#then comfort

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [16]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: medical trauma, mild gore (I’m not super descriptive), mentions of blood, angst, fluff, domestic bliss, brief male masturbation, tons of self doubt, idiots in love

Word Count: 10k+

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant  for everyone.

Ch. #16: I DON’T WANT IT TO BE A SIN

a/n: if you thought the sneak peek i gave you was peak domestic bliss y’all ain’t gonna know what hit you right out the gate👀

“i had never met a soul

who could speak my language.

until there was you.

you, are fluent in me.”

-lonely.penguin

When you reached the front door of the house, it occurred to you that just walking in could be a problem. With all the drama going on today, the last thing you needed was adding ‘accidentally breaking Din’s creed’ to the list. You poked your head in and called out, “Hey, I’m home!”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Din called out. His voice didn’t sound modulated, but the words made it seem like he’d be ready for you by the time you arrived. You closed the door behind you and seconds later you heard Grogu’s voice hollering for you.

“Ma, ma, ma, ma!” He chanted while turning the corner and rushing toward you. Seeing his cheery demeanor as he waddled to you, full of life and energy, made you forget every single worry that was clouding your mind.

“Grogu!” You gasped with a grin. Quickly, you knelt down in time for him to leap into your arms and you cradled him to your chest, peppering kisses along the top of his head, “Hi, baby. I was so worried about you.” 

“Missed ma.” Grogu buried his face into the crook of your neck and tears sprung to your eyes. Maker, you were pathetically emotional today. When you looked up from the boy hugging you, you saw Din leaning against the wall with his helmet on. His arms were crossed over his broad chest. His black t-shirt was form fitting and you couldn’t help but admire the skin available for you to stare at. Knowing he didn’t reveal himself in this state to anyone else made your face flush with warmth. Grogu un-buried his face from your neck to set his hands on your cheeks⏤ dragging your attention back to him. “Epar.”

You ran through the dictionary of Mando’a words you knew until you found the familiar word. “Eat? Did buir make food?”

“Buir tried.” Din grunted. “But someone is being picky.”

Grogu blew a raspberry at his father and both you and Din chuckled in response. Picky or not, having Grogu awake and playing was such a relief. Din pushed off the wall and drifted closer. As he approached, you felt your breath catch in your throat. If Din noticed he didn’t comment. Instead, he caressed the side of your arm with the back of his fingers before letting his hand trail down until it rested on your lower back. With this new position, Grogu was sandwiched between the two of you.

“Hi.” You mumbled softly.

“Hi.” Din echoed back, but his voice was tinged in amusement. “How was Nima?”

You nodded. “Good. She’s good. How⏤ Um, did you⏤ I was wondering⏤”

“Are you hungry?” Din asked simply as you tried and failed to squeeze out a sentence about your future. “I made three different meals because Grogu asked for them then changed his mind after a bite. So you have options.”

You gave him a small nod and Din led you toward the kitchen keeping his hand on your back. On the kitchen counter, as he said, were three small portions of different dishes. Each with a Grogu sized bite taken out of it. You ticked Grogu in the side. “What do you wanna eat, baby?”

“It’s a trap. Don’t believe anything the little womp rat says.” Din hummed.

“You’re not a little womp rat. You’re a little angel, aren’t you?” Grogu giggled at your cooing and his laughter increased at the sound of his father’s scoff of disbelief. You opened the fridge with Grogu in your arms and let him peer in. Regardless of what he asked for, you were going to make him something light. The last thing you wanted to do was upset his stomach. But considering you still wanted to give him one more dose of antibiotics, he definitely needed to eat something. Grogu began to point at the fruit drawer and you chuckled. “Okay, baby. How about you go hang out with buir while mama makes lunch?”

“Come here, ad’ika.” Din held his arms out to take Grogu from you. 

It didn’t take you long to prep the snack for him. You had taken the plain yogurt in the fridge and used the blender to mix the fruit and yogurt together. His favorite fruit was a bit acidic so you wanted to make it less so with the yogurt. When it was made up, you brought the bowl over to Din and Grogu and scooped a bit on a spoon. He took the first spoonful then chirped for another.

Din snorted with a shake of his head. “You’re really becoming a mama’s boy, you know that?”

Grogu ignored him and continued to take any spoonful you offered him. You shot Din a sheepish smile, “Sorry. I promise I’m not trying to steal him away.”

“Don’t be.” Din replied. He used the hand not holding Grogu to hold the boy’s hand. “I like to see it. I’m happy he has a mama to be a mama’s boy for.” Your heart skipped a beat in your chest⏤ something you thought only to be a figure of speech. “I can finish feeding him if you want to eat.”

You nervously shook your head. “Can we⏤ Can we talk before we eat?”

“Of course. Say what you need to say, ner kar’ta.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could say something.” You admitted. Grogu, plenty happy with his food and being surrounded by those who loved him, just lightly bounced in Din’s arms as you fed him. You shrugged. “I assume… Did you read my file?”

“I did.”

“And?”

You waited nervously as Din remained silent. As comfortable as it had been seconds before, you didn’t want to fall into a lull of false security. You wanted Din to share his opinion so you could figure out your standing in his life. Finally, after feeding Grogu five more spoonfuls, Din spoke.

“What is a fat embolism?”

The spoon in your hand shook as your hand trembled and you were forced to set it down into the bowl. Grogu whined at the motion. It took you a moment before your hand felt steady enough to resume feeding the child. What a question. A lawyer had asked you the exact same thing while in court. It had been difficult to answer then as well and not because of a lack of knowledge. 

“It’s when a globule of fat blocks blood flow.” You murmured. “You can see it after trauma. Fat seeps out of a bone fracture, gets into the bloodstream, and it…” You took in a slow breath. “It’s not always fatal. You just have to catch it early, and we⏤ I didn’t.”

Din nodded. “That’s what the file said. That Soran’s cause of death was cardiopulmonary arrest due to a pulmonary fat embolism.”

“I thought we were in the clear.” You said and your voice came out in a whimper. “I thought she was okay. She was stable. Soran was stable.” There was that word again. Stable. It hadn’t met anything that day. Maybe that’s why you had used it so much last night and this morning. If you said it enough it would be true. You should’ve said it more that day. “She was stable and then she wasn’t.”

Finished with the bowl of yogurt and pureed fruit, Grogu whined to be let down and when Din followed the child’s instruction Grogu waddled away. Both of you watched him heard toward the hall before Din’s focus on you pulled you back into the moment. He reached out and let just the tip of his fingers drag down your arm⏤ leaving a trail of fire against your skin. Din didn’t stop until his hand slipped into yours, fingers tangling together. 

