#din's thought process in the second panel:

[naiad-r]

"...Now?"

@dinlukeweek Day 6: Hiding Injuries | Luke and Din on a Tatooine mission

Bonus:

Luke is channeling his dad.

[triptuckers]

All I could ever ask for - Din Djarin

Request: no Pairing:  Din Djarin x reader Summary:  Din has something to discuss with you now that you’re married. Warnings: none Word count:  1.2K A/N: life’s a fuckin dark pit but thank god we have fanfics. this is set before chapter 14 (because I want to ignore that tragedy) I know there’s already like a million fics with almost the same prompt, I just needed this. enjoy reading! 

You’re sitting in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, looking at the stars and occasionally glancing over at the radars. There were still a lot of people looking for the kid. There were even more people looking for you and Din. You did not make a lot of friends, given that you’re both bounty hunters.

But you’ve made it to a fairly peaceful region of space, and you’re enjoying the quiet while you can. Din went to put the kid to sleep, leaving you in the cockpit. You’re sitting in his chair, something he wouldn’t allow anyone but himself or you. You can hear your husband softly talking to the kid downstairs, and a smile appears on your lips.

Only a few days ago, you got married. It was a bit hasty and happened very quickly and quietly, with no one around except for Cara and Greef Karga. Cara had told you she would personally skin you alive if you married Din without her being present. You chuckle at the memory of it.

Behind you, you hear noises and seconds later the door slides open and Din sits down in one of the chairs behind you. You look over your shoulder and smile at him. Though you can’t see it through the Beskar helmet, he smiles back at you.

‘Kid’s finally asleep.’ he says. ‘I don’t know how you do it, but he falls way quicker asleep when you’re the one tucking him in.’  ‘You just have to tell him stories, that’s really all I do.’ you say, looking at the radars again.

‘That’s what I did.’ says Din.  ‘Well maybe he prefers my stories over yours.’ you say teasingly and Din laughs softly. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. You feel yourself slowly growing more and more tired, but you moments like this with Din are rare, so you force yourself to stay awake. Eventually, it’s Din who speaks first.

‘Cyar'ika?’ he says and you smile at the nickname. You turn around so you can face him, and gesture for him to continue. ‘There’s something I want to discuss with you.’ he says. 

You narrow your eyes slightly. There’s something off about him, almost as if he seems nervous. You know Din, he’s this Beskar-wearing bounty hunter, not scared of anything, constantly finding himself in dangerous situations. And yet, you notice the way his helmet is tilted slightly downwards, and he’s playing with his fingers as if he’s anxious.

‘Are you okay?’ you ask him, making him look up at you. ‘What?’ he says. ‘Oh, yeah, I’m fine.’ ‘You seem nervous.’ you say. ‘Talk to me.’

Din is quiet for a while as he thinks of the words he wants to say. You’re patiently waiting for him. He never acts like this, so it must be serious and hard for him to talk about. The last thing you want to do is force him to say anything about something he’s not ready to talk about yet. 

‘Now that we’re married..’ he says, trailing off. You look at him and silently encourage him to say whatever it is he wants to say. He lifts his helmet and you know he’s looking at you. ‘I can take off my helmet in front of you.’ he says.

‘Oh.’ you say, feeling relieved. ‘I know.’

Din’s helmet tilts a bit, and you imagine a confused expression on his face. ‘You do?’ he says. You nod and lean back in your chair.

‘Yes.’ you say. ‘I know more about Mandalorians than you think. I researched all sorts of things when we got together.’ 

Din looks at you and his heart fills with warmth upon hearing those words. You researched Mandalorian things for him?

‘I know you can take your helmet off in front of family. And that includes foundlings and partners you’re married to. So that means you can take it off in front of the kid and me, if you’d choose to do so.’ you say, and you turn back to look at the stars.

Din’s quiet behind you, and you know he’s processing what you just said. If you knew he would be able to take off his helmet in front of you without breaking the Creed, why hadn’t you said anything about it?

He looks at you and you’re still looking at the stars. You’re leaning back in your chair, and the light coming from the control panels illuminates on your face. 

‘Cyar'ika?’ he says again.  ‘Hmm?’ you hum without turning around, indicating you’re listening to him. ‘If you knew about all of that, why didn’t you ask me to take off my helmet?’ he asks. 

This time, you’re the one who’s confused. You thought it was rather obvious. You turn around to look at Din. ‘Well, it’s not up to me to decide when you take off your helmet.’ you say. 

Din looks at you and his heart fills itself with warmth yet again.  ‘How many people that are alive today have seen your face?’ you say. ‘Zero.’ says Din. ‘Exactly.’ you say. ‘It’s a huge deal for you, I understand. I never expected you to take your helmet off right after we got married. The decision is entirely up to you, I’m not going anywhere, so you can take all the time you need.’

You smile at him once more before turning back to look at the stars. After a while, you hear a faint click followed by a hiss of air. You look at the control panels, to see if something broke. 

‘Huh, that’s weird.’ you mumble. ‘Looks like nothing is broken.’ ‘Y/N.’ says Din behind you. 

You freeze and your eyes widen. His voice isn’t modulated. The sound you heard was him taking off his helmet. You immediately shut your eyes.

‘Din.’ you say somewhat breathlessly. ‘Did you just take off your helmet?’ ‘Yes.’ says Din. ‘Are you sure? I mean, it’s a huge step and I literally just told you can take all the time you need, I don’t need to-’

You stop talking when you feel how Din turns your chair, making you face him. Still, you keep your eyes shut. 

‘Open your eyes, cyar'ika.’ he says softly.  ‘Are you sure? Like, absolutely sure?’ you say. 

As a response, you feel one hand cupping your cheek, and a pair of lips on your forehead. ‘I trust you.’ he says. ‘And I’m ready.’

You take a deep breath before you peel your eyes open. The man in front of you seems a bit nervous, but determined. A tiny smile forms on his lips. Your lips part and a surprised expression appears your face. Din immediately looks worried.

‘What is it?’ he says. Instead of answering him, you put both of your hands on the side of his face and basically smash your lips against his. Din is taken back at first, but soon melts into your touch. 

When you finally pull away, you keep your face close to his, noses almost touching as you look into his eyes. ‘Din.’ you say softly. ‘You’re beautiful.’ You see how Din’s cheeks heat up and he smiles at you.

‘I was worried you might not like what you see.’ he admits.  ‘Oh, Din, I fell in love with a Mandalorian wearing a full set of Beskar armour. This-’ you kiss the tip of his nose ‘-is just an added bonus. And I love it. I love you.’ 

‘I love you too.’ says Din. ‘Thank you for making me feel safe. You’re all I could ever ask for.’ 

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

[beskarhearts]

can i request a din blurb w/ a female reader where they've been friends for a long time & confess feelings for each other? maybe some kisses in there too if you'd like 🥺

Nervous (Din Djarin x reader)

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word Count: 1850

Warning: cursing, nothing else I can think of but let me know if I missed one

Notes: I loved these request. It makes me so soft when I read/write friends confessing their love to each other. I hope you like this!

As always, anybody can leave any request for a blurb/imagine they would like for our wonderful Din Djarin! 

________________________________

“The kid is finally asleep.”

You let out a relieved sigh upon hearing the words, not turning to the speaker as you continued to work away at the wires in front of you. You had now spent hours in front of this panel of the Razor Crest, working and prying away at the complex set of wires that just never seemed to work right, no matter what you did with them. A small tool was held in your mouth while both of your hands twisted away at them, your neck leaning forward and eyebrows furrowed together in deep concentration. You hadn’t look at yourself, but you were sure you looked like a frazzled mess with your awry hair and glazed eyes from all the staring.

“Good. I couldn’t concentrate with the kids yelling.” you mumbled awkwardly, the tool still clasped between your mouth.

Din let out a small sigh and you would of turned around to face him normally, but you had to keep working. You swore you were so close. Just a few more minutes and you’d probably have it. “You have been going at that all day.”

You heard the concern laced in his voice. Din had known you for far too many years now, enough to know when you were pushing yourself or immersing yourself into something. Much like himself, you were a work hound and while he’d never let someone tell him to relax, he’d always insist doing it to you. You were his closest friend, perhaps his only true one, and he always wanted to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe and heathy and staying sane. Instead of stopping, you simply grabbed the tool from your mouth and brought it to the wires as you spoke to him. “I think I’ve almost got it. Just give me a second.”

You finished one last twist of a wire, finally believing you had it in place. A big grin broke out on your face as it appeared to be working as it should. But to your dismay, the wires started to spark and a light burning smell filled the space you were in. “Dank farrik! This piece of kriffing bantha fodder has been messing with me all day!”

Din let an eyebrow raise at your words. You usually were calm but when something like this happened, you’d let it bug you to no end. Out of all his time knowing you, he’d never heard you speak ill of anyone or curse very often, unless it was at some type of machinery or wire that wasn’t working. “You definitely need to stop for the night.” Din said calmly and you finally turned to look at him, face twisted up in utter frustration.

“And let these wires think they bested me? Oh, no way. Not letting these wires win. Not today.” You said, shaking your head emphatically. You were going to solve this problem, no matter the consequence.

“You do realize the wires can’t think?” Din asked, amused by your dramatics but also partially annoyed with your insistence on continuing to work.

“That’s what they want you to think.” You went to turn back to the panel when Dins hand reached out and grabbed the bicep of your left arm, pulling you away from the panel and towards him.

You finally faced him fully and couldn’t help the small smile that quirked your lips as you got a good look at him. You had been with him on the ship all day but you hadn’t gotten a good look at him, being too consumed by the wiring. He wore the same armor as usual and his face way hidden away as always, but you still liked to look at him. Admire the friend that had been by your side for many years now. The friend who cared for you and who you harbored many strong feelings for. “You look exhausted.”

You let your shoulder sag and huffed at him as he looked down at you, hand still holding onto you but now lightly and delicately. “Well, thanks so much sir. Exactly what a person wants to hear.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh yes. I’m just some tired looking creature. Probably a horrendous sight.” You let out a small, theatrical sigh as you looked up at Din with a fake pout. At this point, Din was used to your antics but he still let out a sigh.

“You are not a horrendous sight.” Din paused for just a moment, his helmet tilting. “You are beautiful.”

You froze at his words. It wasn’t like Din had never paid you a compliment before, just as you had with him. But never one like this, and never had his voice seemed to waiver as he did so. You felt your face get warm and you tried to look away, but it felt like your eyes were stuck on him. Your heart slammed in your chest as you tried to think of anything to say. This was the man you had been swooning over for longer than you cared to admit and he was calling you beautiful. 

In the midst of your silence, Din finally let go and cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.” he quietly said as he began to drift away from you.

Before your brain could process your movements, you reached out for him quickly and pulled him towards you. “No, no. It’s fine.” You paused as he slowly looked back at you and gave him a soft smile. “You are beautiful, too.”

“You’ve never seen me.” Din responded plainly.

“I don’t need to see your face to see that you.” You told him and you swore you heard his breath hitch in his helmet. You had known him for so long and had learned to read him so well, but right now you felt lost. You reached out for him more, placing one hand on his shoulder, and looking at him. “You, Din Djarin, are beautiful.”

Din’s helmet remained frozen in the spot it was and you worried that you had ruined it. Ruined the delicate balance of the friendship you had. Some moments you thought there was something there, that maybe he shared the same thoughts you did. But you never dared to step over the line and see what would happen. Until now. And now Din was saying nothing and your chest was heaving. You began to pull away but Din grabbed onto your arms, keeping you in place.

“You’re nervous.”

Your eyebrows quirked up at his statement. “W-what?” 

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you are nervous.” You shyly looked down at your feet but Din didn’t tear his gaze away from you. “Why?”

Your mind was going so fast and you felt your hands shake in the areas where they rested on Din. “These wires are really getting to me...” you tried to lamely joke but knew it was no use. You let out a sigh. “Din, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop touching me and looking at me like that and saying stuff like this.” You finally let out, looking up at him with an expression that conveyed just how tangled up you were in your own emotions.

“What do you mean?” Din asked, seeming genuinely confused by your words.

“You can’t just call me beautiful and care about me and be so nice to me cause then it makes it so much harder.” You huffed, trying to pull away but Din kept you in place.

“So much harder to do what?”

He was going to get an answer out of you whether you liked it or not. You felt like you wanted to cry or yell at him or you didn’t even know what. You were too nervous to do this. “Din-”

“Tell me.”

“So much harder to pretend I’m not in love with you!” You finally spat out, feeling your nerves reach a breaking point as your eyes drifted away from him. You didn’t want to see or hear his reaction. Hear him tell you no. The silence continued on and Din said nothing to ease your worries. You tried to pull away again only to fail and you grunted. “Let’s just ignore this. We are friends and that is fine. I’m good with being just friends and pretending that-”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika.”

You had known Din long enough to pick up a few things in Mando’a but you looked up at the Mandalorian completely perplexed. “What does that mean?” you asked, your eyebrows raised as he just looked down at you.

“Close your eyes.”

“Din, what are you-”

“Close your eyes.” Din repeated, a little sterner this time. You hesitantly let your eyes flutter close and Din finally let go of your arms so they could drop to your sides. 

You waited for a moment when a hiss and a click rang through the hull of the ship. “Din, did you just take off your helmet?”

You waited for his response, still keeping your eyes clamped shut in case your suspicion was correct. Instead of a verbal response, you heard his boots on the metal floor stepping closer to you and you sucked in a breath. “You are making me nervous. What are-”

“Can you stop talking?” your heart froze as you heard his unmodulated voice. How could it sound even better without the helmet? Still deep and masculine, but a little softer and more Din. 

You finally clamped your mouth shut, biting back the urge to ask him once again what he was doing. You almost finally said something after a few moment of silence but any words you had planned to say became trapped when you felt a warmth on your lips. Your brain seemed to short-circuit and it took you a moment to realize it was a pair of lips. Din’s lips. They were warm and a little chapped, but not in an unpleasant way. In fact, it perfectly encompassed him. You realized for a moment you were standing completely still, your body almost rigid. You immediately snapped out of it and move your lips against his, conveying that yes, this is what you wanted.

You let out a small noise of satisfaction as one of Din’s gloved hands reached up for your face, cupping your cheek softly as his lips moved against yours with the same amount of delicacy. You slowly brought a hand up to his neck, letting it travel upwards so it became tangled in the hair that sat at the base of it. It was soft and longer, and you couldn’t see it but you could just tell it was a beautiful brown color.

Din pulled away from you and you almost whined in response, but instead focused on the sound of him breathing in and out. “It meant I love you.” he finally said, and you couldn’t help the big grin the broke out on your face.

Instead of saying another word, you just pulled him back in and let yourself become one.

[flowers-of-io]

//TACTICAL LOG — HUMAN READABLE

Now on Ao3

And it's my whole heart Deemed and delivered a crime I'm on trial Waiting 'til the beat comes out

"Elisabeth," she hears her grandfather speak through the cracking comms, barely above the din of the engines. The ship is hovering so close she can see his angry face through the windshield. He tries so hard to keep the fury out of his voice, though--the words come out tight, strained like the membrane of a cyst close to bursting. "Elisabeth, I know you're listening. This is genocide, do you understand?"

She doesn't bother answering. The fingers of her perfect body tremble as she fumbles with the circuitry, bare cables sparking with both electricity and Light as she unplugs and rearranges them. The datapad beside her flares angry red, stark against the snow.

"Elisabeth, this process saved you. It could have saved your father. For his sake, for the sake of your sisters, don't do this. Don’t make me stop you."

It almost halts her, the surge of anger in her chest. How dare he, dragging her sisters into it--dragging her father into it, her father whom he had doomed and damaged and failed to save! She furiously slams the datapad, but the red bar of transmission progress is still unfurling, still sending the data that could forestall the destruction of everything she has ever held dear. Still pending.

"Elisabeth, this is your last chance."

By the tone of his voice, she knows she is running out of time. Her hands shake as they dance across the circuit board but it's still not enough, not enough, the transmission still in progress, her weapon still a tangle of sparking wires on the snow. Behind her, the ship begins to hum.

"You've always been my favorite, Elisabeth. Please..."

She looks up defiantly at the mass of iron and armoured glass that would always keep him away from her, no matter the lengths to which she went to shake any human response out of him. There would never be repentance. There would never be closure for her father's shattered frame on the laboratory cot, scattered like a pile of scrap metal. The hum fills her ears to the point of deafening, and a bright spot appears under each engine, growing brighter by the second.

Lethal intervention authorized. Intervening.

Maser discharge complete.

In a flash, just before her systems fail, she sees him--some desperate, overheated circuits furiously trying to keep her machine brain alive with thought. His fitted suit and long limbs and white hair, all sharp and sterile againts the backdrop of the old wooden panels in his study back on Mars. He has noticed her hiding behind a bookcase watching him work, and is now rising from the chair--slowly, as if a predator assessing its prey, looming over her like an ivory tower. And she runs to him, headfirst, closing her eyes as she presses her face against the fabric of his suit. This is the last thing she feels: soft darkness, and his long arms caging her, cold like ice.

Target destroyed.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them. 

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher​​ for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​

[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 17: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team)

for both my incredible birthday twin jenny (@laelipoo) and a little bit for myself! i hope you are having a wonderful, wonderful day and i wish you all the love in the world. i'm so glad we became friends and i cannot tell you how glad i am for our conversations 🥰🥰🥰

many, many, many thanks to jenny as well for helping me out with the plot!

ao3 | 3.1k | firefighter carlos, hurt/comfort, pining, developing relationship, major character injury (two of them 😌)

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the soft blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

The thing about Carlos Reyes is that he isn’t only stupidly hot; he’s also just plain nice. TK can’t even make up a flimsy excuse to keep his distance. Carlos is, quite literally, perfect.

He shares recipes and book recommendations with Paul, he spars with Marjan, he discusses superheroes with Mateo, and Judd has had nothing but good things to say since before Carlos even joined them. Apparently they’d worked together a lot before the explosion, when Carlos was with the 116, and he’s ‘one of the best damn firefighters’ Judd has ever seen.

He even makes time to hang with the paramedics, which...isn’t a new development, exactly. But it is recent, and TK is willing to bet they’d still be pretty divided if Tim hadn’t suddenly transferred back to Maryland and he hadn’t taken the leap to be a full paramedic.

Even after that… His friends were hardly going to abandon him after he switched, but Nancy had still only been semi-included at best. She’d called him out about it during their first week working together, but fixing it had been a slow process.

Until Carlos came along, that is. Excluding Judd, they all regularly hang out at his place now, and Nancy’s inclusion had never even been a question. Safe to say, Carlos has charmed everyone in the firehouse, including both captains, and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it.

He’s perfect, from his freakishly toned body to his infuriatingly sweet personality to his incredible skills in the field, and TK does not have a crush, goddammit!

One morning about three weeks after Carlos’s arrival, TK is greeted in the firehouse by the sound of a long, beautiful laugh coming from the kitchen. Three weeks is an embarrassingly short amount of time to admit that he’s memorised everything about him, but he instantly recognises the noise as coming from Carlos, even if he can’t see him yet.

He saunters into the kitchen, where Carlos is standing with Paul, and leans up against the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Carlos turns with a winning smile and holds out a steaming mug of coffee, clearly freshly made even though TK only got in two minutes ago.

He blinks. “How—” Then, taking in the slight pinkness to Carlos’s cheeks, “Are you seriously offering me your own coffee, Reyes?”

Carlos shrugs, forcing the mug into TK’s hands. “I only just made it so technically it belongs to anyone, and I can always make another,” he says. “Besides, you look like you could use it more than me.”

His grin has TK narrowing his eyes and stubbornly refusing to drink even though Carlos is right—he really, really needs it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was an insult.”

“Who says you do know better?”

TK splutters, momentarily left speechless in the face of Carlos’s smile and the twinkle in those goddamn eyes. He turns to Paul for help, but Paul...has disappeared. Huh. TK honestly hadn't noticed him go.

He shakes his head and looks back to Carlos, only to be stunned silent again by the way his smile has softened into something else, something more.

TK’s heart skips a beat or two and he swallows, staring down into Carlos’s coffee. “Whatever, Reyes,” he mutters.

It was too late for a witty comeback anyway.

Carlos’s laugh follows him out of the kitchen, and TK wonders when, exactly, he let himself fall this far.

*

“Earth to TK? Hello?”

TK is rudely snapped back to reality by one Nancy Gillian’s hand waving violently in his face. He scowls at her, to which she responds with an eye roll.

“Stop drooling over your man and come help me with inventory.”

“I’m not drooling,” TK argues, following her over to the rig. “And he’s not my man.”

“Right,” Nancy drawls, folding her arms over her chest as she leans against the ambulance. “So you’re just going to deny that weird energy around you two that makes the rest of us feel like we’re creeping on something?”

“Exactly.” TK nods emphatically, then frowns. “Wait, what?”

Nancy casts her eyes heavenward. “You know,” she says, “you’re a lot of things, Strand, but I hadn’t pegged you for oblivious.”

TK’s next words are reflexive, said without thought for the consequences—the story of his life, really.

“I’m not oblivious!”

The grin spreading over Nancy’s face rams home just how much he’s fucked up with those three words. TK drops his head in his hands and groans, unable and unwilling to look Nancy in the eye.

“Not a word,” he warns, which Nancy appears to respect, for now. TK is well aware that there will be words—several of them—later, whether he wants them or not.

The thing is, he really isn’t oblivious. He knows perfectly well what Nancy is talking about and he has often fantasised about all the things he’d do to Carlos given half a chance. TK likes Carlos, way more than just in the physical sense, and he’s pretty sure that Carlos likes him right back. It would be so easy to start something between them and, god, TK wants to. He just… He can’t.

One year—that’s what he promised himself back in New York. One year on his own to sort his head out and figure out how he fits back into the world after the overdose. Granted, his sobriety anniversary is only a couple of months away now, but he refuses to give up on his promise, especially when he’s so close.

Maybe in a couple months, if Carlos hasn’t gotten bored of something that’s clearly going nowhere.

But not now.

*

“He did not ask me out!”

“He totally did, dude, and you know it. You want to say yes, I can tell.”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“Children,” Tommy interrupts from the back of the ambulance. They’re heading to a callout, and Nancy has not let up the entire way about something TK is certain never actually happened. “Either of you want to enlighten me on what the argument is about this time?”

“TK’s too chicken to go out with Carlos,” Nancy jumps in, before TK can stop her.

“I am not!” he protests. “Plus, he wasn’t asking me out, he said we should go over to his place for dinner sometime, which Carlos does all the time. So there.”

“Strand, you are not this dense,” Nancy snarks, probably rolling her eyes. “His exact words were, ‘You should come over sometime’.”

“We were all there! It was obviously the plural you.”

“Oh my god—”

“Alright!” Tommy sighs wearily. “Nancy, can we keep from provoking TK until we’re back at the firehouse and he’s no longer driving?”

“Ha!” TK exclaims, but Tommy’s not done.

“TK, if I weren’t your captain, I’d be telling you that Nancy is right and you should pull your head out of your ass before it’s too late, understand?”

Now it’s Nancy’s turn to be triumphant as TK struggles to form a coherent response. Thankfully, he’s saved from further torment by them finally pulling up at the scene—a warehouse where one of the workers had become trapped after parts of the upper level walkway had broken and fallen. Apparently, the falling metal had caused some of the machinery to malfunction, turning the call from simple to beyond complicated in a matter of minutes.

“TK, grab your turnout gear and your bag; I’m sending you in with them,” Tommy informs him as soon as they’re out of the rig. “Normally, we’d just talk the firefighters through it over radio, but given your training it’ll be quicker and safer for you to deal with our patient.”

TK grins; he’s missed the adrenaline rush of running into emergencies more than he can say. “Got it, Cap.”

“Maybe try and look a little less happy about a serious injury, too.”

“Copy that.”

*

The noise when they enter the warehouse is deafening, an ugly screeching cutting right through TK’s skull.

“Shouldn’t they have shut the machines off?” he shouts, fighting to be heard.

“Apparently they can’t,” Judd calls back. “Something wrong with the control panel, I don’t know exactly what.”

TK groans—just what they need. The sound is lost in the din, but Carlos still looks over and gives him a sympathetic grin, shrugging in a ‘what can you do’ motion. TK can’t help but grin back, the mere sight of Carlos easing the annoyance he feels and the headache already beginning to build behind his eyes.

Their patient, when they reach him, is pinned under a large, heavy-looking sheet of metal. He’s bleeding from a gash on his temple and his skin is worryingly pale, to the extent that TK can tell even from a distance. He jogs to the patient’s side and kneels down, pressing his fingers against his neck.

“Cap, I have a pulse,” he reports into his radio after a few seconds. “But he’s unconscious with a head wound, and I think there are probably injuries I can’t see yet. Possible spinal damage, but I can’t tell until we’ve got this metal off him.”

“Copy that,” Captain Vega says. “Get ready to run a line; he’s gonna need it as soon as he’s free.”

TK nods and moves to secure a c-collar around his neck. “We need to cut this thing off of him,” he says, addressing the team. “Quickly, but carefully.”

Judd steps forward, brandishing the saw. He hands TK a couple of spare turnouts and kneels on the patient’s other side. “Couple of you need to cover him, and yourselves.”

TK doesn’t even have to ask before Carlos appears next to him, taking one of the turnouts from him. He smiles gratefully before arranging himself to provide maximum protection to all three of them as Judd starts working on the metal. The vibrations from the saw are unpleasant, and TK dreads to think what effect it’s having on the already unstable machinery, but it’s the only option they have to get their patient free.

Fortunately, everything seems to go off without a hitch, and soon the team are able to remove the metal. TK immediately gets to work, feeling for any damage. As he suspected, there’s a pretty large gash on the man’s leg which is bleeding badly, though thankfully it seems to have missed any arteries. He also seems to have a broken wrist, but he should heal.

TK quickly wraps his leg, then gets Carlos and Judd to help move him onto the spine board. It feels like, for once, the call has gone as smoothly as possible, and TK allows himself a breath of relief as they prep to get the guy outside to the ambulance.

Naturally, that’s when everything goes to hell.

The machine closest to them lets out a threatening groan and shudders before there’s a loud roar and it explodes. On instinct, TK folds himself over the patient as shrapnel rains down on them, and he sees Carlos doing the same in his periphery.

The downpour seems to last forever, but eventually it slows and comes to a stop. TK cautiously lifts his head, his heart pounding, and sags in relief as it seems that the worst is over.

They need to get out of here, now.

He stands, a brief stab of pain running through his back—probably because of his awkward position over the patient—and turns to Carlos, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Only to see Carlos’s face tight with agony, and then the cause—a jagged piece of shrapnel running right through his hand.

“Carlos,” TK breathes, horrified. Carlos looks up at him, his breathing carefully measured and his eyes wide, and TK drops back to his knees, reaching out for him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Carlos swallows and nods, his eyes squeezing tight. TK’s heart rate skyrockets, and he’s barely able to keep his cool as he signals to the others to get their first patient out of the warehouse.

“Cap, the team are bringing him out, but we have a problem.”

“Talk to me, Strand, what’s going on?”

“It—It’s Carlos.” TK breathes out shakily and takes a moment to steady himself before continuing, “It’s not serious, but some of the machinery broke apart and some shrapnel impaled his hand. I’ve got to stabilise the shard before we come out to you.”

“Alright, but hurry. I don’t want you guys in there for longer than necessary.”

“Copy.”

Stabilising the shrapnel with rolls of gauze and wrapping Carlos’s hand should be a matter of course—it’s an easy process that TK could probably do in his sleep. But this is Carlos, so his damn hands won’t stop shaking and he almost fumbles and drops his supplies.

He manages though, and soon he’s helping Carlos up, instructing him to hold his injured hand above his heart. Carlos sends him a wobbly smile, which ends up turning out to be more of a grimace, but it’s a comfort nonetheless. Things could have gone so much worse today; TK could have even lost him, and he would have never been able to—

But that’s not important. Carlos is okay, or he will be, and they still have plenty of time to figure out whatever this is between them.

Everything will be okay.

TK’s back and side twinge again as they make their way out, but he brushes it off, too focused on getting Carlos to the hospital as fast as possible. Tommy shakes her head as they make their way over, her eyebrows raised despite the concern clearly in her expression.

“Never a peaceful moment with you, Strand, is it?” she asks dryly, hissing as she inspects Carlos’s wound.

“In my defence, Cap,” he says, more at ease now that they’re safe, “it’s not me who’s injured this time.”

Tommy hums, then directs Carlos into the back of the rig, jumping in after him. “Get back here, TK. Nancy’s driving.”

She has a teasing look in her eyes that instantly makes TK suspicious, but he moves to comply, shrugging off his turnout coat as he does. The movement hurts, which is weird, but he thinks nothing of it.

At least, until Tommy’s eyes go wide and she stands from her seat, holding her hands out towards him. “TK, do not move,” she instructs, her eyes firmly fixed on his right side.

TK frowns, then follows her gaze down, and— Oh.

His grey undershirt is stained with blood, and it’s difficult to miss the large piece of metal sticking out of his side. He has no idea how he missed it, but now that he knows, the pain slams into him full force, causing him to stagger.

“Oh,” he gasps, eloquently.

Then, his legs buckle and the world goes black.

*

TK wakes up to a steady beeping sound, which only exacerbates his pounding headache. He groans, scrunching his face up, before slowly peeling his eyes open, almost slamming them shut again after getting an eyeful of obnoxiously bright fluorescents.

“You’re awake,” a voice says, sounding surprised, then the lights suddenly dim, the room lit by the gentle glow of a lamp. TK sighs in relief and shifts to look at his saviour.

It’s Carlos.

“You… You’re here,” TK states, confused. His gaze drifts down Carlos’s body and lands on the white bandages around his hand, the memories of the warehouse suddenly hitting him all at once. “Shit, you— How are you?”

Carlos shakes his head and comes to sit in the chair by TK’s bed. “I can’t believe you’re the one asking me that.”

“I’m a paramedic, it’s my job.”

“Not when you’re the one in the hospital bed,” Carlos counters, sighing. “If you must know, I’m fine. They gave me some pretty good drugs, so…” He shrugs, and TK can’t help but laugh, which proves to be a very bad idea.

His side lights up, an unnecessary reminder that TK is very much not on the good drugs, and he moans softly, slowly settling back in the bed. “I hate you,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“You love me,” Carlos says, and TK’s heart seizes in his chest.

