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misspearly1 · 2 years ago

Text

Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place.

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards.

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind.

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar.

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore.

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din.

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with.

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return.

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business.

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality.

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was.

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own.

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them.

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful.

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers.

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before.

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it.

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back.

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions.

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you.

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge.

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him.

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor.

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian.

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips.

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.”

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest.

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on.

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.”

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.”

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering. “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.”

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word.

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try.

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet.

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting.

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and… foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings.

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles.

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter.

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable.

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm.

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.”

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.”

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.” He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.”

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says.

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…” Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them.

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.”

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different.

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead.

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away.

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips.

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically.

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation.

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.”

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?”

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.”

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.”

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind.

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor.

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.”

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do.

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back.

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin.

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully.

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it.

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder, “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks.

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.”

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.”

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin.

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation.

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.”

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.”

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for.

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked.

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now.

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach.

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.”

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.”

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit.

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine.

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.”

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him.

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge.

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating.

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?”

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.”

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead.

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.”

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too.

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

Tagging:

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handspunyarns · 19 days ago

Text

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-One

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 8K

chapter summary: Marathel awakes from surgery, struggles with her feelings for Din, and tastes her first ice cream

warnings:  angst, mention of female bodily functions and medical issues, past abuse, mention of murder and infanticide, mental illness, 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, wake up.

Marathel was dreaming, and she knew it. She’d been dreaming this same dream for quite some time. And now, a new dream section had been added. Knowing that it was a dream, however, did not assuage her fear or her misery.

In the new part of the dream, which now served as a new beginning to her original dream, she was staggering through the Hold grounds, surrounded by a sea of Dahls, all growling and chattering, saying horrible things to her — saying that she was a whore, that she was a murderer, that it was all her fault that all the boy children were dying, and that she deserved all the anguish she was suffering.

In her dream, Marathel could only speak the Oldtalk, which the girls all learned in the kitchen as the women spoke to each other, an almost secret language to separate themselves from the men, who only used the Oldtalk for pejoratives and cruelty.

As Marathel stumbled, tripping over the blood-hungry Dahls and the corpses of boy babies, she began the apology verse of the only song, brokenly wailing, “Rwy’n wethi tir’ch … Rwy’n  … daererth … {I broke your heart … trust … broken …}”. She ran forward to pick up a boy-child before a Dahl could get to it, but it was ripped from her hands, and she cried out,  “Gorau! Gorau! Na, NID! Gorau, gaal’wch … {Stop! Stop! No, DON’T! Stop, please …}” and began to cry.  She then whimpered,  “Th’ych’lyth, Din Djarin … gaal’wch, gaal’wch th’ych’lyth … {Come back to me, Din Djarin … please, please, come back to me…}”

But Din Djarin would not come back to her and he never would. The Dahls continued to tell her that while filling her head with other horrible things: that it was her fault, that this was all she deserved, that they, the Dahls, were the only ones who ever loved her, Din Djarin did not love her, he’d never loved her, that she was theirs and theirs only.

“ Dwy’ti'n ryl’uff wrtha ei.  Dwy’tu’ar!  Na, nid.  Th’ych’lyth, Din … gaal’wch. {You are lying to me. Liar! No, don’t. Come back to me, Din … please.}”

But Din Djarin did not come back to her, and she was alone in the darkness. The voices of the Dahls kept on, filling her heart and her mind and her soul with their foul words. She was now in a pit of despair so deep that not even the Mandalorian would be able to pull her out. Finally, she dropped to her knees and allowed herself to be swallowed up and drowned by the Dahls.

Marathel, you need to wake up now.

Then, Marathel knew she was back in her original dream. The dream she’d been having since she and Din began the journey back to Unmanarall.

She was standing in a small, dark place, whispering, pleading for forgiveness, “Rwy’n wethi tir’ch … Rwy’n  … daererth … {I broke your heart … trust … broken …}”. There was an open doorway before her, leading to somewhere outside where the sun was bright, but she was in deep darkness, far from the door.

We must leave, she heard Din say, before hearing his heavy boots walking on a metal floor. His silhouette filled the open doorway, and she could see Grogu just over his shoulder, looking away from her.

From her place in the darkness, she cried out,  “Gorau! Gorau! Na, NID! Gorau, gaal’wch … {Stop! Stop! No, DON’T! Stop, please …}” and began to cry.  She then whimpered,  “Th’ych’lyth, Din Djarin … gaal’wch, gaal’wch th’ych’lyth …{Come back to me, Din Djarin … please, please, come back to me…}”

But Din kept walking, through the doorway, into the sunlight, away from her, taking Grogu with him, leaving her in darkness. You will see us again, she heard him say placatingly, as if she were only a child who dropped her honey stick in the sand. Then, they disappeared into the bright sunlight.

“Dwy’ti'n ryl’uff wrtha ei!  Dwy’tu’ar!  Na, nid.  Th’ych’lyth, Din … gaal’wch! {You are lying to me! Liar! No, don’t. Come back to me, Din … please!}”

But Din and Grogu were gone, and she was alone in the darkness. The voices of the Dahls kept on, filling her heart and her mind and her soul with their foul words.

Marathel, wake up. Mando is worried about you.

“Dwy’tu’ar!” screamed Marathel.

“Whoa, okay, crankybritches, calm down. Take a deep breath through your nose … in … and out. Again, in … and out.”

Marathel began to understand that she was waking up, and she could see sunlight filtered through her eyelids. She obediently breathed in and out through her nose as she had been directed. She cracked her eyes open, squinting against the brightness. She was lying partially upright on a pillowy surface in a white place, which confused her, as her last memories had her lying twisted on the hard, rocky ground. Marathel turned her head, and could just see a person-shape through her blurry vision.

“That’s good, Marathel, keep breathing through your nose, in and out, deep breaths.”

Marathel blinked several times and rubbed her eyes until she was able to focus on the person, a woman, sitting next to her. Marathel opened her mouth and said, “You are very pink.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, yes, I am. Quite pink. Anything else?”

Marathel frowned. “Your hair is very blue.”

“Very good. I’m a Zeltron; have you ever heard of Zeltrons?” Marathel shook her head no. “Good. That way, I don’t have to tell you that everything you’ve heard about my people is exaggerated. My name is Siewan. Do you have any idea where you are?”

“No.”

“You’re on Canto Bight.”

Marathel took another deep breath and looked around the room. “This is not … a wedding chapel, I don’t think.”

Siewan laughed again. “Another good observation. Canto has more to offer besides casinos and wedding chapels. You’re in a medical center. You were in very bad shape when you came in. Do you remember anything about that?”

Marathel shook her head again. “No. I was … elsewhere. But who brought me …?”

“Does a Mandalorian sound familiar? With a little boy?”

Tears filled Marathel’s eyes. “He came back? He came back, he came back …” She began to weep.

Siewan gently took Marathel’s hand. “Yes, he came back. But what I need to know, honey … did he do anything to hurt you? Is he the reason why you’re hurt?”

“NO. Never! He saved me, he rescued me, he took me away from that horrible place; is he here? Is he still here? Is he all right? Where is he? Where’s Grogu?”

“Okay, honey, you need to breathe now, breathe. In and out. Breathe in … breathe out. He’s still here, so is his boy. Desperately worried about you.”

Marathel continued crying. “I need to see him, please, can I see him? Please?”

“You’ll see them both, but right now you need to breathe. You just had a procedure done, and you were under anesthesia for quite a long time. Since you don’t respond to bacta, they had a hard time keeping you properly sedated, so they gassed you up good and proper. You need to clear that stuff out of your lungs. Once you’ve settled a bit, we’ll take you to a room where you can see both of your fellas. Now, keep breathing, and eat some toast.”

Marathel dutifully took the proffered toast, and took a bite. It tasted like nothing — certainly not like bread — but she ate it anyway, and sipped on the sweet juice Siewan gave her. In between sips, Marathel would take another deep breath. “What … procedure? What did they do to me?”

“You had a D&C. Do you know what that is?” Marathel shook her head. “Well, I’m going to let the surgeon explain all the technical details, but among other things, a D&C removes all the horrible bleeding and clots of a really bad menstrual period. Your condition was quite severe. Has your cycle always been like that?”

“Yes, it’s always been …” It suddenly occurred to her that Din had to care for her while in that state. That he had to … never, never … a man? Helping a woman with her cycle? Ashamed, she began to cry again, and she could not seem to stop.

Siewan clicked her tongue, and said, pityingly, “Oh honey, they gassed you up bad, didn’t they?” She pulled up Marathel’s surgery notes on her tracker. “That gas, it will mess up your emotions right into hyperspace. Oh, and then they gave you a double dose of hormones to hopefully chill out your endometriosis, so you are just one hot mess.”

“My — my endo-what?”

“Your endometriosis.” Siewan looked back up at Marathel, who looked lost and confused. A torture cult, thought Siewan. Abused since childhood. She looked at the half-healed wound down Marathel’s forehead, considered the whip marks on Marathel’s back and Din’s horrific description of her brutal rape, and put some more pieces together. “We’re all here to help you, Marathel. You’re not alone, and you are safe here. I know you’re scared and confused, and that’s okay. But my job and the job of everyone here is you make you feel better and keep you safe. Pinky swear,” said Siewan, holding up her little finger. Marathel, confused, just looked at the nurse, who laughed. “Don’t leave me hanging, Marathel, pinky swear!” Marathel tentatively reached out with her own little finger, which Siewan grabbed with her finger tightly as she whispered, “Pinky swears are the strongest promises in the galaxy. So I promise to do my best job by you, and you promise to do your best to get better. Okay?”

Marathel tearfully nodded. “Okay. But … can you tell me why I have a horrible-smelling cold wet towels on my feet and face?”

Siewan laughed again. “Sweetie, on top of everything else, you got the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen. And since you don’t respond to bacta, we had to improvise. Those towels are soaked in an acidic fruit tea to help the heat and swelling. Some old-fashioned Moorjahone remedy. Apparently , sunburn’s a real issue there — but then they have three suns, so there you go. If we were on my home planet, we could have used hyigin plant leaves on you. Finish your toast and juice, and we’ll get you moved to your room, okay?”

Marathel nodded and ate the second piece of toast. It didn’t taste any better than the first piece, but it felt good to have something in her stomach. The juice was very sweet and reminded her of the sweet melon Cobb had bought her at the market. The memory sparked a tiny bit of joy within her heart, making her wonder if Din would be taking her back to Tatooine. She must have smiled, for Siewan said, “Well, it looks like you’re feeling a bit better. And I just got a page that you have your room assignment, so, we’re gonna motor.” The nurse laid Marathel flat on her gurney and deftly straightened out the tangle of IV and oxygen and blood transfusion tubes along with the sheet and blanket covering her.

“But what about Di-… I mean, the Bounty Hunter … will I get to see him?”

“We’ll grab him on the way. Oh, and … by the way, the little boy … he’s not exactly supposed to be on the ward, so I’ve asked your … Bounty Hunter to keep him concealed in that bag he carries out in the hallways. But he can be out in your room so long as the kid goes undercover when my boss shows up, cool?” Marathel nodded, face full of nerves and hope. Okay, there is a lot more going on between these two than I first thought. I don’t think it’s anywhere near as complicated as Mando says it is — certainly not from Marathel’s side of things.

Din, meanwhile, had been nervously waiting close to five hours for what he’d believed would be a two-hour procedure. He understood bacta tanks, not surgery. Grogu had been so fractious it was a struggle to get him to eat something that wasn’t the childcare’s pet lizard. Both their nerves just seemed to be completely frayed.

Din did take an opportunity to send Captain Teva some of the holos he took, slingshotting the message around a false sub-ether address some four systems over. An old trick, but still useful. He also spent some time reading over some forms that Karga had sent regarding the idea that Din had set into motion a couple weeks ago, just before Marathel dropped her bombshell that she wanted to return to Unmanarall.

Din sighed, his mind relentlessly mocking him with the memory of his original intentions. The plans he had made had been wishful thinking anyway — but to have them completely dashed as they had been was still painful. And now Karga was getting pushy, wanting answers that Din didn’t want to consider quite yet.

Then he finally heard the heavy doors that led to the surgical ward open, and his heart and stomach switched places as he wavered between anticipation and dread.

As Siewan pushed the gurney through the door from recovery to Marathel’s room, she spied Mando standing next to a wall, silently watching them approach. He gave some pats to the side of the bag he carried, and then appeared to hook his thumb on the strap; as they got closer, Siewan could just see Grogu’s tiny green hand clutching the large gloved thumb through an opening at the top of the bag. That is the most darling thing I’ve ever seen. And I can just tell by the way Mando’s standing there that he loves this woman. I wonder why he can’t see that?

Before they even reached him, Marathel was already extending her hand out towards him, quietly crying again. Din fell into step beside the gurney, allowing Marathel to clutch his hand tightly. By the time they got to her room, she was openly sobbing, holding his hand in both of hers against her cheek — unfortunately , the one covered by the fruit tea towel — as she cried. Siewan said, “Marathel, honey, you need to take a breath. And I need to borrow Mando for a moment. Mando, we need to shift her to the bed. You get her head, I’ll get her feet.” Din disengaged his hand from Marathel’s and helped Siewan move her into the bed, stepping back so that the nurse could get her tubes and bags and blankets arranged. Once Marathel was comfortable, she said, “Okay, I’m going to let you rest, Marathel. Lunch will be coming around in a little while. This is the secure ward, so your door will automatically lock. Each person who needs to come in here will announce themselves on the intercom before they can enter, and only those of us with the proper fob…” —Siewan held up her wristband— “… can open the door. Okay?” Marathel nodded, sniffling. Siewan patted Din’s bag, saying, “Okay, take care of her, big guy.” On a whim she patted the top of Mando’s helmet. “You too, Mando.” Siewan grabbed her chart tracker and left the room, closing the heavy door. There was a definitive click as the lock engaged.

Din turned back to Marathel. She sobbed once more, swiping the towel from her sunburned face. She then sat up and grabbed at him, pulling him down so he was half-sitting on the bed, hugging him hard and whimpering I’m so sorry over and over.

He let her clutch at him, swallowing a few tears himself. Grogu crawled out of the bag, now wailing as well, crying Mama until she scooped him up against her with her injured arm, ignoring the pain it caused her, peppering her boy with kisses.

Din, for his part, allowed one of his arms around her shoulders to help her stay upright … but that was all … and Marathel noticed. Forcing herself to calm down, she let go of Din and wiped her eyes. She felt a cloth being pressed into her hand, and she made herself chuckle. “How many of these have you given me?”

“Quite a few.”

“I really should start giving them back.” Marathel blew her nose, trying to smile.

“Yeah, no thanks, you can keep it now,” said Din, trying to be lighthearted. Marathel smiled wanly and leaned back in the bed, partially on her side, gazing at Grogu, who was now saying bad daws, bad daws repeatedly. “He’s saying …” began Din.

“… Bad Dahls, yes, Grogu, the Dahls were very bad.”

Din tilted his helmet. “How is it you always know what he’s saying so easily?”

Marathel shrugged, and said, “I’ve had a lot more practice with toddler talk than you, I think.” Marathel watched Din slide off the bed and pull up a chair alongside. “The Dahls … I didn’t know it was them, Din; truly, I didn’t. I didn’t realize they had such a power over me. And you … I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you were dragged into this. And Grogu, too. They’ve had a hold on me for such a long time … I guess I could no longer tell. It’s all my fault, and I’ve hurt you …”

“It’s all right, it’s not your fault …”

“But it is, it is. Even Rodanthe had a hold of you, and I didn’t know. She …” Tears spilled over again, and she turned her face into her pillow. Grogu patted her cheek, quietly saying sad Mama.

Din put his hand on the bed, saying, “Don’t … don’t talk about it right now, Marathel. Not until you’re stronger. You’ve had a rough time. You had surgery …”

“I know. Siewan told me.”

“… and you should rest for now. And breathe. The surgery nurse told me they had to use a lot of anesthesia on you, and it’s affecting your lungs.”

“Siewan told me that, too.”

“Well then, what do you need me around for?” teased Din, shrugging.

Unsure if he was joking, Marathel looked into his visor, tears threatening again. “Please don’t make fun like that, please, please.”

Din immediately leaned forward and gently patted her leg. “I’m sorry, Marathel. Of course, I’m not going anywhere. Besides, Grogu doesn’t show any signs of wanting to leave.”

Marathel looked down into the crook of her arm, where Grogu continued to stroke her face with loving touches, healing her sunburn and her cheekbone. Marathel leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes, thinking, Din’s only calling me Marathel. Not mesh’la, not ner kart’a, not even ma’mwsh ha’laa. Just Marathel. Rodanthe untied us … and it seems that was the only thing holding us together, besides Grogu.

How long will I get to hold on to this little boy before I lose him, too?

The whispers of the Dahls came back into her head, and she clenched her hands into fists, willing them away. Once the whispers went silent, Marathel sighed and stared off into space. Din sat quietly, wondering if she was deep in thought, in pain, or simply being still. Her hands were still curled into fists, so he reached over and gently took one of her hands in his, straightening out her fingers and examining the spirals of metal encircling her fingers. He could see that several were crimped and bent out of shape, pinching her skin. As he carefully removed one and began reshaping the metal back into place, Marathel said, “Din?”

“Yes, Marathel?”

Her eyes closed and another tear spilled over. “How do you do it?”

Din tilted his helmet. “Do what?”

“How do you kill people and not have it destroy your soul?”

Oh, ma’mwsh ha’laa. Din sighed, and said, “You did what you had to do, and it was no less than any of those men deserved.”

“But the children ...”

“That was not your fault.”

“But ...”

“It was not your fault,” said Din firmly. “What you need to remember is that some people ... don't deserve to breathe your air. They don’t deserve to be walking on the same ground as you.”

Marathel frowned and asked, “Does that work?”

Din shrugged. “Usually.” He knew, though, that murder — even for revenge — would be hard for Marathel to cope with, but he was unsure what would help her.

They stayed quiet for some time. Din carefully replaced the reshaped splint on her trembling finger, and removed another. Marathel cradled Grogu, and she indulged her family fantasy briefly before remembering that Din had had to care for her in the most intimate way. Yes, he’d rendered aid for her wounds the first time they’d left Unmanarall, but — Marathel wondered how a man existed like this one, so far outside her scope of what men were like that she could barely comprehend it. “Din, I …”

Din looked back up at her and waited. But she wouldn’t finish her sentence, and instead closed her eyes again. “What is it, Marathel?”

He watched her brow twitch before she answered, “You had to … tend to me again. And this time, you had to … but men don’t …” Her face flushed almost as red as her sunburn had been. “I’m so sorry …” she whispered before turning her face to the pillow.

Din leaned closer to her. “You needed help.”

“It’s so shameful …” She began curling up tighter on herself.

“It’s all right,” he said emphatically, gently squeezing her arm.

Marathel turned back to Din with dismay. “Oh, no, did Grogu ...?”

“Grogu was concerned, yes, but he seemed to accept my explanation…”

“Your explanation?”

“Of what was happening to you. He took it quite well, all things considered. I thought I would bungle the whole thing.”

Perplexed, Marathel asked, “What did you tell him?”

“That women, uh … have to prepare a place inside them, for a baby to implant and grow …”

“No ba,” sadly said Grogu, patting Marathel’s belly.

“ … but if the woman has no ba — as the kid says — then she … sheds the blood and tissue from her body. Now, you …”

“Hurt Mama.”

“That’s right, Grogu, I told you that hurt Mama has a hard time, and she needed a doctor to make it better. So … that’s what we did,” said Din with a chuckle, hoping that his misadventure would lighten her spirits.

“Men learn of such things on other planets?”

Din petted Grogu, who purred sleepily. “Some men do. I think they should.”

Marathel’s face was less red by now, but she still had an attractive blush in the fullness of her cheeks. She looked down at Grogu, snuggled up tight against her, with Din’s large hand on his little head, mere inches away from touching her. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Grogu sadly muttered, “No Patu Mama ba …” before drifting off to sleep.

Marathel looked up at Din, who grunted and said, “He asked me if you and I could have a baby. I told him no of course, since you can’t …”

“… and you’re shooting blanks.”

“Not … quite in those words, but yes.” He sighed. “I think that’s what he found most upsetting, besides not being able to help your pain.”

No babies for us, ever, Grogu, I’m sorry … thought Marathel, before amending her thoughts: But Din could possibly be fixed. He could possibly have children of his own. Not that any child would replace Grogu, but … his life will now continue beyond you, Marathel, you stupid useless cunt. You will remain nothing, not a mother, barely a woman, barely a person, barely even fit to breathe air on any planet, just like the men you killed and the babies that died and the women that will die because of you …

Somehow, it got through to her that Din was calling her name. “… what?”

“You keep … going still, checking out, clenching your hands into fists. Do I need to find the nurse? Are you dizzy? Nauseated? You had a concussion …” Marathel shook her head but stayed silent. “Marathel, I understand that it’s hard for you to comprehend your actions in the Hold. No one is ever going to blame you for what happened there.”

“They already do. I killed them all. I’m the one responsible …”

Din lifted his hand from Grogu’s head, and cupped her cheek, and his touch nearly made her faint, her heart hurt her so much. He said, “The Dahls killed the children. Not you.” He felt her trembling beneath his hand. “Marathel … are the Dahls still in your head?”

She nervously nodded. “Yes. I can hear them, even this far away. Louder than ever before. Can’t you hear them?”

“No. Not since I had the … not since Rodanthe died. Marathel, you need help. You need…”

“All I need is …”

Before Marathel could finish, there was a click and a tinny voice coming through the intercom. “Siewan here. I have a couple of people and your lunch with me, Marathel. May we come in?”

“Just a moment,” called Din as he picked up the dozing Grogu and put him in his bag. “Yes, please, come in.”

There was a long pause. “I need Marathel to answer, please, Mando.”

“Please come in, Siewan.”

Siewan and company entered, and Siewan looked vexed. She raised her perfect blue eyebrow and said firmly, “Marathel is my patient and I communicate with her. She will speak for herself. Do you understand?”

Din stared at Siewan, completely abashed. Then he understood that Marathel needed to be in control of her care, so he nodded with deference and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

Siewan turned to Marathel with a smile, then puzzlement. “What the … no more sunburn? How’d you manage that?” She noticed Marathel glance at the bag on Mando’s lap. “Marathel, this is nurse Ya-Bito,” she said, and a lovely woman with green skin smiled. Her teeth were not so lovely, and reminded Marathel of the large fish that would take enormous bites out of other fish and swimming children. “She’s going to take over for the next shift. Anything you need, you ask her. We have your lunch here – it's a bland diet, sorry. And this is Doctor Dine’; she’s the one who did your procedure, and she’d like to talk to you for a little bit. Mando, this is girl stuff. Scat.” Din immediately stood and stepped out, still holding Marathel’s finger splint in his hand. After the door closed behind him, Siewan grinned and said, “Damn, he just does what you say, huh?”

Ya-Bito nodded and said, “Wouldn’t mind one like him, no.” The doctor coughed, reminding the nurses to have a bit of decorum. She invited Marathel to go ahead and eat while they spoke to her. Marathel lifted off the cover of what Siewan told her was pureed chicken stew. Marathel thought it was an odd color — quite more yellow than she made stew — but she obediently sipped from the bowl while the doctor talked to her about her condition and asked questions. Marathel was not exactly vague with her answers but she didn’t exactly offer a lot of information, either.