There was a sense of security that came with the weight of his hand in yours. Din’s thumb traced circles where it rested. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“Can you walk me through it? I don’t know a lot about medicine.” Din lifted his hand, carrying yours with it, and rested it against his chest. The back of your palm pressed against his heart. You could feel it’s steady beat. “Not unless it’s bacta or cautery, that is.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment, but it was short lived. You gave a small shrug. “She crashed. Soran couldn’t breathe. There was no other reason for it so I knew it had to be a clot. I had hoped it was a blood clot. I could fix that.” You pressed your lips together. Eyes focusing on the edge of his helmet⏤ unable to meet the eyes you couldn’t even see. “Started a blood thinner to break apart the clot, but it didn’t help. That’s when I knew… the blockage wasn’t a blood clot. It was a fat globule.”

“What are you supposed to do for that?”

“There’s nothing you can do. Not at that point.” You answered. “We don’t have a medicine to break up a fat embolism quickly. The moment it got lodged in her lungs like that…”

Din nodded. “How do you prevent that from happening after a trauma? Is there a medicine for that?”

“Well, no, you⏤ Din, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to understand.” He replied. “The court transcripts had a few different testimonies. They all had a common agreement. Every doctor interviewed said Soran was dead the moment that building landed on her.”

You shook your head and tried to pull your hand away, but Din’s grip tightened. He wouldn’t let you go. “She was my best friend. I knew her since we were kids. We grew up together⏤ we were neighbors. I shouldn’t have been her doctor.”

“You were the only one available at the time. You tried to find someone, but there was no one else.” Din replied. “If you hadn’t jumped in, then she would’ve died even sooner.” He leaned forward. “The starship collision caused the building she worked in to collapse. Soran got trapped in the rubble. A pillar fractured her femur and shattered her pelvis.” The way he spoke was as if he had memorized the transcript itself. “Soran was trapped for eight hours before she was un-buried and brought to your ED. A pulmonary fat embolism, something you said that can’t be prevented or treated, can form six hours after even a single fracture.”

Your bottom lip quivered and you bit down on it in a poor attempt to control your emotions. These were all facts you knew. Logically, you understood everything, but there was a part of you that could not shake the guilt that planted roots in your heart. The entire trial you had sat in a haze. You barely remembered the specifics of those days. In fact, only one memory stuck with you⏤ the hatred and rage in Kurt’s eyes as he stared at you from the court gallery. 

“There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard before, Din.” You mumbled.

“I know. I’m sure.” Din nodded once. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to say it.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Ner kar’ta, you did not kill your best friend.” The unshed tears collecting in your eyes spilled over. “Soran did not die by your hands. You were just the last hands to care for her⏤ the last hands to show her love.”

A shaky sob spilled from your lips and Din’s other hand came to rest on the back of your neck. He pulled you into his chest and rested his chin on top of your head. You had heard so many people tell you it wasn’t your fault. Each time was a different variation of the same words. But, nobody had said it quite like Din. Nobody painted your last actions with her in a loving manner. You cried into his chest and Din murmured reassurances in Mando’a⏤ the rumbling of his voice just as much a comfort as the beating of his heart. 

A force tugging at the pants around your ankle made you pull back. Grogu stood by your feet, holding his stuffed frog, and stared up at you with a tilt to his head and concern in his eyes. You let out a shaky, pathetic laugh and let go of Din to scoop the child up. When Grogu was nestled into your chest, Din pulled you back into his. There was a lot of baggage to wade through, and you knew one heartfelt conversation wasn’t going to cure everything. However, in Din’s arms you found peace.

Din Djarin was living in domestic bliss. That was the only way to describe his current state. Nearly two weeks had passed since Grogu was sick and the pirates attacked. Since then, Grogu had been picture perfect in terms of health and the busiest he had been, work wise, was when two pilots got in a fist fight over ship parking in the hangar. At home, things were nearly perfect. A wall had been broken after the discussion about Soran, you seemed more open and free. The job Karga had offered you was put out of mind it seemed, and Din had made it very clear to the High Magistrate that if he bothered you about becoming Nevarro’s physician he’d beat the kriffing hell out of him. 

The only thing that kept his situation from becoming fully perfect was the fact that Din had never been more sexually frustrated in his entire life. He had never felt closer to you emotionally, but physically your relationship hadn’t progressed beyond what happened the morning Karga interrupted the two of you. Din took advantage of the little moments available to him. A caress on your arm as he was passing you in the hall, leaning into your side when the two of you shared a couch playing with Grogu, setting his hands on your hips to peer over your shoulder while you made food. He treasured every moment because it was all he had. Never mind the fact that if he stared at you for too long the urge to rip your clothes off and pick up where left off became overwhelming.

But Din didn’t want to push. Karga bringing up your past had obviously been traumatic, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to pressure you into something you weren’t sure of because you were emotional. In the bathroom with your lips pressed against his every scar you seemed more than eager to reciprocate his desires, but since then he had been the only one to initiate touch. You never turned him down and when his hands brushed against you it brought a smile to your face, but that was all. You didn’t make the effort to touch him first and that was beginning to make Din nervous.

Had he misread your initial interest? Or had things just changed?

Regardless of the reasoning, it left Din beating his frustrations out in the shower⏤ one hand wrapped around his cock in a tight fist pathetically trying to pretend like your hands were on him once more. He felt shame with his actions. You were innocently padding around the house chasing after his son while trying to make breakfast and here he was picturing what it’d feel like to have your pretty lips wrapped around him. It made Din feel downright depraved, but then again he never claimed to be a good man. His breath hitched as the thrusts into his hands grew erratic. His other arm rested on the shower wall, bare forehead pressed against his forearm, as hot water from the shower ran down his back.

“Din!” Your voice came from the other side of the door as your knuckles rapped against the door. Hearing his name from your lips, Din came with a shudder and though he buried his mouth against his forearm to hide his pleasure a moan still slipped out. “Din? Are you alright?”

Maker, you really were going to be the death of him. Din cleared his throat, “I’m⏤ I’m fine. Just... moved wrong.” Din blurted. He had been out during the night taking care of a few reptavians who had left their nest in the lava plains to try and settle in the streets. He handled it without even having to call Mayfeld or Cara for backup, but it’d work fine as an excuse. “A reptavian⏤”

“Did you get hurt?” You asked and the concern in your voice made his chest ache. “I asked earlier and you said you were fine! Do I need to get my kit? They’re venomous creatures, aren’t they?”

Din flipped the shower’s handle from hot to cold and grimaced when the icy water replaced the warmth. It was necessary though. As absolutely pathetic as it was, the sound of your voice was going to make him hard again. He grunted out, “I just pulled my shoulder I think. No wounds for you to cauterize.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d lower myself to using a cautery.” You joked. Din chuckled and ran his hands over his face in a poor attempt to get a hold of himself. “I wanted to let you know breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a second.” He called back.