The silence after his words is deafening, so TK forces himself to crack his eyes open enough to look at him. Carlos is frozen in his chair, biting his lip hard, and he looks like he either wants to bolt or be swallowed by the earth.

TK thinks he should probably be feeling the same. They’ve been dancing around this issue for weeks now, and he’d thought he had it under control. That he could last that little bit longer until his one year was up; that he could ignore these feelings that have been steadily growing since he first laid eyes on Carlos.

It was a hopeless endeavour; he recognises that now. TK remembers the fear he felt when Carlos was injured back at the warehouse, the desperation for him to be better, and now with his own injury…

He could have lost this chance before he ever got it, and TK isn’t about to let it slip through his fingers now. He reaches out and takes Carlos’s good hand, startling him into meeting TK’s eyes.

“Yeah,” TK whispers, just loud enough for Carlos to hear him. “I think I do.”

The smile Carlos gives him lights up the room, and he doesn’t waste any time in leaning down to kiss TK. And it’s… It’s everything TK had hoped and imagined it would be and more. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and perfect, and he never wants it to end.

But end it does, though Carlos doesn’t go far. TK smiles at him, squeezing his hand with all the strength he can muster.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” he says.

Carlos frowns. “What?”

TK’s smile widens and he flicks his eyebrows at Carlos. “To dinner. Or were you not asking me out after all?”

Carlos huffs a laugh, and the look in his eyes when they lock back onto TK’s melts his heart and makes his entire chest ache. “Does Friday work for you?”

He nods, tugging Carlos down for another kiss. “It’s a date.”

[coreychick]

Chapter 6: Run

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /

Din X Fem Reader Insert

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Déjà vu is a bitch. For the second time in three days, you have woken on Mando’s cot, and in Mando’s shirt.

It’s not cute anymore.

It was the blinking green light that called like a beacon in the dark. You stand in front of the panel on the carbonite chamber, watching that annoying green light blink. How is it that you’re back on this ship?

“You’re awake.” Comes that familiar modulated voice from behind you. It’s almost annoying how stealthy he can be- or maybe you were just too consumed by your thoughts to hear him?

You stare ahead, not quite ready to face him again.

“Are you going to put me in there?”

“No.” he says- and it might be the quickest reply he has ever given you.

“I suppose it’s not necessary when the quarry practically delivers herself for you.”

Mando sighs deeply.

“I....I never lied to you.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” you say- matching his sigh.

“I understand if you're angry….”

“I’m not.”

I very much am.

“You’re not?”

“You were just doing your job, right? You weren’t the reaper...just the ferryman.”

He inhales deeply again. “Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”

No, to both.

“ I’m fine.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him. His damaged and broken armor has been replaced with newly forged beskar. The finish has a high polish shine that gleams even in the near dark of the hull. -

That fucking stings.

You take a step closer and run your finger along the edge of the shoulder pauldron. A newly minted mudhorn signet is beautifully etched into the steel. You return your stone cold gaze to the black t of his visor. You try to see past it, wanting to look straight into his eyes.

“But, as far as I’m concerned, this armor should be half mine.” You say, tilting your head to the side, remaining deceptively calm.

He has to clear his throat a little before speaking again. The modulated voice comes out a little raspier this time.

“We have a lot we need to work out.”

“Do we?”

“I know….I know I messed up. But your safety... is my only priority now.”

“Why's that?

There’s a long pregnant pause in his silence before he responds, “This is the way.”

You try to process his words, to look between them for the truth, but can’t decide what’s real or not.

No thanks. I can save myself.

You decide to use his own tactics against him.

Lull him into a false sense of compliance. When the moment is right, strike out.

He’s about to say more when a blast rocks the ship sending you both stumbling into the walls. Warning lights and alarm sensors sound as a second blast shakes the hull. You fist the cargo nets attached to the wall in an effort to regain your balance. Mando beelines for the cockpit and you follow on unstable feet behind him. He’s quick to reach the pilot’s seat and confirm that the Crest is under fire. Blasts continue to ricochet off the ship walls, but now that Mando is at the helm, the direct hits are fewer.

A voice comes over the comm, “ Hand over the woman Mando, and I might let you live.”

Mando dives to the right, nearly sending you into the wall. “Buckle in,” he commands- as you work your way into the rear passenger seat. The left engine takes on another direct blow. A few more like that and you think this ship might buckle like a tin can under a boot. The engine warning lights are screaming now. Mando rapidly presses buttons and flips switches before declaring, “Hold on!”

He takes the ship into a spinning dive maneuver and sweeps out to the left, but the other ship stays locked on in tight pursuit.

“Come on,” Mando grunts out in frustration.

Red beams fly past the windshield and into the atmosphere.

“Give it up Mando.” comes the voice over the comm again.

Mando quickly reverses the thrusters bringing the crest to a near stop. You're thankful you buckled in when you did or you’d likely be thrust upon the windshield. You squeeze your eyes and send a quick prayer to the Maker, that the other ship won’t come crashing into the Crest from behind. Mando dips down slightly and the other ship goes skidding across the top, barely missing the Crest- but takes out the right engine.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?” you shout.

Only now the other ship is in Mando’s sights, having zoomed past. He locks on with the targeting system and fires. The other ship disintegrates before your eyes.

The battle is over but the danger is not. Warning lights and systems continue to alert. Mando turns off the engines and attempts to do some damage control. You unbuckle for a better look at the console. It’s a mess with dozens of indicators alerting to damage.

“We're losing  fuel” he says- as he powers down all systems except for life support. All screens go black. Mando turns to you, where you’re silently watching from over his shoulder.

“Flip that switch,” he says- indicating a small black lever to your left.

You do, and the screens and lights come back on at what seems like half capacity. “Emergency backup generator, he says.

“Should be just enough to hobble us over there.”

It’s only now that you notice there is a large planet in the distance.

A few moments later Mando turns on the comm.

“This is Mos Eisley tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay 3-5, over.”

“Copy that, locked in for 3-5.”

“Mos Eisley?” you ask. “We’re heading for Tatooine?”

“You’ve been?” He asks looking at you.

“No, “ -you shake your head- “I’ve only heard things.”

The ship is pretty crippled so it’s a bit of a rough landing as Mando sets down the Razor Crest in the middle of a hanger that looks as if it too, has seen better days.  You follow him down the ladder expecting to exit the ship behind him, when he turns and stops abruptly in front of you. You walk straight into his shiny new chest plate, yelping in surprise.

“I want you to stay here.”

“What? No.” you protest.

“Look, we’re both being hunted now and Tatooine isn’t exactly known for being a safe haven. I want you to stay here. I’ll arrange for the ship repairs and pick up a few supplies. I should be back in an hour tops…...then we can finish our conversation.”

You feign a disappointed look and relent with a huff, “fine.”  He turns to leave and you decide to throw in a little extra sense of security for his benefit.

“Wait! I need a new set of clothes….something with pants.”  He waits and then replies, “Anything else?”

“No. just the clothes.” That ought to buy me enough time.

He nods and departs the Crest stopping halfway down the ramp and turns around again.

You’re taken by surprise when he calls out your name. 

He's never said my name before.

“Yes?” you answer hesitantly.

“Do not even think, of running.”

You were in fact going to run. The moment you learned you were heading straight into Tatooine, you had started forming a plan. For months now you had been working your way across the galaxy, trying to get to this very point- and now,  low and behold, this hunk of junk ship ends up delivering you precisely to your destination. You wait patiently until he has been gone for a solid five minutes before leaving the ship, just in case he decides he “forgot something” and comes back.

Before you flee the Crest, you decide to leave Mando a little parting gift. You scour the ship for anything personal to destroy. You want to shred his books or toss his favorite records into the bin, but the man is an enigma and doesn’t seem to have anything you’d consider a personal belonging. You alight on an idea and make a quick job of it. Is it petty? yes. Is it childish? yes. Does it feel good? hell yes.

Satisfied, you smile at your handy work before deciding to stop at his armory on the way out. Most of the weapons are too large for you to carry inconspicuously, or too big for you to handle anyway, so you grab a knife that can easily be tucked into a boot.

There’s a mechanic just starting work on the other side of the ship, so you sneak out the opposite side and make your way into the office. You head straight for a locker on the back wall, and fate must be working with you because there is a mechanic’s spare jumpsuit and boots inside. You quickly change clothes, careful not to be seen by the small mechanic droids lingering on the opposite side of the hanger. The jumpsuit is a little too tight around the hips and ass, but the boots are a perfect match to your feet. You tuck the knife in and decide to haul ass out of there. You're on a clock. Mando will be back in about 45 minutes according to your best guess.

Mos Eisley is unruly at best. It seems to be littered with spacers and thieves. You stick to moving through the outlining streets, and avoid the main roads, deciding that Mando likely headed for the marketplace. You do your best to stick to the shadows and attempt to walk over other’s footprints, hoping that Mando’s tracking won’t be able to decipher the difference. It takes much longer than you hoped, but eventually you find your way to Chalmun’s Cantina, just outside the community junkyard. Trooper helmets on pikes line the road on either side of the entrance. Oddly comforting, considering your last run in with troopers.

 There'll be no Imps here.

It’s late morning by your guess- which means it’s the slow hour, well before patrons of all species will file in, looking to escape the midday suns. You quickly scan the room for beskar and finding none, you make your way over to the droid-manned bar- avoiding the notice of it’s more dangerous looking barflies. You approach the bartender, doing your best to act natural.

“Droid, I’m looking for someone...a smuggler.”

“This is Tatooine, Smugglers are as commonplace as sand.”

Nobody likes a sarcastic droid.

“I mean, I’m looking for a particular one, goes by the name of Vale. Do you know of him?”

“I am programmed to forget those kinds of details, in order to maintain plausible deniability.”

You sigh. “Well, do you know anybody who might be able to point me in the right direction?”

“Nah, you won’t get anything out of the tin can back there, he can’t even make a decent drink.” Comes a voice from the booth behind you.

You turn to find a younger guy with his feet perched casually on the tabletop, rolling a coin across his knuckles. He’s easy on the eyes for sure, but he has an arrogance about him- a cockiness you’re instinct says is probably unjustified.

“If it’s information you’re looking for, have a seat.” he says, putting his boots down.

You hesitate, but decide to hear him out. You’re running out of time and he might be your best chance of finding a lead before Mando returns to find you missing from the Crest.

“You know where I can find this Vale?

“No, but I know someone who can.”

“I see, and how much is that introduction going to cost me? I don’t have any credits on me.”

“A date.”

“A date? Really?!” You make to get up and leave, but he reaches across the table to grab your wrist, keeping you in place. You casually move your other hand to slide down your leg and seek the knife you have hidden in your boot.

“Wait, wait...it’s not what it sounds like. Look, There’s a party at the palace tonight, and I could really use a date.”

“I thought the palace was abandoned?”

“Nah, that's just a rumor. True, there has been a bit of a power struggle since Jabba died, but Fortuna has assumed the mantle.”

“Go on.”

“He’s throwing some lavish party tonight to try and show off his power, flex his domain. He wants to impress the Hutt council.”

You hesitate….”and this helps me, how?”

“It just so happens, yours truly has an invitation.”

“You?....You have an invitation?”

“Hey,” he says rolling his shoulders in defense. “I’m an important guy.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying.”

No way is THIS guy an important figure in the crime syndicate.

“Ok, Ok…” he stops you again- and you really don’t like the way he doesn’t want to let go of your hand.

“Ok, I’m NOT an important guy...YET. But I do have an invitation. I’m trying to convince him to put me on his mercenary crew.”

“You? You’re a mercenary?” you say with furrowed brows.

“No, but HE doesn’t know that. Look….” he says squeezing your hand, “ I have an invitation to the party and they’d all take me a lot more seriously if I showed up with someone like you as a date.”

You look at where his hand is squeezing yours. It’s an awful plan, but maybe an awful plan is better than no plan at all?

This may be my only chance, there isn’t much time. You need to leave the city before he finds you.

“All I’m asking is you show up with me, have a few drinks, pretend to have a good time. The protocol droids at the palace have information on every smuggler that’s ever passed through Mos Eisley. If this Vale guy has passed through here, they’ll know.”

Your time is running out, he might already know you’ve gone.

“Fine…” you say, “but we leave NOW.”

“Alright…” he says with a roguish smile. Most women would consider it a panty-dropping smile and on most days you might agree. He’s good looking and has a nice body, but something about him is lacking. 

The lack of beskar?

“We’ll just have to make one quick stop on the way.”

“Where?” you ask, as he rises and extends a hand.

“Can’t go to a party dressed like that.”

“It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” you say shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s considered a luxurious dress to the Huttese, and you look incredible.” Torro- as he later introduced himself, says.

Your top- if it could even be considered one- consisted of two triangular shaped pieces of chainmail, one covering each breast, that came to a point just about your waistline.  The chainmail is made of tiny gold circles woven together with gold thread. It was sleeveless, backless and only secured at the top where it was attached to a choker that wrapped around your neck. A series of leather straps cover your most intimate parts and see-through navy silk secured with a belt hangs from  your waist down the center in the front and back, leaving your legs exposed. Your thighs are adorned with multilayered tiered garters made from the daintiest gold chains. Flat sandals are secured with straps that wrap around your calves. The lady at the shop had handed you a bottle of oil and insisted that you needed to slather it all over your body. There wasn’t much time to put effort into a hairstyle, so she wove some gold strands through a few braids around your crown and left the rest to hang freely down your back. You quickly lined your eyes with a smudge of black kohl and dabbed a tiny bit of color to your lips. You tucked the knife into the belt at your hip.

If I make it out of here in one piece, I can sell this outfit for a mint.

You didn’t trust Torro, but as you descended the stairs to the throne room, you were relieved to discover that he did indeed have an invitation. Dozens of species were in attendance. Entertainers of all sorts were performing various acts. A band played dance music while a leggy gal with a snout and painted lips belted out a song- out of key. There were also a half dozen armed guards lining the perimeter of the room- one at each entry and exit point.

You scan the room for droids finding one near Fortuna.

Must be his protocol droid.

Fortuna is sitting upon a stone throne surveying the crowd.

“Why don’t we head over to the bar?” you suggest- deciding that you’d rather avoid Fortuna altogether.

“Nah, let’s go introduce ourselves, say hello.”

Torro hooks his arm around your elbow and leads the way. You approach the throne and it doesn’t escape your notice that there’s a Twi-lek chained to the throne below.

“H'chu apenkee Torro,” Fortuna says jovially, as you approach.

Torro begins speaking in Huttese as well. You’re not entirely sure what they’re saying but the tone implies they are friendly with one another.

“De wanna wanga,” Torro replies.

He introduces you and it takes a great deal of effort to visibly hide your revulsion. Fortuna stares at you while Torro makes his small talk. His red eyes gleam as he taps his enormously long fingernails along a staff he holds in his hand.

Eventually he addresses you in basic, “Are you his?”

The question takes you off guard. Your not entirely sure what the safe answer is in this scenario,  but you answer directly.

“I belong to no one.”

He smiles a wicked smile- nearly every pointed tooth showing behind thin stretched lips. You give him your most winning smile and hope to the Maker it’s enough to hide how repulsed you are.

“Gi Shatta Gasha! U doba, nudd chaa!.....Enjoy the party!”

Torro thanks him again for the invitation and directs you toward the bar. You look back over your shoulder, and sure enough Fortuna’s eyes never leave you.

Torro orders a few drinks from a bartender of unknown species. You take one to be polite but have no intention of drinking it. Who knows what might be in it and you still didn’t trust the guy. When he isn’t looking, you casually dump the liquid out in increments.

The party continues and Torro seems happy to show you off. He introduces you to a few acquaintances- all of them seem like sleazeballs. All the time, you keep an eye on Fortuna and a location on his protocol droid. As soon as the droid made a move to leave his side, you’d corner it and extract the information you came for.

Finally, after some time waiting, Fortuna whispers an order to the droid. The droid descends the throne stairs and starts to make its way into the crowd.

It’s now or never.

You set your drink on the bar and turn to leave when Torro’s hand slides around the small of your back and around your waist, staying you.

“Is this a great party or what?”

“Mmmm.” Definitely, or what.

“It’s not every day you get to see a Mandalorian.”

Your head whips around. The crowd retreats a little near the bottom of the stairs to reveal a pissed off looking Mando. He doesn’t move,  his shoulders are tense and his hands are fisted. His helmet scans the room and comes to a stop when it lands on you.

Run.

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[wille-zarr]

The Mandalorian: “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Ten ~ “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated M for language; canon-level violence; angst; brief discussion of hunger/starvation; themes of parent/child separation; discussion of pregnancy; flirty rough-housing; character death

word count: 15.3k

chapter summary: when a dreaded face from your past emerges, everything in your new life, including your relationship with the mandalorian, is put under threat.

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: I’m really, really nervous for this one. 🙃Please read using the Ao3 link below if the length causes your app to crash! Also, MAJOR THANKS TO @sana-katarn​ WHO WAS A HUGE HELP.

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Ten: “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”

If Grandpa was alive to see this mess, he’d roll over and die again.

No.

No-

He’d find Thall.

Kill him.

Then die again.

“Stars,” you groan, leaning both palms on either side of the sink. Lifting your head, you glare at the face staring back at you from the refresher mirror.

Your face… it feels like it’s all you recognize of yourself these days…

You grit your teeth as shame weighs your eyes low, down your bare body, down to the speckled floor beneath your toes. You wiggle them to ground yourself- to reign in the disgrace squeezing at your chest.

…Dank Ferrik.

You press your eyes against the voice pushing, pushing at your consciousness.

…

I told you so…

I know, Grandpa.

I told you Thall was sketchy.

I know! Maker! Do you have to rub it in, Gramps?

Just wanted to point it out. And don’t call me Gramps. Makes me feel ancient.

Kark off. You’re dead.

…

I love you, Grandpa.

….

Kriff.

No one warned you that the worst part of growing up would be the realization your family was blasted correct about a lot of blasted things.

Hissing through your teeth, you fling your hand through the current of water flowing from the faucet, the droplets glittering across the reflected crown of your head.

Oh, fine. Fine!

You twist away- hand snapping up your shirt from the floor.

You’re used to everything going wrong. What’s new?

Another day, another “you’ll maybe possibly probably die.” Only this time, everyone’s survival rests upon you.

Big karkin’ yay.

If you survive this, you’re writing a book.

“Thall, how about you just kiss my- erf!-” the collar of your shirt catches your nose- “kiss my butt!” You yank on the edge of the hem until your head pops free.

“Just kark off-” you mash on the control panel, and the door opens with a snap- “straight to- YIPES!”

You fling backwards.

“GET OUT!”

Face exploding with warmth, you press behind the door. “What the hell! Can’t you knock?! I’m in my underwear, for Maker’s sake!”

Your shrieks are met with silence… so you peer around the corner…

Your wide eyes are greeted by the back of your Mandalorian intruder, the ends of his cape still twirling around at his heels from his own startled spin.

“Din, get OUT!” you hiss, ducking back behind the frame. You pull on the ends of your shirt, fighting to cover the bare skin of your thighs.

A strained, modulated groan slips around the doorframe.

“….d…r -s unl-ked.”

“What!?” you squeak, head ducking around to gawk at him. “Stop garbling, Djarin! I can’t-”

“Your door was unlocked!”

His words are sharp, strained.

“Anyone c-could have come in while you were showering and- and-”

“-Go away!”

You pat around the refresher counter, fingers gripping the closest thing within reach, and you hurl it-

“Out!”

“I can’t- Ka’r’ika! Is-… fresher paper?”

You bend around the door, watching as his gloved hands pick at the ribbon of white paper trailing across his shoulder.

You can’t help but grin.

“You look like shit, Mando.”

“Damn it, girl,” he grumbles, so low you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear it. “Can- can I… Dank Ferrik. Can I turn around now?”

“Blast it- no! Go away! I’m in my underwear!”

“What are you wearing underwear for-”

“Why am I wearing underwear? Did you really just-”

“I- I didn’t mean-”

“Some of us sleep in our underwear, Din! Gosh! What- do you sleep in your armor or something?”

...

“Oh my Maker. You sleep in your armor.”

...

“…No.”

...

A smirk quirks at the corner of your mouth, and you’re grateful he cannot relax at its sight. Stars, you take too much pleasure in making him squirm…

“Y-you’re not staying in here alone-” his voice strains- “not with hunters-”

“I’m safe-”

“-get in the bed.”

…

You blink.

…

His hands rise to his waist.

“Get in the bed.”

“Hmf.” You purse your lips. “Yes, karkin’ sir.”

Sticking your tongue out for good measure, you spin on your heel to sweep your pants up from the floor.

“Gosh,” you grumble, sticking a leg in as you hop one-legged towards the bed. You glance down at the print on your underwear. “I hope you didn’t get a good look- urg!” You lose your balance, slumping across the mattress.

 “Wouldn’t want this to be the way you find out I’m a horse girl…”

“What?”

“What?”

…

…

“…nothing.”

You hook the last button of your pants. “I guess you’re free to spin around now.”

He hesitates- then turns at your words.

“Look at you,” you snort. “Creeping in that dark corner.” You slide both legs beneath the comforter, pulling it up to just beneath your chin. “I’ll never get any sleep if you lurk over there. I’ll wreck my bike tomorrow, and it’ll be all your fault.”

…

Heavy sigh.

The Mandalorian emerges from the shadow-shrouded corner, and he flicks his fingers out at his side.

“Better?”

“Hmf, fine.”

You crinkle your nose.

“You can stay, but don’t stare at me all night like some dang rakghoul-” you scooch forward, pulling the comforter up over your head like a scarf, only your face visible- “trying to scare me.”

-a puff of modulated air.

“You’re not afraid of anything.”

The Mandalorian lumbers forward, fingers hooked on his belt.

“And that’s what concerns me.”

He pauses right beside your head, visor angled down to stare into your eyes.

“Come now, Mando. You scared the shit out of me on Taek.” You dramatically flop out flat across the bed, letting the comforter crumble around your body. “Thought for sure you’d kill me for being annoying.”

…

“You were afraid of me?”

You let your weak smile speak for itself.

“Hmf.”

He re-hooks his fingers on his belt.

“Could have fooled me-” his voice is light, teasing- “you were a mouthy little thing.”

Mouthy.

Mouthy??

Oh, you can show him mouthy-

You part your lips to snot off at Din, but his hand extends, pats the crumpled comforter, ripping your response straight from your mouth. You watch, brow quirked, as he pulls, smooths out the comforter around you. His visor lifts-

Oh.

Oh Maker just cast you in the Pit of Carkoon-

He can be so kriffing thoughtful and it’s really hot and you want to die-

Lowering your eyes, you grunt, picking at a loose thread to distract from that familiar squeeze, that ache in your chest.

Stop-

Stop.

You can’t get mixed up with this man-

You’re… you’re not able to-

…Someone’s going to get hurt.

…

“I… I- uh- talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

…

He tilts his head at that.

“Fine!” You throw a hand up, swallowing quickly. “... And- and when I’m not.”

“Hmm.”

“Still-” you jab a finger towards him, eager to just talk, distract yourself from that familiar warmth blooming in your chest- “I’d rather have been killed by you in the desert than spend another day on Taek.”

With a groan reminiscent of a wounded Kath Hound, you roll over onto your stomach- away from the Mandalorian.

“Kriff, so many sand stingers!”

A second roll, this time pulling the comforter along with you.

“And you can’t even eat them!”

A third roll.

“And I would know.”

A fourth roll- you stop, satisfied with the level of burrito-wrapping you’ve achieved.

“I tried.”

The Mandalorian has the audacity to chuckle.

“My lips were swollen for two days-” you wiggle, freeing your arms from their burrito prison- “and you laugh?”

“Ah.”

A small, strangled cough slips through the modulator.

“Sorry.”

You try your best to look angry- but you can’t resist the cheeky grin.

“Well, anyhow,” you sigh, re-crumpling the comforter around your body like a nesting mother bird. “Thank the Maker you flashed that Beskar of yours around like a baited hook, reeling me in like a fish.”

“Hmf.”

The Mandalorian leans forward, hands on his hips- his body casting a light shadow across your cheek.

“You would have found a way off without me.”

Rolling your eyes, you can only huff, “Yeah, blasted, right.”

You plunge your face, your grimace deep within your pillow.

“Blast it- I was so damn hungry; I was this close-” you lift up two fingers held closely together- “to resorting to cannibalism.” Your hand drops with a plop.

…

Truth be told… you have always wondered if Toydarian tastes like Nuna…

Heh.

…

-The bed jolts.

Your head shoots up.

You blink.

…

The Mandalorian-

-sitting beside you.

Close.

Very… close.

“Din?” Your hands fumble with the tangled comforter. “Wh-”

“I’m sorry.”

His tone is…

Angry.

He turns away from you, striking his fingers against his thigh armor in rapid succession.

Your eyelashes flutter, taken completely off-guard by his harsh admission.

“Uh…”

You sit up straight, eyes glued to the gleam of his helm.

“What exactly for?”

Oh, kark, what did he do?

Did you forget you should be mad about something?

“I should have taken you back to the Crest-” his shoulders shrug forward- “…the night we made our deal on Taek.”

The Mandalorian stops tapping- balls the comforter into his fist.

…

You blink.

…

“Maker, Din!”

Flopping back, you slap your hands across both eyes.

That’s it? Damn man is fretting over that?

With a dismissive flick of your hand, you can’t help but snicker. “Oh, come on, even if you had asked me to, I would have just written my obituary first- left it behind for the sand stingers.”

Grinning ear to ear, you, again, gather the comforter up over your head like a protective cocoon-

-just like the child does with his blanket, now that you think about it…

“I must say though, Mandalorian, you could have at least lugged off those two dead dudes you killed.” Crinkling your nose, you narrow your eyes at Din as he shifts, eases back against the wall, observing your movements with careful attention.

“Leaving me all alone with dead people-” you cluck your tongue- “very improper of you, Mr. Djarin.”

The Mandalorian tucks his head aside.

“You weren’t alone.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” The comforter slips forward, consuming your head entirely and entombing you in darkness. Pushing against the quilt, attempting to free yourself, you continue, “I- erf- had two decomposing-”

“-I stayed.”

Your hands drop.

…

“The entire night... on the roof.”

…

“Oh.”

Oh.

…

You sit in darkness.

…

The bed shifts, tilting you towards the movement-

The comforter is flung off your head, and your squint is met by your own face reflected in the Mandalorian’s visor.

“Are you still afraid of me?”

His words are tentative, but you hear their teasing edge.

Fine.

He wants to play.

You can handle “play.”

It’s easier than the truth.

…

“No, Mando.”

~Yes, Mando~

“I’m not.”

~I am~

“My terror for you was eradicated from my head the moment I was assaulted by the sight of your revolting bedroom quarters.”

~My terror is you’ll learn the truth about what I am~

“Your hair might be exceptionally soft and astoundingly fragrant, as your hair conditioner collection would imply-” you tap a finger atop his helmet- “but you’re messy, Din.”

~Seven Corellian hells, my life is messy oh my stars~

…

Silence.

…

“Hmm.”

His head jerks to the side.

“You’re welcome to clean it-” he shifts forward- “if it offends you.”

A smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth.

“I’d probably find something sentient growing in a dirty sock pile.”

The Mandalorian chuckles- a rumble… deep, low.

He leans forward-

-and you scuffle to the other side of the bed.

“S-Stars! Uh, well, enough about my fears. Um, tell me-” you let your feet dangle off the side of the bed opposite from him- “what scares a Mandalorian?”

Uhg.

You tried to force a light-hearted tone; pull on one of your phony masks- but…it seems the longer time goes on-

-the more it’s impossible to pretend with Din.

This… is bad.

Especially when you have as many damn secrets to keep as you do.

You can’t help but cringe.

Kriffin’ dune worm on a stick!

Cautiously, you sneak a quick glance over your shoulder, finding Din’s position on the bed unchanged. He stares down at his hands as if lost, buried within his own thoughts.

“I’m-”

He pauses.

…

“I’m afraid of making the wrong choices...”

…

“Not being strong enough to protect... who I care about.”

…

…

Your lips part.

Well.

…

A light-hearted question.

A serious answer.

You take a deep breath, letting it steady, refocus your spiraling, spinning mind.

“Din,” you mumble, throwing his name over your shoulder. “If… if this is about the baby...”

Stars, the baby.

…

Hell… you- you can’t have this conversation right now.

How do you-

Do you just-?

“The- the responsibility of a child-” you reach up; rub your browline with trembling fingers- “it’s the single most…”

You pause.

“Th-the single most-”

…

terrifying-

exhilarating-

rewarding-

punishing-

fulfilling-

painful-

you- you can’t breathe-

“Ka’r’ika?”

You jolt forward at your name.

“Ka’r’ika, are you-”

“Being a parent-” put on your mask put on your mask- “you feel so… big and so… small.”

Dank Ferrik…

“You’re too small to forge the galaxy you want for them, no matter how much you fight for it.”

Your hand slips beneath your shirt, clenching the pendent you wear close to your heart. “But you’re big, so big- you’re everything to them- their whole galaxy.”

Your eyes slide shut.

Her- her voice will come back to you if you just stay quiet and- and-

…

“Mama, what this for?”

Even your excruciating exhaustion can’t suppress your grin. “Your belly button?” With a grunt, you lift Valera up from the cot, placing her down atop your legs.

“Well, you little womp rat… uh…”

Stars, how do you explain this to a kid?

“It’s… uh… how you ate food when you were growing in my tummy.”

She shoots you an incredulous little eyebrow lift.

Oh great-

She’s already picking up your sass.

Serves you kriffin’ right.

Your fingers wrap around the pendant hanging from Valera’s neck.

“Watch the attitude, kid.”

You give the necklace a few short tugs, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Mama!”

“Ka’r’ika?”

Oh!

You jerk around-

-Din.

“Is something… wrong?”

 “Yeah- uh, yeah.” You cough- clear your throat. “I just, dang it-” you slap your thigh- “get emotional thinking about little kids, ya know? So darned cute, the little monsters.”

He’s… not convinced.

But he doesn’t push it.

That’s… all you need from him right now.

“Look, Din. I- I know you’ll make the decision you think is right for the kid…” You lower your voice- make it easier to hide the waver. “It’s- it’s all we can do.”

...

“But you don’t… approve of my choice.”

No.

You don’t.

“I stand by everything I said before... mostly.” Your eyes lower, glaring down at the comforter. “Just make sure you aren’t making the choice to send him to a Jedi out of fear... fear of not being good enough for him.”

…

You glance back up.

“Because you are.”

...

