked me to bring you to him.” 

You scoff, shaking your head as you turn away from the Mandalorian. “No kriffing way am I going back,” Your voice is callous and coarse. You sit on the edge of the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the shelf below.  “He couldn’t even come get me himself,” You whisper, looking off into the distance. 

The Mandalorian stands next to you, and that’s when you sense something else. 

You look up at him, his armor glimmering in the blue light, and see a little green figure peeking through the brown sack around his waist. You smile softly, instantly feeling the force coursing through the little creature. 

“Who’s this?” You ask, reaching out towards him. The little guy reaches towards you too. Before the Mandalorian can stop him, the child falls into your arms. “The force is strong with him,” You say as you scoop him up. 

“His name is Grogu,” The Mandalorian remarks, snatching the child back. He reaches a hand out to you, “But now isn’t the time for introductions. I have to get you back to Luke.” 

You breathe deeply through your nose, sighing audibly as you exhale. You take the Mandalorian’s hand and stand up. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”

“I don’t negotiate with bounties,” He states nonchalantly. 

You roll your eyes. “The condition is that you bring me back here once I’m done talking to Luke. I don’t intend to stay with him for more than ten minutes.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, pondering your proposition. Finally, he nods. “Fine,” The Mandalorian huffs. “But then my condition is that I’ll do some bounties on the way, and you’ll stay on the ship with the child.” 

You arch your brow and shake your sabers. “You want me to stay on the ship? The wanted, force sensitive, Sith Lord-Jedi?”

The Mandalorian chuckles softly. For some reason you can’t quite place, your heartbeat speeds up at the sound of it. “Maybe I’ll think about it,” He says, walking away from you and jumping down from the bookcase. You follow closely behind him. 

“What’s your name?” You ask as you head towards the doors of the library. 

He doesn’t answer right away, as if he’s unsure of how to respond. “You can call me Mando,” He says finally. You nod. 

Mando. 

You grab your cloak from one of the hooks in the foyer of the lobby, and swiftly put it on. You lift the hood over your head, ensuring that you stay at least somewhat hidden, and exit the library.

—————————————————————————

After a mile or two of walking, you and Mando come across a cantina. He stops in front of it, carefully grasping his blaster. His visor looks down at you, and you meet his gaze. He’s heeding a wordless warning. 

But you didn’t need any warnings. You could handle yourself. 

You nod once and Mando presses a button that opens the door. You walk into the dark bar, music blasting from the speakers. 

“So, what are we doing here?” You ask, your eyes searching the cantina. 

Mando nods over to a corner booth. “You see that Twi’lek sitting next to that guy?” Mando asks, and you nod. “He’s coming back with us, whether he likes it or not.” 

“How do I help?” You question, moving your cloak to the side to grab your sabers. Mando reaches down to your hand in response, his gloved fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Not like that,” He says, his grasp still firm on you. You can’t help but notice the contact, the closeness. “Go sit in that booth over there,” His voice is barely audible as he points to the booth a few seats away from the Twi’lek. “And take the kid,” He says, pulling the bag off of him and handing it to you. You wanted to roll your eyes at the lack of importance in your job, but the cuteness of the kid quickly makes you happy to be of service. 

You head over to the table and sit down. Grogu wiggles out of the bag and into your lap. A feeling of safety washes over you as he makes himself comfortable, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Grogu is attempting to communicate to you that his father isn’t as bad as he appears to be. 

And you’re quick to believe him.

It’s clear that the child loves Mando, as Grogu fills your mind with images of the Mandalorian going above and beyond to save him, putting him above all else, sacrificing his own happiness just so Grogu can live a good life. It makes your heart warm. It gives you a certain feeling, a feeling you haven’t felt…

Ever.

“I get it little guy,” You whisper to him, rubbing his head with the fist of your hand. He coos and giggles as you squeeze him closer to you. 

But those feelings of safety and comfort and warmth turn into nothingness the second you feel a hand grip your shoulder tightly. 

You whip your head around to see another Twi’lek. “Can I help you?” You snarl condescendingly. 

The Twi’lek chuckles. “That’s no way for a woman to talk to a man who’s interested in her,” He answers. You roll your eyes. 

“Interested in what about me, exactly?” You question, placing the kid in the space next to you. “In getting your ass kicked?” Your voice is firm and growing louder with each word that leaves your lips. 

He brings his hand up to your chin, lifting it up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. You grab his hand in response, trying to pry it off of you, but it’s no use. “You need to learn how to behave yourself,” He growls. You contemplate force pushing him off of you, or reaching for your saber and chopping him in half right here, but you know that would ruin Mando’s bounty, and it would blow your cover. 

“Let me go,” You demand, your eyes searching the room for some sort of escape. There was nothing you could do without giving up your spot. You look over to the other booth, attempting to catch Mando’s attention. You can hear the child screeching behind you. Your heart pounds in your ears. “Please just let me go,” You’re begging now. You don’t know what else to do. 

The Twi’lek scoffs. “Not happening. Not until you learn how to-,”

Two blaster shots ring out, and the Twi’lek immediately jumps back in fear. 

“You kriffing touch her again and you’ll end up like your friend here,” Mando says, holding up the lifeless body of the bounty. “I should kill you for just talking to her,” His voice is commanding as he closes the gap between himself and the Twi’lek. 

You grab the child and pull him into your chest. You can feel his fear, and you’re sure he can feel your own too. “It’s okay,” You whisper. “I’ve got you now.” Mando watches how you’re caring for Grogu out of the corner of his eye. Something stirs within him, something he can’t quite place. 

He storms over to you, bounty in tow, and grabs your arm. His gloved fingers once again find their way to your wrist, and he guides you out of the cantina. 

Just behind the cantina is a ship. You figured Mando had planned that whole thing out. Dragging a bounty for miles on end doesn’t exactly sound like fun. Regardless, you wanted to forget what had just happened. You had been through enough for one day, never mind an entire lifetime. 

“What kind of ship is this?” You ask, trying to make conversation. Mando’s grip on your wrist tightens, and he stops in his tracks. 

“You just almost got killed, or…” He trails off, looking down at the ground. “Or worse, and you want to know what kind of ship this is?” His voice is no longer strong or confident, it’s shaky and unsure. You’re shocked at how much he cares for your wellbeing. Even inside the cantina, something had come over him. No one, including Luke, has ever shown so much care for you before.

That’s when you feel the tears pricking at your eyes. That’s when you finally register the weight of what tonight’s events could have meant. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You stumble around your words, staring down into the orangey-tan sand coating your gray boots. 

Mando shakes his head, his arm moving up to rest on your shoulder. He rubs softly and breathes deeply. “No, don’t apologize. I’m being too hard on you,” He whispers. “Are you alright?”

You nod once. “I think so,” You reply, settling into his touch. It’s relaxing, warm, and you’re enjoying it far more than you should. You don’t know what it is, but there’s something endearing about him, something that lures you in and keeps you hanging. You want to hold onto the feeling, to keep it in your pocket and wear it around your neck whenever you can. 

He keeps his hand around your wrist while the other pulls the bounty along as you walk up the ramp together. He drops your wrist and yanks the bounty over to the carbon freezer. He makes quick work of the Twi’leck as you look around the ship. In the corner, underneath the cockpit, is a single bunk. Your exhaustion makes the makeshift mattress look extra comfortable. You could fall asleep standing up, to be honest. 

Mando finishes with the now dead bounty and stands by your side. You hand him the bag with the kid in it. He peers inside and catches a glimpse of a sleeping Grogu. You hear him chuckle through his modulator and you can feel that feeling again, that feeling that makes your heart want to burst. 

You smile softly. “So how long am I going to be a burden on you,” You joke, your smile widening. 

“Two weeks,” He says plainly. 

For some reason, two weeks didn’t seem long enough. 

Mando’s visor meets your gaze again. You can’t help but yawn, your exhaustion thoroughly catching up with you. 