The sound of your fading footsteps made him heave a sigh of relief. Din let the ice water run over him for a moment more before shutting it off and reaching for a towel. Dank farrik. Din quickly pulled on his shirt and a pair of sweatpants before using the towel to dry his hair best he could. It’d be nice to dry it entirely before putting his helmet on, but that meant spending more time in the bathroom. Din scratched the scruff at his jawline and his stupid brain wondered if you’d prefer a clean shaven guy. He muttered a string of curses under his breath in annoyance at himself before shoving his helmet onto his head.

When he stepped out, he noticed Grogu waiting for him at the end of the hall in the arch that led into the kitchen. The little boy giggled while bouncing in place. Din tilted his head. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, ad’ika?”

“Where did⏤” Your voice drifted toward him. “Grogu, did you eat your buir’s sandwich??”

Grogu giggled again. Din chuckled and pointed at him, “Come here, you little womp rat.” Grogu squealed in excitement and rushed away. Din chased after his son who ran and jumped to avoid him. You laughed from your spot leaning against the kitchen counter. Din paused as he watched Grogu leap into your arms. He set his hands on his hips, “You think your ma can keep you from me, ad’ika?”

Din took a step around the counter, but stopped again when he noticed you mirrored his step with a smirk⏤ maintaining the same distance between the two of you. He tilted his head, lips curling into a grin under his helmet. You shrugged. “I promised to take care of Grogu and if that means protecting him from a Mandalorian…”

“I can respect that.” Din took another slow step in your direction and you stumbled back. Grogu began to pat on your shoulder as a warning. His son knew that if you really wanted to escape you’d need to start moving right now⏤ not that that would really stop him. “You know, you have a bad habit of challenging Mandalorians.”

The last time you had challenged him, while lying in bed with Grogu, Din ended up on top of you. That was the kind of situation he’d be more than happy to repeat. Grogu whined for you to run and Din found it amusing that his son was aware of any warning sign he might have. You seemed to think you were still in a position of power when the exact opposite was true. 

“Mmm, not Mandalorians. Just you.” You smirked. Din felt feral. Combining the idea of an adrenaline filled hunt and his desire for you was an addicting prospect. He liked it way, way more than he should. “What’re you gonna do about it, Djarin?”

Din slipped his hands into his sweatpants pockets, the picture of casual nonchalance, and grinned in excitement under his helmet. “I can bring you in warm,” He didn't bother hiding the amusement in his voice, “or I can bring you in cold.”

Grogu snickered conspiratorially, and you arched a single eyebrow in challenge. Din needed no further invitation. Quicker than you had probably assumed, he lunged forward and you yelped in surprise followed by a laugh. You ran from him, hurrying around the kitchen island, and Din gave chase. Without his heavy armor and gear, Din was faster than he was out in the field. He could end this chase in a second or two, but where was the fun in that? Din stayed close enough to be a threat, but far enough to allow you to slip away from him consistently. The sound of his deep chuckles mingled with the pitch of Grogu and your laughs. 

You rounded the couch, with the thought that a barrier would keep him from you. It was a fair thought, but Din hurdled over the sofa in one smooth movement and landed in front of you. You cried out in surprise and tried to spin to turn the opposite way. Din was quick to wrap his arms around your middle and lift you up off the ground with ease. He still found it cute that you had worried you’d be too heavy for him. You squirmed in his arms, but he simply tightened his.

Din could tell you about the time he had to trek across a Tatooine desert in his full gear while carrying Grogu and everything he had on a land speeder that had been destroyed in a fight⏤ including all of Boba Fett’s gear. That would come off as bragging though, wouldn’t it? Not that Din didn’t want to brag, but he at least didn’t want to be obvious about it.

“Hey!” You twisted to try and escape his grasp while Grogu leaned over your shoulder and tapped on his helmet while babbling demands between each giggle that left him. To stop your squirming, Din roughly squeezed your sides which caused even louder laughs to leave you. He didn’t know you were ticklish. It had just been a guess. One he found immense pleasure in discovering. “No tickling! That’s not fair!”

“I never claimed to play fair.” Din hummed, nestling his head by yours.

“You’re the marshal. I’m pretty sure there are laws that say I have rights.”

“Hmm, alright.” Din replied. He squeezed you once more, eliciting another startled laugh, before dropping you back to your feet so he could spin you around. Din kept his hands on your hips caging you against his chest. He tilted his head. “Would you like me to bring out a pair of binders?”

“I, uh, I…” You were grasping for words.

“Buir, parjii!” Grogu praised.

Winner. That was a good word to describe him right now. With you and Grogu in his arms, Din felt like he had won the universe. Din took Grogu from your arms and set him on the ground, “Tsikador.” Grogu whined briefly. “Ad’ika.”

Grogu mumbled an affirmative before waddling toward his room. You began to turn to help Grogu get ready for the day, but Din tightened his grip on you. Your attention focused back on him with wide and curious eyes. Din cleared his throat, nervous suddenly, and he nodded. “I wanted to…”

“What is it, Din?”

Before he could lose his nerve, Din took a steadying breath and let his hands leave your hips to settle on his helmet. He wanted you to see his face. All his fears remained. What if he felt even less like himself as he drifted further away from his Creed? What if he was overplaying his hand? What if you meant more to him than he did to you and this just scared you away? What if you didn’t like his appearance? The fears were loud in his mind, but the way he felt about you was so much louder.

Din began to lift when your hands suddenly shot up to cover his⏤ halting his movements. It caught him off guard, as did the panic in your eyes. You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“It’s alright, ner kar’ta.” Din reassured. “I’m okay with this. I want this.”

He tried once more, but your hands tugged his helmet back in place. You swallowed nervously. “I…” Realization dawned on him then. It wasn’t that you were concerned for him. You didn’t want this. Din felt his heart plummet in his chest. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

Your voice was soft and quiet, yet the words might as well have been screamed in his face with the way he was feeling⏤ like all the air had been pulled out of the room and he was suffocating. Din let his hands fall and he took a step back. One foot between the two of you might as well have felt like miles. Suddenly, new fears ran amok in his mind fueling his anxiety. Had he tricked himself into seeing something that wasn’t there? Ever since that day, you hadn’t initiated or returned any of his advances. Maker, had he been making you uncomfortable? Was he just some sleemo boss harassing you and because of his position you felt you couldn’t tell him to stop? Din had never hated himself more. He knew he was terrible at relationships and forming connections, but this was worse than he could’ve kriffing imagined.