“Ka’r’ika…”

So soft.

He always says it so soft-

“Your opinion…”

His visor dips away, almost bashfully.

“It means a lot to me.”

You blink.

“Really? Mine?”

It certainly didn’t feel that way during your argument on the Crest…

Sliding his fingers across the leather of his belt, he makes a slight choking sound.

“I… regret the things I said to you before.”

…

“I- you were saying things I didn’t want to hear...”

He turns, stares over at you.

“You’re not selfish.... far from it.”

You hold his gaze.

That damn daze.

…

“Well...” you mumble. “I shouldn’t have blown up on you either. I- I let my personal bias cloud my head and heat my tongue...”

You break the gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

…

Silence.

…

Oh stars.

You shouldn’t do it.

…

You’re gunna do it.

“Well, Mando-” energy floods your voice- “I’m flattered you hunted me down and killed a Rancor just to apologize to me.” Crawling beneath the comforter, you don’t fight the smirk cracking across your face

“Truly, Din, it means the galaxy to me.”

You scooch over further, further until-

“W-what are you-”

“Shut up.” You shove a hand into his side. “I’m trying to sleep.”

You lean against his arm, your head drooping down…

…

…

“Din.”

…

…

“Din.”

…

“Oh my gosh, kriffin’ relax, Din!”

You pull away from him. “Stop tensing! It’s like trying to sleep next to a blasted boulder!”

“It is not.”

“Loosen up!”

“I am loose.”

Oh.

You know how to loosen him up.

You jump up to your knees, staring him down.

“Hand. Now.”

…

The Mandalorian gawks at you. Or, at least, you imagine he’d be gawking if it weren’t for the, ya know, helmet.

“Din Djarin.”

You shove your open palm at him.

“Let me hold your damn hand.”

One breath-

…

Two breaths-

…

Three breaths-

His hand, warm and- kark!- so damn large, slips into your own.

“If I die tomorrow-” you give his hand a tight squeeze- “I want you to remember me like this.”

He grunts.

“Domineering and demanding?”

“You know I can hear you.” Rolling your eyes, you sigh dramatically, “As I was saying, remember me like this.” You squeeze his hand a second time-

He returns the squeeze-

“Maybe I’d rather remember the time you fell into that mud-hole on Arvala-” his free hand reaches out- tugs on your ear lobe- “and I had to pull you out while the kids laughed at us.”

You whack away his hand. “Oh, come on, Din-”

“Or maybe I’d rather remember the time you sang to the Blurgs.”

“I was bullied into tha-”

“Or the time you fell asleep in my shirt- drooled all over it.”

“Kriff off! I did not.” You yank on his hand, drawing him forward. “How would you even know?” You lean into him, squishing your nose to his visor.

“You never-

do-

your-

karking-

laundry.”

…

Din just chuckles.

Oh oh Maker his chuckle is so sexy and damn it damn it-

…

You’ve… you’ve got it bad.

Crinkling your nose, you pull away, sinking down- down- down into the comforter. “Well, you’re being mean to me. I’m going to bed.”

A… thought occurs.

…

Oh, Banthabreath.

Life is short. Do it.

“Din?”

Your eyes twist, staring up into his visor from where you lay on the bed. He watches; does not break the gaze as you reach out- grab his hand again. With a sharp tug, his glove slips right off, revealing- stars- that hand, those fingers that have haunted your daydreams since they first brushed across your lips.

Warm.

Callused.

Scarred.

Oh Maker.

If you’re losing it over a blasted hand and voice- a kneecap reveal would have you deceased.

You sigh.

“Din, tell me- uh…”

Naked skin dusts across your jaw- “Uh… Din?” -traces your earlobe- “Do- do you really plan to, uh…” -trails down your neck- “…s-stay all night?”

-his fingers pause at your collarbone.

…

“Yes.”

He resumes stroking his fingers slowly, languidly across your collarbone.

“Humor an old man, Ka’r’ika.”

You blink at him.

Old?

Huh.

Now that he mentions it…

“How old are you?” you blurt.

He freezes.

…

Oh, you just killed the mood, didn’t you?

…

Dank Ferrik.

“I’m just curious.” You lift a brow, a slight smile upon your lips. “You do grunt and groan a lot.”

The Mandalorian makes a sharp noise- tears his hand away.

“Young enough to pull you out of mud holes.”

…

You narrow your eyes at him.

…

“…Late thirties.”

Ah.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, shoving against his shoulder. “Just trying to construct a mental image of how I think you might look.”

Din huffs- crosses his arms across his chest like a sullen child.

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’ll ever see it!” You jump up to your knees. “I should at least be allowed to imagine.”

“I could never live up to your fanatical imagination, Ka’r’ika.”

“What, are ya ugly or something?”

“…No.”

“Are ya hot?”

“Hardly.”

“Oh my gosh don’t say that about yourself.”

“You’ve never seen my face,” he grumbles. “You don’t know what I’m working with here.”

“Shut up.”

“The helmet is an improvement.”

“It is pretty sexy,” you laugh.

…

Silence.

Oh kriffing hells-

Did you just say-

Oh stars-

…

You hope you die tomorrow.

Shaking your head, you snort. “Fine. Whatever.”

-just change the topic change the topic-

“Uh, so, uh, tell me-” you lean in closer to him- “what does Ka’r’ika really mean? You can’t lie to me anymore- I know it doesn’t mean brat.”

“You’re right.”

He, too, leans forward-

“It means pain in the ass.”

“DIN DJARIN!”

The comforter launches over your head, plunging you into darkness. You kick and roll and yell- the comforter and sheets tangling up around you- but you can’t get free-

-because the kriffing metal idiot is holding it down.

“Let me OUT!” you shriek, kicking upwards with your feet. “I’m going to KILL YOU!”

Weight lifts from the comforter.

You fling it off, and your flaming eyes immediately turn towards-

“So, you’re going to kill me?”

Damn that smug voice!

Your hand shoots out, a sharp smack landing against his unarmored thigh.

“Ouch!”

“Eat. Banthashi- OOF!”

You’re catapulted backwards- heaved across the bed. You roll, landing up on all fours.

“Why YOU-”

“Go to sleep.”

-smack-

“DJARIN!”

You grip your ass.

“Did- did you just spank…?”

…

Oh.

Oh, it’s on now-

You fling up, firing yourself at his chest, bursting into shrieks as he easily knocks you aside.

“HEY!”

But the Mandalorian goes for you this time.

His hands grasp your hips, shoves you back behind him. You pounce again- wrap your limbs around his back- you’re yanked forward with an oof. You retaliate, jabbing your hand towards his exposed side- he grabs, stops you- but then-

His arms have you pinned- trapping you against the bed with his weight.

“G-give u-up now, bounty hunter!” You wriggle; his grip only tightens. “I-I’ve- erf- got you, Mando!”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak…. just… stares down at you.

“Yeah.”

He dips his helmet to the side.

"You’ve got me.”

…

You both burst into giggles.

“Hell, M-Mando!” you say, gasping for air between your giggles. “I’m- stars!- crying!”

"Hm.”

A light -pat- smacks against your thigh.

“Go to sleep.”

Your grin stretches ear-to-ear. “Yes, sir.”

…

Oh Maker, you’re really done for.

You quiet your laughter, shimmying back beneath the comforter, keenly aware that you might regret every bit of this impulsive behavior in the morning…

But for now?

You roll up against the Mandalorian, curling up against his side. You tuck your face-

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

His hand drops to your shoulder- moves up- stops… a tickle against the back of your neck, his fingers tracing tiny circles…

“Ka’r’ika.”

"Mhm? What? Leave me alone.”

….

“It means… ‘Dear Star’.”

…

Oh-

Oh.

...

Oh shit.

“Sweet dreams… Ka’r’ika.”

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

“See you later, Babycakes.”

“Bye, Cara!”

“The hell-” you shoot Pablo an incredulous look- “Babycakes?”

“What?”

“Please don’t answer to that in public.”

“It’s too late,” Pablo sighs, turning your racing helmet over in his hands. “I’ve answered to it twice today.”

A small smirk tickles your lips.

“Then can I call you Sweetcheeks?”

“Oh, I think the hell not-”

“Fine,” you chuckle, taking a pinch of his cheek. “Sweetcheeks it is.”

“I hate you.”

A grin cracks your face. Hey now, if he can call you Sweetheart, you can call him Sweetcheeks.

It’s only fair.

With a heavy sigh, Pablo shoves the helmet back into your hands. “Well, guess it’s back up to Thall’s skybox for me. I- uh-” his hand shoots out, pats your shoulder- “…Don’t die.”

“Pablo, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You press a hand to his chest. “I knew you cared.”

“Yeah, well,” Pablo sighs, knocking your hand off his chest. “I’ll admit, my motivations are sullied… I might have credits down on you.”

“Oh karkin’ dunes.”

“Karkin’ dunes, what?” He throws out his hands. “That’s good! It means I believe in you!”

“Kark you.”

But your smile betrays your words.

Pablo laughs- flashes you a quick wink before turning away. “Now go- win me some credits, Sweetheart,” he yells over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to a casino and let you spend them!”

“Love you, too, Sweetcheeks!”

“Love you more!”

“You answered to it!”

“… Damn it!”

…

Heh.

Pablo really is just-

-“LINE UP WARNING.”

Oh stars-

-“REPEAT. LINE UP WARNING.”

Oh stars oh stars oh stars-

Groaning like a dying Bantha, you press a gloved hand to your browline.

Hell, that cocky, confident little shit you were as a teen?

…

Yeah, you’re not so confident right now.

“I know you’ll win-”

You spin around.

“-you always did.”

“Tesen,” you say, reaching out to accept his hug. “Dank Ferrik, man! I looked over my old speederbike this morning and- wow- you really did a fantastic job on her!”

Maker- the trouble you got into on that old bike… How are you even still alive? 

Tesen chuckles- a rumble beneath your cheek. “After you disappeared, others tried taking her out on runs. But only you could get her to do the things she’s capable of.”

He pulls back.

“I kept her for the memories.” 

A cheeky grin bursts across your face. “You know I’d trust no one else but you with her.”

His eyes brighten, and he opens his mouth to-

-“LINE. UP. WARNING.”

Groaning, you stare up into Tesen’s eyes.

“I’d wish you luck-” he winks- “-but I know you don’t need it.”

“Maybe not....” A coy smile turns up your lips. “But I could still do with my traditional good luck kiss. As my friend, would you mind… since Gavon isn’t here anymore to do me the honor?”

Tesen laughs- deep, hearty-

“Well, I am a good friend.”

He bends down- hesitates- hovering just above your face-

“Tesen, yo-”

Warm lips press to yours.

Oh hell yeah-

You wrap your arms around his waist.

Gosh, you’re pathetic. One friendly little kiss, and those cocky, confident teenage vibes are pulsing through your bloodstream.

Pretty sure you could wrestle a dewback…

“Aww! How sweet!”

Pulling away, you grit your teeth at Thall’s voice booming over the loudspeaker. Your eyes shoot up to the sky.

Stars, you could kill that man…

“Hello, hello everyone!”

Tesen tears away from you- meeting your eyes one final time before sweeping away-

-leaving you all alone.

Just you and your bike.

To win this dang race.

Or die.

At this point, if your friends didn’t need you to actually- you know- win, you’d accept either outcome.

“As we all know, one half of our kissing duo down there-”

“We’re just friends!”

“-is none other than our long-lost Blazing Womprat-”

The nickname snaps you into gear.

Oh yeah.

Time to play the part.

-“former champion of the Boska Springs Classic!”

Climbing up on your speederbike, you stand on the seat, throwing both hands in the air. You stare up into the cameras defiantly, as if you’d already won the kriffing race.

You wave your hands again, the crowd exploding into jests and cheers and shouts.

Dank Ferrik-

You swallow back the goofy grin itching to bloom across your face.

-don’t ruin your image.

You know you must play the part they expect to see on the circuit.

Blazing Womprat-

Brash.

Arrogant.

And batshit crazy.

Maker, how you missed this- this rush. Whether it be racing, singing, or otherwise, you love playing to the crowd…

And they’re eating it up.

“E CHU TA!”

Well…. almost everyone…

You sneer down at your fellow racers, observing their rather rude gestures.

“EAT MY BIKE EXHAUST-”

Your middle fingers jab at the sky.

“-YOU ABSOLUTE ROAD WORMS.”

The racers start towards you-

“How exciting! Back to your bikes… yes, thank you, yes, please don’t kill her… thank you!”

Snickering to yourself, you fall down into the seat, hooking your boots in position on the pedals.

“The race is simple enough- first out to the Castle Rock to run up their flag and back, wins!”

You slip your helmet on-

“I don’t care what path you take-”

You tug at your gloves, ensuring they’re snug between each finger-

“Nor do I care what you do during the race!”

You flip down the visor of your helmet, your entire head and face protected-

“It’s all part of the fun!”

You lean forward- gripping the steering-

“Now, various organic beings… start your engines!”

-and your speederbike roars to life, pulsating beneath your body like a caged racehorse ready to run.

…

Wait-

…

It… just hit you…

Din- he-

-he never showed up.

…

Why would he avoid you, especially before an event this serious? Sure, he was… strange, aloof this morning just before he left you. But to be honest, so were you.

Waking up tangled in each other’s arms tends to do that.

…

Hells… if- if your behavior last night… ruined your friendship with him…

Oh stars, you’ll never forgive yourself.

He… but he promised that he’d speak to you before the race…

…

He never showed.

He never-

“Ka’r’ika-”

You scream-

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What the kark, Mando!” You lean back, twisting your helmet around to stare up at the crowd. “Get out of my helmet! You’re ruining my focus.”

You grin.

The Mandalorian kept his word… sort of.

“Sorry… just…”

You stare up at Thall’s skybox, the teasing gleam of Beskar vaguely visible through the glass.

“…stay safe.”

The static of the connection cuts.

…

You’re alone.

…

…

“READY…”

Your engine revs-

RED LIGHT-

Your bike pulsates-

YELLOW LIGHT-

Your grip tightens-

…

…

…

 Wait a minute…

…

GREEN LIGHT-

The speederbikes burst into the distance- gone, out of sight within a blink of an eye.

…

You stay still.

Unmoving.

Staring out at the distance.

“Uhhhh…. Go?”

You stare.

You feel it…

You… feel it…

You-

The wind lashes, nearly knocking you from your bike with a yelp. You hold on for dear life as the crowd screams, ducking down into their own seats to avoid the brutal pounding.

But more importantly-

The sky darkens in the distance-

A monstrous dust cloud swoops across the sand-

-straight for the scattered bikers blasting across the dunes.

And-

you grin.

High-pitched screams and crashing metal reverberate across the dunes.

…

…time to go.

You push forward-

-and blast off.

…

Avoiding the starving, all-consuming dust cloud, you swing to the right.

It’s a risky route.

But you’ve studied it.

You know what you’re doing…

…hopefully.

Movement catches your eye-

A miniature speederbike zooms up to your right- a creature no bigger than the baby just- screeches at you.

“What the fuck!”

A second bike smashes into your left.

“What the fuck!” you shriek, swinging to avoid another swipe.

You accelerate- push forward on the controls.

Get away get away-

Ah!

There- looming in the distance.

The cliffs.

Turning knobs with a snap, you hold your speed steady- maintaining your direction-

“OOF!”

The end of your speederbike slides to the right- the attacking biker heaves back- preparing to try again-

You blast forward-

-straight for the cliff walls.

You release a bark of laughter- the sound swallowed by the wind whooshing past.

Try following me now.

The cliff wall looms closer- closer- closer-

You drop to the right, hanging off the side of your bike as far as you can without falling off-

-shooting beneath the cliff walls and straight into a small cave that’s barely tall enough for even your bike to fit.

The handles of your bike scrape the rock formation looming mere inches above your head- you yelp at the sparks showering your body.

Well, thank the Maker this jumpsuit is fireproof…

Movement-

 Your head twists to the right-

That karkin’ little creature on his karkin’ little speederbike… grins at you- waves his hand as if to say “See? I fit, dumbass.”

You growl.

Oh, hell no.

…Approaching light.

You bust out of the cave, shooting straight up in your seat. You swing to the right- kick your foot out-

-the little creature flings into oblivion.

…

You’re alone again.

You push forward, gritting your teeth, and accelerate to full throttle.

You’re coming to an intersection in the path- this is where other racers might start to- ah! There!

Three bikes, crowding into one another, swerve around a column of boulders-

The lead speederbike trails straight for you.

Oh, Dank Ferrik.

Not again-

You scream as your speederbike lurches- rolls into tight, spinning loops. The bike that smashed into you barrels past-

You grit your teeth.

Get back here, you little-

You ram the back of his bike, grinning as he flings forward over his handlebars- run over by his own bike.

And yours.

Oopsie.

Castle Rock is approaching- it should be directly to the left- on the opposite side of the cliff wall blocking your line of sight.

You cut the corner- the roar of the remaining speederbikes still howling in your ear.

You punch the booster controls on your bike- but…

You’re painfully aware of a new shake, a new tremor of the bike that wasn’t there before.

Oh dear…

Hope this doesn’t backfire- literally.

With a groan, you blast into the canyon between the cliffs- giving your bike all it’s got.

Your mind blanks-

Instinct.

…

You’re running on instinct.

You swerve to the left- right- sharp right-

The roar of the speederbikes fade into the distance, left completely in your dust.

Heh.

The Blazing Womprat lives up to her name.

Oh, heck, here we go-

-You need to take a sharp left up ahead or you’ll completely miss Castle Rock-

You lift your left boot from the pedal- slide it across your seat- throwing every bit of your weight into the turn.

Your grip starts to slip- gloves desperately hold on for dear life. With a pathetic groan, you straighten, lift-

-There, Castle Rock!

And not another bike in sight.

You hit the brakes, sputtering to a stop. The thunder of engines storm in the distance behind you- you leap from your seat-

And you run for dear life.

The flags- the flags! Up ahead! At the top!

With a grunt, you scurry, fumble your way up the boulders-

“Get out of my way!”

Your head shoots back- other bikers have arrived, parked at the base of Castle Rock.

Oh, you don’t think so…

“Oops!” You grunt, shoving hard at a loose rock with your boot. “Sorry!” you yelp as they leap out of the tumbling rock’s path, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Giggling beneath your breath, you scamper to the top, the flagpoles just within r-

-PING-

-PING-

You scream- a bullet ricochets off your helmet.

“Seven Corellian hells!” you screech, stumbling to the ground.

Tuskans!

Damn it!

You clamber to your feet, pushing forward with all your might.

Bullets shower the ground, the pings mixing with the yelps of your fellow racers. “Kark off!” you scream at a Weequay as he barrels past you-

then drops dead.

Well, he karked off, all right.

Nice shot, Tuskans.

Not slowing in the least bit, you snatch up your flag color, hooking it to the-

“OOPS… heehee!”

You gasp- a Rodian- he… he cut your flagline.

You snarl at his fleeing back.

…

Fine.

Sticking the flag between your teeth, you grip the pole with your hands and begin to climb. Dank Ferrik- what the hell even is this race?

Ignoring the pings flying around you and praying they miss, you reach the top and tie off your flag.

A bell rings.

Done.

You’re first.

You’re cleared to go.

With a pained sigh, you take advantage of your height to observe the sight down below.

Grinning at the scuffle, the fight breaking out between the racers all fumbling to avoid both bullets and one another’s sabotage…

…an idea occurs.

You reposition your weight, careful to not lose your grip and slip down the pole into the chaos below… One deep breath… and you leap the gap, clasping onto the second flagpole for dear life.

“Hey!”

You stare down at a furious Twi’lek.

“Get down!”

You grin.

“Okay!”

Biting your lip, you wrap the flagline one… two… three times around your glove, tugging to ensure a good grip.

Oh, this is the dumbest idea ever-

With a grunt, you release the pole and-

You swing forward- and back- forward- and back-

…screaming like a wild Lothcat in heat.

With each swing, you feel the pole shift beneath you, loosening from its shallow base.

“WHAT ARE YOU-”

“Yipe!”

With an audible snap, the pole breaks from its foundation- cascading to the ground…

…and taking every single flagpole to the right down with it.

With an oof, you hit the ground, hard. Peeling your head up with a groan, you turn-

…

“Get her!”

Time to go.

You jump- jump- jump- down the boulders, not bothering to check the height. You just gotta to get the kriff out of there.

You’re so close.

Flinging yourself across the seat, you blast into the horizon, straight in the direction of the starting line.

You’re so close-

Engines rev in the distance.

…

You’re so close.

Thumb hovering over your thrusters- a speederbike emerges in the distance-

…it’s time for a shortcut.

A cliff to your right, it’s a steep drop, but you think you can…

Gritting your teeth, you accelerate, pushing what power is left within your bike into- you scream, sailing straight over the edge of the cliff.

Your thumb punches the reverse boosters, keeping your bike from smashing into a thousand pieces on the ground below. Speederbike clattering and clanking from the stress, you hit level ground and-

You made it.

“Holy Hutt!” you groan, the words shaky in the air from the brutal reverberations of your engine.

You’re… you’re going to win.

You keep your path straight, flying over the sand dunes.

You’re going to win.

You’re going to-

You scream-

A force-

A burst of light-

You soar through the air-

You scream-

…

…

…

Darkness.

…

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

…

…

Ignoring the abrupt shock of the harsh Sularian winter air, you race from your home, running straight down the mountain path.

"Starlight?”

You don’t stop at your father’s voice. You run faster- swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Starlight!”

A hand grabs at your shoulder.

“Let m-me go!” you yell between your sobs, shoving at his hand. “I-I’m going to l-live wi-with G-Grandpa!”

“Hey, little one-” he spins you around; pulls you into his chest- “deep breaths, hm?”

“I’m- I’m not… little!” You sniff, pushing away from him. “I’m ten and r-running away!”

"Can I come?”

…

You stare at him, the sobs easing from your body.

“Huh?” -sniff- sniff- “What?”

He plops down on the snow beside you- staring up at the stars dusting the sky.

“Running away doesn’t solve anything, Starlight-” he looks at you, flashes you a lop-sided smile- “you know that, right?”

You pout your lips.

“But Mama is so… so… unfair!” You stomp your foot and flop down beside him. “She’s so mean with me! She likes Kalara more!”

He doesn’t chastise your outburst.

He just… grunts- rests his rifle across his lap.

"Starlight.”

You keep your eyes turned to the ground, shame burning your cheeks.

"What happened?”

…

“I… I hit Kalara- but she said I was mean first! And Mama took her side!”

…

A heavy sigh.

He reaches down, grasps your pendant in his hand.

"Do you know why you wear this?”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Because I’m the ‘oldest’,” you mock.

He lets it drop back against your chest. “Watch the attitude, kid. You wear it because, as the oldest-” his tone, while gentle as always, eases into something more serious- “you set an example to your little brothers and sisters. They look up to you and want to be like you.”

“They do not!”

“Do too.” He pokes your stomach, and you can’t help but giggle. “This necklace is a reminder of your responsibility…” His mouth quirks into a smirk. “Of your influence.”

"I don’t want it!”

“Well, Starlight,” he chuckles. “I can’t help you being born first, but I promise, one day, you’ll appreciate your little brothers and sisters.” He hooks a finger on his belt. “And one day, you’ll give that same pendant to your first born, if you wish, just as generations of our family before you have.”

“Eww!”

“Eww!” he mocks back.

You blink down at the pendant, curiosity blooming in your chest…

"If this was yours before I was born and you gave it to me-” you look up at him- “does that mean you were the oldest?”

He stares into the distance, quiets…

…

“Yes.”

…

“Oh.”

…

"Did… did you apr-chi-ate them?”

"‘Appreciate’. And yes.” He looks down at you, that lop-sided smile slowly returning. “I did very much.”

"…Do you miss them?”

He glances away, stares up into the starry sky.

“Very much.”

You blink- a wash of fear- fear for your brothers and sisters hitting you like a blizzard breeze and- and-

“Don’t be sad, Starlight.” He taps your pendant; points to the sky. “They are with the stars… I’ll see them again.”

He stands, heaves his rifle against his shoulder, and motions you to follow.

“Come, let’s go inside. I think someone has a few apologizes to make?”

“But Mama is mad at me…” you groan.

“I promise,” he chuckles, taking your hand in his own. “No matter what you do…”

…

“…your mother and I will hold you in our hearts…”

…

“…for eternity…”

…

…

…

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

The Mandalorian’s licking your face what the HELL-

Your eyes blast open-

“W-what?”

Something wet swipes your eyes. “Yipes!” You squint, throwing your arm across your face. “What the blasted- oh.”

…

A… dog.

Massiff dog.

…

Not… Din.

…

Oh.

The dog tilts his head at you, his tongue drooping out the side of its mouth.

“In my defense, you kinda look like Din though,” you giggle, patting the dog’s hard exterior. “You goofy little thing…”

Sighing, you reach up to rub your face…

Wait.

Where- where’s your helmet’s visor…? Why’s it… busted out…?

…

…

“OH BLASTED STARS.”

You scramble to your feet- a mistake. You cry at the pain that shoots, throbs from head to toe. “Damn it, damn it!” you groan, hobbling forward as your memory floods you all at once.

The dog mistakes your agony for playtime, hopping up and down, up and down, dancing little wiggle-butt circles around you.

“Back, dog! Back!” Your eyes scan the sky-

…Oh no.

It’s… the sun’s setting.

It’s evening.

No, no!

“Kriffin’ hells!” you moan, fingers digging into your palms. “My bike! My bike? I got to- where?”

…

There.

In the distance.

You grit your teeth.

…

…Sandcrawler.

“Stupid JAWAS!”

You burst forward, growling through every last ache. “Get BACK here!” you shriek, launching your helmet at the still-very-much-far-away sandcrawler. “Little thieves! I ought to- OOF!”

The dog cuts in front of you, dashing alongside your right.

“Dang it!” you yelp. “If you’re coming too, then help, not hinder!”

The dog just howls- gleeful and blissfully unaware of everything but “run. fast run.”

“Oh, Maker help me,” you moan.

You’re close enough now that the Jawas have noticed you. Hanging out of their little windows and doors, they begin screeching at you.

“Kark off!” you scream back, nearly tripping over your own feet. “And give me my blasted bike, or I’ll- OUCH!”

Whatever they threw- it damn well hurt.

…You shoulda left your helmet on.

The dog picks up the object in its mouth and brings it straight to you.

“O-oh… st-stars!” you puff, increasing your speed. You throw the object at a Jawa hanging from an open window. “H-hey, dog, maybe you are useful, hmm?”

Your praise must have confused the dog. He yelps once, turns around, begins running butt-first.

“Oh hell.”

Close enough now, you reach up, grip a pipe on the side of the crawler.

“Open, now!” you demand, banging on the metal.

A slot opens- you slap at the Jawa- it screams- slams the slot shut.

A higher window opens- something’s launched- you scream- it screams- the window shuts.

You wish you could say playing whack-a-mole with Jawas was the strangest thing you’ve done today…

“Dank Ferrik,” you groan, eyeing the Massiff dog running circles below your feet.

You’re getting into this thing if it kills you, so help you-

“Dank FERRIK!”

The jolt of the sandcrawler sends you hurling towards the ground.

“Force…”

You slowly, gingerly lift your head…

Stopped.

The sandcrawler… stopped.

…

Why…

You look up- the Jawas have the slots and windows peaked open, glancing around towards the front of the crawler…

…

They slam them shut.

…

Uh oh…

“Dog, I… I think we might be in trouble- wait!”

But it’s too late- the Massiff dog is darting towards the front of the crawler.

…

Silence.

…

Oh, what the hell.

You’re not leaving without your dog.

Pressing against the sandcrawler, you ease, creep your way forward. Closer… closer… closer-

-until you’re just one head peek away from seeing what’s caught the Jawa’s attention…

…

 Do… do you peek?

Or run?

…

Oh Huttsludge.

Maybe the Jawas-

“I’ve been watching you, little one.”

OH STARS OH STARS STARS STARS.

…

WHAT DO YOU DO?

…

You squeeze your eyes closed.

Oh, what the Corellian crap use is there in hiding?

He’s knows you’re here!

So-

You peek around-

…

A man.

…

A terrifying man.

…

You duck your head back.

…

…

You’re dead.

…

“Hey!” you hiss up at a Jawa. “Whatever beef we had before, we’re on the same side now. Let me in!”

The door slams shut.

“Why you-”

“Hello there, Princess-”

You shriek.

“Stay away!” you yelp, pressing your back up against the sandcrawler. “Or I’ll- I’ll stick my Massiff on you!”

Right on cue, the Massiff bolts past your legs, flying straight for the strange man-

-and drops- wiggling around on his back, begging the scary man for attention.

…

Great.

The man huffs, bends down to pat the Massiff’s exposed belly.

“I see you’ve trained it well.”

…

“Thanks…?”

Wait, was that an insult?

…

“I mean you no harm, Princess.”

Amused.

He’s… amused.

The man glances up at you, throws his hood back.

My stars, you observe his gnarled appearance. What… what terrible thing happened to him?

You almost blurt the question… almost.

“Who are you? What’s your name?” you ask instead, rather empowered by the fact he hasn’t yet- you know- killed you.

“I’m just a simple man making my way through the galaxy-” his gaze intensifies- “like my father before me.”

…

“Got an easier to remember name?”

“I’d rather learn yours.”

…

Is he… flirting?

…

Oh my gosh he’s flirting. Okay, you know what? The grizzled look is actually really hot. Like hot, hot. And, wow, he’s a big guy and you like big guys oh my gosh he’s flirting-

With a lop-sided smirk, you call out your first name. “But you can keep calling me Princess.”

The man chuckles, pats the Massiff one last time, and stands.

“I was speaking to the dog.”

…

“Oh.”

Damn it.

…

You glance at the Massiff.

“…Noodles?”

“A solid name.”

“Thanks.”

…

Okay, what the actual hell is this conversation-

You shake your head, knowing you should be afraid, terrified... but in your defense, it’s rather hard to feel that way while bonding with your potential killer over a dog.

“So… uh, what the hell do you want?”

The man lumbers forward, hands folded behind his back, as if… contemplating something.

“Your Mandalorian friend-”

He pauses, his imposing frame casting a cool shadow across your face.

“-he has something that belongs to me.” The man turns his eyes, so kriffing intense, to stare you down.

“And you can take me to it.”

“Uhhh….” You blink, words escaping your brain. “What… is it?”

“My armor.”

…

“All I request… is my armor returned.”