The doctor did her best to communicate to Marathel the nature of her reproductive and menstrual troubles, but Marathel wasn’t interested in hearing about that. All she really wanted to know was when she could leave. The doctor informed her that she needed to stay at least one more night; they were concerned about potential infection, since Marathel didn’t respond to bacta and they had rely on old-school antibiotics.

“Mando — and company — will be allowed to stay with you, if you’re worried about being alone here,” said Siewan.

But that wasn’t Marathel’s worry, because this wasn’t the place that Din was going to leave her behind. That place was elsewhere, according to her dreams and the chattering of the Dahls. She knew, she knew, that he needed to keep moving for Grogu’s safety as well as his own, that Din had his own agenda to complete that had nothing to do with her, an agenda that she kept upsetting because of her very presence … so the voices in her head kept telling her.

Someone was patting her arm. “…what?!”

The other three women glanced at each other. The doctor said, “I was saying, Marathel, that I believe you should speak to a couple of our therapists. You have experienced much trauma, and I believe you need help to process that trauma.”

“I don’t understand the point of that,” said Marathel.

“The point is to help you heal, Marathel.”

“I will heal, but it will take only time. No words can fix what’s been done to me.”

“Talking about trauma can help …”

“Talking does nothing. Talking is just … words. And words always lead to lies,” firmly said Marathel, hoping that she had ended the conversation. She may be as dumb as anything, but these women before her were no Eliadu and Cieroprac. She doubted they had serums or potions to make her speak her mind, and there was no way she would willingly speak of her past life again. She had to tell the Reconstructionists, she’d had to tell Din, she’d had to revisit her shameful existence far too often and it did no good whatsoever! She simply wanted to forget and go far away from the Dahls and not have to hear them anymore. They couldn’t talk to me on Tatooine. I won’t have to hear them there. I will make my days busy so I won’t have to think. I will be still and not think.

“We’ll try again in a little while, Marathel. Eat your lunch, and if you’re still hungry, we can get you something else. I want you to take a walk this afternoon, as often as possible, actually. But eat first,” said the doctor. She and Siewan left the room, leaving only Ya-Bito, who was looking at Marathel impassively, her startling teeth bared.

“Yes?”

“Where is the fork, Marathel?”

Marathel looked up at the nurse, but was unable to hold her gaze. “There was no fork.”

“There’s always a fork, Marathel. I used to work dietary when I was in nursing school, and I wrapped possibly a million of those cutlery sets before I graduated.” Marathel stared at the empty bowl on her tray, her left hand under the sheet, next to her leg … clutching the fork, pressing the points of the tines deeply into her thigh. Ya-Bito sighed and sat down. “If we believe that a patient is hurting herself, we have to, we must, pull her off the floor and into a three-day hold in the psychiatric ward. That’s not a good place for someone as fragile as you obviously are… we do our best, but psych’s not always so great. I can hear you cracking up like an ice floe in spring.

“I know that fork is keeping you together right now. So let me make a deal with you. You can keep the fork until you’re done with your lunch. After that, I’m coming back in, I’m going to remove those IVs and the catheter and I’m going to send you and Mando on a little walk — you need to walk; you’re on a lot of opioid painkillers and that’s going to stove you right up — but when I do that, I want the fork back. And if you can do that, I won’t report this. Can you do that, dear?

“Believe me, I know, I know, the fork is helping right now. But you can’t keep doing that. This is one of the reasons why we all think therapy is a good idea for you. I promise, it’s better than a fork in the thigh in the long run. I swear.”

Marathel’s throat swelled with tears again, and she croaked, “Pinky swear?”

“Absolutely,” said Ya-Bito, holding out her pinky for Marathel to link with her own. “Do we have a deal?” Marathel nodded. “Good. Finish up your lunch. Buzz when you’re done. Did you want to be alone, or did you want Mando back in here?”

Marathel blurted, “I’d like him back …” before falling silent with a blush.

Ya-Bito chuckled and patted Marathel’s leg. “Press your call button when you’re done,” she said as she opened the door and saw Mando just on the other side. “Where the hell have you been? Get back in there,” said Ya-Bito, teasingly. He stepped aside to let her through, and she left.

Din sat down and pulled out an awake Grogu. Din noticed that Marathel still had part of her lunch, so he held Grogu on his lap. “You still have food to eat. No, Grogu. Not yours. Try the ice cream, Marathel.”

“Ice cream?”

“Ice cream.” Din picked up the container and peeled off the lid. “Here.”

Wondering what in Frith Din was talking about, she took the container from Din and almost instantly dropped it back into his gloved hands. “Frith! It’s cold!”

“I said it was ice cream.”

“I don’t know what ice cream is!”

“It’s … it’s … ice cream. Frozen sweet cream with salt and … whatever else is in ice cream. Just eat it, I think you’ll enjoy it.” He handed her the container and the spoon.

Marathel put a cautious spoonful in her mouth and was at a loss of what to do with whatever this foodstuff was, but it hurt her teeth. “Ai! So cold!” She dropped the container and spoon on her tray. “It’s soft, but now it changed … it’s like … laegg … maybe. Oh, I don’t understand what this is!”

Din sat there, silent, wanting so much to burst out laughing, remembering her limited scope of the galaxy. He had to bite his lip and bounce Grogu on his knee just to keep his mouth shut. “Did you not have ice or cream on your planet? You must have had milk of some kind; you had cheese.”

“Well, yes, milk. That’s what laegg means. But ice or cream, no.”

“What animals did you have that produced milk? Cream comes from milk.”

“We had cwagylans. They are … smallish animals, smaller than Dahls, but a similar-shaped head, and horns.”

Din pondered for a moment, and pulled out his holopad and did a search. “Goats? Did they look like this?” He held up the screen to her and she nodded. “Okay … it says here that goat milk doesn’t separate easily, so … well, that explains that. But ice … you never saw frozen water on Unmanarall? It never got that cold?”

“Sometimes, a few times, it became terribly cold. Once, my little stream stopped flowing and it became hard to the touch. It burned my fingers to touch it, but it turned back into water when the sun came out.”

“That’s ice, Marathel.” He finally let himself chuckle. “You have a lot to learn about ... food and ... well, everything, I suppose. Did you not like the taste of the ice cream?”

“I didn’t notice the taste. I think I was too surprised by what it was,” said Marathel, embarrassed.

“Well, give it another try.”

Marathel picked up the container again, and ate another spoonful, rolling it around on her tongue to avoid her teeth, pondering the flavor. “It’s sweet, but that’s about it, really.”

“That looks like plain ice cream. It comes in many flavors.”

“It does?” Din nodded. Marathel ate another spoonful. “Do you like ice cream?”

“I do.”

“Then you should have some,” said Marathel, holding out the container to Din.

He gently pushed it back towards her, saying, “That’s yours; you enjoy it. What else you got up there?” Marathel held up a piece of fruit. “That is a yellowfruit. Make sure you eat that; they were a treat where I came from.”

Marathel sniffed the thick-skinned yellowfruit, then went back to the ice cream. “You mean on Nevarro?”

“No … Aq Vetina.”

“Aq Vetina. It’s a pretty name. Is it a pretty planet?”

“I don’t remember. I was only a child when … I left.”

Marathel tilted her head. “And you’ve not gone back since?” Din shook his head. “You should take Grogu there. Show him where you came from.”

Din shrugged and replied, “Hand me the yellowfruit, I’ll peel it for you.”

She did, and watched as he split the skin and peeled the outside of the yellowfruit back, revealing a whitish-looking fleshy inside. Din broke off a small piece and gave it to Grogu, who happily mashed it into his mouth. Marathel smiled, and took the fruit back, taking a bite. She nodded, saying, “Hmm. I like it. It’s soft, like the ice cream. It’s … I can’t think of a word?”

“Creamy?”

“That’s a word? I suppose it works,” she said before eating the rest of the ice cream, and then the yellowfruit.

Yes, creamy, suddenly thought Din, like how your skin felt when I first touched it, that’s how I remember it, at least. He watched her carefully wipe her lips with a napkin. She sat quietly for a few moments, gazing off into the distance, and then she placed a fork back on the tray. When did she have a fork?

“I’m supposed to call nurse Ya-Bito when I’m done,” said Marathel sheepishly, leaning back on her pillow, her hands folded primly in her lap. “They want me to walk.” Din nodded, still wondering what the deal was with the fork. He reached over and found the call button for the nurse, pressed it, and then put a protesting Grogu back in the bag.

“I should get him something to eat …” began Din as the door opened and Ya-Bito stuck her head in.

“I’m done with lunch,” said Marathel, holding up the fork and placing it back on the tray.

“Excellent. Would you give us a few minutes, Mando?” He nodded and left. “So …did the fork help?”

Marathel shrugged. “A little.”

“Talking is better.” Marathel didn’t respond, so the nurse went around to the other side of the bed to check the hanging bags for Marathel’s IVs. “The doctors want you to drink as much water as possible, but we’re also going to keep you on fluids because you got so dehydrated. We think you’re good on blood now, though.”

“I didn’t use to be.”

“What was that?”

“I used to have a terrible bleeding condition. I’ve lost all my blood before.”

Ya-Bito looked at Marathel’s face. “You’ve suffered greatly.” Marathel didn’t respond. “Siewan believes that you’re heartbroken as well. I agree with her. Does it have something to do with that Mandalorian and his little boy?” Marathel nodded and sniffled. “He cares for you greatly.”

“No. He feels responsible for me.”

Ya-Bito shrugged. “That’s part of caring for another, especially someone as fragile as you at the moment. Let him carry you for a while until you can walk on your own.”

Marathel, puzzled, said, “I thought you wanted me to walk.”

“I do. What I meant, though, is allow him to help carry your sadness, your hurt, until you have the strength to do so yourself.”

Marathel drew a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. “My hurts should not be his burden.”

“He seems more than strong enough, and — dare I say — willing to take those burdens for you.”

Strong, yes, willing, no. He will leave me behind as soon as he is able. As he should. He was untethered, and he is now free of me. “I’d like to walk now … can I do that?” Ya-Bito nodded, and removed the synth-blood line, then asked Marathel to lay back so she could remove the catheter. This startled Marathel greatly; she had no idea such a thing existed, much less was inserted inside her. Ya-Bito patiently explained its purpose and exactly how it worked, which eased Marathel’s mind. Ya-Bito then helped her sit up on the edge of the bed to put on another gown to wear as a robe, and a pair of soft socks that had anti-slip treads. “Oh, I like these,” said Marathel, testing them on the floor. “I like these socks very much.”

Ya-Bito laughed and said, “I’ll make sure you get a few pairs before you leave. Now, can you stand?”

Marathel carefully stood, only a bit wobbly, and took a couple cautious steps. “I feel pretty good. May I use the necessary?”

“Vac-tube’s right in there,” said the nurse, pointing to a closed door. “You probably won’t tinkle anything; it’s the removing of the catheter that makes you feel that way. And here …” She handed Marathel a pair of absorbent, stretchy, disposable underwear. “You are spotting a bit, which is completely normal, so you might want to wear these.”

Marathel looked back at the bed; there was a pad there with some blood on it, but not much at all. She went into the little room and saw not only a vac-tube but also a fresher. She hoped she could use it later. She tried to use the vac-tube, but Ya-Bito had been correct; she hardly had any piddle at all, just more an urge than anything else. Marathel pulled on the absorbent underwear and instantly hated them, but decided they would do for now, until she could wear her regular clothes again … She then remembered that she left her bag behind on Unmanarall. Oh … dank ferrik, as Din and others would say! I have no clothes, nothing! What am I going to do?

Marathel stepped out, worried, and as she was washing her hands, she looked at the mirror and remembered her clam shell pendant … which was now missing from around her neck. “Oh, no,” she cried.

“What is it?” asked Ya-Bito, who was replacing the large absorbent pad on the bed.

“I had a clam shell … a pendant … around my neck, and it’s gone …”

The nurse came over to her, patting her shoulder. “I don’t know, but I will find out for you. Okay? What is lost will be found. Now, let’s go walk.”

Marathel nodded tearfully, and wiped her eyes. As she walked to the door, pulling her IV stand, there was a knock on the door. She cautiously opened it slightly, and Din was on the other side. “Oh …”

“You’re standing; good.” He came in, noticing the distress on her face. “What is it?”

“My clam shell … the one Grogu gave me …” Marathel began to cry again.

“Oh, I have that …” Din dug it out of his pocket and placed it over her head.

Ya-Bito smiled and said, “Lost is already found.”

“They made sure to give it to me before you went into surgery; I’m sorry it slipped my mind.” Marathel dropped her head and clutched the clam shell, sniffling. Din kept his hands on her shoulders. He clicked his tongue and said, “Ma’mwsh ha’laa …”

Marathel gasped, her tears forgotten, and she looked into Din’s visor. “Did you say ma’mwsh ha’laa?” Or could it have been my mesh’la?

“Of course I said ma’mwsh ha’laa; you’re always going to be ma’mwsh ha’laa to me.” After handing her yet another cloth to dry her tears, he said, “Now, do you feel up to walking?” Marathel nodded and smiled — an actual smile, Din noticed — so he held the door open for Marathel, and she stepped out into the corridor. “Which way should we …?”

“First of all, please …” Marathel guided his arm so that she could hold his forearm, just like Cobb had when he’d led her to the courtyard.

“Well, when did you learn about that?” asked Din.

“Cobb taught me.” Din made a hmm noise and they started slowly walking, Marathel guiding the rolling IV stand alongside her.

After a few meters, Din felt the need to place his hand over hers on his arm, which cheered him as well as her. “Am I walking too fast?”

“No, this is just fine. Where’s Grogu?”

“Back in the childcare center. He kicked up a fuss but was distracted by a cup of ice cream. Food seems to be a good currency for him.”

Marathel frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I can use food to make him do what I want.”

She smirked. “Boys are the same all over. Promises of sweets always worked in the Hold. Girls only wanted a hug, or praise. Or safety. Which was impossible to give,” she said sadly. Din patted her hand, and they walked in silence for a while. “I’m glad to have my clam shell back, but I’m also upset because I left my bag behind.”

“I picked it up. It’s on the Razor Crest. Your blanket is being laundered courtesy of Grogu’s childcare assistant. They’ve been very kind.”

Marathel had to take an extra breath to control her emotions. “... Thank you, Din.” She let out a long wobbly exhale. “So, you went to the hut?”

“I did.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry about your kinswomen. Ni ceta. Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, and Hylma – I recited the Manda’lor death chant in their honor. They were good women.”

“They were all good to me in their own way. Hylma was the only one I didn’t truly know. I helped at her birth, but why she would be willing to help me at all; I have no idea. And I’ll never know.” A thought occurred to her. “How did you learn their names? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“When Grogu and I arrived back at Unmanarall, we went to to Hold first. Well, what was left of the Hold. I seem to recall thinking that Marathel doesn’t mess around when I saw that building blown to bits. I was impressed. You’re dangerous, woman.”

Of all the things Din might have expected Marathel to do at that moment, it sure wasn’t laughing.  “Cobb said the same thing,” Marathel said as she chuckled.

Unsure of how he felt about that, Din asked, “Why did he say that?”

“I threw a mug at his head.  He deserved it.  He was being a … what did you call him?  Oh yes, a menace.” Marathel chuckled some more.  “Oh, that’s not quite true.  I was asleep, and I was very groggy when I awoke, but he was there in my room and he startled me. So, mug to the head.  He managed to duck, though!  Oh, goodness…” Marathel continued to laugh.  “Then, another time, he came into my room while I was sleeping to measure my foot so he could find some shoes to borrow …”

Well, now I’m peeved, thought Din.  Cobb was just hanging out in her room? Touching her bare feet while she was sleeping?  What else did that handsy son of a bitch touch?

Marathel turned her head to look at Din, who was not looking at her.  Her brow furrowed.  “Are you … angry at me for speaking about Cobb?”

“… No.”

“I think you are.” Din didn’t reply, so she decided to change the subject. “There’s another thing I must apologize for. I’m so sorry, Din.”

“Why?”

“Some time ago, I thought to myself, that Din Djarin never does anything I say.” Marathel chuckled. “But the truth is … you did everything I ever asked of you. Except leave me behind. Twice, now, you’ve come back.”

“The third time’s the charm,” said Din, who regretted it instantly.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you mean. Perhaps … it’s for the best?”

Before Din could answer, a man and two women rounded the corner right in front of them. Marathel had no idea who they were. The man wore an odd uniform; it was orange with white straps and a white woven thing on his chest. The two women wore nearly identical pants and jackets of a brownish green. All three looked quite stern. The man nodded at Din, saying, “Mando.”

Din sighed deeply, muttering, “Captain Teva.” Hearing the name Captain Teva instantly filled Marathel with terror, and she thought, there are Captains elsewhere? Are there Bishops and Dukes too? How does Din know another Captain?

This new Captain, of whom she was already afraid, turned to her and said, “Marathel ap Bishop, we need to have a chat.”

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-One point Five ->

#din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #mando angst #din djarin angst #starwarsficnetwork #pedrostories #din djarin x fem oc #din djarin x plus size!fem oc #din djarin x reverse age gap oc #plus size reverse age gap

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nathanbatemanfucker · 11 months ago

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DISCLAIMERS: * indicates 18+/NSFW content. all readers are described as having dark/darker skin than the character they are shipped with. reader is also described as having curly hair, braids or locs depending on the fic.

Moonknight

One More Time

Sprite (black!nymph!oc)*

Mosaic Whispers (black!fem!oc)*

Narcos

Tied Together*

Criminal Minds

Moon River*

The Mandalorian

Ambrosial

Triple Frontier

The Dead Horse (santi garcia)

#x black reader #black reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader #black gn reader #black!fem!oc #black oc #black female original character #moonknight fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #blog stuff

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lady-phasma · 7 months ago

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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.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x ofc #mando x togruta ofc #din djarin #din dijarin x oc #mando x oc #the mandolarian #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mando smut #din djarin smut #mando x f!reader #mando x fem!reader #din dijarin x reader

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marivelsblog1503 · 5 months ago

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Ꭲꮋꭼ Ꮇꭺɴꭰꭺꮮꮻꭱꮖꭺɴ ꭺɴꭰ ꭲꮋꭼ Ꭱꭼᏼꭼꮮ ║ Ꭰꮖɴ Ꭰꭻꭺꭱꮖɴ х 𝙵ꭼꮇ!ᏫᏟ ║

Descripción de la historia: La historia sigue en proceso, este índice será publicado, pero, será editado una vez que tenga el borrador listo, lo que están leyendo en estos momentos será eliminado y se reemplazara por otro que si sería la descripción como tal, y la playlist será agregada y también las aclaraciones.

1. Ꮲꭱꮻ́ꮮꮻꮐꮻ: 【 Próximamente. 】 2. Ꮲꭺꭱꭲꭼ Ꮖ: Ꭲꭱꭺꮪ ꮮꭺ ꮯꭺꮖ́ꭰꭺ ꭰꭼꮮ Ꮖꮇꮲꭼꭱꮖꮻ. 【 Próximamente. 】

Todavía no posee una playlist, aún.

#fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #spanish only #spanish #violencia canon #the mandalorian #din djarin x fem reader #din djarin x Fem oc #din grogu #the chlid #star wars rebels

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skyeconch · 2 years ago

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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

#the mandalorian #Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Mando #Mando x you #Mando x reader #Mando x oc #Din Djarin x male reader #Din Djarin x fem reader #Din Djarin x gn reader #The Mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x reader #Original : Terms and conditions By Lauren Asher #Terms and Conditions By Lauren Asher #my works

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poedjarinwrites · 6 months ago

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.1, like father, like daughter

Star Girl, prologue Din Djarin x fem!OC

Masterlist

(gif not mine!)

MUSTAFAR, OUTER RIM

'Bela.'

Her knees hurt. She's been in this position too much, too long. One arm is poised on her raised knee, the other hangs at her side, fingers curled around the black hilt of a lightsaber given to her as a child when she had no idea what a weapon was.

She lifts her head, she can no longer hide behind her hair which is brought back by a labyrinth of braids. They're tight, and pull her eyebrows closer to her hairline. Her face feels stiff, and she struggles to move her lips when she replies.

Her eyes finally meet the dark helmet above her, green and twinkling like a child's through thick eye lashes. 'Yes, Master?'

'You are ready.'

'Ready, Master?'

With one nod he turns, his cape follows behind and she knows that's her cue to follow after him. She's up in one easy push and behind him down the long corridors. Her chin is up high, her eyes look down her nose while her hands clasp behind her back.

She squeezes her fingers tightly together to prevent her rapid breathing. The heat from the lava below burns her skin, for once she is thankful when they reach the throne room and he takes his seat.

She stops beside him, keeping her gaze forward and he answers the commission from the Inquisitor.

The Third Sister's face flashes before them in a blue light. Bela's face morphs into a scowl, she's never been a fan of any of the Inquisitor's. They're strung too high with too much free power in their hands. Little control, no remorse if their actions ruin their Lord's plans.

'Where is he?'

'We have probes out. We're tracking all possible exits. He will pay for the Grand Inquisitor's-'

'The Grand Inquisitor means nothing. Kenobi is all that matters now-' As he says the name there's a shift in his demeanour, Bela feels it. The new emotion tugs at her heart and she resists the urge to move while she rubs her sternum to ease the unfamiliar ache in her chest. 'Is that understood?'

'Yes, my Lord.'

He finally leans back into his cold throne, 'I have been watching you, Third Sister. I know what it is, you seek. Prove yourself, and the position of Grand Inquisitor is yours.' Bela watches as the Third Sister's lip twitches, she doesn't have to be on the same planet to feel her pride, 'Fail me, and you will not live to regret it.'

Her face is gone in a flash, but then his attention is on Bela, who straightens more at his gaze. 'What is it, apprentice?'

It's a test. She already knows it is. Yet she still speaks.

'I don't trust, Third Sister. Her ambition will destroy her, and if we aren't careful, us with it.'

Vader says nothing, he rises from his throne and walks to the open window. She flinches when the edge of his cape brushes her shin.

Swallowing and turning after him she's quick to defend herself, 'I don't mean to-'

'If you're going to question me, follow through.'

'Not you, my Lord,' Her words are rushed out and she bows her head slightly to show her respect when he briefly looks over at her. 'Never you- My Lord. It is the intentions of the Third Sister I question.'

'I sense it too.'

He finally turns to her, she lifts her head higher, gulps, he pays no mind to the shuddering breath. 'Prepare to leave.'

'My Lord?'

'Follow her, report back to me.'

She nods, 'Of course.'

'If she alerts me before you get there do not engage.'

She turns and walks out of the corridor, with a sharp whistle her droid, an old M4 series that has been painted black by her to hide the bright orange colours, follows after her.

'Fire up the ship,' She commands, 'Once I've dressed we'll be gone.'

With that the droid rolls to the docking bay, and she retires to her quarters. She removes the uncomfortable black tunic and replaces it with plain trousers and a long sleeved black shirt. Over the top she adds a jacket and clips a utility belt that holds her saber around her waist.

She stops to stare at herself in the only reflective surface in her room. The tinted windows. Her hair has grown, they won't allow her to cut it short. She makes quick work of letting all the braids fall loose. She reties her hair, pulling the normal strands and braided strands back into her ponytail.

