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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn.

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate.

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug.

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli.

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold.

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship.

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction.

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit.

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present.

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed.

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked.

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his.

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.”

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship.

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore.

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging.

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I��ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry.

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm.

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated.

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting.

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran.

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help.

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured.

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with.

Was it still true?

“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love.

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him.

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured.

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #dark!din djarin #female reader #reader insert

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yoitsjay · 6 months ago

Note

Thank you so much for posting the list of who you do write for! I apologize if it was posted elsewhere and I didn't see.

I'll go ahead switch the request from Commander Fox to FTM Trans reader x Din Djarin/The Mandalorian smut.

Have an amazing day, and also have some flowers. 🌺💐🌹🌻🌷

It's no problem at all! All characters I write for are in my masterlist which is pinned at the top of my blog :] thanks for the request!

Di'kut (MDNI 18+)

Pairings: Din Djarin x FtM trans! Reader

Summary: while on a mission, tension grows and you trip in a bed of sex pollen. Din, unaware that you were not a man before, helps you out, and is in for a pleasant surprise.

Warnings: smut, unprotected (p in v) no bottom surgery, din is sweet at first, rough sex, manhandling, cunnalingus, sex pollen, oral, sweet aftercare

Word count: 3,184

You met Din Djarin through some ‘connections’ the both of you shared, aka Fennec Shan, who was a good friend of your mothers for the most part and started teaching you how to get into the art of bounty hunting. She was good at what she did so with her training you started getting good too. So one day you were getting desperate for credits, and this was after your mother had died so you had a bit more freedom on what you wanted to do with your body.

When your mother was alive you stole credits from her and saved up to afford a surgery you then snuck off planet to get, and it was a success and now you had a deeper voice and no boobs. YAY! You liked boobs… just not on you.

But since your mother was dead and you had no way to steal any of her credits (which is what killed her when she found out) you reached out to Fennec, and asked for a job that paid well. So that led you to now, and you had been happily working alongside The Mandalorian, Din Djarin for a few months on quite an array of jobs.

He had a weird little green child which you had to swear to also protect, but you didn’t mind, the green thing seemed to like you as much as you seemed to like it. Plus you gave it treats when Din wasn’t looking.

Every job you worked you split the credits earned, and instead of spending yours, minus when you bought your own rations or ship fuel, you had saved it all in a little safe compartment you had built into your ship.

When you met Din, his new ship was way too tiny to fit two people, plus he had the green thing in the back, who’s name you learned was grogu, so you started calling him that now. But regardless his ship wasn’t big enough so you stole your mom’s old instead.

But regardless his ship wasn't big enough for two people plus Grogu so you took an equivalent of a cab to your home planet and you found your mom's old ship, which was a small attack shuttle. You fixed it up easy enough and managed to get it up in the air and back to Tatooine to get some better repairs from Motto.

And soon you and Din were up in the air and headed to your next location that Din had the bounty for, courtesy of Fennec Shand. “So where are we headed exactly?” You questioned through the comms you and Din had established. “It's a forested planet, Fennec said the bounty there had built a hut in the middle of the dense swamp area but there are no places to land close enough, so there's gonna be a bit of a walk.” Din explained

You huffed, forestry planets were not really your thing despite having grown up on Felucia. It was always so hot and humid on those planets, so you tried to avoid them to the best of your ability…But this was the last mission you needed in order to get your final surgery. “Pulling out of Hyperspace'' Din announced, and you readied your ship, pulling out of hyperspace when Din did, following him down to the landing zone that he had found.

The area around was heavily forested with a swampy ground, which was gross and you could already smell it which made this experience a whole lot worse. You armed yourself and made sure all your weapons were loaded before you met up with Din and Grogu outside, who was safe in his floating bed. “Little bastard.” You muttered, and Grogu just cooed at you. “Ready?” Din asked, and you nodded, walking beside him as he led you through the forest with the tracking fob.

You couldn’t really remember how long you and Din were exactly walking for, but when the marshlands started getting deeper and you started wading through thick swamp water you knew that you were getting close.

The bounty target was not smart, that you knew for sure. He had obvious traps that you and Din easily disarmed, and when you got to the bounty he screamed and froze so you tied him up and handed him off to Din, who had the bounty tossed over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.

The action made you blush a bit, but you and Din continued walking all the way back to your ship, taking a shortcut this time now that you understood the terrain a bit better… But as you and Din walked, you noticed some pretty exotic looking flowers and plants starting to surround you, pollen floating around in the air. “Hey din, you go on ahead and put the bounty in my ship lockup… I wanna examine these plants.” You told him.

Din tilted his head to the side, hesitating before nodding and walking off with the bounty, bringing him back to your ship to put him in lockup like you said.

In the meantime you had started taking pictures of the plants with your datapad, analyzing them for your planetary databank. You walked away from a group of red and white flowers, not watching where you were stepping as your foot was caught on a root that was in the swamp water, and you let out a surprised yelp as the datapad flew out of your hands, landing on a bit of dry land while you had landed in a bed of heavy pollinated flowers.

It was all over your face and body, probably up your nose too because when you breathed in you sneezed, and started coughing. Your clothes were now soaked too, yippe fucking do.

You slowly pushed yourself up, wiping the pollen from your face with a grunt. You looked around, smiling when you saw your data pad unharmed. You went to stand up, but a burning feeling shot up your spine, and you fell back down to your knees, a sharp mewl falling from your mouth as the unwanted body part between your legs burned with what felt like the power of the sun. It hurt, but that familiar feeling of arousal made you ache more.

You crawled towards your data pad, small whimpers escaping your lips upon every move you made. You eventually reached the datapad, grabbing it and clutching it to your chest as you quickly tried to identify the pollen that was affecting you.

Your vision started to get blurry even as you tried to blink it away. “Fuck-” You whined out, watching as your datapad scanned the pollen and began analyzing… and the results that came back made you gasp, as well as the throbbing feeling between your legs.

“Shit-” you cursed, sex pollen was not something you wanted to encounter today, knowing that the only cure was sex, hence the name sex pollen. “Di’kut-” You cursed at yourself, curling your body into a fetal position, hoping it would relieve some of the pain and aches you were experiencing.

Just then you heard your com going off, a loud groan falling from your ;ips as you struggled to grab it from your belt. It was Din, that much was obvious.. but what on earth were you going to say to him? “Hey din guess what! i landed in a bat of sex pollen can you come fuck me so i can feel better?”

No! That was not what you were going to say.

You pressed the button on your com, biting down a desperate little whine, panting out what you needed to say. “Din i-i mph- i fell into some- so- hnng- trouble… i need your help, please” You bit down on your tongue to prevent a moan from escaping your lips, as one of your hands had miraculously found its way between your thighs, and started to try and relieve the throbbing pain that was coursing through your body.

“I’m on my way, hang tight Y/n” Din replied, and you let your com slip from your hands. “Fuckfuck- fuck!” You grunted, trying to remove your hand from between your legs but it wouldn’t budge- at least your body wouldn’t let it budge.

“Y/n? where are you?” You heard Din’s voice, deep.. sultry and gravelly… You couldn’t stop the whine this time, and he managed to hear it, rounding in on your location before he paused, seeing your hands between your legs, the wet spot growing larger the more you provided friction.

You were sweating, significantly more than you should have been. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but when you opened them you stared right at them, a glossy sheen reflected across your eyes, your pupils blown wide thanks to the pollen that was affecting you.

“We need to get you to a hospital.” He muttered, and went to grab you, but you moved away, and instead grabbed his arm and pulled him on the ground with you, before climbing on top of him. You were heaving, and trying so hard to snap out of the haze you were in, and you managed to do so, for a brief moment.

“Se-sex pollen… i fell- in-into sex- fuck! pollen.” You groaned, pressing your face into the cold metal of his chestplate, trying to relieve the heat in your face. “Shit.” Din cursed, and you could only groan in agreement.

The Mandalorian wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up as he got to his knees, and then to his feet, carrying you bridal style. “I’ll take you back to your ship, and we can deal with this together.” He muttered.

You didn;t know what he meant, but every time he took one step forward a soft whine, or a light moan left your lips, and you couldn’t tell, but he was starting to get aroused, hearing every little noise you made.

You reached your ship soon enough, and Din brought you to your small bunk room, laying you down on the bed as he stared for a moment as you writhed and tried to relieve yourself through your clothes.

He inhaled through his nose, and slowly started removing pieces of his armor until nothing but his helmet was left, and his underclothes which consisted of a thicker pair of light black trousers, and a long sleeved black tunic. Din took a step closer to you, but you didn’t look up, instead your face was buried into your pillows, muttering unintelligible words mixed in with moans.

Din gently cupped your face in his gloved hands, and you looked up into his visor, but to him you were looking directly into his eyes. “hey- hey… I'm going to undress you, okay?” He asked, and in your haze, you muttered a soft yes. You could say no anytime you wanted, but you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him, and you didn’t want to be in pain longer than you needed to be.

DIn was swift in removing your clothes, like he had done it hundreds of times before, and he probably has. But you trusted him, trusted him not to stick his dick inside you unless he was clean… Another thing you failed to mention to him was the fact that you were not biologically a male.

So when your pants and underwear were off and he came face to- well, vagina. He was a little surprised. “Your-”

“Trans-” You grunted out, gripping the sheets of your bed as you let your legs hang open in front of him, panting heavily. “I was- mph- saving up for surgery… this was the last job i needed.” You muttered through your haze. Din nodded, he didn’t judge, you were a fun person, you made him laugh, and smile even though you couldn’t see it.

“Can i-”

“yes! yes- please.” You whimpered. It's not like you haven't had sex before with that certain body part, and if it helped you, you were all for it. Of course anal was something you also enjoyed… for obvious reasons… probably.

You let your eyes fall closed while Din removed some articles of clothing. He removed his shirt, and undid the buckle of his pants before unbuttoning them too, before he paused. “Im- i’m gunna blindfold you.”He muttered, and you simply nodded, taking one last look at him before he took a piece of fabric and gently wrapped it around your eyes.

You heard a thunk not long after, and you assumed it was his helmet that he dropped to the floor.

You jolted when you felt his hand slide up your thigh before resting on your hip, jolting again when his second hand went in between your thighs to replace your hand. A groan fell from your lips upon contact, followed by a string of moans as he began circling your engorged clit with two fingers. Everything was heightened for you but even then he knew what he was doing…

Then he pulled his hand back, and a desperate whine fell from your lips, followed by a gasp as he grabbed your waist and flipped you around so you were on your hands and knees in front of him. “Din- what-”

You choked when you felt something wet press into your folds, and his fingers returned to your clit but this time you felt the sensation of skin, instead of fabric. Din was eating you out, licking and sucking up all the juices you created. You could already feel your orgasm building up in your gut, and Din could tell as your moans got louder, and more constant.

He was slow and articulate with his actions, not speeding up or doing anything to change what he was doing because he knew it would make you cum. And he was right as one loud moan left your lips, followed by a string of curses. He pulled his head back, and you could sense the grin on his face.

Your haze had lifted slightly with your first orgasm, but you knew you still had a ways to go… But you could think a little clearer, and it was nice to be able to form more coherent sentences.

“Fuck me.” You grumbled, turning to lay on your back, spreading your legs wide as if to entice him. “What was that cyare?” he asked you, teasing bastard.

“i said fuck me, Di’kut” You growled. Yes Din taught you mando’a, and it was fun to use, since you only called him an idiot every point of the day. “alright alright.” Din chuckled, his unmodified voice sent shivers down your spine, and straight to your core.

You let yourself relax, feeling the bed shift as Din’s weight was added to it. You felt his hands on your legs, a squeak leaving your lips when he pulled you down to him, your hips slotting against his almost perfectly. You felt his cock pressed between you, and you could tell that it was large, average in length, but thick.

perfect.

“You're clean?” You asked him, and he nodded, before realizing that he had blindfolded you so you couldn’t see. “Yes, I'm clean.” He replied, and took his cock into his hands, gliding the tip through your soaking wet folds before he pressed the tip to your awaiting entrance.

“Go ahead.” You muttered, and Din slowly pushed inside you. At first the stretch hurt, but the pollen kicked in and all that pain turned into overwhelming pleasure as he pushed inside of you, inch by inch until his hips were against yours.

You panted, and so did he as he allowed you a few moments to adjust and get comfortable before he slid out. You braced yourself, reaching up to his shoulders, feeling his broad and toned shoulders with your hands. And when he slammed into you your grip immediately tightened.

he was fucking you like- well you couldn’t even describe it. His style- the way he moved and pleased you was unlike anything you’ve felt before. He was rough, and dominant and yet all the same his touches were so gentle as he leaned forward and kissed up your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin on your jaw and collarbone, probably leaving marks all over your skin.

You moaned his name, repeatedly and it just stirred him on. He had one of your legs lifted up on his shoulder while the other he had wrapped around his hip. You started to get close again, and you tightened around his cock, hearing his own soft grunts and moans at the feeling.

“Din-” You choked out, digging your nails into the skin of his back and shoulders. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, huffing against your skin which sent more shivers down your spine. “I know… cum for me Mesh’la.” He grunted. And you did, like he commanded you too.

Another orgasm shot through you like a pod racer, and you whined and moaned his name, sliding one of your hands up to his hair, gripping it tightly, to which he moaned your name in response. So you did it again, and his thrusts got harder, and sloppier and you knew he was starting to get close too.

“Not inside.” You murmured, feeling him nod against your skin. He thrusted inside you a few more times before pulling out, and instead he replaced his cock with his fingers, rubbing his thumb against your clit while pumping his fingers inside of you. And just as he painted your stomach and chest with his cum, he brought you to yet another orgasm.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and leaned back to admire the mess that he had created. He smiled, and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before getting off the bed. You laid there, unmoving as the effects of the pollen subsided, and you felt normal… well as normal as you could have been for just getting the daylights fucked out of you.

Din returned moments later with a damp cloth, and he gently cleaned the area between your thighs, followed by wiping his cum off your body. And as soon as his helmet was back on, your blindfold was removed, however at this point your eyes were still closed, and… you were snoring?

Din chuckled, cupping your cheek gently as he admired you, before dressing you in your underclothes, pulling on his own afterwards. Din was about to leave the room, but you had stirred, and watched as he turned to leave.

“wait-” you called out, watching as he turned to look at you. “We should do this again… after my surgery… and uh- without the pollen.” You chuckled, seeing the man tilt his head before he nodded.

“I’d like that… get some rest, i'll fly us back. My ship’s already docked on yours.” He explained, leaving to go start up your ship.

You smiled, and pulled your blankets over your body, chuckling to yourself. Who knew all it took was a little bit of pollen…

➺

Tag list:

Din djarin tag:

#fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x FtM!reader #din djarin x male reader #trans male #star wars #star wars the mandalorian

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ak-vintage · 2 months ago

Text

Quarry - Chapter 24

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set immediately following Chapter 13: The Jedi.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, bittersweet vibes, just a lot of love

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: This is the last full chapter of this story. There will be an epilogue tying up any remaining strings (posted this month, promise), but for now, this is where we leave our engineer and our bounty hunter. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. It means more to me than I can say.

---

Never had you been more grateful for the competence and steadfastness of your friends than in the hours following Grogu’s departure. There were no maudlin displays of emotion, no awkward questions or condolences offered, and not a single comment about the absence of Din’s helmet. Instead, everyone simply got to work, and you were certain that it was only the hustle and bustle of activity around you that kept you and Din both from breaking down right where you stood.

As the first order of business, Cara Dune used her secure comm link access to hail the nearest New Republic outpost and request support for prisoner collection and transport. The officer on the other end of the connection was eager to agree as soon as he heard Moff Gideon’s name, and after some logistical back-and-forth, he was able to schedule an escort of two X-wings and a prisoner transport vessel for rendezvous in 12 standard hours.

This was, of course, too long to rely on the stunning effects of your blasters to keep the cruiser’s crew incapacitated, so the marshal then recruited Fennec to help her comb through the ship to check for Imperial survivors. Anyone found alive was quickly disarmed, bound, and gathered in one of the cargo bays for collection by the authorities.

The bodies of the dead, meanwhile, were flagged and identified using the crew manifest. Cara took it upon herself to personally verify and record the deaths of each one of them before hauling their corpses onto a repulsorlift sled and transporting them to the medical bay for disposal.

It was grim work, you thought, but the two of them did it without complaint; by the time they returned to the bridge, both a bit winded and glowing with sweat, the marshal was proud to report that an additional 25 Imperials would be added to the New Republic’s prison rosters.

Koska and Bo-Katan, on the other hand, remained on the bridge. As soon as the mysterious Jedi’s X-wing was out of sight of the front viewport, the former was at her injured lady’s side draping her arm around her shoulders, supporting her weight as she bore her into a chair. The redhead protested, insisting she was fine, but even from the other side of the bridge, you could hear the hiss of a smothered wince as Koska peeled back the fabric of her flight suit. Two angry blaster wounds oozed there, twin scores in the meat of Bo-Katan’s pale thigh, both of them bloody and deep. It was a wonder that she had ever managed to get to her feet again, let again alone stand with both pistols drawn, ready to take on a platoon of Dark Troopers.

It sounded like something Din would do, and your regard for the prickly princess grew as she eventually relented and allowed her vassal to treat her wounds.

You did your best to keep your attention otherwise occupied, to give the two Mandalorians their privacy as much as you could, but even so, Bo-Katan’s bitterness was a tangible thing, rolling off of her in waves and choking the bridge with tension. From the stiffness in his shoulders, from the way a muscle in his jaw clenched and feathered beneath his stubbly beard, you knew Din could feel it, too, and you rested a casual hand on his forearm in support. He hadn’t intended to usurp the Darksaber from his ally – no one could have witnessed the almost-desperate way he had attempted over and over to give it to her and questioned that. You resolved to ask him later, when you were alone, what he planned to do with the sword now that it was in his possession. For now, you hoped that he would not take her black mood too personally.

Once you were certain that all of the loose ends on the cruiser had been tied up, you volunteered to send a subspace transmission to Boba Fett on the Firespray. “Mission complete. No casualties. Wait another 14 standard hours for rendezvous to avoid New Republic prisoner transport.”

You admittedly didn’t know much about Boba’s past, but you had gathered enough to know that having him here at the same time as the New Republic authorities would be asking for trouble. The last thing you needed was for your friend (and your ride off this ship) to be detained for questioning.

As the hour grew later and your boarding party began to tire, you collectively agreed upon a guard schedule for the cargo bay before commandeering a block of now-abandoned crew quarters. Cara had slotted Din into the last shift before he could volunteer otherwise, giving him a hard look when he attempted to protest, and you were grateful to her for it. Without the anonymity of his helmet to hide behind, the heavy weight of exhaustion was clearly visible in his eyes. Dark, dull, and listless, present but only barely, with deep creases in the corners. The man needed rest, whether he was willing to admit it or not.

When he selected a room for himself, you did not question whether you should join him; you followed him in wordlessly. You needed to be close to him, and you refused to allow him to grieve alone again.

The room was small, spartan, and completely spotless, bearing little evidence of the Imperial officer who just this morning would have called this place home. A double bed with sleek gray sheets and a matching blanket took up most of the space, its surface flawlessly smooth, its corners neat and squared in a fashion that screamed military conditioning. A long, six-drawered, black dresser spanned the far wall, and on its surface, the only personal effects visible were a tidy stack of datapads, a small vanity mirror on a sleek, white mount, and a well-loved pack of sabacc cards. A lone chair sat in the corner, a pair of black leather boots tucked neatly under it, and another door along the starboard wall stood open to reveal a dark, unlit refresher.

“A double bed,” you remarked, a forced lightness coloring your tone as you offered Din a tight smile. “What are we going to do with all that space?”

You thought you might have seen a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth at that, but it failed to stretch into a full grin. Instead, the silence returned, thick and oppressive. The weight of the day – the battle, the victory, the loss – pressed in closely all around you, leaving a bone-deep kind of weariness in its wake. You felt wrung out, raw and depleted in a way you had never experienced, and you knew that if you were feeling it this deeply, the man before you had to be nearly dead on his feet.

And yet his face – his excruciatingly handsome face, already so precious to you despite seeing it for the first time today – remained nearly impassive, as it had for the last several hours. If you had not had so many months of experience reading his body language, you might have thought him detached, indifferent, but you knew him better than that by now. The heaviness in his limbs, the tension in his shoulders, the struggle to look anywhere other than the deck in front of him, the way he could not seem to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds without wrenching himself away…

Din Djarin was exhausted, and he was very, very sad.

Slowly, cautiously, you closed the distance between you, brought both of your hands up to rest on the cool surface of his breastplate, and murmured, “It’s just you and me now.”

The bounty hunter sighed, the sound tremulous and deep, but still he did not look at you. His gaze instead remained on the floor between you, his heavy brow casting his dark eyes in shadow.

“What do you need, ner kar’ta?” you asked him. Your thumbs traced the folds of his cape, the high collar of his flight suit. “What can I do?”

He shook his head and brought one of his gloved hands to cover both of yours. “There is nothing to be done,” he rasped, voice hoarse and low from disuse. He had hardly spoken in hours, and you couldn’t help but feel that his words sounded a bit broken, a bit hollow inside. They made your heart clench in your chest. “Though… I would keep you close. If…that’s all right.”

The pressure around your heart increased, the pain of his words a physical thing, and you felt tears spring unbidden to the corners of your eyes. You had not thought you had any more to give, but apparently, you were wrong.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere,” you replied wetly.

After what felt like several minutes of simply standing there, providing taciturn support through the touch of your hands, Din finally flicked his gaze up to meet yours. His eyes shone in the dim lighting, deep and nearly black with grief. “And what about you, cyare? What do you need?”

The faintest smile lifted the corner of your lips, knowing it wouldn’t reach your eyes. “A shower.”

That startled a breath of a laugh out him, and he shook his head at you with fondness. “I think we can make that happen. Anything else?”

Slipping your hands out from under his, you slid them up to his cheeks and cradled his face in your palms. “Just you, Din. I just need you.”

“You have me.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, and though the move was familiar, you would be lying if you said the absence of cold, uncompromising beskar against your skin wasn’t a little jarring. “Ratiin. Always.”

With a bit of convincing, you managed to coax Din into the attached refresher with you, the two of you crowding close under the vibrations of the sonic shower in a way that achingly reminded you of that night on the Razor Crest. It may only have been a handful of weeks ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since that moment. So much had happened in the intervening days, and although the memory of that night would glow warm and bright in your heart for the rest of your life, you couldn’t help but mourn that it had been tainted a bit, colored bittersweet with the knowledge that your life would never again look as it had that night.

Unlike then, however, as you ran your fingers over each other’s bodies or threaded them through each other’s hair, there was no heat to your touch. There was only care. And when you crawled into bed and tucked yourself against his side, the warmth of his bare skin against yours did not inflame but rather soothed. Almost instantly, your eyelids began to droop, the comfort of his closeness and the weight of the blankets tucked securely around you making your exhaustion impossible to ignore.

“Sleep now,” Din murmured into the top of your head. His breath was warm against your hairline, his nose buried your hair, and you smiled weakly at the feeling of his stubbly beard catching against the strands.

“Mm. Love you.”

The soft, warm pressure of a tender kiss against your forehead was the last thing you registered before drifting off, and the sleep that claimed you was deep and dreamless.

---

When you finally woke, you were alone in a rapidly cooling bed, the sheets beside you just barely clinging to the heat of your bounty hunter’s body. Half-conscious and bleary-eyed, you drew yourself up onto your elbows and blinked into the dimness.

“Din?” you called softly. Your voice scratched and grated against your own ears, your throat painfully dry from sleep.

The room beyond your bed remained mostly dark with only the faintest glow of cool white baseboard lighting outlining the edges of the cabin, but it was enough to see him there – sitting in that corner chair, fastening his boots. He was fully dressed again, the flawless beskar of his armor gleaming in the low light.

“‘S all right, cyar’ika,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It’s my guard shift. Go back to sleep.”

Something about his voice sounded off – a mechanical quality to it that had you frowning at him as your sleep-fogged mind struggled to keep up.

Rubbing your eyes roughly with the heel of your hand, you asked, “You sleep at all?”

The broad outline of his pauldroned shoulders shrugged, the movement only barely visible in the dark. “A bit. More than I expected.”

“That’s good.” You melted back against the pillows then, drawing the blankets up to your chin. “Be safe, okay? Meet you on the bridge later?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.” Again, that odd, mechanical timbre colored his words, but sleep was tugging at the edges of your consciousness once again, the lure of the mattress and body-warm covers too powerful to fight against, and so you did not question it. Your eyes were closed again before the door into the corridor hissed open, before Din stepped through it and it shut behind him.

It wasn’t until you woke again some time later and recalled the brief conversation that you were able to put the pieces together. His voice, the strange, cool, staticky tone that had confused you in the darkness. It was his vocoder.

Din had put his helmet back on.

---

The promised escort arrived right on time around midmorning that day, the two X-wings landing in the launch bay while the prisoner transport docked against the cruiser’s airlock. As the only member of the party who was explicitly friendly with the New Republic, Marshal Dune took point in coordinating the transfer of the Imperials, all of whom had returned to consciousness overnight only to find themselves bound at the hands and feet. Once all of the formalities were taken care of, there was little for Din to do other than observe as the prisoners’ identities were logged one-by-one in the New Republic register, their injuries were catalogued, and they were escorted onto the transport vessel either by a guard or by a field medic.