Gulping, you shake your head, afraid to give him your honest answer. “I-I’ve not seen any armor, but-”

“You might want to consider my words carefully, little one.”

His words slice the air.

“You and the Mandalorian have a rather large bounty on your head.” The man bends down, crouches upon the sand. “According to this chip-” he lifts his hand; a small data chip gleams in the setting sun- “that I took off the corpse of the man… that blew you in the air.”

Your mouth plummets to the ground.

“W-what?!”

He just stares up at you, waiting patiently for you to process his words.

“Damn it,” you growl, sinking down to the ground in front of him.

“If- and that’s if- I knew where this armor might be located-” you look up at him, brows furrowing- “why should I trust that you won’t still try and claim that bounty on us?”

He doesn’t speak- just holds your gaze.

…

His fist holding the datachip rises in the air-

-and crushes the chip into a thousand microscopic shards.

“You and your friends need to leave before more return.”

You gape down at the shimmering shards.

Stars, note to self, do not piss this guy off…

“News of this race, and your presence, will spread to the wrong ears.”

“Uhh…” You turn to stare at the retreating figure of the man in black. “Hey! Wait!” You leap to your feet, rushing right after him. “See that’s the problem- my friends are kind of…. uh, trapped by Thall.”

The man makes a noise.

“I will assist you if-”

“-you regain your armor,” you finish, rolling your eyes.

The first hint of a smile dusts his lips.

“What is your answer, then, Princess?”

…It’s not like you have a choice.

Your friends… Din… are still under Thall’s snare. For all you know, now that you’re out of the way, Thall- kark!- might make Din fight again!

…

You can’t let that happen.

You throw both hands on your hips- purse your lips.

“We have a deal.”

The man nods sharply, accepting your answer before turning, prowling down the length of the sandcrawler.

“I have an insider feeding me information from within Thall’s complex.” His strides are heavy, yet quick. You struggle to keep pace. “She will contact me with the necessary information, but for right now-”

-a screech splits the air.

You gasp- twist-

The Massiff stumbles around from the back of the crawler-

-dragging a behind it a writhing Jawa.

…

The man in black grunts.

“We need your bike.”

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

You need to scream.

Of all ways for this day to go, you never dreamed it would be riding back to the Razor Crest sitting in a strange man’s lap.

Well, not in his lap… but might as well be.

You wanted to drive. After all, it is your bike, which was thankfully undamaged enough to still ride at lower speeds, but he didn’t exactly give you a choice… You press back against his chest, sneaking a sharp glance to the left and right, gulping at how blasted thick and strong his arms that have you caged in are…

Boba Fett.

At least you now have his name.

It’s the very least you should know, considering your current intimate positioning.

Boba’s hand releases the bike’s handle- grips your shoulder to steady your body as you turn-

Stars-

Stars this is so awkward and you want to fling yourself to the ground you don’t care how fast you’re going-

But if you did that, Noodles would have to go too, since he’s squatted on the seat in front of you, your arms wrapped tightly around his body to keep him from jumping off at high speeds. And no matter how much you’re willing to potentially threaten your own life, you draw the karkin’ line at endangering animals.

Noodles glances back at you, tongue flapping in the wind, as if to say thank you kind ma’am for the hug.

…

…

The sky is pitch black, the air cool, biting, by the time you arrive at Peli’s hanger. Almighty stars, it feels like centuries since you last saw… there!

The Razor Crest!

You can’t believe you’re actually home!

You pause.

Home?...

…huh.

Stars, you can almost imagine… Din. Standing at the base of the ramp. Head angled at you as you run forward, holding the baby-

…the baby. Din. Cara. Pablo. Kark.

You… you need to hurry.

“Let me find someone before you go inside-” you yank off your gloves, toss them aside- “and your armor should be inside the ship… somewhere- I guess-”

A shrill squeak rips the rest of the words from your lips.

“Baby!” you gasp. You rush forward, crumpling to your knees. “Hey, little fella!” Your voice shoots ten octaves high as you squeeze, squish the little guy to your chest.

“Hey, hey-” you whisper, rubbing his head as his little squeaks intensify.

Crying.

He’s… crying-

“I know, I know.”

Kriffing hells.

“You’ve been alone too long.”

Damn it, damn it.

You’re going to cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“But you’re not alone now, hmm?” You pull back, force a cheesy grin to stretch across your face. “See? I’m back. Did Peli take good care of you?”

“AHHHH!”

You press the baby close- spin-

“4PO!” Peli screeches, racing around the side of the Crest. “MASSIFF DOG! PROTECT US!”

The droid hobbles around- stops-

<sensing potential threat>

…

<commencing deactivation protocol>

…

“Oh, kriffing hells…”

You glance over at the hanger door, locating the deadly Noodles…

…all four legs in the air as Boba pats his belly.

He gives you a bare hint of a smile.

“Excellent.”

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

 “Handsome little mister,” you sing, grinning ear-to-ear. “Gotta look snazzy to go rescue Daddy, hmm?”

The baby just stares at you, clearly unimpressed with his new threads.

“Come now. I’m the fun parent,” you laugh, straightening his little suspenders. “Tell you what, if you don’t like it by tomorrow-” you sit down beside him- “I promise I won’t make you wear it again. We’ll try something else I bought you in town.”

The baby grabs a sock off the table- throws it to the ground with a scream.

“Okay.” You quirk a brow. “We hate socks today, that’s fine.” You lean forward, pressing a quick kiss against his head.

The baby’s grabby hands reach up, begging to be held. Without hesitation, you lift him up and place him down in your lap.

“That nice man should be finished dressing soon,” you absentmindedly mumble, twisting your eyes to watch Peli buzz around the back of the hanger. “And then we’re going to- oh.”

A little tug around your neck pulls your attention back down-

The baby- he’s tugging on the twine of your necklace.

“Ah,” you chuckle, pulling the pendant out from beneath your shirt.

“You want to look?”

He stares up at you, into your eyes.

…

…

-pressure-

…

you feel…warm pressure-

…

it dusts against…

…

It’s… it’s like…. something’s pressing against a- a membrane…

….

-pressure-

…

-a thick membrane in your mind and-

…

w-what- is-?

Body trembling, you press back-

the membrane slips and- and-

…

“Mother?”

You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth.

Who..? Wh-what just-?

Something dusts your hand, and you jolt in your seat- eyes shifting down…

…

“Was… was that you?” you whisper, eyes blasting wide open.

The baby only giggles.

…

…

Oh kriff.

…

You flop back in the chair, stare up at the sky.

“Is this a… force thing?”

You’re speaking to yourself more than anything…

“Holy kark,” you groan, slapping your hands across your eyes. “…These kinds of powers are beyond my pay grade….”

Dank Ferrik, you knew you should have paid closer attention to your mother’s lessons… She was as close to an expert on the force as any Jedi, you suppose... Was it your fault you would rather be with your dad, learning how to effectively hit your siblings with stick spears? Mama damn near bored you to death with her long lectures of “light side energy.”

…Whatever that means.

See? You should have paid attention, Dank Ferrik!

The baby tugs on your necklace again.

You blink.

-pressure-

This time, you let the membrane slip right away.

“You are Mother?”

You just… stare.

“Feel force.”

…

“I, uh…”

“Feel her.”

…

His… his question-

Are you a Mother?

…

Emotion scalds the back of your throat.

…

“Yes…”

He… he feels her.

“This… this belonged to my little girl.”

The necklace-

…He feels her.

“A-and mine. And my father’s.” Your voice softens, affection dusting each and every word. “Going back generations.”

Swallowing down the lump, the ache squeezing in your chest, you force a tight smile.

-the warmth brushes against your mind-

-you open up- let him back in-

…

“Grogu.”

…

You blink-

“Grogu?”

He bursts into little squeals.

“Is that your name, Bean Dip? Grogu?”

The little toothy grin he flashes you is the only confirmation you need. Matching his grin with one of your own, you laugh- pull him close.

“Can I still call you Bean Dip sometimes?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer- instead grabs at your necklace again, studying it intently.

You can only… smile at his interest…

You… remember Valera doing the very same thing… grabbing at it- sticking it in her mouth- drooling all over it-

…

Hell.

…

…

“Hey, hey, Grogu-” your voice wavers- you clear your throat- “You know… I’m- I’m always losing things.”

Deep breath.

“Would you mind… keeping this for me?”

You slip the necklace over his head, letting it fall loose. You reach out, pat it against his belly.

…yes.

For the time being…

…this is where it belongs.

Ignoring your welling ache, you force another tight smile.

“I think-” you give the necklace a few short tugs- “it completes your ‘let’s rescue daddy’ outfit perfectly.”

…He agrees.

“Holy Mudslug!” Peli’s yelp tears at your attention. “Look at ‘em!”

You glance up-

-and your stomach squeezes.

…

Oh.

Oh no.

…

Mandalorian.

…

“Fett!” you bark, setting the baby down. You leap to your feet, stomp to the bottom of the ramp.

“You mean to tell me that you’re a Mandalorian?” You stare up at Boba defiantly, feet set apart and hands thrown on your hips. “And you just… forgot to mention that?”

Dank Ferrik! When Boba said “armor,” you assumed it was, like, biking armor or something.

…

But Beskar?

…Well…now you understand why he wanted it back so badly…

Boba doesn’t react to your little outburst- just… crosses his wrists in front of him, staring down at you with that damn unreadable visor.

“Oh! Great! Another Mandalorian,” Peli grumbles, sweeping past you, a broom gripped in her hand. “You know, my hanger was the safest place on Tatooine-” she shakes her broom at Boba- “until you Mandalorians started showing up!”

“Peli! Come now-” you grasp her broom, forcing her to lower it- “how many have you even serviced? Mandalorians are practically extinct.”

“Counting yours and this green guy?”

You nod.

Peli glances up at the sky, counting on her fingers.

“Two.”

…

“But I want him out of here!” she squawks- shoving a hand in the air at him.

“You’ll have your wish soon, ma’am.”

Amusement laces Boba’s deep tone- thank the Maker.

“And I am beholding to your…kind hospitality.”

“Weeellll,” Peli blushes, eyes darting around at the ground. “I- I guess it’s fine if you stay- but not much longer!”

Peli shoots you a glare and snatches her broom back from your hands. She jabs her thumb at the ship. “Watch him; he’s a big -un.”

…

Sigh.

…

Twisting back around, you frown at Boba's darkened visor.

“I thought Mandalorians didn’t show their faces?”

-a sharp huff.

“Never said I was one.”

You blink.

“Then… the armor…?”

“Mandalorians are complicated, Princess.”

…What the hecking Hutt does that mean? Is he or isn’t he one?

…oh.

…forget it.

Crossing your arms, you shift your weight to one leg.

“Well, what now?”

“My contact has informed me that your friends are to be taken to a location out in the desert- unsure why.” Boba hulks down the ramp, patting your shoulder as he passes by.

“Stars!” you groan, pulling your hat down low.

This… can’t be good.

Din…

Just… hold on, Din.

“I have the coordinates.” Loading his belt with charges, Boba steals a quick glance at you- noting your expression. “Don’t worry, little one,” he chuckles. “We’ll have your babysitter back in one piece shortly.”

“I can assure you,” you huff, a small smile teasing at the corner of your mouth. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Undoubtably.”

You release a pained sigh, flick your hat back out of your face.

“Well then, I guess it’s time to-” movement draws your attention; you turn just in time to watch Grogu slide the remaining pile of socks to the ground- “…go.”

“Hey, if you’re leaving-” Peli stalks forward, cleaning her hands with a rag. “I guess that means I won’t see the rest of you again, huh?”

You give Peli a wry smile.

Peli sighs, slaps the side of your arm.

“Do me a favor then.”

She scurries away, muttering under her breath.

…

“Uhhh… Peli?”

She turns back around the corner, arm motioning at something hidden behind a stack of crates.

“Come on- don’t be shy.”

…

Oh, hell no-

“I’ve decided to make the ultimate sacrifice-” Peli pushes 4PO forward- “and gift 4PO here as a parting gift-”

“No.”

-“to Pablo.”

“Oh.”

…

Peli leans into you- covers her mouth with a hand.

“I think the two of them really bonded.”

…

“Peli-” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into laughter- “I would be more than happy to present to Pablo 4PO on your behalf.”

“Oh ho! Fantastic!” Peli cackles, clapping her hands together. “Droid, get on up that ramp!”

4PO shakes- falls prostrate on the ground.

…

…

You’re beginning to relate a little too much to this droid.

…

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

“I’ll tie you up, Princess.”

“No!” You rush after Boba, pulling your blaster from its holster. “I’m going too! You can’t-”

“You want to help?” snaps Fett’s contact, a helmeted woman named Fennec. “Then stay out of our way.”

You sneer. “How about I-”

“Princess-”

Boba turns on his heel, grips your shoulder.

“Stay with the ship.” His tone is hard, biting. “And stay in this cave.”

…

“Do I make myself clear?”

…

Your mouth opens… closes.

Please…

Please just let me come.

But Boba is not the kind of man to relent to a pair of pleading eyes- he reaches out, nudges your chin with his knuckles.

“Keep your commlink on-” his voice is… softer, but nowhere near sympathetic- “and keep it close.”

And then just like that-

They’re gone, blasting away across the sand dunes.

Leaving you all alone in eerie…

Silence.

…

Corellian hells.

You crumple to the ground, your face buried in your hands. You inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tightly closed in a poor attempt to keep from absolutely losing it.

…

A fight to the death.

A fight to the death-

What if-

What if they don’t get there in time? What if someone’s already dead? Stars! Pablo is all bark and no bite- he’ll be the first to croak! And- and Cara- and Din, kark… damn it, damn it, damn. IT-

“ARG!” You leap to your feet, snarling up at the rising twin suns, as if they were somehow to blame for your mess.

Stay behind?

…

You blink.

Stay behind, your ass.

With one final glare, you spin around- marching back inside the mouth of the cave. You rush past Boba’s own starship- making a direct path towards the Razor Crest.

“Grogu!” you yelp, racing inside the belly of the Crest. “I’ve got to go, baby. Stay in this ship-” you fling open the Mandalorian’s storage unit packed with weapons- “and do absolutely nothing.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you let your eyes graze across Din’s pride and joys-

What the hell do some of these even do?

Which should you-

…

Oh.

You… you’ve seen that one before.

…

Your hand hesitates, then snatches the rifle from the rack.

“4PO-” you bark, loading your pockets with ammo. “Keep the ship on lockdown. You can manage that, hm?”

<lockdown protocol prevents killers from boarding.>

“That’s kind of the point of a lockdown,” you grumble, slamming the storage doors shut.

<excellent. your request is acceptable.>

You spin around on your heel, looking for-

“Grogu.”

There he is- sound asleep, little face buried against the Massiff’s belly-

-and your pendant clenched tightly in his hand.

…

Stay.

You should… stay for him.

If- if something happens to Din, he will need you.

…

He needs… he needs-

-hold on.

…

…Rumbling?

The ground outside the ramp is… rumbling- pebbles and loosened dirt sprinkling down from the cave’s ceiling.

Something’s flying overhead.

This… can’t be good-

With a miserable groan, you start forward, pausing just before the exit.

You glance back-

“We’ll all be back soon, Grogu, I promise.” You stare at the sleeping child’s form. He doesn’t so much as even stir at your words.

“And I mean all of us.”

…

“I promise.”

…

And with one final breath, you run down the ramp- the baby left behind, cocooned within the belly of his home.

Dashing forward, you emerge from the mouth of the cave just in time to catch fleeting sight… of…

…

-a hitch, a catch in your breath.

…

…

Damn it.

…

…

Th-the symbol on that ship-

You… you only caught a brief glimpse, but…

…

Shit.

…

Nok.

Kriffing Nok is here?

You- you have to leave Tatooine.

-kriffing now.

…

If- if you take your speederbike, leave immediately, y-you could take a shuttle and…

…

…

Leave?

…But-

But if you leave again…

Heart squeezing- shredded into a thousand fraying strands, you glance back at the mouth of the cave.

…

…

Running away doesn’t solve anything, Starlight.

…

…

Kark it.

…

You’re done running.

This time, you fight.

…

You’re not leaving Tatooine without your boys.

…

…

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

-BOOM-

You slam on your speederbike’s breaks, the bike groaning against the force. You waste no time in shutting it off, launching from the seat before it’s even fully stopped.

-BLAST-

Dank ferrik dank ferrik dank ferrik-

-BLAST-

-BLAST-

Growling through your teeth, you push forward, rifle held in a death grip against your side.

“Gunna try and kill my Mandalorian?” you snarl. “And my friends? Oh, I think the hell not, Thall. Eat blaster dust!”

You skid to a stop- boots sliding within inches of an…. uh, extraordinarily high descent.

Dropping to your knees, you peer over the edge of the cliff, peer at the canyon floor far, far down below.

What’s going on?

Where-?

You gasp, pressing a hand to your mouth.

Holy Kowakian monkey lizard!

Your eyes widen, watching as flamethrowers and blaster bolts and bodies fly and fling and throw-

Those who aren’t sprawled out on the ground karkin’ dead are certainly about to be karkin’ dead. The crowds- the pleasure barges- Thall- are long gone, no doubt fled when extra firepower arrived in the form of a pissed-off Boba Fett and co.

In fact, to you, it looks like they’ve just about wiped the canyon clean.

Holy Huttslug! You purse your lips. They didn’t leave anyone for you, darn it.

Ah well.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you lay out flat on your stomach. You knock your hat back, positioning the scope of the rifle against your eye.

“Din!” you laugh, watching as he stabs a Weequay in the chest. “Get ‘em, baby! Oh my gosh GET HIM! Hell YEAH!”

Reaching down into your pockets, you retrieve the extra ammo- loading the rifle with-

“Ayyeeaaaaa!”

You gasp, and you peer back through the scopes, zooming in to watch as your friends… whoop and cheer.

Oh, they did it! They actually blasted did it!

A grin cracks across your face, your anxiety pushed to the back of your mind for the time being. Because for now?  

THEY BLASTED DID IT!

Giggling, you pull up your knees, prepared to leap up and-

…Wait a minute- who is that? He’s not-

-you freeze.

…

Oh.

…

Oh no.

Hissing through your teeth, you drop to your belly, press the scopes against your eye. There- Nok- approaching the group. He stops- stands several yards away from your friends.

…

Nok… what the hell is he doing here? That slimy Huttscum! Shavit! Just… shavit! What does that- that spiteful man want?

…

“Crink it!” You smash your fist against the ground. ��Blast!”

This is bad. Really, really bad.

…

They’re- they’re all talking together. His hands are up now- What- what are they saying?

Kark

Kark!

What- what do you- oh kriff oh kriff-

You pull your twitching eye away from the scope- glance down at your belt.

…an idea.

“Fett,” you mumble into the communicator. “No questions- turn on your comm.”

You watch Boba through the scopes- he does not scan his surroundings, does not try and look around for you. He just… reaches up, taps his helmet.

-static- “-not here ..r you.”

Nok’s voice is faint, hard to make out. You curse, turning up the comm’s volume as loudly as it will allow.

“What do you want?”

You jump at Din’s voice, cutting in loud and clear through your comm channel. Biting your lip, you are frozen with panic and fear and oh blast what should you do Nok will ruin everything what do you do-?

…

Kriff!

You press, squeeze your eyes closed-

You… you can’t go back.

Your lower lip trembles.

…You can’t go back!

…

“Don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t particularly want to be here either, but I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” Nok answers Din. “I’m here to present to you an offer.”

No- no you trust nothing coming from Nok- nothing!

“ …What kind of offer?”

Oh stars. With a sharp inhale of air, you raise, hover your scopes just above their heads, watching, listening-

“There’s a woman you’ve been traveling with. If you hand her over into my care-” Nok sighs, leans to one side as if bored- “you will be compensated generously in return for your cooperation.”

Oh-

Oh stars- NO!

You’re not going back to Nar Shaddaa. You can’t-

Nok- he needs to shut up-

Shut up before he ruins everything!

“Request- denied.”  The Mandalorian’s tone is… hell- he might kill this man himself. “How much-” he steps forward- “how much to call off the hunters you have on her?”

Nok just chuckles.

“You mean my patron? My patron is not the one who called the hunters on her … Believe me, I’d enjoy nothing more than watch her hunted down, personally. But my patron is… concerned for her. Wishes to shield her. And, alas, I am at his beck and call.”

“Your patron?” you snarl, tightening the grip on your rifle. You hover it just above Nok’s head. “Your patron can eat Banthashit, Nok, and you along with him. I’m not. going. back. Especially not with you.”

“What makes you think that I’d agree to this?” The Mandalorian’s tone is… dangerously calm.

“You can keep running, but she will be tracked down eventually,” Nok chuckles, clearly amused by all this- this mess you’re in- the kriffing creep. “This isn’t going away, Mandalorian.”

Hell-

You’re so… tempted to shoot him before he talks, blabs and ruins everything! Din- kark!- your past, it would ruin everything. He’d… he’d be disgusted and… and-

“This isn’t your problem, Mandalorian,” Nok sighs.

“…Her problems-” the Mandalorian’s hand inches towards his blaster- “are my problems.”

You blink.

…Stars.

“You really don’t have any idea what this involves, do you?” Nok laughs- brighter than you ever thought him capable of. How comforting to know your predicament brings him so much blasted joy. Maker knows the man is miserable otherwise.

Nok takes a step forward.

“You may know who she is, but it’s clear you don’t know what she is.”

Shut up shut up shut up.

Nok’s going to ruin everything. Din will- he will… damn it. You’re going to burst-

“My patron had hoped we could do this the clean, easy way. Avoid future bloodshed.”

…

The Mandalorian takes a slow, deliberate step forward.

“That’s where you were mistaken.”

He draws his blaster-

“Because not only would I die for her-” he points the weapon at Nok- “I’d kill.”

You pull away from your scope, mouth gaping open.

You- you never realized…

…

But… of course that’s how he feels.

“So, you go back to your patron-” the Mandalorian reholsters his weapon, his tone cool, even- “and you tell him that.”

Nok shakes his head, sighs. “Well, only if you promise to tell her I look forward to seeing her again very soon… in the latest fashion of prison restraints.”

The Mandalorian storms forward- drawing his weapon- Nok draws his-

They freeze- stare at each other.

“Oh great, she really has you under her thumb, doesn’t she?” Nok snorts, waving his weapon to the side. “You should reconsider. She’s selfish, you know. She’ll throw you aside as soon as she no longer needs you. Never cared about anything or anyone except herself and that little brat of hers.”

He chuckles- leans forward-

“Let’s just say it was hilarious irony …

…what happened to the little girl.”

…

…

Hilarious irony…

…

Hilarious irony-

…

Hilarious-

Red flashes- flashes in your eyes-

…

…

You- you’re-

…

…Hilarious irony.

…

…

The dam holding back your terror and grief and fury…

Erupts-

…

See you in hell, bastard.

…

You pull the trigger.

…

And you don’t miss.

Shouting- shouting from down below-

Damn it- they… they can’t find you here! You need to go!

With a sharp inhale of breath, you aim your rifle sights at a safe, yet convincing, distance from your friends, and-

-BLAST-

-BLAST-

-BLAST-

“Take cover!”

And at Cara’s muffled cry, you stumble up to your feet… and run.

Oh Maker, how are you- yipes! Jetpack- you hear a jetpack! Go-

GO!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you choke back the sob, the howl threatening to tear from your lips. Flinging yourself across the speederbike, you ignore the warning tremors of the damaged bike, blasting across the dunes and away from the scene of your crime.

…

But you’re not finished yet.

You have to find Nok’s ship.

Wipe the computers.

Dump it out in the desert to rot.

…

But… but before it’s wiped… there’s something you must take from the starship’s computers…

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

<tier 1 security clearance code request>

-security code: 345-453

<security clearance code APPROVED>

<drellik computer archives accessed>

<how may i assist you?>

-begin download on all encrypted data filed under: valera dayne

<tier 3 security clearance code request>

-security code: starlight-2171

<security clearance code APPROVED>

<file download estimated between 1 and 3 standard hours to completion. commence with download?>

-yes

<command accepted. please enjoy our selection of jazz instrumentals while we select your files>

-have i not suffered enough today?

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

“WHERE have you BEEN?”

You lift your dry, burning eyes, spying Pablo- baby on his hip and Massiff at his heels- rushing down the ramp of the Crest.

“We’ve been searching hours for you!” He pulls you into a one-armed hug. The Massiff- Noodles, you suppose- not one to be left out of the fun, wiggle-butt dances around you for 3.5 seconds until he’s distracted by a moth.

“Stars,” you groan, every achy muscle and bruise throbbing at Pablo’s touch. You open your mouth to say something, but a sharp squeak steals those words from your lips.

You glance down.

“Little fella.” Flashing a tired smile, you reach out, taking the babbling child from Pablo’s hip. “See? I told you we’d be back!” 

He stares up at you- giggles, and your tired smiles warms. The kid didn’t need the force to communicate with you this time. You know- can feel- what he’s feeling…

He’s… he’s really, really glad you’re back.

“Well, looks like you’re all in one piece, Bean Dip.” You quirk a brow, reaching out to stroke Grogu’s ear. “A miracle, if you’ve been in Pablo’s care all day…”

“The hell, Sweetheart?” Pablo throws his hands on his hips. “Is that the thanks I get? I’ve done nothing today but wipe up drool, chase after the kid, clean up after him- oh, and that thing?”

He glares at Noodles- busy running laps around Fett’s starship and howling at dust particles.

“It shit on the floor.”

Heh.

Good dog.

“Look Pablo, we can fuss about that later,” you sigh, legs trembling with exhaustion. You pull the baby closer, his presence a… comfort… A comfort you need right now as things are about to get…uh, complicated.

“You said… everyone’s out searching for me?”

“All day practically.” Pablo crosses his arms. “Mando was hell-bent on finding you before sundown… which is just about now, coincidentally.”

You swallow back the lump in your throat.

“I… I see.”

…

“What- what happened-” you bite your lip- “after my bike… kaboomed?”

Pablo huffs, flashes you a look. “The cameras following your bike cut immediately. And Thall refused to let us go rescue you and said he’d send his own men instead… which, uh, the Mandalorian did not take well… to put it mildly.”

You grit your teeth.

Thall- you scumbag.

“Mando annihilated half his security team, and-” Pablo shrugs- “according to that Fett guy, you know the rest of the story. With their help, we demolished Thall’s men- we didn’t die- and now you’re back! Overall, a successful trip to Tatooine, I suppose…”

…

Dank Ferrik…

That… look he just gave you. He’s… holding back about Nok, about the- the things he said. Maker! You- keep it together.

Keep it together for the-

“Ka’r’ika?”

You whirl-

“Din, I-”

-you’re swept up.

His arms clutch, grab at your body like you might disappear, float away, if he dared let go.

“Ner Ka’r’ika.”

His voice is hoarse… strained.

You bury your grimace against his chest.

Stars stars stars! What- does he suspect? What does he think of you after- after Nok’s… rantings?

You-

You can’t do this-

You can’t do this!

You lift your free hand, and shove at his chest. Din jolts, tears back, and the comfort of his hold slips away, leaving your body abandoned and starving for warmth.

You’ve startled him. He’s giving you that little head-tilt, the one he uses when he can’t quite figure you the kriff out.

“Din.” You force a light-hearted tone, adjusting the baby against your hip. “Uh, hi.”

…

He pauses, then dips his helmet forward- scanning your grungy appearance up and down. Keeping his left hand stiff against his side- he reaches up with the other, presses the gloved hand against your cheek.

“Look at me.”

You swallow- staring at anything but his visor.

He tentatively, carefully turns your face- inspecting the flowering bruises.

“Are you okay?”

…

“Nothing’s broken.” You swallow again. “I’ll live.”

“Kid’s built of tough stuff.”

Your eyes widen, shoot to the right-

Boba.

Kark- he knows- he knows you were at the canyon. He… he answered your comm. Of course he knows! Did he tell?

“She launched a hundred feet into the air and was up and fighting Jawas within the hour.”

You flash him a faint smile. “I landed on my hard head.” You grip Din’s hand still pressed to your cheek, drawing it away.

“Good to see you in one piece, Blazing Womprat,” Cara chuckles, unstrapping a rifle from her side. “Which is truly astounding after some of those insane stunts you pulled.” She steps forward, stops beside Pablo. “Pablo almost passed out from cheering too hard.”

“That was nothing.” You can’t resist the self-satisfied smirk that flicks up at the corner of your mouth. “You should see me-”

“-on a swoopbike.”

You stare at Din.

“Where have you been?”

Kriff, you knew the question would come eventually. You… hope your story checks out- that Boba doesn’t ruin things.

You place the baby down, letting him toddle across the ground towards Pablo.

“I decided to go a bit outside the cave, check around, you know?” Shaky breath. “One of Thall’s transports spotted me- recognized me… So, I, uh, took the bike out, far, far away from the Crest, as fast as I could in its damaged state, hoping to keep it… hidden.” Trembling hands in pockets. “Worked great until I got turned around. Took me a while to find my way back.”

…do they believe you?

Your eyes sweep across their faces- their shoulders relaxing...

They believe you.

…

But… then there’s Boba, and possibly Fennec. You- you need to talk to them.

“Well,” Pablo sighs. “What a way to spend the day… So, what now?”

“We’ve talked it over-”

You turn to Din.

“For tonight, we stay in this cave. Lay low. Analyze the situation tomorrow.”

Heavy sigh.

You… can’t argue with that. Laying low- resting… For one night, you need it. You need it desperately.

“Sounds like bedtime,” Pablo sighs, already blazing a path for the Crest. You watch, blinking, as the rest follow suit, each leaving for their respective ships.

“Pablo,” you call out, voice traced with exhaustion. “Take Noodles inside.”

“The hell?”

“My dog.”

“…No way! That thing is not sleeping in-”

“Noodles!” Cara calls, laughing as the dog highspeed races up the ramp.

“Your dog?”

You turn at Din’s rasp-

Stars… you want to cry at the stiffness, the rigidity in his body… You know you caused it, but…

“It’s going to eat bad people for me on Keolith.”

…

He just grunts at that.

Stars…

Pulling your hat low across your brows, you sigh, “Go on to bed, Mando. I- I think I’m going to spend some time on… Fett’s ship…”

You need space.

…

You need space to think.

…

“And maybe… maybe stay the night.”

The Mandalorian’s arms drop.

…

…

…

“……Okay.”

…

And just like that, he’s scooped the child up into his arms- trudging away towards the Razor Crest, cape fluttering at his heels.