“You should get some rest, we’ll be on Tatooine tomorrow,” He says, his voice equally thick with tiredness. “My bunk is down there, you can take it.” 

You furrow your brows. “What about you?” You ask. You really were going to be a burden on him. 

“I’ll take the cockpit,” He says back, pointing over to the uncomfortable looking chairs at the front of the ship. 

You shake your head. “We can share, it’s fine,” You insist. But Mando doesn’t listen. He walks towards the cockpit. 

“Maybe,” He finally responds, “But for now I’ll stay up here. I have to put in the coordinates and get us on course anyway.” 

You nod. “Goodnight,” You whisper, your voice coated with fatigue. 

“‘Night,” Mando whispers back as he takes his seat. You do as he says and waddle down into his bunk. 

Normally, something like this wouldn’t seem comfortable to you, being that the mattress was probably no more than two inches thick and the blanket was incredibly thin, but you were far too tired to care. It felt like heaven just to lay down, so much so that you drift off to sleep before Mando can even take off. 

—————————————————————————

There’s lightning, and a hooded figure. You can see Mando and the child on the other side of whatever platform you’re on, maybe on a rock somewhere off in the distance. Your sabers glow in your hands. You try to run towards the figure, but you’re stuck. You can’t move. 

The figure reaches out their hand, and force lightning pours out from their fingertips. You drop your blue saber and extend your hand out, electricity shooting from your fingers with twice as much force. Your eyes glow a threatening, dark yellow.

You scream out as the hooded figure fights back, increasing his force, stepping closer towards you. 

“The Mandalorian and the Child are mine now,” He says, his voice cold and cruel. 

“No!” You shout. “N-“

“No!” Your eyes open wide as you push yourself up on your forearms. You practically smack your head on the roof of the bunk. You’re shivering. You can’t tell if it’s just the temperature of the ship, or if it’s a product of the nightmare you just had. 

But that wasn’t just any nightmare, it was a vision. You had never seen that place, that planet before. And the pain you felt, it stemmed from a place, a feeling you just haven’t felt yet. 

Love, true love.

You can hear the clunking of metal above you, and seconds later, Mando appears at the entrance to the bunk. 

“Are you alright?” He’s panicked and practically shouting. 

“Y-yeah,” You mumble. “Sorry if I woke you, it was just a nightmare.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but you figure he isn’t exactly ready for the truth just yet. 

After all, you did just meet. 

“Are you sure?” He presses. He isn’t buying it, and he’s completely right not to. 

You sniffle and stir a bit under the covers. “I think so,” You lie again. You weren’t sure at all, and you certainly weren’t ‘alright’ in any capacity. 

Mando sighs heavily through his modulator. “Do you want to talk about it, cyar’ika?” 

You were shocked at how kind he was being. He could be so tough, so cold to his bounties. “What’s that mean, cyar’ika?” You question, trying your best to change the direction of the conversation. 

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Mando says, dismissing your question entirely. 

You smirk, attempting to convince him that you’re okay. “I’m fine, I mean it.” 

Mando nods once and begins to slip out of the bunk. But as he leaves, you begin to regret telling him you were fine. His proximity to you had made the pain go away, just for a moment. Now you were back to being anxious and cold. Genuinely, you were freezing. You must be in deep space by now. You were more than positive that you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep like this. 

You groan, embarrassed to call him back just as you had kicked him out. “Mando,” You call out. He’s back within seconds. “Can you…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Would you…” It’s impossible. 

“I’ll stay with you.” 

It’s like he can read your mind. 

He strips off his armor, save his helmet, and slips in next to you. He brushes up against you for just a second, and practically pulls away instantly. 

“Maker, you’re freezing,” He says. Suddenly, you feel his arm slowly wrap around your waist, hesitantly pulling you tightly against his chest. “Is this alright?” He asks. You’re too stunned to speak, so you simply hum a yes. 

After a few minutes of lying like that, with your back up against his chest, you begin to feel better. Still, you can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re a burden to him, like this is something he has to do. You’re supposed to be powerful. You were a Jedi, a Sith, and yet a Mandalorian is being forced to take care of you. 

“You don’t have to stay, you know. You can go back to the cockpit if you-,”

But he cuts you off. “I told you I would stay.” And so, he did.

Two weeks, You think to yourself. Two weeks.

And then you drifted off to sleep, without nightmares, without visions.

Just like yesterday

I told you I would stay

Would you always?

Maybe sometimes?

Make it easy?

Take your time

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C   

word count: 4.4K  

chapter summary: Fennec feels worn out, Din feels hungover, and Marathel doesn’t know how to feel 

warnings:  fluff, angst, mention of blood and injury, rape aftermath, English and Mando’a cursing   

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***     

You Were Marked: Masterlist   

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Fennec was very, very tired.  She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since meeting this Marathel woman, who currently lay tranquilized on the cot before her.  Marathel, who tried so hard to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, had instead sent the palace into an uproar.  The silver-haired woman collected champions everywhere she went.  Silnima was ready to adopt her as well as make her chief baker, if Marathel wished.  Din Djarin was obviously completely in the most stupid variety of love with her, and right behind the Mandalorian, Cobb Vanth was hurriedly catching up in the adoration race.  Boba had admitted to her that even he found her charming, and he was ready to jump into any fray to protect her, like an old mobster uncle would protect his favorite niece.   

It might have been more amusing if Marathel was actually manipulative.  Marathel was not.  She was in fact so simple she was straight.  She had no guile, no artifice whatsoever.  Cobb had mentioned to Fennec that he thought of her as a full-grown child who had dropped from the sky, an apt description if there ever was one.  Everything was black and white in Marathel’s world.  She had a child’s sensibility, a child’s gullibility, almost to the point where Fennec wondered if the woman even had object permanence. 

Fennec had just witnessed another emotional breakdown from Marathel, the reasons for which were still unknown to Fennec.  Marathel had been lying quietly, appearing to be deep in thought, before she suddenly began to weep, and had become hysterical enough to require intervention from the medi-droid.  Obviously — at least to Fennec — it was all somehow the Mandalorian’s fault.  The fact that Din had both cleared the room and turned the lights off led Fennec to believe that he had: one, removed his helmet, and two, most likely kissed her, and three, probably told her he loved her.  Both apparently had trouble with complex emotions, but at least Din should know better than to run in, declare his love like a soldier heading off to war, and run out as if a Hoth blizzard were approaching.  At least give the woman a chance to reply, thought Fennec.  After Din had left — having given her a handful of the Aurodium coins — Fennec had turned the lights back on in the med-bay to see a flushed and bewildered Marathel, sitting up on her elbow, her hand to her mouth, and tears in her eyes as the sounds of Grogu screaming “MAMA!” reverberated through the ship.   

Then the ship began take-off, which shifted Marathel from bewilderment to panic until the ship ceased quaking and began to fly smoothly.  Marathel had then commented that the persistent engine noise was somehow soothing to her, and she began to relax enough to rest.   

It was shortly after this that Marathel’s latest crying jag occurred, and Fennec was nearly out of patience.  After Marathel was tranquilized, Fennec left the med-bay in search of the Modifier, who was in the cockpit with the pilot.  The pilot looked like the average mercenary: faceless, nameless, and uninterested in the cargo. 

“Is the commotion all over?” asked the Modifier. 

“It’s never over with that woman,” mumbled Fennec.   

“Something new offended her delicate sensibilities?” Fennec sighed, and reminded herself that Marathel was doing her level best to cope.  Then the Modifier asked, “Did the Mandalorian provide payment?”  Fennec flicked her eyes to the back of the pilot’s head.  The Modifier nodded.  Some things were never discussed in front of a mercenary, regardless of how inconspicuous they were. 

Din awoke in Marathel’s bed alone, curled up on his side, his mouth feeling as if he’d chewed on a Jawa all night.  His nose was stuffed up, his neck was sore, and although his visor kept out the blinding light of the two suns, his eye sockets were throbbing with the dehydration headache.  He felt around him, looking for Grogu, for Cobb, or even the Jawa he believed he was chewing on.  But he was alone, and the door to Marathel’s room was shut tight.   Din scooted over to the edge of the bed to peer at the side table, which held a large, beautiful pitcher of glorious looking water, several hydration powder packets, and a glass. 