“I should help Grogu. I promised him I’d take him to the park this morning.” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “You should get some sleep. You were out all night⏤ I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Right.” Din mumbled. You offered him a small, polite smile and hurried away. He forced himself to wander to the kitchen island where the food you made for breakfast, the items Grogu hadn’t scarfed down, lay waiting. Din found he didn’t have much of an appetite right now.

Dank farrik.

Dank farrik.

You wanted to punch yourself in the face. Was that  something physically possible? Maybe you’d ask Nima to do it for you. If you told her the mistake you made, Maker knows she’d be tempted anyway. Din wanted to show you his face. Din trusted you enough that he wanted to take his helmet off and reveal his face, and like the Maker damned idiot you were, you said no. Even with the helmet on, you could tell he was hurt. It radiated off him and it was why you had to rush away from him. 

Dank farrik, you were so stupid.

You had panicked. The way Din made you feel in such a short amount of time was terrifying. It wasn’t until Karga shed light on your past that you realized just how much he made you feel. Din brought you a comfort you didn’t know you’d be able to experience. The longer you thought about it the more scared you became⏤ the more worried. You started working for Din a few months ago. That was it. Not even half a year yet. You barely knew Din, and Din barely knew you. Sure, he knew a bit more about you now thanks to Karga, but that was just the surface. 

Your greatest fear was that you were taking advantage of Din. One of the things you did know about him was how protective he was. He showcased it with everyone in his life. The thought that Din was just growing attached to you because you needed comfort⏤ needed protecting⏤ was hardly ideal. Add that to the fact that you were his son’s caretaker. You just didn’t want Din to feel obligated to you in any way. 

These were the thoughts and regrets that plagued you as you sat on a park bench watching Grogu play with a few of the other kids on the playground. You were mildly tempted to bury yourself alive in the sandbox as repentance for the morning. That’d be easier than puzzling out your twisted heart.

“You look like you’re having a hell of a morning.” 

You turned to see Jaen standing at the end of the bench. The young woman had a daughter she had adopted who shared a class with Grogu. Where Jaen had dark skin with short wavy hair, her daughter, Elodie, was a light skinned toddler with blonde curls and bright green eyes. You had grown close with Jaen as Grogu grew close to Elodie. In fact, you could see the little girl was now sitting in the sand with Grogu as they played.

“It went from amazing to bad, shockingly fast.” You admitted. “And it was all my fault.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jaen sat down beside you, crossing her legs.

You sighed. “It’s Mando. I messed up this morning.”

“You guys have a fight or something?”

You began to explain your morning in vague details. Just enough for Jaen to understand the depth in which you had fucked up. The young woman listened intently and nodded along. “I shouldn’t have panicked like I did. It’s just⏤” You threw your hands up frustrated. “He once told me that the only people who would get to see his face are his children, like Grogu, and his wife. His wife. What does that mean that he wants to show me his face? And⏤And, what if he shows me his face and then regrets it? He’d be choosing me over his Creed in that moment, and if I don’t live up to his expectations then he’s gonna be disappointed and I’m just going to be the woman who made him break his Creed. Again.”

Jaen nodded a few times in thought, humming to herself, then narrowed her eyes at you, “You’re already his wife though, aren’t you?”

“What??” You shook your head.

“I thought you and the Marshal were married and Grogu was your kid.” Jaen replied. “The two of you are always together, you live in the same house, I just assumed…”

“No. No, no. I am not his wife. I’m his son’s nanny.”

Jaen paused a beat then tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Well, last time I checked at least.” You scoffed. Jaen’s husband, Dayen, walked up with three cups of caf. He handed the first cup to Jaen then took the one stacked on his other to hand to you. Dayen looked like he could actually be Elodie’s father⏤ his blond hair was a similar shade and his skin was only a bit darker due to working in the sun. “Thank you so much. I really needed this.”

Dayen grinned and Jaen scooted closer to you so he could sit at the end of the bench by her. “No problem, Soran.” After having your talk with Din, it almost felt odd to hear people call you by that name. Something had changed. You had initially taken her name out of guilt⏤ a way to keep her name alive. Now it felt… It felt like it didn’t fit anymore. “You were looking rough. No offense.”

“Oh!” Jaen lightly tapped his chest with the back of her hand. “You’re not gonna believe this. Soran and Mando aren’t together.”

“Yeah, they are.” He argued. “They’re married.” Jaen shook her head and he leaned forward to narrow his eyes at you in confusion. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Apparently, you guys know something I don’t.”

Jaen shifted so her back was to her husband and she could face you. “Alright. So what are you gonna do then?”

“Well,” You slumped in your seat and took a big sip of your caf before speaking again, “I was thinking about burying myself alive in the sandbox before you guys got here.”

“So, we got here in the nick of time, then?” Dayen chuckled.

Jaen shook her head. “Okay, walk me through exactly what happened again. I stopped listening out of shock when I realized the two of you weren’t married.”

You let out a small laugh followed by another sip of caf. Just as you did before, you talked about how your morning went and then you dove into the way it made you feel. This time you couldn’t bite back the list of fears that plagued you. When you finished, Jaen and Dayen were both staring at you with wide eyes.

“I overshared, didn’t I?” You sighed.

“Not an overshare.” Jaen replied. “Just a lot. You have a lot of feelings.”

You buried your face in one hand and groaned. Wasn’t that the epitome of everything that was wrong? Your friend reached out to set her hand on your shoulder and you let your own hand fall away to meet her gaze. Jaen chuckled. “You listed a lot of things you’re worried about, but something tells me that deep down it’s only one that’s holding you back. Everything else is just an add-on excuse.” She shrugged. “You have to figure out what that one thing is and address it. Otherwise, you’re always gonna freeze up.”

“Huh.” You mumbled in thought.

Dayen gave you a thumbs up. “She knows what she’s talking about. Usually.”

“Usually??” Jaen spun back around to glare at him.

“Always. I said, always.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You’re so pretty.”

“Uh huh.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the bond between the two of them. It made you think of Din. Even now, unsure and confused and panicked, seeing a moment like this he was the first to come to mind. You wanted that. You wanted to sit on a park bench with him, watching Grogu play, as your fingers tangled with his. The thought overwhelmed you. Why was it so easy for you to feel this way right now, but panic the way you did when Din offered you the first step toward this?

You took another long sip of caf as your brain tried to untangle itself. Grogu and Elodie were in the process of building a sand castle with two other kids. In the distance, you heard the squealing of metal on metal followed by the loud crash of an impact. You stiffened in your seat, everyone in the park following suit, when the sound of a woman screaming filled the air. You recognized that sound. 