…

Damn it.

You stare at the Crest.

…

That… came out wrong.

…

…

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

“Princess,” Boba smirks, lifting a glass as you walk through the door.

You discovered Boba and Fennec where you expected- sitting in the cockpit of his ship… as if they knew you were coming.

“No thanks.” You throw your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”

Something flies at your head- you catch it.

Opening the palm of your hand, you gawk down at-

“Next time,” Boba chuckles, “don’t leave your commlink at the scene of a hit job.”

…

“Oh.”

You swallow.

“Oops?”

“Nice shot.” Fennec smirks. “And here I thought you were inexperienced.”

…

You are inexperienced…

“Lucky first-time assassination, is all.” A pang knocks against your chest cavity. “Beginner’s luck?”

Oh stars, stop trying to be cute. Now’s not the time- you’re having a mental crisis for Maker’s sake-

“Thank you for not saying anything,” you mumble, eyes flicking between Boba and Fennec. “It… would have put me in an awkward position.”

…

You bite your lower lip…

Just blurt it out.

“Boba,” you sigh, “why are you helping me?”

…

Arms pressed against his thighs, Boba leans forward.

“Just fulfilling my end of the deal.”

Something… flicks in his eyes- the first time you’ve seen his mask… falter.

…oh.

…

He’s lying.

“Go, Princess-” a dust of a smile shadows his face- “you’re with the wrong Mandalorian tonight.”

…He’s right.

And with a deep grimace, you head for the door-

“I would have shot him too-”

You glance back at Boba.

“-if that helps you.”

You flash him a small smile.

…

It does…

…

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

“Where’s… uh, Mando?” you ask, head popping up into the Crest’s cockpit from the ladder below.

Pablo shrugs, focused intently on his card game with Cara.

“In his room.” Cara smashes a card on the dash- Pablo erupts into groans.

"Pay up, Babycakes…”

With a roll of your eyes, you begin descending the ladder. When your feet touch the floor, you freeze- overwhelmed, paralyzed with… anxiety?

Damn it… it’s… just Mando…

Just… do it!

Pursing your lips, you march past a prostrate 4PO with a snoring Noodles- all four feet in the air- resting beside him. And with one final march forward, you find yourself right at the Mandalorian’s door…

…

“…Mando?”

knock- knock-

“Uh, can I… come in?”

…

…

“It’s unlocked.”

Chewing on your lower lip, the door snaps open beneath your touch.

…

“Din?” you call out hesitantly, sticking your head inside.

“Thought you were with Fett.”

Your eyes turn in the direction of the refresher.

…

“His… ship smelled weird.”

The refresher door snaps open, and Din steps out-

“BLAST!” you yelp, stumbling backwards. “What the hell! Where’s your armor!?”

Dank Ferrik! It’s- it’s like looking at the man naked! Should you, you don’t know, spin away!?

Din just… tilts his helmet at you- rests his hands at the waist of his flight suit.

“I don’t sleep in my armor.”

…oh.

You lean back against the closed door, listening as Din shuffles around the room.

Kriff! What do you say? … Why isn’t he saying anything? Oh gosh oh gosh-

“Where’s the baby?” you blurt, beginning to turn towards him. “Is he- OH-”

ARM REVEAL.

…

OH SHIT.

SHIT.

KRIFFING GUNS-FOR-DAYS.

“I put him down in the bunk.”

“Huh?” you puff, snapping your eyes away from his… his big-ass GUNS- oh kriff.

“The child-” Din steps over a pile of junk to open a drawer- “he was... fussy.” He pauses… hooks his thumbs on his suspenders. “I thought… maybe he’d sleep better near your scent.”

Oh-

Oh stop just throw you into the pits of Carkoon will you.

Shoulders slumping forward, you groan inwardly- using every bit of your determination to not bolt right out the door.

Oh kriff, you hate this- this awkwardness. Just… ask him something! And for the love of all things good and holy- DON’T STARE AT HIS ARMS.

“What are you, uh, doing?”

“Going to bed.”

“Oh.”

…

You blink.

…

“Okay, goodnight-”

Flinging around, you reach for the door, but a hand, a grip on your wrist pulls you back.

“What are you doing?” you snap, stumbling at the motion.

“You need a real bed.”

“So do you.”

“I know.”

Oh.

Oh.

…

Well then.

…

Hell yeah.

…

You let him lead you, guide you around a pile of clothing- like a shepherd leading his flock through a minefield… only instead of a minefield it’s Din’s rancid room.

…But that’s an argument for another day.

Pausing at the foot of his bed- his visor trails down your legs…

"Sit.”

Damn it if you won’t obey. Stars, you’re pathetic.

“Din, what are you-”

He drops to his knees- bare fingers fumbling with the laces of your dust-caked boots. You watch- fighting to keep your expression neutral as the ridiculous man begins to remove your shoes for you.

…You also have to fight to not stare at his exposed arms and blasted-broad shoulders, but you’re much less successful at that part…

“Best be careful, Din Djarin.” A small smirk begins to grow. “I could get really used to this kind of treatment.”

“Who was he?”

You blink.

“…Huh?”

“That-” Din’s fingers pause- “that man.”

 Your mouth pops open at his… vehemency.

“Boba?” You quirk a brow down at him.

Blast- what does Din… what does Din think?

He remains… silent, removing your second boot without a word.

“That man you kissed,” he puffs.

You blink… oooooohhh….

Leaning to your side, you pick at a loose thread on the bed. “He’s a… friend.”

“Looked like more than a friend,” the grumble slips beneath his helm. He stands, flicks a hand at you.

“Get out of those clothes.”

Thank the Maker- a topic change!

With a heavy sigh, you march yourself over to his drawers. You didn’t have to ask- you���re well beyond the asking stage.

“Mando?” you toss over your shoulder. “Um…What’s your favorite color?”

…

“Red.”

…

You can do red.

Snatching a scarlet flannel from the drawer, you slam it shut- sweeping into the refresher to change. As you remove your grimy clothes, you stare in the mirror at the scars- the marks on your forearm.

“You know, Mando,” you shout through the closed door, forcing your eyes away from the baggage of your past. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if the world hadn’t imploded under your feet as a kid? I know I do.”

Talking comes easier when you can’t see him….

…

Footsteps… shuffling… drawers opening and closing-

“Working my father’s trade…” Silence. “He was… a carpenter.”

Your fingers pause mid-buttoning. “Sounds… peaceful.” Unlike bounty hunting, goes unsaid.

“I think-” you reach for a towel- “that I’d have left Sularia, for sure. As much as I loved it…”

As much as you miss it…

“…There wasn’t much to do in the mountains except get married, have kids, chase kids, heard animals, shovel snow, fucking yodel… you get the picture.”

The door snaps open, and you press the side of your face against the doorframe. “I’ve always craved excitement, much to my parent’s displeasure…”

There he is- Din- sitting on the side of the bed… watching you.

He tilts his head forward- leans against his thighs. “I’d say you found yourself that excitement,” he snorts.

Understatement of the year.

Aches mixing with your exhaustion, you release a pained groan as you ease next to him on the bed. Body sinking in on itself, you brush, lean against his side.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

“Will you leave us again?”

His voice is but a whisper.

 “If I left-” you lift your chin, flashing him a small smile- “I’d have to buy my own flannels.”

Silence.

…

He reaches out, tugs on your flannel sleeve.

“Can’t have that.”

…

“Go to sleep.”

A weary smile dusts your lips.

Yes, sir.

…

Scrambling up to the head of the bed, you shove your legs beneath the blankets and flop over to face the wall. Burying deep beneath them, you squeeze your eyes shut.

Blankets lift-

Weight on the mattress-

Heavy sigh-

Blankets pull and drop.

…

Oh kriff, he’s right behind you… Guess that’s how sharing a bed works…

…

Oh kark it.

You blink at the wall.

…

Time to make things weird.

“Roll over!” you shout, flinging up out of the bed. Din jolts back- startled by your outburst.

“W-what-?” He pulls the blankets up to his neck.

“MOVE!”

You yank on his arm- forcing him to roll over.

You can’t help but giggle as he obliges.

See? You don’t have to spend all night worrying about accidently touching him if you’re already touching him.

Life hack.

Now that Din’s properly flopped over and facing you in the bed, you crawl back under the blankets. You tug on his exposed arm- snaking it across your middle. You wiggle backwards until your back is pressed, squashed against his chest.

…

…

“Din?”

…

…

“Yeah?”

…

…

…

“This okay?”

…

…

…

His hand creeps up your hip, splays across your stomach.

…

“Yeah.”

…

…

…

“Then loosen up.”

…

…

“I am loose.”

…

…

“Goodnight, Din.”

…

…

“Goodnight, Ka’r’ika.”

…………

………

……

…

…

Guns-for-days holy shit-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

taglist: (in the reblog)

a/n: Oooooh boy. With a chapter this long, there’s a LOT I could say! I am reaaaaallly nervous for this one hsjdhdhd. Feel free to ask me anything in the comments so I can address specific topics! For now, I’ll just say things such as Din’s reaction to Boba taking his helmet off, Fennec still be alive, etc. will be addressed next chapter. 

Chapter ten really came so easily yet so hard at the same time. I put a LOT of time and love into this fic... So, if you, too, find any sort of enjoyment from it, I’d love to hear about it! I have made so many kind friends through this story. I love hearing from you!

And heh, things be heating up in this chapter, hm??? 👀 Any thoughts/theories??

Anyway... I’m sure I’ll think of things later I’ll wish I’d said... but for now... I hope you enjoyed!!!

[concussed-to-pieces]

Of Gorgons And Gardens

Fandom(s) : The Mandalorian and Prospect [2018]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader/Ezra

Rating: Holy shit uh. Explicit.

AN: That's right. I've done it. It's time for the sex pollen. This is a standalone that's not involved with either of my previous tales related to these fine boys, so we have a Death Watch-raised Mando that takes the Creed incredibly seriously and an Ezra that's well armed. Also I apologize for the constant viewpoint switches. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @hardcorewwetrash @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @oloreaa @theocatkov @jackierey09 @zombiexbody @crookedmoonsaultpunk @pedrosbigdorkenergy @absurdthirst @culturalrebel

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For obligatory dubious consent due to sex pollen, as well as threesome activities, breeding kink and gratuitous bodily fluids. Stay safe!]

The quarry was named Ezra. Not that their name mattered, the chain code was freshly generated. The strangest part was that there had been no image attached to the puck. 

Din had tipped his helmet to the side, narrowing his eyes and tapping the bounty puck curiously. "Somethin' wrong with this?"

Karga shook his head. "No, he's just too slick for us to have any holorecords on him. Somebody from Bakhroma wants him alive."

Undocumented quarry was exceptionally rare, and not usually something that one requested a Mandalorian for. It indicated green prey, a first-time offender. "Bakhroma, huh? Pretty far out." He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a reason why Karga had offered him this one specifically.

"Guy apparently walked off with a majority of someone's aurelac pull. Typical floater squabble, but one of them ponied up the mining points for credits and asked for a certified, card-carryin' Mando." Karga had leaned back in the booth. "How's the kid?"

Din had just grunted noncommittally in reply, gloved fingers scooping the puck off the table. "I have to get back to the Crest."

…

"The target has been on Bakhroma relatively recently. Not sure if he was in the Green or not, but either way he'll probably be a walking biohazard." Mando muttered, turning his head towards you. "So you're staying put."

"Until something happens to you and I have to pull you out of the fire again." You retorted with a smirk. 

"Hey, that was one time." You knew he was narrowing his eyes, though you weren't quite sure how you knew. Something about the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right clued you in.

"You were full of nexu quills."

"One. Time." The Mandalorian growled. "I even said thank you."

"You sure did," You replied, laughing. "Right before you passed out!"

He palmed over the side of your head roughly. "Brat." His grumble was fond, softening the edge of the insult. "Promise me you'll stay on the Crest, Senaar, otherwise I'll ask Omera to take you and the kid for an extended sleepover."

"Fine, I promise." You relented, huffing in annoyance.

He tinkered with his charts for a moment, then tilted his head again. "Where did you go earlier? I got done with Karga hours ago. Couldn't find you."

You stiffened, abruptly absorbed in checking the fuel levels. "Oh you know. Around." You said breezily. 

"Well in the future, when you feel like going around, at least let me know so I don't think you've been abducted." Mando grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. 

"Aw, you're cute when you care!" You cooed, making him scoff and return to his control panel. 

…

In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he was more pissed off about. The fact that this Ezra character had led him on a wild fucking chase over half of a suspiciously verdant moon, or the fact that his brain had apparently decided to shift into overdrive regarding you. He couldn't get you off…

Get you off his mind, that is. Stars, he was so confused. 

He felt like he had been walking in circles for hours, the only noise the steady beep of the tracker. He was too hot. Thirsty. His armor was chafing like it never had before; it was less like an extension of his body and more like a too-tight skin he needed to shed. Din finally bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 

"You look like shit," drawled an unfamiliar voice while a set of knuckles rapped on the back of his helmet. Djarin jerked upright and immediately staggered, fumbling to grip a tree trunk for support. His vision swam uncertainly, and he blinked several times in an effort to clear it. 

The man in front of him was clad in a utilitarian suit that bore an unfamiliar logo, maybe a mining corporation. No duraplast or durasteel visible, no unnecessary frills, old-fashioned rubber gaskets to seal where glove met sleeve. Din's gaze traveled upwards, past the man's chest to his large domed helmet. He kept his motions deliberate. He had been caught off-guard by this man, but he wouldn't--

What?!

"I'll assume you're encroaching upon my solitude to haul my undesirable personage back into civilized spaces?" The man inquired after Din had taken several long seconds to try and understand what he was seeing. "For monetary compensation, if I had to hazard a guess. There are few lures that tempt a man so far out into the uncharted."

Why does he have my face? Sure, the scars were different. Different facial hair, different hairstyle, and a wild little tuft of blond sprang from amidst the dark locks at his hairline. But it was him. Same brown eyes, same nose, same mouth curving into an infuriatingly benign smirk. Djarin was struck with the sudden urge to punch him, his belly writhing.

"I take it the dust has you firm in its grip. A real pity, that. I'd love to sympathize, but regrettably I am at an advanced state of the same condition." The quarry gestured at his right arm, where a bloodstain blooming on the fabric of his suit indicated a loss of the integrity of said suit. "I'm Ezra, though I'm certain you're already well aware. And you?"

"Irrelevant." Din grated out, clumsy fingers fumbling to get his binders off his belt. 

"A man of action, excellent! I shall acquiesce, but only because being removed from this Centaurian mass is infinitely better than being confined to it." Ezra replied with a sage nod, extending his wrists. "Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?" 

"Be quiet." The Mandalorian grunted, his mind still reeling. How does he have my face? Then, a new, far more troubling thought occurred to him.

If he turned Ezra in, people would inadvertently know what he looked like. They wouldn't know, but they would know. What would that mean for him? For his dedication to the Creed? Did things like that count against him? Had something like this ever happened before?

"Tell me you, at the bare minimum, have functional transport?" Ezra asked after Din had relieved him of his blaster, sounding hopeful. It was so strange hearing his own voice with such an odd, imprecise cadence to it. The Mandalorian had worked for years to improve his Basic so that anyone and everyone would be able to understand him through the coarse modulator, though he still ended up sounding hitchy or curt most of the time. 

"How else would I have gotten here?" Din snapped, gesturing the other man forward with the encouragement of his own weapon.

At least now he knew how to get back to the Crest, thank the Maker for his helmet and the tracking protocols he had. Now, observing his previous path of forward motion, he realized with a jolt how much it wound back and forth. He had been walking in circles.

Since when did he lose his sense of direction? Even in unknown territory, he usually had a damn good idea of which end was up. That concerned him.

And on top of everything else, Ezra wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Be quiet." Din muttered for what seemed like the thousandth time. How long had they been walking? Probably his own fault. With how much his head was spinning, he didn't dare deviate from the winding trail he had left. Even if a straight path would have been miles quicker.

Ezra continued to drone, "a toilsome marathon of carnage, I assure-"

"I said, be fucking quiet." 

The target huffed out a breath, but obliged Djarin's terse demand for the moment. Din's head was pounding, his already short fuse shrinking with every word out of the talkative man's mouth. Was this the Maker's hysterically ironic way of compensating for how little a solitary Mandalorian would speak? Making a doppelganger that was ceaselessly chatty?

Din talked a lot more these days, between you and the kid. Maker, you. His head swam again and a low, guilty heat throbbed in his belly. You talking to him, the way your mouth moved around your words-

No. No, stop, he told himself sternly, two fingers sliding idly between the gasket and gorget at his throat just so he could breathe a little easier. This planet's air felt thick, like breathing through tar. 

"I would not indulge that craving, were I you." Ezra spoke up, the man obviously watching him claw at his neck. "The less exposure you have, the better." 

Din wanted to snap at him because honestly how many times do I have to say shut the fuck up-

But then he stopped. Since when did he even do things like breach the seal of his own fucking helmet on an unfamiliar planet?! He flinched, tearing his hand away and hating the low, wry chuckle that issued from the quarry. The other man mused, "It's already too late for me, you know. I imagine I'll have an hour, perhaps two."

"What the hell are you talking about now."

"The dust, my armored associate. It permeates. Sludges the mental processes." Ezra shrugged with only one shoulder. "Among other things."

"How do you know so much about it?" Din gritted his teeth against the buzzing pain in his stomach. "Seems pretty stupid of you to hide out here." Especially if you know the flora is deadly.

"There is naught to do on a freighter slingback aside from read." Ezra's eyes narrowed. "And I could hardly pick and choose which moon my pod decided to give out on, you monosyllabic knuckle-dragger."

"Watch your mouth before I break it." Din snarled.

"Lo and behold, he comprehends! I assumed all you knew how to say was a stagnant variation on the theme of be fucking quiet." Ezra retorted with enraging cheer. 

Din's gloves creaked with the tension of his fists and he barely kept from slamming them into his temples. They were almost to the Crest. Almost. Once they got there, he would throw this mouthy nerf herder into the carbonite and…

And what? And turn him over? And inadvertently compromise his whole identity, possibly destroy decades of loyally obeying the Creed? 

All the deprivation, the loneliness, the weakness of his own heart...

"Be fucking quiet." The Mandalorian muttered, knowing full well that the other man hadn't said anything. Be fucking quiet. Be fucking quiet quiet quiet just fucking be quiet-- 

Din ground the heels of his palms against the curve of his helmet at his forehead, praying for some kind of relief.

Carbonite, he reminded himself.

…

Ezra grudgingly held his tongue, which even he had to admit was a rarity. Unlike the other floaters that had approached him before and met their swift demise, this particular bounty hunter was heavily kitted. The gleaming plate he sported didn't seem to hinder his motion in the slightest. 

Interesting.

Ezra knew when he had been outplayed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't banking on the other man having a functional ship even before he decided to go peacefully. 

The hunter (mentally dubbed Steerforth, he rudely had not introduced himself) obviously had no idea about the pollen, for all his outward preparedness. Clearly Serpentia was not as well known as Ezra had wished. 

Regrettable. 

He could hope that the bounty hunter hadn't been exposed, he mused. After all, the man was wearing that positively arresting helmet, and his suit seemed of a sturdy (if unfamiliar) weave. Here was an individual that Ezra would have to tread carefully around, if he wished to escape with his life. 

His faith waned a bit as he recalled watching the man 'track' him, winding back and forth through the trees like a drunken mule until Ezra had taken pity on him and turned himself in. 

The hunter was terse in his speech, likely weary from the chase. Ezra could sympathize, he was weary from running. It had almost been a relief when that last hunter had attacked him and forced him to crash the pod on this moon. Though his relief had quickly turned to dismay when Ezra had done a full turn outside his pod and realized just what was making all the pollen in the air.

Serpentia, Serpent's Tongue. He had never encountered the plant in the proverbial flesh, but once upon a time he had been accidentally doused with the extract when a holding tank had burst while he was on a job site.

His skin crawled as he remembered the torment that followed during his solitary confinement. He had been nigh-certain he would not recover, clawing free of the haze that had gripped him with the barest vestiges of his mental faculties. 

This moon's Serpentia population seemed infinitely kinder than the concentrate he had encountered, if only for its soft, creeping approach. It lapped at the base of his brain, dulled the edge of his panic until he was nearly comfortable with the ache that licked hot in his groin. 

But thank Kevva for this bounty hunter lumbering through the brush! With a little luck, Ezra would be able to persuade him to accept a few pearls of aurelac in lieu of dragging him back to face that greatly-exaggerated justice.

...

According to the limited information from the Crest's scans, the air on this moon was perfectly safe to breathe. 

And if what Mando had said was right, he probably would need the ship to himself for a little while to decontaminate. So you had posted up beside the ramp once he had departed, occasionally wiping the sweat off your brow. The atmosphere was humid and you watched as breezes too delicate for you to even feel nudged the thick pollen in the air this way and that. 

The moon was liberally coated with lush vegetation; just finding a place to safely land the Razor Crest had been a Herculean effort. You wondered vaguely if there was a lake or spring nearby that you would be able to cool off in. The ship's fresher was functional, of course, but its water had been sitting in the holding tank for a few cycles now and it smelled rusty. 

The pollen covered everything, orange-red substance sticking to your already-damp skin. You grimaced, wondering if maybe you should have put on your suit. But no, the atmosphere was safe. The scans had said so, and you already spent so much of your time in your thick suit…

The sunshine felt wonderful after all the hyperspace travel, like a warm embrace from a friend. You caught yourself wondering what Mando's hug might feel like. Probably uncomfortable, what with all the beskar. You scoffed at your thoughts. You really needed to stop thinking about him like that, he was technically your boss even if he called you his partner. So what if he had passed out on top of you? That had been an infection thing.

It wasn't as if he had stroked your cheek before he dropped, his voice breaking when he called you Senaar... 

So what if you had solicited not one, but two Mandalorians during your last stop on Nevarro? 

It wasn't as if he noticed anything that you did, aside from when it had inconvenienced him. It wasn't as if you couldn't handle your little infatuation with him, even if it did result in you seeking out Mandos that would give you attention.

You propped your chin up on your hand, your eyes half-focusing on the dust floating in the air. It was nice to just relax for once, though there was a little guilty sensation in your stomach. Because Mando was out there working, while you...were lounging around, soaking up the sunlight.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, but you finally got up with a groan and a stretch that felt heavenly. You would investigate the surrounding area, you decided, maybe you could rustle up something fresh. If you couldn't be active on the hunt for the quarry, you could at least restock the larders.

After what only felt like a few steps, you quickly stumbled across thick vines that bore an unfamiliar, violet-hued fruit. The fruit was the size of your fist, and the skin had slight give to it. Light-colored flowers dotted the vine here and there, their tiny stamens crested with heavy crowns of thick pollen. Clearly you had located one of the many sources of the dust that choked the air. 

You picked one of the fruits and propped it up on a flat rock, using your trusty field knife to slice it open. It had orange pulp inside it, and a small hollow in the middle filled with pinkish fluid. The whole fruit reminded you of a sunset. Dimly, you thought that you probably shouldn't be touching this fruit with your bare skin, on the off chance that it might be caustic or toxic. But it looked delicious. 

Surely just a little taste wouldn't hurt?

The pinkish fluid was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and sticky. It dribbled down your chin when you tipped the fruit to slurp it up. You laughed at yourself, tugging your tunic to scrub at your face. 

Mando will love these.

You weren't sure where the thought came from, but obviously it was true. The idea of Mando being alone, slipping off his helmet to eat...the juice from the fruit glistening on his mouth…

Your breathing had quickened. You carefully harvested more of the round fruit, tucking the ripe produce into the makeshift cradle of your tunic. Once you decided you had enough, you turned on your heel and went to make your way back to the Crest. 

...

No.

No no no no no-

Din stared at the partially-ajar ramp on the Crest and he wanted to yell. 

"Oh dear." Ezra murmured faintly. "What a predicament." He had been getting quieter and quieter the closer they drew to the ship, so hearing him talk again sent a jolt down Din's spine. "You left your egress open? How careless of you."

"I didn't." Din snarled, wrapping his fingers around the binders on Ezra's wrists. You. The throbbing in his stomach lurched.

Ezra's eyes widened and he abruptly planted his feet. Din hadn't realized just how off-kilter he was, normally something like a shift in weight wouldn't be enough to make him stagger. But he almost toppled, barely getting his balance back in time. "Is there someone else on that ship?" Ezra asked sharply. 

"Of course." Din didn't even think to lie. "Partner."

"Would they have wandered? Exposed themselves?" The prospector-thief-quarry continued to quiz him and Din resented it just a little. 

"Be quiet," He grunted, tapping at his gauntlet to open the ramp, "and get in the fucking hold."

Ezra abruptly drew himself up to his full height. "I do not believe you actually want me to do that." He intoned with difficulty, his teeth gritted. "Putting myself, yourself and the potential of one more infected person into an enclosed space is a very…" His words faltered. "Oh."

Din whirled, visor traveling up the ramp into the dim hold. And just barely visible at the edge of the ramp, a small pile of what looked like fruit--was that your leg?! He lunged forward, his blaster ready. 

"I would not advise you to approach them!" Ezra barked.

"Fuck you!" Din snapped, striding up the ramp to kneel alongside your body. He crushed one of the fruits beneath his knee, lurid pink juice erupting to soak into his suit. The color was high in your cheeks, your body blotchy with flush. Pollen encrusted your neck and shoulders, drifted through your hair; something pink and shiny coated your lips like a strange gloss.

Din caught himself leaning in and jerked back at the urgency in Ezra's voice when the prospector called, "Do they breathe, man?"

"Be quiet!" Djarin roared. Why hadn't he checked that first? What was wrong with him? He shoved his vambrace against your mouth, his chest clenching in relief when your breath fogged the metal. Stars. 

"I'm afraid this complicates things quite significantly." Ezra said loudly, fidgeting at the base of the ramp. "I was unaware you had a partner of the...other biological persuasion. Had it just been you and I, two masculine-presenting bipeds, things would have been miles simpler."

"What the hell are you saying now?" Din was getting tired of this shit, tired of listening to the other man talk. 

"This plant is...shall we say, heteronormative." Ezra drawled, waving his bound hands in the air to illustrate the cloying pollen. Din cocked his head in confusion. "You know, masculine and feminine? Male and female? Different. Hetero."

Djarin scoffed derisively. "My people don't care about that shit." 

"A noble practice to be certain, very forward-thinking."

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian replied. 

Ezra soldiered on, "Unfortunately, the plant that infests this planet does indeed differentiate. Fruit for the female, pollen for the male." He added hurriedly, "in the biological sense, of course! I will not make any assumptions about your partner. The fruit is a...a catalyst. Are you familiar with the old-Earth religious writings, the ones that mention the Garden? Or perhaps the Greek pantheon may have been more your style?" When Djarin shook his head, Ezra sighed. "The genus name in Basic is slippin' my mind. But this particular iteration is known as Serpent's Tongue, Serpentia. It is Medusine in nature and it inspires feelings of…" Ezra paused, licking his lips nervously. "Heat."  

"Heat." Din repeated blankly, knowing that he must be missing something. 

Ezra ducked his head, breaking eye contact. "As in, being in heat." The man clarified after a moment. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I'm-"

"Excuse me?" Din snarled, running his fingers through the juices that coated his knee. It was thick, sticky like syrup, why was it warm--He bolted to his feet and stalked back down the ramp. Ezra took a step back, and then another, the quarry obviously wary of him. Good. The satisfied feeling took some of the edge off his frustrated panic. "So what the hell is wrong with my partner?" Din grated out.

"Er, to couch it in layman's terms…" Ezra hesitated, clearing his throat. "They are aroused."

Aroused. Aroused. Aroused. "Sexually?" Din hated the way the word came out, all breathy like he was a youngling that had just learned about the wonders of copulation. 

Ezra nodded, grimacing. "From the sound of your tone, I would hazard a guess that the two of you have not been intimate."

"Why would we have been?" Din retorted bluntly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, seeming as if he was avoiding looking at you. Good. Mine. Din had no idea where the hell that thought came from. "Oh of course, I was foolish to assume so blatantly." The prospector muttered. "That does complicate your own matters further, however. Were you previously sexually intertwined, this would have been much more simple." He suddenly doubled over at the waist, a loud grunt forced from his mouth and a low exclamation of, "fuck, fuck-"

The curse sent a hot flicker down Din's spine and it took him a second to realize that you had made a noise in reply. You sounded dazed, scared. He whirled on the ramp and knelt again, taking your hand. "Senaar, you coming around?" Your eyes looked...wrong, blinking open slowly; your pupils were blown like you'd been spiced. 

You stared up at him for several long seconds before your mouth opened. "Wanted to make lunch." You managed to say. "I don't feel good." 

"Well, you don't look so great either." Din said gruffly. 

"Bastard." You groaned at him, trying to sit up. "Maker, I feel so hot, I...oh! Oh no, you smushed one." You appeared to have noticed the remains of the sticky fruit currently seeping into his knee. "I wanted you to try it. Tastes...tastes...it's so sweet Mando, s'like candy." You saying his name (even if it wasn't his actual name, shit) was like a lightning bolt to his groin. You dragged your hand over his knee, gathering up the remnants of the fruit and then sliding your fingers into your mouth. 

You brought him food. His lungs felt too full and not full enough. Stars, the idea of you feeding him that, smearing it all over his mouth with those pretty little fingers-

No, the helmet. The helmet. He couldn't take off the helmet. The Creed.

He jerked his head up, looking to Ezra. The other man was still doubled over, holding his midsection as best as he could with his hands bound. 

A dark, uncharacteristically evil thought wound its way into Din's mind, sweet and smokey like a good ne'tra gal. "Get in the ship." He grunted. Ezra glanced up and Din was a little startled by the level of emotion he displayed. He wasn't used to seeing expressions play out on his own face. The other man seemed wildly uncomfortable and Din found that grounding, for whatever reason. 

"I do not dare to." Ezra panted finally. "Just being this close is...immensely troubling. I am not the master of my own body at this moment, Steerforth."

"Is this the target?" You asked softly. Din nodded and he could almost feel your eyes raking over the other man. "What happened? He's hurt."

Shit, he had nearly forgotten. Ezra was still bleeding from his arm. The quarry had obviously forgotten as well, clearly dealing with a much more pressing matter. 

You beckoned to the other man and Din had to rein in the knee-jerk reaction to grab his blaster as Ezra reluctantly approached. He had never been territorial about you before, what the hell was the matter with him? 