He didn’t even really need to be there, he knew; Cara was more than capable of managing such a task on her own. He could have taken his leave after this guard shift ended, could have blown off some steam in the ship’s armory with a little target practice or sought out the mess hall to see what he could scavenge for your breakfast. However, he could not seem to shake the feeling that he needed to be present for this. Or, more accurately, for one prisoner transfer in particular.

Moff Gideon had been kept away from the rest of his crew overnight, Cara choosing to house him in isolation in the same brig where Din had found Grogu the day before. She had stayed awake all night guarding his door, unwilling to trust his keeping to anyone but herself, and although he could tell from the dark smudges under her eyes that the fatigue was starting to get to her, the Mandalorian was immensely grateful for her diligence. Had such a capture happened on another day, he would have insisted on watching over the moff himself.

As it was, he had been in no fit state to be trusted with such a responsibility. How could he? Grogu was gone once again, this time likely for good. And once again, Din had defied his Creed in the name of a boy who was not truly his ad, who now never would be.

The first time – during his infiltration of the Imperial base on Morak with Mayfeld – had been out of necessity. Or at least, it had been easy to tell himself that he didn’t have a choice; his options had been either to allow his face to be scanned by the terminal or to give up, to retreat back to Fett’s Firespray empty-handed with no other way of locating Gideon’s light cruiser. That had been an unacceptable alternative. If pressed, Din might even have made the argument that allowing Grogu to be taken into the hands of the Empire without exhausting every possible avenue of rescuing him would have been a more egregious violation of the Creed, as it would have involved the harm of a foundling child in his care.

To a Mandalorian, there was nothing more important than the well-being of a child. Not even a buy’ce.

But this time… This time, he had had a choice, and still he had chosen to remove his helmet. Try as he might, the bounty hunter could not refuse Grogu’s soft, vulnerable, earnest eyes as he had peered up into his visor. The plea in those eyes could not have been any more apparent had he spoken the words aloud in perfect Basic. And when he had reached out his tiny hand and patted Din’s beskar cheek…

Well.

The Mandalorian felt the backs of his eyes begin to sting at the memory, and he blinked rapidly to banish the swell of emotion. What was done was done. It would not serve him or the child to dwell on it any longer than he already had, and the number of tears he had already shed was more than enough. Any more, and he did not think he could bear the shame. What was most important was that he had completed the quest set upon him by the naur’alor – he had cared for Grogu like he was his own, and he had found a Jedi to train him. He had done the right thing.

And that, perhaps, was the root of it all. Even in his guilt and his shame, even in his grief and his longing, he could not help but feel – to the very core of his being – that he had done the right thing in agreeing to remove his helmet. The joy and the recognition on the boy’s face, the warmth of his little three-clawed hand on his skin, the opportunity to look the mysterious Jedi stranger in the eye with his own eyes before he had handed his son over to him. All of these things had been priceless experiences, things he couldn’t regret even if he knew he should.

And you! Your sweet face when you had seen him for the first time, the hungry, urgent way your gaze had traced over his features, cataloguing each and every detail even as you offered him back his helmet. It had been uncomfortable to be observed so closely, to be studied so intently, and yet nothing about it had felt wrong or immoral. On the contrary, he had wanted you to see him, to know him in that way. It had felt right.

How could it have been, though, if it was in direct contradiction to the Creed? The Creed was his life, his moral center, the principle around which he had structured his entire existence. Breaking it ought to have been painful, not…satisfying.

Before he could spend any more time contemplating it, however, two of the New Republic prison guards appeared at the end of the corridor, a bruised and limping Moff Gideon between them. Shoving the riot of thoughts and emotions to the back of his mind for the moment, Din drew himself up to his full height and dropped his hand to hover over the grip of his blaster.

The older man looked a bit worse for the wear after his night spent in the brig, his normally flawless uniform rumpled, his sleek hair disheveled. He had a great black bruise forming across his jaw from the butt of Marshal Dune’s blaster rifle, and dried blood clung to corners of his lips. However, in spite of his haggard appearance, there was no pain or weariness or look of defeat in his dark eyes. Rather, he seemed almost eerily calm, as though the night in solitary confinement had centered him. Had Din not been able to see the binder cuffs glowing around his wrists so clearly, he would have questioned whether the man understood that he was being taken into custody. He looked entirely too…unbothered for a man who was bound for a war tribunal that would almost assuredly find him guilty.

Not that it mattered, Din supposed. Still, something about his nonchalance rankled. The man would be lucky to ever see the light of day again; what right did he have to feel so…confident?

---

By the time you managed to drag yourself out of bed and make your way to the bridge, the prisoner transfer had concluded, and the New Republic forces had departed with the surviving Imperials in tow. You were surprised to find a bundle of credits in a sleek, black bag waiting for you there – more than you had ever seen in your life, to the point where you felt a bit faint at the idea of counting them all. Apparently, because you had been part of the crew responsible for the capture of Moff Gideon and his crew, you were due a cut of the reward money from the New Republic government. This was news to you, as you certainly hadn’t gone into this task with the expectation of any payment, but given that all of your meager possessions had been destroyed with the Razor Crest, you weren’t in any position to decline.

Tossing the bag playfully into the air, you quipped, “Does this make me a bounty hunter now?” You waggled your eyebrows at Din, who offered you a light, crackling scoff through his vocoder.

“Think you have to complete at least one more job before you could be called a professional, cyar’ika,” he replied easily. “Though Moff Gideon is quite the notch in your belt should you decide to take it on full time.”

Cara Dune, as it turned out, had received a field commendation from the prison transport vessel’s captain for the victory, which she took out of a pouch on her utility belt to show you at your request. A small, gold pin featuring the sigil of the New Republic gleamed back at you from her black leather palm.

“The captain said he’d be in touch again,” she admitted, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Said they could use more people like me on the front lines. Hunting down Imperial remnants. Rooting them out.”

You raised your eyebrows at that. “That sounds like a big deal. You had said you were starting to feel a little…well, bored on Nevarro. If they called you up, do you think you would go?”

“I don’t know.” She rolled the little pin around in her grasp as you watched, her dark brows cinched in thought. “Nevarro’s great. And Karga’s been good to me.”

“True, but you said it yourself. You’ve never been one to stay in one place for too long.”

Cara glanced up at you through thick lashes, cracking a wry smile. “You’re not wrong.”

The Firespray arrived precisely when you had instructed, the worn exterior of the vessel a sight for sore eyes after the events of the prior day. You told Boba Fett so when he hailed the cruiser, to which he chuckled gruffly and replied, “It’s good to hear everyone is still in one piece. I take it you have retrieved the child?”

You swallowed heavily and spared a glance toward Din, who met your gaze only briefly before looking out the viewport instead. “…we did,” you confessed after a beat of hesitation. “But he won’t be leaving with us. It’s a long story. We can catch you up once we’re back on board.”

For a moment, dull, hollow silence echoed across the connection – the sound of an open comm line with no voices to fill the space. Thankfully, however, it did not take long for Boba to recover from your revelation. “Understood. I’ll save my questions for the return journey to Nevarro then. If you all are ready to depart, I will prepare for docking.”

“Ready on our end,” you confirmed. “Feel free to proceed.”

As the distant thud of connecting airlocks rumbled through the deck plating, all but Bo-Katan and Koska prepared to disembark. Weapons were gathered, stolen foodstuffs from the mess hall were packed away in bags Fennec had liberated from the ship’s stores, and goodbyes were said. The two Mandalorian women would be keeping custody of the light cruiser, as had been your agreement, though as each of them offered you a cool, formal nod, you could not help but wonder how long the two of them would continue to travel together after this.

The dynamic between them had been openly strained since the moment the Jedi took his leave, taking their already stiff and stoic way of interacting and ratcheting it up to a degree that you could only call frigid. Bo-Katan had become almost unrecognizably surly and standoffish in the face of the loss of the Darksaber, while every offer of service and support from her vassal appeared reluctantly, resentfully given. It was difficult for you to discern which of them was the true source of the brittle tension – whether Bo-Katan was driving Koska away in her resentment of her circumstances, or if Koska was already beginning to detach herself from the princess now that it seemed certain that she would never be Mand’alor.

Either way, you supposed it was none of your business for now. Perhaps your paths would cross again one day, but until then, they had held up their end of the bargain, as had you and Din. Until he said otherwise, the complexities of Mandalorian politics were not your concern.

Your departure was quick after that, the four of you making your way onto the Firespray as efficiently as you could manage through the narrow airlock. The scent of the familiar ship filled your senses – durasteel, dust, and caf with an undertone of something distinctly masculine, and you could not help but sigh in relief as you felt the tense muscles in your shoulders loosen almost immediately. You weren’t certain at what point over the last few weeks Boba’s ship had begun to feel like a safe haven, but it had, and after spending the last standard rotation “behind enemy lines,” as it were, your relief at being back was palpable.

Of course, you hadn’t expected you would return without Grogu. His absence was like a physical thing, a hole in your heart and an emptiness in your arms that you knew would not fade for a long while.

“Feel free to settle in,” Fennec said. “I’ll be in the cockpit catching Boba up while we get into hyperspace. Should be a pretty short jump – no more than a day or two.”

You, Din, and Cara all nodded your acknowledgement before making your way over to the ship’s central ladder. You dropped off the bags of supplies you had taken from the light cruiser in the common area on your way down, and without needing to say anything, you and Din ducked into the bounty cell you had claimed as your own the last time you were on the Firespray, while Cara continued down the ladder to her own cell.

It was the first time you had been alone with the bounty hunter since the night before, you realized. Vague, sleep-clouded memories of his departure from your shared quarters this morning hung in the back of your mind, but the last time the two of you had truly spoken, you both had been raw and wrung out, and Din…

Well. Din had been helmetless.

You weren’t certain whether you had expected him to remain helmetless, but the fact that he had turned down your offer to put it back on right after Grogu left had made you wonder…

Choosing to take advantage of your momentary solitude, you closed the cell door behind you. If he was ever going to start giving you some insight into the innerworkings of his mind, you supposed now was as good a time as any.

---

Hours later found the Firespray deep in hyperspace and you wide awake in your bunk, rolled up onto your side with Din tucked in close behind you. A heavy arm draped around your waist kept your back pressed firmly against his chest, his grip preventing you from rolling off the edge of the narrow bed onto the unforgiving deck below you. You didn’t know how the two of you had spent so many nights sleeping like this on your journey to find Moff Gideon’s vessel; even after one night in a two-person bed, you felt as though you had been spoiled for space. Now, you felt more like a tightly-packed tin of rations; one wrong move, and you would burst from the edge of the mattress and never be able to pack yourself away again in the same way.

Your attempt at discussing the reappearance of his helmet had gone nowhere, the Mandalorian brushing off your inquiries with gentle but firm rebuttals. Removing his helmet had been in defiance of his Creed, he had insisted. Mandalorians kept their helmets on at all times in front of others. Yesterday had been an exception, an anomaly. That was all there was to it.

Never mind the points you brought up about Bo-Katan and Koska. Never mind your reminders of how every person aboard this ship had now seen his face other than Boba Fett, and not for a brief moment, but for hours and hours. Never mind your insistence that he had done nothing wrong, that he didn’t need to make up for allowing himself a few seconds of connection with the boy who had become like a son to him. All of it had fallen on deaf ears, and although he had been kind and patient with you throughout the discussion, his stubbornness hadn’t abated. He hadn’t budged an inch.

You weren’t sure how long this would be the case, but one thing was clear; the helmet was back, and the chances of you catching a glimpse of the bounty hunter’s handsome face again any time soon were slim.

Releasing a soft sigh, you twisted a bit in Din’s grip, looking back over your shoulder to trace the impassive beskar surface with your gaze. He was handsome even with the helmet, you knew; it was how you had fallen in love with him and how he would always appear in your mind when you closed your eyes and thought of him. Only days ago, you had expected to go the rest of your life having never seen his true face. You could go back to that, you thought. Or at least, you could try.

What you couldn’t do was sit idly by while Din compromised his needs and his desires for the sake of some ambiguous religious statute that you could tell he was already beginning to question. You had always respected his beliefs, but never at the expense of his own happiness.

Your mind abuzz with your thoughts, you felt – perhaps for the first time – restless in your Mandalorian’s arms. You wouldn’t be getting any sleep any time soon; that much was certain. Gently, with all the stealth you could muster in the darkness, you wrapped your fingers around Din’s wrist and lifted his arm from around your body. He stirred as you slipped out of bed, a heavy sigh rasping through his vocoder, but thankfully, he settled again quickly, and you were able to sneak out of the bounty cell without waking him.

You made your way up the ship’s central ladder as quietly as you could manage, your way lit only by dim runner lights that dotted the edge of the shaft. When you arrived in the common area, you almost didn’t notice the shadowed outline of Boba Fett’s broad form sitting at the little mess table.

“Ah, welcome,” he murmured gruffly, offering you a nod of acknowledgement. “Sleep eluding you, little one?”

He wore no armor, you realized as you approached, his black linen nightshirt and loose, billowy pants a sharp contrast to his usual sage green beskar. The light of a single lamp illuminated his scarred face, the golden sheen of it reflecting warmly off the smooth skin of his bald head, and he had a steaming durasteel mug cradled in both hands.

“You could say that, yeah,” you replied, the corner of your mouth tugging into a small smile. “You?”

He nodded. “Mm. You’re welcome to a cup of tea, if you would like.” Gesturing toward the kettle keeping warm on the cooktop burner behind him, he continued, “I find it helps settle the nerves.”

“Thank you.” With practiced familiarity, you retrieved yourself a mug that matched Boba’s and proceeded to pour yourself a measure of the fragrant, bitter liquid. “So what’s got you up this time of night?”

The older man shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of his drink. “Even a well-disciplined mind is vulnerable in sleep. Old memories one might prefer to leave in the past can make themselves…difficult to ignore.”

Your smile widened, the expression taking on a wry tinge as you slipped into the rusty, well-worn chair opposite him and settled your cup on the table before you. “I can relate to that,” you mused.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each of you absorbed in your own thoughts. The tea he had brewed was a strong one, bracing and soothing in equal measure as you let it float over your tongue, and absently you wondered whether he might share with you its varietal and planet of origin before you reached Nevarro so you might seek some out for yourself. Primarily, however, you found yourself studying him in the low light. This was another Mandalorian who chose to remove his helmet, who chose to allow others to see his face. He seemed more comfortable with it on, perhaps, but he did not shy away from taking it off when it made sense to do so.

You could not help but wonder why that was, and the question was out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “Could I ask you a…personal question?”

Boba arched his eyebrow at you curiously. “You may try. Though I make no promises that I will answer.”

“Fair enough,” you agreed with a grin. “It’s just that… I was curious about your helmet.”

“What of my helmet?”

“You take it off. Regularly.”

He inclined his head at you in agreement. “I do, indeed. Speak plainly with me, little one. What is your question?”

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you voiced the thing you had been itching to ask him since the day you met, since the moment you saw him dressed in the weathered green armor that had once lived in armaments storage on the Razor Crest. “Do you consider yourself Mandalorian?”

Your words hung in the air for a beat, then another, and you swallowed nervously against the pressure of the growing silence between you.

“Ah,” he finally sighed, voice low and rasping. “That is a complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You see, my father was Mandalorian – he, like your companion, was a foundling, taken in as a child and raised among them,” he explained thoughtfully.

You heard the words he did not say just as clearly as the words he did. “But not you?” you pressed.

Boba seemed to hesitate at that, shifting in his seat and weighing his words carefully. “The circumstances of my birth were…unique,” he eventually confessed. “I was raised by my father on a planet called Kamino. The teachings and values of the Mandalorian culture were certainly a part of my upbringing, but I was still a boy when my father’s life was cut short. I made my own way in the galaxy after that.”

You felt your eyebrows raise in sympathy at the revelation. “That sounds lonely.”

Cocking his head, the man across the table took a moment to study you, his flint-dark eyes narrowing ever-so slightly as though puzzled by your response. “It’s no easy thing, to forge a path for yourself without a tribe.”

You nodded. Again, his sentiments felt familiar to you. As a child, you had had a tribe of sorts. Your father, your mother, the other children in your little community on Chardaan.

Before the shipyards. Before Orron Halcard.

“What is it that troubles you?”

You glanced up at Boba, your fingers twisting anxiously around your mug as you took another thoughtful sip of tea. “I’m worried about my…companion,” you admitted after a heavy swallow. “He’s struggling. With being Mandalorian, with what that means. I hoped maybe understanding you a bit better might…help me help him.”

Dark eyes softening at that, you watched as a rare smile quirked the corners of his lips. “You have a kind heart, little one, but I fear my story may create more questions than answers.”

You nodded, returning your gaze to the dark liquid in your cup, watching the whisps of steam twist and rise into the air. You had feared as much.

“What I can tell you,” he continued abruptly, pulling you back out of your thoughts, “is that from the day I drew my first breath, there were people who believed they had a right to tell me who I was. The genetic engineers on Kamino told me that I was a product – payment in exchange for the services of my father. The other children who shared my face told me I was an aberration, an abomination with a faulty genetic code and no true purpose in the universe. The bounty hunters who took me in after the death of my father could not seem to make up their minds about me – to some, I was a prodigy, to others a burden.”

You listened with rapt attention, watching as Boba’s strong, wise face morphed into something fiery, something fierce.

“The Republic, the Separatists, even the Empire all believed that they had the measure of me. But no one has that right,” he hissed emphatically. “I had to decide for myself who I was. What do I believe? What do I value? What do I want? I must be the one to make those choices if I wish to control my own destiny. Perhaps the time has come for your companion to ask himself those questions, to choose for himself who he is and what that means to him.”

Slowly, softly, you smiled at the older man and nodded your agreement. “I want that for him. Very much.”

“Then you have already given him all the support he needs.”

With those words, so confidently and simply spoken, a wave of calm washed over you the likes of which you hadn’t felt since your last night on Nevarro – Din tucked in by your side, Grogu between you, the chattering of an old holovid serial rattling in the background as you dozed together. It was a confidence, a sense of rightness that you had thought had abandoned you the day you landed on Tython, and the relief you felt at its return was staggering.

Boba was right. All you had to do was be there for Din – allow him to ask the questions he needed to ask, encourage him to seek his own answers, and support him whatever his choice. Because as long as it was his choice, it would be the right one. You loved him enough to want that for him. You loved him enough to be his anchor while he worked it out on his own.

Swallowing the final dregs of tea from the bottom of your mug, you rose to your feet and – before you could question it – allowed one of your hands to rest on the older man’s shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze through his linen nightshirt. “Thank you for the tea,” you murmured quietly. “I hope you’re able to get some sleep.”

Through the dimness, he bowed his head to you, eyes flashing with something warm and almost fond. “The same to you, little one. I’ll see you in the morning.”

---

Your retreat back to your bunk was a quick one, your heart and mind feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The absence of Grogu still ached, but it felt somehow more manageable; not necessarily easier to bear in that moment, but there was the promise of a day when the loss of him would feel less sharp, when the good memories and the love of him would be greater than the pain of his departure. And as for Din, you were confident that he would find his way. He was the strongest person you knew, cunning and resilient and stubborn to a fault. If anyone could work his way through the mess that he had found himself in over the last several weeks, you knew it would be him. Like Boba had said, all you needed to do was be there for him while he did it. Everything else would fall into place as it was meant to.

You were silent and cautious as you slipped back into your bounty cell. The heavy durasteel door proved easier than you expected to close gently, and with a hand braced against the wall, you shuffled out of your boots and crossed the floor in stocking feet. Din’s beskar armor gleamed in the darkness, and you smiled to find him precisely where you had left him – back pressed against the bulkhead, arm outstretched as though to embrace you, helmet carving a deep indent in the single, thin pillow you shared between you.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you eagerly slipped back under his arm, this time pressing chest-to-chest along the front of his body. His grip on you tightened reflexively, drawing you even closer as you tucked your head under his chin and buried your face in the folds of his cape. The chill of his breastplate nipped at your skin, but you paid it no heed. Instead, you simply dropped a tender kiss to the little geometric pattern right in the center and allowed your eyes to drift closed.

Your parents were gone. The Razor Crest was gone. Grogu was gone. But Din remained. And as long as you were together, you did not need to have all of the answers. It was enough to know that you had each other and that together, there was no obstacle you could not overcome. He was your home now, and you were his.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” you whispered. Your breath fogged up the surface of his armor, that bit at the center shining with moisture. It felt significant somehow, as though you were speaking directly to his heart even as he slept. “I will know you forever, Din Djarin. I love you.”

---

Mando'a Translations:

ner kar'ta - my heart ratiin - always cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling buy'ce - helmet naur'alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer. ad - child, gender neutral Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum - I love you, literally "I will know you forever"

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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writeforfandoms · 1 month ago

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Shatter Me 18

Find the series masterlist

Well. Here we are. Two more chapters to go after this. And then the interlude, and then part 2.

The rescue efforts continue. You mostly observe.

Warnings: Swearing, canon typical violence, feelings of inadequacy, Mech's continuing issues.

Word count: 1.8k

Out of the way was a lot easier to do on a ship that wasn’t full up. Din, Cara, Fennec, and some newcomer named Mayfeld had taken the available seats, leaving you up with Boba Fett. And, maker, part of you was still reeling. Boba Fett. Even you had heard stories about him.

The point was, they were plotting, and you were… extraneous. You knew the ship was headed to a planet called Morak. You knew they were planning something dangerous, something to help them find the kid. To find Grogu.

Beyond that, you didn’t know anything.

“Alright there, little one?”

The rough voice of Boba Fett jerked you out of your own thoughts, and you blinked a few times. The green helmet was still facing forward, but you knew he was paying attention. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He nodded once and didn’t say anything more, but you had a feeling he didn’t stop paying attention. Which made sense. He had been a bounty hunter, he probably knew when people were trouble.

And you counted as trouble now. You almost laughed at the thought.

If nothing else, your time with Din Djarin had made you an accessory to an interesting person.

The ship landed, and the ramp groaned a little as it lowered. Something to look at, maybe. A quick fix, if you were lucky. Boba Fett passed you on his way down to conference with the others, and you sat for a moment longer.

Until Din poked his head up, tapping gently on the side of your seat to get your attention. “We need to go take a look at what we’re dealing with here,” he murmured.

“Go,” you agreed quietly. “I’ll take a look at a couple things on the ship.”

He hesitated for a moment, unmoving, visor focused on you. Then he nodded, just once, and vanished from sight.

You waited until you’d heard them leave to slide down and start poking around. The ramp was first - it would be an easy fix, and fortunately not even a lengthy one. But you didn’t stop there, doing just as you’d told Din. You poked around the ship to see what else needed maintenance. (The amount of sand in the nooks and crannies reminded you of working in Peli’s hanger, made your heart ache.)

The engines could do with a tune up, and the rotation mechanisms needed a bit of help, but nothing dire.

You did startle when Boba Fett came back onto the ship, pausing to look at you.

"Checking for repairs," you told him quietly, shoulders hiking up a little. "I'm a mechanic."

He nodded once. "You've got an hour," was all he said before heading up into the cockpit.

An hour was plenty of time to get the ramp fixed. Which you did. And then you worked on blowing out some of the sand from the landing gear.

“On or off, make your choice now.” Boba Fett’s voice came from the front, carrying to you easily enough.

You knew enough of the plan to know that things were going to be a bit rough. As much as you wanted to be of help, as you wanted to see Din and see if he’d gotten what he needed to find Grogu… you chose off. You’d be no good in the ship, and you had no desire to sit through another firefight.

You stayed on the ground, finding a good spot to sit and wait. The dense forest covered up much of the noise, only a few explosions making it through. A loud one followed by a burst of bright blue light made you look up, shielding your gaze against the sunlight and the blue light from the explosion.

Hopefully that had been on your end, and not theirs.

The sound of engines approaching was familiar, and you relaxed. That little whine was definitely Boba Fett’s ship. You listened, head tipping, waiting for the noise to get closer before you stood. The ship sounded like it was landing not far away. Good.

It took moments to walk to the ship, and you stood back, away from the exit. More rustling of leaves made you look over to see Cara and Fennec approaching. So, no trouble on their end. Sounded like things had gone about as well as could be expected. The ramp lowered, already sounding better.

“Well, looks like it’s back to the scrap heap,” Mayfeld said as he and Din walked off the ship. You stood to the side, watching, separate from the group. Fennec raised one eyebrow at you as she passed but didn’t ask, footfalls near-silent as she walked up the ramp.

“Thank you for helping,” Din told Mayfeld, helmet gleaming in the sun.

“Yeah. Uh. Good luck getting your kid back.” Mayfeld spoke quietly, more sincerely. You were rather surprised, given how he’d acted before. “Alright, officer. Take me back.” A sort of resigned humor crept into his tone as he put his hands together in front of him.

Silence held for a moment, and your lips twitched. You had an idea what was coming.

“That was some nice shooting back there,” Cara said.

“Oh, you saw that? Yeah, that, uh… that wasn’t part of the plan.” Mayfeld looked between Cara and Din, uncertain but not afraid. “Just… getting some stuff off my chest.”