Silently thanking Silnima, Cobb, Frith, whomever had left him this morning-after gift, Din drank the entire pitcher along with all the hydration powder, took a runner-beast-sized piss, and had a quick hot shower to cook out the remainder of the booze from his pores.   

Feeling human again, he straightened up Marathel’s bed, smoothing the sheet over her pillow.  He sat in her padded chair to pull on his boots when he noticed items on her large treatment table that had not been there yesterday: a large, waxed bag that looked as if it contained sweets, three large hanks of yarn, a big ball of near-white fluffy wool, knitting needles, and two jars of dark honey.  Set off to one side of these items was a new pair of shoes.  The shoes were an ankle-high slip-on style in a deep grey leather, flat-heeled, simple, and very appropriate for someone like Marathel.  There was a tiny scuff on the outside of one of the shoes, a few grains of sand on the inside of the other.  Din had a fleeting desire to smell the inside of her shoe.  That’s weird, right?  Yeah, that’s just weird.  I’m still drunk.  Din stood, making sure his bandolier was properly buckled, and his blasters were properly positioned on his hips.  He lifted his helmet and held it above his head to put it on when his eyes fell on Marathel’s shoes again.  He dropped his helmet into one arm, grabbed Marathel’s left shoe and took a deep whiff.   

Well, that was disappointing.  All he could smell was new leather.  With a laugh, Din put down her shoe, wondering if he would have preferred her feet to smell badly or not. He put on his helmet and opened the door.  Cobb was leaning against the opposite wall, drinking from a mug of caf. 

“How are you feeling, friend?” asked Cobb. 

“Better now.  Thank you for the water.” 

“That wasn’t me,” said Cobb with a shrug.   “I just supplied the hydration packets.” 

Din looked up and down the corridor.  “Where’s Grogu?” 

“With the other palace kids.” 

“How did he seem?” 

Cobb shrugged again.  “Subdued.”�� He smiled wryly.  “He ended up between us, and we had positioned ourselves like a little fort around him.  Our arms made the roof.”  He raised his eyes to Din’s visor.  “It was quite nice. It felt good.  Made me a … little jealous of Marathel.”  Cobb went silent for a few moments, and then he took a drink from his caf.  “Look, I gotta head back to Freetown.  I trust the new deputy only so far, and I really have no reason to hang around if I can’t get my arm worked on.” 

Din remained silent.  Both men stood still for a while before Din reached out to take Cobb’s arm.  Pulling himself close to Cobb, Din whispered, “You’d leave me?” 

Cobb’s eyes went wide, but after a moment’s thought, he squinted his eyes and said, “You’re pullin’ my chain.” 

“Mostly,” said Din.  “I need to go find buyers for the Aurodium, and I need a distraction for Grogu.”  Din’s hand went to Cobb’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.  “Come with us.” 

“Uh … no.  I’m not stepping off this planet.  Jumping around the vacuum of space in a tiny metal box is my personal vision of hell.  Not even you can change my mind.”  Cobb lifted Din’s hand from his shoulder and held it.  “But give me updates on Marathel.  And … consider her staying here for a while when she’s better.”  Closer to me.  “The palace is a controlled environment for her.  Out there … I think it’s hard for her to feel safe.” Cobb dropped Din’s hand.  “She was scared of a Trandoshan she saw in Mos Espa.” 

“She should at least be cautious.  They’re assholes.”  Din nodded.  “You’re right, though.  Here at the palace Marathel would have only a limited number of people to contend with.  She’d be safe, even if I’m not here.  And Silnima can help her have a purpose.  Marathel is not one to be idle.” 

Cobb grinned. “And she now knows where to buy yarn.” 

Under the helmet Din was smiling too.  “Thanks to you.”  He leaned forward and hugged Cobb, hard.   

Cobb squeezed back, and in Din’s ear, he whispered, “Love her.”  Din drew back.  “What?” 

Din shook his head.  “That’s what … the Dahl told me.  Rodanthe.  I figured … I imagined it.  That she’d growled and my brain turned it into words.  But she hadn’t made a sound.” 

Cobb tilted his head.  “That was something you mentioned last night.” 

“I did?”  Din reached under his cuirass and scratched the bite mark; it was suddenly itchy. “I guess it wasn’t a dream after all.” 

“You don’t think it’s strange?”  asked Cobb.  “That this —Rodanthe critter ‘talks’ to you and then the next day Marathel can seemingly control you?” 

Din scoffed.  “The whole damn thing is strange.  A woman can bond with an animal on a biological – chemical – neurological manner to the point where she allegedly loses physical control and goes into a heat cycle?  And drags me into it as well?”  Din looked up and down the hall.  Seeing no one, Din leaned in towards Cobb.  “She could barely look at me at first, and the next thing I know, she’s wrapping her legs around me and climbing me like a damn tree.” 

“And I’m sure you fought that little wildcat as long as you could,” Cobb said with a smirk, but then he sobered.  “You can’t think she’s been manipulating you.” 

“I know she’s not telling me everything.”  Din scratched the bite wound again.  “I know she’s lied to me.  I probably … shouldn’t have told her I love her yesterday.” 

Cobb rolled his eyes.  “Someone’s got morning-after guilt,” he said with a sigh.  “Look.  You need to fence those coins.  She needs to get better.  Then you two must seriously talk.  And I recommend not starting with, ‘Marry me’. Or whatever it is you Mandalorians do.” 

“Oh? What should I start with?” 

“I suggest you tell her about the land mine to your sack.  That should give you two a lot to talk about.” Cobb shifted sideways. “We should both get going, you know.”  The two men clasped each other’s hands, and Cobb began to walk towards the landing tunnel, whistling.  After about 5 meters or so, Cobb turned and said, “Man, you didn’t even tell me about the land mine.  That’s classic.”  Din shot him the finger, and Cobb walked off, laughing. 

After Cobb had left, Din heard the pounding of feet and happy shrieks of children coming from the opposite direction.  He turned, and a whole passel of kids were running full tilt straight for him; one of the taller girls was carrying Grogu on her shoulders.  Upon seeing Din, Grogu squealed and leapt from the girl’s shoulders to Din’s arms, doing a forward flip in mid-air.  The other children cheered; the noise went right through Din’s helmet and exploded somewhere behind his hung-over eyeballs.  One of the boys yelled, “Let’s get something to eat!”, leading the other kids to run to the kitchen.   

Grogu bounced on Din’s arm, chanting, “Mama? Mama?  Mama?” while slapping Din’s cuirass with his little hand.   

Din took hold of Grogu’s hand, shaking his head.  “We haven’t heard anything yet, little guy.” 

Grogu scowled and jerked his hand away.  “MAMA!”  

“I want to know how she is just as much as you do, buddy, but … Mama needs to go far away for a little while.  She needs special doctors who can help her.  Special … secret doctors.” 

Grogu grunted, his face in a deep frown.  “See-kit.” 

“See-kit, that’s right,” said Din, a flush of pride going through him at Grogu saying another word.  That’s my boy.  Din held Grogu close, pressing his helmet to the little green fuzzy head.  “What say we go fly while we wait?” 

“Fy!” 

“Wizard.  Let’s go.” 

Fennec got a message from the medi-droid that Marathel was waking up.  She got into the room just in time to see Marathel roll to her side, rubbing her eyes.  Fennec sat back down on the stool next to the cot.  “Doing better?”  Marathel still looked distressed, but she nodded.  “Can you tell me what upset you so much?” 

Marathel swallowed and closed her eyes.  “He lied to me.  The Bounty Hunter.” 

We’re back to calling him Bounty Hunter.  Dank ferrik.  “What did he lie to you about?” 