Ezra halted a good five feet away from you, keeping his head down. "I am Ezra. I apologize in advance for my untoward behavior." He muttered, his voice gone so low and gravelly he actually did sound like Din. The Mandalorian's stomach pitched uncertainly. "I am not myself at this point in time."

"What happened to your arm?" Your tone was warm, concerned. Din's fists clenched. "Did Mando do that?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Your compatriot has been nothing if not a complete gentleman." Ezra replied wryly. "I sustained this injury during a previous floater's quarrel."

…

You hummed and you saw Mando stiffen up out of the corner of your eye. What was wrong with him? One second he had been leaning over you, all worry and hand holding. The next, he was barking at the quarry. 

And the quarry was hurt. Ezra, Ezra, his slow drawl making your head swim and your chest tingle. Never mind Mando, what was wrong with you? You felt so strange, like you were hyper-fixated. 

Maker, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that fruit. "I'm sorry." You apologized to Mando, your lower lip beginning to quiver. "I just wanted to give-"

"Be quiet." He ordered, his voice startlingly gentle. A gloved thumb pressed to your lower lip and you stared up at him, opening your mouth automatically even though you knew he was just wiping the juice away. You were startled when he slid his thumb into your mouth, but you obligingly cleaned the juice from the leather with your tongue. Shouldn't this be strange? But Mando just did it, like it was normal. Maybe it was normal. 

Your mind flew back to your sultry encounter on Nevarro, how you had occupied yourself while Mando wrapped up his business with the Guild, and warmth lanced through your stomach as you recalled greedy gloved hands grasping and caressing your bare skin-

"Steerforth, if you are to carry on in that heated demonstration I must plead for the carbonite treatment that you were so hellbent on throwing myself into earlier." Ezra sounded like he was in pain. "I have only endured this once before and it was a torment that threatened my already-tenuous sanity. Have fucking mercy man, I implore-"

"Be quiet." Mando snapped, "we have to treat your arm, right?"

"Fuck." Ezra swore again, the sound writhing through your belly. "Hurry then."

"Get in the ship. I'll turn on the filters."

"Do not leave me alone with them, I implore you!" Ezra cried, that domed helmet finally tilting enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. "I am not the master of my own body, Steerforth." 

His eyes were dark, impossibly dark, and frantic as he argued with Mando. His skin seemed tanned or olive through the sun-struck dome of his suit's helmet. Short brown hair was plastered flat to his forehead with sweat, and the lower half of his face was coated in a somewhat unkempt mess of facial scruff. Too long to be five o'clock shadow, but too bedraggled to be dubbed anything else.

Roguish, you decided, wanting to laugh at yourself. He looks roguish. What a ridiculous thought to have! Not obviously dangerous like Mando, but still dangerous. Was that your heartbeat throbbing in your ears? You sighed softly, taking a step towards the other man without meaning to. 

Mando's hand was suddenly on your arm. "Hold it. Treatment. We have to treat his wound." He said gruffly. 

You nodded. Of course. Who knew what he had been exposed to through the breach in his suit? "I was going to help him walk?"

Mando shook his head. "You get the kit. You've got no gear on. He's contaminated." He reasoned. "Get me the kit and then seal yourself into the cockpit so we can filter the hold." You nodded again and his hand found your cheek, gloved fingers grazing your neck before he jerked back. "S...Sorry." he apologized.

"It's okay." You whispered.

…

Ezra, helmet discarded and suit stripped to the waist, flinched away from Din's touch yet again. "Stop. This is a bad wound. It'll get infected if I do this wrong." Din snapped. He rarely encountered blaster wounds that didn't self-cauterize, even though that tended to come with its own set of problems.

"I do not mean to tear free." Ezra protested. "Blood flow has increased. I am…" He paused, biting his lower lip. "Sensitive. Surely you have a handheld? One of the burners? Just burn it shut man, Kevva, I cannot even endure the graze of your fingers." 

"If I give you a burner patch, it'll seal in the infection." Din reasoned, flushing the wound again. "Focus on something else."

"I cannot." Ezra said sharply. "There is only one matter my brain currently wishes to focus on, and it is not the dire straits of my wounded arm." 

"Them?" Din asked, keeping his voice low. 

Ezra shot him a guilty look from beneath his sweat-matted fringe of brown hair, finally nodding. "It is ludicrous, but I feel as though I can taste them." He confessed. "Gods, I wish I had never landed on this accursed moon. I wish I had never encountered the Serpentia."

"What will happen?" Din did his best to maintain his vocal level as he bandaged the other man's wound.

"Arousal. Sheer, unadulterated arousal. You ache, like the worst fever you've ever had. I've heard it is even more excruciatin' for those of the other human biological persuasion, due to their genitals being internal. Though it is Medusine in nature, so it has a...failsafe, of sorts. You are seized with the primal instinct to mate, conquer, claim. It does not stop until you have buried your...until you have sheathed yourself in an orifice." Ezra was gasping for air. Obviously just talking about it was enough to cause him distress, either that or Djarin was being rougher than he thought. "Steerforth please, I-"

"This will cause them pain?" Din asked slowly. 

Ezra nodded jerkily. "I have been told it's like a sickly, stabbing heat. Fingers are not enough to…er, extinguish the flames." His cheeks flushed. "The tongue soothes, but not overlong. Internals require certain length, and...rigidity." Din didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the beskar that covered his upper thighs. "When last I encountered this damned flora, I suffered the effects alone and I felt as if I would go mad."

Tongue. Fingers. Rigidity. Din's mind reeled. "Specifics." He gritted out, his body awash with heat in his armor when Ezra made a pitiful noise.

"Kevva, have mercy on me Steerforth."

"I said. Specifics." Din fisted a glove in the other man's hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up. Ezra moved, albeit reluctantly, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing when he swallowed. "Specifics." Din repeated himself, a little softer this time.

Ezra shuddered all over. "They will seek you out. To be fucked." He said, cringing a bit as if he disliked using the word. "You must open them up with your tongue first, dissolve the Medusine barrier with saliva. That's the failsafe, you see, an individual of that biological persuasion who is suffering cannot be penetrated without tender effort. Ease into it and perhaps they will not loathe you when this madness has run its course-"

"I can't." Din interrupted. 

"What?" Ezra gawked at him. 

"I can't. T-Tongue. Not allowed. Forbidden." Din felt like he was drunk. "Helmet."

The other man's brow furrowed. "You can, I presume, take off other portions of your plate?"

Din shook his head, wishing that he could explain it better. "Technically yes, but it's frowned upon. Exceptions happen. And under no circumstances can I take the helmet off." 

"How in the Fringe have you ever-"

"I...inspire feelings in people." That was probably the most delicate way he could have said I cater exclusively to bipeds with a predator/prey fetish. Din grimaced. "I'm large and imposing. Usually that's...enough. No need for warm up." He said awkwardly. "Armor stays on."

"What a bewildering existence!" Ezra tilted his head in disbelief. "So you have never removed…?"

Din shook his head. "Not in the presence of others. The Creed forbids it."

"Your dedication is admirable, but unfortunately it leaves your partner twisting in the wind." The quarry pointed out. "I would offer my services, but I am an unknown and-"

"Yes." Din gritted out, that dark thought slithering back through his mind. 

"Yes?"

"Your services." Din took a deep breath. He didn't bargain with quarry, but this man had his face. He couldn't turn him in without jeopardizing everything he had sworn his life to. "In exchange, when this is...when they no longer require your services, I'll let you go."

Ezra's eyebrows bunched together. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Steerforth."

"I don't want them to be in pain." Din's voice grated in his throat and he watched Ezra's eyes widen in comprehension. "I don't want them to hurt."

"You...this is not just the Serpentia. You have a prior attachment to them."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't have." Djarin muttered dismissively. "Because of the Creed, I...I can't. But you can."

"You can't give them your mouth, certainly, but there are-"

"If it's what makes it possible, you have to do it!" Din interjected sharply. "I don't want them to hurt."

"I need you to comprehend what you're askin' of me!" Ezra shot back, his bound fists clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "They don't know me from Job, and you're all but demanding I violate their trust-"

"I don't want them to hurt!" Din roared, startling himself with his own furious reaction. Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by your staggering descent on the ladder. You looked unwell. Ezra skittered back a few steps, falling on his ass with a muffled swear. 

"Mando?" Your voice wavered and you swayed at the ladder. Din lurched forward, tucking you into his arms as you sniffled, "I don't feel so good. I think I'm sick." You were radiating heat that he could feel even through his suit. Your tunic was soaked with sweat.

"Osi'kyr." Din cursed under his breath after he swapped to his infrared and saw just how brilliant your signature was. "Listen to me, alright Senaar?" He murmured, simultaneously loving and hating the way you nodded in a docile manner. "We know what can fix this. But it's not…" he paused, searching for the right term. 

"Appropriate." Ezra supplied loudly. 

"I feel awful." Your whimper made Din's stomach ache. His cock rubbed against the confines of his compression leggings. 

Ignore it.

"I know you do." Din pressed his palm to your forehead. "Listen to me. We can fix this. You trust me, right?" Your nod was immediate and Din barely stifled his groan. "Ezra knows what's wrong. Ezra can help."

"He can help?" You echoed blearily, looking past Din. "Okay. He said something about the fruit before, right? I shouldn't have eaten it. M'sorry. Was it poison?"

"Poison may have been simpler to endure." Ezra muttered. "It is an aphrodisiac. Do not blame yourself. The fruit is visually appealing for a reason, otherwise the plant would not be able to propagate."

…

Aphrodisiac. Your mouth was flooded with that sweet taste at the sound of Ezra's drawling voice, the groan that followed burrowing into your blood. 

You had never felt this way before. Your body ached and twisted, arousal pooling uncomfortably in your pelvis. Everything felt like it was trapped, your tunic sticking to your skin with sweat. Aphrodisiac. 

"Please pay attention." Ezra sighed. "I understand this is incredibly distracting, but I have a limited window of coherence." He was trembling slightly, still avoiding your eyes. "Your partner has requested I aid you where he cannot. I will not harm you." He said with gravity. "This is a situation which bodes exceptionally poorly and I am...I am truly sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Oh, it's okay. Mando gets me into messes all the time." You brushed off his apology and Ezra choked out a bitter laugh. 

"I fear you may change your tune once the pain truly starts." He remarked.

"He says it'll hurt." Mando murmured. "Like stabbing."

You knew your eyes widened with fear because Mando was quick to envelope you in his arms again. He had never been this touchy before. It was...strangely nice. The coolness of his armor felt wonderful on your skin and you moaned in relief. Mando went stiff at your noise, his gloved fingers clutching the nape of your neck. Up until this point, you had just felt some minor throbbing. Distracting, but negligible.

This was different.

...

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fists curled into his suit, knees buckling as a low, wavering cry left your lips. Din jerked at the sound. He had never heard you make that kind of noise before, not even when you had been shot--

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. Was he excited or terrified? "Easy, you're okay, you're okay," he soothed, clumsily brushing the hair back from your face. Who was he even trying to convince?! 

"Make your choice expediently, Steerforth. Am I to be thrown in carbonite or put to work?" Ezra queried through gritted teeth. 

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you." Din said to you, ignoring the other man for the moment. "I won't let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me for right now, alright? We can fix this."

Your grip on him tightened even further. "I don't like how this feels." You whispered. 

Din closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off his own self-loathing, pressing your cheek against his breastplate. "I know, Senaar. I'll be right here with you. I just...can't give you what you'll need." He stuttered, offering on a desperate whim, "I-I can hold you, if you want." You nodded frantically into his armor. 

"If you have a...a blanket. A sheet. Something for the floor, we are going to make a mess and I am uncertain if we will be able to protect your partner's modesty." Ezra muttered, his bound hands resting surreptitiously over his groin. "They may be more enthusiastic than one would anticipate."

Din patted your elbow, trying to gentle his voice. "Go get your pillow." 

"O-Okay." You gulped. 

Din tore into one of his many lockers once you released him, the armored man frantically digging around for his extra bedding. Ezra staggered to his feet, moving in close to Din. So that you wouldn't hear him speak, no doubt. 

"There is still time for you to freeze me, Steerforth. I am not a man without morality, tattered though it may be." He murmured, and Din noticed that his weary brown eyes were surrounded by the same deep lines and cracks that Djarin's own face sported. The Mandalorian hadn't ever paid much mind to just how many expressions he still made beneath the helmet, probably because he knew no one would see them.

Din grabbed the other man's shoulder, searching those eyes. Ezra stared at his impenetrable visor, probably confused by his silence. "I need your help." Din rasped seriously. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, but he could live with the uneasy truce if it would…if it meant that he could…

Stars, this was all so damn wrong. 

Ezra finally nodded. "I will do my best to assist with the...emotional aftermath. This is not your fault, or theirs. This is merely an unfortunate side effect of a hazardous occupation."

"Thank you."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, but other than that he gave no indication of his surprise. Din elbowed him to the side, unfolding the thick blanket and spreading it out carefully on the floor of the hold.

…

This was certainly an odd predicament. 

Ezra could not say he had ever been in such a charged scenario, despite his checkered history. His jaw worked thoughtfully as he watched the armored man devote an obscene amount of care to smoothing the wrinkles out of his blanket. 

Arousal swirled around him like the thick pollen outside, but it was tempered by the terrible memory of that singular past experience where he had rubbed himself bloody on the inside of his suit. He knew he was worse off than Steerforth. No, what had you called him? Mando. 

Curious. 

A Creed that prevented the devout from showing the world their face.

Curious. And familiar, somehow. Ezra spooled his mind back, trying to recall why it was familiar. He couldn't focus however, his own breathing becoming too distracting. 

Mando hadn't gotten nearly as much of the pollen as him. The other man seemed unbearably, impossibly calm in the light of what was about to occur. Maybe it was an illusion afforded by that unreadable helm, or brought about by his lack of prior experience.

Ezra was wildly jealous all the same. "What is their name?" He asked softly. 

Mando fixed him with a look and Kevva, that helmet was indeed imposing. "I call them Senaar. It...it means bird." He sounded reluctant, like he didn't even want to give up that much. "Names are sacred in the Creed. I couldn't give them mine so they didn't give me theirs, but I had to call them something."

"No names in the Creed, either?" Ezra asked incredulously. 

The armored man shook his head. "To outsiders we are all Mando. To us, we are Mando'ade. This is the Way."

"A veritable legion of nameless, featureless warriors." Ezra muttered, mainly to himself. He rattled his restraints after a moment. "Am I to remain bound during this frotfest, Steerforth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to give you free range. Be grateful I didn't secure them behind your back instead." Mando snarked.

"I will not harm your little bird." Ezra protested.

"I know." Mando leaned in slightly, broad shoulders made even more intimidating by the blue-steel pauldrons that graced them. "I would kill you before you got the chance."

Oh, such confidence! Ezra wished he was in his right mind, he would obliterate this smug cretin--

His breath caught in his throat as you returned from your excursion. Gods, he had nearly forgotten what he was being called to do. He warred with the obscene urge that dragged his gaze to the crux of your thighs. "A divine sight." He murmured, not lying for once. This entire day had been remarkably truthful. 

You actually gave him a ribald wink, and that eased his conscience slightly. Perhaps you were not the unsullied, blushing virgin he had feared you might be. Obviously you had used the time you took to grab your pillow wisely, maybe even given yourself a bit of a pep talk. 

"Have you done this before?" Ezra asked, half-joking. He heard Mando audibly gulp in that damn bucket when you nodded, a pained smile curving your lips. "Not under the effects of such altering substances, I pray?" 

"Nah, nothing like that." You replied, shaking your head. "It was back on Nevarro, I-"

"Nevarro?" Mando hissed. "You disappeared on me for hours. That's what you were up to?!"

You shrugged weakly. "It doesn't really matter but...there were two Mandalorians, and I wanted, um, something that seemed familiar, I guess." You admitted, your tone remarkably cool for the subject matter. 

Ezra hid his grin. He was hardly immune to the allure of saucy gossip, and there was nothing quite like gossip that had no particular bearing on him. "Two?!" The armored man's voice squeaked even through the thick modulation and Ezra burst out laughing, the binders knocking his jaw when he tried to stifle his mirth. 

"I meant more whether you had engaged in copulation in general, but I suppose that would have been a pertinent question as well." He mused once he got himself under control, the low buzz in his stomach blossoming into an excited thrum. "How fortunate that you would be so generous when it comes to your partners, little bird."

"What do you mean, familiar?" Mando carried on over him, obviously agitated by the fresh knowledge that his partner may or may not have some...tendencies. Ezra almost wanted to laugh again; you were nothing if not painfully transparent. Seeking out others like the armored man to have their way with you? Clearly you harbored some sort of affection, kept secret and safe by the walls that humans build around themselves.

But Serpentia had a funny way of sliding that dastardly pink slick through all defenses, leaving the body raw and exposed.

"I mean familiar." You replied, your pillow like a shield between yourself and Mando. Ezra settled back to watch the show, well aware that his smirk was probably insufferable. "I have needs, you know." You continued primly. 

Mando's fists clenched on his thighs before he pointedly flattened them back out, fingers dragging over the plates. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I'm sorry." He mumbled, patting his leg. 

You wavered again and nearly fell. The armored man caught you, settling you down with a cautious tenderness that fired a thrower shot of arousal directly into Ezra's gut. He had always been a weak fool for chivalry, though he was able to display precious little of it in his own life. Oh, this was the best kind of story. 

...

Your face burned with embarrassment; why had you told him about your rendezvous with two other members of his Creed? It was like the words just fell out of your mouth, like your brain itself was against you. 

You could still remember the way the larger one had pressed his forehead to your own and then encouraged you down his chest to his groin, the way his helmet had tipped back--

A new flood of warmth swept into your cunt and you bit down on your hand to stifle your noise at the pain that followed. Mando paused, then laid your pillow between his open legs. "Lay down on your back." He muttered, patting his leg again. "This way you can see me. I'll be right here."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize, please." Mando cut you off. "Once this is over, once everything is...over, I...listen, we'll operate as a sealed unit. This maneuver is scrubbed from the start. I never found the quarry. Nothing that we say or do here will ever be mentioned again. Understood?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He was giving you an out. Or himself, you were uncertain. You nodded slowly and his shoulders drooped a little, but whether he was relieved or disappointed…

Well, some secrets were meant to stay that way. 

Ezra nodded his own agreement. "It is best to have certain protocol already in place when engaging in uncharted waters." He muttered. "Decidedly militant, but I must surmise your Creed taught you that."

"This is the Way." Mando said firmly. 

"If we are operating under burner infantry orders, then I must voice my trepidation about this engagement," Ezra confessed to you. "I have endured this crisis once before and it was not a pleasant experience. I do not envy the pain I am certain you feel at this moment, but I also know that you are in a...compromised and sensitive position. I...if any advance is unwanted, I trust you will inform me. And if I do not respond, if I am too far gone, please have your associate rescind my invitation." He gestured at Mando with his bound hands. 

"Wh-What are you going to do to me?" You asked, your voice high in your ears even as you let Mando maneuver you down to the blanket.

"I am going to do for you what your companion cannot, little bird." Ezra's tongue dampened his lips nervously. "And only that, if I understand the situation correctly."

"What he…" you trailed off as a thought occurred to you. Ezra hummed quietly as if to confirm and the sound reverberated through your core, making you whine and squirm restlessly. "Oh, what, stars, you mean-"

"My mouth, little bird." He had a tiny section of blond hair on the right side of his head, the tuft residing rakishly just at his hairline. You hadn't noticed until now, but the whimsical little patch seemed to soften his stern features. "You will need the saliva, regrettably. I am certain that the idea of the mouth of a lowly aurelac harvester on you is a repulsive one, but it is the only way to get the proverbial ball rolling." 

"Wait, you have to eat me out?" You asked in confusion, trying to get back up. "Hang on, I should shower, I'll-" Agony raked down your spine and you spasmed, a breathy sound of pain forcing itself past your lips.

Ezra's incredulous chuckle soothed the sensation back down to a manageable level. "What an unexpected offer, little bird! I cannot recall the last time someone bathed specifically for me. You will wholly ensnare me if you continue such considerate behavior." 

…

Din's body felt like it was on fire in his armor. 

You had gone looking for people like him. 

You had gone looking for Mandos because you wanted familiarity. The idea of you sussing out more of his brothers or sisters because you had needs-

Din wasn't sure if he would survive this particular encounter. He was gripping his cuisses so tightly that the leather of his gloves burned against his fingertips. Mandalorians weren't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the Creed could make things...more difficult than they needed to be for a variety of species.

Ezra, despite his hands being bound, was remarkably capable. The man had coached you through the pain when you had tried to move, his voice obviously helping you somehow. Djarin wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful. Maybe both.

The fact that this was causing you to suffer had him loathing how stiff his cock was in his compression leggings, even though from what he had gathered he couldn't actually help that particular reaction. 

"I must beg your assistance in disrobing." Ezra was saying softly, tugging at the overly-knotted waistband of your loose pants. "Please, little bird."

"Right, yeah, of course." You mumbled and Djarin could hear the pain in your voice, could feel the twitchy little flinches as you tried to follow Ezra's directions. 

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian moved his hands up until they rested on your shoulders. You exhaled a breathy little moan, nuzzling your cheek against his glove in what he had to assume was thanks.

"Better." You gasped, seeming more sure as you struggled to undo the sash at your waist. 

"Well done, Steerforth." Ezra praised, causing something warm and wet to pour into Din's abdomen. The armored man's breathing stuttered, was this what Ezra had been feeling the entire time they had been walking? Stars, how had he even managed-

His cock lurched against the tight hold of his leggings, precome dampening his stomach. Without meaning to, Din's fingers tightened on your shoulders and he grunted quietly. 

Your eyes shot up, locking with his visor. He knew you couldn't actually see him, but at that moment he felt exposed. "You alright?" You asked quietly, your breath hiccuping when Ezra brushed the stubble of his jaw against your naked thigh. Din ached to do that himself, Maker he wished-

"I'm fine." He choked, like he wasn't roasting alive from the double-edged heat of artificial arousal and jealousy. His left hand slid down, resting at the hollow of your throat. It soothed his ego a little to see that your eyes were still on him, despite what the quarry was about to do. 

Ezra, he reminded himself. This man wasn't prey anymore, for all that he was keeping the binders on. Din at least needed that level of control. He needed the stability.

That recurrent devious thought surged forward again, dark and heady. Utilizing Ezra, he could indulge vicariously in the hazy desires he had fought for cycles. The wish to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you cried, like in the raunchy imagecasts he picked up on rare occasion. Putting his bare hands on you, stars-

Din Djarin was a man of extreme self-control. So far, he hadn't overstepped or shamed the Creed, unless you counted the time he was loaded out of his mind with bacteria-laden quills. He hadn't realized just how many of them were embedded in his back until his vision started getting blurry as he was standing over the nexu's dead body. Served him right for letting the feline get the drop on him before he put his backplate on.

You had been so worried when he returned. You were patched into his coms so you obviously heard the struggle he had dispatching the creature. Heard how ragged his breath got and how hard he had to actually fight. 

Din vaguely remembered flopping down on his belly with you hovering over him, pliers in one hand and bacta shot already buried in the meat of his shoulder. Stars, it was great to have a partner sometimes. If he had come back to just the kid like that, he'd probably be dead from an infection. You didn't even make him take off his suit, you just worked around it. 

You ended up removing thirty-seven quills of various lengths, most of them bearing nasty hooked barbs. The pain had hit different because of the infection, leaving Djarin trembling boneless and silent on the floor of the hold while you wriggled quills out of his back. He had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable, beskar be damned. 

"It's alright. I'm glad you made it back." You had said calmly. "I'm not letting you go alone next time, though."

"Thank you, Senaar…"

Din's face flushed when he recalled how badly his voice had cracked when saying the name he called you by, less speech and more a plaintive cry. The way his glove had slipped over the skin of your cheek, and how he had longed to remove that glove...

Maker, he sullied the Creed with his inability to reconcile over lack of touch. The hunger for skin-to-skin contact that reared its ugly head every time you were out of your heavy exosuit and durasteel served as a painful reminder, one much more poignant than the simple weight of his helm, that he was a Mandalorian.

But this doppelganger loophole was a gift to be thoroughly exploited and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity. 

Ezra buried his face between your legs and Din felt the way your entire body coiled up in anticipation, another trembling cry leaving your lips and your hands twisting frantically into the blanket beneath you. "Mando-!"

His name, his name, you were saying his name even with another man's mouth giving you pleasure. Djarin couldn't help the satisfied little growl that left his lips and made its way through his modulator. He heard Ezra chuckle, the other man pausing to shoot him a sly wink over the length of your body. Din nearly laughed.

"Ezra," He said instead, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Make them cry."

He stopped caring about how wrong it was.

…

You gasped at Mando's words, already inches from bursting into tears. Ezra's mouth was slowly coaxing you open, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw rubbing your thighs. Every pass of his tongue, every gentle press and suckle sought to untangle the knotted ball of heat in your belly, but you were certain you would lose your mind before you managed to disperse the agonizing feeling.

You were too full, almost too aroused to handle Ezra's mouth on your cunt but you were positive if he stopped licking at you, you would die. Heat felt like it was sloshing in your belly, there was so much of it...

Ezra placed a series of delicate kisses on your clit, each one lighter than the last. His hands, still secure in their binders, clutched your right thigh for purchase when he pulled back to gulp air. His expression was dazed, eyes managing to focus on the armored man that loomed over you after several long seconds. "Will you not indulge, Steerforth?" He sounded like he was almost begging Mando, voicing what you couldn't bring yourself to say. "They ask for you, how can you sit there so damned impassive?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you heard Mando exhale raggedly, the bounty hunter muttering, "M' not impassive. There's nothing I-"

"Touch them, for fuck's sake!" Ezra cried, pointedly rattling his cuffs. "I cannot do both. We must work together!"

The Mandalorian lurched suddenly up onto his knees, then sprawled over your body, slamming one hand down to support his weight before wrapping his fingers in the neck of Ezra's tattered thermal shirt. "You don't call the shots here, quarry." He snarled in That Voice, the one that he reserved for his bounties.

Your hands crept up to his hips, hyper aware of the sweet taste in your mouth and how good this would feel. 

…

Ezra stared at the pitch-black visor inches from his nose. Felt the strength in the gloved hand that threatened to do much more than stretch his shirt.

The prospector took a mental inventory of his body at this juncture, a bit surprised and entertained to find that he was thoroughly invested in this new direction the encounter had taken. Mando was no doubt glaring at him from the safety of that impregnable helm, the other man's hackles obviously raised by the jab from the prospector.

It mattered very little at this point in time, however, as Ezra heard a zipper fly open. Mando flinched so hard Ezra felt it in his back, and the sound you made was enough to get the devil to start sweating. "Seems that you may be outnumbered, Steerforth."

"Target rich--environment-" The armored man snarled. "Senaar, y-your--mouth, fuck-"

He stuttered. He stuttered. Ezra latched onto that weakness with a filthy grin, easily twisting out of the other man's grip to duck his head back down and taste you. Mando's other hand hit the blanket as you undulated your hips up to meet Ezra's mouth. Ezra could only imagine the noises you were making around the other man's cock. He knew you were making them by the way Mando's arms quivered. And wasn't that a sight, a man in full armor rendered helpless by the power of a warm, eager mouth on his cock. 

"Watch me now, Steerforth." Ezra crooned, tilting his face up to make presumed eye contact. "This is how you make them weep with pleasure." He was sure that his chin was dripping pink at this point and he knew, even without seeing the other man's face, that Mando was barely hanging on. He had to salute the armored man's dedication. A less devout individual would have given out before they made it to the floor.

The Medusine barrier that the Serpentia formed was slowly weakening under the gentle assault of his mouth, Ezra was pleased to notice. Of course, he wasn't exactly rushing, simply going at a steady pace to keep your pain to a bare minimum. You had begun to leak around the barrier, your arousal even warmer than he had expected. Ezra couldn't tell whether it was because he was under the effects of the pollen or whether it was reality that you tasted immaculate, but he reasoned that it didn't particularly matter. 

He was hungry enough to cope with either happenstance. 

"Little bird, fuck my face, won't you?" He requested sweetly, chuckling at your enthusiastic response. "Grind yourself to completion on my tongue, break the barrier so that your associate can sheathe himself balls deep in this delectable pussy and give you respite." 

...

"Fuck." Din rasped, his eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet. The way that Ezra spoke was like fucking music, the man wrapping filthy words in flowery, incomprehensible syntax. 

The Mandalorian's fingers tangled resolutely in the blanket, the armored man panting as you urged his aching dick even further down your throat. Your hands grappled with his thighs, shoving them wider and then taking two hungry handfuls of his rear to encourage him.

"Senaar-" he started to warn you off, but stopped dead when you moaned around him. Stars, he wondered how you could even breathe-- 

You pulled back, coughing and gasping. "You're doing so well, little bird." Ezra murmured from between your legs. Your only reply was to take Din's cock back into your mouth and oh fuck you weren't stopping-

Your hand found Djarin's in the blankets and you tugged on it, forcing him to try and figure out how to redistribute his weight so you could have the appendage. He managed it of course, he was a fucking Mandalorian after all, but there was a moment where he nearly lost his balance.

You guided his hand to your neck and Din couldn't fight back the groan he let out when he felt his cock bulging through your throat. Fuck, no one had ever been able to take this much of him into their mouth before, halfway was usually the stopping point. 

Djarin grunted and tilted his head down to watch you struggle, finally wrapping a hand around his cock and easing it back out of your mouth. Strands of saliva connected the engorged head of his dick to your lips. Din sighed stupidly at the sight, fisting his dick and coating his glove with your spit. "You're good at this, Senaar." He said gruffly, knowing that it wasn't really praise, not like how Ezra said it. But words had never been his forte. 

"Keep speaking to them Steerforth, they leak at every word out of your mouth." Ezra encouraged from between your legs. "That's right little bird, just a bit more…"

Din was startled, to say the least. You liked when he talked? "I…" he hesitated, then his brow furrowed. "Can't wait to fuck you, Senaar." You whimpered, your hips shuddering. "Fuck you until you don't remember your own fucking name." Din growled. "Breed you like a good Mando should, pump you full of my come just like my Creed-siblings did, right?"

You nodded against his thigh, your sweat seeping through his flight suit to meet his own liberal perspiration. He was so hot, his armor had never been this hot--

"Kevva, that's a kink I didn't anticipate." Ezra panted, pink slick smeared all over his nose and chin. "They certainly like it though, if I understand correctly."