When she arrives at her prepared ship Vader is there, he places his hands on her shoulder. She finds comfort in the bruising grip. The touch of a parent.

'If you find Kenobi, do not kill him. Don't listen to him either. He is a liar.'

'As are all Jedi.' She tells him. She feels a small amount of pride well within him when she says that.

'Good luck, daughter.'

She bows her head, and he squeezes one shoulder. Then she's in her ship and disappearing into the dark night sky.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Where are we going?

'Mapuzo.'

Boring.

She just hums in response as she leans back in her cockpit. I'm hungry.

'You're a droid.'

You programmed me to have human emotions.

She rolls her eyes, 'Emotions, not hunger. We're almost there, buddy.'

Vader is going to be there.

She nods, 'He will. His ship has left. The beacon you put on it has activated.'

If he finds out we're dead.

'I'm dead, you'll just be a pile of scrap.'

That's dead to me.

Her comm blinks and she reaches forward quickly to flick the switch on. 'Do not engage once you land, Bela. Await my command, don't be seen. The Third Sister knows I am on my way, she does not know you're already there.'

'Yes, my lord. I'll find a vantage point, watch from above.'

The droid beeps something along the line's of her being a coward which she ignores as she slowly lowers the ship and opens the canopy. 'Stay with the ship, keep in contact.'

Kicking up dust as she walks she keeps hidden in the shadows, watching the Inquisitors as they pace outside of their ship. The Third Sister is anxious, her hand tightens on her saber everytime she hears the slightest of noise. No, not anxious. Impatient.

Her head snaps in Bela's direction, but by the time she moves towards the alley to peek between the small huts the girl has gone.

It takes almost an hour for Vader to land in his ship, thanks to a string of binary from M4 alerting her he's entered the planet's atmosphere and she has a chance to prepare herself.

She hears his heavy breathing before his heavy footsteps. She lurks, waits, watches. When his hand shoots out and she feels the rush of the force around them her own hand instantly goes to her neck.

But a scream from a villager has her pausing to watch as he's lifted into the air. A boy runs after him, 'Dad!'

Bela doesn't flinch when Vader breaks his neck, not a twitch, not a single blink. Not even when he forces the boy's body into the wall and watches him crumple into a pile of flesh.

He walks forward, dragging a woman behind him. In the corner of her eye she sees a man, covered in a hood as he backs away from the village.

'Movement.'

'Stop him.'

She keeps her distance, following after the man as Vader takes a different path, no doubt to perform a dramatic entrance.

She can feel the man's fear, it bleeds out of him like a bodily odour. His first mistake.

He stills at the familiar sound of a buzzing saber, staying still he refuses to turn. His jaw is clenched, so tight he thinks he might break his teeth. He tries to reach out in the Force. To link his mind with a young Padawan, then he hears the voice.

'Kenobi.'

His shoulders fall, the tension leaves his body and he turns to meet her. 'I have no quarrel with you.'

'You do. A quarrel with the Empire is a quarrel with me.'

His brows furrow as he steps closer but she lifts her saber. It almost touches his nose, if he breathes in too deep the red may just graze his face.

'I sense your hesitance.' He lifts his hands, but does not reach for his saber like he should. 'Your lack of faith in the empire.'

'I have no faith. Just obedience. To the Empire, to Lord Vader.'

'Put down the weapon,' He requests softly, 'You are just a child.'

'Don't insult me.'

He shakes his head, his idea of reassurance. Kenobi takes this moment to think back to a long time ago. A time where he visited a desolate sandy planet like this one. Where his Master came to him with a young boy who held the same fear she has in her eyes. Then another time, a mission to an outer-rim planet full of slave traders where he'd seen the pain and suffering take over the same boy as he cut down many where they stood. He pushes away the final thought of a planet made of lava.

He shakes his head at her again. To her it's an insult, he doesn't believe she will kill him. She's killed hundreds like him. 'You don't have to fear the empire.'

He stretches a hand out, but his hesitance is clear in the shaking limb. 'Let go. And come with me.'

She lifts her saber and swipes for him but he jumps back before she can hit him. 'What's your name?' He asks her.

She swipes at him again and he catches her arm, spinning her around so her back goes to his chest and the saber at her throat. 'I'm not afraid of you.' She tells him, she lifts her chin, neck exposed to the heat of the weapon.

His hand is positioned so he can easily push it away, part of him believes she'll bring the saber down on herself. 'What's your name?'

'Bela.'

'Your real name.'

'Bela.' She says again and then kicks her foot back into his knee. He groans, twisting to the side and catching himself before he meets the floor.

He manages to hit away her saber and then she turns to lift her foot into his stomach. 'You will respond to the Empire for your crimes.'

'I'm not the one committing crimes here. You are blinded by-'

She lets out a low growl as she moves her fist for him but he hits it away, 'You don't know what you're talking about.'

'The Empire has blinded you. Your obedience to Vader has blinded you!'

He lifts a hand, using the force to push away her weapon. It's lost, buried in the sand a few paces away. She wants to prove she's just as good as him. Just as good as the Inquisitors, as Vader himself.

So she lifts her hand and calls to the Force. But it gives him enough time to run forward. He tries to move past her, but she drops, sticking her leg out to trip him.

When she moves to hold him down he knicks a knee up and hits her back. She grabs his ankle, pulling him onto his stomach and then twists his leg.

She reaches for his robes to pull him back to her but he grabs her hand and twists it behind her back. 'Don't fight the light inside of you.'

'There is no light. Don't you see? As long as the Empire lives there shall be only darkness in all of us.'

'There is both light and darkness in everyone, you get to choose which one you act with.'

She brings her elbow back and knocks him backwards then holds his wrist down while panting heavily. 'You act all high and mighty Obi-Wan Kenobi yet where were you when your fellow Jedis called for help? When we rounded them up and picked them off one by one? Where were you? Lord Vader has told me about you. How you left him for dead-'

'He lies!'

'So do you!' She tells him harshly, 'Most of all to yourself.' She tilts her head at him, 'I can feel it. You know it's the truth. You can't continue to hide from your past, Kenobi.'

He brings his head forward and cringes at the crack of her nose, then once out of her grip and on his knees he pulls her back with his arms around her neck.

She gasps, fingernails digging into his forearm. As she leans forward a chain slips from beneath her shirt, dangling over his arm, cooling the skin it touches. His eyes zone in on the familiar pieces of beskar metal attached to the chain. A piece of metal he had engraved and delivered himself.

'Satine.'

Her brows furrow deeper, her chest heaves with each greedy breath of oxygen. He sits back, lets her go but she doesn't fight. She lifts herself up onto her elbows and watches as he holds a hand out for her.

She turns her face away, doesn't respond, doesn't take it. 'Please.'

She clenches her jaw, closes her eyes and he nods as he steps back. Promising the force he won't give up on this girl.

Then he backs away. Only he doesn't get too far, waiting just over the ridge is Vader hidden in the darkness.

She doesn't move, she lays back in the sand staring into the darkness until it's illuminated by a red light in front of her face.

'Third Sister.'

'You're weak. Like him.'

Bela raises a red brow, 'I won't fight you. We both know I'll win.'

Reva reaches out her hand pushing into her mind, but with a clenched jaw she uses all of her energy and might to keep her out.

'Stubborn,' She hums with a wicked smile, glancing over to where two sabres clash in the distance. She circles Bela like she's some kind of prey. 'Like father, like daughter.'

#star girl din djarin #the mandalorian x fem oc #din djarin x oc #din djarin x fem oc #star wars oc

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handspunyarns · 2 years ago

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You Were Marked Masterlist

a multi-chapter Din Djarin x *reverse age gap* *plus-sized* *fem* *afab* O/C

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Pairing: din djarin x *reverse age gap* *plus-sized* fem!O/C

Rating: will be 18+

Story summary: Din accepts an ambiguous bounty for an impressive sum. It takes him days out of the charted galaxy through hyperspace to an unknown planet with inhabitants ruled by men, secretive, and unlike anything Din had experienced before. He meets a woman living alone outside of the protected boundaries of the community…

Story warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, explicit sexual content, non-con sexual content, extreme violence, rape, torture, misogynic culture, revenge, and gluten

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Click Here to read on AO3

Prologue

Day One

Day One point Five

Day Two

Day Two point Five

Day Three (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Four

Day Four point Five (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Day Five

Day Five point Five (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Six (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, SA)

Day Six point Five

Day Seven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, SA)

Day Seven point Five (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Days Eight through Eleven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Day Twelve

Day Thirteen

Day Fourteen (Din) (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Fourteen (Marathel)

Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel)

Day Fifteen (Din)

Day Fifteen (Marathel & Cobb)

Day Fifteen point Five

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part II

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part III (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Din)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Marathel)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part I

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part II. (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III (18+, MDNI, blood, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part IV (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-six point Five.

Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Marathel). (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, murder)

Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Din, Part I).

Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Din, Part II).

Day Twenty-Nine point Five. (Mention of bodily fluids and menstruation)

Day Thirty.

Day Thirty-One.

Day Thirty-One point Five.

Future Days (coming soon)

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dindjarindiaries · 11 months ago

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DIN DJARIN ONE-SHOTS

Each story below focuses on Din Djarin, with pairings for each story indicated along with summaries.

Stories marked with an asterisk (*) contain sexual, though not explicit/graphic, content.

My ratings are as follows: G (all ages), T (13+), M (18+)

Last updated: July 27, 2024

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

the “heat” of the moment • reader The heat goes out on the Razor Crest and you’re the only one with an electric blanket to keep yourself warm.

my cyar’ika • fem!reader You and Din find yourselves in a marketplace lush with life, and you lose yourself in the fun while Din tries to keep you safe throughout it.

just fine • reader Din comforts you after you suffer through a tumultuous nightmare.

dead to me • fem!oc On the verge of death, Twila takes off Din’s helmet, later having to face his wrath and leave his ship—even though she’s pregnant with their unborn child.

everything i wanted • reader You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host.

riduurok • reader This is the story of how you fall in love with the Mandalorian bounty hunter, Din Djarin.

home • reader After the child is reunited with his people, Din takes you to a place that’s unfamiliar to you but all too familiar to him: his home.

when stars align• reader You spend an affectionate morning awakening beside your Mandalorian, who you have just recently married.

more than words* • reader On the evening of your marriage, you and Din show your deep love for each other in a manner that goes beyond words.

the challenge • reader After winning a drinking challenge, Din returns to the Crest much later than expected in a state of mind much different than usual, leaving you to deal with him and whatever words spill from his mouth.

don’t blame me• reader In the weeks following your marriage, you and Din are desperate to make up for all the physical affection you’ve missed out on—leading you to do whatever you can wherever you can.

said and done • reader With Din being injured from a past fight, you’re the one in charge of the hunts for now—and Din realizes he likes having you in control.

behave* • reader After a grueling hunt, you and Din celebrate your success at a local cantina, both ending up with a little too much that leads you to do things that are a little too risky.

a warrior’s purpose • daughter oc Din returns to the planet where he’d left his riduur many years ago to find her again—but instead, he finds someone else.

nothing so perfect • fem!reader You and Din think that you’re adding on to your family, only to learn there’s been a mistake—and now you’re both left to cope with the loss you never expected.

next to you • reader It’s been long enough since Din’s promised return for you to assume that he didn’t make it, and now you yearn for the life that could’ve been.

forever and always • reader When you and Din finally find the child’s home, it’s time to say goodbye—but then Din realizes he can’t.

reverence • fem!reader Following the birth of your daughter, Din spends a night marveling at the little life and the way you provide for her.

transmissions • reader When Din’s away on a long job, he gives you a holotransceiver and sends you transmissions to keep you both at ease.

purpose • fem!reader As the daughter of an Imperial senator, the Mandalorian’s hired as your bodyguard—but with the twisted ideals of your father putting you at risk, he becomes so much more than that.

irrevocable • reader After a hunt goes wrong and Din gets captured, you go after him and save him, but you find that they’ve removed his helmet and have done him personal damage that will last for much longer.

mine* • fem!reader With tensions rising not only in the galaxy but also in your relationship, Din proves to you in a new way that he’ll take care of you.

never alone • fem!reader In the aftermath of a bad nightmare, Din receives comfort from an unexpected source: his daughter.

tresses • reader When Din’s hair becomes the object of your and the baby’s affections, he decides it’s time for a trim—although he’s hesitant for a reason you must discover.

enervation • reader Din returns home from his new job as exhausted as ever, begging you to join him in sleep—and trying to make it happen at all costs.

take care • reader After Din sustains an injury on a job, you have to help him take care of himself—something he grows more and more fond of.

affliction • fem!reader When you and Din get recognized at an Imperial gala, you’re both taken into custody, where they begin to use Din to get you to talk—and lead you to do something completely unexpected.

take it off* • reader Your new ally extends his hospitality a little too far—and now Din’s determined to remind you of what he alone can provide you with.

cozy in the cockpit • reader After the Crest suffers through an intense chase and crash, you and Din must figure out how to survive on a freezing planet—your low odds causing your mutual feelings to come to the surface.

beneath the surface • reader You and Din get double-crossed when trying to find other Mandalorians, putting all three of you in deep waters.

touch it softly • reader When you invite Din to play with your hair, you both get a little more than lost in the moment.

alleviation • reader You continue helping Din recover from the traumatizing removal of his helmet, trying to make him understand that it’s okay to not be okay. (part two of Irrevocable)

the right thing • reader Din returns to you on Nevarro after the mission on Moff Gideon’s cruiser—without the child.

ni ceta par gar (i kneel for you)* • reader When Mando needs emotional release, you seek to fulfill your pining by offering something neither one of you can resist—something that could change everything.

in my head • reader The thought of Din plagues your mind—and it won’t be long until it’s forced onto your lips.

the marshal • fem!oc Din covers his face. So does she. Shrouded in mystery and unable to admit their shared intimidation, the two must work together to save Mos Pelgo—for both their sakes.

hold me in hyperspace • reader After a long hunt, you think Mando just wants some rest—but really, he just wants you.

ner yaim (my home) • reader After a day of work, you get to come home to Din, who’s fitting into his new role well.

mureyca (kiss) • reader The story of the different ways in which you share a kiss with the Mandalorian.

aftermath • omera After his quest has been fulfilled, Din returns to Sorgan, needing the comfort and support of someone he could never forget.

stay • omera Din wrestles with his feelings for Omera and tries to tell her how she feels—but has to let her in first.

torrent • reader When one of Din’s worst fears is revealed, you’re left to do whatever you can to put him at ease.

enterprise • cassian andor, k2so When Mando’s quarry offers him a better deal, he finds himself getting involved in more than he originally bargained for.

bloom • reader With your relationship now in full blossom, a flustered Din takes you on your first date, where he does everything he can to tell you how you make him feel.

malevolence • grogu Din experiences the ghastly side effects of wielding the famed Darksaber.

before i go • reader Imperial occupation of your covert as well as your mind lead to a devastating confrontation between you and your past Mandalorian lover.

favorite crime • reader When your ex-partner-in-crime and past lover enters your life again, you find yourself looking back on fond memories with a tremendous desire to chase them again.

solace • reader Din reassures you when your perfectionist tendencies catch up to you.

foster • obi-wan kenobi Obi-Wan comes across an orphan named Din that he can’t help taking under his wing.

intemperate • reader Mando’s indulgence in liquid courage leads him to say things you never thought you’d hear—and will never forget.

scars • reader When Din shows unprecedented hatred for his battle-worn body, it’s up to you to reassure him of everything you love about it.

seeking serenity • reader Mando, overcome with anxiety in the aftermath of a risky event, needs you to bring him back to reality—and asks for much more along the way.

liberation • reader You lead a mission to free Din from an Imperial hideout, only to discover that he’s in need of you much more than you originally thought.

contrition • reader Din comforts you after you do something drastic to save his life.

bring me home • reader You reunite with your Mandalorian lover after a long separation and realize much has changed since you last him.

safety net • deaf!reader When you and Din are reunited after a hunt that goes longer than expected, your mutual feelings for each other finally bubble to the surface—regardless of the fears you’ve both buried deep within.

selfish • reader Din, who’s helplessly in love with you, is forced to watch you and your partner until he’s forced to come to terms with his feelings.

united we fall • reader Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind.

of bounties and bartenders • fem!reader The mysterious Din “Brown Eyes” Djarin returns to visit you after a job, but trouble is the last thing he’s left behind.

as it was • din djarin’s parents The living waters beneath Mandalore bring Din back to a place—and a people—he never thought he’d see again.

people watching • grogu Observation was a skill Din Djarin had mastered for his own safety, but now it sets the scene for his very own destruction.

astronomy • reader Crossing paths with a seriously injured Din forces the two of you to come to terms with your relationship.

stardust • reader You finally reunite with your Mandalorian lover, just to learn a devastating truth.

fine line • reader Din tries his best to comfort you in the aftermath of your torturous capture.

scarlet promise • reader Vengeance consumes you when Din’s put at risk, causing him to have to pull you back to reality.

what sits in the silence • reader Your bounty-hunting rival turns to you in his time of need and brings along more baggage than you planned on handling.

when a house becomes a home • reader A new home brings new responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can teach Din how to cook a proper meal: you.

takes one to know one • reader Bounty hunters aren’t supposed to fall in love and you were okay with that. So was the Mandalorian.

love me louder • reader Your secret romance with the Mandalorian is put at risk when you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

shattered • reader When an anxious day gets the best of you, Din seeks to comfort you.

the broken who blossom • reader At long last, Din’s returned home to the covert, but he’s brought a lot more home with him than anticipated.

in sickness & in health • reader Din does his best to comfort you when you become anxious about your health.

doomsday • reader You and Din are interrogated by Moff Gideon, who has quickly realized you’re the best weapon he has to use against the Mandalorian.

i still see you • reader In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

fight for me • reader When Din starts to get harassed at a cantina, you can’t help jumping in to defend him at all costs.

right where you left me • reader Din reunites with you many years after your whirlwind romance for a mission you begrudgingly accept to help him with.

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin x omera #masterlist #masterlists #dindjarindiaries

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draculasfavoritewife · 5 months ago

Text

Hunted

Summary: Tatooine is a planet filled with old ghosts, and when one of yours rears its ugly head again, your Mandalorian takes matters into his own capable hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and minor OC death at the end. Allusions to hunter/prey roleplay and bondage, my voice kink makes a couple of cameo appearances. I the writer was particularly thirsty for Din Djarin the day I wrote this and thus take full responsibility for the results.

This is really one of the most blatantly self-indulgent things I've written, born of many long daydreaming sessions and my love for any episode where my man rubs elbows with the delightful and despicable denizens of the OG desert planet. I truly can't explain it, Tatooine Din™️ just hits me different, so please enjoy this very long fic about it.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You step into the crowded main street of the city, taking a moment to let all of your senses adjust to the stark difference. The last week or so has been spent on the ship in a cold vacuum, the gleaming blur of hyperspace and the steady thrum of engines a constant gentle halo in the background. It was nice, if a little quiet for your personal taste. Your partner certainly doesn’t talk much, and you tend to spend much of your time alone with him less conversationally inclined as a result.

He’s rubbed off on you that way.

Now the twin suns of Tatooine scorch down on you from above, making eyes that have become accustomed to soft darkness sting. A throng of street vendors, lowlifes, and ne’er-do-wells streams through the ragtag market on all sides, moving bodies chattering nonstop in floods of Basic, Huttese, Aqualish, Droid, and snatches of more exotic tongues.

A moment, and you feel yourself suddenly at ease again, as your brain resets back to your old lifestyle in the Core Worlds. It feels like putting on a well-loved shaak-leather coat that remembers all your contours just right.

“You look happy,” the Mandalorian observes from beside you.

You always wonder about him, how he's actually faring under that helmet, so shiny in this harsh light that you come away with spots in your vision after glancing at him too long. Din walks with the easy confidence of a man that’s walked these alleys many times before, but you know him more personally than most. He’s a quiet man under that shell, one who vastly prefers his solitude and finds the company of most beings in the galaxy a soul-stealing chore after two minutes.

And unlike you, he never relaxes.

“I am.” You side-eye him, briefly admiring his prowling stride as he diligently scans the moving figures surrounding the pair of you. “Sometimes I really like big crowds.”

“You’re crazy,” he remarks. “This many people add too many variables.”

“Your comment stands.” You draw closer to him in order to reach into the satchel slung across his body and ruffle the Kid’s long ears. “But to me, it’s almost easier. I can usually read people’s intentions pretty well. Bodies speak louder in crowds.”

“I suppose.” He hasn’t stopped his surveillance yet. You can guess at how his eyes are darting here and there beneath the visor. He probably has at least two escape routes planned out already, if not more.

You want nothing more than to tell him to relax and enjoy himself — you’re not even here on hunter business, simply to refuel and stock up on supplies before your next run — but you know that’s a useless endeavor.

“I found that strangely hot, by the way,” you say instead, since it HAS been taking up space in your mind for some time.

“What?”

“Finding out you speak Tusken. That’s VERY attractive.”

It was. When he had to negotiate with the scouts on your way into town, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at hearing his low, smoky voice bark out the harsh sounds as he supplemented his meaning with crisp sign language.

And besides the sound of it, you certainly find it very hot for a man of his stature to be so willing and ready to communicate and settle fraught situations peacefully.

“I — what — I don’t — ?”

It still makes you grin, how easily flustered he is when you catch him off-guard with flirting.

“Don’t you think so, Grogu?” You poke the Kid’s tiny nose. “Isn’t it attractive when your buir talks like that?”

The little one squeals enthusiastically in response, probably more to your teasing than the actual question.

“Stop that, don’t encourage her.” Din casts a disapproving look first at the Kid and then at you; it strikes you as funny how well you can translate such a simple tilt of the helmet. “And don’t you ask him that, he’s just a kid.”

“I think you’re blushing under that bucket,” you smirk, sidling away.

“I’m not.”

You subside with the teasing for the time being, and the Mandalorian releases a sigh of relief as you start wandering, letting handmade jewelry and stoneware snatch your attention away from him. He’s getting better at keeping up with your rapid changes of interest, but somehow your more romantic moods still manage to get the better of him when you’re out in public.

He blames the environment. When it’s just the two of you alone, he can see what’s coming in the slant of your lips or the way you suddenly decide to plant yourself right in front of whatever he’s working on. And he’s almost as likely to initiate now, so long as the Kid’s not in the same room. But out here, as his field of vision constantly shifts in the sea of bodies, and his right hand drifts between Grogu in his satchel and the pistol at his hip, he just doesn’t possess the bandwidth to also process what the kriff could possibly turn you on so much about his language skills.

He tucks that particular piece of information away in a metaphorical corner, to dissect and possibly use at a later time.

You return to him after your little side trip, flirtation seemingly forgotten for now. “I saw a ring at that one booth —” you gesture over your shoulder “— that I’m almost positive is dolovite. So pretty. I’m not even sure the vendor knows what he’s got. It’s tempting.”

“I bet.” He notes the tone of your voice, the way you glance back one more time as the pair of you move on.

“But we are here for the essentials, first and foremost. Maybe if it’s still there by the end of the day.”

He nods thoughtfully, and listens as you ramble through the list of what the three of you need, both in terms of provisions and to keep the ship flying.

The sooner you’re all able to leave this crowd and noise behind, the better.