“Watch Grogu.” You said as you came to stand. The cup of caf fell to the ground and it spilled as the lid popped off. “Jaen please⏤”

“We will, but⏤” Jaen stood. Dayen was already running to the sand box to grab both children. You took off running as well, but your direction was toward the scream. “Soran! Soran, what are you doing!?”

Faintly, you heard Grogu calling out for you, but you couldn’t stop. You knew Grogu was safe with Jaen and Dayen. That was enough comfort to keep you from hesitating in your forward motion. You sprinted down the street, rushing past people, until you could see Peli’s garage. It wasn’t far from the park. A crowd had formed around the outside of it. 

“Move!” You barked and pushed through the people. They didn’t move quick enough for your liking so you resorted to shoving them. “Get out of my way!” 

When you entered the garage, you could see mechanics standing near the back where something was smoking. You were close enough to hear hysterical sobbing⏤ the voice much too familiar for comfort. When you were kids, Nima had fallen out of a tree and broke her leg. The sound of her scream had been carved into your very being. It was something you’d recognize anywhere. 

The mechanics dove out of your way. A land speeder had careened into the all, cratering the brick it slammed into, and Nima’s right arm was pinned somewhere between the metal and rubble. Peli knelt by her side, yelling into a communicator. There was a flash of panic, it mingled with fear, but it didn’t last nearly as long as you thought it would. You snapped into the role of a healer just like you used to.

“Peli, I need your first aid kit. Get the med droid here as well.” You commanded. Peli rushed away and you slid to Nima’s side. You cupped Nima’s face, strained with pain and streaked with tears and oil, in an attempt to get her attention on you. “Nima. Nima, it’s me. I need you to look at me, hon.” Nima’s wide eyes finally landed on you. “There we go.” She called out your name⏤ your real name⏤ and you nodded. “That’s right. I need you to take some deep breaths with me.”

“It⏤It hurts. Maker, I⏤I⏤ It fucking hurts!” Nima sobbed, her ragged breaths worsened.

“I know, I know.” You set your hand on your chest in hopes the weight of your hand would anchor her. “Breathe. Slow breaths. Match mine, hon. Come on.”

Nima was finally able to listen to your commands, and while she continued you let your eyes dart to where her arm disappeared into the mess of metal. She was pinned below the elbow⏤ her right arm twisted and mangled. Magenta colored blood was dripping onto the garage floor under her at an alarming rate.

You glanced around the crowd until your eyes landed on a mechanic wearing a normal belt. “Here! Now!” He jumped in alarm and rushed forward. You pulled your hand away from Nima, she sobbed at the loss of touch, and you ripped the belt off him before shoving him back. “This is gonna hurt. Stay with me. Talk to me.”

As you began to create a tourniquet, Nima screamed bloody murder. You softly reassured her while keeping your hands firm and confident in your movements. You pushed her to start talking again and she began to stumble over her words.

“I messed up⏤ I⏤ I messed up.” Nima gasped. Peli finally arrived with the first aid kit and she reassured you that the droid was on his way. After being repaired, it was the only source of medical care on this rock. Other than you. “I tried⏤ I tried to stop it. I should’ve let go. I should’ve let go. My arm. My arm⏤ My arm⏤”

“Hush, girl!” Peli scolded. “Don’t think about that. Walk me through a strip down of an engine. The Razor Crest’s engine. How’re we gonna fix that? From the top!”

You were thankful for Peli’s intrusion. While she listened to Nima struggle through explaining the mechanical work, you focused on the injury. First things first, you needed to get the bike off her. The longer she was pinned the worse it would be when she was finally released. Her bone and muscle were crushed and it would end up unbalancing the electrolytes in her blood once released. 

“Hey, all of you. Grab the bike. Pull on my mark.” You yelled. The mechanics rushed to help and when they seemed to have a solid grip you checked to make sure the tourniquet was firmly in place. Rather than give her warning, you gave the mark for the mechanics to pull back. The land speeder slid out of the wall in a Maker awful sound as the torn metal scratched against the garage floor, but you could barely hear that over Nima’s horrific screams of pain. Her voice was hoarse and raw. You and Peli pulled her away from the pool of blood. As you dragged her, she passed out⏤ her head lolling to her chest. You laid her on her back and examined her arm. It was barely recognizable. Her wrist was bent at an odd angle, fingers all broken, and blood seeped out of her torn flesh and muscle. 

The worst sense of realization washed over you.

Nima was going to lose her lower arm if she didn’t get treated right now. You lifted your communicator up to speak into it and noticed then that Nima’s blood was splattered up your own arms. Fingers stained magenta. Ignoring it, you typed in the number for the clinic. Thankfully, the voice you wanted to hear answered.

“Aayla?” You cried.

“Oh, Doc! I just sent the med droid your way. Peli called us. What⏤”

“I need you to get the bacta tank up and running.”

“The bacta⏤ It hasn’t been used in months though.”

“I’ll walk you through resetting it. Get there now.” You said. The sound of her quick, muffled movements filled the air and when she said she was there you began to give her instructions. Maker, when was the last time you worked out the measurements of a bacta tank? As you instructed, you used the tools in the first aid kit to wrap soaked, sterile gauze around her arm to protect the injury. You did the mental math quickly and listed off the numbers for Aayla to use. “Did that work? Describe it to me.”

“Uh, something is happening. The screen says processing and it’s making some kind of whining noise.”

It was working. “Good. I’ll be there soon.”

“Move it!” A familiar voice shouted. You glanced over your shoulder to see Mayfeld approaching with the med droid by his side. His eyes landed on you, then Nima, then back to you in shock. “Soran?? What the kriff is going on?! What happ⏤”

“Later, Mayfeld.” You pushed to stand. “She needs to be at the clinic right now.”

He only hesitated a second more before he grabbed the floating stretcher that the med droid had brought with it. The med droid drifted closer and you could tell he was scanning Nima’s prone body. He chirped out. “Patient’s vitals are stable. However, injury to right lower arm is extensive. Amputation will be necessary.”

“She’s going into a bacta tank. She’ll be fine as long as we get her in it in the next few minutes. Then I can monitor and assess from there.” You argued. 

You and Peli bent over to help Mayfeld scoop Nima up and get her onto the stretcher without jostling her too much. The droid hummed in casual disagreement. “I am not authorized to establish or monitor a bacta tank. That is limited to a program beyond myself and⏤”

“I’m a physician! License code 32RJ90012.” You snapped, ignoring the weight of eyes on you. “You listen to me.”

The droid nodded. “Yes, Doctor.” 

“Now, let’s go.” You hurried out of the garage as Mayfeld kept pace with you pushing Nima on the stretcher. You were going to save Nima and her arm. There was no room for hesitation, no room for self-doubt, and no room for error.