“You know, it’s too bad Mayfeld didn’t make it out alive back there,” Cara said, turning to Din. From your spot, you could see the humor in her face.

“Yeah. Too bad.” Din sounded even dryer than normal, and you stifled a smile. He was kind of a terrible liar most of the time.

“What are you talking about?” Mayfeld looked confused, looking between them, weight shifting uneasily. He hadn’t caught on yet. You were almost tempted to tell him. Almost.

“Looked to me like prisoner number 34667 died in the refinery explosion on Morak,” Cara said, still looking at Din, refusing to look at Mayfeld. You put your hand to your lips to hide your smile.

“Does that–does that mean I can go? Huh?” Mayfeld finally caught on, hands out, slowly shifting away from the two. “‘Cause I will.”

Din jerked his head, a familiar motion that made your heart swell. No malice, no anger. Just a silent motion telling Mayfeld to go.

Mayfeld took a few steps away before he turned and looked back one more time. Cara had finally turned to watch him go, and nodded once. “Alright,” Mayfeld muttered to himself before turning back around and leaving. This time, he didn’t look back.

You had very little idea of what had happened out there, but it must have been enough to convince Cara and Din to let him go. That was enough for you.

Besides, you’d likely never see Mayfeld again, and you were just fine with that.

“You get the coordinates on Moff Gideon?” Cara asked, humor gone now. Your ears perked up.

“We did.”

“What’s our next move?”

Din was silent for a few moments before he nodded towards the ship. Cara glanced at you before she nodded, taking long strides up and into the ship.

“Come on,” Din said to you, finally turning to look at you. It was impossible to tell with his helmet on, but you thought he’d relaxed a little. “We have planning to do.”

“I won’t be much help,” you murmured, though you didn’t protest, moving closer to him.

“You’re part of this, too,” he insisted stubbornly. “I won’t leave you out of this.”

You ducked your head, smiling at the toes of your boots for a moment. How like Din. You could hardly believe now how scared you had been of him in the beginning. “Okay,” you agreed. Din motioned you up first, and you acquiesced, walking up the ramp into the interior of the ship again.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cara asked, deceptively relaxed.

“We’ll need more help,” Din said, his hand briefly touching the back of your arm as he stepped up next to you, and then past you. “But first, I need to send a message.”

The others gave him space to record, although he didn’t remove any of his armor. You watched from the side, careful to stay out of the way, as he set up the recording.

“Moff Gideon,” he said, and you startled. There was a banked anger in his tone, anger that quickly turned to cold violence. “You have something I want. You may think you have some idea what you are in possession of, but you do not. Soon, he will be back with me. He means more to me than you will ever know.”

A chill ran down your spine, and you swallowed. That… should not affect you so. It shouldn’t.

But it wasn’t fear that made your heart beat faster in your chest, or your breath catch in your throat.

“We’ll need more than just coordinates,” Boba Fett rumbled once Din was back in the main hold.

“I know some people who will help.” Din didn’t sound concerned. If anything, he sounded eager. Ready to go.

Not that you could blame him for that. You itched to have Grogu back, to know he was safe.

“Where do we start?” Cara asked this time, one hip leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

“Pershing,” Din answered, holding up the data stick. “If we get him, we can get to Moff Gideon.”

Fett held out one hand, taking the data stick and plugging it into the nearest console. The star chart that popped up was unfamiliar to you, but that meant very little. You’d never spent much time studying those, much more interested in things you could get your hands on (and subsequently take apart). The others, however, seemed to understand it better, talking about interception points and security.

You just waited, watching them figure out what they’d do. It was fascinating to watch, especially since everyone but Din forgot you existed. He glanced back at you every so often, as if to check if you really were still there.

You were, every time. You didn’t move. Just watched.

It felt… almost familiar. Almost like things you tried to keep buried. But not quite. You were more comfortable here, and certainly safer.

The legality of the meeting was most certainly in question, but if that was the worst of it? You were much better off here than you were in your memories.

You smiled next time Din looked back at you. You could have imagined it, but you thought you saw the line of his shoulders relax.

#shatter me #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #f!reader

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burnwater13 · 24 days ago

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Image shows Fennec Shand, Din Djarin, and Boba Fett standing in the bombed out shell of Garsa Fwip's Sanctuary in Mos Espa. Caption reads: This is my city. These are my people. I will not abandon them. - Boba Fett Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu appreciated that the Daimyo was concerned about the citizens of Mos Espa and by extension all the people on Tatooine. He seemed to understand that the people of that planet were independent, but had a hard time doing anything but the work it took to live from one day to the next. Someone was going to have to drive the syndicates off the planet and if he was that someone, well fine. He had good reasons to do it and no good reasons not to do it. Grogu supposed that was part of his nature as a Mandalorian.

Grogu would have thought that Cad Bane also understood that. He might have been Boba Fett’s mentor for some period of time (the Daimyo had told Grogu all about that) but you didn’t just absorb all the behaviors and knowledge from your mentors. Sometimes you barely picked up any of their behaviors at all. Every Jedi Master at the Temple on Coruscant had tried to improve Ian’s behaviors, but Grogu’s friend had been particularly resistant to that sort of influence, a very odd thing for a Jedi youngling. If that was the case for a Jedi youngling, Grogu couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to influence a Mandalorian youngling when you didn’t have the whole weight of Mandalore and the Creed to help you.

He could just imagine the young Boba Fett, quiet, serious, waiting to carry out whatever orders his dad had given him. Asking questions and paying attention because that’s what Mandalorian younglings were supposed to do, but only for other Mandalorians. Then a guy like Cad Bane shows up and tries to order him around and its simply chaos. Boba Fett didn’t learn by being talked at, any more than Ian had. He learned by doing things. Of course learning that way was probably a lot more physically painful, but it was undoubtedly effective if you survived.

Grogu thought about one of the last times he had seen Ian. They had both managed to sneak into the hanger where all the starships (which were mostly small) were managed and maintained and performed an assessment of them. During their assessment, it became very clear to Grogu that his criteria for a ship and Ian’s criteria for a ship were very different. Grogu liked the ships that had large, private privies, multiple seats on the bridge, and a full galley. Since he could sleep in a hammock without much effort, he hadn’t really cared about cabins, storage, weapons, or sensor arrays. Ian, of course, was just the opposite. He wanted small nimble craft with impressive armaments, top of the line sensors, and preferably just a few hidden compartments that made hiding stuff easy.

That meant that Ian liked the ship that Anakin Skywalker often used, while Grogu was a much bigger fan of Master Yoda’s ship. They both agreed that in a pinch, if absolutely necessary, they could deal with the ship Master Kenobi used. It met a few, but not all, of each of their requirements, but had the one benefit of being properly maintained at all times with no damage to it. Grogu wasn’t sure why that was the case, but Ian had told him you couldn’t look a gift gundark in the mouth. Grogu had replied that he hoped never to know people who thought of gundarks as gifts. Those critters were dangerous.

“Kid, you crack me up. You’ve looked right down the gullet of some of the biggest critters I’ve ever seen and pulled Master Kenobi’s cape out before it was digested. Why would a gundark bother you?”

Grogu explained and Ian had laughed.

“Of course they smell bad on the outside. Just imagine how bad they must smell on the inside.”

Grogu hadn’t wanted to imagine that at all.

Had that happened to Daimyo Fett when he was learning from Cad Bane? They both appreciated different things and worked out different ways to achieve their goals, but somehow, managed to work together when absolutely necessary? Or had the youngling realized that he was just safer if the scope’s target was trained on the taller man? Grogu had no doubt that Fennec operated that way. She was far more conscious of everything around her. Daimyo Fett cared about people right up to the point where they clearly demonstrated that they didn’t care about him. Then they were in trouble.

Grogu wondered if that was a Mandalorian trait or just something that the Daimyo did? He’d let the Gamoreans work for him because they were willing to pledge their loyalty to him. He’d forgiven Krrsantan because he didn’t consider it the Wookiee’s fault that he had ended up working for the Hutt Twins. He obviously got along well with Din Djarin and Fennec. But somehow, somewhere, Cad Bane had crossed a line and the Master of Mos Espa was not tolerating that.

There was probably something in the Creed about mentors not attacking their students. Yes, you could test them. Obviously. You had to see how well your training had worked. But betray them? Nope. That was probably like taking your helmet off, or selling your beskar, or refusing to help another Mandalorian. If you did it, you were out.

Cad Bane was definitely out. Bounty hunter rules must have been a lot less strict than Mandalorian rules and Boba Fett wasn’t about to forgive that. Grogu just hoped that the people of Mos Espa appreciated how much the Daimyo cared about them and Tatooine. They had a chance to make their own way now with a person who was willing to do the hard work they hadn’t been able to handle. Maybe they would have a celebration and take the time to appreciate all the good the Daimyo had brought into their lives?

They could call it “Mandalorian Foundling Appreciation Day” or maybe just ‘Thanksgiving’? Either way, Grogu was glad that he knew the Daimyo and that counted for something.

Boba Fett speaking to Cad Bane (out of frame) while standing on the streets of Mos Espa, Tatooine. Caption reads: I will not abandon them. - Boba Fett. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #boba fett #the book of boba fett #fennec shand #star wars #cad bane

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kyberblade · 2 years ago

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Shatter - Gone Rogue (Din x Reader)

A/N: They’re back! These weirdos that I love poked my brain until I couldn’t ignore them. I really hope you love it. We have Fennec and Boba making a guest appearance, too! This is Part 3 in the Shatter-verse. The reader has a name in this fic, but that’s the only descriptor of her. Past that, nothing else, I don’t think. I still use “you” mostly, the name is only used a handful of times. This was meant to be a multi chapter fic, but it’s just not wanting to translate that way, so it’s going to be a series of one shots and a whiff of continuity. Please feel free to send me scenarios, prompts, requests for these crazy kids! Just remember to stick to the rules.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Snark, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Light swear words. Space swearing. Mando’a. Like a lot of it. (Translations at the end of each sentence as I go.) My Mandalorians do what they want. Banter. So much banter. And you’ll probably fall in love with them like I did. (I don’t make the rules.)

Word count: 11,934

Thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Also a shout out to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @fordo-kixed-rex for reading it over for me as I went and telling me I wasn’t crazy. (And @deceiver-of-gods for helping me with the Mando’a - You’re a life saver.) (Any mistakes are my own.)

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

You twisted the wrench as you tightened the bolt under the Crest, the ship’s shadow blocking you from the scalding heat of Tatooine’s twin suns.

“There. I think that’s it, Peli. Wanna test it out before I move?”

“Sure!” She called, jogging up the ramp and into the cockpit. Her voice came over the comm in your pocket a few seconds later, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow. “Wait!” The engines that had started to power up came to an abrupt halt.

“What?” Peli asked urgently.

“Do I need to have Mando hand me my helmet or something? As protection? In case, I don’t know, something pops off and flies straight for my-”

Her loud guffaw rang throughout the hangar from your comm as you glared at it, unimpressed. “You’ll be fine,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath as she muttered your words back under her breath in a fit of giggles. “Starting the engines now.”

The ship roared above you, vibrating just slightly to show its displeasure at being finely tuned. Oh well. It was better than the clunking.

“All looks fine up here,” came her voice over the comm as the engines powered down. “You can close her up and come out. Good job.”

Smiling, you mumbled a thanks, starting to scooch out of the tight space when her voice crackled through again, making you pause.

“Hey, wait. When did you finish this interior?”

You squinted as the suns moved just enough to be in your eyes. “Um, in the last few days, I think. You mean on the lower level?”

“Yeah….” Her voice sounded distant, amazed, moving away from the comm like she was turning around.

“Within the last few days. Mando finished it up while I did the wiring with you in the cockpit.” You dragged your gloved hand down your face, bringing it up to block out the suns. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Looks very good,” she agreed. “Almost makes me wish I could go somewhere in this ship. Almost.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Din said dryly, standing by your head.

Pulling your hand down quickly, you glared up at him, reaching out to whack his leg. “Kriff! You scared me! Don’t do that!”

Peli’s laughter barked over the comm once again, soon coming around the corner to join Din’s in real time as she stood beside you. “Need some help? I can get R5 to tow you out a few feet if you need-”

You glared at her, making her snicker. “No, I’m good, thanks. I can manage.” Wiggling back a few inches, you let out a huff before holding a hand out toward Din. “Help your bodyguard out?”

“If anyone attacked right now, I’d be-”

“Don’t say it,” you grumbled.

“I mean, you’re just laying down on the job,” he continued, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you the rest of the way out before offering you a hand to help you up.

“You’re-”

Once you were on your feet again, Din pulled you close, speaking in a low and teasing voice, “It’s a wonder no one’s snuck in here yet.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” a familiar female voice rang out behind him, making you both turn with blasters drawn. “Hello, Mando.”

“Fennec,” he said on a sigh, lowering his weapon.

“Again?!” Peli lamented. “There is a door, you know.”

“And a lovely door it is,” a familiar man’s voice drawled. A tall bald man in beskar walked up casually, one hand resting on his belt, the other cradling a matching Mandalorian helmet against his side. He tipped his head in respect towards Din. “Hello, old friend.”

You moved to stand in front of him, the man and the woman chuckling.

“You can tell your attack dog to stand down anytime now,” the woman said in a droll tone, making her way down from the rafter she sat on.

The man laughed softly. “Attack dog? No, no, this is his shadow!” He gestured to you with his free hand. “Everyone knows the shadow of a Mandalorian is the most dangerous part, because if you’ve lingered long enough to see it, odds are you’re probably within striking distance.”

You smirked. “I don’t mind you.” Turning your blaster on the woman, you gestured to her with the weapon. “You, I’m not so crazy about, but I have a feeling that’ll change.”

Din put his hand on your shoulder, sliding it down your arm to make you lower your blaster. “Ti, this is Fennec Shand and Boba Fett.”

Disengaging your blaster, you holstered it. “The ones who gave us the piece of shi- I mean ship.”

Boba laughed loudly while Fennec rolled her eyes with a small grin. “That would be me,” he chuckled. “She was in horrible shape when I found her, but look at her now!” He gestured to the ship behind you. “Got you here in one piece and she’s sparkling.”

“Because I flew her here,” you grumbled, smiling when Boba laughed again. You liked him. He brought a joy into a room. Walking up, you offered your hand, which he took and gave a firm shake. “Ti Jyrr. Head of strategy and tactics, and temporary head of security. Also currently a bodyguard to the Mand’alor and the child until we can get back home.”

Boba’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of, where is the foundling?”

“Asleep on the ship,” Din stepped up beside you. “He’s her shadow, follows her everywhere. Tired him out early today after she convinced him to chase Peli’s droids around the hangar for a few hours.”

Peli let out a surprised huff of laughter. “That was you? That was the cutest thing I have ever seen. Plus, getting R5 to finally wind down and connect to a charging dock for once - ah! Blissful silence - you’re a magician!”

“I think it was just trying to get away from Grogu,” you smirked, shrugging. “But hey, it all worked out.” Turning back to the newcomers, you jerked your head back toward the ship. “Would you like a tour? I need to wake the kid up, anyway, or he’ll wake up right when I go to sleep and start jumping on my bed or something.”

“That would be lovely,” Boba smiled before his features adopted something a little more serious. He set his helmet on a nearby table before he brought his hands together to rest in front of him. “Then, after that, if we could have a….” He looked at Fennec before turning back to you and Din. “Discussion of sorts? A business proposition is more like it.”

Sharing a look with Din, you nodded once to him. “I can watch the kid so the three of you-”

“Oh no, this would involve you, too.” Boba’s voice made you stop short.

“I can watch the womp rat,” Peli chimed in softly, her hand raised as if you didn’t know who was speaking. “I owe ya one after you got R5 on the dock earlier.”

You shared one more look with Din before he turned to Boba and Fennec. “Sounds like a plan. Now come on. I want to show you what we did with the hyperdrive.”

Xxx

Grogu squawked across the hangar in Peli’s arms as she fed him, the sound bouncing off every surface and echoing into the cool night air.

You and Din sat across from Boba and Fennec at a small table off to the side, parts for all sorts of craft shoved out of the way so you could see one another.

“I have a proposition for you,” Boba began on a sigh, leaning forward on the table to brace on his forearms. “Someone has stolen from me. Wormed his way into my inner circle and as soon as he had an opening, made off with a small fortune in credits.”

He leaned back in his chair, lounging almost. “Now, you know the credits aren’t a problem for me, I don’t care about that.” He leaned forward again, his eyes determined as his finger jammed into the table to emphasize his words. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“What do you want us to do about it?” Din adjusted in his seat to recline slightly, one hand resting on the table.

“We have enough people to keep the ports and ways out of town under surveillance,” Fennec took over. “He’s not going anywhere. But by keeping everything under watch, we don’t have the manpower to actually look for him.”

“And you think just the two of us is enough?” Both of them looked at you in amusement.

“Two Mandalorians is more than enough.” Boba chuckled. “He’s not a genius by any means.”

“He was smart enough to get past you.”

Din kicked your foot under the table with his own, making you roll your eyes.

Boba looked on in amusement. “That he was,” he agreed with a nod. “Probably because I don’t have someone like you keeping watch for me. Then again, we did sneak up on you today, did we not?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked across the hangar absently, not willing to dignify that with an answer.

“These things happen,” he continued, his voice softer. “I just want to make an example so it doesn’t happen again.”

“We wanted to give you first go at it before we put out a puck.” Your eyes finally landed on Fennec as she explained, a smirk growing on her face. “Figured you’d want some fun before you had to get off planet. And like Boba said, credits aren’t a problem, so your finders fee should help keep your life on the run well funded.”

“What are friends for,” Boba drawled teasingly, his focus across the table on Din.

“I’m assuming you want him alive,” he finally said after a long moment, sitting up straight in his chair.

“Preferably,” Boba nodded, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “But should something…. happen, I’m not going to deduct anything from the final total.”

“Can you send us copies of city maps we can add to our navs in our helmets?” All three heads turned to you. “It’ll be much easier if we’re not getting lost in the maze of back alleys and market stalls.”

Boba looked at Fennec before he turned back to you with an amused look and nodded.

“I’m also assuming you don’t want any damage done to the city? Or at least, as little as possible?” You turned to Din. “I have some blasters with decent stun features I picked up at the market the other day when I made a food run. Might be best to avoid the most civilian casualties and property damage, then if we get close enough to him and get a clear shot, should we need to, we can switch it over.”

“You went blaster shopping on a food run?” Din asked after a moment of silence.

You shrugged. “I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.”

“This is the way,” Boba teased.

Din groaned, making you smile. Leaning forward to offer Boba his hand across the table, they shook on it. “We have a deal. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

After getting the man’s details, talking over the prices, and getting the necessary maps, you all said goodbye.

“It was an honor to meet you,” you said as you stood beside Din near the doorway on their way out.

“The honor is all mine,” Boba said, his head inclined as he looked down at you. “I’m excited to see you work, Ti.”

“If it all goes to plan, you won’t notice a thing.”

He chuckled at that, looking to Din and bowing his head respectfully. “Mand’alor.” Then they disappeared into the night.

Turning to Din, he turned to face you before you both began walking back into the hangar. “Why don’t you go grab Grogu, let Peli get to sleep, and I’ll meet you on the ship. Show you what all I bought.”

He nodded, his steps speeding up as he headed toward the little alcove where R5’s bleeps and Grogu’s squeaks were heard echoing softly.

You went up the ramp of the Crest, going to the weapons cabinet where you had stored your recent purchases and pulled a few out.

Din padded up the ramp quietly a few minutes later, a sleeping Grogu in his arms, making you smile as he passed by. “He passed out almost as soon as she handed him off,” Din said on an amused huff.

Setting Grogu in his small hammock before he closed the door to the bunk area, he turned back to you and sighed, rubbing the top of his helmet absently.

“What’s wrong?” You set the blasters down and turned to fully face him.

“She can’t watch him tomorrow. Has some job she agreed to before we got here.” He leaned on the wall next to the bunk door. “I used to take him with me on bounties, but….”

“That was when you were on the run because of the bounty on him. Now we’re on the run basically because of a bounty on you.”

Din lifted his head, his visor meeting your understanding gaze, nodding gently before he looked away again.

“Hey, the bounty is basically on both of us.” You took a step closer, craning your neck back, tilting your head just slightly to try and catch his eyes. “You don’t get to take all the blame, Djarin. Whatever is going on, it’s a problem for all Mandalorians, and we aren’t the kind to just hide under a rock.” Looking over his shoulder, you studied the wall behind him. “Well, except for coverts, but we aren’t talking about that.”

He snorted out a laugh, making you return your eyes to his visor and grin up at him. “He doesn’t care. He loves spending the day with you. Just bring him with.” Your hand came to rest on his upper arm.

“I don’t want to put him in any more danger. If anything happened to him because of me, I-”

“Then I’ll take him with me.” He finally met your gaze again. “I’ll keep him safe. Do you trust me?”

After a moment Din nodded. “You know I do.”

“Then it’s settled.” You squeezed his arm before letting your hand fall back to your side. “I’ll take him in the cradle. I’ll keep him safe. Nothing will happen to him.”

Lifting his head all the way back up, Din looked behind you. Gesturing with a jut of his chin, he asked quietly, “What’s under the tarp?”

Turning to face the nearby crate draped in the dull fabric, you made your way over to it. “They didn’t know what they had. It’s all pieced out and needs a good clean, Peli might even have some parts you could replace these with if they’re too far gone, but…. I thought you might want it after all the stories you’ve told me while we’ve been working on the ship.”

“Stories?” Din looked down at the crate as you pulled the cloth away, showing old rusty pieces that put together would be an Amban rifle.

“You mentioned you lost it with the ship, and since you have the ship again….”

Din traced the parts with one gloved hand, his fingers barely touching the storied metal pieces.

“Since we’re fighting for our home, our values, our everything, it only seemed right that you do it with this. Thought it might help restore your faith a little bit.” You winked.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, his hand coming to rest on your upper arm like yours had on his. “I…. This is…. Thank you.”

“Now, don’t stay up all night putting it together,” you warned. “You need sleep. And it’ll be here later.”

He looked at you with a tilt of his head that said, you’re crazy.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You smirked. “I’ll help.”

Xxx

As the suns began to peek over the lip of the hangar the next morning, Din stood just inside the Crest admiring the completed Amban rifle.

He held it in his hands, tilting it back and forth to see it from all angles, his head tilting fondly the longer he stared.

Letting out a massive yawn from where you sat on a nearby crate, you smirked at him. “Why don’t you just ask it to marry you already? That’d be faster than whatever this is.” You made a small circular gesture to him with your hand, arching your brow when he lifted his visor to look at you for the first time in hours.

Before he could say anything, the bunk door slid open to your right, Grogu already bright eyed and chittering happily after a good night's rest.

“Jate vaar'tur, ad’ika,” you said softly, yawning again as you reached for the tiny green creature ambling over to you as fast as his little legs would carry him. “Did you sleep well?” Reaching down, you scooped him into your lap, chuckling when he screeched joyfully. (“Good morning, little one.”)

The kid reached out and grabbed the mudhorn pendant you wore, his eyes going wide as it caught the light just right, before he promptly began gnawing on it.

“Kid,” Din groaned. “Hey. Stop that. Grogu.” He began to walk over, reaching out to tug the metal out of his son’s mouth. “That’s not what that’s for, kid.”

Making a sound of displeasure, Grogu looked between both of you before trying to take his new toy back from between Din’s fingers, letting out an annoyed huff and glaring up at his father when it was pulled further away from him.

“It’s too sharp, ad’ika. You could get hurt.” Grogu looked up at you with the biggest eyes you’d seen yet, blinking slowly as if to plead with you to give in. “I know. How about we get you some food instead?” A laugh painted the last few words as Grogu’s face changed instantly and he began trying to scale your front to get face to face with you, slipping down your chest plate with a screech.

It quickly melted into another yawn, Grogu following suit a few seconds later, and Din a few moments after that.

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “I’ll get him something to eat, and grab a cup or seven of caf. Want some?” Din nodded, turning back to admiring his rifle again, making you roll your eyes as you began down the ramp. “I’ll be right back. Give you two a moment alone.”

Din mumbled his thanks, not looking up from the weapon as you glanced over your shoulder, smirking.

Headed for the kitchen, you mumbled almost conspiratorially to Grogu, “Your dad is something else, kid.”

Xxx

As your little clan of three stepped through the door of the hangar, Peli’s voice sending you on your way ringing off of every hard surface behind you, both you and Din shared a look before turning to the kid where he sat in his floating cradle.

“You got that set to stun?” Motioning to Din’s new Amban rifle that sat on his back, attached to a leather strap slung across his chest, you tightened your gloves.

He nodded once in confirmation, his head slowly turning to survey the nearby area.

“What about everything else?”

His visor turned to lock with yours. “All but one. I’m not leaving myself defenseless.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “I think if anyone had to use a word to describe you, ‘defenseless’ wouldn’t be on the list, even if you didn’t have a single weapon.”

“Then remind me the purpose of your job, then, if I don’t need protecting?” You tilted your head at him in annoyance. “I like to be prepared,” he amended, pulling your hand toward his and fixing the clasp on your glove you had been fiddling with. “What did you do to this? It’s like it’s been through a trash compactor.”