He doesn’t care for the feeling that his little clan’s safety isn’t completely under his control.

Hours later, stewardship of the satchel carrying the Kid has passed over to you. Din carries the day��s purchases, slung from either end of the pole balanced across his wide shoulders. He watches affectionately from behind his immobile visage of beskar at the sight of you spiritedly haggling with a Twi’lek vendor over the price of fruit. The arm not being used to illustrate your point cradles Grogu, half-asleep, close to your torso, and it touches something deep inside him, to see you care for his foundling so naturally.

The image almost — almost — lulls him into something resembling a dangerous sense of peace.

Almost, but not quite.

Which is why, when the blaster bolt narrowly misses your shoulder and instead blows a crate of produce into a violently sticky explosion, he’s only a half-second slower than he normally would be as he pivots sharply and yanks out his own weapon. His shot drops the sniper leaning out of a second-story window across the street, a Rodian crumpling to the ground in a tangle of ragged cloak.

His armor-clad body is positioned in front of you in another second, keeping you and the Kid sandwiched between the booth and his beskar as he rapidly searches for any more guns to rear their ugly muzzles.

The market has dissolved into chaos around you, but no more fire is heard.

You slip your DL-44 out of your back holster with one hand and push the satchel carrying Grogu further out of the way with the other. The road had cleared in seconds, the trembling fruit vendor ducking down behind his wares. The atmosphere is suddenly quiet, too many people holding their breaths all at once.

“See anything?” you whisper to Din.

“Negative,” he mutters back. “He was acting alone, or else the others have retreated. Looking for heat signatures is useless, they’re everywhere here.”

A grim suspicion starts to rise in your chest, but you keep your voice removed as you step from behind him and give him a sharp nod. “Cover me? I need to take a look at our shooter.”

He stalks behind you as you cross, your trigger finger settling into its well-worn spot in readiness. Grogu is silent; only the tips of his giant ears poke up from the top of the bag.

For a kid, he’s been in enough firefights to know the drill by now.

Arriving beside the smoking form of the Rodian, you flip him over and push aside the cloak, your hand drawing back when you see exactly what you were afraid you would find.

The sigil of a sand ape emblazoned on his jacket in red.

“Talk to me,” Din urges, voice tight. “Do you know why he was targeting you?”

You straighten up and bite your lip for a second, struggling over the best way to break the news to him. You’d thought it was long enough ago that old scores would be forgotten, but on Tatooine, grudges rarely die, instead simmering deep beneath the filth like a krayt dragon awaiting its next meal.

And now you’ve unwittingly brought your riduur and his ad’ika into danger.

“I lived in Mos Eisley for a bit at one point.” You sigh. “And I left under…difficult circumstances. I’m a bit of a loose end as far as a local gang is concerned, Din. They paid well for some mercenary jobs — it was a nice temporary setup. Last hit I was hired for turned out to have a Guild bounty on him though, and they paid more to have him delivered alive. I saw a business opportunity and didn’t look back. But I made some powerful people here pretty angry.”

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath. You can nearly hear his exasperated thoughts — can’t I have ONE uneventful outing? Just ONE? — but he shakes it off swiftly and is soon all business again, his next query clipped and brusque. “Does he have a tracking fob?”

You shake your head. “They don’t want Guild here anymore, if you recall. No, it’ll be a more intimate affair, I’d bet my blades on that. This is about revenge and closure; if there’s a reward payout it’s from the boss man himself, and probably only advertised by word of mouth.”

The Mandalorian refocuses his thoughts from where they ever so briefly derailed at your casual misuse of the term “intimate affair” and grunts his acknowledgment. “I gather the boss man wants you alive, then?”

You laugh, a dry, ironic sound. “Oh, he will. I have a feeling he wants to watch me suffer a bit before he kills me. Or who knows?” With a shrug, you shove the body into an alleyway and return to where you both left your purchases, only the dance of your tense fingers across the grip of your blaster giving away your readiness to protect yourself. “Maybe he’ll make me his own personal slave instead. I knew all that club dancing I did would come in handy someday.”

Din makes a hissing sound of annoyance at your flippant tongue as he follows. There’s something about the way you can talk so carelessly about such degrading fates that truly distresses him. He knows you don’t need his protection on the same level the Kid does, but the thought of either of those options actually befalling you under his watch makes his hands clench into fists, leather gloves protesting as they stretch across his knuckles. But he knows too, that dark humor is often your way of dealing with stress, so he endeavors to let it slide and not see red.

“Do you know where he is?” he demands suddenly.

“The boss man? I used to. And there are people I could ask.” You take the satchel with the Kid off and hand it back to him, opting to take the parcels instead. He can fight with a baby strapped to him better than you can, and knowing you’re the primary target this time, you’d rather keep him safer. “Why?”

“Later.” His voice has gone tense again, he must have seen something you don’t. “Right now we have to get out of here. You’re too exposed.”

Your gaze falls on a nearby speeder bike with no obvious owner nearby. “They’ve gotten lax without me around,” you smirk, straddling the bike and revving its powerful engine. “Leaving their valuables all helpless and unattended. It’s a real shame.”

The Mandalorian is staring at you, the drop of his shoulders suggesting surprise at your brazenness.

“Get on,” you encourage him, laying the carrying pole across the seat behind you. “You’re getting twitchy, so there must be trouble. What’s got your cape in a twist?”

He takes a seat behind you and settles his pulse rifle across his knees. “There’s a couple more in similar jackets closing in,” he reveals in an undertone. “And I just haven’t seen you…steal a vehicle before, is all.”

A shot pings over his helmet before you can properly react to that.

“Drive!” he orders, pivoting to return fire.

You oblige, gunning the motor and tearing off down the main thoroughfare. “There’s still a few things you haven’t seen me do, Cyare,” you toss back as he dusts one of the gang members on your way past. “You and the Kid made me go soft.”

He huffs doubtfully and nods to a narrow opening between buildings up ahead. “Can you get us out of sight?”

“If you hang on tight enough.” You execute a tight turn at the last moment and shoot down the alley, glad the bike is compact enough to follow the cramped tunnel between the crumbling dwellings. “It’s gonna be rough ’til we’re in the open, though.”

Din doesn’t answer in words, but his free arm wraps around your waist and you can feel the Kid’s small body tucked between the two of you.

And it’s almost an oddly pleasant feeling, outrunning any would-be pursuers with the two of them held so close.

By the end of the hour, supplies have been loaded into the ship and Grogu has been left in the doting care of Peli, who as always is more than happy to entertain the little guy as long as you and Din keep trouble far away from her repair station. You and the Mandalorian are now camped out on a rooftop overlooking the marketplace, a tattered fabric canopy mercifully providing some scant relief from the sunlight if not the oppressive heat. As always, your riduur appears totally indifferent to such a thing as physical discomfort, leaning out from under the awning to scope the street below through the sight of his rifle.

Does his armor have an internal cooling system? Or are Mandalorians really just that tough?

“You know, we could just leave,” you finally suggest. “It’s not like this particular group ever goes off-world.”

“We could.”

You can tell there’s a reason why he won’t.

“But I return to Tatooine semi-frequently. And I don’t want you to constantly be looking over your shoulder every time.”

You sit back with a sigh, idly tuning up your blaster. His ways are still foreign to you sometimes. Before your partnership, you made a life depending on adaptability and quick thinking. Having only yourself to worry about, and knowing there was no one else out there worrying about you, made it easier to simply uproot and go elsewhere whenever the heat was on you.

Din is nearly the opposite. If there’s a way he can make things more secure for those in his care, if there’s a good enough reason, he won’t ever back down from a struggle.

He already has his mind made up.

It’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re the good enough reason this time.

“What are you thinking, then?” you prompt.

He doesn’t break his focus on the area below as he answers. “I’m thinking I just killed a couple gang members and got some interesting information out of them. I’m ex-Guild and looking for work, and being a ruthless mercenary, I might just be willing to turn on a crew member if the price is right.”

You can’t help your sudden intake of breath at his ingenious plan. “And once we get there?”

He finally turns to face you, his next words cold and hard as tempered beskar. “Then we kill him.”

And there’s something a little bit more menacing in there than simple pragmatism. He has taken on the role of cabur for you and the Kid; this isn’t just about keeping trouble off your backs in future.

Someone has threatened you, and he will not rest until that threat has been put down.

That is his duty, and he will not shirk it.

“I love you,” you murmur, barely above the hot breeze that rakes through your hair.

He rises to his feet, shoulders his rifle. “And I you. Which is why we’re going to have to make this look convincing. You get a two-minute head start. Whenever you’re ready.”

You swipe a dull sand-colored cloak from a stall as you pass, immediately diving into the heart of the throng, which seems to have recovered from the earlier incident. Mos Eisley is nothing if not desensitized to crime and violence, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in awe at the apathy of the average citizen as you let the flow of movement carry you along. Nobody cares what happens around here, so long as it doesn’t happen to them.

It’s…odd, to remember how it felt to think that way.

Shaking yourself back into the moment, you weave between beings of all shapes and sizes, focusing on making yourself forgettable and not appearing in too much of a hurry. You know Din will find you no matter where you end up — he’s just too good at his job not to. So for the moment you let yourself enjoy this little game, a moment spent as the quarry of a very desirable predator.

It would be a lie to say you haven’t fantasized about this before.

A ripple passes through the crowd to your left and behind you, people shifting to make room, like river currents split by a large stone. Only one person you know could possibly cause such a stir.

Only idiots choose to stand in the way of a hunting Mandalorian.

Which means he’s here.

Your heart accelerates and you try to think of a way to stall him just a little longer. Reluctantly pulling a few credits from your belt pouch, you regretfully let them scatter in the dust, knowing the only thing that reliably beats fear is greed. The people nearest to you devolve into pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get their hands on them, a writhing wall springing up between you and your pursuer.

With a grin, you slip backwards, drifting in the opposite direction of where you had been headed before, catching the barest glimpse of sun glaring off metal as you pass.

That's a little longer.

He’ll expect you to be thinking the way he thinks, not the way you do, so you stamp down the inclination to think that way and instead travel into a seedier part of town, seeking out more raucous company. Wandering through cantinas and gambling dens, you pick up a refreshing blue milk along the way and almost start to let the tension ebb from your muscles. But when you see him emerge from the street and gaze through the window of the same building you were just about to exit, your adrenaline shoots up again. A dash through a maze of alleys and one stolen ride on the back of a droid rickshaw later, and even you aren’t so sure what part of the city you’ve made it to.

The twin suns are finally beginning to sink lower in the sky as you thoughtfully chew on a piece of bantha jerky and walk through a crowded residential section, no doubt where the lower classes live. It’s much quieter here, the low-income strata not having the credits to spend on frivolities at the market.

It’s almost…too quiet.

You hear him before you see him, an almost deceptively musical clink of the explosive charges on his belt against his vambrace as his arm brushes past. There’s nowhere to run anymore, so you pull back your hood with an admittedly dramatic flourish and discard your savory treat, hands sliding to the twin vibroblades sheathed at your thighs.

“So, its finally come to this, Mando.” You pull your knives and take up a fighting stance. “No use in trying to sweet-talk you out of this, is there?”

He doesn’t answer, just pulls his own blade and gestures with his chin as if saying “Try me”.

So you do.

The pair of you has sparred many times before, and this altercation is brief but outwardly brutal. Finesse is nice, but necessity calls for any potential advantage to be pressed and pressed hard. For the agility your much lighter choice of clothing grants you, you can’t dent him when fully armored, so finally you resort to simple but effective tactics and throw dust in his face.

Even a visor with a heat sensor takes a second to recalibrate from that.

You do, however, have a scripted ending for this outing, and as you sprint off, his grappling cable snakes around your hips and down your legs, dropping you in the sand. He strides up to you, tosses a pair of binders down next to you.

“Cuff yourself,” he orders, breath coming in heavy pants after your scuffle. “I’m taking you in.”

And since it’s him who just captured you, who would have captured you eventually no matter what because he’s just THAT good, you don’t mind.

No, you reflect as he hefts you over his shoulder and walks away from the few scattered spectators your fight drew out, you really don’t mind this arrangement at all.

Maybe you’ll have to tell him that, later.

Your former employer’s headquarters are still where you remember them, and you almost smirk at the sense of uncomfortable familiarity when Din lowers you to the floor and unties your legs. Still cuffed — and a bit tired after spending the afternoon trying to outwit the best hunter in the parsec — it’s not difficult to look angry and beaten down, kneeling there in the dust.

The boss man rises from his seat at the table, a hulking Devaronian with a chipped horn and a hungry grimace. He swaggers over, nods at the Mandalorian standing behind you.

“I suppose I can turn a blind eye at the loss of a few good men for this. You have absolutely no idea how this one little troublesome scavenger has been occupying my thoughts.”

Din remains silent, simply holding out a hand, a wordless demand for payment.

Your old boss grins, nods to a couple of lackeys to bring over the credits, hauls you to your feet by the back of your shirt.

The Mandalorian’s hand brushes past your leg as you move, and one of your knives is quietly returned to its sheath.

“Since you turned tail and ran so quickly after disobeying me, I assume you have some idea of what I do to clever little turncoats, don’t you?” sneers the Devaronian, leaning altogether too close for your liking.

Your cuffed hands lower in seeming fear as you shrink beneath his intimidating glare.

“This is going to be fun,” he threatens, a hand drawing up your neck and along your jaw. “You need to learn some respect, and I’m going to —”

The vibroblade sunk deep into his chest cuts his words off rather suddenly.

There’s a lot you can still do, even in binders.

The outraged lackeys are swiftly dropped by precise shots from Din, and the two of you are left gazing at each other in a now oddly quiet room.

“I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fun’," you remark to your limp ex-boss, crouching to retrieve your knife. “A little anticlimactic, actually. Bit of a shame I had to do that. But also satisfying to see your plan turn out so well, don’t you think, Mando?”

Din doesn’t answer right away, tucking away the bounty that he earned by catching you. “We should be on our way,” is what he finally grunts. “There’ll be more gang members swarming this place any minute now.”

“I agree.” Rising to stand in front of him, you hold out your arms expectantly, casting a flirty smile up at his dark visor. “And, much as I enjoyed being your prisoner for a day, you can let me go now.”

There’s a long pause.

He stares down at your bound wrists, up at your face, down at your wrists again. He appears to be pondering something very intently, and your breath turns a little choppy for some reason.

“I don’t think I will,” he says simply, after a little more consideration.

“You won’t?”

“Not yet.” His large hands tenderly find your hips, and he throws you over his shoulder again, walking out the exact same way you came in. “You’ve caused me quite a day here, you know. Keeping track of you like this might be the only way to make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.”

“What would happen if I screamed ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped!’ as you carry me down the street?”

He snorts. “No one’s going to help you here, Cyar’ika. Who’s going to challenge a Mandalorian over his prisoner?”

You smirk. “No one in their right mind.”

“Besides, you just said you enjoyed this.” There it is, a sly edge to his filtered voice, the indicator that he has more going on in his mind than simply staying out of more trouble.

“Oh no, caught by an attractive bounty hunter! I’ll probably never see the light of day again.” You groan dramatically and drape yourself a bit more comfortably as he loosens up into an easier stride. “I’m completely at his mercy — who KNOWS what devious things he’ll do to me behind closed doors?”

“This bounty hunter is hot and tired, and in need of a shower, if that gives you any consolation.”

“Ah.” You poke him in the back. “Are you saying you’re all sweaty under this shiny shell, Cyare?”

A hand slides up the back of your thigh, a subtle reminder that you ARE currently at his mercy, as you just said.

Undeterred, you try again, knowing he must be getting more riled up than he lets on. “Have I ever told you how much I like it, when you take all these awful layers off for me and you’re all sweaty underneath…?”

“I would rein in my suggestive tongue a little, if I were you.” He’s still looking straight ahead, but the edge beneath his words is a bit more strained now. “If you behave for me until we get back to the ship, maybe I’ll even take those binders off.”

“And if I don’t?”

He sighs. “My belt compartment back there. Take a look.”

You manage to get it open, and can’t quite stifle a delighted sound as you pull out the dolovite ring from much earlier. “You sneaky son of a — ! How — ?”

“I gave you a two-minute head start,” he shrugs, by way of explanation.

“I adore you,” you inform him as you slip the ring onto your finger, admiring its burnished color. “I’ll be a good little prisoner for you, Mando, I promise. And who knows…,” you nudge him again. “Maybe I’ll let you keep these binders on me after all, since you’ve been so good to me today.”

He can’t find anything to say to that, but by the fact that you can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck in that tantalizing gap between cowl and helmet, you know he’s definitely sweating now, if he weren’t before.

“Is my big bad bounty hunter at a loss for words?” you tease softly.

He clears his throat. “Just saving my voice, Mesh’la. If you’re REALLY well-behaved, I might — possibly — be persuaded to talk Tusken to you later. Possibly.”

The idea takes a moment to fully crystallize in your brain; Din, and a shower, and binders, and if you just stop teasing him so naughtily in public he might actually bring that unreasonably provocative language into the bedroom?

You finally let yourself relax into his hold, and after a bit you hear his breathy sigh of relief that you aren’t going to keep tormenting him anymore for the moment.

After all, he has put forth an offer you can’t refuse.

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Cabur = Protector

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #x reader #female reader #bounty hunter #star wars #mandalorian and grogu #suggestive #romance #this is the way #my love #my husband #he's got me in a chokehold always #just a regular tuesday for us #no im not kinky why would you say that #got me feeling some type of way #idk i think he's hot

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apricityxoxo · 10 months ago

Text

Uncertainty II

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

hello yall this is pt 2 of this!

Din Djarin x fem!Reader

wc: 3,090

Summary: You are confused, you're always confused around him. He's always on your mind and you don't know why. You hate it. You always put a bit more effort around him. You want to impress him and you don't know why. Maybe it is because he's so irritating.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Info/Warning: angst, fluff, suggestive material (teeny tiny part not a lot), argument, an oc makes an appearance. lmk if I forgot anything. remember when i write i always have poc in mind, especially black women.

enjoy

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So, he’s amazing…that’s all you have to say. He’s absolutely perfect and it doesn’t get any better. You know that absolute perfection is basically impossible but if anyone is perfect, it's him, you want him to be here forever.

His big eyes and green face are the most adorable things created by the Maker. Even though he has wrinkles and the fact that he has hair but is bald at the same time, he’s still cute. You feel like during these two weeks something changed in you because you immediately wanted to keep him forever.

If this child was a flower, he would have bloomed overnight. You watch as he makes himself comfortable in your home, making a fort with pillows to sleep on the floor. You watched as he played with the trinkets you had lying around. He tried to bring live frogs into your home, which gave you a mini heart attack from reacting quickly to get the slimy amphibian from your home, as gross as that was at least he was comfortable to try.

Not only did he grow comfortable with you, but with your other students and kids that you taught. You told the Mandalorian during the day the child would accompany you to the school. He would sit in on the classes where you would teach him with the other children and pack him lunches so that he could eat during breaks.

The Mandalorian dared to disagree with you, to suggest that you cancel two weeks of school so you can focus entirely on the kid. “First of all, you’re not the only one with responsibilities, my students are also my responsibility. Second, I’ve taken care of children since I was still merely a child and it might do him some good to spend time with other kids.” You told the Mandalorian, now extremely irritated, he didn’t trust you and now he’s trying to tell you what to do.

You’re glad the Mandalorian reluctantly agreed because per usual, you were right. He made friends immediately; all of your students loved him. The child became more talkative, even though no one could understand him, he was a social butterfly. He made friends and played with them, ate with them, and learned with them.

When you woke, you were excited. Today was the day the Mandalorian will return, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Definitely not because you want to see him, you’re just excited to share with him how well his son did, how much he grew in two weeks. You want to tell him, suggest to him that while he’s on Nevarro the child should be enrolled in school.

You get up from your small bed and start your morning routine. This morning is different, this morning you put in a bit more effort and you don’t know why. Why do look at your face a little more closely this morning? It's definitely not because of that feeling you get whenever you are around him.

You think back to the day when he dropped off the child.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Thank you for watching him…” he says in an uncertain tone. That irritated you, you feel like he thinks you’re incompetent. He’s always given off those “vibes”. Maybe he hates you? Maybe he thinks, you’re not skilled enough to watch his son? He’s always sent you these mixed signals.

“It’s not a problem,” you said annoyed.

“Remember to watch him, don’t let him put anything in his mouth, don’t let strangers near him, and if anything goes wrong call me, my transceiver is always on. My transceiver code is 7 -”

“-75292MRC?” you cut him off, he’s told you all this at least four times, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Um yes that’s right…” he’s said followed by an awkward silence.

“And um…thank you, I’ve never left him alone this long before so I apologize if I’ve been… irritating.” He says, sounding shy.

You feel bad now, what’s wrong with you? Of course, he’s skeptical of you, you would be the exact same way if you had to leave your child alone with someone you barely knew for so long. You’re about to apologize but then he takes both of your hands and you go mute.

“Thank you… sincerely. I know you do a lot for the children here so I’m so grateful you agreed to watch my son.”

You’re stunned and all you can do is nod to him. Before he lets go of your hands, he gives them a gentle squeeze. He walks over to his son and talks to him with a stern tone before giving him a hug, probably telling him to behave. He picks up his son and walks back to you and you feel your heart racing. He hands you his son and you jut out your hip to carry him on your side.

Even though you can’t see his eyes, you feel like he looks you up and down. He stares at you for a second before he finally says goodbye to you, and you’ve never felt so warm from someone just saying your name. And you stare as he walks off.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You put more effort this morning, you do your makeup with a little bit more focus. You try to accentuate your features, like your lips. You add a nice dark outline to them, adding a nice neutral color to the middle. You add a little color to your eyes, making them darker with a bit of brown pigment, you feel you look natural but different. You unwrap the scarf you put on your head last night. You were excited, so excited that you prepped your hair to be styled in the morning. You spend the rest of your morning styling your hair, taking your time instead of just wrapping your hair in a scarf and calling it a day.

You put on a brown wrap dress that was the color of Caf. The dress had a low-cut V-neck, definitely lower than you're used to wearing. It has long flowy sleeves that are wide at the end. The dress is long and you pair it with some boots. You add some jewelry and finish by admiring yourself in the mirror.

You even go as far as wanting to spray a bit of perfume. You look at your perfumes “Which would he like?” you ask yourself. You internally cringe because who cares which he would like, you for sure don’t. You settle on your favorite, a warm and mature perfume that you haven’t worn in a while. You usually spray this perfume when you go out with your friends or on special occasions, today feels like a special occasion.

When you finish spraying, the baby monitor goes off. The child is up and whining, he's definitely hungry. You need to make him some breakfast and soon, if you learned anything in the couple of weeks it's that this child can eat. You prepare a full breakfast, a traditional breakfast from your home planet Lah’mu.

You get sentimental while cooking food from your home. You make a traditional grain and you top it with an assortment of vegetables that look like the ones you grew on your family farm. You top it off with three large eggs.

You talk to the kid while you cook, and ask if he’s excited to see his dad. You tell him about the food you’re making, you tell him the origin. You tell him what ingredients to use like which vegetables are necessary, which rice grain is best, and which seasoning must be added. You know he can’t understand you but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. You finish his food and serve it to him.