Din could smell you, smell the sweet scent of that fruit mixed with your own arousal. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ezra's neck and he nearly headbutted him on reflex, barely reining the power back in time. Ezra seemed confused at first, the other man obviously dazed with heat and just sort of allowing Djarin to shove his face against his helmet. 

…

The helm was so cool, Ezra couldn't restrain a relieved sigh when he made contact. Mando appeared to be rubbing your essence all over his helmet, utilizing Ezra's face as a paintbrush. Unorthodox, but effective.

"Oh," Ezra realized, "you've got some sort of olfactory sensors in there, don't you. You lewd creature you!" He teased breathlessly. "If you think they smell sumptuous, I regret to inform you that their taste utterly puts that to shame." Words were heavy in his mouth, the prospector having to work harder and harder to put sentences together. It wouldn't be long before his senses wholly abandoned him, he was certain. "Release me, Steerforth, I must…I must carry out my end of the bargain." He groaned, struggling free. "We are almost at their climax."

Mando was nearly vibrating with anticipation, gloved fingers clawing at Ezra's hair. "Careful," was all the armored man said hoarsely. 

Ezra nodded, once again touched by the bounty hunter's surprising display of consideration for his partner. "When the barrier breaks, they will need your cock immediately, Steerforth. I will...not be coherent for much longer." He mumbled against your cunt, giving up on speech after Mando nodded.

With one last sweep of his tongue, the barrier dissolved. You sobbed out, your voice breaking as you writhed beneath your large companion and bucked your hips up against Ezra's eager mouth. Slick fairly poured out of you, leaking down your thighs and soaking the blanket beneath you. 

Ezra didn't remember wriggling his bound hands beneath your rear, simply returning to his senses with your legs over his shoulders and his lungs burning for air but you tasted so good, he felt raw with hunger. 

Mando's gloved hand covered nearly the entirety of his face, easing him back from his feast. Ezra watched the other man's chest heave in a daze until he suddenly remembered what he was doing. "I apologize, I...I am too far gone." He murmured in contrition, lowering your hips back to the floor. 

"Ask nicely to fuck their mouth." Mando ordered, his blunt words digging into Ezra's groin. "You said it hurt you last time because you were alone. You helped them not to hurt. If they don't want to let you to fuck their mouth though, I'll…" he hesitated, "I'll figure something else out. Nobody has to hurt."

"'Something else'?" Ezra repeated, stunned. What on earth could this armored man possibly be offering? Those gloves were remarkably soft, the leather worn smooth from a lifetime of use, no doubt- "Oh."

…

The pain had eased, only to be replaced by a searing emptiness. You squirmed beneath Mando, tangentially aware that he was engaged in a discussion with Ezra. Your hand flew to your pussy, the drenched area making an embarrassingly loud noise when you thrust two fingers into yourself in an effort to quell the ache. 

"Maker, please, please, Mando!" you begged, barely aware of what you were saying. The heat concentrated in your pelvis was burning you alive, desperate tears pouring down your face.

Mando stood to his full height, towering over you, just watching you quiver while you pleaded deliriously. He fairly ambled around your body, moving until he stood between your spread legs. His boot shoved your ankle, opening you even further, exposing every inch of you and the mess that covered the blanket under you. "Senaar." The low burr of modulation made you rock your hips up, whimpering and nodding when he stroked his cock like he was showing off.

Somewhere, deep in your soul, you prayed that he liked what he saw even without the strange pollen instigating. 

He knelt, gloved fingers curling beneath your chin to pull your eyes up from his thick, perfect cock and the puddle of precome it was currently weeping onto your pubic mound. His touch sent flickering trails of electricity through your body, and you could barely focus on what he was asking.

"Ezra...mouth?" 

You nodded rapidly, making Mando bark out what could have been a laugh. He cupped your jaw again, and then his hand stroked your hair in a way that was almost tender. 

"I'll make you feel better." He promised. Ezra was a mess, he looked like you felt. The quarry simply let Mando shove him down onto his knees, his eyes half-lidded. "Undo your suit." Mando ordered and Ezra shakily attempted to obey. He was having a difficult time with his hands still in the binders so you reached out, batting his hands away impatiently to unzip the lower portion of his exosuit.

His thermal leggings were threadbare like his shirt, the waffle-weave fabric soaked through. His cock visibly twitched when you exhaled sharply. "Do not tease me, little bird, I feel as if I am on death's doorstep." The man pleaded through his teeth, "I am raw and agony gnaws at my skin; please take me in your mouth." 

"I have to get your pants off." You tried to explain, fumbling with the article of clothing. The noise of despair he made had you frantically clawing at the pants, finally dragging them down low enough that his cock was freed. It slapped against his belly and he moaned, bound hands digging helplessly into your hair. 

"May I please have your mouth?" He requested raggedly. "I will not take it if you do not give it freely but please, little bird." 

After he had worked so hard to get you to come? You were nodding hurriedly before he finished speaking, and his deep, drawn-out groan of relief was like music to your ears when you swallowed him down. 

…

You were radiating warmth, your hips twitching and shifting restlessly even as you tried to get Ezra's dick out of his suit. Din had to hand it to the other man, he did ask nicely. 

But there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Mainly, your neglected cunt that was currently leaking all over the underside of his cock. Djarin took a steadying breath, and then slowly sank himself into your waiting heat.

Your cry of relief was fucking primal, a hungry, feral snarl that slithered hot and seething in his stomach under the beskar plate. Din was wholly, entirely lost, finding himself mentally shattered at the first stroke into your body. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips and then your legs fell open, like you didn't have the strength to hold them up. 

Shit, he knew he should say something, he knew he should be reluctant about this, but it was like every cell of his body needed you to fucking survive. 

Maybe he always had. 

Din bared his teeth and growled back at you, his attention divided between watching you eagerly suck Ezra's cock and watching the way his own dick split you open. His passage was eased by the strange pink fluid that continued to ooze out of you, stars it was so hot-

Ezra's fingers tangled in your hair after a moment, the prospector cradling your head to his groin in a manner that could have almost been described as gentle.

"Is this how my Creed-siblings f-ucked you, Senaar?" Din's voice grated in his chest, the armored man barely aware of the heated words tumbling out of his mouth. "Filling you, claiming you, fucking your throat and pussy?"

"Kevva." Ezra breathed. "Your peculiar voice working in tandem with your cock appears to be the thing that turns them into a voracious harlot. I do not know if I have ever-" His sentence broke momentarily, "oh, fuck, very well little bird, take the whole of it then." He grunted, raking his fingers through your hair as you deepthroated him. "You are absolutely magnificent at that, you know." The other man praised shakily. 

Your cunt fluttered around Djarin's cock and he felt your arousal soak through his suit, hot fluid sliding down to coat his balls. "Stars, did you just come?" He groaned, unable to stop the filthy noise he made when you whined around Ezra's dick and nodded as best as you could. His fingers gripped your thigh, digging into the skin as he began to rut against you. The Mandalorian threw his head back, panting, "Feel so fucking--good around me, fuck, Senaar, so good-"

…

You felt like you were falling apart again and again. The taste, the sensations, the curling knot of heat in your belly that released inch by inch. Mando's hand on your thigh and Ezra's grip on your head were the things that allowed you to hold on to your sanity, but only just.

Mando was conquering you utterly, his dick driving into you with enough force that you knew you would be aching later, but in the moment you never wanted him to stop. You had craved him, wished for him for so long, to finally have him was total bliss. 

And Ezra, Ezra, his silky voice caressing your body as his bound hands carded through your hair. His cock choked you again and again and every time you had to pull back off of him for breath he praised you, talked about how good you were, how no one had ever taken him as deep as you…

You were in heaven. 

Ezra abruptly retreated, his cock smearing more precome across your lips. "If you continue on in this manner I will be undone, little bird." He muttered. "Your one-sided assault, while inescapably delicious, is rendering me wholly base. You wish for me to spill my seed on your face?" His hips twitched. "Or shall I fuck my come down your throat, request that you swallow every drop?" 

"Fuck it into them." Mando rasped before you could say anything in reply, a gloved hand grabbing your chin. "Fuck your load i-into that sweet little mouth of theirs. Give them what they fucking need, quarry." He demanded, and you nearly came again from how unhinged he sounded. 

"Well, little bird?" Ezra asked softly, his eyes dark with want. "Shall I take my pleasure from your lewd little mouth and let your beautiful throat milk me dry?"

"Please!" You begged, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to encourage him. 

Ezra sighed blissfully at the sight, lacing his fingers through your hair and encouraging you to take his cock until your nose rested against his groin. "Fuc-king gods, you are positively celestial." He groaned, "Relegating yourself to a singular partner would be doing you a disservice, little bird. I highly encourage you to weaponize your talents in whatever field you wish."

Come flooded your mouth, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, your lungs burning for air and you dimly heard Mando snarl, dropping his helm to rest on your sternum. The metal was blessedly cool even through your tunic, helping to anchor you to reality. 

"Fucking touch me, please." Mando's voice shook even with the modulator, his words buzzing through your body. "Senaar please, fuck, pl-please, touch me, fucking--"

Your palms crashed into his shoulders, hips bucking upwards to meet his next thrust and you came again. Mando made a noise that you could only liken to a roar, the armored man grappling at your hips and grinding himself against your dripping cunt. 

"Senaar, Senaar, Senaar--" The name he had given you punctuated every thrust, his rasping tone making your belly drop out. You weren't sure if you would ever stop coming, grasping blindly at Mando and Ezra while your cunt gripped down on Mando's cock.

…

If Ezra still had any doubts about being a blatant proxy for the armored man, that was obliterated in his post-orgasm daze. 

A gloved hand slid to the back of his neck and tugged him down to your mouth. Ezra went clumsily but willingly, the prospector humming when he tasted himself and the cloying sweetness of the Serpentia on your tongue. You sobbed against his lips and Ezra soothed you with his mouth, accepting all of your hungry whimpers and whines as he stroked your hair back off your forehead. 

"Little bird, little bird, you will want for nothing with this individual pummeling you so mercilessly." He breathed, relishing the soft cry that quivered against the skin of his neck. "I imagine you can feel every inch of that prodigious girth, burning like unquenchable quicksilver, threatening to breach your very womb." He moved his bound hands down, resting them on your stomach. "Steerforth, I trust you are punishin' their cervix with every thrust?" He queried, chuckling darkly when Mando just snarled in reply.

You threw your head back, hands fisted in the fabric between Mando's pauldrons and gorget. "Mando-!" You pleaded, "fuck!" 

Mando's hands dug beneath the small of your back and he canted your hips upwards, sheathing his cock in the cradle of your body over and over. Ezra envied the armored man's stamina, grunting when he felt his member trying to rise again. Whether he could blame the pollen for that, he was unsure, but the lovely company certainly did nothing to dissuade his arousal. Watching this large, almost knightly figure rail into you, your face still a mess of tears from when Ezra had fucked your mouth…

Kevva, he could not recall a time where he had been so content to simply play voyeur, pressing the occasional kiss to your lips at Mando's behest. "Such tenderness, what a dichotomous sensation for you," the prospector mused, "the contrast between armor and flesh." His mouth brushed against your ear when he continued, "However, I believe you're beginning to realize that there is an untapped wellspring of man beneath all that metal, am I correct little bird?"

...

You squeezed your eyes shut and Din's hand reached up, the bounty hunter unable to keep from cradling your cheek. "I always knew." You said, your voice barely audible. "I-I always...I always-"

"Be quiet." Din grunted. "Y-You...don't have to say it." His heart slamming in his chest had nothing to do with his current exertion. You knew. Shame reached him dimly through the haze of arousal. All the times he ached to touch you, all the times he battled with himself over his desire for contact…

Your hand gripped the back of his helmet and he flinched sharply. He hadn't noticed you move and you could pull his helmet off, shit, he was so stupid for doing this! His eyes flew to yours, even though he knew you couldn't see through his visor.

After a moment of him fighting back his panic, you just shook your head. "S-Sealed unit, ri-ght?" You asked, your words hitching with his thrusts. Djarin nodded warily. Your eyes half-lidded and you knocked your forehead into his helmet, the gesture unmistakable to a Mandalorian.

A kiss. 

Was his heart breaking, or just fucking giving out under the assault of this insane pollen? Was he overloaded? Was this all just some wild hallucination?

Din frantically shoved his helmet against your face, pinning your head back to the pillow. Shit, he needed to be careful, you didn't have armor. "Senaar, I--" Basic had always been so damn heavy on his tongue. Mando'a flowed, but it was secret. Sacred. Djarin hesitated and you reached up again, cradling the indents on his helmet.

"Always. Even with this." You whispered. 

His brain had short-circuited. The roaring in his ears was deafening and he knew he was making some kind of ugly, wounded noise, but he couldn't actually do anything about it. 

Always. Always. 

His heart must have blown, he reasoned desperately. That was the only explanation for what he was feeling right now.

…

The sound that Mando made after you assured him was heartwrenching, a guttural sob that seemed like a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He clawed at the blanket beneath you, gasping for breath as he all but broke you in half, his dick ripping yet another orgasm from your hungry cunt. 

You were lightheaded from his prolonged fucking, your pussy in spasm around his thick cock, but you refused to give out yet. "Did you feel me come, Mando?" You whimpered against the side of his helmet, wringing more feral noises out of him. "Is it good?"

"Fuck, incredible, s-so--" Mando gripped your thigh, hitching it up over his hip and then dragging his fingers hungrily through the pink slick that had pooled in the crease of your hip. "Never want to leave, fuck, m'sorry, I know I'm t-taking--forever-" 

"Only a fool apologizes for his length in the bedroom." Ezra remarked dryly, dipping down to kiss you when you laughed. "How do you fare, little bird?"

"So good." You sighed, feeling half-drunk on your orgasm high. The knot in your belly had finally gone slack, leaving you weak and trembling beneath Mando as he chased his own completion. You hummed and Ezra rumbled back, his touch remarkably careful when he cupped your chin. 

"You have done so well." Ezra murmured. "Serpentia is no simple storm to weather, yet you have endured." Mando wordlessly bumped his helmet against Ezra's temple, the metal rubbing over the blond tuft of hair the quarry sported. "You are most welcome, Steerforth." Ezra chuckled. "One is glad to be of service, but please. You threatened to fill them, didn't you?"

Mando's hips faltered in their rhythm and the armored man finally came with a shattered moan of relief. Stars, you weren't sure if you had the Serpentia to blame for the sheer volume that he came; you could feel it frothing out of you around his cock as he continued to shudder and writhe through his orgasm. 

"Holy shit, Mando." You said incredulously, unable to fight back the urge to slip a hand down between your bodies. "You told me Mandalorians were rare."

"We--are." Mando panted raggedly, his cock still twitching inside you.

"If you come like this, how?" You asked, your combined fluids soaking your questing fingers. Mando just stared at you for a moment, shoulders heaving while he struggled to catch his breath.

And then he started laughing, which was...not nearly as terrifying as you had expected, honestly. "Stars, you--" He wheezed, his helm thudding gently against your forehead. "Fuck you, Senaar." You could hear him grinning, his voice still warm with laughter. 

"Odd method of displaying affection. I take it your Creed is of a fraternitous bent?" Ezra commented, a quiet noise of surprise escaping him when you tugged him down for a kiss.

"Thank you." You mumbled drowsily into his mouth. 

"Hardly. I ought to thank you. When last I endured the Serpent's grasp, I was incarcerated and driven to gratify myself to ribbons on the inside of my gear." Ezra informed you, his tone nonchalant. "This experience was a rare moment of hedonistic bliss in my life. Believe me when I say I shall cherish it."

He straightened up before you could say anything in reply, extending his bound wrists to Mando.

"Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

Mando ignored him for another moment, stroking your forehead tenderly. He appeared to have noticed your weariness, because he sounded softer when he spoke. "Sleep, Senaar. It's over."

…

"I'll cut you loose on Sorgan." 

Ezra swiveled in the co-pilot chair, knowing that his expression must border on the befuddled. When the armored man had left you to sleep, hauled Ezra into the cockpit and secured his binders to the chair, the prospector had assumed that whatever agreement they struck previously was rendered null and void. "I would be...wholeheartedly grateful to you, Steerforth." He breathed.

"I never found you. Your pod malfunctioned and you burned alive in the atmosphere." Mando instructed him in that level, modulated voice. "Stop stealing shit and I won't have to hunt you down again."

"Those men stole from me!" Ezra retorted hotly, knocking his elbow down into the white case that hung off his hip. "I worked alone for stands and they came along right at the most opportune juncture, put a thrower to my head and robbed me! I simply reclaimed-"

Mando waved a hand, interrupting his self-righteous tirade. "You and I both know that it doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting the credits this time, but next time…" he trailed off pointedly. "Don't get caught again. If someone else from my Guild chapter picks up your bounty, Mandalorian or otherwise, they will catch you." 

Mando leaned in close, his elbows resting on his knees and helmet propped up on his folded hands. Ezra felt for all the world like a specimen underneath a microscope, barely suppressing the urge to squirm nervously. 

"The bounty specified that you be captured warm." The armored man said after a beat. "No promise of half-payment upon cold delivery or even proof of demise. So whoever you got into a pissing match with wants to be the one to put that last slug into your brain. You already heard my advice. For your own good, I suggest you lay low and be fucking quiet." He gestured out the cockpit viewport at the green sphere that hovered in the distance. "There's good people on that planet. Good people that I care about. If you bring hunters to their doorstep, I will find out. And then I will find you."

Kevva have mercy, this man was no joke. Ezra was having a difficult time just mustering up the breath to give him an affirmation! Was this truly the same Lancelot he had watched engage in lotus-eating debauchery with his Guinevere not two hours hence? Ezra's belly roiled uncertainly, arousal and fear a potent combination. This must be how the bounty hunter indulged himself without divesting his plate, the prospector reasoned dimly. Fear was a remarkably stimulating thing. "Of course." He finally answered, his voice a little reedy. "Your mercy is...unexpectedly generous, but no less appreciated for its spontaneity."

Mando grunted, seeming satisfied with his response. The armored man returned to the control panel after a moment, flipping a few switches. The entire ship appeared to be miles above what Ezra was used to. Even the Testin had a dog-eared manual that hung from a chain by the central dash, and the craft was such a rattling nightmare that she needed three bodies just to keep her straight. But this man, this...Mandalorian, he operated the whole blasted vessel with a fluid ease. 

His next words were so quiet Ezra nearly missed them. "Thank you."

"Pardon?" Ezra queried blankly.

Mando heaved a sigh that made his pauldrons visibly dip. "I said, thank you." He growled awkwardly. "I don't know what...I don't know if I would have hurt them because of--because of how I am." 

"It will do no good to ruminate on such dour subjects." Ezra hesitated, then continued, "but your Creed...would you have broken it for them, had you known about the requirements of the Medusine barrier?"

"I…" Mando tightened his hold on the directionals, those gloves creaking with his tension. "I'm not sure." He admitted, lapsing into silence afterwards.

"Your ship is marvelously responsive." Ezra murmured by way of changing the subject. "It reminds me of a diminutive Screamer-class that I endured a few stands on, oh, nearly fifteen cycles ago-"

"Be quiet."

…

Din watched Ezra until he vanished between the large trunks of Sorgan's conifers, the Mandalorian then dropping back into the pilot's seat with a groan. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped he hadn't just unleashed some mass-murdering psychopath on the unsuspecting populace.

Djarin tilted his helmet back against the headrest of the seat, aimlessly staring up at the fuselage. 

What the hell was he going to say when you woke up? 

Din's heart sank. He knew that he couldn't believe anything that had come out of your mouth while you had been under the effects of that fruit. Serpent's Tongue. He chewed his lower lip meditatively. 

He could lie. 

He fucking cringed at the thought, then shook his head at himself. You would be embarrassed at best, but at worst…

Shit, he didn't want to lose you, even if you didn't feel the same way about him. And then there was the kid to worry about. No, a lie would be better. 

You had sought out other Mandos. His stomach lurched as he recalled that little fact. Fuck, fuck, was it hope that beat so insistently in his throat?

A sealed unit, he had said.

He just wouldn't bring it up. He was the one who had insisted that this whole maneuver was struck from the proverbial records in the first place, right? He just wouldn't mention it. Easy enough. If you said something, that was fine, but otherwise…

Din nodded firmly. This is the Way.

Part Two

[justthehiddleswrites]

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC | Chapter 7

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him.  He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim.  An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond.  Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.  

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds.  But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.   A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love.  Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life.  A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them.  Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: Loki will do whatever it takes to find out what is wrong with Alexis. 

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst,  Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

-

Alexis groaned as the medics lifted her onto the gurney, but she didn’t wake.

“Take care with her!” Loki snapped at them, rushing to Alexis’s side, grabbing her limp hand. “She is pregnant.”

The medics shared a glare fully prepared to inform him they knew how to do their job when Tony caught their eye and waved them off. Best not to make Loki any more angry than he was. At least not until they sorted Alexis.

“Of course, sir.” The taller of the two nodded at Loki. “We are heading down Dr. Cho. I assume you are riding down with us?”

Loki nodded and followed them to the elevator. The eyes of every Avengers followed the three of them along with the gurney and willed the elevator doors to ding close. The moment the doors closed, Tony spun around to face the room.

“Okay, everyone has exactly three seconds to explain WHAT THE HELL is going on?”

The room exploded into conversation as people pointed fingers and yelled accusations and theories. Steve, Tony and Bruce cornered Thor to pump him for the “full story.” Nat sat quietly off to the side, worried about Alexis. A loud whistle cut through the din. Everyone turned to face Clint.

“They’re in a relationship.” He stated with no facial expression.

Tony blinked at him. “Well, yeah, a weird baby daddy, cohabitating thing. We all—”

“No, I mean they are in a romantic relationship. They are sleeping together. If you ask me, they’re in love with each other.” Clint huffed. He stepped forward to come toe to toe with Tony. “They know about you and Banner’s bet.”

Bruce blushed and flailed. “There’s no bet. I don’t know what you are talki—”

“When are you going to learn? I hear everything that goes on around here?!” Clint slammed his hand against the sofa. “I was in the vent when you made the bet. We decided to teach the two of you a lesson.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, Loki, and Alexis. They pretended like they were on the outs, breaking up to get even with you two meddling.” Clint crossed his arms.

“So is this fainting spell just part of an elaborate prank to get back at Tony and Bruce?” Steve piped up. “I should have done Loki would pull some sort of shit like that.”

“It’s no joke.” Thor finally joined the conversation. “I know my brother better than any of you. That was genuine fear in Loki’s eyes. Whatever is ailing Lady Alexis is no prank.”

Everyone stared at Thor in shock, confusion, and anxiety. Nat snapped out of her daze.

“I’m going down there.” She stomped off towards the elevator. Clint caught her elbow.

“Nat. Give them space. Give him space.”

Her mouth fell open. “But I can…” she protested.

“No, you can’t. There is nothing you can do down there but be in the way.” Clint continued.

“JARVIS!” Tony yelled into the air. “Send hourly updates on Dr. Randall to all the Avengers.”

“Yes, sir.” The clipped British accent responded.

“Thanks, Tony.” Nat gave the group a small smile.

Tony’s own brain was running fast, but he kept his worries to himself. He clapped his hands together.

“Alright with that sorted, they get on with the day. The world isn’t going to save itself.”

With hesitant motions, the rest of the team moved along. Clint disappeared to wherever he disappeared to. Bruce headed with Tony to the labs while Nat and Steve headed to the training facilities to work off some excess energy. Thor headed off to his quarters, too concerned over his brother and Alexis to get much else done.

-

Dr. Cho relegated Loki to a hard plastic chair off to the side as she examined Alexis. Loki paced instead. He could see everything that was happening through the clear glass panels separating the examination room. Things did not appear to be going well by the expression on Dr. Cho’s face. Three hours later, Dr. Cho came out to update Loki.

“There is nothing physically wrong I can find with her, Loki.” Cho sighed.

“And the baby?” Loki wrung his hands.

“Strong heartbeat, moving around. Do you want to know the sex? I did an ultrasound.”

Loki’s brows rose. He hadn’t thought about knowing the sex of the baby. His eyes darted to Alexis’s lying on the hospital bed. Hooked up to tubes and machines, eyes closed. It was a punch to his gut.

“We haven’t discussed it. I will wait until she wakes up to decide, if that is alright with you.”

Helen nodded. “Of course, Loki. I am still waiting on a few lab results to come back, and then I am sending them off to a few specialists. I would suggest going back to your apartment where you can be more comfortable. I will make sure JARVIS alerts you of any changes in her condition.”

“If it is all the same, I will just stay here.” Loki widened his stance as if Dr. Cho would attempt to forcibly remove him from the medbay. If it were any other circumstances, she would point out the 180 turn of events since the last time Loki was here with Alexis.

“I can only offer you a hard plastic chair.” She gestured at the standard issue chairs throughout the rooms. “And strong coffee.”

Loki gave her a sad smile. “I have been in worse situations. With far less pleasant company.”

Dr. Cho smiled back and then nodded before walking away to analyze all of Alexis’s results. Loki pulled a chair close enough to Alexis’s bed to hold her hand and sat down as his fingers weaved in with hers.

“Please wake up, darling.” Loki pleaded. The only answer he got was the steady beep of the machines monitoring all of Alexis’s vitals.

-

“Brother…” Thor rocked Loki by the shoulder. Loki’s long frame crunched up on two hard plastic chairs. His arm tucked under his head to act as a pillow. Nothing about his posture looked comfortable. After several hours of no changes in Alexis’s condition, Loki dozed off.

“Brother… wake up.” Thor shook him more forcefully this time. Which rewarded him with Loki snatching his wrist with his quick reflexes.

“Must you continue to wake me, Brother? Leave me in peace.” Loki groaned as he unfolded himself, joints cracking and popping. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s almost midnight, Loki. You never came back. I came to check on you.”

Loki glanced out to the window to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night. He gave Thor a wry smile. “Well, as you can see,” Loki gestured up and down his body. “I am alive and well, so leave me be.” He waved Thor away.

Thor sighed and spun a chair backwards to sit near Loki. “While you may be alive, you are clearly not well, Loki.” He spied his brother’s hand intertwined with Alexis’s. “Barton told us.”

Loki’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t lose her, Brother. I love her.” His voice hoarse and cracking. “And our child…” Loki’s head dropped to the bed.

Thor reached over to comfort Loki, not knowing exactly what to say. “Lady Alexis is strong. How else could she have endured all these weeks living with you?”

The two gods chuckled at Thor’s joke. “Very true. I have not been on my best behavior.” Loki added.

“And now?” Thor raised an eyebrow.

“I have definitely not been on my best behavior.” Loki smirked.

“You were always one for mischief when it came to your lovers.”

Loki’s mood darkened, thinking back to Sigrun and his father. And the events leading him here. Alexis and his unborn child. He wondered where he would have ended up if he had agreed to the arranged marriage and Odin’s meddling. Loki imagined miserable in a completely different way than he was now.

“You were right, Brother.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

Loki gave another thin smile. “About love being worth the trouble.”

Thor chuckled and smiled. “I have not always been the best at telling you, but I have only wanted the best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I am. I was. I am?” Loki questioned. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Thor stood and offered his hand. “Go upstairs, Loki. Eat and sleep in your bed. I will stay with Lady Alexis for the rest of the night.”

Loki’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, Thor.”

The two embraced and Loki wearily rose and left the medbay to sleep and eat before the next day. Once he left, Thor settled his oversized body into one of the undersized chairs. He stared at Alexis’s still body, her breathing shallow and even. The only sound was the constant beeping of the machines.

“I imagine you to be some kind of witch.” Thor spoke to Alexis. “Because it would take powerful magic to tame the beast that is Loki’s heart.”

-

Three Weeks Later

Alexis was still in a coma, and Loki was no closer to any answers why.

“What do you mean there is nothing physically wrong with her?!” He bellowed at Dr. Cho. “She is in a coma!” Loki jabbed a finger at Alexis’s room.

Tony arranged to move her to a more private area of the medbay and set up a second small bed in the corner since Loki refused to leave. Meals appeared from thin air. Although he suspected Nat was to blame. Even Steve came down to offer what little comfort he could. Loki now stalked the floor. Tony moved all non-essential personnel to another part of the Tower after getting several HR complaints.

“I don’t know what else to tell you. Her vital signs are stable, as are the baby’s. She is just asleep. By all accounts, she should be awake.” Dr. Cho explained.

Loki flipped a table, sending his dinner flying around the room. Helen took several steps back.

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Loki screamed.

Alexis’s machines rang an alarm, and the screens flashed. Helen rushed to the machines while Loki grabbed Alexis’s hand.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Shouldn’t you be apologizing to me?” Cho piped up while she checked some printouts.

“Apologies.” He said with an eye roll. “What happened?”

“Her vitals spiked and then dropped. Triggering the alarms.” Helen glanced over at him with a grim expression. “They are stabilizing.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “What else?”

Dr. Cho sighed. “They are stabilizing at lower levels. Whatever is keeping her unconscious seems to be for lack of a better word… draining her.”

Loki stormed out the medbay without another word.

-

Thor was just getting ready to relax for a meal in his apartment when Loki burst through the door without bothering to knock.

“Do you mind, Loki?” Thor rose to face his brother. “I am about to eat.”

“I need to go to Asgard.”

Thor stared at Loki. “I don’t think that is a…” Thor then realized what happened. “What is going on with Lady Alexis?”

Loki collapsed onto the back of the couch. “In simple terms, she is dying. And no one can help her here. She needs our healers. I need to go to Asgard.”

“You realize Father is in Asgard.”

Loki gazed up at him, his eyes rimmed with red and sunken in surrounded by dark circles.

“I am well aware of the implications of my return. But if you were in my place, if your love was slowly dying from the inside out, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to save her?”

Thor sighed. “We can leave within the hour. I will inform the rest of the team of our departure while you make arrangements for Alexis to travel.”

Loki nodded and Thor headed for the door. Loki grabbed his arm. “Thank you, Thor.”

Thor covered Loki’s hand with this own and squeezed. “I am sure the healers will be able to help.”

“I hope so.” Loki replied glumly. “Because I am out of options.”

-

They were greeted by not only Heimdall but Frigga as well when they stepped back onto Asgard.

“Loki!” Frigga rushed to his side. Alexis’s body slumped against his chest while Loki cradled her in his arms. She noticed the roundness of Alexis’s belly. “I see what the fuss is about now. Let us get her to the healers. We can catch up later. Thor, the Allfather requested your audience.”