You couldn’t help but snort once again. “Not far off. R5 rolled over it a grand total of three times before I could get him to stop moving- hey!” You cried in protest as he yanked the buckle from the fabric with a precise tug, tucking it into the pouch on his belt and tying a simple but effective knot in its place.

“I’ll fix it before we leave. But right now, you need to focus, and you can’t if you have a buckle- if it can even still be called that- flopping around while you're trying to aim.” Cinching the knot tight, he let your hand fall back to your side. “There. Ready to go, ner cabur?” (“My protector.”)

You shook your head at his antics. “Elek, olaror, ner verd'ika.” (“Yes, come, my little soldier.”)

Din scoffed at your teasing tone, following a few paces behind as you both ventured into the market, the kid following alongside you in his cradle. “Mir'sheb.” (“Smartass.”)

“The smartest,” you quipped playfully, looking at the kid with an affectionate tilt of your head as he grinned broadly back up at you.

“Sheb'urcyin,” Din grumbled, making you bark out a laugh. (“Butt-kisser.”)

Looking at him over your shoulder as you continued forward, you spoke over a laugh, your words bouncing with the effort. “Now what about me has ever made you think that?”

“You’re right. Your pure shereshoy blinded me for a minute and I had to look away. I only saw what the sarcasm allowed.” (“Lust for life and much more.”)

You turned to face him, walking backwards, your voice the most sarcastic he had heard it in days. “Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” (“Are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?”)

Din smiled under his helmet, glad to finally be back to the banter the two of you had slipped into since first going on the run days ago. The closer it got to leaving Tatooine, the more business minded and mission oriented you had been, focused on making everything run smoothly for all three of them, and it seemed to come at the cost of some of your lighter moods. Seeing the teasing tilt of your helmet now, the almost literal spring in your step, hearing the lilt in your voice…. The world was spinning the right way again. “Now, now, don’t be stupid, that would be a jare move.” (“Kamikaze - someone taking a fatal, foolish risk.”)

Barking out another laugh, you turned to walk forward again, Din shaking his head fondly once your back was turned. “I’ll show you a jare move,” you grumbled.

Grogu began to coo happily as he looked between the two of you, giggling softly as he looked up at you with a broad grin, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.

Looking down at him, you huffed out a laugh. “You think that’s funny, ad’ika? You think I’m funny when I threaten your dad?” He giggled again. “That’s kinda copikla, kid.” (“Cute.”)

“Be careful who you jurkadir, burc'ya.” (“Threaten/Mess with.”) (“Friend.”)

You turned to face him, your hands held behind your back in feigned innocence as you leaned toward him to tease, “That works both ways, burc'ya.”

“Sha'kajir?” Din held up his hands in surrender. (“Truce?”)

You thought for a moment before bowing your head in agreement. “Sha'kajir. Oya!” (“Let’s hunt!”)

“Should we split up?” Din stepped up beside you, surveying the sea of market stalls sprawling in front of you.

“Not yet. Let’s move as a unit for now, let everyone see us together. Then, later I’ll take the market while you take the alleys, and if we happen upon him- or anyone else who wants to cause us trouble- they’ll assume the other is nearby and they’ll be distracted looking for someone who isn’t there.”

Nodding, Din followed behind you as you started into the crowd, people watching your little party with weary glances, but they didn’t keep their distance like people on other planets tended to do.

It only took a few minutes before you stopped and turned to Din, your voice low. “I see him. He’s in the cantina.”

Looking to his left, Din saw the man sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of locals, all guffawing as he told some story. “Too many other people. We’ll tail him.” Reaching up to touch the side of his helmet, he overlaid the map of the alleys behind the building. “I’ll go around the back and wait, make sure he doesn’t get spooked and try to run.”

“What are they even laughing at?” You muttered, staring blatantly into the dingy watering hole. “He’s probably not even that funny.”

“Why do you say that?”

You looked up at him. “Have you seen his face?” Turning back to the bar, you shifted your weight to one side. “He just doesn’t have it.”

Din let out a snort. “They’re probably just doing whatever gets them another drink. Looks like he’s waving his new found wealth around without much worry.”

“Di'kut,” you grumbled, moving to lean your back against the front of the building with a soft groan. (“Idiot.”)

“Kaysh mirsh solus,” Din agreed with a chuckle, stepping into the shade next to you. (“He's an idiot.” (Lit. “His brain cell is lonely.”))

“Go ahead and wait by the back door. I’ll stay here with the kid.”

“And what’s going to keep you out of trouble? You’re not known for being the best at waiting.”

You turned your face to him slowly, ignoring his satisfied shift of weight, the teasing tilt of his helmet as he waited for your response. “Myself,” you grit out, leaning your head back to look down your nose at him.

Turning your attention back across the street, you saw a little nest of scurriers tucked under one of the booths. Tilting your hand until the suns caught the armor on the back of it just right, light reflecting off the raw beskar triangle and bouncing onto the sand near the nest. The creatures lifted their heads, cautiously investigating the light as it danced with every slight movement of your hand, running in circles as you made it go this way and that.

The kid watched with rapt attention, clapping and squealing with delight as the scurriers stumbled over one another in an effort to catch the light.

Turning your visor up to Din proudly, you paused when he tilted his head down to peer what felt like straight into your soul.

“What? Oh, come on! It’s harmless!”

“Ner ver'gebuir, anade.” Din gestured to you with a flourish, bowing at his waist in a mock introduction to no one as he spoke in a low tone. (“My bodyguard, everyone.”)

You pulled your hand back into the shadow of the building to shove him to the side, the scurriers following the light as it streaked across the market, making a cart pulled by a droid slam to a stop to avoid hitting the creatures. All was well until a landspeeder crashed into the back of that cart, then a speeder bike into the back of that.

Smoke curled into the marketplace, causing patrons to begin to vacate, the passengers of the vehicles involved all hopping out and beginning to yell at one another as the scurriers returned to their nest safe and forgotten.

People in all the nearby establishments began to pour into the streets to see what the commotion was, the lane filling with bodies faster than you could process what was happening.

“Kriff,” you mumbled, taking in the scene before adding a hissed, “Osik!” Turning you surveyed the bar, finding no sign of the quarry. (“Shit!”)

“Dank farrik!” Din grumbled, taking a few steps out onto the street and pressing the side of his helmet as he scanned the crowd.

“What are you looking for? Heat signatures will be useless right now. It’s Tatooine, so it’s hot, plus everyone and their bantha is on the street right now-”

“K'uur!” Din snapped, making you pull up abruptly from where you stood, standing at attention. (“Hush!”)

“Me'ven?” You deadpanned, staring right at him. (“Huh?”)

He sighed, still surveying the street. “I need to concentrate. Please. Just five seconds of silence.”

Pushing a button on your vambrace, you closed the cradle to protect the child, but a repetitive knocking from inside made you roll your eyes and pop it back open. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at the kid, one hip jutting out to the side as you gave him the look.

“Really?” You signed to him in Tusken, shifting your weight to the other side when he giggled in response.

“I think he took the alleys,” Din finally said, turning to face you, and finding the kid giggling as you signed away to him. “Ti,” he grabbed your attention, ignoring the attitude he felt when you tilted your head at him questioningly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you signed, standing up straight again.

“That’s not nothing, that’s-”

“Uur,” you whispered sarcastically in explanation, leaning toward him as you did. (“Silence.”)

Din huffed in annoyance. “I had his chain code programmed to an old puck Fennec brought me. I rerouted it and sent the signal to my display so I can track him without tipping off the mark, or anyone seeing the fob and getting in the way.”

You stared at him. It was all you could do. Arms still across your chest, you shifted your weight under his gaze. “Is there a way I can get my hands on that, too?” Your voice was small, and you hated it.

He reached out, tapping the side of your helmet twice, and your display filtered through settings before landing on a blinking red dot moving rapidly back behind the buildings to your right.

“I did it last night when you fell asleep while we were putting the rifle together. You left your helmet on a crate next to you. Only took a second, in and out, no problems.”

“I didn’t-”

“You drool.”

Again, all you could do was stare wordlessly, hoping your brain would catch up with something in time to snap back with. And it did. “You snore louder than a kriffing bantha fart.”

Din just held your gaze, neither one of you moving an inch as the child babbled mindlessly, watching the chaos ensue throughout the streets. “Sounds like we’re both a party, then.”

“Bal'ban,” you mused quietly in agreement, huffing out a small laugh. (“Indeed.”)

This was the most Mando’a the two of you had spoken since leaving Mandalore days ago. Slipping into it was effortless, and it helped logistically in the chaotic din left behind by the accident. It was easy to pick out the familiar words above the rest of the noise, allowing both of you to communicate painlessly.

Din chuckled, nodding as he turned to find the bounty again. “He’s moving toward the port. Fennec and Boba said they have the area well guarded, so he won’t get far, but I think it best we split up and head him off before he tries anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” you muttered. “Man’s a or'dinii. Stole from the richest man in the city, okay, kinda smart. But that man is also a crime boss who wears beskar, and is probably one of the most lethal people on the planet, present company excluded.” (“Moron.”)

“Comms channel two. Head to the port through the streets, I’ll go through the alleys like we planned.” Din turned to the kid, sighing heavily after a moment.

Narrowing your brows, you followed his gaze and found Grogu letting out soft happy squeals as the cradle spun in circles by some unseen force.

Moving as a unit, both you and Din reached out to grab the sides of the hovering orb, bringing it to a gentle stop, Grogu’s head still moving in a small rotation as the world continued to spin around him.

“At least he can entertain himself. And quietly,” you chuckled, turning your attention from the little green ward back up to Din’s visor.

“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed on a hum, moving his hand from the edge of the cradle to his son to stabilize his still woozy wobbling, tugging down the front of his robe about an inch to check he had the beskar shirt on.

“I put it on him myself, Mando.” Din’s visor turned to you as he let the robe go, smoothing the fabric back in place before withdrawing his hand altogether. “He’ll be safe. I promise. He’s my aliit now, too, remember.” Din nodded once. “You have my word, no harm will come to him.” (“Family/Clan.”)

You couldn’t help but smile. Here was this large, dangerous Mandalorian, and his level of care and concern for arguably the smallest little ward in the galaxy never failed to make you stop and stare. Their meeting went beyond just fate, beyond just chance bringing a protector to a child in need. Something greater was at work here, bringing two lonely, damaged souls together to help pick up one another’s pieces.

They were forged with fire, stronger than any beskar, hardened and tempered against the strongest of tests. And now not even the greatest blacksmith in the galaxy would be able to pry these two apart. But it loved to try. And you’d do everything in your power to keep them from breaking, keep them strong, no matter the cost. Ne shab'rud'mhi. (“Don't mess with us.”)

You smiled broader at the thought of staring fate down in the face, should it ever try to do your family harm. Ne shab'rud'ni. (“Don't mess with me.”)

“Now go.”

Din took a few steps backwards, keeping his eyes on you, then the kid, before turning and disappearing down an alley, the smoke from the accident curling around him.

“You saw everything!” A man walked up to you, covered in black streaks of soot and smoke, probably grease from whichever of the three vehicles involved was his. “I need you to tell the authorities.”

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder in what he probably took for kindness, but you were just tamping out some embers smoldering through his tunic. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have the time. I-”

“I wasn’t asking,” he ground out, grabbing your wrist where your hand still sat on his shoulder, squeezing it much too tightly. He gave it a good jerk toward the wreck, but you pulled back, making him stumble, before turning a glare on you.

Without fuss, you adjusted your grip on him and yanked him to you, stooping down slightly while swinging your arm before straightening back up as he flipped in the air, landing flat on his back at your feet with an oomph.

You looked down at him, unamused, as Grogu peered over the edge of the cradle, cooing gleefully.

“I said,” you leaned just slightly closer to him, tilting your head when he flinched away, “no.”

Lifting your visor back to the streets, you switched your display to the city map, overlaying it with the tracker with a press of a button on your vambrace. Another press opened comm channel two. “You there?”

“What took you so long?” Din sounded relieved as you began to venture through the mess of market stalls toward your target.

“Don’t worry about it. Locals,” you brushed off, turning abruptly to bypass a thick group of pedestrians.

He grunted. “Explain.”

“Someone wanted me to make a statement about the accident,” you sighed, navigating back to the main road. “Didn’t understand the word ‘no’.”

“How did you explain it to them?”

You grinned. “You know me. It was fast and only slightly painful.”

“Ti, you better not have-”

“I didn’t kill him,” you protested loudly, veering to the right. “Why did you jump to that?”

“Have you met you?”

“No. No, I haven’t. How am I? Am I great? I hear I’m amazing.” He let out a soft snort. “Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

Din’s soft chuckle filled your ears before a blaster shot replaced it, making you pull up short.

“Din?” He didn’t answer. “What’s going on?”

“Kriffing Jawas,” he grumbled. “Tried to jump me and take my jet pack.”

You snorted, shaking your head gently as you began moving again. “At least tell me-”

“It was set to stun,” he ground out as if the thought was physically painful to him, making you laugh a bit harder. “I know why you jumped to that.”

“Good, so you’ve met you.” Teasing, you pushed another button and a yellow dot popped up showing Din’s location.

“Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

“That’s what you think,” you mumbled under your breath, smiling again when he hummed in question. “Nothing.” Stopping, you watched the red dot start to head in a totally different direction. “He’s deviating.”

“I see. Looks like he’s doubling back. Headed your way.”

Nodding, you turned and headed back the way you came. “I’ll cut him off at the bar. The accident mess will add enough cover to not draw attention to us.”

“Good idea. Plus, then you can give your statement.”

“Nu draar.” Din chuckled at your response. “I would rather eat a mouthful of this sand.” (“Absolutely not.”)

“That’s commitment.”

“You sound like you speak from experience. You ever gotten a mouthful of Tatooine before?”

“Once or twice. I did kill a krayt dragon not long ago, remember.”

“How can I forget? You tell that story at least once a week if not more.”

Din grumbled.

“At the rate you’re moving, we’ll be at the bar at the same time.”

“How do you…. You’re tracking me?”

Dodging under a cart as it crossed the road in front of you, sliding on the sand in its shadow before hopping back up, you smiled at Grogu’s happy squeal of approval at your side. “You sound surprised. Of course I am. You and the child are my first priority.” Glancing over at the green smiling face at your side, wide eyes taking in the world around him, you moved a bit faster. “You aren’t the only one who did some display modification last night. I ran the upload while I was comforting Grogu after his nightmare.”

“How-”

“I have two hands. He fits in one, I can press buttons with the other-”

Din’s heavy sigh cut you off. “No, how are you tracking me? Chain code?”

“It’s a program I made a few days ago before we even left Mandalore, believe it or not. Chain codes would be too dangerous if anyone got their hands on it, especially for the kid. Too universal of a tracker. This is a regional proximity sensor, condensed to a certain mile radius I can set each time I open it. Right now it’s just three miles, the size of the city from the port to the hangar. It’s following your comm. Specifically the one in your helmet.”

He hesitated. “When did you-”

“I told you. You snore. Loudly.” He said nothing. “You didn’t wake up the entire time I plugged in, uploaded, modified…. You just kept snoring away under that dome, oblivious.” You grinned. “You’re lucky I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“I think that would have woken me up,” he huffed.

“Would it have, though?” The smile grew in the silence. “I’m good at my job, remember.”

“How can I forget? You remind me at least once a week if not more.”

It was your turn to grumble.

The bar was just up ahead, the red dot of the quarry now still behind a few buildings to the right. “He’s stopped. The area behind the accident. Maybe he’s not so stupid after all….”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to admire him.”

“Why? You jealous, Djarin?”

“No,” he answered after a moment. “Just…. Concerned. You called him a moron less than an hour ago.”

“Even morons have their moments,” you said absently, turning in a circle as you searched for a clear way to the target.

That’s when you saw him.

He was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed easily, ankles crossed leisurely as he watched them begin to pull the vehicles apart, a small grin on his face.

“He’s here.”

“What?” Din must have stopped, because his voice no longer shook from the impact of his footfalls. A quick glance showed his yellow dot was indeed stationary. “But the tracker-”

“Is wrong. I’m looking right at him.”

Just then he looked up and held the gaze of your visor for a long moment, realization dawning on his face before he pushed off the wall and turned down the alley, disappearing in the smoke just like Din had.

“Osi'kyr!” You took off running after him, pressing a button on your vambrace to make the cradle go faster, shaking your head when Grogu let out an approving cackle. (“Strong exclamation of surprise or dismay.”)

“Ti?” Din’s voice rang in your helmet, and he was once again in motion, grunting as he dodged around the many obstacles Tatooine always provided. “Which way?”

“South. Turn your display off and back on, it should reset. I don’t have time, I have eyes on him, I’m not losing that.” Jumping over a large crate, you had to vault over an even larger one on the other side, and your feet went out from under you when you landed, making you roll before quickly popping back up and resuming the chase. “The sand tastes like shit, by the way.”

A soft laugh filled your helmet, growing steadily with each second.

“Never give Tatooine an ultimatum. She’ll make sure you eat your words. Literally.”

Smacking your lips in distaste, trying to get rid of as much of the grit as you could without doing anything to your helmet and losing sight of the target, you made a sound of disgust.

“Was that for my joke or the sand?”

You chuckled, licking your lips as you ran faster still. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The cradle kicked up a notch, speeding along beside you, dodging crates and civilians with ease. Grogu screeched with excitement, holding on to the front rim of the orb as his ears flapped behind him in the wind.

“Display is back up. He’s right in front of you.”

“I can see that, thanks.”

He huffed. “You have a dead end coming up. Two turns to the left and one to the right. Corral him there.”

Nodding, you turned sideways to shimmy past two tight walls. “Got it.”

The quarry was desperate, throwing whatever he could get his hands on at you, clothes on lines between buildings, pottery in people’s windows, contents people were carrying.

You’d successfully dodged all of it, the kid too, his cradle swinging left and right as you ducked and rolled out of the way, making him let out little grunts from the impact of each abrupt direction change. Until a white shirt came flying toward the cradle, covering the kid from top to bottom, forming to him like carbonite from the force of the wind behind it. The impact cut his scream of glee short, silence ringing through the alley as your steps slowed just slightly, your attention turning to him, assessing him for injuries. Suddenly giggles started erupting from under the material, growing by the second, and finally the shirt flew off of him by an unseen force, drifting to the ground lazily as it was released. Grogu looked at you with pure joy, babbling something as he gestured toward the man with one clawed hand, the quarry’s steps slowing down as he looked down at the ground with wide eyes.

“Thanks, kid,” you chuckled, speeding back up, the cradle matching your speed as Grogu gripped the edges again, the bounty regaining control of his limbs and charging ahead. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

“Patu!” You grinned at his declaration, his own smile beaming up at you before he began to squeal again as you picked up speed.

The man kept glancing over his shoulder, stumbling when he did, but he’d gain the ground right back when he turned back the right way, making you grunt in frustration.

“You’re almost to the dead end.”

“Kriff! Son of a mudscuffer!” You hissed. “I forgot you were there, Din. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he sounded almost sheepish, before he began again abruptly. “Right! Right! Get him to go right!”

“Hey! Asshole!” The man’s steps stuttered before he leaned into it again. “Whatever you do, don’t you dare go right!”

He hesitated, slowing just slightly, and you matched him, wanting to give him the illusion of control. Finally he came to a stop, turning to face you, a skeptical eyebrow raised as he asked, “Why?”

You grinned under your helmet, trying to control the glee in your voice that he was falling for the trap. Stopping a few yards away from him, you slouched slightly, feigning catching your breath. “Because I can’t follow you there. My nav stops at this point and I’d be going in blind. Help a girl out, huh?” You held your hands out to the side, showing you didn’t have a weapon drawn. Grogu cooed questioningly as he tilted his head at the man.

“Well, in that case, I think that’s exactly where I’ll go.” He grinned.

“No,” you cried out, trying to sound convincing, and starting to head his way again, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect with a hand reached toward him as if it would do any good.

When he disappeared down the dark alley, you dropped all pretenses. “Or'dinii,” you muttered under your breath, watching after him. “Headed for the dead end, Din.” No answer. “Din?” Looking around, you saw his yellow dot stalled nearby, his comm crackling through. (“Fool.”)

A growled, “Jawas,” was all you heard, before some grunting, the comm crackling in and out, then the telltale “Utinni!” made you roll your eyes before you headed into the darkness after the mark.

“So long as I don’t hear the….” A distinct shot echoed in a nearby alley, making you lift your hand to cradle your face, shaking your head. “….Amban rifle.”

You walked up slowly, casually, enjoying the sight of the quarry staring up at the dead end, frantically trying to find a way up and over the massive wall. One hand resting on your hip as it juts to the side easily, you watched for a moment in amusement before clearing your throat.

The mark went stiff before turning to face you, glowering fiercely. “Couldn’t come this far, huh?”

“To be fair,” you began, gesturing needlessly with your free hand as you spoke, “I did tell you not to come over here.”

He huffed an unamused laugh as he looked off to the side, ignoring the sound of a shrieking Jawa somewhere a few buildings over.

Din’s yellow dot still blinked steadily despite the broken connection, and it seemed he was finally making his way over to you. You just had to stall.

“I’m assuming this is because I stole the credits?”

“That would be correct.”

“How much is my bounty?”

You tilted your head at him in amusement. “More than you took.”

“Okay, look lady,” he was starting to get desperate. “If you let me go, I’ll give you what I have left, plus interest!”

“Interest?”

“I didn’t just steal from Fett! I’ve been making my way across all the crime families of Tatooine. I’ve got a mountain of credits back at my place, stashed under the floorboards.”

“Gar cuyi or’dinii,” you whispered under your breath, but he heard you. He must have thought it was an exclamation of joy or disbelief at the information, though, because he simply smiled smugly, nodding as he offered a quiet, “It’s true.” (“You’re a moron.”)

And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.

“Where is this place?” You asked instead, jutting your chin toward him as he began to smirk.

“Right beside the bar across the street from where you first found me. There’s enough there for you to buy anything you want. New armor….” Din’s yellow dot was coming in fast. “A new ship….” He was almost here. “A friend for your, er,” he eyed Grogu, the child narrowing his eyes at him, unamused, “pet….” He finally decided on, earning a grunt from the kid.

“He’s not a pet,” you corrected calmly, taking a step closer to the man, and his smug demeanor all but crumbled instantly.

“I’m not scared of you!”

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about,” you replied simply with a shrug. Tilting your head back and to the right, you smiled under the beskar. “It’s his kid.”

The bounty barely had time to register your words, mumbling, “Kid? What is that thing?” before Din’s armor clad fist was slamming into his face with a clang.

As the engine of his jet pack powered down, Din took a few extra steps from the momentum before stopping, breathing heavily like he had just got out of a fight for his life. “We don’t know,” he said decidedly to the unconscious man. “But he’s my son.”

“Utreekov,” you muttered, nudging the man with the toe of your boot. (“Idiot.”)

Slapping binders on the quarry, Din slung the man over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Kriffing Jawas,” he seethed, shaking his head before taking off again with his jet pack.

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have one of those, why?!”

Din just laughed softly, the sound buzzing around the inside of your helmet.

Looking up as he disappeared over the buildings, his cape flapped dangerously close to the flames. “You’re just a fire hazard!”

Xxx

Boba and Fennec were there to meet you once you returned to the hangar.

Peli was blushing at something the older man was saying, waving him off with a quick laugh as she turned to see your clan of three come through the door.

“Oh, thank the Force, you’re all alive!”

“You thought we wouldn’t be?”

“With you I never know.” She leveled you with a look.

Din let the man flop to the floor unceremoniously, leaving him in the heap he landed in. “Here’s your thief.”

“That’s him alright,” Boba sighed, turning the bounty onto his back with a shove to his shoulder from his boot. “Thank you.” His eyes flicked between you and Din. “I heard about an accident by the cantina. That didn’t happen to be either of you, by chance?”

Din shook his head wordlessly while you copied him a few seconds later, adding, “No. Saw it happen, though. They swerved to avoid some wildlife.”

Boba nodded, looking between you both for a long moment. “Okay, then.” He began to turn away, but you stopped him.

“Wait.” He paused, looking at you with a curious tilt of his head. “The quarry spoke to me at the end, tried to bribe me. I think you might be interested in what he had to say.”

Boba gestured for you to continue with a bob of his head. “Go on.”

“He said he’s been making his way through the crime families of Tatooine. Offered to give me what was left of your credits plus interest.” You explained the rest about his house and stash, their faces a mix between frustration and surprise the further along you got. “He seemed to be telling the truth, but I wanted to know what you both thought before moving on it.”

They exchanged loaded glances before asking you to go look into it. “Take Fennec, she’ll get you out of any locals asking too many questions. We’re from Mos Espa, but they know us here, too. Mando, I’ll help you get this one,” Boba shoved the man’s shoulder with the tip of his boot, earning a groan from his still unconscious state, “to my cells.”

“I’ll watch the kid,” Peli offered softly, pulling the cradle to her as Grogu snored gently.

Nodding, you turned and followed Fennec out the front door of the hangar.

Xxx

Knocking on the door of the house, just as a precaution, you slammed your shoulder into it when nobody answered, busting it open. It was sparsely furnished, the only real defining thing a giant rug over the middle of the floor. Letting out a huff of laughter, you shook your head as you knelt down, flipping the corner back as you scanned the bare floor with your display, looking for a varying heat signature. Finding it near the middle of the rug after you pushed more of it to the side, you pried a board up, slipping the rest out easily and handing them to Fennec to set to the side. Pulling back once they were all removed, you let out a low whistle.