“Enjoy cutie, should I make more for your da-” Before you can finish you are cut off by a deep groaning sound coming from your kitchen sink. You rush over to inspect the sink and open the bottom cabinet to look at the pipes. You have a leak. Now you’re irritated. Irritated by the problems you get from owning an old home. The creaky floors that make it impossible to sneak up on anyone, the outdated appliances that require older parts when being fixed, the uneven stair steps inside and out of the house, and now a leaking kitchen sink pipe.

“Kriff!” you curse to yourself, looking for a bucket to place under the sink. When you place the bucket under your sink you search for your transceiver. You start to dial the

number by memory but before you hit ‘Enter’ you hesitate, it takes you a second but if you want this to be fixed you need to call.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Thank you for coming, I know it's short notice and you usually need to make an appointment so I'm sorr-”

“Don’t worry about it Mama” he cuts off your rambling with a wink and a cocky smile.

Mazian Xorsson, you’ve known him for a long time now, he’s definitely…interesting. He’s around your age. He’s very tall and you always see his physique under the tight black shirts he always wears. He has short buzzed hair that is a nice golden blond color and light skin. He had dark deep brown eyes and you’ve always had a thing for deep brown eyes.

He’s nice to you at least, he's a bit cocky and a big flirt however he's very considerate and funny. He was one of the first people you met when you moved to Nevarro. He helped you move and spent time with you when you felt lonely. When you first met, you asked what he did for work, he told you a little bit of anything, he was a handyman and plumber, and he even knew a good amount about fixing ships. Those were good jobs but that never explained why he always seemed to have money. He made you nervous in a good way, but not the same the Mandalorian made you feel.

You internally want to beat yourself up because why are you thinking about the Mandalorian right now. You literally have a tall and handsome man in your house right now.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask going to get your wallet.

“C’mon, you know you don’t owe me anything,” he says with a smile

“Pleaseeeee Maz, I didn’t pay you when you fixed the fresher! Let me pay you” you whined

“You can pay me with a kiss,” he says with a wink and turns his cheek to you.

You roll your eyes and begin to walk away, not before saying “You're such a flirt” You go to the kitchen and see that the baby has finished his food already and he looks at you with a giggle. You pick him up and take him out to the family room walking past Maz as he walks into the kitchen with all his tools.

You sit and you wait for the Mandalorian, your knee is bouncing and you don’t know why. The kid is in your lap playing with the belt of your wrap dress as you zone out waiting for the Mandalorian.

You jolt when you hear a knock at the door and run to the door with the baby in your arms. You check the peephole and see a ‘T’ shaped visor looking around your front porch. You give yourself a second to try and catch your breath but you open the door when you see he is going to knock again

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

“Good morning,” he says back.

“Come in,” you say and move to the side so he can step in. He goes to sit down on the deep armchair you have that’s facing the couch. He sits down and adjusts himself by spreading his legs, wide. You look at his thick armored thighs and you feel like you're being disrespectful. You shake those thoughts out of your mind and walk close to him to hand him his adorable son.

“He did such a wonderful job, you have such a great baby,” you tell him with a big and bright smile on your face. You tell him how he made friends and how talkative he has become even though you can't understand him. You tell him about the things you tried to teach him and how well of a learner he is. You told him how good he ate and all the new foods he tried, for some reason, he’s not a fan of poultry but a big fan of red meats and eggs. He's an angel and you made sure to remind Mando of such.

“Maybe when you’re here… he can come over or visit the school?” you say quite shyly.

“Yeah maybe, I think he'd like that…” he replies

You try to suppress your smile, excited not only to spend time with the kid but also to see the infamous Mandalorian more often.

“Alright, I’m all done but I’m still waiting for that ki-… oh I didn’t realize you’re having guests,” Maz says as he enters the room and sees the Mandalorian. You and Mando both stand but the Mandalorian stays and watches as you walk over to the man.

You walk over to your purse and find your wallet to give him the credits. “Here, this is all I have but I should have more by the end of the month”.

“It’s all good, don’t worry about it” Maz replied

You both went back and forth for a few minutes and you could feel the Mandalorian staring at you. You finally give up and thank Maz for his work, you see him out and give him a hug before he leaves.

Awkward. That’s how you felt, that’s how the room felt.

“Anyway, how wa-”

“Who was that?” he said, his voice stern and serious. He said it like he knew the answer.

“My friend, Maz… my sink broke so I called him to fix it.” You said and you hated that you sounded so nervous.

“I thought I told you, no strangers. “He said, he took a step closer to you.

“You did, he’s not a stranger”

“He’s a stranger to me”

“Everyone’s a stranger to you, he’s my friend and I trust him,” You told him with an attitude, ‘why is he always questioning you like a child’ you thought to yourself.

“I asked you to watch my son and you can’t follow some simple rules”

You’re pissed. You’re mad and you feel disrespected. “Why are you treating me like a child, I followed your rules and I would never let a stranger near your child, let alone in my damn house. I’m not an idiot so stop treating me like one.”

“Stop acting like one. Why can’t you follow some simple rules? Do you think I’ll ever let you watch my kid again?” He argued.

That broke your heart. You only spent two weeks with the kid and now you are already attached. Fine.

“Fine, you’re right. I’m an idiot, I’m a idiot. So, you’re right, you happy?” You ask, you’re so upset.

“Yeah”. He says, he sounds cocky and you hate it.

“Get out.” You’re done, he crossed the line and now you're pissed off. You go to get all of the child stuff. You shove everything in a bag. You’re angry and when you’re done you throw the bag at the Mandalorian feet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t me-”

“I don’t care, get out. Now.” You say and you watch as the Mandalorian grabs the bag and walks out the front door. He turns around like he’s about to say something but you shut the door.

.・。.・゜��・.・✫・゜・。.

You ignore him. You can possibly seem to understand why he keeps trying to talk to you. He’s made his point clear, and you’ve accepted it. He’s dropped off the kid to the school for a couple of hours but you know he’s close by. Every time he comes to pick the child up, he tries to talk and you ignore him.

Maybe you’re petty, it has been a whole week and you can’t stop thinking about it. You’re currently wrapping your hair, trying to complete the final step of your nightly routine but you’re distracted.

Every time you do think about the incident your mind wanders. First, you think about the times he tried to talk to you after the incident. Then you think about the time he asked you to watch his son and he held your hands, or the time he helped you down the steps of your home and held your hand.

Your mind wanders even more, you think about when he came to pick up the child. He sat down and spread his legs. You think about that a lot, late and night, and imagine his gloved hands on your body. You imagine sitting between his spread legs.

There’s a knock at the door, and your thoughts and routine are interrupted as you pause. You listen to make sure you heard that right. You finish wrapping your hair quick and you go to the front door.

You rush to the front door and look out the peephole. There is no one there, not even on the street below and you are now on edge. Maybe today is the day you get kidnapped and die and with that thought in mind, you open the door. You look out and no one is there but before you close the door something on the floor catches your eye.

Flowers.

Your favorite flowers to be more specific. Skeleton flowers in a dark green vase with a red ribbon attached to it. You take the flowers inside and set them on the small dining room table. There’s a note attached to the vase and you’re surprised that you're a little excited to open it. You open the note and all it reads is:

I’m sorry, forgive me.

-M

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part will be mando's pov lol

#roma’s works ❀#fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin #x fem!reader #x reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #star wars x reader #pedro pascal #pedrohub

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poedjarinwrites · 6 months ago

Text

.3, his favourite daughter

Star Girl, prologue Din Djarin x fem!OC

Masterlist

(gif not mine!)

TATOOINE, OUTER RIM

She feels his presence and she is glad that the ship has a rocky landing as it hides the way her legs weaken. Vader barely waits for the ramp to lower before he's stepping out, Bela is quick to follow after him.

'Where is he?'

'I have him secured inside, my Lord.'

'I will bring him in myself.'

Bela doesn't follow. She waits outside, her gaze set on the Third Sister who watches Vader until she can no longer see him.

'Why haven't you killed Kenobi?'

She smirks as she turns to face, 'You mean your father?'

She ignores the snide dig. She has no time for petty comments which are only said to try and get a rise out of her. 'If your anger for him runs so deep, so thick, why is he still alive?'

It dawns on her then.

The Third Sister has always been filled with rage. A deep longing for revenge. Only Bela only feels that when Vader is around. Not when they were on the base with Kenobi. But now, with his retreating figure it's even more prominent.

'You're not after Kenobi.'

'Are you going to stop me, Kenobi?'

Bela lifts her head. The Third sister's mouth twitches and she nods with a small satisfied hum. Then with the same dramatic flare she's gone down the corridor after him. ⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚

Before the Third Sister can successfully land a strike on her target, Darth Vader. A red saber meets her own, stopping it just before his neck.

'Kenobi.'

Bela lifts her foot and kicks her back a few paces, 'General Bela to you, Sister.'

She ignites the other side of her saber and burns her side causing her to yell out as she drops to a knee. Using the force she pushes her aside and moves forward towards Vader.

It takes no effort for him to over power her, taking the double sided saber from her possession and splitting it in half. She yells in frustration accepting his challenge and taking a half.

Bela stands, clipping hers to her belt as she watches them fight.

A powerful Sith Lord against an angry girl.

The Third Sister kneels before him as he wields both sides of the saber against her. He moves slowly, his steps in time with her breathing.

Bela can't help it when she flinches at the saber through the Third Sister's chest. She yells, one final scream of agony - no, a scream of anger and frustration- and then she falls to her side.

'Did you really believe I did not see it, youngling? You are of no further use.'

She steps aside as the Grand Inquisitor moves forward, a sly grin on his ugly pale face. 'Hello, Third Sister. Revenge does wonders for the will to live, don't you think? Your rage was useful. Now it is tiresome. We will leave you where we found you. In the gutter where you belong. Goodbye, Grand Inquisitor.'

Bela doesn't move, she remains in the corner, watching as she struggles to reach her saber.

With a flick of her wrist it's in Reva's hand. And then she's turning, leaving her behind once and for all.

Before she moves away she hears the flickering voice of the Imperial Senator Bail Organa. 'If he's found them, if he's heard of the children. I'll head to Tatooine. Owen - help the boy.' ⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

She watches as Vader's ship lowers to the planet below, the moment the bridge gets the confirmation that he's touched down she heads for a ship of her own.

'General?'

'I'll assist in the backup. Update me if he gets bested.'

'It's Lord Vader.'

She ignores his comment and heads for the ship, turning to her droid to follow after her. But she doesn't go for the planet, with a few simple cut of some wires her tracking system is down, and she's plotting a course for Tatooine in the star map.

You're going to get us killed.

She sighs leaning back in her pilot's chair as the droid nudges her foot, 'Happy beeps, buddy.'

I'll beep how I want. He replies, Especially in my last few moments.

She rolls her eyes, yet still finds herself resting a hand on his hard metal head. A comforting thing for herself more than for the droid.

I don't like sand. It ruins my motoring abilities.

'Stay on the ship then.'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Reva looks around, an angry yell as she can't find any of her targets. She lifts her arms yet stills unable to move.

Bela feels the panic within her. The fear. She thinks it's Vader holding her back, coming to finish the job.

Reva's eyes glance around and finally she catches sight of her as she steps into her view. 'Kenobi junior.' She hums, as if she's the one in control.

Bela keeps her head held high, a hand by her side to hide the shaking limb from Reva's view. She's not as strong as Vader with the Force, nor Reva. It's always been a struggle of hers, to wield the force as a physical matter. Her strong suit is to listen to the force when it talks, to use it to be able to understand other people. Not to bend it against its own will.

The Third Sister manages to break free and drops to her feet in exhaustion.

'Don't be good, Bela. You're not good.'

Bela shakes her head, 'I'm not. But you are, Reva.'

Reva yells and gets to her feet but she easily twirls away not needing to ignite her own saber. Once again the woman is on her knees, panting as she uses her saber as a staff. It digs into the sandy ground and she slips again while trying to regain balance.

'We were both children, Reva. Taken from our families, our homes. Forced to live the destruction.'

'Did Vader send you to do his dirty work? To finish me off?'

'No.' She pauses, wiggles her jaw and then with a single breath says, 'I killed him.'

'He's dead.'

'Yes.' She says, 'He was fighting Kenobi, distracted, held down by his old Master. Kenobi couldn't bring himself to do it. So I did it. I brought this very saber down on his chest.'

Reva stares for a few moments, then breaks out into a round of hysterical laughing. Her head is thrown back, eyes squinted at the sky as a mad sound escapes her chest. Bela steps back at it.

'Bested by a child?' She lifts her saber, and Bela realises she didn't fall for it, 'By you?'

Bela swallows her annoyance, then lets her eyes linger on Reva's saber. The red moves closer, and suddenly she's six years old again. In the middle of the jungle with an unknown man standing before her. A red saber in his hands and anger in his heart.

'You're a terrible liar.'

'Let the boy go.'

Reva laughs again, 'You don't even know who he is. Why are you here Bela? Not to kill me.'

Bela lifts her shoulders, 'A feeling?'

'A feeling?'

'The Force, it told me to stop you.'

Reva swings her saber at her but she jumps back, 'Now, it sent you to your death.'

With a flick of her wrist she pushes her back, but no matter how much stronger she is when it comes to bending the Force to her will she's still injured.

Bela ignites her saber and swipes at her leg causing her to fall to a knee. Reva yells in frustration and throws her back against the wall opposite them.

With a groan her saber is lost, rolling a few feet away and Reva is then standing before her. Her saber is gripped tightly as she looks down at the girl.

She raises it in the air but when she meets her eyes all she sees is her younger self staring back at her. Terrified as Anakin Skywalker's figure reflects in the youngling's eyes. 'Choose your own path, Reva.'

Bela moves, she stands but lifts her hands at her sides, an opportunity for her to be killed. It's a cowardly move, she believes Reva will kill her. It's her way out. Of the Empire of the life she's trapped herself within.

She steps closer, the step is a wish. A wish Reva will take the darker path, that she'll continue down her road of suffering just to end Bela's. It's selfish, and manipulative, traits given to her by Vader himself. Or maybe they were always within her. They've always said Mandalorians and Jedi don't mix. Maybe this is why.

Together they create selfish, manipulative, hate filled younglings who'll only destroy the galaxy.

Reva shakes her head and turns away, not without her saber grazing Bela's side. She hisses, leans into the heat and then stumbles a step when the saber is put away. Clipped onto her belt and hidden by a dark cloak.

'The boy went towards the dunes.' Reva tells her, then she's climbing out of the small home in the middle of the Tatooine desert.

Bela falls back, leaning on a pile of wooden crates. She's going to give up, to leave, go back to Vader, act as if it didn't happen.

She has no other choice. She was built to serve the Empire.

Save him.

It's a voice in the back of her head. One that appears in her most vulnerable moments.

The Force.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

She sees them in the distance. Three figures filled with worry and anxiety.

Owen spots her first. He races to her and cups the boy's face then takes him from her arms. When the boy's gone her arms feel empty.

Obi-Wan is in front of her then. He mirrors Owen's actions, cups her face to look at her better. 'Saviin.'

Beru moves forward to places a hand on her shoulder, 'Thank you.'

'See?' Obi-Wan turns her with a hand on her back to watch as Beru runs after Own, both of them holding Luke. 'You are good, Saviin.'

He faces her again, 'Come with me,' She can feel his desperation leaking through his palms like sweat. 'We could be father and daughter.'

'Vader is my father.'

His hand falls from her back, she readjusts the position of her shoulders to make herself taller, 'No he's not. He doesn't have to be. Come with me. Leave the Empire, we'll be safe here.'

She glances back at Luke and his small family. It warms her heart, she doesn't like it. She can't ruin this family. She can't have her Obi-Wan killed. She needs to get away, to get on a clean ship and to a planet with no connections.

She can't get him killed.

She shakes her head at him, then finally meets his eyes. They're those same scared ones from before. 'My father is the worst man in the galaxy. And I am his favourite daughter.'

#star girl din djarin #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #din djarin x fem oc #star wars oc

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gingersnappe-9 · 1 year ago

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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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handspunyarns · 8 months ago

Text

You Were Marked: Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III.

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

word count: 13K

chapter summary: Din and Marathel repair the Razor Crest, Marathel takes her first sonic shower with interesting results, Din tries to change Marathel’s mind, the Razor Crest gets unexpected visitors.

warnings:  angst, heartbreak, female masturbation, voyeurism, mention of blood, menstruation, chldbirth, mental illness and infertility, 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 was in a deep sleep, curled up with Grogu on Din’s bedroll, when there was suddenly a loud ka-thunk, and everything quickly shifted sideways as she rolled into a hard surface. She opened her eyes to near-darkness, except for glowing tiny lights of red and green. Disoriented, she felt around her, and her hand fell upon little Grogu, who grabbed her hand tightly. “What the …” she muttered, and then she heard running footsteps and a loud pounding on the door.

“Wake up, Marathel! We got problems!”

“Wh … What?”

“We just fell out of hyperspace! Come out here!”

Marathel shook herself awake and reached up to press the door button. The door slid up, and she pulled herself out to see Din crouching by a panel halfway down the corridor. “What’s happened?”

“Get down here, I need your help.” Din had been awake for a while, and he had replaced his armor and was in the process of putting his weapons on when one of the power banks had failed. Marathel came down to where he was. “Grab that corner, there.” Marathel took hold of the panel where Din was pointing as he finished unlatching it. She wasn’t prepared for its weight, and her corner hit the metal floor with a clonk, but she wrapped her fingers around the panel edge and helped him slide it down the wall.

That task done, Marathel stood behind him as Din knelt to tap tiny screens above each component in the rack. “Haar’chak, the whole thing’s down.”

“Are we in danger?”

“We will be, if I can’t get this up and running again!” Din stood and began taking off his blasters.

“What should I do?”

“Just … stand right there for right now, and don’t touch anything!” he snapped as he pulled off his pauldrons and cuirass. “Hate this damned thing,” muttered Din as he sat on the floor and began squeezing himself into the small access crawl space to get behind the power bank. Marathel stood silent, unmoving. Din continued to curse and mutter as he folded himself into a working position. “Ah … fuck me, the whole damn thing is wired wrong!”

“Fuh!” shouted Grogu.

“Grogu, I told you to cut that out.”

Marathel was confused. “Didn’t Peli just repair this ship? Why would she wire it wrong?”

Din sighed. “Well, she didn’t wire it wrong, she wired it correctly, and that’s the problem.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Din chuckled. “I guess not. A while ago I had to jerry-rig this wiring and the ship flies better with the adaptation. The wires are hooked up to the wrong cart components, and it finally tripped itself. I have to pull all these wires first, then you’re going to pull the carts as I rewire it, okay?”

“Okay,” said Marathel, not sounding okay about it at all.

“Just sit down there in front of the panel, I’ll let you know when I need you.”

Marathel sat, listening to Din grunt and quietly curse to himself as he did whatever he was doing. “Did you get any rest?” she asked.

“Don’t talk to me right now,” said Din. “I’m trying to not electrocute myself.” Marathel sat silently. Grogu toddled over to join her, and she held him on her lap as they waited for instructions. “And yes, I got some rest. Are you all right?”

Marathel shifted slightly, then swallowed. “Yes.”

Behind the power panel, Din coughed to cover up his discomfort, then said, “Okay, we’re going to work from your left to your right. Grab the handles of the first cart and pull it out halfway.”

Marathel grasped the handles and gave the thing a tug, but it didn’t move. “What’s halfway on this thing?” She pulled again, much harder, and the whole thing pulled out of the wall and landed on the floor.

Din sighed. “Half of what you just did.”

“Did I just kill us all?”

“Not yet. Just put it back in, halfway, and wait for me to get the right wire connected.” Marathel did as he instructed and waited. After a short while, Din said, “Okay, slide the cart back in fully.” Marathel carefully pushed the cart back in, giving it a hard shove to seat it correctly. “Did lights come on?”

“Yes.”

“What does the screen say?”

“Screen?”

“There’s a small screen in the middle of the cart. What does it say on the screen?” Marathel was silent. “Marathel, just read what’s on the screen!”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t see the screen?”

“I can’t read, Din, I told you that!”

There was a long silence. Din groaned quietly. “She can’t read.” Din chuckled, and Marathel heard his helmet clank against something. “Yes, you told me, I forgot. Okay, change of plans.” Din shifted around and began pulling himself out from behind the power bank. “You need to do the rewiring, then.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Each wire goes between two metal plates that you use this screwdriver to tighten.” He handed her a small tool with a flat end. “Go on, get back there.”

“What makes you think I’ll fit? You had a hard time squeezing in there!”

“You’ll fit just fine. Now get going before we lose backup power.”

Marathel glared at Din, but she put the screwdriver in her pocket and fed her feet into the small access opening, as she’d seen Din do, and began pushing herself through. “I have no idea what you need me to do back there.”

“You’ll figure it out by the time you’re done. You only have … um …” Din counted on his fingers as he said, “‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls But Violet Gives Willingly, Got Some’ … twelve. Twelve wires.”

“Bad Boys do what?”

“‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls But Violet Gives Willingly, Got Some.’ It’s how I remember the wiring colors. Black, blue, red, orange, green, green, blue, violet, grey, white, gold, silver.”

“You said green and blue twice.”

“They’re different wires. You’ll see.” Marathel grunted in disgust, and Din swore he heard her mutter osi’kovid under her breath as she struggled to get back behind the panel. “What did you just say?” asked Din.

“I called you an osi’kovid!”

Din chuckled to himself. “Do you even know what that means?”

“I know it’s nothing good.” Marathel looked at the tangle of wires before her, then at the bank of metal plates. She looked carefully at the connection of the black wire that Din had completed. “So blue is next? Which blue?”

“It’s solid blue, not the striped one. You have to put the end of the wire where the coating is stripped off, put that end between the two plates, and tighten the screws to lock it down.”

“I’ll do my best.” Marathel found the solid blue wire and pulled it loose from the tangle. The bare end touched another wire’s bare end, and Marathel felt a zzzt sensation that was painful. “Aigh!”

“Don’t let the ends touch,” said Din.

“Now you fucking tell me!” snapped Marathel.

“Fuh-EE!” shouted Grogu, and Din shushed him.

Oh, good, the ‘child repeating swear words’ days are upon you, Bounty Hunter, have fun with that, wryly thought Marathel. She carefully placed the wire end between the plates and placed the flat end of the … screwdriver, that’s what he called it … into the slot of the screw head and turned it, but the tiny screw fell to the floor with a ting. “Oh no …”

“You must have turned the screwdriver the wrong way. It’s lefty loosey, righty tighty.”

“What?”

“Turn the screwdriver left to loosen the screw, and right to tighten it.”

“I can’t find the little screw. It fell out.” Tears filled her eyes, and Marathel sobbed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Bounty Hunter …”

“Marathel …”

“I’m going to kill us all …”

“Mesh’la, honey …” — honey? Where did that come from? — “It’s going to be fine. You can do this. The screw is on the floor right in front of you, I guarantee it. Just take a breath and look for it again.” He heard Marathel sniffle, then take a shaky breath. He pulled the cart halfway out and waited. After a few moments, he heard her whisper righty tighty. “Tighten the top screw a little, then the bottom screw a little. Go back and forth to tighten then evenly. Make the connection good and tight.” He waited a few moments. “Got it?”

“I think so.”

“All right, then,” said Din as he slid the cart back into its socket. Moment of truth, he thought, and the readout screen flashed its green message: Override Ready. “You did it, mesh’la, good job.”