Din Djarin was going to commit homicide this morning. Already, he was over today after his blunder with you. After you had left with Grogu he had fallen into bed in hopes that he could sleep away his regret and disappointment. Only a few hours had passed when he was awoken by a banging on his front door. It wasn’t that he needed more sleep, he was well acquainted with little to no sleep, it was the principle of the thing. Din didn’t want to be disturbed and whoever was pounding their fist on his door repeatedly was going to be shot and left for dead on his porch.

After pulling on his armor, he stormed to the front of his house and ripped the door open. Greef Karga stood there with a casual look of nonchalance on his features. Karga gave him a smile in greeting and Din reminded himself that it would be a bad look for the Marshal of Nevarro to shoot the High Magistrate dead. If he did, the city might expect him to rise in the ranks and Din would rather die himself than lead this city.

“You’re not allowed to knock on my door anymore, Karga.” Din barked in irritation.

Karga’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mando. You’re in a rather foul mood. Don’t tell me I interrupted you again.” Din’s hand clenched on the door frame. People always assumed he was a patient man when quite the opposite was true. Din was quick to anger, quick to any emotion really, but the beskar he wore acted as a mask he could hide behind and he had grown very, very good at controlling himself. The bad news with that was that people overestimated how far they could push him. Karga swept past him into the house and Din slammed the door shut. Karga scoffed, “Really, Mando. No need to be so cross. I did exactly as you asked and stayed far away from the Doctor Nanny, as promised.”

“Then why the kriff are you here?” Din spat. If Karga had come to bother you about a job again his self-control would shatter to pieces. 

“I’m here for business with you, old friend.” Din simply crossed his arms at Karga’s words. The man sighed and pulled a puck from his robe pocket. “We have eyes on Daelar.”

Din caught the puck when it was tossed to him and activated it. “Where is he?”

“Hiding out even further in the Outer Rim, if you can believe in.” Karga replied. “A little out of the way, but I got eyes all over. He didn’t stand a chance.”

Din rolled the idea around in his head. Now that would be quite the way to work out his anger and frustration. Daelar signed his death certificate the moment he abandoned you and Grogu. Maker knows Din had killed for less in the past. A good man would let that rage go. A good man would turn Daelar into the authorities and get his license taken away. A good man wouldn’t commit to murder quite so quickly. But, as it had already been established, he was not a good man.

“What’re you planning on doing to him?” Karga questioned. Din didn’t respond. He had no reason to and the less people knew the better. When the High Magistrate realized he was not going to receive an answer he huffed. “I thought finding this news out would put you in a better mood. Where’s my little buddy? He’ll be happy to see me. He napping?”

“He’s at the park.” Din replied.

Karga’s eyes widened. “You’re off so she should be off as well, shouldn’t she? You do give her time off, don’t you?”

Din had a smartass remark hanging from his lips, but he swallowed it as the thought occurred to him. He always assumed you took care of Grogu on Saturdays as well because of a desire to be with the child, but he had never outright asked you. Most of his days off, all three of you would end up at the park or spending time at home. Had you experienced a proper day off yet? Did you feel obligated to continue caring for Grogu because he hadn’t specified that it wasn’t your responsibility on his days off? Din just enjoyed spending time with you and loved having the two people he cared for most in this galaxy within his reach on his day off. After what happened this morning, Din was drowning in doubt. When you dragged the edge of his helmet back down over his head you might as well have shoved his head underwater. 

The ringing of a communicator snapped Din out of the haze he had fallen into and he lifted his vambrace, but it was Karga who was receiving a message. He watched curiously as Karga’s face fell while reading. Din stiffened, “What’s going on?”

“We have to get to the clinic now.” Karga marched for the door and Din didn’t hesitate to follow. “Nima was injured.”

It didn’t take the two of them very long to make it into the clinic and the first person Din spotted was Peli standing by the front desk arguing with the medical tech he had met before. Aayla was her name? Peli slammed a hand down on the front desk’s counter.

“She’s my employee, why can’t I kriffing go and see her!?”

“The patient is currently in a bacta tank and per physician orders⏤”

“I don’t give a damn⏤”

“Peli.” Din called out. The curly haired woman turned around and her face was drawn in lines of frustration and panic. Karga drifted away when he spotted Mayfeld talking to a few mechanics off to the side. “Talk to me.”

Peli shook her head. “Nima basically lost her kriffing arm and this tail head won’t let me through!”

Din held his hands out in a calming motion and nodded his head reassuringly. “I’m sure there’s a reason you can’t go back yet. They’re probably limiting visitors for the time being.” He wondered if you were back there with Nima. Did you know what had happened? Maybe he needed to call you. “I’ll step back⏤”

“The doc said nobody is allowed back yet, Marshal.” Aayla said.

Peli motioned to the Twi’lek as if to say ‘see’, and Din sighed. The older mechanic shoved him all of a sudden and Din was alarmed to be at the receiving end of her anger. “Go tell your nanny to let us back right now or so help me⏤”

“Wait, what?” He blurted.

“Who the kriff do you think is back there right now?? It sure as hell ain’t the med droid!”

You had… Dank farrik. Worry and concern mingled in his chest in an uncomfortable way. Awkwardness born from this morning aside, that didn’t stop how he felt. It didn’t stop him from caring. He remembered how broken you had been after Grogu. He turned back to the desk to see that Aayla had disappeared. 

Din shook his head. “What happened??”

“Land speeder malfunctioned. Shot off like a rocket. Nima tried to stop it by grabbing onto the handlebars to hit the brake, but it just dragged her along.” Peli crossed her arms with a frown. “Pinned her to the wall.” Din grimaced. Maker, that was bad. He didn’t spend much time with Nima anymore, he used to see her often when he would go to pick up Grogu from Peli, but he hoped the young mechanic was alright. “Your girl sprinted in out of nowhere and just took charge. She said she was a doctor. That true??”

Din hesitated before coming up with an answer. It wasn’t his place to admit⏤ even if you had already kind of blurted it out. Aayla’s voice chirped out as she returned and she shot him a small smile. “Doc says you can come back, Marshal.”

Peli grumbled under her breath and Din paused long enough to squeeze the woman’s shoulder reassuringly before rushing back. The first room he entered from the doors had been the one Grogu was in when he was here, but now it was empty. Against the back wall, he could see a door cracked open. Din quickly crossed the room and stuck his head into the small space.

Nima was floating in a bacta tank, peaceful and stable, while you sat cross legged on a stool with your forehead leaning against the tank’s glass. At his entrance, you lifted your gaze and he could see your brow creased with worry. Briefly, his anxiety held him back. He couldn’t rid himself of the way you looked at him when you stopped him from lifting his helmet this morning. Din shoved that to the back of his mind. This wasn’t about him. His feelings and desires did not matter a bit right now.