Sure enough, under the floorboards there was a pile of credits, almost tall enough for you to stick your arm in up to your shoulder, and wide enough it’d take two containers to get it out. The ground underneath had been dug out, leaving behind a hole filled nearly to the brim.

“He’s been a busy little thief, hasn’t he,” Fennec mused quietly as she stared at the glinting pile of credits with wide eyes.

“Too bad he wasn’t also a smart one.”

Turning your visor her way, you met Fennec’s gaze in silence, holding it for a moment before you both broke down in snorts of laughter, warm chuckles filling the night air.

She sat back on her haunches, grunting as she settled in. “You know, I’ll admit, I was a little leery at the beginning. I’ve worked with Mando before, I didn’t really know why we needed you, too.”

Turning your visor back to the pile of credits, she was quick to continue.

“But,” she said pointedly, “Boba was quick to help me see the error of my ways.” Smiling fondly, she waited until you turned your gaze back her way before saying anything more. “You two work well together.”

“He’s easy to work with,” you countered with a shrug.

“No he’s not,” she said with a snort, making you shake your head as you chuckled. “But he’s a good man. A good leader. And he loves that little foundling with a love that’s dangerous for anyone willing to get between them.”

“I would never do that,” you said quietly. “They belong together.”

“I’m not saying you would, but you’re quickly becoming someone he shares that same type of devotion for.” She reached out and took the mudhorn pendant around your neck between her thumb and index finger, a smile beginning up her face, her voice softening to something almost friendly. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

Taking the mudhorn between your own fingers as you looked at it, you grinned. “Just a few days ago he couldn’t stand me, believe it or not.”

“Not,” Fennec huffed on a laugh, turning to look at you after another moment of silence. “I’ve known Mando for a while now, and he’s just…. like that. It’s hard for him to show his emotions sometimes. Boba, too. The way they grew up…. Well, I don’t have to tell you. I’m assuming you probably had the same type of childhood.”

Hesitating, you finally nodded briefly, looking down to your hands in your lap where you sat on the floor beside her.

“They don’t trust easily, they love fiercely, and they don’t do anything halfway. It’s all they’ve known. If you’re lucky enough to be welcomed into their circle,” she tugged the pendant lightly, “into their family,” she sat back as she continued, “there’s something special they see in you, something worthwhile, and you just need to keep being yourself to live up to that everyday.”

When you lifted your visor back up to meet her eyes, she smiled kindly.

“So, like I said, not. He was probably just watching and waiting for the right time.”

“Grogu is my little shadow. I think he was just relieved someone bought him five minutes alone.”

She threw her head back and laughed, her hand lightly gripping your upper arm. When her gaze landed back on you, a mischievous smirk took over her features. “I could be wrong. Maybe he was just waiting to ask you to be a babysitter full time,” you snickered, “but I’m thinking that signet tells a different story.”

Fennec reached into her pocket for her comm, mumbling something about needing to call Boba, but you held up your hand to stop her. “I have a secure connection straight to the comm in Mando’s helmet. Guaranteed private, and he’s with Boba. Let me call him and relay the information.”

She nodded, tucking her comm back into her belt.

Pressing the side of your helmet, you waited until you heard it connect. “Mando?”

“Ti? Everything alright?”

Pressing a button on your vambrace to project the conversation through your modulator so Fennec could hear, too, you nodded. “Yeah, we’re fine. We found the credits. What should we do now?”

“Hold on, I’ll ask him.” Silence filled the room before he came back. “How much is there?”

“Enough to fund your life on the run for over a decade, comfortably,” Fennec said dryly, her eyes darting across the pile of credits as she did some quick math. “Very comfortably.”

Silence again filled the line as you assumed he was relaying the amount to Boba in a much more concise manner. Finally his voice crackled back over the line. “He said he’ll send the Mods to come pick it up. Wait for them then leave and go back to the hangar when they get there.”

“They don’t need protection?” You had no idea who they were, but this was a lot of money to just let someone move without any sort of backup.

Fennec grinned. “They can take care of themselves.”

Xxx

The Mods dropped it off at the hangar a few hours later and left, leaving the five of you standing around the two containers, staring in silence at the mass of credits just sitting there.

Peli let out a low whistle like you had when you’d found the stash.

“How does someone steal this much and not get noticed?” Din’s voice was thick with disbelief.

“Little by little,” you answered, looking up at him when you felt his visor turn to you.

Looking at him for the first time today without your own visor in the way, you scanned over his armor, noticing a few scorch marks, and some scuff marks near his jet pack.

You smiled. “Those Jawas really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Reaching out, you tried to rub one of the scuffs away with your glove, digging your thumb into his beskar.

Reaching up, he grabbed your wrist gently, turning it toward him with a soft grunt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, untying the knot he’d tied to keep your glove on earlier. He pulled something out of the pouch on his belt and began attaching it. “Fixed this for you.” When he let his hands fall to his sides after he finished, you saw it was the buckle he’d torn off this morning. “Don’t let R5 get this one,” he joked.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking up at him with a smile as he nodded at you before he turned back to the pile of credits. Your eyes darted across the containers in front of you to find Fennec already looking at you, a sly smirk already firmly on her face.

“Told ya,” she said lightly.

“What?” Boba asked, looking across his shoulder at her.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Nothing. I was just saying,” she gestured to the credits, her gaze falling back to them before lifting to yours. “I told ya it’s a lot.”

Boba nodded, turning back to the credits, not noticing the look Fennec gave you, eyebrows raised. “I’ve not heard anything about this money going missing from the other families. It could be they are just keeping it quiet, in which case, letting them know you know is just adding another enemy to your list.”

Din looked between the older man and Fennec. “So what do we do?”

Shrugging, Boba looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “Keep it.”

As he took a few steps back, Din shook his head, lifting his hands to begin gesturing as he spoke. “No. Absolutely not. We don’t need this much.”

Shrugging yet again, Boba sighed, arms crossing over his chest as he stared at the pile of credits like it was a problematic hyperdrive instead of the not so small fortune it was. “Fine.” He let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll take back what was stolen from me.”

Din took the few steps back toward the pile he’d pulled away. “That still is beyond too much.”

Turning to your friend who had been silent this whole exchange, you began speaking before either of the other Mandalorians could start in again. “Peli?” Her head snapped up to look at you, eyes wide. Separating a small stack of credits from the pile, you pushed them her way with the toe of your boot. “Would this cover your hangar fees for say, a year?”

Eyes wide, Peli gulped as she stared at the smaller pile, her gaze darting back up to yours as she nodded emphatically. “And then some.”

“Good.” Breaking off another pile just a bit larger, you added it to the first, Peli’s eyes going comically larger still. “Consider this payment for babysitting up till now, and keeping you on retainer for whenever we need to stop by, storing the N1, and watching Grogu.”

Peli stammered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she stared at the small mountain of credits at her feet. Her eyes lifted to meet yours before they shot to Din, then the child sleeping soundly in her arms before landing back on the credits, nodding rapidly again. “As far as I’m concerned, this makes us square.” She studied the pile for a moment, before adding softly, “For life.”

Din pulled his hand down the front of his helmet, letting out a sigh of exasperation “That still leaves quite a bit.”

You shrugged like Boba had, making the man chuckle. “Running isn’t cheap.”

With a heavy sigh, Din finally nodded, his hands resting on his hips, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the pile. “We still use it sparingly.”

You nodded. “Agreed.” He turned to look at you one more time. “We have to save some for the foundlings.”

“The foundlings are the future,” Din said quietly in agreement. “This is the way.”

All five of you turned away from the credits for the first time since they arrived, looking at Grogu where he slept in the cradle Peli had just set him in.

“This is the way.” The smile on your face that only came in the presence of the child wasn’t going anywhere. “The future is in amazing hands, then.”

“The best,” Din concurred.

Xxx

“Drop by anytime!” Peli called after Boba and Fennec, waving at them as they walked down the street after leaving the hangar. “Just remember to use the door next time. Maybe?” She flicked her wrist in front of her. “Bah. They heard me.”

Laughing softly, you gestured Grogu’s cradle up the ramp of the Crest, walking alongside it until you got to the bunk. Turning to lift him up, you set him in his hammock before gesturing the now empty cradle over to the corner.

Closing the door to the bunk, you turned to find Din just coming up the top of the ramp.

“He’s down.” You stretched, hands on your back as you let out a loud yawn. “And honestly I’m not that far behind him.” You smiled at the sound of Din’s chuckle. “Did the credits get stored?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re right there, below the bunks. It’s a false bottom.”

“Sounds good,” you yawned again. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed-”

“Wait,” he stopped you, making you turn back to face him from the small bit you’d already turned away. “I have something for you.”

He made his way over to another crate along the wall, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in the tarp you’d used to cover the pieces of the Amban rifle.

“While Boba was looking at the Crest yesterday, I asked him if he could help me get my hands on this for you. It needs a good cleaning, like everything else on this planet, but it’s in good shape, all the same.”

He pulled the material away from the object, and your breath caught in your chest.

A raw beskar jet pack, like his own.

“How-”

“They didn’t know what they had.” Repeating your words about the Amban rifle as he looked at the jet pack for a long moment, he tightened his grip on it, his leather gloves creaking in protest. Lifting his gaze to yours, he held it as he gently set the gift in your hands. “But I do.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you. He wasn’t talking about the jet pack anymore, at least not just about that. It was as close to a complement as he was going to get, and that made a smirk start to twist up the side of your face.

Reaching behind you to attach the jet pack, Din reached out and pulled your cape gently to the side out of your way, releasing it when it sealed with a whirr.

“How fortunate for me, then.” Your voice was soft, much softer than you intended, but it fit.

Everything about this moment seemed fragile, precarious. But at the same time, something about it also seemed forged of steel, tempered and holding steady in the strongest of tests.

“Indeed.” He was smiling, you could tell.

It had only been days of truly spending time with him, but something about Din just clicked. You could read one another under the beskar or from across the city over a comm. Never had you felt so in tune with another being, and it felt like something special.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

It was unexpected, but you found yourself wrapping him in a quick embrace, arms around his neck as you pulled him close. He went stiff at first, but soon melted into the touch, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you impossibly closer still. Tightening your grip around him, you mumbled another thank you into his neck, the fabric of his flight suit rough against your skin as you pressed even closer, sighing into the warmth that was him.

This was different. This was new. It was exciting. But also terrifying.

Your feelings seemed to have gone rogue, pulling you into him without your permission, and keeping you there. But then again, his seemed to be doing the same, if the way his hands were spreading across the expanse of your back below the jet pack was any indication. It was drawing you both in, and holding you tight, not giving an inch.

Growing up in a society that kept a barrier between you and everyone else, it was just inherent to keep your distance. And you didn’t realize until right now, faced with what you’d been blatantly denied, that you realized just how much you needed it. Like the jet pack, it finally made you feel complete, the missing pieces falling into place to paint a beautiful picture of what could be if you just…. Let it.

Pulling back to look up into his visor, you smiled, hands falling to rest on his arms. “No, really. Thank you.” You gave him a gentle squeeze. “For everything.”

“I’d say you’re welcome, but since it’s your job to keep me alive, let’s just call it even.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “I’m good at my job.”

He chuckled softly. “And that’s the second time today you’ve said that.”

“And counting.” You grinned up at him, rolling your eyes when he groaned. Taking a few steps back, you headed for the ramp of the Crest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a jet pack to clean up.” You paused after a few steps, your eyes narrowing at him curiously. “Wait. You said you asked him for this before we even agreed to help them?”

Din nodded. “I know it’s something you’ve wanted. The Armorer mentioned as much right before everything happened, something about I needed to sign off on something…. I don’t know, to be honest, I hardly listened sometimes. It was all a bit….”

“Much?” You offered.

He sighed. “Yeah. Too much. One of the only things that helped make it easier was you, actually.”

You scoffed. “I thought for sure you hated me.”

He let out a huff. “Oh, I thought I did.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Believe me. I tried to convince myself I loathed you. But truthfully? We’re just too much alike, that I was frustrated that you were doing so well at your job and thinking of things before me.”

Grinning, you looked down at your feet before lifting your gaze back up to his visor. “What were the other things? You said that was ‘one of the only��….”

Din sighed, his hands resting on his belt as his weight shifted to one side. “Time with Grogu.”

“Of course,” you said, because obviously.

“And target practice.” You grimaced. “What?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, boss, but…. Right before everything happened, I may have beaten your high score at the range.”

He was silent, his hands moving from his belt to rest on his hips as he stood up straight, visor leveled on you. “You what?”

You began backing up slowly, holding up a finger and lightly waving it at him. “I’m good at what I do, remember?”

“That’s three.”

“No, that’s technically different.” Your feet hit the sand at the bottom of the ramp. Pointing over toward Peli’s shop, you began moving that way. “I’m gonna go get started.”

Din began down the ramp, his tone dry and amused. “Are you going to paint it? I can go get some tomorrow.”

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shook your head, scrunching your face up at the thought. “Nah. I think the raw beskar looks best. Plus it matches yours.”

Din shifted his weight to one side. “You want ours to look the same?”

You shrugged. “I like people knowing who I belong to.” Turning back to face the workshop, you went on. “Let’s make clan mudhorn…. What was the word Boba used for the ship? Ah! Sparkle.” You chuckled. “Shiny big ship, shiny tiny ship, shiny big Mando, shiny smaller Mando…. You see the theme?” Looking back over your shoulder, the smirk slid off your face when you didn’t see Din anywhere in the hangar. “Great. I’m talking to myself.”

With a sigh, you turned back toward the work area, only to run straight into a wall of beskar. “Dank farrik, Din!”

“If you belong to clan mudhorn, you’re not going to be sparkling.” Din unfastened your jet pack. “You’ll be dral.” He set it to the side. “Dralshy'a - ori'shya ka'ra.” (“Glowing.”) (“Brighter - more than stars.”)

You grinned. “Ni emuurir gar jate'shya.” (“I like yours better.”)

Xxx

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matchawrites-n-doodles · 2 years ago

Text

To Give Back

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Angry Mama

Masterlist

A/N: Here it is! Thank you for your patience! :> Reblogs and likes are always welcome, even comments. It’s also not really proof read (>v>)’

Summary: Din losts the kid to Moff Gideon and finds his way back to you.

Warning: Poor plushy :<, angst, swears, Vowldike because he is, if I miss any let me know

Words: 2,684 ____________________________________________________

Chapter 5: The Spruce Blue Armor

It was just a normal, decent morning on Nevarro, except it really isn't.

Your entire body jolted yourself awake, sitting up in cold sweat after a horrible dream.

The sounds of children screaming still ringing in your ears as you cover them in panic. Frantically looking around before realizing where you are, you stared down at your feet as your eyes widen in disbelief when the dream had you focused to one particular child. You couldn't see them but you could hear their cries of help. You gulped, trying to calm your breathing, squeezing your eyes tightly, shaking the empty vision from your mind.

You frown, not wanting to remember the dream you had. Although, there's really nothing to remember about except the screams echoing in your mind. There was just darkness and you standing alone in the middle of nowhere in just your sleepwear.

As your heart starts to calm, your hearing was still muffled by your hands, so you slowly let sounds fill through your ear canals and to your ear drums. This time you could hear actual children screaming, not in fear, but with joy and in childish play. You let out a stifled gasp since you've been holding your breath. Letting yourself breathe in through your nose properly and exhaling out through your mouth. You stared down at your hands as you slowly close and tighten them.

'What the hell was that about...?' You thought.

You sighed, moving to the edge of your bed, getting ready to start your day.

...

Later in the day...

He lost the kid.

His ship is destroyed.

What's worse is that Brenmar Vowldike is alive and works along side with Moff Gideon. But before Din met the holographic image of him, Din had brought Grogu to Tython. A planet that Ashoka Tano had told him to go to. A place where a jedi could locate them.

And through Ashoka, he finally found out Grogu's name.

While in Tython, Din had encountered with Boba Fett for the first time along with Fennec Shand who he thought was dead. They had some misunderstanding but after the attack by the Imperial stormtroopers, the decision was already made to help Din rescue the child.

Unfortunately, Din lost his ship and home, the Razor Crest.

All burnt to the ground but the beskar spear he received when he was in Corvus.

And a metal ball that used to be attached to a lever in the cockpit. Which would later be one of the only play things that Grogu liked so much along side with his plushy.

Only for its arm to be ripped out of its body when Grogu got taken away by force.

Luckily, Din was able to grab what's left of the toy, feeling disheartened to see its condition, knowing that Grogu would be upset right now since he has the arm. Now it's tucked away inside the small, buttoned bag attached to his belt along with the ball.

Lastly, the beskar armor. That spruce blue armor that he'd promised you he would take care of. Feeling slightly defeated when he sees it scattered everywhere, he shook it off as he picked up each part up. Shaking the ash off of the beskar and later tying them all together and slung it over his shoulder.

His worry starts to grow with each step. Grogu is probably terrified right now and since traveling with the foundling, Din formed a strong bond with him and even considered him to be his own. His mind playing back the image of when the kid was taken away from him while one of the droids stayed behind to play a holoprojector and instead of Moff Gideon, it was Brenmar Vowldike who introduced himself to Din.

And when he first saw the man, it was with burning rage Din had felt when he found out what Vowldike wanted. Who he wanted. He had already found out about you and Din and had demanded Din to find you and return you back to him since he's a bounty hunter himself. The longer he would have to wait, the sooner he would have to send other bounty hunters after you.

Like hell Din would let that happen. However, he knew he needed to find you as soon as possible, make sure you're in a safe location. For all he know, bounty hunters are probably after you right now.

Din didn't even need to stress about where to find you because when he arrived to Nevarro with Boba and Fennec, the first thing he saw was your ship.

He'd laugh bitterly at the quick timing and for some reason, he would feel ashamed to face you and to tell you that he had broken his promise in making sure the armor was taken care of. But he reminds himself that he is a Mandalorian. And as a Mandalorian, he must face his fears and conquer them.

Din sighed as he walked down the ramp of the ship. On his way to meet with Cara first to asked about a certain person from the prison registry who can help track down the ship that Grogu was taken to.

After his talk with Cara, who is now Marshal of the New Republic, they are now walking out of the building when Cara had brought you up about how you came over to the town just a few days ago. How you decided to settle down for a bit, give yourself a break after everything you've been through and it's just as what Din had expected when he first saw your ship.

"Wouldn't you like to see her before you go?" Cara had asked when she noticed how quiet her friend is when she mentioned you. Maybe she would be willing to help.

Din took a moment, feeling hesitant but he wanted to see you so he nodded once. "Where is she?"

"Here." Cara handed over your address to Din, smirking, "I'm sure she'd be happy to see you. She talks and asks about you a lot when she first came here. She's a pretty good one." She claimed, patting him on the shoulder.

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit." She elbowed his arm teasingly before setting off, leaving him alone.

Din felt his body froze, watching Cara walk off. You were asking about him? And what the hell was that supposed to mean? He looked down at the paper, suddenly feeling nervous.

...

He continued walking, looking left to right for the right house. Realizing how much farther he needed to go, he picked up the pace as time is ticking. The kid needs him. The kid needs you.

Picking up the pace once more, his hand went over to the small bag that has the plushy when he later realize he's in front of a house. And not just any house. Your house. A pretty small comfy home, located a bit farther away from the other homes. Which seems to suit you actually.

He's hesitant however. Standing in front of the door but his hand refused to move. What's he going to say? How are you going to react once you realize Grogu's gone? Would he have to relocate you? No, you're capable of taking care of yourself, seeing how you took down that thug long ago.

He sighed, letting his shoulders fall back and telling himself to calm down. He took a deep breath and as he was going to knock,

"Din?"

His fist paused mid-air when he heard your familiar voice.

"Din, is that you?" He turned and there you are, holding two bags of groceries. Seeing that bright smile of yours seemed to ease his nerves but the thought of the kid brings it back up. And the fact that the tiredness is shown through your eyes is quite alarming to him as well. However, he's still relieved to see that you're okay.

"Hey..."

Your smile began to get smaller as your eyes fill with worry which caused Din to frown. He didn't like that look but he knew it's going to get a lot worse once he tells you the real reason why he's here.

"What are you doing here? You missed me?" You asked, grinning as you walk up to him. Din's heart skipped a beat. Of course he does, but he didn't want to admit that aloud to you.

You find yourself searching around him and he would noticed.

"Where's... the kid?" You asked, sounding sad and assuming that they must of found a Jedi and parted ways. But as your eyes met with the black visor, your heart starts to thump harder.

Din felt your eyes meet his. He'd felt speechless and drawn to you by your appearance. Despite how tired you look, you being in a simple outfit and somehow, oddly enough, his mind became elsewhere. He snapped out of it when he noticed the confused look on your face, tilting your head at him for being silent for a while. He cleared his throat, placing his hand over his small bag and you watched, raising an eyebrow.

"I need to talk to you." He finally said.

You bit your lip and nodded. Something was wrong and you can feel that sickening feeling from this morning start to reappear in your stomach.

"Inside." You simply said and he nodded, standing aside to let you pass to your door. He watched as you fumbled with your groceries to one arm, making him grab both of them for you as he mumbled 'here'. You blinked, surprised before giving him a small smile, mumbling a 'thanks' back to him. You hurryingly grabbed your keys from your pocket and opened the door to your house and waltz right in with the metal man following behind.

Once he's in, you closed the door behind him, letting him know he can set the bags on the table.

You asked if he would like something to drink in which he would decline. So you only leaned on your table next to him on his right side. You looked at him and you could tell by his shoulders by how it's slumped that he's stressed out.

You took a second before placing your hand out in front of him for him to take. He took one look at it before grabbing your hand with his gloved one, squeezing gently and tightly.

"I'm guessing you're not here to just visit me, huh? Din?" You asked, despite the worry in your voice, it would always seem to bring comfort to Din, but he reminded himself that right now isn't the time. Grogu needs you. That he knows.

So to start, he pulled out the one armed plushy from his pocket and when you first saw it, you gasped taking it to examine the damage. If this was a different situation, Din would of chuckled when you mumbled, 'Oh no, Froggy.' You looked at him, eyes full of questions and concerns, and Din immediately knew what you were going to ask.

"It was Gideon. He has the kid." He looked back at you, starting to get serious and then placing his hands on the sides of your arms, "He has Grogu..."

The unfamiliar name made you tilt your head slightly at him. As soon as it clicked, your eyes widen and if this was a different situation, you would of been beaming right now. Realizing that Grogu is that kid's name.

"Grogu..." you repeated, feeling your heart wrenched. Din nodded.

"—And there's someone else and he's after you." He became hesitant before continuing, "I can bring you somewhere safe if you'd like-"

Shaking your head almost aggressively, you asked calmly, a hint of anger laced in your voice, "Who?" The stern look on your face made Din pause for a moment. You gave a clear message to him that there's no way, he's sending you away to somewhere safe. Not when Grogu's in trouble, that poor lil bean you love so much.

"It's Vowldike." As soon as his name slipped out, you froze.

Your hands tighten, nearly squeezing the plush but you stopped yourself before you damage it even more. This precious plushy belonged to the kid and you wouldn't want to ruin it. You felt raging heat rise from your chest, and instead of the fear you've been having all morning, it was rage. And Din could see the flames in your eyes and how you shook with anger.

"Vowldike's alive. That no good osi'yaim never stops, does he?" You scowled. You looked down at the plushy's dark eyes which reminded you of Grogu's. The way that lil bean looked up at you with a smile on his face.

You imagined the terrified look on his face when he got taken, making you winced and closed your eyes. You unconsciously move your head down forward and onto Din's shoulder. You brought the plush to your chest and cradling it like how you would with Grogu.

He'd froze but hearing you whimper out Grogu's name with worry caused him to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to him. His left arm around your waist and his right hand on your head gently, feeling a little awkward at the new and bizarre contact he would have with anyone besides the kid. Especially with someone like you, but since you didn't pull away, and grabbing hold on to his clothing, it encouraged him to hug you even tighter. "I'll get him back."

Your eyes opened, leaning more onto his shoulder. The rage you felt at the thought of Vowldike even touching Grogu's little wrinkly head never left and hearing Din say that he'll get him back alone, brought determination.

Yes, the thought of the man you despised of scared you... But the thought of him hurting someone you cared about is even greater. If Vowldike ever lays a hand on either Grogu or Din, or both, you going to make sure you'd be the last person he would ever see before his final breath.

"You mean we'll get him back." You let out, making Din look at you to see the expression on your face. A new side of you he has never seen. Anger, determined, hatred all at once.

You're not like the you from years ago from when he first saw you. All broken and beat down by the same man who made your life hell. Or the you who smiled and showed kindness to him and Grogu not too long ago.

No. You're not those all of those things, but you're still all of them. It's what makes you who you are. Right now is the type to give those who deserves what's coming. To give them hell and make them pay.

Din's lips parted at the sight of you, not at all weirded out, but in awed at how beautiful you looked.

As of right now, you couldn't really tell what Din is thinking. When he slowly loosens his arms around you, you realized what just happened and you looked down, feeling a little embarrassed, thinking about what he thinks of you now.