“Next one is red, yes?”

“Yes,” replied Din as he slid out the next cart.

“Red for rape,” said Marathel as she carefully found the red wire and inserted it into place. “‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls,’” she scoffed. “I think you need a different way to remember this.”

“Come up with one, and I will.”

“Oh, I will.” Din heard Marathel grunt softly as she concentrated on her task. “There. Done.”

Surprised, Din said, “That was fast.” He slid the cart home and override ready flashed. “Green next. Light green.”

“Light green …” repeated Marathel as she untangled the wires, and she shocked herself again. “Aigh!”

“You need to be more careful,” said Din.

“You’re the one that left me this tangled mess, you … cigpell pudyn!” snapped Marathel, attaching the light green wire.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means meatball dick!”

Din burst out laughing. “Meatball … meatball?” He was laughing so hard he snorted. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

Marathel grumbled as she tightened the tiny screws. “Light green is done!”

Still laughing, Din reset the cart and got an error message. “No good, try resetting the wire.”

“The wire is fine,” said Marathel, gently tugging the wire.

“Not from where I’m sitting. Try it again.” Din listened to Marathel mutter under her breath as she loosened the wire. “You may need more wire lead. Peel back some of the green covering and reset it.” Marathel did as Din instructed, but he still got the error message. “I don’t know what, Marathel, but you’re doing something wrong.”

Of course, it’s my fault. “Are you sure it’s not supposed to be the dark green wire first?”

“Positive.”

Marathel sighed. “Can we try the dark green wire, at least?”

Din sighed as well. “Fine. Go ahead.” He pulled out the cart again. “And you, of all people, know that my pudyn looks nothing like a meatball.”

“It might after I throw a big enough rock at it,” said Marathel archly. “Okay, try it now.” Din replaced the cart. “Well?” Din was silent. “Was I right?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Okay, then. Now it’s the light green wire, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And who is a cigpell pudyn?” asked Marathel with as much snark as she could muster. “Well?”

“… I am.”

Marathel chortled. “Good boy.” She continued down the row, replacing the wires in order as Din replaced the carts. When they got to Violet and the purple wire, Marathel asked, “So, who’s this Violet who Gives Willingly?”

“No one. It just works in the phrase.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Can’t help that,” said Din. There was no way in Frith he was going to tell her that while her name wasn’t Violet, a particular prostitute he had been fond of at one time had a magnificent head of purple hair that set off her deep, dark green skin. Damn, she was fine, thought Din, wondering where she was these days.

Marathel rolled her eyes, but she carried on with her task. Din had been right, Marathel got very proficient with the screwdriver by the time she was tightening up the gold and silver wires, and she felt quite proud of herself. Well, Marathel, old girl, not half bad.

Din, on the other side of the power bank, felt pride on her behalf as well — Marathel wasn’t lacking in intelligence; she could follow instructions and tackle new tasks, was willing to get her hands dirty — and he was sure that the nimbleness in her hands and fingers would make her a great assistant mechanic. What a team we’d make, thought Din, and his heart warmed with the possibility. “All right, Marathel, good job. Now I’m going to fire this thing up.”

“You are? Am I safe back here?”

“More or less. Just don’t touch anything.” Before Marathel could protest, Din flipped the switches, the power bank turned on, and the engines came to life with a dull roar. “Dank ferrik, yes!” crowed Din. “Okay, you can come out now! Don’t forget the screwdriver!” Marathel rolled her eyes as she put the screwdriver that she came in with — as well as two more she found under the tangle of wires — into her pocket, and she began to wriggle out from the tiny crawl space. Din reached in to help pull her out, and he gave a strong tug on her just as she pushed hard on a girder with her feet, and Marathel tumbled into his lap as he fell backwards.

She looked up at him in surprise as she lay on his legs, her face at level with his belt buckle. Din continued to hold her hands as he gazed at her, mostly reclining on his elbow, thinking how damn cute she looked with engine smut on her face and hands, her hair and clothes disheveled. Marathel’s face colored that becoming shade of pink that he liked so much as she pulled her hands free and rolled off his legs to sit on the floor. Din sat up too, and gently put his hand on her back. “You did good, Marathel. I’m proud of you. I would have hated to do that job by myself.”

Marathel handed Din all three screwdrivers. “How would you have done that?”

“Ugh. I would have had to crawl out each time, after connecting each wire. Terrible.” Din grunted as he stood up and reached down to help Marathel stand. “You got a little dirt on your face,” he said, touching her cheek with a gloved finger.

Marathel shied away, saying, “I’m sure I did. It’s filthy back there.”

“Engines generally are.”

Marathel hummed vaguely as she moved to the basin at the far end of the ship. Din watched as she found the soap and a towel and poured out a tiny bit of water from her canteen into her hands. “Marathel, what are you doing?” asked Din, confused.

Marathel dropped the towel on the floor as she stepped back from the basin, dropping her head, sliding her hands into her sleeves. “Washing my hands,” she whispered.

“You’ve been using your drinking water to wash your hands?”

“I thought that was all the water I was allowed,” said Marathel, pointing briefly at the canteen.

“That’s for drinking. You may drink as much water as you wish. You haven’t been drinking your water?” Din came over and lifted the canteen; it was still nearly full. “Is this the same water I originally gave you? It’s easy to get dehydrated on long hyperspace hauls. You should be drinking more, Marathel,” Din said sharply.

“I didn’t know …”

“Drinking water is there for the taking, just like the food, Marathel! You don’t have to hoard or conserve drinking water! There’s a basin in the fresher to wash in that’s hooked up to the water recycler …” Din watched Marathel continue to cringe into herself. “… which I never showed you.” Din sighed. “I didn’t show you the fresher, or where the cleaning papers for the vac tube are, or where I keep the spare blankets, for kriff’s sake.” He noticed her shoulders shaking, and he realized she was crying. “Oh, mesh’la, please don’t cry …” Din went to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry I’m so stupid,” whimpered Marathel, keeping her arms tightly against herself, refusing to hug him back, despite how much she ached to do so.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m the stupid one who’s been rude and insufferable to you. Everyone I’ve ever known automatically knows where to find everything on a ship like this, and it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t, although, why would you know? The only time you’ve been on this ship for any length of time, you were injured. Unconscious.” Din sighed and rocked her back and forth as he quietly said, “I’m sorry I’m such an osi’kovid.”

Marathel sniffled, then asked, “What does that mean?”

“Shithead.” Marathel chuckled, and Din continued, “And I’ve also been a … what is it? A tymffod. What does that mean, mesh’la?”

“Asshole.”

“Yeah, I’ll take that. And a cigpell pudyn, if that helps. And a knob, too, I heard that one from you, earlier.” Din held her tight and stroked her hair, glad to know that he could again safely hold her like this without acting like a sex-starved maniac. “Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, I wish … I wish you’d just … stay right here, or anywhere else, other than ...” Din’s voice trailed off.

Marathel swallowed, then pushed Din back, wiping her cheeks, and looked down to her feet. “I appear to have grown a Grogu again.”

Din looked down too, still surprised by the shoes on her feet, seeing Grogu holding tightly to Marathel’s ankle. He sighed. Apparently, the moment of closeness with Marathel was over. “Come here, kid,” said Din, bending down to pick up the boy. “Did you take good care of Mahr last sleep cycle?”

“Mama,” said Grogu.

“Mama,” repeated Din.

“We slept well until everything went sideways,” said Marathel.

“We’re back up and running now,” said Din. “Let’s get this panel back on.”

“Okay. Oh — before we do that …” Marathel dropped down her knees by the access hatch, reached in, and pulled out a square of black insulation foam. “I found this just lying in there. May I use it?”

“Of course,” said Din, assuming she’d use it to sit on while she knitted. That was why it was in the access tunnel in the first place, to sit or kneel on while he had to tinker around in there. Together they got the panel back in place, then Din said they needed to strap in to get back into hyperspace. Marathel climbed the ladder first, giving Din another view of her ample backside as she went up, making him wish that they were in a romantic relationship, on good terms, just so he could playfully smack her on that lovely ass. This thought left him with a wistful feeling as he followed her into the cockpit with Grogu. Marathel was seated and struggling with the straps, so he knelt before her, placing Grogu in her lap, carefully untwisting the restraining belts and snapping them closed, letting his hands slide off her thighs as she stared at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered, not frightened of him, but of the thrill his touch sent through her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, even though he wasn’t. He stood and went to his seat to recalculate the jump to hyperspace, wondering in the back of his mind if she needed to lock herself in his quarters again, as he felt like he was already at half-staff. He looked back at her. “Ready?”

“Ready,” said Marathel with an uncertain smile.

Din turned back to the console and pulled the throttle, sending them shooting forward in space. Marathel felt her stomach change places with her liver and wondered if she’d ever get used to this hyperspace thing. Once they were settled in their path, Din undid his safety straps and stood, saying, “Much better. Thank you for helping out. Okay, let’s go back down.” He released the catches on her restraints, letting his hands linger briefly on her hips before descending the ladder.

Marathel followed with Grogu. “I hate this ladder already.”

“Believe me, I avoid leaving the cockpit as much as possible,” said Din, and Marathel chuckled to herself as she thought, I guess he does piss for distance. Din pressed a pad on the wall next to the power bank panel, and a door slid open, revealing another tiny room. Din stepped inside. “The fresher. Here is where you can switch from sonic to the water option.”

“Sonic?” Marathel also stepped inside the fresher and had to stand close to Din for both of them to fit.

“Sonic means the fresher uses sound waves to remove dirt and oils from your skin. The water is recycled, but it doesn’t get very hot, and it’s not hot for long.”

Marathel looked dubious. “Which would you prefer I use?”

“It’s up to you. I generally use the sonic setting, and then wash my face with warm water in the basin. It can get gross in the helmet from time to time,” said Din with a shrug.

“Well, I guess I’ll follow your example.”

Din nodded and opened the storage bin. “Here is facial soap,” he said, handing her a tube. “Did you want to wash your hair, though? The sonic does okay for my hair, but I keep my hair short … as you saw,” he added quietly.

Marathel pulled a handful of her hair over her shoulder and looked at it. “I’ll see what the sonic does for me.”

Din found her a clean washcloth and a small towel. “Okay, so it’s set on sonic, and you just have to press this button here to start. Then you stand over the drain, there, and the cycle will run for a few minutes. It’s on a timer, so if you’re not clean to your satisfaction, you can just press the start button again. The button below that opens and closes the door.” Din stepped back to the doorway. “There’s no lock, but I’ll take Grogu with me back to the cockpit and close that door. You’ll have complete privacy down here. Did you need anything else?”

Marathel shook her head. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Din took Grogu back, catching some of her hair as he did. He untangled her hair from his glove and smoothed it over her shoulder before he stepped out of the fresher.

“Oh, by the way …” said Marathel, and Din turned back to her. “‘Beautiful Blossoms Rise Over Green Grass, Blooming Vines Grow With Good Sunshine.’”

Din tilted his helmet. “Do what?”

“‘Beautiful Blossoms Rise Over Green Grass, Blooming Vines Grow With Good Sunshine,’” repeated Marathel. “To remember your wiring by.”

Din smiled widely under his helmet. “I like that much better. Just knock if you need anything.” Marathel nodded, and Din and Grogu returned to the cockpit.

Marathel heard the cockpit door close, and she poked her head out of the fresher to look. Not seeing either Bounty Hunter or a little boy, she found her bag and brought it to just outside the fresher. She pulled off her top and pants and folded them into a neat pile, then went to quickly use the vac tube, tossing her used pad into the tube before toggling the contraption. Thank Frith, it seems I’m finally bleeding less. Returning to the fresher, Marathel carefully removed the dilator from her and placed it in the basin so she could wash it after her shower. Or would it be called a sonic? she wondered. Marathel pressed the button to close the fresher door, then she pressed the button to start.

Right away, she heard a low vibration and felt it in her bare feet. Marathel stepped over to the drain as Din had directed. She felt the vibrations growing more powerful, and she could see the dirt leaving her hands, almost as a swath of sand would blow off a flat rock. She marveled at this, and she felt the vibrations as a massage that trembled through her entire body. The vibrations became stronger and faster, and they seemed to center low in her belly. After a short time, the vibrations grew even more powerful, and the sensation became warm and pleasurable as Marathel gasped, realizing she was becoming aroused.

Oh, no, she thought to herself. No, I don’t want this! But her body betrayed her as the vibration of the sonic shower continued to titillate instead of soothe. Marathel reached down and pressed her hand against her pubis, seeking a release from her stimulation. When that didn’t work, she flattened her front against the cool metal wall of the fresher, which only worked for a few moments as her feverish heat warmed the wall. Her breasts began to ache, so she pressed them harder into the unyielding metal as she reached between her thighs, gently sliding her fingertips over her clitoris. She gasped again, this time with a throaty groan, and she clapped her free hand over her mouth. Oh, Frith, what can he hear in that cockpit?

Din had, in fact, heard her groan; the auditory capabilities of his helmet were quite powerful. The fresher was also situated almost directly below the cockpit, and sound carried through the floor. Over the years, he’d become accustomed to the fresher being the official wank closet and the noises that would emanate from within the times he’d be traveling with someone. On several memorable occasions, he’d traded visits to the sonic shower for a bit of companionship from female bounties (and a couple of male ones, too, he wasn’t too particular if someone wanted to make it worth his while). But he’d heard — through that unreliable horny mercenary grapevine — that sonic showers could provide some females with sexual stimulation. And this was the first time a woman was in there where he’d heard her possibly masturbating.

Din looked back at Grogu, who was quietly occupying himself with the gear knob and a ball of Marathel’s yarn, using the Force to make them fly in complicated patterns. Din looked back out the view screen, pulled his flight notebook onto his lap, and turned up the receiver in his helmet. Concentrating his hearing on the room below, he listened to what he believed was Marathel touching herself, wondering if it was only the sonic waves bringing her off, or if she were as frustrated as he was, being so close together, denying the feelings she had for him.

And oh, Marathel was frustrated, and confused as well; why was she having these desires, when they should be the last thing on her mind?! But she kept pressing her breasts against the wall as her hand stroked herself, softly, gently, not even attempting penetration, for she was still so fragile and wounded there; she did not think she would be able to bear that, not only physically, but mentally as well. As her fingers continued their playful touches on her bud, she began to rock her hips, gasping in tiny, quiet moans. She kept rocking, the motion setting off delicious twitches inside her as she flexed her muscles in her hips, belly, and buttocks, and her fingers strummed her swollen clitoris. Oh, you taught me, Din, you taught me well, how wonderful this feels! I wish it were you touching me like this; if you were, I would pleasure you in any way you wished, I would make you bread for eternity, I would trap myself in the smallest flying metal box for you. Her twitching hips moved more frantically as she began to crest into her orgasm. She slid her free hand up her body and began gently tweaking her nipple, making her gasp again. She squeezed her thighs and tried to flex her pelvic floor — a hitherto unknown part of herself, brought to her attention by Eliadu — as hard as she could. Her other hand alternated tapping and stroking her clit until she finally tipped over the edge and climaxed; her mouth worked noiselessly, and her eyes closed, her knees bent, and her fingers pressed hard against her clitoris, feeling her pulse within, counting the beats of her rushing heart.

The sonic vibrations of the fresher slowed, and then stopped. Marathel finished riding out her orgasm with a last breathy gasp, and she sank to the floor, relishing its coolness against her flushed, warm skin. Breathing hard, Marathel rolled to her back, stretching out her limbs.

In the cockpit, Din felt like the most lecherous type of voyeur, eavesdropping on Marathel below. He’d just taken another look back at Grogu, and the kid was crashed on the seat of the aft chair, snoring softly. Under the guise of adding entries into his ship’s written log — he preferred writing them out in longhand —he listened to Marathel touching herself; Marathel, who was so recently brutalized at the hands of others, giving herself pleasure with her own hands. Her gasps were quiet and small, leading him to think that she was using the gentlest of touches, the softest of strokes of her fingertips against her delicate skin. The notebook on his lap concealed his erection, and he wished he could stroke himself to the sounds Marathel was making, but Grogu’s presence made that infeasible. Oh, Marathel, I wish I were in there with you, touching you myself, I would be so gentle, and touch you only where you allowed, with only the lightest, the most tender of caresses, I wish we could be alone, where I could give you such soft touches until you came for me, and you could scream my name as loud as you want to, mesh’la! He wanted her to be a screamer for him, a blanket-stealing, bread-baking, soft, plush, magnificent screamer of a lover, he was certain that she was coming in the room below him, coming hard like she had every time with him, and he was close to coming himself when he heard her moaning, but in pain.

In the fresher, Marathel’s breathing slowed and she began to feel chilled in the small room. She had carefully sat up when she felt a cramp rip through her lower belly, and she moaned as quietly as she could. Oh, no, not now, not my cycle, why am I not done with that, as old as I have learned that I am? She fell back to her side, waiting for the next wave of cramps that would inevitably come, pain that would fold her in half, unable to move.

But that sort of pain didn’t come. There was pain within her, but not in the muscles of her abdomen. The pain seemed lower, deeper inside. Marathel looked down at herself, expecting blood, and there was blood, but not the amount she was accustomed to with her cycles. She felt her muscles quake again, and she moaned, and then she felt the need to push, that there was something within her vagina that she needed to expel.

What in Frith was happening to her?

Fennec had told her she wasn’t pregnant, Eliadu had told her that she couldn’t get pregnant, yet, here she was, trembling and moaning on the floor, feeling as if she was about to give birth to something, for the sensations she was feeling within was unlike but somehow strangely similar to all of her previous cycles, when she would pass clot after clot …

There was a knocking on the fresher door. “Marathel?” Din was worried, almost panicked, all of his licentious thoughts gone. “Are you all right?”

Marathel gasped, and her head whipped around towards the door. “I’m fine, I’m … fine …” Her abdominal muscles contracted again, making her voice waver on the last word.

“You’re in pain, I heard you moaning …”

“You were listening?!”

“No! No … Just now, I heard you …”

“How could you LISTEN like that?!” The need to push became overwhelming, and she groaned as she felt blood running down her thighs.

“Marathel! I��m coming in!”

“NO! Don’t you DARE come in!”

“Let me HELP you!” cried Din.

“I don’t NEED your help!” Marathel shouted back. “I … don’t need … ANYONE …” She rolled to a deep squat on her feet and hands, grit her teeth, and bore down on whatever it was her body was trying to release. She reached down between her legs, and could just feel something gelatinous inside her, so she took another deep breath and pushed again. This time she felt a mass exit her vagina, and she went to her knees, trying to catch her breath. And here I thought I’d never give birth, but I think I just did, thought Marathel.

Din knocked on the door again. “Marathel? Mesh’la? Please, talk to me! What is happening?”

“I’m okay … I’m all right,” weakly said Marathel. She reached behind her, finding the mass she’d just expelled with her fingertips. What in Frith? She moved herself to a position where she could see whatever it was, a dark red-brown clot, about the size of a gorugelly, that contained clumps of what appeared to be crusted flesh. Marathel realized what had occurred: she had passed a clot of scabs made by the cauterizing of the worst of the wounds made by the Dilimgau. Ceiroprac had told me I might shed those, though Marathel. I didn’t think I’d be so damn dramatic about it though! How typical of me, thought Marathel. She laughed weakly at first, and then louder as she realized how absurd her life was.

Outside the fresher door, Din was bewildered by the sudden sound of laughter on the other side. “Marathel? If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m coming in there.”

“Oh … calm down, Din, for the love of Frith! I’ll be fine. The sonic waves shook loose some … internal scabbing, and I wasn’t expecting that.”

Internal … oh, he thought, remembering that Marathel had refused reconstruction where she had been so badly damaged by the Dilimgau, but had wounds cauterized instead. “I’m sorry, ner kar’ta. Are you still in pain? Are you bleeding badly?”

“I … some. But I’ll be all right.”

“What can I do for you?” Din pleaded.

Marathel squinted up at the switch he had told her toggled the fresher between sonic and water. “Would it be all right if I turned on the water?”

“That … the water won’t be very warm.”

“I don’t mind cold water. But there’s blood, and … clots. Can that go down the drain in here?”

Din sighed. “Not a large amount of blood, and I’d rather any solids didn’t.” It was a decent recycling system, but not that good.

“Then please bring me rags and a bucket, or something, so I can clean this up.”

“Damn it, Marathel, let me do that for you!” He found a large towel. Going back to the fresher door, he turned his head away and closed his eyes. “I’m going to open the door now. My eyes are averted.” Before Marathel could protest, he opened the fresher door and stepped backwards into the doorway, holding out the towel behind him. “Here; wrap yourself in this.” He felt the towel being snatched from his hand. “Let me know when I can turn around.”

Marathel wrapped the towel around her, covering as much as she could. Leaning into the far corner, she quietly said, “Okay.”

Din turned around, his eyes seeking out Marathel. Her back was to him as she faced the corner of the fresher, the towel only covering her from mid-thigh to mid back, unable to wrap around her fully, and she had pulled her hair over her shoulder to cover her front. I should have brought her blanket, thought Din; he had again forgotten that she was a little more full-figured, and needed more coverage than a standard cheap towel would provide, because all he could ever see was that her form was perfect.

There were drips of blood running down her inner calves. Din looked over to the drain, seeing a small puddle of blood along with the remains of a large viscous clot, as well as bloody prints of both her hands and bare feet on the floor. Din removed his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. He grabbed the washcloth and went to the basin to soak it, seeing the bloody dilator in the basin. He looked over at Marathel just as she looked over her shoulder, and she flushed pink again, turning her face back to the corner. Din’s eyes went down her back, still covered with welts, and he watched another drop of blood roll down her leg, dismayed at how much she still had to suffer just to heal. “Will you at least let me take you to a medical facility?”

“How would you explain my injuries?”

Din soaked the washcloth and knelt by the large clot, doing his best to not look at it too much as he scooped it into the other small cloth. “The same story as before … you’re a runaway sex slave.”

“What if they don’t believe you?”

“They don’t ask many questions on a bounty.”

“Then why didn’t you take me there instead of Tatooine?”

Din began mopping up the worst of the blood, deciding to tell the partial truth. “I wasn’t too capable of logic at the time, my head being bashed in and all.” I was too afraid to put you in the hands of strangers.

Marathel looked at him over her shoulder. “What’s that? On your wrist?”

The yarn bracelet. He’d forgotten. He carefully wrapped the stained towels together. “Nothing.”

Marathel frowned. From what she could see, it was some sort of … adornment made from green, yellow, and brown yarn, the same colors she and Grogu had used to tie on the poosticks. “I don’t remember you having that before.”

Din did not answer her; instead, he took the bloody cloths and disposed of them in the vac tube and came back to wash his hands, looking away from the dilator. He opened the storage bin and pulled out a bottle. “Here is shampoo if you’d like to use it.” Marathel watched as Din stashed another, smaller bottle in his pocket, wondering what that could be that he needed to hide it; it wasn’t like she read the damn label, after all. He turned a dial on the wall. “Now you’ll have water. The same switch will turn it on. I’ll leave another towel outside the door. Okay?”

“Thank you. I’ll be quick; I don’t want to waste your water.”

“Please, don’t … don’t worry about that. Take all the time you need. Or at least all the cold water you can stand.”

“Thank you, Din.”