“The Bounty Hunter still had the coins.  He was … he was supposed to give them to his covert, but he still had them!” 

Fennec sighed inwardly.  “He gave me some of the coins to pay for your treatment, wherever it is we’re going.” 

“But he’s not supposed to still have them!  Why would he lie to me about what he was going to do? “ 

Maker, save me.  “Marathel … please consider that there is a perfectly logical explanation.” 

Marathel sniffled.  “Like what?” 

“Perhaps the covert wouldn’t accept them.  Those coins are … very old, and they don’t exactly work as money anymore.  Perhaps Din needs to find a buyer for the coins so he can exchange them for usable money.” 

“Then why give them to you?” 

“Well, it’s not as if we had a lot of time to figure things out.  We needed cash in hand for whomever these Reconstructionists are.  Now, please, Marathel, please try to stay calm. Try to not worry about every damn thing so much!” 

Marathel colored and looked away.  “I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.   

“Don’t be sorry.  Be calm. Be quiet, and we will all get through this,” hissed Fennec, near the end of her own rope.  

Marathel took a shaky breath.  “Yes, Fennec,” she said in such a conciliatory tone Fennec felt bad for snapping at her.  Fennec dropped her face into her hands for a while, upset herself.  Now she had these damned coins to deal with.  Either this Bishop was completely daft, or the men on that planet had no clue what those coins were worth.  When Boba had first shown them to her, Fennec insisted they first count them, just so she could feel the gold in her hands, and then they spread out the coins on the bed and … well, rolled around on them a while.  They had quite a time locating all the coins after that. 

Fennec still had no idea where they were going — the Modifier was being very tight-lipped about that — but she needed something to go on in case she needed to find buyers for the coins herself, and she was already nervous about this whole escapade going sideways. 

Fennec looked up at Marathel, who had been quiet for some time now.  Marathel’s face was as blank as fresh quarried slate.  Her eyes were unfocused, and her breathing was slow, her head slightly tilted to one side, her lips slightly parted. The slack look on her face put Fennec in the mind of someone who was mentally challenged, or in a fugue state.  Fennec shook Marathel’s arm.  “Marathel? Are you all right?” 

 Marathel’s pupils constricted, and she blinked.  “I’m fine, I’m fine, I was just … being still.” 

“That’s what you mean by be still?  You just… check out and go into a near-trance?” 

“Yes, it … it quiets the mind when they… make you do things to them.” 

“Make you do things to whom, Marathel?” 

Marathel took a shaky breath.  “The Elders … the Bishop, of course.” 

Fennec felt uneasy.  “Even before you left the Hold?” 

“Ever since I can remember,” said Marathel, matter-of-factly.  Fennec nodded.  She thought so, but it was still painful for her to have it confirmed.  No wonder Marathel was so wounded.  The poor woman’s never had a damn chance.  Fennec was wracked with guilt for her unkind thoughts about the silver-haired woman.  “Fennec?  Don’t pity me.” 

Fennec nodded again, and angrily swiped her knuckles under her eyes. “I should check your wounds.” 

“Fennec ...” said Marathel, reaching for her hand.  “My wounds are not getting worse, nor will they get better with anything you can do.  Just … sit with me, please.”  Fennec held Marathel’s hand, and in her eyes, Fennec could only see a kind of … sad tranquility that spoke of defeat. “Tell me again what I’m to say if they question me.” 

“You’re to say that you managed to escape from a Red Room; that you don’t know where you are, or how you got there.” 

“Yes, a Red Room.  I couldn’t remember.  I was thinking Dark Room.  What is a Red Room?” 

“I don’t think you need to know that, Marathel.” 

“I think I should know … I should know about what lies I need to tell.” 

Fennec sighed.  “A Red Room is where … people pay to watch and/or participate in the torture and killing of … another person.” 

Marathel furrowed her brow.  “Why in the name of Frith do things like that exist?” 

“It’s a sick, sad, galaxy.  I’d like to say it’s gotten better recently, but … not really.” 

“Is a Red Room always red?  Or is it named … because of the blood spilled there?”  Marathel sighed.  “I suppose that doesn’t matter.”  She closed her eyes for a moment.  “I miss my little hut.  Life was so simple there.  Make bread, set traps for food.  Weave if I wanted, pick flowers if I wanted, do flat-out nothing if I wanted.  Even when … Din and Grogu showed up, it was still such a lovely uncomplicated life.  Made them meals, sewed their clothes.  Made them bread.  I made more bread for those two in that short time than I would ever make for myself in three moon cycles, those greedy guts.”  Both women chuckled.  “And I got to pretend I had my own family.  We had fun, the three of us.  I even got to hear Din laugh.” 

Fennec pulled a face.  “I don’t believe that man knows how to laugh.” 

“He did!  He laughed at me; that’s why I had to throw eggs at him.”  Marathel launched into the story of the morning she wore her yellow dress and ended up in a tree because she had the temerity to scold a Jedi toddler.  By the time Marathel was demonstrating where Din’s hands had ended up on her breasts as she dropped down from the lowest branch, Fennec was near howling with laughter.  “So, I chucked an egg right at his helmet.  Splat!” 

“Oh, kriffing hell!  Then what?” 

“He said that I should be a … oh, what did he say … a storm …?” 

“A Stormtrooper?” 

“Yes!  What is that?” 

“A soldier of the most useless variety.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Should I have been insulted by that?” 

“Absolutely you should have.” 

Marathel giggled.  “Good thing I hit him with another egg and told him to piss up a rope.”  Fennec laughed.   “I stomped all the way back to my hut; I was that angry.  Later, Grogu brought me flowers, and Din brought me my favorite fruit to apologize.  No man had ever given me a gift before.”  Marathel smiled.  “The next day, Din made me breakfast.  The man made a meal for me.  Never had I considered a man would do such a thing.  We weren’t allowed to eat what we made for the men, not even the scraps from their plates.  But Din cooked for me.” 

Fennec smiled as well.  And we’re back to calling him Din.  “Men can be different when they’re from other places.” 

Marathel was silent for a while.  “I didn’t even know that there were other places until Din told me.  I didn’t believe him.  How was I supposed to understand that a tiny point of light in the sky was another big place like the one I lived on?” 

“Well, not all those points of light are planets.  There are also stars.” 

“He said that too, but I don’t know what a star is.  I don’t understand half of everything he said to me.  He probably thought I was quite dumb, which is true … I don’t know much.”  Marathel sighed.  “When he asked me to come with him, it terrified me, because I knew I would only be a burden to him.” 

“Din asked you to leave your planet with him?” 

“Yes … we had been digging clams, even though clams make him sick, but he didn’t tell me that.  I was dancing in the water with Grogu, and Din put his arm around me, held me close …  and said I should go with him and leave the Aurodium behind.” 

My, my. “But you said no.” 

“What else in Frith was I supposed to say?  I was already ruined, I’m … nothing.  I’m plain, fat, and stupid.  Sullied.  Filth.”  Marathel sobbed, tears running down her face.  She rolled over to her side and curled up in despair.  “And I knew I was going to finally die — just sooner than later — but I also knew if I could help him in some way, then … my life could have meant something to someone.  Even just for a few days, to a frightening man made of metal and his little green boy.  I love Grogu so much, Fennec.  And he’s calling me Mama.  He shouldn’t be doing that.  Not someone like me.” Marathel was weeping again, to her dismay.  She was so tired of weeping but could not stop any more than she could stop her slow loss of blood.  Fennec held Marathel’s hand and said nothing.  She had heard things like Marathel spoke of before, and no number of words to the contrary would change Marathel’s mind in her current state.  Not all fears or hurts or ugly thinking could be slayed with logic.  

After some time, when Marathel’s current storm seemed to have passed, Fennec asked, “So, what did Din say to you when he came in here?” 

Marathel sniffled and scrubbed her nose with her hand.  “Well, he turned off the lights, and then I felt something heavy drop on my lap.  It wasn’t until he was kissing me that I realized it was his helmet.” 