You huffed, feeling that enough is enough to feel this way. You rubbed your eyes to get rid of the dried up tears before backing a few inches from him. He tilt his head as his arms fell to his sides to see the pink on your cheeks as you turned your body away to head to your room.

"What are you doing...?" His words trailed off, hearing you rustling around in your room.

"We can't waste any more time." He hears that strong, determined tone in your voice, and with the thought of bringing back the kid, he kept his head up high as he crossed his arms over his chest with his shoulders squared.

Then he hears a loud thump from your staff hitting the ground and he watched as you walked back out of the room with said weapon and a satchel sling over your shoulder. Walking towards him with confidence.

"Let's get our kid back and go wipe the smile off of that rotten, dirty hut'uun and kill him, shall we?" You said with a smirk as you walked past the Mandalorian, patting him on the shoulder. Glancing at him as you do and he would watch.

He likes this side of you. In fact, he loves it.

Also did you just said 'their' kid?

————————————————————————

Chapter 7 Coming Soon…

Mando’a Translations:

osy’yaim: shithead, useless, despicable person

hu’tunn: coward (worst possible insult)

#mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #mando x you #for fun #grogu djarin #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #grogu #disney #togivebackseries #new chapter

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handspunyarns · 1 year ago

Text

You Were Marked: Day Fourteen (Din).

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 6.8K

chapter summary: Grogu teaches Din a game, Din requires privacy, and the Armorer has words with Din.

warnings:  angst, sexual situations, male masturbation and fantasizing, mention of suicide ideation, stomach illness, Mando'a and English cursing

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

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Din appropriated his jetpack back from Boba so he and Grogu would not have to ride the rattletrap speeder back to Peli’s. Boba was satisfied that Din had recovered enough from his concussion that he was no longer a menace to the skies. He touched down in Peli’s yard without stumbling — for once – and walked alongside his old ship, the Crest, trailing a hand along the fuselage. A pit droid crossed his path and he fought the urge to kick it sideways. The pit droid, already knowledgeable of the opinion of the irascible Mandalorian, skittered away quickly.

“Well, if it isn’t Mando and my favorite little tadpole!” Peli was walking towards him, shielding her eyes from the rising twin suns. Grogu cooed at the bushy-headed woman. “Going somewhere?” she asked.

“Heading to Nevarro for a couple days.”

“Your lady friend doing better?” Din did not answer, but set the side ramp of the Crest to open. “Well, does she have a name at least?”

Before Din could answer, Grogu piped up, shouting, “Mahr! Mahr! Mahr!”

Peli grinned. “So Mahr is the lady friend, huh?”

“Patu Mahr!” Grogu squealed.

Din blushed under his helmet. “She’s not my … lady fr ...”

“Mahr Patu!”

“Dank ferrik, Grogu …”

Peli laughed. “Well, Little Bug has an opinion on that, it seems. Go on, get outta here; the sooner you leave, the sooner you get back to your Mahr.”

“It’s … ah … Marathel. Her name is Marathel,” Din stammered before he rushed up the ramp with Grogu.

Peli stepped back out of range and watched the ship take off and head out into the atmosphere. She chuckled, and said to herself, “Not my lady friend, my fat ass.”

Din got the Crest off Tatooine without out a hitch; his muscle memory and smooth handling was back under control. As he was setting coordinates for Nevarro, he looked over his shoulder at Grogu, sitting in the aft chair with a smug look on his little wrinkled face. Din sighed. “Seriously? Patu Mahr?” Grogu squealed with glee. Din shook his head and turned back to the console. Not that the idea of Patu Mahr was a bad one, but … how could that even work? He — and now Grogu by extension — flew all over the damn galaxy, and Marathel could only thrive outdoors in the sunshine and fresh air. Even having a closed door frightened her. Locking her up in a metal box in the vacuum of space? Impossible.

She’s not even well yet, you osi’kovid. And you’re also assuming she will have anything to do with you, considering what’s been done to her.

He had to admire her, though; she’d managed to survive, even with all the odds stacked against her. The medical practices the rest of the galaxy used had little to no effect on her, yet she still lived. Although … he’d heard her tell Fennec that she didn’t want to.

Would you want to, after what she endured?

But she went in willingly, knowing fully what she faced.

And you know what that means … She was prepared to die before she walked through that gate. She’s wanted to die possibly for longer than you’ve known her.

Now that made Din pause. He knew he walked a fine line between life and death most days and had mentally prepared for his end since before he took the helmet. He’d stood beside his brothers and sisters, pledging to die alongside them with honor when that moment came. The very notion of being so far down in mental misery that death was preferable to living was beyond his comprehension. He thought back to what she’d told Grogu — he could hear perfectly what she’d told him; his helmet was excessively useful when it worked.

She told Grogu to grow up to be kind. And to take care of me, for I needed Grogu more than he needed me.

Din watched the striations of the stars in hyperspace. He thought back to when she and Grogu were digging out clams. Day Six. It had started out terribly with the nightmares and simply got worse.

‘I will be nowhere.’

Din realized with a start that she didn’t mean the planet Unmanarall, the Oldtalk word for Nowhere. She meant gone from this existence.

She told Fennec that she would rather live as a Belwhyn for one day and die, than live as a Whyn.

Haar’chak, what do those words mean?

Din sighed. He could hear Grogu climbing down from the aft chair with a little grunt. Out of the corner of his visor he saw two little hands reaching up towards the console. Without looking, Din dropped the throttle knob into Grogu’s waiting hands, and followed it up with one of the better ration bars. Grogu pouted — he was already missing Marathel’s cooking just as much as Din — but he took the bar anyway, and hefted himself back into the aft chair, munching away as he looked out the view screen. Din put his feet up on the console, relaxed, happy to be back in space. Din’s sleep schedule — such as it was — was still off, and since he was still recovering from his concussions, he nodded off quite quickly. Almost immediately, he began to dream. And of course, he dreamed of Marathel.

It was just a gentle dream of her, sitting still, outside somewhere, the sun illuminating her from behind, and her hair was caught in the wind, billowing across her face, obscuring her features. Her eyes would slowly shift up to look at him, but right before their eyes would lock on each other, her position would change, as if her image was on a stuttering holo-disk message, and her eyes would be far away again. Her face looked serene early in his dream, but looked more and more distressed as the dream went on. The last image he caught of her, she was hunched over as she sat, her arms crossed over her chest, her hands clutching her shoulders, her knees tightly held together. Her head raised up to look at him, and he could see tears on her cheeks, but the image stuttered again, and Din suddenly woke up. He caught his breath, hoping that the dream was not a portent of doom, that Marathel was all right, then deciding that Fennec or Cobb would contact him if something was wrong.

Checking the console, Din saw that he had been asleep for a good couple hours. He wondered if Grogu had been awake and alone that whole time. The idea concerned Din; he’d rather be awake when the boy was to at least be interacting with him. Din wondered idly if a nanny wouldn’t be a good idea, and then wondered why he should engage a nanny when he had Marathel. He then reminded himself he in no way had Marathel; her recovery was still in the early days yet. And then beyond her recovery …

One kriffing thing at a kriffing time, remember?

Din got up from his chair, stretching. He turned to see if Grogu was still in the cockpit; he wasn’t. Din could hear squeaks down in the main part of the ship, so he climbed down the ladder and saw Grogu running in circles. Grogu looked up and squealed at Din’s presence. Grogu ran up to Din, jumped up and down, and then took off, running away. Din stood still and watched him go. Grogu stopped and looked at Din expectantly. Din tilted his helmet. Grogu looked down with a harumph, and then ran back to Din, jumped again, and took off again. Din watched, confused. “What is it you want me to do, kid?” Grogu stopped running, and looked back at Din, frowning. “I don’t get it,” said Din. Grogu grunted and stomped all the way back to Din. Glaring at Din’s helmet, Grogu jumped up and down. “Okay,” said Din. Grogu turned away but looked over his shoulder. “Uh-huh,” said Din. Grogu lifted his leg, as if he were going to start running again. “Did you want me to chase you?”

Grogu threw up his little hands. “Mee-YAH!” he shouted, and he began to run. Okay, then, thought Din, and he gave chase. The two ran back and forth, up and down the corridor, Din laughing in spite of himself, and then Grogu suddenly sat down. Din slid to a stop, looking down at Grogu. Grogu looked back up at him. The two males stared at each other for some time. Finally, Din sat down as well, and Grogu sighed with the beginnings of an eye roll. Din pulled his chin back, surprised. Grogu’s facial vocabulary had been expanding quite a lot over the past couple of weeks, and he felt that Marathel had a lot to do with it. It wasn’t as if Grogu could learn expressions from him; not with the helmet obscuring his face. Din shrugged. “So now what, kid?” Grogu pointed at him. Din pointed at himself. “Me? I don’t get you.” Grogu kept pointing at Din. “Are we playing that running game of yours and Marathel’s? I don’t understand the rules, kid! We were just running, and now you’re sitting down, pointing at me, like I’m supposed to know what comes next!” Grogu tilted his head at Din, much like Din often did towards the boy. Then Grogu pointed at Din again. “I still don’t understand, boy. You had us running, and now you’re pointing at me …” It finally dawned on Din. “You’re telling me … it’s my turn? I have to say what we’re doing next?” Grogu squeaked at Din. “That’s it? You do something for a while, and then the next person comes up with the next thing to do?” Grogu squeaked again. “But that’s … that’s ridiculous! What kind of game do you play where you make up the rules as you go along?” Grogu looked expectantly at Din, who realized that it was exactly the kind of game Marathel would teach the boy to play. Imagination was more important than rules to a child.

“So … my turn, huh? All right, then … uh …” Din stood up. “Time to jump backwards, then.” Din jumped back about a foot, feet together, swinging his arms. Grogu looked at Din, frowning. “Are you playing or not, kid? Otherwise, I’m looking stupid, jumping backwards like this.” Din jumped back twice more before Grogu hopped up and copied Din’s jump. Din jumped again, and Grogu followed suit. “Okay, then, let’s do this,” Din said with a grin, jumping backwards until he reached the wall, Grogu jumping alongside. Around and around they went, until Grogu decided that spinning in circles was a better move. After a while, after they both got incredibly dizzy, Din tried skipping, feeling even more ridiculous, skipping in full armor and weapons. Grogu thought it was great fun, though, and the skipping went on for quite some time, making Din mutter, “C’mon kid, give me a break here.” Grogu finally stopped skipping, opting to do a most silly walk wherein he stood with one leg out behind him, and then slowly rotated the upraised leg to the front, then stepped down on the upraised foot, repeating the process on the other leg. “You’re kidding me,” said Din, but he complied for a short while, half-wishing he’d gotten this whole escapade on holo, just to show Marathel and make her laugh. Finally, Din decided to pull Marathel’s signature move, pretending that he had no bones, dropping to the floor like a rock. Grogu chattered and pulled at Din’s arm in vain, while Din said, “No good, kid, gravity has doubled today,” before grabbing Grogu and tickling him mercilessly. Grogu squealed and shrieked before climbing on top of Din, jumping on his chest. “Ugh! You win, kid, you have me pinned!” Grogu giggled and flopped on his belly, grabbing at Din’s helmet. Din laughed and rubbed the child’s back. “That was fun. Maybe we can play with Mahr when we get back.” Grogu cooed in affirmation, then yawned. Din continued to rub the boy’s back and thought about that tune Marathel hummed to Grogu. Din remembered the melody well, but he despised the words, probably as much as Marathel did. He vaguely remembered a Mando’a lullaby, now that he thought about it. How did it go? Din finally caught the tune in his head, and he quietly sang:

“Nuhoy, ad'ika Gar ner cyar'ika Ni ja'haili'gar Akay vaar'tur

Nuhoy, ad'ika Gar ner cyar'ika Ni laarari'gar Akay vaar'tur

Nuhoy, ad'ika Gar ner cyar'ika Ni cabuor gar Akay vaar'tur…”

Surprised that he remembered the lullaby, Din lifted his head to see that it actually worked: Grogu was out like a light, despite his lack of singing ability. He’d have to tell Marathel. Din carefully stood and carried Grogu to his little hammock in Din’s sleeping quarters. Grogu snuggled down immediately, with only one ear outside the soft blanket. Din tucked the soft frog stuffie under the edge of the blanket just in case. On impulse, Din lifted his helmet enough to kiss Grogu’s fuzzy head, which brought a smile to his face. There was something to be said for this physical affection stuff, he thought.

Din noticed that he had forgotten to get a new bed roll, and he groaned. This meant he’d have to sleep in his captain’s chair. It was comfortable enough, but it would inevitably put a crick in his back. First thing on Nevarro, buying a new damn bedroll. A good one this time, too. He turned off the light in the small room and dimmed the lights in the corridor. Din climbed up into the cockpit and lowered the lights there as well. He put his feet back on the console, interlaced his fingers, and sighed.

His thoughts went almost immediately to Marathel. After almost a fortnight of intense closeness to her, he felt the loss of her presence. He hoped she was doing well. He thought about sending a holotext but he’d only been gone for a few hours, and he didn’t want to seem lonely and desperate. He could cover it up by saying Grogu needed her, but the kid was sleeping, and anyway, Grogu was excited by the journey back to Nevarro and did not seem to be pining for his Mahr at all. When we get to Nevarro, maybe then we can let her know we’re safe.

Din wished he knew what to do about her. Technically, she had been correct: she knew nothing about how the galaxy worked. Her limited experience must make everything terrifying to her. The one place she seemed at home was in the kitchen. Din was not strict on gender roles in any way, but he believed in playing to one’s strengths … and that bread making skill of hers was one hell of an asset. Her skill in textiles was another. All those women and girls on that planet of hers …they were uneducated but seemed smart as whips and were fiercely protective of each other, just as he would expect from any warrior. And that Lorica, spitting on his boot like that. If he hadn’t been wearing a helmet, he supposed she would have spit right in his eye, and it would have stung.

Could anything be done for those women?

He didn’t know. The planet was so far off the radar of the Empire and the Republic alike; there was absolutely no sign of either faction there at all. It was as if the Hold had dropped out of the sky, fully formed with the Round Building looming over the courtyard. But there was no forge, so where did the weapons come from? They all looked ceremonial in nature apart from the beskar hammer. Where in shab did that come from? The Aurodium coins? It made no sense.

Din did have one idea, though, and he coded it into a holo-text to Greef Karga. He would be seeing him tomorrow, and hopefully he would have an answer for him by then. Hopefully.

Din briefly wished he were heading back to Unmanarall to face that Captain, the Bishop, to get some answers and give a serious beat-down to all the men who’d laid a hand on his Marathel.

He wished Marathel to be with him while he meted out his justice in her name and tell him precisely how she wanted each one to die.

He wished he had been able to bring himself out of his hut’tuun frozen state and just pulled her out of that hellhole.

He wished he had kissed her when he had the chance, not just when she was unconscious and on the brink of death.

He wished he had fully undressed her — her warm, soft, soft body — when she allowed him to touch her, and allowed her to touch him back, to feel her hands on his body and surrender himself to the touch of another person … something he continually denied himself.

He wished he had removed his helmet for her, made love with her, fully undressed rather than just removing enough clothing necessary for the sex act, reveling in her skin with his own, oh, her beautiful skin, to kiss all that fabulous skin, to nuzzle against it, to get her scent and exchange it with his own by moving his cheek and lips over her voluptuous body as she had his, to lift her soft, heavy breasts with the palms of his bare hands, to feel the different skin textures from her pebbly areolas to the hard nubs of her nipples with his thumbs, to suckle at those nipples and savor them with his tongue, to kiss her rounded belly and curve his hands over the swells of her hips and her buttocks, to move his mouth down her abdomen to between her supple thighs, to let his tongue open her delicate nether lips and dance on the bud of her clitoris with his nose sweeping through the soft thatch of silver curls, grasping the sweet globes of her magnificent ass in his hands, breathing in the sweet scent of her cream that he had once been privileged to smell off her fingertips, her hands, her hands, such strong gentle fingers touching his hair as he lingered at the apex of her legs, and him kissing the tip of each finger before returning to the chalice of her sex, sipping at her opening before lathering his tongue over her entire inner area, so warm and soft and wet, her taste so sweet and just slightly musky, and then he realized he was palming his erection through his pants, exposed out here in the cockpit when Grogu could wake up and find him in here like this. He’d never had to concern himself with privacy before the kid arrived, and it galled him to some degree he had to think about it, but he had to do something right damn now.

Din hopped down the ladder and headed straight for the shower cubicle, locking himself inside. He flipped on the water option, wasteful, yes, but sonic was not the way to go right now. Liquid oxygen would be preferable. Stripping himself as quickly as possible, he stepped under the cool spray and took himself in hand, stroking as slowly and gently as he could manage. Even with the water, the friction was still too uncomfortable, but he didn’t think he had any kind of lubricant in the shower, just in the bin closest to his bed roll, and wait, was that bin locked against a curious toddler? And dank ferrik, man, why was he thinking about that now? He tore open the storage bin inside the shower, knocking bottles aside and on the floor, discarding the soap and shampoo, he’d tried that once, just once, and never again, thank you very much, but at the very back was a small bottle of lubricant he’d forgotten about, and relieved, he filled his palm with the pleasant-smelling lubricant, and finally set himself back to stroking, picturing the naked Marathel lying beneath him on the wooden floor of her hut, those creamy breasts of hers heaving, then her on top of him, his cock in her mouth, breathing on him, only breathing, wishing she had used her tongue, her lips on him, wishing he had let her pleasure him as they’d pleasured her together, those full lips of hers, how soft, haar’chak, that pussy of hers, so hot, always so damn wet, she’d always been ready for him, a perfect fit for his cock, so tight and yet yielding at the same damn time, clenching down on him when he was inside her, and she always came so hard, so hard he wondered if the other women he’d been with had been faking it the whole damn time, he was not a practiced lover by any means, just functional at the sex act, he didn’t even know how to kiss properly, Cobb had to teach him how, but he knew if he could just get back to Marathel, if Marathel would come back to him, perhaps they could both learn together, and it would be so damn good, so much better than fisting himself in this fucking shower, and his strokes got faster and harder as he pressed his forehead against the wall, and he was just about there, and he thought of her face and how it looked when she came, her cries of pleasure, the odd tear leaking from her eyes, her long strong legs flexing their muscles and going rigid, the quiver of her body, particularly her pussy clenching even harder on him, and he finally came himself, grunting loudly and spattering the shower wall with ejaculate, twice, three times, and a weak fourth time before finally feeling spent, and he rested against the shower wall, breathing hard, wondering to himself when was the last time he’d masturbated to a fantasy rather than just getting the job done, as it were, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Din puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled. He washed his hair and finished cleaning himself, since he was in there anyway, giving the shower itself a bit of a clean at the same time. After turning off the water, Din realized a couple of things: there were no towels in here, and in his haste to get undressed he had left all his clothes on the floor, and they were now all wet.

Haar’chak.

Din pulled on his flight pants, which were uncomfortably wet and cold on his bare skin and placed the helmet on his head. Catching his reflection in the durasteel mirror, he thought, yup, I’m a dumbass and then dripped his way back to his quarters, leaning inside to grab towels from the bin closest to the door. Grogu was quietly snoring. He also found a fresh set of thermals and padded back to the shower cubicle, kicking the wet clothing and armor out into the corridor before shutting himself inside again.

Din roughly rubbed his hair with the towel, leaving it unruly and sticking up in all directions as he considered his face in the mirror. He didn’t know handsome from a hole in the ground, and he had his father’s hooked nose and the lines between his brows, but his mother seemed to think his father handsome, so he guessed if he resembled his father that would be good enough. His mother, of course, was beautiful, as dark as Marathel was fair, and his father was forever touching her cheek, holding her hand, rubbing her back. Once he had woken up in the night, hearing his parents’ laughter in the kitchen, and he snuck out to see for himself, and peered through the cracked-open door. His father was on his knees on the floor, and he was washing her feet. Her feet always hurt, and she stood practically all day, and here was his father, gently soaping and massaging his wife’s sore feet as they laughed and talked about their day. Young Din went back to bed, thinking that if you were willing to wash someone’s feet, it had to be love.

Din smiled at the memory. Feet, indeed. He combed his hair, dressed in his fresh thermals, replaced his helmet, and hung up his wet flight suit to dry. He set out his armor in the corridor so that he could clean and polish it after getting a couple hours’ sleep. He checked on Grogu, grabbed a pair of Marathel’s socks, and went back into the cockpit for a long nap, thinking about Marathel’s feet, and wondering if she’d let him wash them for her.

It was early evening on Nevarro when he landed on the edge of his covert. Din had cleaned and polished his armor, even the damaged helmet, and had fully dressed himself in armor and weaponry, including the Darksaber, and hooking the marchwyl on his belt. He hated the Darksaber, and the marchwyl even more than that, but he figured he could at least get rid of one of them on this trip … that is, if the Armorer would deign to see him, an apostate.

Din stepped forward with Grogu on his arm. The youngsters came running forward, happy to see their little green friend again. Din set Grogu on the sand, and he immediately ran off to join the others. Some adults nodded at Din in greeting while others looked at him with a only a motionless gaze. Din stepped up to the opening into the catacombs and was met by the imposing figure of Paz Visla. “Paz.”

“Apostate.”

So that’s how it’s going to be. “I wish to speak to Armorer.”

“No.”

“My helmet is badly damaged, and I bring bounties for the good of the covert.”

“Have you bathed in the sacred waters of Mandalore?”

Din bit his lip before he said something he regretted. “I have not.”

“Perhaps you should do that first,” sneered Paz.

“I believe a compromised helmet would be a barrier to Din Djarin redeeming himself,” called the Armorer from deep inside the entrance tunnel. “Show me your helmet, Din Djarin.” Din obediently turned to show the Armorer the deep divot. “What caused this?”

“This beskar hammer,” replied Din, turning back to face the Armorer, and removing the hammer from his belt. “It is called the marchwyl. I bring it, as well as a valuable bounty, from the planet Unmanarall.”

“You have a habit of finding beskar weapons where there should be none. I take it your helmet no longer has any capabilities?”

“It does not.”

“Well, then, follow close behind me. Let’s discuss this more.” Din, as always, resisted to urge to roll his eyes as he walked by Paz as they entered the catacombs. “I thought you were on your way to Mandalore.”

“I had this opportunity come up. I couldn’t pass up what they offered.”

“And what was that?”

“Old Republic Ossum Aurodium coins.”

“Who is this person who commands such an exorbitant price?”

“A woman.” Din did not want to expand on that at the moment. He could just see the Armorer slowly look over her shoulder and then turn back.

“I see.” When they reached the forge, Din presented the beskar hammer to her. “What did you call this again?”

“The marchwyl.”

“Where did you come by it?”

“A planet called Unmanarall, out on the very far edge of the galaxy.”

The Armorer wasn’t sure if she was bemused or annoyed by Din’s truncated answers, but she carried on her questions as she lit the forge. “How did you come by it?”

“The woman, she … she sacrificed herself for me to get the coins. Her kinswomen brought me the hammer.”

“You carry much guilt about these women.”

Din took a breath. “I do.”

The Armorer assessed the weapon in her hands. “Whose blood is this?” she asked.

Din knew that the Armorer knew the answer to her question but was forcing the answer from him. Finally, he said, just loud enough to be heard over the forge, “Hers.”

“Did she suffer?”

“Yes.”

“Was her suffering a dishonorable thing?”

“Yes.” He could not have been more emphatic.

“Did you fight on her behalf?”

Din swallowed twice before he was able to answer. “No.”

The Armorer’s voice never changed its cadence, was not judgmental, as she asked, “Why not?”

And Din felt his soul shrivel; how could he reveal this most childish of reasons for not protecting someone so vulnerable? Yet he had to in order to remain on a path to absolution. “She told me not to.”

The Armorer gazed at him, silently, for an uncomfortably interminable time before she said, “Show me your helmet.” Din turned. He felt her hands examine the damaged area. “And this hammer caused this much damage?”

“Yes.”

“You were injured?”

“Yes.”

She stood silently behind him for a while, and then turned to the forge. “Go to the lower level and enter a meditation chamber. Leave your helmet in the doorway and wait. Think.”

“You will use the marchwyl …?”

“If what has caused damage becomes part of the repair, does it redeem itself?”

Din couldn’t answer that. “Grogu?”

“With Paz’s family.” Din nodded. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Din turned and made his way down to a sub-level. It was cool down there due to natural wind tunnels in the cave system. He chose a dark doorway, entered, and removed his helmet, leaving it in the doorway as told. The chamber was long and narrow, and there was no door. Anyone who entered was in darkness, and no one went out into the lighted corridor without a helmet. Din made his way to the far end, trailing his fingers along both walls, for the chamber was so narrow it was less wide than the span of his arms. At the far end was a narrow cot, and no creature comforts. Perfect for meditation without distraction. He sat down where the floor met the far wall and gazed towards the open doorway. Someone came and took his helmet away, while Din thought about how he would now be carrying Marathel’s blood on his helmet for the rest of his life.