Din gazed at her, still pressed into the corner, naked but for her long hair and a scanty towel.

She is so soft, so beautiful. So sad.

So broken.

“You’re welcome, Marathel.” He grabbed his gloves, left the fresher, closing the door behind him. She called me Din, he thought. I’m Din again.

Marathel remained crowded into the corner of the fresher for a while after Din left her alone, mind racing, bewildered again by the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter. Ashamed as she was that he’d heard her before, that he’d listened to her as she … but he had come running to her when he thought that she was hurt, just as he’d come running when she called for him when Grogu had put her in a tree. Just like how he’d taken her broken body away with him when he left Unmanarall. And what had she done for him? Fed him meals, baked him bread, given him some physical pleasure?

Broken his heart?

Tears threatened again, chipping away at her resolve, trying to make her forget why she was insisting on going back … and the reasons for doing so were growing less and less important.

Marathel tried to turn off her addled brain as she went over to the fresher controls and turned on the water. Stepping under the aerated spray, she expected cold water, but what she experienced instead was something even more frigid than her waterfall during the deepest part of cold season. Chilled almost instantly to the bone, Marathel shrieked, “GAIAH!!!!”

In the cockpit, Grogu had woken up, and was cuddled on Din’s lap when Marathel’s surprised scream reverberated through the ship. Oh kriff, thought Din as he hurriedly turned down the reception volume on his helmet. Then he chuckled and patted Grogu’s tummy, saying, “I think I forgot to tell Mama to let the water run for a minute before getting in.” Grogu frowned up at him, folding his ears down. “Yeah, she’s gonna throw a rock at my pudyn for sure.”

Later, Marathel was clean and dressed again. It took a while before she got warm, though, after nearly freezing herself in the fresher. The water did eventually get mildly warm, but nowhere near enough to offset how cold the water was initially. Osi’kovid, thought Marathel. And after I helped him fix this flying metal box!

Marathel dressed in her other set of blue clothes, the thick socks Cobb had given her, and then finally her blanket. She figured out the drinking water dispenser and helped herself to Din’s tiny galley storage, finding the container of tea. She made two cups of extra-hot tea, a cup of bone broth, and cut a loaf of Silnima’s sweet squash bread into thick slices. Carrying one cup of tea and the cup of broth, she went up to the cockpit access. “Din?”

She heard his feet drop heavily to the floor, and he was up and looking down at her in a flash. “Mesh’la?”

Marathel pursed her lips at the endearment, and said, “Here is broth for Grogu, and tea for you.” She placed the cups, each with a slice of sweet bread on top, at Din’s feet.

Din quickly dropped to one knee and was just able to touch her fingers briefly as she let go of the cups. “Thank you, Marathel.”

“When Grogu is finished, would you please send him with the cups back to me? I finished knitting something for him.”

“Of course.” Marathel nodded, then disappeared from view. Din stayed there, on one knee, long after she’d left, just listening to her moving around on his ship, humming the only song, digging through drawers in the galley, sipping her tea, vocalizing her Oldtalk to the melody of the only song now and again. Grogu came and snagged his sweet bread and his bone broth and sat next to Din, enjoying his snack and listening to his Mama while Din thought about doing a U-turn, taking her to his covert and presenting her to the Armorer as his choice for riddurr.

But then, Din sighed and reconsidered. Kidnapping a bride was Paz’s style, not his. And being an Apostate meant a riddurrok was out of the question until he could redeem himself. So, he sat down next to his boy and drank his tea and ate the bread, lifting his helmet only enough to do so.

Below, Marathel had settled herself on Din’s bedroll and was using the black insulation foam as a base to felt the wool roving Cobb had bought for her. Lacking a felting tool, she’d dug through all the drawers she had been able to open and found three pointy things that she tied together to make an ersatz stabber, as she called it. She drafted the wool into little bits of fluff, which she spread in layers on the foam, using the three-pronged improvised tool to stab it into the foam over and over and over. This part was very therapeutic, Marathel found. As the wool felted together, she added more wool, flipping the piece over, stabbing it again and again to make a cloth, intending to give the finished cloths to the Bounty Hunter to polish his armor.

Din had come down from the cockpit with Grogu; they’d found a few empty cups and a couple of bowls floating around the cockpit. Din had expected to see Marathel leaning against the main corridor wall, sitting on the foam square, knitting. Surprised to not see her immediately, he looked around before he noticed her sitting in his quarters. He tilted his helmet as he watched her repeatedly stab bits of wool — with great gusto — into the black foam. Her vehemence in her task frightened him a little, as she stabbed, stabbed, stabbed whatever it was she had in her hand. “What are you doing?”

“I’m felting wool into cloth.” Stab, stab, stab.

“Why?”

“For you, to polish your armor.” Stab, stab, stab.

“I can buy that sort of thing.”

“I’m sure you can. But I want to make these for you.” Her tone told him she would brook no quarter. Stab, stab, stab. Her eyes flicked up to his helmet. Stab, stab, stab.

Din wasn’t about to argue the point with her, not with that stabby tool thing she was wielding. He did like seeing her in his bed, though. “Do you have enough light in there?”

She looked up at the overhead lights. “It’s good enough for what I’m doing. The floor is too uncomfortable for me right now,” said Marathel, her cheeks turning pink again. She looked past Din’s legs and smiled. “Just who I wanted to see. Come here, my love.” Grogu toddled in and hugged Marathel’s legs. She picked up a folded knitted item and unfurled it, holding it up to his little body. “Hmmm. It might be a little big for him. But he’ll grow into it.” Marathel frowned and looked back up at Din. “Will he grow into it?”

Din shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I only recently found out he’s over fifty years old.”

“Fifty? Why, that would make him older than me, even!”

“I understand that his people are slow-growing folks that live for a very long time.”

“But that means …” Marathel’s face fell, and she caressed Grogu’s face. “He will be without you for much of his life.”

Din crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, looking down to the floor. “I suppose so.” It had occurred to him as well. He tried not to think about it much.

“How old are you?”

Din raised his eyes back to Marathel’s lovely face. “Well, going back and forth in hyperspace kind of muddies time, as opposed to staying on one planet. But I’m somewhere around forty-two Basic years old.”

“That makes me older than you,” said Marathel quietly. “I am glad to know that you are not so much younger than me.”

Din shrugged. “Not by much, no.” And I am glad to know that you aren’t half my age … that would have skeeved me out. I’m middle-aged. I don’t need to be with someone so young as that … not like the place you came from.

“Well, enough of that kind of talk. Let’s see how this fits you, my little Godynferth!” Marathel fed Grogu’s arms into the sleeves of the little jacket, and she tied the attached belt around his waist. “It’s a tiny bit long, but it looks good to me. Show your father, little one.”

With a pleased coo, Grogu turned to Din, holding out his little arms. Din squatted down to Grogu’s level. “Well, now, kid, I think you look like a proper Jedi. I like it, Marathel, thank you. He’s never complained about being cold, but a child should have cold weather gear.”

“What do you do for cold weather gear?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Marathel frowned. “Do you not get cold?”

“I get cold.”

This troubled Marathel. The thought I would knit you sweaters and cowls, weave you capes and blankets, anything I could make to keep you warm went unbidden through her head.

Din cleared his throat, and stood, taking a step back from the doorway. “I thought I should use the sonic myself. Would you mind …?”

Marathel blinked. “Oh! Of course. Just knock when I can come out.” She looked around her, realizing that Grogu had wandered off. She called out, “Come here, Grogu, let me take that jacket off you … then you get to stay in here with Mama.” She had not directly called herself that before. Not out loud. Oh, she thought to herself. I never knew how much joy my heart could hold, just saying Mama, referring to myself. Did Din feel the same way, when Grogu became his son in his heart?

And oh, when Din caught her eye after she had put the question to her mind, and Din knew as sure as anything that Marathel had just realized who she was.

Grogu’s Mama.

You’re Grogu’s Mama, Marathel. And you’re going to leave him, because you’re holding on to some insane guilt over things that were done to you and not by you. I can think of no other reason you would willingly return there. Yet, I can’t not take you back; I must obey you because … you are my Dahl-mate? That is equally insane, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, so insane we should go somewhere uncharted and be crazy together.

Din stepped back into his quarters and stood, looking down at Marathel. She looked back at him, puzzled, asking, “What is it?”

“We need to talk to each other,” said Din.

“We have talked.”

“No, we haven’t.” Din sat down at the other end of the bedroll, but still too close in the tiny room, where they’d already experienced so much intimacy when she was injured, unconscious, and naked, and he was gloveless, helmet-less, and out if his mind with concussion. “You’ve talked. You’ve talked at me. You’ve told me the nightmare of your life, the humiliation and degradation you’ve suffered. But then you tell me that I must return you to the source of your suffering, and that’s all there is to it.” Din sighed, unsure where to start. “May I hold your hand?”

Marathel looked down at Din’s hand, covered by his glove. She couldn’t think of a good reason not to hold his hand. It was a reasonable request, and he was a man; therefore, she must obey him. But his hand was encased by fabric and leather. Along with his forearm weapons, there was not a strip of bare skin exposed. She supposed that he could make the argument that her hand was encased in metal springs, and therefore, just as non-tactile as his own hand.

But what difference did the glove make, really? His hand was still within — a strong and gentle hand, powerful, but still capable of tender touch, loving hands that held Grogu as well as fondled her.

His hands, the gloves.

Marathel raised her eyes to Din’s chest, protected by heavy armor. She knew it was heavy; she’d felt the weight of it against her own body, and he carried both the armor and occasionally her. But behind the armor was him, she knew there was flesh, flesh that was warm and yielding, carrying scars and marks and moles, flesh over muscle that had seen battles that ended in death and hands of others caressing him, pleasuring him, for he was a man and such pleasures were necessary; even her own hands had felt that flesh in an effort to please him as well as fill her own needs.

His body, the armor.

Raising her eyes even more, Marathel studied his helmet, planes and angles that disguised his face; and even though she knew he had brown hair and brown eyes and a mustache and facial hair, she longed to see those features, to solidify in her broken mind who he was, his eyes upon hers, to hopefully read in those brown eyes that he could see her, cracked, crumbled, chipped away to rubble, and so, so sad that she desperately needed a tender touch and the knowledge that even as unworthy as she was, that he trusted her enough, that he loved her enough, to supersede his words of love and trust with the sight of his own lips saying such things, and the touch of his lips on her, words, words meant nothing, she was too stupid to understand words, words almost always led to lies …

“Marathel?” Marathel blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “I only asked you to hold my hand; it wasn’t some sort of trick question,” he implored.

Marathel dropped her eyes and went back to felting the wool, stabbing the fleece into the foam over and over. “What did you need to say?”

“I want you to explain to Grogu why you’re doing this.”

“Doing what? Felting wool?”

Din took a deep breath; he wanted to keep his temper. “Why you’re insisting I take you back.” Marathel stopped her stabbing motion. “Because you haven’t explained it to me at all, and I want to hear you explain it to him, so maybe I can possibly understand.”

Marathel set aside her project and primly folded her hands in her lap. “I’d be happy to speak to Grogu. Shall I do it now?”

Din was surprised, as he thought she would either belay an explanation or refuse to do it altogether. He looked over his shoulder and saw Grogu, still in his little knitted robe, sitting in the doorway, eating a hunk of bread. “Hey kid, Marathel would like to speak to you.”

Grogu got up and toddled over to Marathel, holding out his bread crust to her. Marathel smiled and took the proffered crust, bobbed her head, and murmured, “Thank you, my love,” and ate the bit of bread, while Din was both surprised and overwhelmed that Grogu shared food with her, as if sharing food was a commonplace thing for him, because it certainly wasn’t. “Come up here, little one,” she said, lifting him onto her legs so Grogu could sit on her. “You may not know this, but your father is taking me back to the planet I came from. Remember? You met me there, in my little hut, where we played poosticks, and picked flowers, and you and Patu went fishing?”

Grogu made an affirmative coo, and Marathel continued. “Well, we’re going back there, but what will happen is that I will stay there, and you and Patu will go on flying on your adventure, and I will not be with you.”

Grogu frowned, his ears drooping.

“Remember, when I said goodbye to you before? I thought you would be leaving me behind then. But I was so badly hurt, and your father did not want to leave me behind like that. I didn’t know your father took me away with you. And I am sorry that you had to see me so hurt, and that you had to help me breathe when I was so sick. I know you also helped my hands, and I thank you so much for that. You gave me back my hands, you clever boy!

“Unfortunately, I am still sick. I am very, very sick. But I’m not sick in my lungs, or in my hands. I’m sick here …” — Marathel indicated her head — “… and here …” — Marathel put her hand over her heart. “The sickness, the pain I have there is not an illness that can be healed by the tiny hands of a little green boy with large ears. It’s a sickness that I can’t ever recover from. It’s a hurt that can’t be fixed. And when there’s something that can’t be fixed, well, then, it must be left behind.

“I’m sure you’ve seen Patu leave things that can’t be fixed. Parts of this ship, a blaster, something. But this time, it’s me that must be left behind.” Grogu’s face fell, and he looked down to his little feet until Marathel put her finger under his chin and lifted his face up again. “Grogu, you need to know that I’m okay with that. That is what I want. I want to be left behind, so my sickness won’t affect you or your Patu.

“I know this is hard to understand. I know I can’t properly explain why this is so necessary to me. But I need you to remember that this was my decision. And if for no other reason than that, I need for that decision to be honored by you, honored by your Patu. I’ve had so little honor given to me, Grogu, and whether my decision is good, or bad, or indifferent, it was my decision to make.

“But I don’t want you to worry about me. I will be all right when you and Patu leave. I will be sad, of course. I will be very sad. And you will be sad, too, I know. You may be very sad. And it’s okay for you to be sad. But you have much to do. You must grow up, and live a wonderful life, and have many exciting adventures with your father. And I want you to enjoy the amazing life you’re going to have, flying here and there, meeting all kinds of people … probably making things blow up …” Marathel laughed. “Wherever you are, I will be thinking of you. When you look up at the night sky, and you see all those stars, and planets, that will be me keeping an eye on you! I’ve been so proud to be your Mama! And perhaps, someday, you may have a new Mama to go along with your Patu, or … even maybe another Patu, who knows?” Marathel looked up at Din, thinking of Cobb. She knew. She just did. “Someone will make your father so happy, and that’s what we all want, is for Patu and Grogu to be happy. Happy, and safe.

“And … I will be happy too, to know that you are happy, and safe. No matter how sick I am, no matter how much I hurt in my heart and in my mind, I will always be happy that I met you and your father. I will always be happy to think of the three of us having fun in that little hut, having little, tiny adventures amongst ourselves. Even if you believe you had far too many baths.

“I will miss you so much. You will be in my heart forever. Rwy’n di’rugar, my love,” said Marathel, her voice crackling, and she picked up Grogu and hugged him tightly, kissing his little face.

Drawing back, Marathel smiled at Grogu with tears in her eyes. “I think that went well, don’t you? Yes, I think that went well. I hope you understand a little better why this is happening, love, yes? Yes.”

Grogu patted her cheek, cooing sadly. Then he pointed back at Din. Marathel gazed into his dark visor and sighed. “Yes, I will miss Patu as well. He has been a good friend to me. My first friend, actually. Your father will also be in my heart forever. I know he’s having a very hard time leaving me behind. Someday, he may understand why he must leave me behind, but even if he doesn’t, I hope he knows that I will never regret a single moment I spent with him. Even when I threw eggs at him. Or called him names.”

“What about not telling me about the depth of the mud I had to slog through?” asked Din.

“Oh, that … I wanted to get back at you for laughing at me.”

Din chuckled briefly, and then reached over to gently ruffle Grogu’s hair, moving his hands closer to her. “Marathel, I don’t think you’re sick. I don’t think you’re so damaged that you can’t be fixed, or that you can’t be helped. Doctors and therapists are out there. I can find you someone if you would just let me.”

Marathel felt trapped by the armored man before her, and she wondered if that was his intention. She returned her attention to Grogu. “Grogu, do you understand what I am asking of you? Will you please honor my decision?”

“You can’t ask him that. He’s just a child.”

“Grogu is wiser than I will ever be.”

“All the more reason to not take you back, Marathel! I can’t, in good conscience, leave a woman having a nervous breakdown alone in the wilderness!”

“I’m not having a breakdown!” cried Marathel.

“Then you should!” shouted Din. He dropped his head. “I’m sorry, mesh’la, I’m sorry, ad’ika, I shouldn’t have yelled. I am upset, because … because I don’t have much time left to convince you to not leave me.” He reached for Grogu. “Kid, would you please give Mama and me some privacy? We need to … grown-up talk.” Grogu bleated and jumped off Marathel’s lap and toddled out of the tiny room, patting Din’s arm as he went, which both adults noticed with mild amusement, wondering just how much Grogu was able to understand the angst the grown-ups were creating for themselves.

Din and Marathel looked at each other. He took a breath, then reached to shut the door.

“Din …”

He moved his hand along the wall, and turned off the lights, and then a third switch shut off even the tiny red and green panel lights, leaving the tiny room in full darkness. Marathel gasped, and Din said, “Mesh’la, I need you to trust me … I must do this this way.” Focusing on the low-light image in his visor, he moved closer to her, reaching for her hands in the darkness, and she pushed herself against the wall behind her. “Please, Marathel, I …” She kept pulling her hands loose, whimpering, fearful. Din pulled off his gloves, and then, his helmet, saying, “Marathel.”

Marathel fell still at the sound of his voice, unmodulated, and she forgot to breathe. Din reached for her hand again, their fingertips touching before she drew her hand back. “Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, I don’t know what to do about you. I don’t understand why you won’t let me love you. I don’t understand why you insist on destroying yourself.” He sighed. “I don’t know how else to say that I don’t care who your biological parents are. I don’t know how else to tell you that those reprehensible things done to you don’t make you a whore. Those things only matter to me because of the pain they cause you.”

Din got up to his knees and moved even closer to Marathel, gently pushing down on her knees so that he could straddle her legs, resting part on his weight on her, pinning her in place again like he had against the kitchen wall of the palace, and he hated that he kept trapping her this way. He lifted her hands to his face, saying, “I can’t show you my face. This is the way. This is the only … allowable way for me to be without my helmet around you. And even then, this is still … difficult. Attachments outside the covert, attachments of any kind are not discouraged, but … neither are they encouraged.” He still held her trembling hands. “I’ve told you I love you, both in Basic and in my own language, remember? I said to you, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, when we were together that night. ‘I will know you forever,’ that’s what that really means, mesh’la, I will have you in my heart forever just as you will have Grogu in your heart forever. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner kar’ta, cyar’e. I love you, my heart, my beloved …” Din kissed her splinted fingers. “And you said something back. What did you say back to me?”

“Fi ng’riad, d’lwch fi, chi yd’w fi,” said Marathel, her voice unsteady.

“What does that mean?”

“‘Love me, hold me, I am yours.’”

“But it doesn’t really mean that, does it, mesh’la? I can’t possibly believe that there’s a word for love in the Hold. Not with what they do there to women, to children. I’m sure you say that at a very specific time; you have ceremonial words for every moment you women must endure, there’s a verse in that only song for every occasion, so when do you say that, Marathel, what does it really mean?”

“It means … ‘I am yours to take and ruin.’”

Din’s heart broke a little more. “And when are you supposed to say that?”

“When the girl presents herself to her Elder as a Whyn just before he takes her … fully.”

“And you said this … to me?”

Marathel sobbed and pulled her hands away. “I had no other words to give you. I knew you had said something very important to me, and I had to say something!”

“But what do you feel, Marathel?”

“I don’t know!”

Din sat back on his heels, sighing, sure she was lying. He rubbed his face with his hands. “Back on Unmanarall, when you asked me to remove my helmet … if I had, would you have changed your mind about going to the Hold?”

“No.”

“If …” Din’s voice broke, and he had to clear his throat. “If I revealed my face to you now, knowing that I love you, Marathel, my ma’mwsh ha’laa … would you stay with me? Would it make a difference?”

“… No.”

At that moment, Din would rather have been sliced in two by the Darksaber. Desperate now, he pleaded, “What if … then … not with me, then … Stay at the palace, on Nevarro, somewhere, anywhere, where I know I can reach you, see you, know you’re safe …” He found her face in the darkness and pressed his forehead to hers. “Somewhere Grogu can see you, please, ner kar’ta, my heart, please, please, don’t make that boy lose his Mama!”

“Din, please …” sobbed Marathel.

“Stay, yes, or no?”

“... No.”

Din wanted to weep. He reached behind him to find his gloves and his helmet. Standing, he put his helmet back on, and opened the door to the tiny room, revealing Grogu on the other side, looking sadly back up at him. “Gangway, Grogu,” he said, listlessly, and he climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, shutting the door behind him.

Marathel sobbed into her hands, hating herself for what she was doing. She felt Grogu’s tiny hand touch her knee. “Oh, Grogu, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for hurting Patu like that.” She held Grogu as she shifted them both to a prone position on their sides, facing each other. Marathel began stroking Grogu’s ear with her thumb. “Someday, he may forgive me, but if he never does, I will accept that. I’d rather he hate me forever.”

Grogu’s sad eyes bore into hers. “Patu Mama,” he said sternly.

“Patu … Mama?” asked Marathel, confused.

Grogu put his hands together, wrapping his tiny fingers around each other. “Patu … Mama.” Marathel blinked tears from her eyes, then nodded. Repeating the hand motions, Grogu asked, “Mama … Patu?”

Marathel’s eyes went wide, then shut tight for a few moments. Opening her eyes, she whispered, “Yes, my little child. Mama Patu.” Marathel smiled through her tears. “Mama loves Patu with all her heart.”

She couldn’t speak after that for a few moments. Finally, she was able to say, “Grogu, my sweet, it’s because I love your father so that I must be left behind. I’m damaged, and I’m no good. He deserves someone so much better than me. What I am, no matter where I go, will bring him only shame and misery. I’m the wrong woman, and what I’ve done will be found out; I know now how people will talk behind my back. I heard the whispering in the palace. Patu is well-respected everywhere he goes, he must be. I can’t be the reason he loses respect in his covert, his … well, wherever a Bounty Hunter may belong. And I don’t belong anywhere, anyplace that’s good.

“People don’t understand a person like me, they will judge me for what I’ve done, what was done to me, who I am. And they will judge your father for caring about me. And I refuse to bring that judgement upon Patu.”

Grogu grunted, shook his fists and said, “Patu Mama! Mama Patu!”

“Oh, Grogu, if only it could be so, I wish it could. But this is the way.”

Grogu frowned and put his hand on Marathel’s chin, and she immediately felt a little sleepy. “Grogu is putting me to sleep again, I think. Did you want me to tell you a bedtime story, little one?” Marathel yawned. “I will tell you my version of how I met your father.

“When I first saw him, the sunlight was reflecting off his armor almost straight into my eyes, and I thought he was one of the Mothers Who Went Before coming for me, coming to take me away and up into the night sky. And then I thought, no, I don’t want to go! So, I had to throw a rock to chase Patu away.

“I had wanted the Mothers Who Went Before to come take me away. I wished for it, prayed to Frith for it. But when I thought they had appeared, I begged to stay! And when I realized it was a person, a man I had never seen before, I was afraid, but somehow, I knew that he would not hurt me, that I was safe with him. I knew a stranger to me would be the first man to treat me well.” Marathel smiled at Grogu, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “And Patu brought me you. How could I not love him?” She felt sad yet happy that she revealed the truth to Grogu. But as she fell asleep — and whether it was Grogu putting her to sleep or the emotional exhaustion hitting her was immaterial — Marathel mumbled, “But there’s no point.”