Fennec gave a small smile.  “So, he did kiss you.” 

Marathel’s cheeks flushed.  “Did you know how heavy those helmets are?  I thought he tossed a rock on me.” 

Fennec rolled her eyes with a chuckle.  “So, he did kiss you.” 

Marathel shyly dropped her gaze.  “Yes.” 

“And what did he say?” 

“He said …” Marathel took a breath.  “He said, ‘I love you, Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, nothing else matters.’” 

“And what does ma’mwsh ha’laa mean again?” 

“‘Wounded acorn.’” 

Fennec chuckled again.  “That’s so adorable it’s almost sickening.  What was the kiss like?” 

Marathel frowned.  “Hard.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Hard.  He pressed his mouth very hard to mine.”  Marathel put her fingers to her own lips; they were almost tingling with the memory.  “But I could tell he had a mustache.  And I touched his cheek; he had facial hair, and his skin was soft.  He had told me his eyes were brown, and I saw his brown hair once, briefly … he was throwing up the clams in the tall grass, and I could just see the top of his head.” 

Fennec wasn’t about to tell her she had gotten a glimpse of him without his helmet; it probably would upset her, and Din wasn’t looking his particular best at the time, what with the concussion and the blood everywhere. “Din doesn’t sound like he’s very good at kissing.” 

“I wouldn’t know.  Kissing is only for Diwhyns and babies where I’m from.”  Marathel glanced sideways at Fennec.  “I suppose Boba is a good kisser?” 

Fennec’s head snapped up.  “Excuse me?” 

Marathel squeezed Fennec’s hand.  “Boba Fett is good to you, isn’t he?” 

It was Fennec’s turn to blush.  “I didn’t think we were that obvious.” 

“Well, I noticed.  And if I noticed, I’m sure Cobb did too.”  Fennec groaned.  “And Silnima knows too, but I don’t think anything gets past that woman.” 

“And that’s why she’s such a good Headwoman.   She would love it if you’d stay at the palace once you’re well.  She has designs on you being her chief baker.”  

Marathel curled her lip.  “I don’t know if I want to be a kitchen drudge for the rest of my life.” 

“No one’s talking about forever, just for right now, for kriff’s sake.” Fennec sighed.  “So how do you feel about Din?  Do you share his feelings?” 

Marathel thought for a while before answering.  “I told him that I loved him before I went into the Hold; at least, as much as I knew how to love anyone.  I know that I’m grateful for him, grateful that he took me away from there.  But … it’s … it’s his Creed I’m having trouble with.” 

Fennec frowned.  “What do you mean?” 

“The day before he took me to the Hold, I asked him if he would take off his helmet, that he could have me if he wished,” — Fennec frowned at this — “but … without the helmet, so that I would have his face as a last memory.  He said no, of course.  He told me that his affection for me was less than his devotion to his Creed.  And I suppose I understood that, but then … he asked if I would sleep next to him, so he could hold me, caress me while he slept.  Fondle me.  As if I were only a toy.  Not a person.  Certainly not an equal.”  Marathel sighed.  “Perhaps he does love me, but … I’m afraid I will always be in the shadow of his Creed.  That shadow may be too cold for me to bear.” 

“Well, Marathel, that’s certainly a valid thing for you to feel.”  Fennec patted her arm.  “It seems like you two have much to discuss.” 

“I wouldn’t know how to even begin.” 

“The truth is usually the best place to start.  But … for now I suggest you concentrate on what’s coming up with these Reconstructionists.  Okay?”  Marathel nodded, then sat up enough to hug Fennec hard.  Fennec hugged her back.  “It’s going to be okay, Marathel.” 

“I hope so.”  And she did. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter->

[moralesispunk]

The Fire Between Us

Chapter Five - Burn

[Masterlist] [Chapter Four] Din Djarin x Female Mandalorian Reader Summary: When you return to the Covert the reality of your actions finally hits home Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: angst (as usual), feelings, kissing, allusions to smut (or heading towards smut) Read on Ao3 here!

It was an entrance you had walked through thousands of times before - one that was hard to find unless you knew exactly what you were looking for; perfectly hidden against the desert landscape to keep the warriors it housed safe from the rest of the galaxy.

Now, as your feet dragged through the sand and slowed your pace so much that even Din - in his injured state - had to pull you along, you followed the same path you had walked more times than you could count. It was the same path you followed when you were coming back from a trip to the market or a week long bounty hunt; your legs taking you across the bare land towards the dip in the ground that led straight down to the dark tunnels of the Covert.

It was a familiar feeling of coming home every time you stepped over the threshold into the Covert, one that you usually welcomed with open arms, yet it was a feeling that was missing now as you inched closer and closer to the entrance.

In this moment you wanted nothing more than to run in the other direction, as far as you could from the Covert until your legs were aching and you had no memory of home or Din… or the unsaid vow you have now shared: by the end of tomorrow, no matter how much he hated the idea of it and no matter how guilty you felt, Din would most likely be your riddur and there was nothing either of you could do about it.

Thoughts of running away or finding a way to free Din from this obligation were swarming your mind until the very last second when the entrance came into view. There was someone resting by the entrance, a small body that you had to squint against the setting sun to see, and as you got closer the person became a small child - newly fitted to their armor - who perked up the second your three bodies appeared over the horizon.

They quickly pushed themselves up to stand, taking a moment to confirm that they weren’t imagining you, Din and Adrean coming home, before they ran back inside and their yells somehow made their way through the wind as they alerted the Covert to your arrival. 

There was no way you could turn and walk away now the whole Covert would be expecting your arrival, no matter how heavy the weight in the pit of your stomach grew.

There had barely been a word uttered between the three of you since you met Adrean this morning, the only words shared being when you or Adrean needed to fix the way Din’s weight rested over your shoulder or when you forced Din to rest and drink the last of your water. You stayed silent as your boots scuffed against the ramp that led down into the Covert and even when the quiet murmuring from the Hall met your ears as you rounded the last corner before you would be met with applause.

It was suddenly hard to breathe with the looming fate of Din being forced to take you as riddur just around the corner and you tried to stop walking any closer but Din pulled you along by his side.

“Din,” you gasped his name but he made no effort to acknowledge you, instead his arm weighed heavy on your shoulder as he pulled you into the hall along with him and Adrean.

The roar of applause was almost deafening, so loud that your head began to pound and your eyes squeezed shut. The cheers of your names were bouncing off of the walls and soon the crowd was parting down the middle to show a clear path to the Armorer who stood tall at the other end. As you welcomed the celebration, Din’s weight slipped from your shoulder and he tried to stand on his two feet to accept the praise along with you and Adrean.

With every helmet trained on you - or more likely Din - it became even harder to breathe and between the chants of welcome you found your lips parting as you whispered his name again.

“Din.”

If he heard you above the cheers and chants he showed no sign of it. 

Your eyes ran up his injured body from his leg that was limping with every other step to his fingers that were squeezed around his thumb so tight you could hear the leather wince under the pressure; from his side where the armor was broken all the way to his helmet that was hiding the face you now knew.

His sharp jaw, his dark facial hair and strong nose, his plump lips and his dark eyes that you had not seen the night before but had been a main presence in your dreams for years.

Even though he seemed to hide his physical pain well enough that no one was rushing to help, it was impossible to ignore the anger radiating off of him. His shoulders were held tight and his helmet was trained forward even as you desperately whispered his name again.

“Din, please.”

“Not. Now.” His helmet didn’t move as he answered you through gritted teeth and it caused your own to face back to the front.

As your bottom lip wobbled and your eyes glazed over with unshed tears you were thankful for the wall of beskar between you and the rest of the Covert.

Din somehow managed to march ahead and you fell in line with Adrean who reached for your hand, his fingers tangling with yours as he gave one strong squeeze.

“All will work out, Vod.”

You squeezed his hand back before dropping it, forcing your shoulders high as you sped up enough to catch up to Din and find yourself standing before the Armorer at the same time as him. You know what you did was wrong - one of the worst things that could have happened to Din - but he couldn’t refuse to speak to you ever again. 