Din had no knowledge of how long he sat in darkness. He did have the opportunity to think about many things several times over. Some of his answers depended on a certain woman. Some depended on the existence of the sacred waters of Mandalore. He lifted his eyes when he heard echoing footsteps. A silhouette placed a helmet in the open doorway. Din waited until the footsteps were gone. Coming forward, he saw the dark visor, in a field of gleaming beskar, look back at him. He tried to consider the point of view of a frightened woman upon seeing this helmet for the first time. Of having to interact with only this beskar face, a suit of armor, gloved hands, when she only knew men by the pain and degradation they caused her. And then to have this blank face deny her and tell her that any affection he held for her was less than his devotion to his Creed — something she couldn’t possibly begin to understand — and then still demand her affection towards him.

He placed the helmet on his head and turned it on with the controls on his vambrace. All the screens flared to life, going through all the options and calibrating before returning to Din’s standard options. He felt the back of the helmet, feeling only seamless metal, with no tactile evidence of a repair. He stepped out of the cell and made his way back to the forge.

“Is the helmet back to proper working condition?” the Armorer asked without turning from her forge.

“Yes. It is.”

“Let us discuss the bounty you received for this woman.” Din silently handed the Armorer the cloth bag, and she spread some of the coins out on the table. “For what reason was the bounty placed?”

“The woman was the … intended of one of the Elders of her people. She had been living for some time without fulfilling that expectation.”

“So, you completed this mission?”

“Yes.”

“So, the woman is with her intended.”

Din shifted slightly. “No.”

The Armorer looked up in surprise. “No?”

“She … she is on Tatooine, receiving medical care.”

“So, you … completed the mission on one hand, and not on the other?”

“She suffered …”

“Does she have a name?” asked the Armorer, and Din could swear she stood three inches taller.

“Her name is Marathel.” The Armorer stood motionless, waiting for Din to continue. “Marathel suffered greatly for me to collect those coins. She condemned herself to death for my benefit, for the benefit of this covert.” Din took a breath. “I failed to help her. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim. Ni cuy’ hut’uun.”

The Armorer stood still, letting Din’s confession of his inaction and his cowardice hang in the sweltering air of the forge. “Was Marathel deserving of this death?”

“No one is deserving of what she endured.”

“Marathel compelled you to not take up your weapons?”

“She compelled me to remove my weapons altogether, and to be still.” Din dropped his head. “Marathel was a victim of exceptional cruelty and nearly died due to my cowardice.”

“And what is it you seek here?”

“Absolution. And the knowledge that Marathel did not suffer in vain.”

The Armorer looked down at the coins, which reflected the fire’s glow. “This bounty is not yours. The covert will not accept it.”

Din was struck silent for several seconds. “What?”

The Armorer put all the coins back in the bag and tied it shut. “This bounty was not yours to receive. It is stained with the blood and suffering of the innocent Marathel. The bounty is hers.” She placed the bag in front of Din. “These must go to their rightful owner. This is the way.”

Din automatically began, “This is the …” He looked down at the bag. “Then it was pointless after all.” He looked back at the Armorer. “How am I to tell her? How can I look her in the eyes and tell her that her sacrifice meant nothing? She will … this will destroy what is left of her!”

The Armorer gazed coolly at Din. “You have salvaged your honor by returning the stolen beskar to us. To keep the coins would be dishonorable. Go now, Apostate Din Djarin. Find your path and follow it to find your absolution. This is the way.”

For the first time since he entered this covert as a child, Din refused to respond to the call of his people. He took the bag of coins, shoved it behind his cuirass, and left the forge without a word.

The Armorer sat and considered what Din said of himself: Ni cuy’ osi’yaim — I am a despicable person. Ni cuy’ hut’uun — I am a coward. He was always his own worst detractor, she thought. Every failure, every misstep, was taken so deeply into Din’s heart that he wore shame like he wore his cape. If there is anyone who is deserving of She Cin Vhetin — a clean slate, a new beginning — it is Din Djarin. As she went back to her forge, the Armorer then considered this Marathel, an aruetii — an outsider, who was willing to lay down her life for a Mandalorian. The Armorer, certain of her decision to not accept the bounty, wished her well.

Din stalked out of the deep catacombs and into one of the larger common areas. Scanning over the group, he did not see Grogu or Paz among them. Din remembered where Paz quartered so he headed in that direction. Before he knocked on the door, Din swore he heard laughter behind it. Laughing? Din knocked and the laughter ceased immediately. After a moment, the door slid open, and the imposing figure of Paz filled it. The two men looked at each other briefly before Paz stepped back to allow Din to enter. Ragnar, Paz’s young son, was seated on a large cushion, and he was concentrating on throwing a sour berry in Grogu’s direction. Ragnar tossed the berry high above Grogu’s head, but Grogu stopped the berry mid-air, allowing it to then drop directly into his open mouth. Grogu grinned at Din with berry-stained teeth and mouth, juice drips down his shirt. Din put his hands on his hips and sighed inwardly; now he had to potentially deal with the kid having a major case of the trots, depending on how many berries he’d eaten.

“Your helmet is now repaired?”

Din nodded. “Thank you for watching Grogu.” Paz grunted, and Ragnar threw another berry. “Ragnar has grown into a fine lad.”

“Your green child is spoiled.”

“He is good at bending people to his will. Come, Grogu.” Grogu hopped up and ran to Din’s feet. Din lifted the boy and set him on his arm, wiping his mouth with the edge of his cape.

Paz grunted again, then said in possibly the kindest tone Din had ever heard from the larger man, “I hope you are able to redeem yourself on Mandalore. I hope the waters are still there.” Din looked at Paz in surprise. Paz reached out to his son. “Come, Ragnar, it is time to sleep.”

“Jate ca, Paz, gedet'ye,” said Din.

“Naas wadaas.”

Din left the catacombs, and returned to the ship, not because he didn’t have a place to sleep at the covert — he did; there was always room for another in the covert — but he thought it would be better in case Grogu did end up with the trots from eating all those berries … and unfortunately he was right. He got to spend a good part of the night sitting on a crate, holding Grogu over the vac tube. Thanks, Paz. Grogu had a stomach of beskar for spicy food and amphibians, but too much fresh fruit ran right through the kid with disastrous results. Marathel would probably have a pithy Oldtalk phrase about this situation — like shit through a gochgoch or something equally as ridiculous — and make a mug of her stomach tea. Din missed sitting on her steps, missed her mugs of tea. He missed her. He had no idea how he was going to tell her that the covert wouldn’t accept the Aurodium … or if he should tell her.

“You empty yet, kid?” Grogu’s stomach grumbled in response. “That sounds a lot like your hungry noise, but I’m not trusting your stomach while your back end is acting like that.” Din heard a beep noise from the cockpit that sounded like an incoming message. He grabbed the old towel at his feet and wrapped the naked boy’s bottom with it, hoping for a respite from the diarrhea. It’s always something, thought Din. He climbed up the ladder one-handed and punched the button for the message.

BF: Marathel wants to know if Grogu is okay

Din smiled, happy to know she was worried about them. He tapped out a message.

DD: Grogu has an upset stomach BF: Marathel asked what happened to his stomach of beskar DD: compromised by fruit BF: Marathel wishes you the best of luck

Din frowned, wondering why Boba was transcribing Marathel’s message instead of her doing it herself.

DD: Thank you Marathel

There was a long pause, so long that Din believed that the conversation was over. He took Grogu — now apparently over his Tatooine two-step — back down out of the cockpit to get him bathed. Din had just distracted Grogu with a cracker so he could dress the boy when he heard the beep from the cockpit again. He got Grogu settled back into his little hammock and whispered Mando’a into the boy’s ear. After setting the lights on the lower level, Din climbed into the cockpit and checked the message.

BF: The Modifier’s contact came through; treatment seems to be working

Din took a breath. She’ll live.

Next Chapter ->

Translation for Din’s lullaby:

Sleep, little one You are my sweetheart I will watch over you Until morning Sleep, little one You are my sweetheart I will sing to you Until morning Sleep, little one You are my sweetheart I will protect you Until morning

Lullaby written by @themischiefoftad on Tumblr

#the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #din djarin series #starwarsficnetwork #din djarin angst #mando angst #din x fem oc #mando x fem oc #mando x oc #din djarin x fem oc #star wars fanfiction #mandalorian smut

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skywalker-swift · 2 years ago

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Ao3 Masterpost

Hi friends! I've decided to make a masterpost of all of my work on Ao3, where my username is casuallysavingtheworld. If you see a fic you recognize and didn't know it was me who wrote it, hi! My name is Kate, I write mostly Dinluke/Star Wars fanfic!

Currently, you have to be a registered user to leave comments on my works. This is because I've had a couple of shitty people hiding behind the internet being rude. If you do not have an ao3 account, but would like to say some nice things about my works, please send me an ask! I love talking to people about my writing. Kindness is always appreciate it!

This masterpost will be updated periodically with new works as I continue to write! Please read the tags of each story on Ao3 before reading.

Thank you!

wherever you stray, i follow series

Republic never fell, and Anakin didn't go to the Dark Side AU. Luke is an ambassador to Mandalore and Din is the Mand'alor.

wreck my plans, that's my man | Rated E | Part 1 -Dinluke, with background HanLeia, and super light Boba/Fennec and Cara/Bo-Katan Luke Skywalker-Naberrie is sent on a diplomatic mission to Mandalore, on behalf of the Republic. He plans on getting the work done and leaving as soon as he can after the two years is up, but that was before he meets the Mand'alor.

i take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover | Rated T | Part 2 -Dinluke, with background Anidala, Hanleia Anakin, quite frankly, is sick of his son’s shit.

(Luke comes back from a mission on Mandalore with a surprise, a husband and a child. Anakin doesn't know how to handle this.)

all along there was a invisible string tying you to me series

A golden string of fate soulmate AU.

one single thread of gold tied me to you | Rated T | Part 1 -Dinluke with background HanLeia Luke just sits and stares, as it’s all he can do, hoping one day, he’ll be able to follow his string, all the way to whoever is on the opposite end of it. He bets they’re beautiful, no matter what they look like. At night, in Luke’s dreams, he catches glimpses of deep brown eyes, a pre-empire ship, armor and a silver helmet.

(Luke Skywalker has a golden string attached to his finger, that floats into the sky, leading him somewhere, to someone. He's the only one who can see them. During the adventure of a lifetime, he searches for answers, eventually leading him exactly where he needs to be)

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven | Rated T | Part 2 -Dinluke, no background relationships He hates that he can see the strings, something he realizes no one else around him can do, and Din hates them. His string wants to lead him away from the things he’s come to know, the life he wants to live. He’s trying to be brave, god damn it, and the string keeps pulling and tugging, trying to get him to follow it.

(Din Djarin has a golden string attached to his finger, that floats into the sky, leading him somewhere. He's the only person he knows who can see them. He runs from it, hating that they exist, which leads him exactly where he's supposed to go.)

honey, life is just a classroom series

College AU series, with both Dinluke and RoseRey.

up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush | rated T | currently the only part, working on the next part! -RoseRey, with background DinLuke Professor Djarin looks disheveled. Professor Djarin never looks disheveled.

On one of the last Fridays of the semester, Professor Djarin is late to class. Rose wants to figure out why, and why he's acting so anxious, all while trying to keep sneaking glances at Rey, her long-time crush.

Where only the sweetest words remain

Hades/Persephone AU. I will not be writing more in this AU, series complete.

when suddenly I saw you | Rated T | Only one part of this series -Dinluke, no background relationships This story is about two people. One was considered life. The other was considered death. It starts like this. (Or a retelling of the story of Hades and Persephone, with Din as Hades and Luke as Persephone)

all's well that ends well to end up with you

Canon fix-it, post season 2 of the Mandalorian. Series completed.

what must it be like, to grow up so beautiful? | Rated T | Part 1 -Dinluke, background Hanleia if you squint Grinding his teeth down, Din was once again, grateful for his famed helmet to hide how he was really feeling. Leaning against a wall, away from the rest of the party guests, the party Leia had crafted, Din couldn’t help but think about the moments he realized he had feelings for the Jedi. (Din thinks about all the moments he realized he had feelings for a certain Jedi)

you drew stars all around my scars | Rated T | Part 2 -Dinluke, family relationships Din’s eyes catch the pale scars that line many parts of the Jedi’s body. They are all parts of Luke’s past, which led him here to this moment with Din.

#dinluke #roserey #skydalorian #reyrose #star wars #fic masterpost #fic rec

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chalterdh22 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 53: Is This the End?

This is the final chapter of this story. I truly love these characters and will hopefully continue writing adventures for them. Thanks for everyone that stayed with this story! This is the way!

We went to talk to the Armorer. After explaining what we wanted, she asked Din to remove his helmet for her, so she could look upon his face as a new man. She seemed quite pleased with our decision and helped us settle into our new quarters.

Grogu also seemed excited, although we weren’t sure he fully understood everything. But for him, life was a rollercoaster, so most things were fun to him.

I let my mom know what was going on, and she also seemed more pleased than usual. She even wanted to come and visit! Come to find out, she sold the ship we gave her for a ton of credits. She paid everything off and was able to work when she wanted to, not that she had too.

Greef was happy for us too, although he said he would miss having the reinforcements readily available. We were still allowed to go help fight when absolutely necessary, so he seemed content with that.

After deciding to become a clan of three, we had our vows down by the living waters. I didn’t know 90% of the people that attended, but at that moment, when we said our vows, Din officially removed his helmet in front of everyone to kiss me and seal our relationship. It was at that time I met Bo Katan, who I knew a lot from others’ stories.

She was very stoic like the rest of the Mandalorians, but seemed genuinely happy for us, as was everyone else. Mom was able to make it in and a few other of Din’s friends came as well.

He introduced me to Cara Dune, Fennec and Bobo Fett, amongst others. They seemed so happy for him, and he walked around with the biggest smile on his face as he greeted everyone and introduced me.

We were allowed to take a post marital vacation, just Din and me. We went back to Naboo, just the two of us.

It was a week of indescribable feelings, intimacy, and love for each other. I wouldn’t have had a more amazing time if I hand wrote it out myself. Truly, there are no words. We were on cloud nine and nothing could ruin this bond between us.

After returning from paradise, I was also recruited to be a teacher of sorts, with apprentices. Mine were to work with the older ones though, to help them read their environments, fight and be proactive in every way possible. It was amazing to see these kids grow! Grogu would eventually be in my class, so that will be special.

Din ended up being one of the most beloved trainers in all of Mandalore. He did work with everyone to be able to take apprentices out on little adventures with him that he was permitted to do. He also worked with the Republic on one off situations, and not as a hired hand under the table.

We still didn’t know who was going after Grogu’s blood, but like the Armorer said, it didn’t really matter because there would always be people from the Empire still trying to unlock Jedi secrets.

Grogu ended up being a big brother to our new addition. We had a girl and named her Dyna. Very early on, she and I had a bond, so I knew she had abilities like my own. We talked at length about sending her over to Luke to be trained as a Jedi. We still haven’t made that decision, but we do plan on making that trip to Yavin to discuss options. We knew what it would mean for us, to give up our daughter, and I wasn’t ready to make that decision. Din understood.

I would like to say after all this, we lived happily ever after, but that’s not even close to the truth. The truth is we had many more obstacles to face, loss to endure and frustrations to overcome. But one thing I can say is that we couldn’t have done it alone and we were glad we had such a family to lean on. Without them, our outcomes would be different.

What will our next adventure be with a toddler son and less than one year old to raise up? I can say that Din is an amazing father and an even better husband. All that story can be for another day. Until then, may the force be with you.

#pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #grogu djarin #mando

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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 2 years ago

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Its the end of the year! Which means its time to post the

Tags That Made Me Smile 2022

The following are a collective list of tags, author notes, and fic names that i saw on ao3 and tumblr that made me either laugh or smile. Ive separated them by fandom but a good amount arent actually fandom specific. Ive added the character names or fandom at the end like {name} to clarify who the tag is talking about

[2021's list]

Author Specific / Non-Specific

i saw canon; acknowledged it; And promply burned it in a dirty trash can thanks; Have this instead

Give me pain I need to feel something

this is self projection thank you coming to my ted talk

Whats that?? Overused tropes that everyone has seen before????? Pfffffffft. This fic is literally just a big mess of "how can I cater to myself and myself only"

you ever just look at your life and wonder how you got here; bc that's what this fic is for me

Don't underestimate me I DO NOT know how long this fan-fic will be

can you tell my target audience is myself

this is content specifically catered to me and no one else

these characters are my landlords and i pay them rent

P O L Y A M O R Y I S M Y P O L Y J A M O R Y

cheek kiss warning

kidnapping isn’t sexy don’t do it

i've never read the archie comics but that's not gonna stop me {archie sonic}

not me writing a whole fic for a ship only i care about; that like maybe two other people ship; rowing this boat is hard but someone has to do it {scourge x fleetway sonic}

ankles don't heal this fast but fuck it i do what i want

no beta we die like men; or rather we drown like the sad shipper with a pool noodle we are

I'm afraid of the Danimals mascot and you should be too

if you're getting flood warnings, don't worry. It's just MY TEARS!

me at every character: anxiety be upon ye

Me (Grabs canon and runs a marathon with it)

Quote: Do you think God stays in heaven because he too lives in fear of what he's created (Spy Kids) {tmnt crossover}

Alternate Universe - Monty Python and the Holy Grail

contains dangerous amount of bed based snuggling

(kind of its a very short very homosexual fight scene); and then they kiss.

Hostage situation takes a romantic turn???? Not clickbait????

enemies to frenemies

Improper Use of Pool Noodles

stone cold stoicism meeting determined stupidity

Star Wars

Kanan Jarrus: The Daddening

platonic love is what healed his lonely existence {din djarin}

when in doubt: road trip with the besties {din, boba, fennec}

Soul Eater

found family at its finest {kid, liz, patty}

The Witcher

wife (platonic) {yennskier}

at first I was like haha geralt and Istredd should kiss as a joke…. but bro I don’t think it’s a joke anymore….

Sonic the Hedgehog

Movie!Super Sonic is made out of LOVE no one touch me

Sonics gay awakening I guess

sonic movie 2 made me make an ao3 account lol

Sonic was made to love people

Two Bros Chillin’ in an ER Five Feet Apart ‘cause they’re not gay {sonic x shadow}

the most dangerous thing is to love {shadow}

Trapped in a small box with just enough room to face some feelings {sonic x shadow}

the R in rivalry stand for romance {sonic x shadow}

The L in Rivalry Stands For 'Love' {sonic x shadow}

A Largely Platonic Cave

i love boom!shadow so naturally i made him even more insufferable

Sad-ow

Wachowskis holdin it down in the bg; Absolute champs

I love how Shadow is just so mindbogglingly utterly done with reality

Knuckles is a guardian of all things great and small

“Would you kiss a worm?" “If he was cute as fuck? Yeah.” {wade x stone}

"What is this made of, bendable titanium?!" "INCORRECT. IT IS MADE OF THE FRUSTRATIONS OF MOTHERS EVERYWHERE." {team dark}

featuring a scourge that trips far too much because it's my fic and I said so {scourge x fleetway sonic}

no thoughts just soft hedgehog moments

listen if im going to die at the hands of injured lancelot shit i might as well take advantage of it

Everyone has a crush on Lancelot and I'll die on this hill

fairy Lancelot Fairy Lancelot FAIRY LANCELOT!!!

TMNT

Slow Burn; mostly on april's end of things; casey and donnie are basically on fire right off the bat {tmnt 2012}

Rise!Donnie and 2012!Casey be out there committing arson together for their first date >.>

Please enjoy Casey, the fool, realizing his feelings for Donnie, another fool {tmnt 2012}

Draxum and Splinter are the turtles' dads (it's a reluctant partnership)

just two absolute powerhouses holding each other gently {raph x mona}

“There’s nothing wrong with the way you love, Dee. Goodnight.” {rottmnt}

Wondering what to do when the apocalypse happens? Easy: fly across the country and get Vegas-married. That's definetley an appropriate reaction that won't involve your complicated feelings towards your roommate at all {hypno x warren}

Look rise are weapons of war 12 were accidents and I play with that HARD in this fic

"GET IN THE TURTLE TANK BITCHES WE GOING TO FAMILY THERAPY" {rottmnt}

Donatello is now Dad-Atello {rottmnt}

The other [Casey] is out on a beach in Tahiti; It's what he deserves after surviving the Krang {rottmnt}

Leo is now actively being hunted for sport; (the only sport Donnie is good at) {rottmnt}

These turtles can fit so much trauma

2018 Karai lives because fuck Nick; Casey x Donnie x April are a healthy ship and also fuck nick again

I cant be the only one pissed by Leo's and Karais 'love interest plot'; Leonardo's weird feelings were simply gender envy...Yes that is canon now {tmnt 2012}

What happens when two "dudes" call each other 'girlfriend'; Transgender activities, that's what! {tmnt 2012}

splinter is twice divorced and never married {rottmnt}

Papatello / Dadatello {rottmnt}

draxum's gone from dadxum to grand-dadxum good for him

HOLY FUCKING SHIT YES YES YES YES; GRANDPA BARRY COMING IN CLUTCH

draxum just be like gramps still got it; and by 'it' i mean a complete lack of forethought for care when creating random children

Puts the Bi in Bitchless {rottmnt leo}

its because ninja turtles

feral mamatello {rottmnt}

Marvel

it's the anguish, the self flagellation, the audacity to love the man who annihilate ur nation and killed ur mother; your m o t h e r {black panther}

#hinacu #i cant believe my fav one is from TLG 🤣#star wars rebels #the mandalorian #soul eater #the witcher #sonic the hedgehog #sonic boom #sonic movie #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #black panther #can u tell i'll read just about anything?#expected some things to have really funny tags and they never made the list

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wordborne · 2 years ago

Text

In Another Life

A Jedi answers Grogu’s call at the perfect time.

Or: Cal Kestis travels across the Galaxy in search of a promising youngling.

WORD COUNT: 1.4K FANART BY: iRice

Moff Gideon was right. The Dark Troopers were too much for them to handle, and, now, quickly deteriorating doors were the only thing holding them back. Blasters could barely make a dent in them, and Din wouldn’t be able to use the beskar spear fast enough for everyone to come out unscathed. He wished he could wipe the smirk off Gideon’s face. But not now. There were more important matters at hand. Like the starship that refused to identify itself as it went into the landing pad.

In an instant, everything stopped, a heavy tension falling upon them as the Dark Troopers seized trying to open the doors, turning on their heels as a lone stranger walked across the ship with purpose, grabbing a lightsaber off his belt as soon as the Troopers were in sight. Double blades blocked blaster fire and sliced through them with practiced ease as he advanced with a small droid perched on his shoulder, a long robe flowing behind him.

Grogu seemed entranced by the image of the stranger as he moved closer to their position, tiny hand touching the monitor in front of him in some sense of acknowledgement as the last batch of Dark Troopers were eliminated. The stranger stood in front of the doors, waiting. Grogu pointed towards it.

“Open the doors.” Din said.

Silence.

“I said, open the doors.”

“Are you crazy?” Fennec deadpanned. Din decided to take matters into his own hands and let Grogu sit on a chair as he pressed a button on the control panel. A man stepped inside, deactivating his lightsaber and putting it back on his belt. Green eyes looked around the room at all the blasters pointed at him, but he remained at ease unlike the BD unit who seemed rather jittery on his shoulder.

Din scrutinized him. Red hair. Hints of gray near his temple. Freckles. Scars dotting his face.

“Are you a Jedi?”

“I am. My name is Cal Kestis, and I’m here for him.” He looked at Grogu, who opted to peek at him from his position. Curious, but unmoving.

Din followed his gaze, trying to read the kid’s face before he came to a conclusion. “He doesn’t want to go with you.”

“He does. He just wants your permission.”

Din let out a close-mouthed sigh. He knew this was bound to happen, but it felt too sudden, and he wasn’t ready to fulfil his oath. Not yet. He walked over to Grogu, a sad smile forming on his lips as he picked up the child, his child, for what could be the last time.

There were many things Din wanted to say, things that were choked in his chest, words that wanted to spill out his mouth, but he settled for this:

“Go. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind. I promise I’ll see you again.”

Grogu’s hand reached right where his cheek would be, and Din understood it all too well. Slowly, he took off his helmet and laid it on the ground, letting Grogu look at him for the first time. Big eyes stared at him. At his eyes. His nose. His wrinkles. The way his lips were pursed into a thin line. He closed his eyes when Grogu touched his face, trying to keep his composure for both their sakes.

“Alright, pal. It’s time to go.”

Grogu whimpered.

“Don’t be afraid. You’ll be alright.”

He slowly laid Grogu on the ground and watched him take small steps towards Cal. The Jedi extended his hand. Maybe as a greeting. Maybe as a sign he could trust him. Grogu did the same. And, only then, Cal bent down to pick him up before turning to Din.

“I’ll take care of him. I promise.”

And, with that, the trio got inside the elevator. Cal gave Din one last nod as the doors closed in front of them.

Grogu was a good student. Many Masters had trained him before Cal but, still, meditation was something the little one couldn’t grasp very well. He got distracted easily by flowers, insects, frogs, anything that moved around him and, if Cal wasn’t careful, Grogu would have something in his mouth by the time he opened his eyes -or by the time BD-1 gave him a little warning beep saying that yes, it was happening again.