Grogu got up from where he lay next to Marathel. He gently pressed his forehead to hers, like Patu would do. Just like Patu would do to him. Then Grogu sighed, and toddled out to the corridor, where he sat down with a tiny grunt, looking back and forth from the open quarters to the closed cockpit door.

Grogu was frustrated. Grogu had a hard time understanding why Patu and Mama could not just love Mama and Patu! Grogu wished Patu would kiss Mama again. Grogu had seen other people kiss before. Grogu knew kissing made other people happy. Grogu had been happy when Patu had been happy with Ohmeh. Grogu had been sad that Patu did not kiss Ohmeh. Grogu was happy Patu kissed Mama. Grogu changed Mahr to Mama because Patu kissed Mama. Grogu was happy Patu became happy again.

Grogu was sad that Mama was sad. Grogu could see that Mama was hurt in a lot of places. Grogu wondered why someone hurt Mama. Grogu was mad that someone hurt Mama. Grogu wanted to help Mama. Grogu had helped Patu and friends of Patu.

Grogu did not understand why Mama did not want help from Grogu. Grogu did not understand why Mama was so dark inside head of Mama. Grogu was sad Mama was so dark inside head of Mama.

Grogu could not fix Mama.

Grogu could not fix inside head of Mama.

Grogu was sad.

Grogu looked down at the floor and sighed. He thought for a while, and while he sat and thought, he began picking up his favorite colors of the glitter on the floor — gold, silver, and green — and made them float and swirl before his eyes. After a while, Grogu put the glitter down, and he called out to the Force, looking for friends that might make Mama less sad. And if Mama was less sad, then maybe Patu would be less sad, too.

It was a few hours later that Marathel heard Din calling her. Climbing up out of her troubled sleep, she said, “Mmmmm … what?”

“Marathel? Wake up.”

Not wanting another round of Din’s pressure, Marathel muttered, “Why?”

“You need to see this.” Marathel frowned at Din but let him help her up. She followed him stiffly up the ladder to the cockpit, where he beckoned her to stand at the console, where Grogu was sitting, looking up and out of the view screen. Din pointed above his head. “Look.”

Marathel stood where Din indicated, and looked up to see not just one Purrgil, but many. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

“I don’t know how many there are,” said Din. “I got up to twelve, and more kept coming. I can’t see them all to count them. They are all around the Crest.” A single Purrgil, much smaller than the one Marathel had seen while on the transport, moved closer, almost as if she was trying to peer into the cockpit. “A few have done that, too. I’ve never heard of a Purrgil doing that before.” The Purrgil bellowed, the vibration rumbling the floor of the cockpit, and they could see the closest of the Purrgils nodding their heads. Din turned to look at Marathel’s enraptured face. “It looks like they were waiting for you,” he whispered, carefully reaching for her hand.

Marathel jumped, looked down at her hand, her pinky finger wrapped with his. She quickly shifted her eyes back up on the Purrgils above her … but she reached with her other fingers to capture the rest of his hand. Din lifted his other hand to Grogu’s back, and they stood that way for a long time. Eventually, Din wrapped his arm around Grogu, lifting the child up against him. Din stepped back and took a seat on his captain’s chair, still holding Marathel’s hand as she dropped her eyes from the Purrgils and turned to look at him. He gently tugged on her hand, and she allowed him to seat her on his lap. Din reached to recline the seat back, but it fell too quickly and Marathel nearly somersaulted off the back of the chair, and she laughed while Din cursed his rotten luck. Of all times to be a klutz, he thought. I couldn’t be suave if my life depended on it!

“This is ridiculous,” said Marathel. “I’m too heavy; I’ll squish you.”

“No, you won’t.” Even if she cut off his circulation and his legs fell off, he wouldn’t care. Din put his feet up on the console, her legs already entwined with his.

“Then I’ll break your chair.”

“Unlikely.” Even if their combined weight broke this chair, he had two more in this very cockpit. Chairs were replaceable. Din guided Marathel to lay back against him and tucked her head under the edge of his helmet.

“This many Purrgil could destroy your ship.”

“Then I will die with my clan in my arms,” said Din.

Marathel’s heart ached. She tried to blink back her tears, but failed. Then she realized she could feel his body under hers. “Did you remove your armor?”

“Yes.”

Marathel couldn’t help but smirk. “You felt safe enough to remove your armor around me?”

“It was a calculated risk.”

“And you assumed you could get me on your lap.”

Din stroked her arm. “And I love you best, Marathel, when you open your sweet mouth and say things like that.”

He was right of course, for Marathel felt the same way about him. She didn’t speak again, but remained there in his chair, on his lap, along with Grogu, watching the Purrgil fly all around them. The Purrgil continued to accompany the small ship through hyperspace, watching over the clan of three.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

#the mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #mando angst #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal stories #din x plus size fem oc #din x fem oc #din x afab oc

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beardedjoel · 2 years ago

Text

Part One of the Signs of a Lifetime Series

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC / fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: smut, mild violence, language

A/N: i wasn’t sure about posting this but I’ve been working on this OC nonstop for ages now and love her dearly, so I hope you enjoy her story!

entire story is posted on AO3 if you wanna show me some love there!

Summary:

Bounty hunter Alya Kesyk was completely unprepared for the day she met the Mandalorian. She wasn’t looking to make any new friends, let alone change the entire landscape of her life going forward.

As a loner for the last decade, the last thing she expects is to meet someone who captivates her like this, and eventually changes her for the better.

Story begins pre-season one and may continue into the main story of the show.

Alya Kesyk was completely unprepared for the day she met the Mandalorian. She wasn’t looking to make any new friends, let alone change the entire landscape of her life going forward. It was just another day on the job for her as she swirled the dark liquid in her glass and peered around the moderately crowded cantina she was sitting in. The main bartop may not be the most inconspicuous place to be seated with plenty of more private booths lining the walls and corners of the room, but it gave her the best view of her surroundings. Over the years she had mastered the look of someone simultaneously not suspicious and not to be fucked with, which typically led to her remaining unbothered by other patrons when she was on a job. The ones that tested those waters with her found out quickly that they had made the wrong choice.

Alya took a sip of her drink as the main doors of the tavern slid open. She felt a bit of the cooler air from outside breeze past her as she turned with a deliberately passé look to see who had entered. Her facade almost faltered as she beheld the man covered completely in armor that entered. She could have sworn that the room quieted at the sight, even stilled a bit with new tension. A Mandalorian .

She wasn’t sure if this meant trouble just yet, but Alya turned her attention away from the door while keeping her ears open. The last thing she needed was any kind of scene caused by some drunk, aggressive asshole who might try to pick a fight with a Mandalorian and mess up her chances of finishing this job. She had been biding her time and gathering any last intel or movements on her quarry before moving in on him, and would be damned if anybody screwed this up for her.

The Mandalorian slowly sauntered up towards the bar, seemingly unfazed by the extra attention placed on him as he had entered the room. Alya figured that he was used to it by now - Mandalorians weren’t the most common sight after all, and they were perceived as dangerous to the average person. They were raised to be fighters, warriors, and absolutely not to be messed with. Even she found herself slightly unnerved by the genuine strength radiating off of him, but it was met with equal intrigue about who he was. He had on a shiny, pure beskar helmet that looked rather new compared to his other armor pieces - scratched up mismatched red-brown plates covering the rest of him. The Mandalorian seated himself with just one bar stool between them, and Alya felt her hair stand up slightly when her instincts told her something was off. No, not off, just… electric . The prickling beginning in her nerves was interrupted when the Mandalorian suddenly inclined his helmeted head towards her and spoke.

“You a local?” he said, his voice modulated to hell but with a quality that Alya instantly found herself attracted to. Focus , she hissed to herself in her mind.

“Depends on who wants to know,” she replied with a casual sip of her drink and a slight smirk. The alcohol warmed her throat, giving her that little bit of extra courage to sass this dangerous man with at least two weapons visible that she could count. She realized her suspicions upon first seeing him were correct and he was looking for intel on the exact bounty she was here to hunt.

She could have sworn she heard an exasperated scoff through his modulator. “Me” he said flatly. Alya silently praised herself that she had passed off looking like enough of a local for him to even ask, not that she had ever doubted herself. Something about him filled her with an instinct to trust, so she decided to go against everything she typically stood for on this strange whim that was stirring within her.

“I’m not local, but I sense we might have… mutual interests here” Alya peered over at him and the Mandalorian’s head seemed to look over at her more quickly than he had been moving before. It was impossible to read him through the helmet, but she sensed he was taken aback.

“Oh? And just what exactly do you think that would be?” he said while turning his body more fully towards Alya.

She discreetly pulled the bounty puck out of her pocket to show him and then slipped it right back in a few moments later, looking back up at her new companion with searching eyes. He made a sort of amused chuckle noise through the modulator in response but didn’t say anything.

“If my assumption that you’re a Guild member as well is correct, which I know it is, then I have a proposition for you.” Alya tried to keep her tone steady, detached but she felt her heart rate pick up a little.

“I’m listening,” Mando leaned even closer to her. She could see her reflection a bit better in the helmet and smoothed the few loose strands of her pulled back red hair behind her ears slightly.

“I’m thinking of a collaboration of sorts. Don’t ask me why. This is a high profile bounty which means good money for me, and not to mention I was here first and should be taking one hundred percent of the reward, but for some reason I find myself feeling generous today.” Alya held out her hands, palms open, and shrugged slightly. Something had absolutely struck her senseless about this mysterious man, and maybe her sudden urge to share a bounty for fuck’s sake was just to keep him around a bit longer. “You help me wrangle this guy up, we split the bounty, and then neither one of us leaves here empty handed.”

She watched Mando ponder for several moments, and began to worry she had said the wrong thing, pissed off the wrong asshole today. She had a bad habit of doing that, didn’t she, she wondered to herself.

“Okay.”

Alya quickly glanced up at where she assumed his eyes would be under the helmet and felt the corner of her mouth turn up slightly. “It’s a deal, then” she said, holding out her hand. She was surprised when Mando took it and shook her hand, her fingertips poking out of her fingerless leather gloves touched his gloved hands. While there was no skin to skin contact she found it electrifying all the same.

“Alright, tell me what you've got, we can compare notes,” Mando implored her, folding his hands together.

“The quarry has been hiding out here on Canto Bright long enough to actually secure a job somehow. And you’ll never guess where he works.”

The small chuckle came through the modulator again, quickly becoming music to Alya’s ears. “So you know the quarry works here, and you’re just… drinking at the bar?”

Now it was Alya’s turn to laugh. “Even bounty hunters deserve a break, don’t we? I’m actually scoping the place out instead of going in guns blazing, but maybe that’s not your personal style?” she teased back.

“Hmm. Fair enough,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So, how did you know?”

“Know what?” Alya raised her eyebrow slightly, looking at him.

“What I was here for. That I’m with the Guild.”

Alya smirked slightly. “I… had a feeling.”

“You’re just that smart, huh?” The Mandalorian’s voice sounded amused as he taunted her.

“Actually, yes.” Alya crossed her arms indignantly. “This isn’t exactly my first trip around the galaxy, y’know. It’s not every day that a Mandalorian just walks into the cantina where you happen to be getting a quarry asking questions, so I put the pieces together.”

“I can see that… clever girl,” he replied with a tantalizing tone that made Alya’s hair on the back of her neck stand up slightly. He seemed to have leaned closer to her as she was speaking, and she studied him carefully, taking in all the details of his armor. She simply raised her eyebrows, looking at him confidently.

“Are we gonna catch this guy, or what?” Alya pressed, and Mando laughed heartily at her aggressiveness.

After giving themselves another ten minutes to quickly make their plan, and for Alya to finish her drink, they were standing up from the bar and slowly walking towards the door to the tavern’s kitchen. Alya felt unbelievably powerful walking next to this mass of metal armor, having all the eyes in the room darting between the two of them and the patrons likely wondering what they were up to. They reached the door and stood on either side of it, holding off for a moment. Alya gave a slight nod to the Mandalorian to signal she was ready, and he returned it before they burst through the door together, blasters out.

The quarry knew within an instant, had likely been looking over his shoulder for weeks just waiting for this to happen. He turned and ran, his sudden momentum causing him to push metal bowls and utensils off the counters, falling with a loud clang that momentarily disarmed Alya. She snapped out of it quickly and realized he was likely heading for some employee entrance to escape. The Mandalorian called out after him and began sprinting, Alya following closely behind. Damn, he was fast, she thought, watching with amazement at his graceful speed despite all that heavy armor.

The chase went on longer than some Alya had encountered with her quarries as they weaved through a few streets and narrowly avoided groups of people jumping out of their way, but he was no match with both her and Mando chasing after him. She pushed her body, feeling the familiar pump of her legs and steady breaths she had done so many times in her self-training, and managed to push ahead of the Mandalorian at the last second and tackle the bounty to the ground, placing her thighs on either side of his body and holding his arms down. Mando halted in front of them with his blaster trained and ready to shoot. While his weapon was pointed at the quarry, he seemed to be staring at her for a few extra moments under that helmet before turning his attention back to the work at hand. She felt a small shiver at the prospect of his eyes lingering on her that she tried to quickly ignore.

“You just had to choose the hard way, didn’t you?” Alya said, sighing hard, as Mando handed her a pair of cuffs. She quickly slapped them onto the squirming man underneath her and stood up, stepping over him before letting Mando pull the bounty to his feet. Their catch made the usual grumbles at attempting to make a deal with them, offering them more than the bounty was worth, and other bullshit that they’d both heard so many times they lost count. Mando shoved him forward and they began their walk back to their ships.

Alya felt the usual high that came after chasing and catching a quarry, and having someone who understood the work by her side the entire time had been unexpectedly fun. She was used to working alone, and had been for almost ten years now, but found herself considering the idea of a partner in a positive light for the first time in a long time. Feeling self conscious, she tried to suppress her smile since she couldn't read the Mandalorian’s mood at all under his helmet.

"If you try anything --" they both started to say to the bounty at the same time, and then quickly looked at each other. Alya let out a laugh, and joked, "You stole my line.”

"I could say the same thing.” Mando put his free hand on his hip, holding onto the bounty with the other.

"Alright, so which one of us is turning the quarry in?" Alya pondered for a moment before adding, "Or we could head there together? Might make things less complicated."

"I can go. I have to make a drop anyway," Mando offered, seeming to ignore her suggestion of going there as a team.

They were mostly silent with Alya feeling a bundle of nerves, much to her dismay, as they brought the quarry the rest of the way up to Mando's ship - a Razor Crest . So very him, she thought fondly. She tried not to cringe as he got frozen in carbonite, but was impressed that Mando had the technology as she hadn’t even thought to look into that for her own ship. Her bounties had to ride along in a small holding cell and typically annoyed the hell out of her until she could turn them in.

As they stood somewhat awkwardly outside of Mando’s ship afterwards, Alya suddenly realized she had no idea how it would even work to split the bounty, since Mando was the one to take him on his ship. She also noticed at that same moment she didn’t like the idea of them splitting up so soon, feeling her heart sink slightly at the notion of it.

"So take him to Nevarro, get the credits, and have him leave half for me next time I'm there to collect from Greef?" Alya confirmed with the Mandalorian, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice. Maybe it had been taking it too far to think he would consider continuing on together. She tried to remind herself that she’d worked more than well enough on her own for years.

The Mandalorian nodded his head in response. “You trust me not to take it all for myself?” His tone sounded light, but he had a good point considering they had just met a few hours earlier.

“Should I have a reason not to?” Alya raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised by his returning her sarcastic energy. This was not the impression of Mandalorians she’d gathered from all the things she’d heard about their culture.

“I’m a man of my word. Don’t worry,” he said with conviction, putting Alya at ease. She hadn’t truly thought about it until he brought it up - she had put an inherent trust in him, which she almost never did with anyone. How strange it felt to do that so automatically with Mando, she thought to herself.

"Good.” She bit her lip slightly, uneasy at the words she knew were about to come out of her mouth. “I know it was unconventional, but I did enjoy this for a change of pace. Having a... teammate, or partner, or whatever the hell." Mando remained silent, so she went on, feeling like she may be daring just a bit too much to say what she was thinking, but figured to hell with it. She probably had a low chance of seeing this guy again with the entire galaxy out there.

"I can say I do hope we run into each other again sometime." Alya offered a half smile his way. She had no idea what was driving her to be so open, so bold with this virtual stranger, but she tended to follow her gut most of the time, and this was no exception.

After a few more moments of silence, Mando answered, "Me too.” She smiled in return, hoping he was doing the same underneath that helmet. “You’re a hell of a bounty hunter, freckles. It’s not every day I find another Guild member at the same… level of expertise as me,” he added a moment later.

“Oh really? That full of ourselves, are we?” She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head. She actively tried to forget the nickname for her he had just thrown out there like it was a completely normal, everyday experience between the two of them.

“No, I…” he stammered for a moment, “I just meant… more about you. You were impressive out there.”

“Don’t worry, Mando, I was just fucking with you.” Alya said, giving him a quick wink. He let out a small, relieved laugh and Alya felt her heart skip a beat at the sound. She silently cursed herself - she had a hard and fast rule not to get attached to anyone or anything. Ever. And yet...

"Let me, uh, walk you to your ship," Mando seemed to blurt out, sounding as uncomfortable as she had heard him thus far.

"Okay, yeah." Alya said, filling him in on what landing bay her ship was in as they set off.

They walked in silence for a few moments, their hands dangerously close. Alya wasn't sure if it was just in her head, or if the tension between them was palpable to him too.

"Do you know where you're heading after making this drop?" Alya asked into the silence.

"Likely just some more Guild business. Guess I’ll see what comes up.”

He hadn't asked her about her next whereabouts and seemed very keen on them not dropping this quarry together so she finally accepted that he definitely didn't want any company going forward. It was probably just as well, she thought.

"Through here, it'll be quicker," Mando steered them into an alleyway to the right of them, touching her arm in the process. A slight buzzing went through Alya's head and she couldn't be sure if it was still the alcohol from earlier tonight or the feel of his glove on her bare forearm. She took a small breath to steady herself and followed his lead down the alley. As much as it made her cringe, her desperation to know her new companion better, to see more of him was taking over. One last shot , she thought, to try and see him again sometime.

"Uh look, if you don't want any company to drop the quarry, then maybe -" Alya started, but was cut off when Mando suddenly whirled towards her, backing her into the nearest wall behind her. His large, powerful form came at her so fast that she felt unsteady on her feet for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"And what is it that you want?" his modulated voice was lower, filled with something new, something more that she hadn't heard yet. Desire? His body pushed closer to hers and she realized she had forgotten how to breathe normally.

"I - I -" she struggled to form words, her head spinning. His sudden change in demeanor and tone had shaken her typically calm and collected mask. She was reeling - just a moment ago, he’d seemed like he never wanted to see her again, and now he was doing this? She simply looked up at him, blinking, trying to convey with her eyes and expression what she couldn't with words. Him. She wanted him.

He seemed to read it loud and clear, because the next thing she knew, his entire body was against hers, and he quickly pulled off his gloves before reaching up to grab the back of her head and taking a handful of hair. He used his other hand to tilt her head up so that she was looking where Alya assumed his eyes were under the helmet.

"Hmm? Is this what you want?" Mando pulled slightly on the hair he was holding and then reached the other hand to begin toying with her belt.

Alya felt her senses come back to her enough to hastily breathe out a yes. Mando quickly started undoing the buckle on Alya's pants, and taking his lead she reached for his as well. He stopped abruptly and grabbed her wrist, stopping her, and shook his head.

"No. Just you.” He said in a low voice. Alya nodded slightly, still in complete shock, her breath picking up as he continued undoing her belt and unbuttoned her pants. Her breathing hitched as he reached his hand under her waistband, sliding it down.

"Fuck," she said through gritted teeth as he moved his hand lower. She knew he could feel how wet she had already been because of him, and he made a satisfied noise at that fact as his fingers slid past her clit and felt it. Alya reached up and gripped the back of his neck and shoulders, wishing more than anything this damn helmet wasn't between them but she didn't dare try pulling it off.

He started stroking her clit slowly at first, but quickly increased the intensity as Alya let out a small moan. She grabbed at anything she could on him, finding his armor in the way but she clung onto it nonetheless.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you were back there?” He murmured close to her ear, “I couldn’t wait to get you alone.”

“You have me,” she whispered through her panting as she somehow moved her body even closer to him with the little space that was left. Mando simply made a noise of what she assumed was approval as he slipped his fingers inside her, continuing to expertly circle her clit as he pushed the other fingers in and out of her at the most perfect, toe-curling rhythm.

“Maker, you feel so good,” he said, and she could hear his breathing quickening through the modulator. The fact that he seemed just as turned on by this nearly sent Alya over the edge. He leaned his head closer to her neck, trying to get as close as possible. “So good…” he murmured again, in her ear this time.

For a few moments there were just panting breaths between the two of them, Alya’s eyes half closed with desire. She could already feel the pleasure building in her core at just how fucking incredible his fingers felt, and he snaked his free hand down through her hair, trailing her back, and finally landing on her ass. He gave a short groan as he squeezed her ass, his body pressed so close there was barely room for his hand in between them.

Alya suddenly felt pleasure bursting through her, and while she had been trying to keep quiet in this very public alley, her moaning and panting were coming out at a completely uncontrollable volume. She tried to reach a free hand to cover her mouth or bite down on her fist, but Mando reached her face first with his and cupped the side of her cheek. He pulled his head back from where it was buried close to the side of her head and used his hand to tilt her head up, intently watching the waves of pleasure come over her face. He continued to plunge his fingers into her, letting her ride out her climax onto his hand. Alya felt her knees go weak as she came down from the height of her orgasm and tipped her head back against the wall behind her. Mando still had her head in his hand and she leaned her face into it, breathing heavily.

“Beautiful girl,” he said quietly, stroking her cheek, and she thought she could almost feel his eyes on her through the helmet, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on her face and her disheveled hair. He pulled his hand out from her pants and began to gently rebutton them and work on her belt when a loud beep interrupted them.

“Wh-“ Alya began to ask, still half delirious, and she heard Mando let out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit, it’s my comm signal, I set it up to alert me if anything or anyone is getting suspiciously close to my ship. And on a planet like this I don’t think that can be good news,” Mando explained. Alya felt her heart sink, but she nodded and gave a convincing half smile.

“You know I get it. How valuable our ships are to us. Go,” she said, inclining her head in the direction they’d come from.

“I… I’ll make it up to you,” he said, slowly backing his way through the alley, still facing her.

“I know,” Alya said, watching as he reached the street off the alleyway and reluctantly turned and started walking out of sight.

She stood, stunned for several moments, taking a few deep breaths and trying to understand the events of the evening. The only thing clear to her right now was that she didn’t think her life could be the same again now that he had entered it.

#aaaaaa can't believe i'm really posting this it's been my passion project lmao #my first time writing smut go easy on me #i hope literally anyone reads this bless you if you do #signs of a lifetime #fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x oc #mando x reader #mando x oc #din djarin #din djarin fanfic #star wars

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