Din shut the door behind him as he drew closer and he dropped to one knee to kneel in beside you. You shifted on the stool so you faced him. He nodded, “How is she?”

“She’s gonna be alright.” You shrugged. “Her lower arm was wrecked, but I think we got her here in time. It’ll be a little while before I see if the bacta tank is going to heal her arm.” You wrung your hands together and Din could see dried flecks of magenta blood against your skin. It was only then that he noticed you had changed out of your clothes into a pair of random scrubs. “I had to set her arm and I did my best, but it was crushed to pieces. I don’t know if it’ll heal right.”

“I’m sure you did fine.” He said softly. Din had the urge to pull you into his arms, offer comfort, but he resisted. Instead, he wrapped his hands around the bar between the stool’s legs by your feet.

“How did you know to come?”

“Karga paid me a visit. Mayfeld must have called him to notify him about the injury.”

“Oh.”

Din briefly glanced around, “Where is⏤”

“Jaen and Dayen have Grogu. He was playing at the park with Elodie when…” Your voice trailed off as you swallowed hard. Din recognized those names and knew his son was in good hands for the time being. You shrugged. “I already called them and they said they’d bring him here after getting the kids lunch.”

Din’s fists tightened around the stool. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din pressed. The name felt right. Even if you wanted nothing to do with him it didn’t alter the change you made to his heart. You had taken it, like a thief in the night, and no circumstance would ever bring Din to try and take that back. It belonged to you⏤ It would always belong to you.

You rubbed your face and forced a smile. “I’m really not that bad. Not like last time. I’m worried about Nima because I love her, but…” You sighed. “If I hadn’t been there. It would’ve been awful. The med droid can’t operate a bacta tank.” Din nodded but didn’t speak. He could see you had more to say. “I didn’t even think of Soran while I…”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Din asked.

“Yeah. It made me remember why I went into medicine in the first place. I wanted to save people. Make a difference in the world around me.” You said. Din held back the words that came to mind. You already made a difference in the world. Your existence alone bettered the world around you⏤ bettered the lives of the people you knew. “I realized something else too.” Din waited. Your hand lifted to rub the scar over your collarbone. “I come up with all these excuses to try and avoid the real problem. I don’t want to face my fear alone so I surrounded myself in dozens of different problems as a distraction to myself. I was never running from Medicine. I was never running from myself, Din.”

“What were you running from, ner kar’ta?” His question came out in a soft whisper.

For a moment, the only sound came from the bubbling of the bacta tank. You wrung your hands once more, nervously, and Din had to once again resist the urge to tangle his fingers with yours. Give you something to hold onto. “Kurt. I was running from Kurt.” He knew the name. In your file, the name of the man who brought you to court to try and take away your license had been Kurt. Din made the connection when your hand lifted again to touch the scar. “He tried to kill me.”

If Din thought he had been angry before, he was wrong. He could feel his blood boiling within his beskar armor. The thought of someone even laying their hands on you filled him with more rage than he should be allowed to feel, but the fact that there was a person out in the galaxy who had actively tried to kill you⏤ to take you out of this world⏤ made his teeth clench. His back molars threatened to crack with how tense his jaw had grown.

“You don’t have to be angry about it.” You murmured. People always confused his measured anger for patience, but not you. You always seemed to know how he felt under the helmet regardless of how quiet he kept himself. “He’s on trial right now for it. I don’t know the details. Nima actually knows more because I don’t like keeping up with it and she says someone has to.” You shrugged. “When he was… hurting me,” Din sucked in a sharp breath to try and maintain some semblance of control, “He said all this terrible stuff. How it was my fault, and I deserved to die because of it. He was the reason I blamed myself for so long. I think a part of me still does.”

“That wasn’t⏤”

“I know.” You chuckled. “I’m doing so much better since we spoke, you did so much for me, but some days are better than others. I think it’ll always be that way. One day I’ll wake up and I‘ll understand it was out of my hands, and on some other day I’ll wake up and blame myself. I don’t think there’s a cure for that.”

Despite talking about your pained past, you wore a small smile on your face and Din had never felt such pride at seeing a smile. Maker, you were strong. You were his heart, and you were so kriffing strong. He wanted to put it into words and express that to you, but he didn’t know how. Dank farrik. Din relied so much on action and not being able to touch you, reassure you, share his pride in you, left him feeling like he had lost one of his senses entirely. 

“And, Din, about this morning,” Your smile faltered and Din stiffened, “I’m so sorry⏤”

“No. Don’t.” Din blurted and shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. I do. I shouldn’t have pressured you into anything⏤ I should have asked before⏤”

You reached out and set a hand on his shoulder, close to his neck, and he could feel the weight of you through his cloak and flight suit. “Din, you did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. I panicked because…” You squeezed his shoulder. “I did the same thing again. Came up with a bunch of issues and doubts because I was scared to admit what the real problem was.” Din’s mouth grew dry and it felt like his heart was going to literally beat out of his chest. He didn’t know where this was going, he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, but the flicker of hope was a dangerous thing. Din didn’t think he’d survive extinguishing twice. Finally, you spoke, “I’m scared⏤ terrified⏤ that I’ll become a burden and disappointment to you.”

Din blinked in shock. Of all the words that existed in Basic that you could string together, he never expected that sentence. A burden? A disappointment?? Never. You could never be either. He was at a loss for words. How could he show you how he felt? How could he make you understand what you meant to him?

“I know right now you consider yourself an Apostate.” You said. He noticed the way you stressed the word ‘you’. As if trying to make it clear that it was not the same belief you held. “So, maybe it makes showing your face easier, but I⏤ I don’t want to push you further from your Creed. I know how much it means to you, how important it is, and I would hate myself if I became a barrier between you and it.”

“Ner kar’ta⏤”

“And what if we drift apart? I’d just be the woman who took advantage of a moment⏤ who accepted something that I wasn’t sure you were even ready to give.”

Din shook his head. “That isn’t the case. I am ready. I⏤ I care for you.” Maker, why was it so hard to speak? “This wouldn’t become something I regret. You could never be something I regret.”

You startled him by sliding off the stool forcing his hands away from the bar. You knelt in front of him and lifted your hands up to his neck. Your thumb brushed against the skin right under his helmet where his shirt didn’t quite reach. Din sucked in a breath at the contact. It meant more because it was you who initiated it.

“Your face isn’t a factor in what I think of you.” You said firmly. “What you look like under there, it will never change how I see you. I already know the kind of man you are. When I⏤ If I get to see your face…” Din noticed the slip up. The eventuality. He almost wanted to correct you. There was no ‘if’ about this. “I don’t want it to go against your Creed. I don’t want it to be a sin that requires redeeming.”