You needed time alone with Din to explain yourself. You didn’t have the words this morning - you barely had the words now after repeating a speech over and over in your head the whole trek home - but he needed to know that you didn’t do this make him your riddur. You did this because the thought of doing nothing as he died in your arms was enough to make your stomach churn and heart drop; if you had held him as he took his final breath then you were certain Adrean would have found you in a similar fate the next morning.

The Armorer raised her hand to silence the Hall before you could spiral any further and it was an almost eerie feeling as it happened, the hairs on your arms standing on end as her steady voice began to echo around the room.

“We Mandalorian strive to be the bravest and strongest warriors we can be. The three before me now…” Her helmet tilted down as she spoke the next words to you. “Are the perfect example of who we train to be.”

Her words were like salt to your wound, reminding you that what you had done was the exact opposite of what she expected of Mandalorians.

As her words settled around the room, making your body shake with nerves and causing Din’s to tense even further, the rest of the room met them with a roar of applause. It was even louder than the welcome you had received only a few moments ago - louder than the dragon that had lunged down at you the day before - and your head was spinning as you tried to block it out.

“We will celebrate tonight!” The Armorer called above the noise but as she tried to step away Din jumped forward and placed a hand on her arm to stop her from stepping any further back.

Your body froze as he bent his helmet down to shout loud enough for the Armorer to hear but not loud enough for you or Adrean standing behind him to make out. Her helmet slowly turned to face you, nodding once before Din’s hand dropped down and she turned on her heels.

Everyone else in the room was too busy celebrating to notice their conversation, or to notice how you desperately turned to Adrean and begged silently for help. You tried to step towards Adrean but he was being pulled back into the celebration as a firm hand wrapped around your wrist.

When your head whipped back round you were faced with the back of Din’s helmet, his broad shoulders tight as he began to pull you behind him to follow the Armorer out of the room.

It was disorientating as you stepped out of the bright and loud hall into the dark and silent tunnels as Din continued to drag you behind him. You knew better than to say anything now, pressing your lips together to stop the desperate apologies or practiced explanation from coming out as you tried to keep up with their quick steps.

Even though you had walked these halls since you were a child, and you knew you would be able to make your way through them blindfolded, with your eyes trained on Din’s helmet that refused to turn and look back at you, you had no idea where you were going. 

It felt like the three of you were walking in silence for hours before the Armorer finally slipped into a room and Din stepped aside to usher you into the room in front of him.

When you walked by him and desperately tried to catch his gaze he only ushered you in faster, his hand pressing on the bottom of your back as you stepped into the room and he followed with a click of the door behind. His hand had only been there for a second, falling away the moment the door closed, but his touch had your whole body lighting up as you stood tight by his side and faced the Armorer.

“Both of you…” The Armorer began with her back turned, heavy and fur-trimmed cloak touching the floor between her and you. “Have been the two strongest, and most determined, Mandalorians I have ever had the chance to meet. You have trained for years and have never failed in showing me how dedicated you are to the way.”

She turned back around and you felt both you and Din stand taller under her gaze.

“I do not know why you did what you did.” Her helmet turned to face you and your shoulders turned in on themselves. “But there is a way that this can be… erased. We will have you take one another as riddur.”

The Armorer’s words rang in your ears, your head spinning beneath your helmet. It was as though you could not gasp a breath of air in, your hand reaching for the closest thing to steady yourself - and finding your hand wrapping around Din’s wrist - before his words cut through the silence. 

“Then we will wed tomorrow, at dusk.”

You knew this was what would happen. It was the only thing that could happen. But still you couldn't breathe. 

“This is the way,” the Armorer spoke quietly.

“This is the way,” you and Din replied, your words barely audible.

The Armorer brushed past you as she walked towards the door and you tried to pull Din to stay, your fingers gripping his wrist with your voice caught in your throat, but he slipped from your hold as he followed her out without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

He had left you alone.

The candles in the corner did little to light the small space and your body fell back against the wall behind you, your helmet digging into the rough wall as you bit down on your bottom lip while trying not to cry.

The silence didn’t last long and soon the sound of heavy footsteps coming your way echoed around the room as you squeezed your eyes shut and silently begged them to keep walking past this room. Please, please, please, just go you muttered under your breath, but they never did; the footsteps came to an abrupt stop and the sound of the door opening made you look up.

Your father was standing in the doorway with Adrean and your mother behind him, their three helmets unmoving as you stared back.

“Oh, Vod,” Adrean sighed, brushing past your father and bringing you into his arms.

“You-you tried to tell me. You-” 

You were gasping for breath as his hand ran up and down your back, your parents coming to rest their hands on your shoulders as you fought for air. 

“Shhh, shhh, it's okay,” Adrean sighed. 

No one else spoke or made any attempt to move until your breathing settled and the tears stopped and they only stood back from you when you lifted your head from Adrean.

“There will be a marriage?” Your father asked and you nodded your helmet once. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” you whispered back. 

“You will come back and stay with us tonight.” Your mother stepped forward, taking your hand in hers as she began to pull you to follow her. 

There was nothing they could say that would make you feel better - any less guilty - and so you were glad they stuck to their silence for the rest of the night. 

Your father and brother brought you dinner and your mother stayed quietly by your side as you ate. You usually hated their hovering, hated when they tip-toed around what they wanted to say, but for once you were glad. 

You just needed them to be near you and that was enough. 

By the time night came you were crawling into your childhood bed and watched as Adrean did the same, his tall frame almost folding in half as he tried to find a way to lie comfortably. 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Adrean said as you both stared up at the ceiling. 

You turned to face him, your brows pulling together as you wondered what it could be he was talking about, but he went on before you had to ask. 

“If I implied that you shouldn't have done what you did… I just wanted you to take a second and think. And you decided that even knowing how you would feel after it that you had to do it… you made the right decision.”

“And now Din hates me,” you replied quietly. 

“He doesn't. He could never. He's just… he's feeling a lot of things and he doesn't know how to even begin going about dealing with them.”

“He could talk to me. He could listen to what I have to say,” you bit back and Adrean finally turned to look at you. 

“Did you? When he left for a year and came back, did you listen to what he had to say?”

You turned back around and wiped angrily at the tears that were threatening to spill over. You know he's right and it just makes you… sad. 

Sad that for years you and Din have been too stubborn to do anything other than hate each other. 

You could see Adrean hold his hand out from the corner of your eye and sighed as you slipped your hand into his. 

“It will be okay,” he whispered and you nodded, closing your eyes as you hoped that you could at least dream without having to think of Din. 

*****

When you woke again it was almost midday and there was only your mother in the room. She was already pouring a bath, her body moving slowly as she tipped the pot of warmed water into the tub before taking a moment to catch her breath. 

“Let me,” you said, pushing yourself up and taking the pot from her hand.

She had long given in to you, your father and brother's attempts to stop her from pushing herself too far. When she first started to become weaker she fought against it so hard she only made herself ill and so now she sat back - but not without a loud sigh and mumble under her breath. 

“You are to meet with Din and the Armorer in a few hours,” she said and you nodded without turning to face her. “I got Adrean to fetch your rose soap too,” she added. 

“Thank you.”

You didn't feel as bad this morning as you did last night. The guilt still weighed heavy in your stomach but Adrean - as usual - had found the right words to say. 

It had taken you a while to begin to forgive Din for leaving you and you were thankful he hadn't pushed you to accept it any faster. It's what you had to do now. 

The silence fell over you both until the tub was filled and your mother began to scrub your armor as you slipped inside. With the warm water surrounding you, you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your cheek against your knee.

“You know this…  this could be good.”

You couldn’t stop the way you scoffed and your mother’s head snapped around to face you.

It was almost unnerving how much she looked like Adrean. Or Adrean, her. She had the same fiery hair and green eyes, fewer freckles but a similar wide smile. It was pure coincidence but you liked seeing them sit by one another when you were alone together, helmets off as they laughed over something. But as alike they looked in happiness they looked even more alike in anger.