But he was a fast learner. Got the basics down pretty quickly, jumping from one place to another and dodging attacks from the training remote. Cal tried -and failed- to get him to understand a bit of Droid, but he was still too young to discern particular same-sounding sounds. And, for a while, everything was fine. Grogu kept himself grounded. Eager to learn and play with BD-1 when time allowed. Listening keenly to Cal’s lessons and giving him small coos in acknowledgement. Grogu seemed… happy, but there was something amiss. Something that had always been in the back of his mind.

It was there when his hand brushed against Grogu’s sleeve back in the elevator. Painful memories of times long past had flooded Cal’s memory in an instant. He saw Jedi Masters dropping to the floor in an effort to protect their Padawans as Grogu simply stared. Helpless. Powerless. Fear reigning over him. Images far too similar to the vision Cal once had of Padawans being struck down, his name chocking out of their lips, blaster fire everywhere. And, him, on his knees, succumbing to a dark fate.

Cal saw it again when he picked up a silver sphere on the floor in Grogu’s room that he’d, somehow, managed to sneak into his pocket when he whisked him away. It once shone on the cockpit of a ship, the Mandalorian’s harsh voice saying it was not a toy before taking it back from his small hands. Then, another image of the Mandalorian unscrewing it so Grogu could play with it. A simple gesture born of pure intentions and affection. And Grogu refused to let it go. It was always there, on the nightstand. A painful reminder of his time with his father.

Grogu eventually told him about his relationship with the Mandalorian. How he’d saved him. Nurtured him. How he was like a father to him and, after spending so many cycles together, his absence ran deep. Deeper than he thought it would. Their bond was strong, clouding Grogu’s concentration when he caught a sliver of silver from the Mantis landing near them. Thinking it was him. That he’d come to see him. That he didn’t abandon him.

Cal didn’t remember his family like that. The bond was there, yes, but it didn’t set his heart ablaze like it did to Grogu, and he wasn’t sure it that was something that could be changed. Or that Grogu truly wanted to change.

Cal wanted to rebuild the Jedi Order. He really did. But not like this.

“Grogu?”

He looked up at Cal from his position on the ground, BD’s content noises and Grogu’s soft laugh echoing in the room. Cal kneeled until they were at eye level, gaze soft.

“Do you really want to be here?”

Grogu slowly blinked at him, confusion on his mind until Cal pulled out the silver sphere from his pocket, presenting it to him.

“Or would you rather be with your father?”

His thoughts were fumbled now. Father. Kind. Jedi. Foundling.

“Let the Force guide you, Grogu, and tell me what you want.”

Cal got his answer soon enough.

Finding the Mandalorian was no easy feat, but word traveled fast of a Jedi looking for a Mandalorian fully clad in beskar and, now, they were right in front of the other, BD-1 resting on his shoulder, Grogu, in his arms.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it isn’t.” Cal replied. “Grogu decided to forgo his training, and I wanted to respect his wishes.”

He gently let the child on the ground, watching as he eagerly jumped into the Mandalorian's arms.

“I missed you too.” The Mandalorian said with a chuckle, but the sentiment was short-lived as he mulled over what was happening. He looked at Cal as Grogu made himself comfortable in his arms, brows furrowed. “I was told he had to be with his kind.”

“Maybe Mandalorians are his kind. He's a foundling, after all.” Cal smiled and, after glancing at Grogu, said: “I hope we see each other again.” And, to the Mandalorian: “Take care of him.”

The smile never left his lips as he turned back to the ship. BD-1 gave them his version of a goodbye before addressing Cal.

“Yeah, I also think we made the right choice, buddy.” He gave the droid a little pat on the head, determined to wait as long as it took for the Force to place a youngling on his path again.

#The Mandalorian #Jedi Fallen Order #JFO #Grogu #Cal Kestis #Fanfiction #my stuff #fanart made by my wonderful fiance!

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cactuswaterscactusfields · 2 years ago

Text

Never About Us - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Offerings from a Beroya

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k

For anyone who has trouble imagining a sith din, here’s a link to a Tumblr post with something I made on mandocreator.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, a hint of fluff for you goblins, violence, descriptions of injuries and blood. Arguing, Greef Karga (is he a trigger?), fluff, mando being an overprotective socially inept brick wall, I’m making things up about armor and metal. Should I tag this as slow burn? Idk anymore. Hinted at S/A (unsuccessful), fennec shand is cool. Forced drugging, more passing out. Please let me know if I missed any, I know this was a pretty heavy chapter. I love you all, and thank you for staying with me.

Translation guide: Beroya (mando’a): “Bounty Hunter”

I have no excuses for why this took so long. Love you all! Thank you to geo for betareading!

“I thought you said you knew how to fly this damn thing!” You scream out, as the ship around you rocks, screams, rumbles, and twists through the atmosphere as the flames lick at the plasteel viewing panel. Of course, he should have known how to fly, he’s Mandalorian.

“I…may be a little rusty.” He is clearly struggling, his teeth gritting as he fights to correct the ship’s course so that you two don’t end up as two little bug splatters on the blazing surface of Nevarro. You’re thrown into the ship's wall, as he yanks the controls, dodging around a mercantile ship as you arc through the clouds.

“Learn to drive, Mando!” You shriek, as he spirals down towards the landing docks. He yanks back on the controls, sending you into the back wall of the cockpit, and the ship gently slows to a stop with a thud as it lands on the ashy sand.

He turns back to look at you from his seat and tilts his head.

“Are we going?”

You glare up at him, before standing up and dusting yourself off.

“Once you learn not to kill me. One of us doesn’t exactly have a full suit of beskar.”

He watches you, and you can imagine under there he might be smiling if he even smiles. You’re still not even sure he’s human under there. Who knows? Is he just some really well-designed AI, some killer robot masquerading as a Mandalorian waiting until you have a weak moment and then leaping in for the kill? What if he–

“Keep moving.” He bumps into you as you’re caught in your thoughts, gently pushing your shoulder toward the exit of the Crest. You blush, and hurry toward the exit, not wanting to irritate him by getting in his way, lest he leave you there on Nevarro without a ship. You walk by his side, the painting of his armor as an inquisitor parting the crowd around you like the sea in some religious story you were told as a youngling. You smirk a little to yourself, feeling like he’s protecting you from the normally unsafe and crushing crowds of Nevarro’s city. In the distance, you can see the sun beginning to set, a dull blob of light against the ash of Nevarro’s atmosphere.

You finally arrive at the entrance to the guild, and you enter first, your Mandalorian bodyguard an ominous shadow behind you. You sit down in front of Karga, sliding him the completed puck of the bounty you took. He doesn’t need to know you completed it only with the help of a very dangerous inquisitor.

“Ah, my favorite little crash-lander. How are you?” He flashes his signature grin at you, his eyes flicking up to the beskar-clad warrior currently trying to squeeze into the booth next to you.

“I want to add him as a bounty hunter. We’re a pair now.” You cut to the chase, hoping he won’t make you drink more of his sand-flavored spotchka. Mando watches him, his fist resting on the table between you, and he nods slowly.

“You picked up…an inquisitor, and you want him to join you. Become part of your…little..team. I...I suppose that can be arranged, but I do need to know his name.” He begins to tap away on a holopad, and you look up at Mando, hoping he behaves himself and doesn’t kill the good guild leader for asking for his name. Mando’s shoulders tense, and he looks at Greef, his hand beginning to tighten.

“Can’t you just put it as Mando Lorian?” You cut in, hoping to prevent a murder.

“I can make that work.” He taps it into the pad and slides it over.

“Sign there. He’s your responsibility now. As for the bounties, here is the payment, and new pucks. I have one I think you’d like.” He chuckles nervously, and you quickly sign with your finger.

“Figured this one would be good to get you on the good side of the empire. It’s all under the table, not even an official bounty.” He slides over a puck and a tracker.

“The one on the left is a normal Tattoine bounty. You’re capturing an assassin named Fennec Shand, she’s evaded Republic capture for a long time. The one on the right will lead you to the offerer of the private bounty, who will provide you with the tracker to the bounty itself. And get this, paid in beskar.” He smiles at Mando, whose shoulders stiffen further when he hears that it’s being paid in beskar. Your eyes widen at the sound of your payment, fist clenching on the table. You’re being paid in stolen beskar that should have been yours.

“Hey, let’s not get too aggressive, now. Why don’t you two head to Tattooine and see if you can’t capture Ms. Shand? If you’re successful, I’ll give you the private bounty.”

You slowly reach your hand out to the puck, but Mando snatches it off the table and slips it into a pouch on his belt. He slides out of the booth, and you look at Karga again.

“Thank you for the puck–” Your arm is grabbed by a thick leather glove, and Mando drags you out of the bar without any more discussion.

“He’ll take advantage of you.” Mando releases your arm, and you have to jog to keep up with his strides.

“Advantage? I’m perfectly fine. I’ve survived this long, I’m not scared of some slightly–”

“You don’t understand.” He spits your name, quickly grasping your wrist again and dragging you into an alley. He crowds you against the sandy brick, and you have to crane your neck to look up at him. His arm presses at the brick next to your head, and he studies you through his visor. You can feel his eyes searching your face, and he tilts his head again.

“Oh? Is that so? What do I not understand, Mando? Don’t treat me like one of your stormtroopers. I’m not your servant.” You glare up at him, your snarky mouth running before you can stop it. Of course, you’ve been trained to stay independent, to push people away, it keeps you alive. Your secrecy is your survival, after all. With each word, you can see his hand clenching into a fist, and he takes an audible breath.

“He will hurt you. Badly. He will take and take until There. Is. Nothing. Left. It was never about us. It’s about keeping you safe.” His helmet glints in the last light of the sun, leaving you in almost total darkness, save the artificial lights of the night market.

“I don’t need your protection.” You slide out from under his arm, and begin to walk back toward the direction of, you hope, the ship. He follows you with his helmet, and you push into the crowd. You weave and bob through people, half-hoping that he stays following you and half-hoping to lose him.

Of course, he follows you. You keep bobbing and weaving, hoping and praying to the maker that you know where you are going, even as the sun sets and you’re cast into the artificial yellow and white of fluorescent night market string lights. And then you see it. Like a beacon from the darkness, your ship, glimmering with the barely-visible stars and the blinding lights of night, laying there in the docks. You speed up in your steps, almost running, and you finally clamber up the too-steep ramp and practically jump up the ladder into the cockpit.

You hear his heavy footsteps thud up the ramp, and you begin to press buttons almost haphazardly, trying to get off this makerforsaken planet, as if leaving Nevarro will leave Mando there. Who does he think he is, commanding you? You’ve survived your whole life alone, doing nothing but rejecting those around you so that you stay safe. After all, attachments could lead to your heart or bones being broken. But..why does a part of you feel raw for wanting to leave him? He saved your life, hunted you down and kept you alive from that awful Trandoshan, but..he wants to hold you like you’re some pristine artifact, any scratch capable of shattering and ruining you.

So why do you feel this way?

All too quickly, your thoughts are once again interrupted as his hand lands on your chair’s back. He looks down at you, tilting his helmet toward the copilot’s seat expectantly. Right. He likes to drive. You sigh, get up, and move back to the copilot’s seat, not without shoving past him.

He sits down as if your pass at him hadn’t felt like more than being brushed by a Kowakian monkey-lizard’s feather, and begins to plug in the coordinates for Tattooine, and you’re both pushed back by the jump from reality into hyperspace.

“Hey, mando.” You finally break the silence, and he turns to look at you.

“We should..probably repaint your armor. Inquisitors aren’t exactly popular, and that suit of armor puts a target on your back..”

He looks down at himself, as if having just realized the implications of walking around in a suit of metal propaganda, and he nods. He gets up, and looks at you, as if waiting for you to follow. You quickly get up, and follow him down the ladder, grabbing a box of basic ship repairing equipment as you move past the storage closet.

Mando sheds his armor quickly and without grace, revealing that..the armor wasn’t exactly lying about how muscular he is. His arms, covered by that sinfully tight flight suit, flex as he pulls his chestplate off, dropping it onto the floor with a thud that sends shockwaves through your system and right to your core.

He hands you one of his bracers, and a piece of sandpaper, before he plops down and begins to sand his chestplate. And you sand. And sand. And sand. And sand. And sand. How much sanding can one piece of beskar require? Your father wasn’t kidding when he said that beskar is some of the strongest material in the galaxy.

After what feels like millenia, you finally finish sanding, and you put the armor piece down, finally stripped of its paint. He looks at you, having finished about three in the time it took you to finish one bracer, and he gestures to the paints you pulled.

“How about just raw beskar? We can smooth the surface and coat it with a gloss..” Your mouth begins to run off mechanic terminology, and he nods slowly.

“Will you be sanding your helmet?” That touched a nerve. His hands tighten on the gloss tube, and it splurts some of the expensive, albeit shiny gel.

“I don’t take my helmet off.” He growls in your general direction, and you raise your hands defensively.

“Sorry. You’re…one of those mandalorians, huh.”

“One of those?” He squirts more of the gel onto the floor, and you glare at him.

“Could you put that down? That shit is practically worth more than bacta.”

He sets down the tube, and you scoop up the gel and begin to smear it onto a piece of equipment that he’s finished sanding and shining.

“Yes, one of those. There’s a cul–a group of people that have elected to never remove their helmets because that is how the ancient mandalorian culture used to be, and they’ve lived their lives entirely behind a mask. I’m assuming you were..brought up by them before the empire took you?”

He nods slowly, scooping up the rest of the floor gel, and spreading it onto his armor.

“Got it. So no helmet removing. Do you sleep with it on?” You try to lighten the mood, and he begins to wipe the excess gel away with a cloth.

“Yes.”

“Have you taken it off at all?”

“If you’re asking whether or not I shower with it, no. I don’t shower with it on.” He casts away the cloth, sending it into a box of other mechanical equipment, and he examines his now finished armor. He nods, and you smile softly.

“Does it come off in bed?” You wink at him, and he pauses for a moment. You can almost see his ears flushing red, his lip quivering as he tries to come up with what to respond to that. He clears his throat, before beginning to pull his armor back on.

“...Depends on what you mean.”

“During s–” You’re cut off by the ship beeping loudly, signaling its imminent departure from hyperspace, and you both quickly clean up before heading to the cockpit and getting strapped in.

You’re jolted as you’re pulled into interplanetary space, and the great yellow and dusty planet lies before you. Haven’t you had enough sand for one life?

As you enter the atmosphere, you’re strangely reminded of Geonosis, even though that had been sterilized artificially. Can people really live on this hellish planet? There’s no water, hardly any shade, and the stories you heard as a child of Krayt dragons terrified you to no end. Then again, they likely ask the same thing about Geonosis. Irradiated, hellish, with zombie parasites and abandoned pre-empire factories filled with the skeletons of droids that could have been, now condemned to live in perpetual imperfection, with cults and slavery and shadowy figures that could snatch a small child from their mother’s arms and burn them into a worshiper of death and darkness.

“You have that look again.” You’re jolted out of your fears by his voice, baritone and honey, and you sigh.

“Sorry. Was thinking about Geonosis and Tattooine. I just don’t understand how people have grown to live and settle on these apocalyptic planets..” You trail off, embarrassed to bother him.

“They make do. We live and we learn.” His words are jarringly wise, almost strangely so. For a moment, his somber tone makes you wonder what hell he has been through. Has he seen the burning flames as you have? Did he see death like you had? What has the emperor put him through, to become a mandalorian inquisitor, hunter of jedi and now hunter of bounties?

“I do not think you want the answer to that question, little mandalorian. And you’re not bothering me.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“You carry the galaxy on your shoulders. I am here to help you carry that burden.”

He tightens his grip, and it’s..strangely comforting, like you’re two beings against a galaxy of hate. Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all, you have to learn what makes the other tick, but at the end of the world, it’s you two, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. As if he can smell it on you, he pulls his hand away, and the comfort is gone.

At least you have the memory of his warmth.

Blood. So much blood. Charred flesh, hatred, glowing red blade strikes and bruised throats are all you can see before everything goes dark. The crunch of a shattering femur focuses your senses, and you’re brought out of shock. Hot. Arid. Burning sand sprays across your face, and are you..are you on Geonosis? You blink quickly, trying to clear the sand from your eyes, and you narrowly avoid a flying limb, which, upon further inspection, appears to be inhuman in form. You look toward the loud sounds of blade cutting through flesh and bone, and you see him, like a silver wraith in the shadows.

He’s standing over a crying man, hunched over and spitting green blood. He raises his hand toward Mando, who tilts his head silently as he clenches his fist, crushing the man’s windpipe into oblivion. You quickly stand up, unsure of how long you had been unconscious, and begin to survey the scene around you.

Lots of blood spattered across sandstone alley walls, three or four mangled bodies, some missing a limb or two, glowing with molten cuts, and so, so, so much sand. Mando turns toward you, stepping over body and limb alike, and he reaches out to touch your face. He gently reaches down, lifting you to your unsure feet.

You remember now.

“Hey, sweet thing, why don’t you leave droid boy there and come have a good time?” One of them had slurred at you, clearly drunk out of his mind. You’ve been catcalled before, it’s nothing you’re not used to, and you let the insult slide off your shoulders as you attempt to continue your journey across Mos Espa, but that hadn’t been enough for them.

You can sense them beginning to surround you, wall you in, and you begin to calculate escape routes as they slowly corner you and Mando into an alley.

“Surely you mustn’t have heard my friend here. Leave droid boy and come with us, it’s been so long since–”

There is a glowing red blade right through his throat, and as he reaches up, eyes widening to feel the new..air hole in his trachea, Mando slices to the left, cutting the man’s head off. He then twists, and as he twists, you feel a small prick in your neck, a disgusting arm wrapping around your torso as it presses the plunger of the small syringe in your neck. You’ve heard of drugs like these before, used on drunk or unsuspecting patrons at bars and clubs, used to take them home for…for…

You can’t remember. Your train of thought begins to fade, as the world around you feels silent, gray…it’d be so easy to sleep right now, so easy to just…

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He gently touches your face with one hand, keeping your dizzy eyes focused on his hand, and you pause for a moment to clear your head.

“F-four. Four fingers.” You shake your head.

“Why did you do that? You have a target on your back, Mando..” You look around worriedly, concerned of the implications of him revealing himself.

He just tilts his head at you, as if he’s confused.

“We need to leave, surely word has spread by now..” You grab his hand, and pull at it, stumbling as your legs relearn how to take your weight.

“Why are you worried? This is Tattooine, little mandalorian.” He follows you, holding onto you to make sure you don’t collapse again.

“Couldn’t you have just knocked them out?” You hiss, and he pauses mid step.

“And let them walk the earth unpunished for what they did to you?”

“They didn’t do anything until you got involved. They wouldn’t have drugged me, I could have just…jedi mind tricked them..I could have figured it out…that was completely unnecessary, Mando!” You finally regain your confidence, and he pulls you into another alley.

“I was doing it to protect you.”

“I don’t kriffing need your protection, Mando! I’ve been surviving on my own this long, I do not need some overgrown sith warrior in indestructible armor following me like a lost puppy, and I especially do not need one to protect me! First, Nevarro, now here! When will you learn? I escaped from you, I can escape from the empire. I do not need you painting an even larger target on my back than the one that is already there because you cannot control your temper!” Your voice is shaking as it increases in volume, and you feel saltwater tears streak down your dirty face, dripping onto the parched sand below. You step back, and glare at him, wiping your tears furiously. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your heart rate, trying to lower your blood pressure, and look back up at where you hope his eyes are.

“I don’t need your protection.” You finally reiterate, before turning and leaving the alley. His visor never leaves your back.

“Fennec Shand. Assassin and sniper.” You quietly murmur to no one in particular, not that the man in metal next to you is even listening. Since you finally broke and screamed at him in that alley, he’s been silent, even more so than usual, not even responding when you try to communicate with him or get his attention, not even when you try to make the jokes that always would have gotten at least a quiet chuckle from him.

You peer back into the binoculars pressed against your face, scanning the horizon in the distance for any sign of life, any sign of the legendary ranger that is worth so much she could pay your fuel costs for three months, not that you’re even being paid in credits.

“There. Next to that outcropping!” You notice the bright red glint of a sniper’s red laser, and you quickly duck your head down as a red blaster bolt flies through where your forehead just was. His head jerks toward you, before he starts to stand, and you grab his arm and yank as hard as you can.

“She’s using heat tracing. We have to wait either till morning when the sun blinds her or until we can come up with a new idea to stop her. We’re sitting ducks anywhere but here.”

He nods slowly, before he turns to look down at his toolbelt, and you can almost see the idea lightbulb above his head blink on.

“Grenades.”

“What?”

“She’s using heat tracing. Flash bangs will blind and defean her temporarily, which lets us get close enough that I can freeze her.” He finally speaks after a moment, having figured out how to explain his absolutely batshit idea to you.

Except..it’s not batshit, It’s genius. He does think like a mandalorian, like a bounty hunter, coming up with ways to weaken his opponent until he can immobilize or kill them. He hands you three of the little handheld suns, and looks toward the speeders that brought you all the way out here into the Dune Sea.

“On three, I’m going to throw the first one. Get on your speeder, and wait for my signal. We will alternate, until we’re close enough to get cover at the base of her cliff.” He commands you, and it reminds you strangely of times that have never happened, of lives long past. What if you had been a soldier, or captured and became an inquisitor? Would you and he be close? Would you–

“Three!” He throws the grenade, and it explodes, a red blaster bolt shooting off a ways away, Fennec’s shot having been thrown off its course. You jolt up, your feet propelling you to your speeder, and you leap onto it, revving it and speeding off into the dune stretch between you and your target.

“GO!” He shouts, his voice straining to be heard over the wind rushing past your ears, and you press the button on top of the grenade before tossing it, and it explodes, sending another shot careening into the sky.

He tosses his, and your speeders weave back and forth on the dunes like dna, intersecting and then arcing away from eachother. You continue this deadly dance, this dance of evasion and light and blaster shots, until the once tiny cliff on the horizon becomes a monolith in front of you, all you can see, and you slow to a stop at its base.

“How do you plan to get up?” You pin your back against the rock, in case there is any way Shand could shoot you if you’re too far out.

He tilts his head, before he crouches and flies up into the air like a rocket. That’s right. You could just force jump.

You crouch as he did, hoping to replicate your success on Geonosis, but all you do is a nice little hop. In the distance, though, you see a ramp, and you sigh before climbing aboard your speeder and taking the naturally formed ramp up the side of the cliff. What feels like hours later, you ride up expecting to see his blade out or a dead body, but instead you see a bound Shand and a mandalorian inquisitor shining his bracer.

“I was wondering where you were.” He looks up at you, and you blush before slowing to a stop and climbing off the speeder.

“Not all of us were trained in the force from birth, Mando.” You pick Shand up by her wrists, gently laying her onto the back of your speeder.

“I suppose I’ll meet you at the bottom–?” You look up, and he’s already falling toward the sand below.

Of course he is.

“So now that she’s in carbonite, what’s our next bounty, oh keeper of the pucks?” You twist the towel around your sopping wet hair, patting it dry and casting the damp towel into a hamper. You stretch, feet padding against the metal floor of the ship, and you look at the interior of your ship. The bruise on your neck from the injection site still aches, but the pills Mando made you take before you showered must have been some kind of reversal agent, since you feel almost back to 100% much quicker than you should have been in any other situation involving those drugs.

After you retrieved Fennec, it was a fairly simple matter getting through the streets of Mos Espa and getting her frozen in the on-board carbonite freezer. You’ve never seen one work up close, and it took you at least twenty minutes to stop shivering from the gas. You finally decided to take a shower, cleaning yourself of the dust and sand, and the warmth helped your still slightly frazzled mind clear. You’re glad for midichlorians and the force, for it allowing you to heal quicker than the average person, the dull ache in your ankle from what feels like years ago nothing but that–a dull ache. He looks up toward you, his visor tilting up and down, and he leans back against a wall. His visor locks onto the small bruise on your neck for a moment, before he looks back down at the tablet he was swiping through.

“You look comfortable.”

“Been a while since I’ve had clean clothes, Mando. Thank you for washing them for me. While I was unconscious.”

He looks away, and you blush at the memory, not having meant to be so passive-aggressive to him. After all, he didn’t exactly knock you out, but he didn’t keep you awake on Hoth. It was probably for the best, you would have screamed and bit the whole way back if you had been awake.

“Our next bounty is a long jump away, and it’s another desert planet.” Was that..humor? From mando? You let out a small giggle, never having thought you’d see the day where a mandalorian inquisitor cracks even the worst of a joke.

“What is it? Tell me it’s not Geonosis.” You shiver, the radiation coming back to you like burning flames and licking hell against your skin, ripping apart your machinations like nothing but wet paper. You don’t ever want to have to venture out into the irradiated deserts again, the one time Gakrux made you having left you crying and screaming as you could imagine your flesh melting and burning away. You were just a teenager then, your life barely having started, and already you had been scared of it ending. The radiation isn’t too terrible now, nor was it when you ventured, but the trauma and idea was enough to tell you the most radiation you ever want to experience again is a star’s light from the comfort of a spaceship.

“No. It’s called..Arvala-5.”

I am so sorry this took so long. My life kind of got kicked in the shins and I had a massive burst of writer's block, rewrote the chapter, and today I had the biggest burst of inspo while listening to music. I'm so sorry this took so long, again, but thank you so much for writing. I'll try to have the next one out in a timely manner :)

Cactus

#mando x f!reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x reader #mando and reader #fanfiction #fanfic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #star wars

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