If Din wasn’t being held up by his heavy, beskar armor he was sure he would’ve melted into your arms. For the first time in a long time, he was relieved he wore a helmet because he didn’t want you to see the way his eyes began to water. Din always assumed that unless he found someone within the covert, he would have to choose between love and his Creed. He had resolved himself to that fact and understood that meant he might never have love.

Meeting you was the first time since Grogu that he was willing to show his face. You were, without a doubt, the first woman he had met who tempted him to cast aside his Creed⏤ a feat he didn’t think would ever be possible. Once he fell into your orbit, he was caught and there was nothing that would pull him away from you. Din was sure even you weren’t aware of the power you held over him. He would go to war with his bare hands if you commanded it. He would cross the galaxy ten times over if it meant bringing you any shred of happiness. But, instead of making him choose a part of himself, you accepted every bit of him. You understood the respect he had for his Creed and you would not force him to walk away from it. More than just that, you stopped him from making the decision he thought he had to make. You made him realize that he shouldn’t have to sacrifice a part of himself to deserve love.

“Can I touch you, ner kar’ta?” Din asked in a voice too quiet and hoarse for his liking.

“You never have to ask, Din.” You replied. 

Din collapsed into you. He pressed his head against your chest and wrapped his arms around you. When your own arms came to cradle him, your chin resting on the top of his helmet, Din let out a shuddering breath. Your hand held the back of his neck, finding that small sliver of skin once more, and he felt your fingers brush against the hair that sat at the nape of his neck. Din could’ve stayed like this forever, but too soon you began to pull away.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked. “It’ll be an hour or so until I’m able to see what direction Nima’s condition is moving in, and I don’t want to leave her side.”

Din’s throat was still tight, unshed tears lining his lashes, and he didn’t trust his voice. He dragged himself a few feet away to lean against the wall and held a hand out to you. He could see your shoulders sag in relief, an invisible weight being lifted, and you crawled toward him. Rather than settling next to him, you placed yourself between his legs and leaned back against his chest. You lightly grasped his arms to pull around you in a hold and you didn’t need to tell him to keep his grip there. Din squeezed around your waist while you held onto his arm. Your fingers tracing the lines of his vambrace. A comfortable silence surrounded the both of you and Din took in a steadying breath. 

This wasn’t a crush or infatuation. This was something special. A part of him always knew, but he had never felt more confirmation of that then he did right now. This was unique and he had to do this the right way. Din wanted to do right by you, provide for you, and in order to properly court you like a Mandalorian should he’d need to find his Creed once more.

Din needed to find redemption.

He needed to go to Mandalore.

mando’a translations

Epar : Eat Buir : Father Parjii : Winner Tsikador : get ready Ad’ika: little one Ner kar’ta : my heart

A/N: This is the first chapter that feels like a real chapter to me. I love all the other ones, don’t get me wrong, but if you know me from AO3 at all you know I like to pick a theme and then explore that theme in a single chapter which makes my chapters unusually long. I got to do that with this one and it makes me so so happy. Hopefully it made y’all happy too🥰

@aheadfullofsteverogers​ @yyiikes​ @kneelforloki​ @c-ms1ut​ @sgt-morgan​ @luthienaliceisilra​ @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay​ @coldlamaspersonspy​ @dilfsaremyfavourite​ @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover​ @teawrites01​ @emily-roberts​ @djarinxore​ @impala1967666​ @shelbyteller @faithrenner​ @dindjarindude​ @dankfarrick29​ @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo​ @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace​ @onceinamando​ @catharinaroxastova​ @uwu-i-purple-you​ @modiddys-blog​ @harriedandharassed​ @stagerightlauren​

[bebx]

[kayiiin]

Reactivate this acc just for them, I'm sobbing. sequel

[everythingwasnormalhere]

pls rb if you think cuddling doesn't have to be s3xual

im tryna prove a point to my bf's mother help me out

[ganymedesclock]

I think cis people should also be their gender of choice. Like, if you're a man, you should get to really enjoy being a man- have fun with it! If you're a woman, take the parts of womanhood that really deeply make you happy. If being a little androgynous or ambiguous or hidden is the part that really makes you happy, you don't have to be trans for that. If you wanna lean really hard into being femme or masc- do it! You have one life in your body, do what makes you happy. Ditch the stuff you don't like.

My sinister queer agenda is I think that everyone should be the gender they like in the way they like it.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[fly-chicken]

A Pragmatic and surprisingly comforting perspective about the Trump 2nd Presidency from the ACLU

***Apologies if this is how you found out the 2024 election results***

Blacked out part is my name.

I’m not going to let this make me give up. It’s disheartening, and today I will wallow, probably tomorrow too

AND

I will continue to do my part in my community to spread the activism and promote change for the world I want to live in. I want to change the world AND help with the dishes.

And I won’t let an orange pit stain be what stops me from trying to be better.

A link to donate to the ACLU if able and inclined. I know I am

[violetreminder]

I hope the "What if Disco Elysium was about a witch finding her cat in the mountains" post never leaves the gaming discourse vernacular. It will never not be funny to me bc it's got all the Gamer Entitlement™ levels of CoD bros throwing hissy fits about "woke" shit but instead of being couched in far right reactionism it's the exact kind of "Kingdom of Conscience" style liberal outrage at anything with conviction and beliefs that DE waxed on about. Like even chuds who get mad that the game calls you out for being racist interact with the themes of DE better and understand them more than Cat Lady did.

[futuristic-koala]

[cronchy-baguette]

I promise

[swan2swan]

Whoever conceived and animated this moment, I hope they're doing well and thriving. This is S-rank romance stuff here.

[runawaymarbles]

Haven't figured out a politic way to word this but before saying someone/thing "makes you uncomfortable" please ask yourself this important question: is it any of your fucking business

[bebx]

[edwardcreel]

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Welp, if JK Rowling being executive producer and therefore being fully involved in the show wasn't enough for people to boycott, then here's HBO basically saying they don't care JK Rowling is a bigot from hell who literally helped lead a harassment campaign of lies against Imane Khalif in her transphobia and obsession with women being terf's standards of women alongside posting harassment against trans people on twitter at times, they gonna stand by her, while using the excuse, "personal views". Hmm, yes, personal views- that's one way to uh, call what the fuck JK Rowling comes out with a-lot- last I checked personal views do come with consquiences if said out loud....a thousand times in JK's case and still counting....especially if they hurt people, but hey, if it means making another Harry Potter project to milk, just let it fucking be I guess.