Their hair seemed to burn brighter and their eyes darken, a look that made you realize you were facing a warrior.

“You are stubborn; you always have been. You would fight ade twice, sometimes three times, your size and no matter how hard you got hit you would always get back up again. I think…” She sighed. “I think maybe your father and I made a mistake in telling you how… how… good that was.”

“So would you rather I had given up?”

She sent another glare your way that told you she wasn’t done talking and you pursed your lips together.

“Never. But sometimes it is okay to give in.” When you didn’t answer she went on. “Are you telling me that you truly, from the bottom of your soul, hate Din Djarin? That these aren’t feelings of love that you are too stubborn to admit to because love, perhaps, makes you weak?”

You didn’t answer again and pressed your cheek harder against your knee but your mother raised one frail hand up to hold your cheek.

“Love does not make you weak, my child. It makes you strong. It gives you the motivation to fight for yourself and your family.

“Your father was always the better warrior out of us but the second we found you I had something to fight for. Every time I left the Covert I made sure that I would come home, that I would never let you be left motherless again. And when we found Adrean I only became stronger.”

You didn’t move to wipe the tears that now flowed down your cheeks and your mother quickly wiped them away.

“You do not have to say anything but just… think about it.”

You nodded and when you spoke now it was barely a whisper. “I’m so scared.”

“Of what?” She asked with a slight head tilt.

“Of how much I think I might love him.”

“That is the best kind of love,” she smiled softly, dropping her hand and going back to your armor. 

You let her words surround you before breathing out and reaching for the cloth, scrubbing your body as the evening loomed closer. 

When your father and Adrean returned, your family fell into silence once more and left you to get ready. They each gave you one last glance before leaving the room as you stood in the center; freshly shined armor covering you from the neck down as you waited to place the last piece - your helmet - on and go to repeat the vows you have both dreaded and dreamt of your whole life.

The walk to the Hall seemed to go on forever, or maybe that was your slow pace that left Din and your family waiting until you finally forced yourself to step into the dark Hall.

Din was standing before the Armorer while your father, mother and Adrean were standing along the wall as they watched on. Everyone else’s head in the room was turned towards you except the most important, the only one you were looking at had no interest in turning towards you until you stopped in front of him and tilted your head up to stare into his visor.

You wanted to scream. To yell. To beg him to say something; anything.

You would rather he told you just how much he hated you than left you feeling like this. But then Adrean’s words rang through your head and you relaxed your shoulders as you reminded yourself to give him time.

“A strong union,” the Armorer said, nodding her head once before holding up a silk-like rope.

Din held his arm out first, the rest of his body held stiffly as you wrapped your hand around his forearm and after a moment of deliberation he did the same back. The Armorer tied the rope around your joined arms once and then twice before standing back.

For a moment, neither you or Din spoke. Your visors stared back at one another and his grip seemed to tighten around your arm slightly before you both began to speak.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

Your words echoed around the room together and your own hold on Din began to tighten.

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

Din’s arm pulled ever so slightly to bring you closer towards him, both of your voices dropping to whispers as you spoke the final vow.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

The Armorer stepped forward and unbound your arms, nodding silently as an acceptance of the riddurship.

“You will return to your room - your new room - and complete the ceremony alone.”

The whole day was never how you would have imagined it. If someone had told eighteen year old you that one day you would have been marrying Din Djarin you would have pretended to gag before running back to your room and twirling around at the thought of how his voice would sound saying those vows. Now, as you stared back into his icy glare you almost wished that you were watching him repeat those words to someone else.

It would be easier to watch him marry someone else than know for certain just how much he hated marrying you.

When the Armorer untied your wrists, and your father, mother and Adrean bid you goodbye, you walked back to your new room behind Din. He never turned back the whole walk there, barely walked slow enough for you to keep up, and he only just held the curtain open long enough for you to follow him inside.

Long story short, there really wasn't much else he could be doing to tell you how angry he was other than utter the words. 

When you stepped inside your jaw fell open. The room was larger than yours, larger than what Din’s would have been too.

It was a room made for a clan, for a family, and so there was the main room you walked into that was still mostly bare except for the few piles of fur blankets and cushions and the bedroom that Din was now walking into.

You followed a few steps behind and immediately your eyes landed on the one large bed covered in throws and blankets that lay in the center of the room. It’s where Din was focused on too if you followed the gaze of his helmet, his hands once again clenching into fists by his side.

“Din, I just want you to know-” You started but Din held his hand up, his visor turning to face you.

“Just- Just stop,” he said, his voice straining.

You tried to remind yourself of Adreans words, of your mothers, but your own stubbornness clamored up and you stepped towards him.

“You’ll have to listen to me at some point, Din. We are bound together, for life.”

“And whose fault is that?” He hissed, turning and stepping towards you.

“Din, I am sorry,” you said, forcing your voice to stay low as you held your hands out. “I am sorry that you are now stuck with me because I know that this is the last thing you wanted. You made that very clear when you begged the Armorer for a life alone over a life with me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

Din laughed.

It wasn’t the laugh you would be able to recognise in a room full of laughter, one you yearned to hear and when you were the cause of it a pride swarmed your belly. This laugh was cold, distant, and you could feel his anger as he stared back at you.

“Do you really think that’s why? That I don’t want a life with you?”

“I…” You shrugged and your own anger was already bubbling up to your chest. “Is it not?”

Din turned and ripped his helmet from his head, running his hand down his face. You could only see the back of his head, his curls neater and softer than they had been a few days before, but you had to squeeze your hands into fist to stop yourself from reaching out to run your fingers through them. 

“Is it not?” You said louder this time, stepping towards him again. “If it isn’t then you may as well tell me why because, Din, I have no idea-”

“It is because I love you,” Din hissed and turned so fast you stumbled back, your hands landing on the shelf behind to steady yourself.

The room was only lit by a few candles and yet the orange glow was enough for you to make out his features. His eyes were burning as they stared into yours, his mouth agape as his breathing grew ragged. 

“What?” You croaked.

Din stepped closer until his chest plate was pressed against yours, until you were leaning back over the shelf as his face dipped so close you could feel his breath fan your face as you stared into his dark brown eyes. “I love you. And I hate that I love you. I love you so much that it hurts and that scares me; it scares me that sometimes - all of the time - you are the only thing I can think of and to think that if I let myself have you there will come a time I will lose you? It would be easier to not have you at all.”

His chest was rising and falling with each angry breath and his cheeks were flushed pink as his eyes searched yours.

“Why would you lose me?” You asked, only able to bring yourself to whisper the words.

“Because I lose everyone. I lost my parents. And my parents loved each other more than anyone I’ve ever seen. My father told my mother he would always protect her and then he had to watch her, who he loved more than anything, die.”

His voice, his usually strong and determined voice, shook more and more with each word he said and it made your heart shatter in your chest.

“Din…” You lifted your hand to hold his cheek and he closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch.

“I burn for you,” he whispered so quietly you could barely hear it.

His eyes were still squeezed shut and the blush of pink started to drain from his face. You took a moment to truly look at him.

His eyes that were hidden from you but were surrounded by a few wrinkles at the side - signs of a smile that you realized you hadn’t seen since you were ade. His cheeks were slightly hollower than they had been two days before and you wondered if he had struggled to sleep while you were so exhausted you couldn’t help but sleep. His lips were pink and pouting but with marks on the bottom lip where he had dug his teeth into. His jaw was sharp, slightly more stubble there now, and his mustache covered his top lip.

He was so much more than you could have ever imagined.

You let your hand fall from his face and his eyes slipped open. They were softer now, his brows pulling together as you reached for your own helmet.

When you were young you had imagined that when you first showed your riddur your face you would have been nervous of what they thought, if they would be happy or disappointed, but now all those thoughts were silenced and the only one was that you needed Din to see your eyes when you spoke again.

His mouth fell open when you finally lifted it from your head, your hands shaking as you placed it on the shelf behind you, and you watched as his eyes began to fill with unshed tears.

“Din… I have spent years, almost my whole life, pretending to hate you and… it’s exhausting. I-” You shook your head as you tried to find the words. “You infuriate me and make me say and do things I never thought I would but- but I love you.”

Din gasped and his hands came to settle on your waist, his whole body pressing against yours as you looked up to him.

It was like everything seemed to slow down as you lifted yourself to stand on your toes as his head dipped down, his nose bumping against your own and his lips barely brushing against yours as you stayed there for a moment. Neither of you made an attempt to move closer as his breathing calmed but then suddenly you moved together and his mouth pressed against yours.

You could feel his breath fan your cheek as his nose pressed against your skin, his hand coming to settle against your back as he pulled you against him ever so slightly.

It was obvious that this was the first time either of you had kissed someone, neither of you moving for a fraction too long before his tongue grazed against your bottom lip and you opened yourself to him. It was a mess of tongue and teeth as your hands came up to hold the back of his neck and pull him even closer against you until his nose was pressing against your cheek and his hands were gripping your back and molding your body against his.

It was desperate and messy… and it felt perfectly right.

“You are… so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips.

He walked you back until the shelf was digging into the bottom of your back but the pain disappeared the second his lips trailed down your neck, his hand roughly holding your jaw as he pressed his body as close as he could to you while bending down enough to kiss and bite up your neck.

It was setting off a fire in the pit of your belly, one that made you feel out of control of your body as you parted your legs a little wider so his thigh could slip in between.  

“I can’t think when I’m around you,” he mumbled against your skin and your hands found their way into his hair. 

His hands slid down your side and gripped your hips as he pulled you closer against him.

This was what you needed - you needed Din to take you as his. It was fast, exciting, scary, arousing, amazing, new.

Your hips seemed to move of their own accord and you rocked down against his thigh. Your head tipped back and you moaned in a way that shocked even you, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to try and silence them. 

“Don't,” Din’s voice strained and he shook his head against your neck as he kissed back up your jaw. His lips brushed against yours when you spoke again, his fingers that had been freed from his gloves at some point traced across your bottom lip as his eyes that were now blown back zeroed in on it. “Don't hide that from me.”

You rocked your hips experimentally again and couldn't stop the soft moan that brushed past your lips again, the sound making Din’s mouth hang open as he ground against your hip. 

His mouth was suddenly pressed against yours and your hands flew up to hold his jaw, both of your bodies pressed as close as possible to one another. 

But then his fingers began to unclasp the armor on your thighs and suddenly everything that had been exciting and new was just fast and scary and your nerves overtook your arousal. 

“Wait. Din, stop,” you mumbled against his lips. 

Immediately he stopped, his hands dropping to his side as he took a large enough step back to separate your bodies.

“Are you okay?”

You took a slow breath before nodding and watched as Din’s body seemed to relax along with yours. You forced your eyes not to tear up as you took in the large gap between your bodies, your hands coming to grip the shelf behind as you breathed out slowly. 

“I’m sorry, I just- this is just so-”

“Fast.” Din finished for you and you nodded. “We- we don't have to.” He stepped slowly forward and held your wrists in his hand, lifting them and pressing a kiss to both. His eyes flicked between both of yours, watching as you slowly took in what he had said. “Tonight… tonight we can just sleep. I can sleep in the other room.”

“I- I- I’m sorry, I-”

You felt dizzy. He had barely spoke to you for days and had been so angry with you… but then he told you he loved you and then he had been desperate in his want for you and now he was being so gentle and-

“Breathe,” he said quietly, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek. “Don’t apologise. We can take this day by day.”

You nodded against his palm, closing your eyes for a moment. 

If there is one thing you have always done, it is trust in Din Djarin. You've hated and loved him, appreciated and been annoyed by him, laughed and cried over him, but you've always trusted him. 

“Good?” He asked quieter. 

“Good.” You nodded, opening your eyes. 

He leaned forward slightly and you held your breath but when his lips pressed gently against your forehead your whole body relaxed. 

“I will be just in there,” he mumbled against your skin before stepping back, reaching for his helmet and walking back into the main room. 

The exhaustion of the past few days finally hit and you just managed to get off all your armor before crawling into your new bed and pulling the sheets and blankets up to your neck. 

Despite being tired, no matter how many times you closed your eyes and tried to force your mind to rest, sleep never came.

You tossed and turned, threw the covers off and pulled them back on, got up and walked to the doorway only to run back into bed.

You found yourself pushing your weight up again, swinging your legs round until your feet landed on the cold floor as you slipped off the bed. 

I’ll count to ten then I will go get him. The words were spinning around your head so much that you found yourself counting to a hundred before you finally walked to the doorway, forcing yourself to step into the main room before you could stop yourself.

“Din?” You whispered.

You waited a minute until the rustling came, Din’s weight pushing up until he was looking across the room at you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice deep from sleep and luring you closer to him as you stopped at the end of the makeshift bed he was lying on.

“I- I can’t sleep.”

He didn’t say anything but sat up higher as his forearms rested on his knees.

“Can you come to bed?” You went on, whispering so quietly you weren’t sure how he heard you.

“Are you sure?” He whispered back almost as quietly. 

“Please,” you said.

More rustling came as he sat up, blowing out the candle that was still lit on the shelf by his bed as he stood in front of you. You slipped your hand into his warm one before you could stop yourself and began to pull him behind you.

“Maker, you’re cold,” Din mumbled, walking faster to overtake and pull you along behind him.

There were still a few candles lit in the bedroom giving you the first glance at Din’s bare skin. He was only in a pair of black boxers, his muscles tensing with each step he took towards the bed, and you tried not to look. You couldn't help yourself though, your eyes tracing over the black ink that marked his skin all the way up his arms and back minus a spot between his shoulder blades. 

Din stopped at the end of the bed with his hand still surrounding yours, and you quickly looked up as he turned around to face you. It was obviously the first time he had realised you were almost completely bare save for the thin underwear you were wearing. 

His eyes quickly flicked up to yours, his whole body tense but eyes soft as he leaned forward to press a kiss against your forehead. 

“Slow is good,” he whispered. 

“Slow is good,” you repeated back. 

He reached for the bed sheet, holding it up and nodding his head for you to crawl in before he followed. He seemed to be unsure about how close he should go to you, his body stiff on the other end of the bed, and so you shuffled closer to him. 

You rested your hand on his chest and felt the way his heart seemed to hammer beneath his skin. 

“Is this okay?” You whispered. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice strained. 

After a moment his arm slid beneath you and pulled you tighter against him, your head now resting on his chest and your body pressed to his side. 

“Is this? Okay, I mean,” he asked. 

“Yes,” you whispered back. 

You rested your hand in the center of his chest and began to trace the designs that had been tattooed onto his skin.

Without knowing the story behind them it could have been simple lines, covering the majority of his chest, arms and back too. He stayed quiet as your fingers danced along the lines of ink, his body shivering when you ran down his sides and you both laughed quietly, some of the tension disappearing. 

“The empty spot, on your back…” Your words trailed off and Din raised his hand to rest on the bottom of your back, his fingers dancing along your skin. 

“It’s… it’s for when I have my own clan.” You hummed appreciatively and he down at you. His fingers gently gripped your chin as he tilted your head up to his, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth before he spoke again. “I guess I have one now.”

You tried to bite back your own smile but it was no use. 

The tension in the room seemed to build again and Din cleared his throat, letting your chin go as he pulled you closer against his body. 

“Sleep. It's been a long day,” he said and you nodded against his chest. 

His hand didn’t stop moving until you fell asleep, the gentle lull of his fingers tracing along your back and bringing you closer and closer to sleep without worrying about Din for the first time in years.

//

Finally! These two are finally dealing with their emotions (slowly) - thank you for the patience in the time between updates but I didn't want to just put anything out there and these two mean so much to me

//

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