Thor nodded and took off towards the palace as Loki and Frigga whisked Alexis to the healers.

-

Loki paced outside the doors of the healing chambers while Frigga sat with him, reading a book.

“You will wear the floor out.” she commented with a smirk.

“Just another thing for Odin to blame me for. The replacement of the palace floors.” Loki sneered.

Frigga ignored Loki and pressed on with other things. “She’s pretty. How did you meet?”

Loki spun around to face her. “Do you care? Does it matter?”

Frigga set her book down on the chair as she stood to face Loki. “It matters when she is carrying my grandchild.” Frigga reached up to cup Loki’s cheek. “It matters when she has also is carrying my son’s heart.”

Loki gazed at his mother with wet eyes. “I—”

The doors opened and Loki’s mask fell back into place.

“You can come in now.” The attendant announced. Loki pushed past her.

Alexis laid out on the stone slab. Three attendants hovered over her. One operated the Soul Forge while another took notes. A third injected something into Alexis’s arm.

“What are you giving her!? She is—”

“We are well aware of her condition.” The head healer spoke. “I must admit it stumped us at first. But once we calibrated the Soul Forge for Vanir physiology, it was clear what was going on.”

“Which is exactly what?” Loki blinked as his brain processed the rest of what was said. “Wait, Vanir?!”

Frigga’s eyes darted between her son and the healer, ready to step in if necessary. The healer, oblivious to what was going on, continued explaining.

“In the second trimester, Vanir babies’ magical abilities manifest, feeding off the mother’s energy. The injection masks the magic until birth. She will need to continue taking it once a week until she delivers.”

Loki stumbled backwards. “Will she—”

“Recover? There should be no lasting effects to her or the baby. Except maybe a wicked headache and increased appetite.”

Loki allowed a few tears to fall onto his cheeks. Frigga grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Thank you.”

Frigga cleared her throat. “Perhaps we could have the room for a few moments?”

The attendants nodded. “Of course, my Queen.” Everyone shuffled out of the room with a rustle of fabric. Loki made no move until the heavy doors closed behind him with a thud. Loki collapsed against Frigga.

“I take from your response, you were unaware of Alexis’s lineage.”

Loki gulped. “She never mentioned it.” He kneeled besides Alexis, the color returned to her cheeks. “You are going to be fine, my love. We have much to discuss when you wake.” Alexis groaned. Loki kissed her cheek. “It’s time to wake up.”

Frigga smiled at the sight of her son so fully devoted to someone. And the prospect of a grandchild. Her first grandchild. She would be lying if she said Loki was her first guess of the son to give her a grandchild first.

Alexis’s eyes fluttered open. “Loki… where am I?”

Loki’s tears wetted her skin as he sobbed. “Home. My home.” He smiled at her. “I thought I had lost you.”

She blinked a few times to adjust to the light. “Home? The Tower?” She noticed they were in a massive room with stone walls. “Where are we?”

Loki helped her sit up. “On—”

The doors slammed open and Odin strolled in, followed closely by Thor. “—Asgard and you will be leaving presently.”

Loki stepped in front of Alexis. “She will do no such thing. She is sick.”

“She does not belong here, Loki. And neither do you.” Odin responded cooly.

Loki nodded. “Still as inflexible as always, Father.”

“Loki, this is your Father?” Alexis peeked from around him.

Odin’s eyes caught Alexis, and he froze, the blood draining from his face for a moment before the mask of indifference fell back into place. But Loki and Frigga caught it.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Father, what have you done?”

[soggy-platee]

What Do We Do Now?- Chp. 4

Rating: M

Pairing: Din x Fem!Reader

Summary: Din learns more about you.

Note: All chapters are on ao3, just posting here if anyone likes it on Tumblr better! Ao3 here.

You had learned several things since taking off. Mainly, that the child was incredibly interested in you.

From the moment the Mandalorian, Mando, as you heard Peli call him, had brought him aboard, he had been desperately trying to get to you.

Still magnetized to the side of the ship, you had managed to slide your cuffs down far enough so you could sit on the floor, not comfortably, you noted, but still able to. The child had managed to squirm his way over to you for the second time in the several hours you had been flying, pulling on your pant leg in a desperate bid for attention. You offered him a small smile, hoping to convey that your hands were tied. Literally. He babbled at you and you feigned interest, quizzically tilting your head and nodding as he vocalized. He squealed in delight at your actions, which alerted his less adorable, just as mysterious father to his location.

A loud thud sounded as the Mandalorian dismounted the ladder from the cockpit, head jerking toward the location of the child at your feet. He huffed loudly and stalked over to you, reaching down and picking up the child with a carefulness that almost made you think he had a soul under all that metal. Almost.

He was still bringing you to your death, no matter how attractive he was or how cute his kid could be.

You had been trying to rectify your situation in your head as you flew. Maybe that old bastard wouldn’t kill you. Maybe he had gotten his wife back and he just wanted to... punish you? You stopped yourself from hoping for that outcome, both because you knew deep down it was impossible, and because you hoped that your efforts to free that woman were not in vain.

You hadn’t seen her since you parted ways a few klicks from the mansion, you had simply wished her luck. She wouldn’t have been any safer with you.

Clearly.

Mando was turning around to leave you alone in the hull once again when you dared to ask him,

“W-What planet are you taking me to?”

No response, he just kept moving back toward the ladder.

“H-Hey!”, you said louder, “Where are you taking me?”

He stopped then, and faced you, the child still held in one arm.

“Nevarro”

Nevarro?

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

Why the hell would he be on Nevarro?

“The man that placed my bounty, he’s there?”

No response again, he had reached the ladder now.

“Wait!” you yelled, a little too forcefully while tugging on your bindings to get his attention. You immediately regretted your tone when he turned quickly back toward you and glowered. Well, you figured he must have been under the helmet.

“I can still put you in carbonite, no more questions.”

It was the most words he had strung together since his initial threat in the cantina. You went quiet.

He climbed the ladder and you were once again alone in the hull of the ship. The time to yourself allowed you to realize just how tired you were. Your very bones ached with exhaustion. You hadn’t slept since you had initially fled from your flat the day before. That had been over a day ago, and the near-constant panic had not helped with your tiredness. You leaned your head back against the cool metal of the ship’s interior, your eyes slipping closed. You were worried. You were scared. But your current exhaustion overrode these feelings and you feel into a fitful sleep.

…

In your dreams, you felt the Mandalorian. His iron grip on your arm, pushing you further and further toward the freezer, nothing but inky blackness beyond the metal frame. You tried to plead, to fight. You screamed, you cried, you begged. The interior of the ship melted away and was replaced by the dull walls of your childhood home. No. Your blood ran cold. You looked down at the hand holding your arm. There was no glove. No beskar. Just rough and bloody knuckles. You wrenched yourself around to look into the face of the person holding you. Into eyes that looked too much like yours-

You awoke to your head crashing violently into the wall behind you. Lights danced behind your eyes on impact, and before you had time to process your dream or the pain now blossoming at the base of your skull, the entire ship flipped. The cuffs held tight, so your shoulders were left to take the brunt of your shifting body. You screamed in pain as you felt one of them for sure pop out of place as your entire weight was held with them. Your ass was slammed back into the ground as the ship righted itself, your right shoulder still burning with pain. You heard the sound of guns firing, and were jolted once more when one bolt impacted the ship. The lightning flickered, and then the hull was plunged into darkness.

Several sounds from above reminded you of the Mandalorian’s presence. A gruff curse, an opening hatch, and the sounds of Mando descending the ladder distracted you from the pulsing pain in your arm. You looked blindly out at the pitch blackness, head darting to follow the heavy footsteps that filled the hull. From what you could gather, he was nearly directly across for you. You heard a panel open, a grunt as sparks flittered from some wires, and suddenly the lights returned. You winced against the harsh light as your vision focused on the armored form in front of you. He turned to you now, closing the hatch and tucking the wires back inside.

You were panting, with both the stress of being flipped and the pain in your shoulder nearly overwhelming you. He noticed. He walked over to you and stood above you, studying you silently.

“What?” you gritted out.

“Are you hurt?”, he asked after a beat.

You were annoyed. Who is this bounty hunter to kidnap you, threaten your life, and then ask if you were hurt?

Of course you were.

Your anger boiled over, “Why would you care?” you spat.

He simply continued to look down at you.

You held out for several seconds, before sighing and saying, “My shoulder, I think it’s dislocated”.

He crouched then, helmet almost level with your face. He tilted his head and inspected your shoulder. He must have agreed, as he reached one hand behind your back to grip your cuffs. He used his other hand to grip the front of your tunic tightly.

“Don’t try anything”

Did he think you were that stupid?

He released the cuffs and your arms groaned in protest as your moved your hands to rest in your lap. He reached forward and gently grabbed your right shoulder. You hissed in pain at the contact but he didn’t stop his probing, moving his gloved fingers along the joint.

“It is.”

Yeah, I know, you thought. But you stayed silent, looking into his visor. You felt heat rise to your face as his gaze held yours with his body so close.

“I’m going to set it, get ready”

You nodded slightly, and as you readied yourself to draw in a breath, he snapped the joint back into place.

The lack of warning made you scream, a short sound that echoed through the hull but did not seem to affect Mando in the slightest.

After your ragged breathing had evened out, he removed his hands from your shoulder and stood up, glancing around the ship. You wanted to ask what happened, who had been shooting at you, but your nerves made the words catch in your throat.

He made his way back to the cockpit, and after a moment, you felt the ship begin to descend. You were nowhere close to Nevarro, so the ship must need repairing. You felt both a sense of relief and dread at this development. On one hand, it gave you more time to think of a plan. You still needed to get yourself out of this mess.

On the other hand, it left you more time at the mercy of his overbearing, terrifying presence.

You craned your neck in an attempt to look out the small porthole. You managed to get a glimpse of the planet, covered almost entirely in snow and ice. Great, this is what you get for complaining so much about the heat of Tatooine.

As the ship continued its descent, you wondered about how this was going to work, exactly. The damage you figured must be pretty extensive, so what would become of you as it was repaired? What would he do with the child? You glanced across to the carbon freezer. You realized that it was the simplest solution for the hunter and shuttered.

He had relented before, he had to do it again, right? You figured there was no way that old man cared if you were alive or dead, however.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold”

He really might just kill you this time.

Your shoulder still throbbed dully as you heard Mando descend from the cockpit once more. He had his back to you, but you assumed he held the child in his free arm. He moved over to a hatch on the far side of the ship and pressed a button on his right vambrace to reveal a…cubby?

His bed, you realized.

He deposited the child in a small hammock hanging inside.

Okay, that was cute.

You saw his large eyes meet with the Mandalorian’s helmet before the hatch snapped shut with him inside. He turned to face you. It was only now that you realized that he had never put the cuffs back on.

Maker, I’m an idiot, you thought. You missed your chance! You had this entire time to… to…

Escape?

What the hell were you going to even do?

You were trapped on a junker you had no idea how to operate with a living weapon and a green bean. Escape wasn't really an option you could entertain.

He was standing in front of you now, a slightly defensive stance with a hand hovering over his blaster as he looked at your cuffless hands. You paused and realized what he wanted. You held your hands out limply, grunting against the pain in your shoulder.

“Can you at least cuff me in front? I think I’ll pass out if you try to touch my arm right now."

He moved his hands from his blaster to the cuffs deftly and slapped them on your wrists and pushed them toward the wall, once again trapping you.

You wondered why you had given up so easily.

He stood again and said one word before striding to the mouth of the ship, opening the bay doors,

“Stay.”

You were really getting tired of him saying that to you.

As he was walking down the ramp, you suddenly realized,

“What about the kid? You’re just gonna leave him shut up in there?”

No response. Big surprise.

You rolled your eyes at the back of his head as the bay doors closed and you were trapped in silence once again.

...

You fall in and out of consciousness to the sound of work on the outside of the ship. In your moments of waking, you feel hunger gnaw at you. You think back to the last time you ate, the night before you had originally run from the Mandalorian. You wonder if he’ll feed you, or deliver you as skin and bones to his client.

You are shaken from your thoughts when you hear cooing from the sleeping hatch. You had almost forgotten about the child.

Some dad he is, you thought, leaving a baby all alone in a ship with a criminal.

Well, criminal in the least dangerous sense of the word.

It had to have been at least half a day since the hunter had left you two alone on the ship, no wonder he was getting fussy. You wished you could do something about it.

Mostly, you wished you could get out of the cuffs. They were really killing your wrists, as you had them on for Maker knows how long now.

The cooing got louder, escalating into what you could almost call crying. Small hiccupped breaths followed by loud wines emanated through the ship. You had never been the maternal type (now that you think of it, you don’t even think you’ve ever held a baby), but his cries were tugging on your heartstrings.

Suddenly, the cries stopped, followed by an eerie silence, before the hatch came open. The child, still in his hammock, squealed happily when his eyes found you.

You smiled back at him, confused.

How did he do that?

You peered inside the cubby, trying to see if there were buttons within his reach that you couldn’t see. Before you could do so, the child half climbing/half falling out of his hammock caught your attention. He made his way down to the cot, and then down to the floor with what, you had to admit, were some impressive climbing skills for such a little body.

He practically tripped over his own little feet in his attempt to get to you as fast as possible. You couldn’t help but grin widely, wondering how this little ball of joy ended up with such a joyless father.

He reached your legs, you were currently sitting cross-legged on the ground which he interpreted as an invitation to crawl into your lap. You attempted to use your elbows, pulled across your front due to your cuffs held tight to the wall, to pat the little one on the head. It hadn’t worked as well as you had hoped, but he seemed delighted, reaching up and pulling them down in order to climb closer to your face. He scrambled up your arms, grabbing too tight on your still burning shoulder. You gasped in pain. He stopped then, removing his little hand from your arm, he looked up at you with big, wide eyes.

You smiled back to him, “It’s okay little one, it’s not your fault”, hoping to convey that you weren’t mad.

He still stared silently back at you.

“It just hurts a little, that’s all. Your dad isn’t the best piolet, is he?”

You wondered if he had any idea what you were saying.

Slowly, he returned his attention to your hurt shoulder. He moved his hand toward it and you were about to object before he touched it ever so gently, laying his three fingers at the base of the joint.

You stopped, confused for a moment before a warmth suddenly ran through your arm. You gasped and almost pulled away before you felt the dull ache leave your shoulder like flowing water. You relaxed into the touch, eyes slipping closed, allowing the last of the discomfort to slip away.

Before you had time to react, the little one fell backward, eyes closed, from his place perched on your elbows to your crossed knees below.

Your brief panic was quelled by his eyes blinking back open, staring up at you with a soft coo.

You looked down at the child in your lap with eyes wide.

What?

No, really, What?!

You experimentally rolled your shoulder, feeling absolutely no pain. In fact, it felt better than you could ever remember it feeling.

Maybe you were imagining things. It was impossible, right? Right? There was no wa-

The next thing you knew, the hull was open and the Mandalorian was standing there, blaster pointed directly at you. You looked back at him dumbfounded. What had you done? You raised your hands in the cuffs as a sign of peace, still confused about his sudden threat.

Once your mind caught up, you looked into your lap. Um, hello?

His son was in the lap of the person who was currently his prisoner for crime, you know, a criminal!?

You immediately began speaking frantically,

“N-No, it’s not what it looks like! He just… I didn’t hurt-, I wouldn’t-“

He stalked over to you and grabbed the child quickly, blaster level with your brow now.

“Explain.”

This guy is really a fan of single-word orders.

You stumble over your words,

“He-He was crying. In the hatch. And then he stopped, I don’t know how…he got out and came over to me. He was just having f-fun, then he saw I was hurt and he…with his hand…”

You trailed off and lowered your head, unable to explain what had happened in words.

“He healed you?”

Your eyes jerked to his visor.

He knew?

Was this something that was common in the galaxy? And this was just the biggest oversight of your entire existence?

No. No way.

“…Yes? I think so. My shoulder... it doesn’t hurt anymore, at all.”

He just huffed and walked away, holstering his blaster and reaching his other hand up to check up on the child, tilting his little chin up to his.

Um, no. He didn’t just get to not explain that.

“How can he do that? What is that? Wh-what is he?”

“He’s a child”

No shit.

You were about to speak again, demanding he answer your questions when he beat you to it.

“It’s just something he does, it won’t affect you any further.”

Okay, he somehow managed to answer none of your actual questions. You sat and watched as he deposited the kid back in the hammock. He turned back to you.

“Were going to be here overnight, get some sleep.”

You looked at him, wondering how the hell he just brushed over that whole event so quickly. He turned his back, preparing to crawl into the hatch with the child, you realized.

“Wait!”

Silence, then “What?”

“I-uh”

“Spit it out.”

“I-uh…need to use the fresher”

Silence. A sigh.

Then he was walking over to you, demagnetizing your cuffs and hauling you to your feet. He stopped you at the door of the small fresher, pushing you toward the opening slightly. You turned to look up into his visor.

Maker, had he always a head taller than you?

“Can you take the cuffs off?”

“Your hands are in front”

It was worth a shot. You walked into the fresher and he slid the door closed behind you.

Though you really did have to relieve yourself, you also wanted to look at yourself in the mirror. Call it a strange curiosity, but you wanted to see what you looked like after the insanity of the last two days. Your eyes had deeper circles than you had ever seen. Your hair was still tucked tightly into your long braid but pieces had fallen out to frame your face. Oh, you were also covered in dirt from head to toe. Your little fence scuffle with Mando had left you dirty, and you clearly had no time to clean up. You hadn’t noticed, but your tunic had also ripped at the sleeve, revealing a little bit of skin. The thin pale line of a scar shone through the torn material. You shivered. The last person you needed to think about right now was him. Hey, things could be worse. You could be given over to him. If he was still alive. The idea of him dead warmed you a little, at least. You finished up in the fresher and desperately tried to wipe some of the dirt off yourself before you heard a heavy fist on the door.

Yeah, Yeah.

You pushed open the door the best you could with your cuffed hands and stepped out.

He looked you up and down. What? You thought irritably. His gaze lingered on your shoulder, at least that's where you thought he was looking. Seconds ticked by and you grew more confused. Then, he started moving you again.

Instead of leading you back to the wall, however, he led you to the right, beyond his sleeping quarters to a larger hatch. You looked up at him, a question on your lips when he opened the hatch and ushered you inside. It was a small storage room with a single mat on the floor, crates surrounding the area. You turned back to him, tilting your head in confusion.

“The door locks from the outside, don’t try anything.”

The door shut behind you, plunging you into near-total darkness. Wasn’t he just about to let you sleep on the cold floor of the ship with your hands still cuffed to the wall?

Why did he change his mind?

[captainrexforever]

Trials and Tribulations 2/2

Rating: T

Word count: ~6k

Summary: The reader discovers that she has formed a force bond with her Mandalorian companion. This has some unforeseen complications during the events at the Imperial refinery on Morak.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical violence, more Dad! Fett, awkward! Din, use of in-universe curse words

Note: Part 2 at last! There are quite a few pov. changes, so I hope that they don’t interrupt the flow of the story too much. Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy! 

Pt. 1

After settling into the cockpit alongside Fett, the only thing you can do is wait for Fennec’s signal, but that doesn’t mean you have to be bored. 

“Is it too much to ask for a tour of the flight controls?” 

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” He speaks honestly. 

You can only chuckle in response and shrug. “What can I say, I’m not used to holding a conversation with my crewmate.”

“I take it Mando doesn’t talk much.” 

His eyes search your face, and although you attempt to hold his gaze, your eyes fall to the floor as you answer. “No, he doesn’t.”

Fett only nods in response, and you have a sudden urge to change the subject. “So, I noticed that you wear your helmet while flying, even though all the screens are displayed on the console.”

He must note the change in topic, but he doesn’t bring it up. “Yes, I tied all the tracking technology into the visor of my helmet. That way if I have to aim at something while in flight, I can observe it through the viewport and follow the object with my eyes, as if aiming a real blaster.”

“Woah, that’s really cool.”

“Indeed. It’s an idea my father often shared with me, although he didn’t get the chance to implement the changes. I was finally able to make the alterations myself.” There’s a little bit of nostalgia in his voice, and you wonder if you should feel bad for bringing up a potentially sensitive topic. “Perhaps I can let you try it on the retrieval run.” Boba continues. 

“Oh, no, no, no, maybe later, thank you. I don’t want to jeopardize the mission with my novice flying skills.”

“Is that so? You project the aura of a competent pilot.”

“Yes, but it’s been a while since I’ve sat behind the controls of a ship.”

Fett raises a hand to his chin, as if stroking a non-existent beard. “So you didn’t fly Mando’s ship?” It’s definitely a question, but it comes off more like a statement. 

“Well, I...I usually left that to Mando, I felt like it was almost a form of relaxation for him and I didn’t want to take that away.”

“Can I give you some advice?” 

That throws you off a little. 

“Sure.”

“A Mandalorian’s ship is a precious possession, not as important to them as beskar or their code, but still. A ship represents a Mandalorian’s freedom and individuality. If you were allowed to live within that ship for what I estimate to be several months, there was something else going on.”

It feels like someone lodged their fist into your chest and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. Surely he couldn’t mean...“What, what do you mean? Are you saying he was desperate for help no matter the cost?”

Fett wants to bang his head on the console, then bang it against your head to knock some sense into you. No wonder you and the Mandalorian get along so well, you’re both absolutely clueless. 

“Do you know that he carried you up the ramp of this ship last week when you were on death’s door, demanding medical attention from me?” Your eyes widen in response. “When we eventually realized you were losing too much blood, his first instinct was to infiltrate a medical station to obtain the necessary blood samples for a transfusion. Lucky for him, I had some sequencing instruments aboard, and we were able to identify your blood type. By some miracle, you and he happen to possess the same blood.” The atmosphere is becoming more tense by the second, and you can only sit there as Fett recounts the events surrounding your recent injuries. “He stayed by your side during the entire two day flight to Nevarro, refusing to eat or sleep. With the amount of time he spent providing blood to the transfusion system, I was sure he would pass out from blood loss before we arrived.” A choked sound leaves your throat. “The second we landed, he was on his feet, clutching onto your body as he carried you to the Marshal’s office.” 

He lets his words sink in for a moment as he pins you underneath his gaze once again. “I have fought countless battles, lost many comrades, and seen fellow warriors suffer horrible injuries. But I have never seen a man so stricken with grief and despair at the thought of losing a fellow comrade-in-arms. It’s obvious you mean much more to him than either of you realize.” 

He notices that you’re in shock after taking in all of that information, and he opens his mouth to say one last thing. “If you want to take a seat in the hold and let yourself process all of that, I’ll let you know when I receive the cue to take off.” 

The sentence is uttered with kindness, and you can only nod, thankful for his understanding. In a second you’re slipping down the ladder to the main hold of the ship. 

Kriff. 

Tears bite at the corners of your eyes as you suppress a sniffle with your forearm. That damned Mandalorian has been holding out on you. It all makes sense now. The affection you sensed earlier, the brief moments where you often notice his gaze linger for a millisecond too long. He cares about you. The thought has you releasing a muffled sob into your palms, why has he never told you? You would have welcomed his affection and returned it a thousand fold, if he had ever offered you the chance. 

A spike of fear races up your spine suddenly, and you tense in response. There is a familiar tickling sensation in the back of your mind, and you realize that Din is unintentionally projecting on you. After what happened earlier, you’re sure that you are the last person he wants to communicate with. His fear washes over you again, this time accompanied by panic, and you know that something has gone terribly wrong. Feelings be damned, you need to know what is going on down there. A firm nudge against his thought process grants your mind access to his, and the singular pulsing thought that envelops your brain gives you an immediate headache. 

“This is for the kid. The kid needs me, I can do this for him. I can do this for the kid.”

“Din, what’s going on?”

“You need to leave right now.”

“Din, what’s going on, let me help.”

There is no response. You’re so frustrated right now that you want to punch him, and you must be projecting because he allows you to see one more thought. 

You gasp in disbelief and shock. 

“Din...no. You can’t take your helmet off.”

“This is for the kid, Y/n. There is no other way.”

“Your creed, your way. What will you do after you take it off?”

“I...I don’t know. This is the only way I can save him.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I understand.” Then you pull yourself from his mind. 

Even faced with death, while you cried over his limp body, he had refused to remove his helmet. 

No, you don’t understand at all.

~~

By the time Mayfeld and Mando board the ship, you’re seated in the cockpit once again, desperately trying to keep a firm hold on your emotions. The ship rocks with the force of an explosion as Boba makes a hasty retreat. 

“We got company. Hang on.” He announces. 

The ship swerves to the side as he maneuvers away from the blasts of two tie fighters, and you watch in fascination as the scope on his helmet automatically drops into place in front of his visor. 

“These Imperial pilots can’t hit a damn thing.” He complains to you.

“Isn’t that a good thing for us?” You ask.

“I suppose. It isn’t much fun though.”

Wow. Maybe he and Din aren’t so different after all, or perhaps all Mandalorians are just crazy. 

“You wanted to learn about the controls, right? Flip that gold switch I’m pointing to.” He requests.

After grasping a hold of the pilot seat to keep yourself upright, you reach for the control panel and flip the switch. 

“Excellent, now take my helmet.” He removes it and holds it out to you. “Let me know when the two fighters are within 80 meters of each other.” 

You take the helmet eagerly, desperate for some type of combat action to block out your overwhelming emotions. The visor remains dark until the helmet thunks into place around your head, then it bursts into life. There are so many readings on the display that you are overwhelmed for a moment. 

“Look at the top right corner of the HUD, it’ll show you the close-range scans and a distance measurement for the two targets.”

“Got it. The display measures the distance at 100 meters.” 

“Alright, just wait a second. Standard flight path protocol will have them grouping up soon.”

Sure enough, the number plunges down to 90, then 85, then 82. Just a little bit closer…“Now!”

A light flashes somewhere on the HUD as a click filters through the helmet’s speakers. A glance at the top right corner of the display reveals a projectile moving towards the two tie fighters, and you grin at the resulting explosion. There is still a satisfied smile on your face when you hand the helmet back to Fett. 

“Nice shot. And thank you.” You hope that he understands your referring both to the advice he shared earlier, as well as his recent actions.

He nods. “Any time, vod.” 

“Vod?”

“It’s Mando’a, the closest term in Basic is ‘comrade’.” 

That spikes your interest and there is a burning question on the tip of your tongue, but you leave it for later.

“I’m gonna set the ship down, you might want to take a seat.” Fett breaks the silence. 

You scramble to follow his advice, and once the landing cycle is complete he rises from his chair. “Just a moment.” He elaborates, as he descends down the ladder. 

His absence leaves you with a quiet moment to reflect, and you hold your fisted hands out so you can list some facts and organize your frazzled thoughts. Ok, you tell yourself as you take a deep breath. 

One, Din cares about you. 

Two, you care about Din. 

Three, he cares for the child like a son. 

Four...what’s another fact? Dank farrik!

Four, you repeat as you rack your brain. Ah yes, Din’s Creed forbids him from revealing his face to another being.

Five, Din obviously knew he had no choice but to risk breaking his code. The choice was to either reveal his face, or abandon the child to a fate that could be worse than death. 

Six. Well, now that you think about it, you are being a little bit petty. You would also be willing to risk anything, if it was the only way to save the kid. Now that you’ve gone and said it, you feel a little ashamed. Poor Din doesn’t deserve to deal with the loss of his child and your foul mood at the same time. 

You decide to continue your list.

Seven, Boba Fett’s ship is cool as hell.

Eight, Din is kinda hot. Wait, what?! Hold on a second.

Eight, Din is...alright fine. He’s pretty hot. 

Nine, He does have very nice thighs.

Ten, He’s really attractive when he’s fighting.

Eleven, He’s...Wait, you only have ten fingers! 

You really need to get yourself under control, this is completely out of line. 

“Let’s hold tight up here for a moment, Mando’s putting on his kit.” 

You let out an undignified squeak, caught entirely by surprise. What you said earlier was becoming more and more true by the second, Mando and Boba weren’t so different after all. 

~~

Meanwhile in the small fresher, Mando is in the process of attaching his beskar chestplate when you start projectingly very loudly. A blush rises to his cheeks as you approach the end of your mental list. He has always hoped that you felt some semblance of affection towards him, but the thoughts you are currently entertaining are on a whole new level.

After the events in the refinery, he’s still a little shaken, but he feels he owes you an explanation for his recent behavior. Once the last piece of Beskar is attached to his figure, he prepares to ascend the ladder to the cockpit. But, when he approaches, he can distinctly make out your voice, as well as Fett’s.

“There are two words that I sometimes hear Mando use, and I think that they are from Mando’a. Would you mind translating them?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did once. He didn’t answer.”

“What are they?”

“‘Verd’ and ‘ika’.”

“Interesting.” He strokes at his chin again. “It’s actually one word, verd’ika.” (Little warrior)

“Oh. What does it mean?”

“It means…” 

Oh no, Din thinks. I need to break this up right now. 

“What’s the status on Cara and Fennec?” He blurts out. Affection and amusement fill him when he notices you jump slightly in your seat at his sudden appearance. 

“They should be approaching our position at any moment now.”

Din nods. He realizes he’s awkwardly lingering at the base of the ladder now, but he can’t let Fett share that translation with you. Not yet. Not until he is able to explain himself.

“Fett, could you provide me with the materials to replace the cooling core in my blaster? All my spare parts and tools were on my ship.” 

Boba stares him down. He knows exactly what Din is trying to do. Din sighs, he is far too fatigued, mentally and emotionally, to deal with this right now. He’s just about to give up when Fett gives him a sharp nod, plops his helmet over his head, and rises from his chair before descending into the hull. Din notices him shoot you an apologetic look, which you respond to with a tight-lipped smile. 

Now that at least one disaster has been avoided, Din turns to follow through with his made-up task. A voice crackles through the speakers in his helmet, and he startles when he recognizes Fett’s voice. He hasn’t heard a fellow Mandalorian’s voice transmit through his helmet’s audio channel since the destruction of the covert. 

“I know what you did back there.” Fett states.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I meant in the refinery.” Fett clarifies.

Din tenses in response and whirls around to face Fett again. How could he know?

“I was monitoring all Imperial communications from inside the refinery as a precaution, just in case there was a complication. The Imperial terminal in the base uploaded a facial scan that wasn’t registered to the computer’s database right after you two arrived.”

Din’s hands clench into fists, if Fett saw the scan…

“Don’t worry Mando, I never saw the image. But, I did have to perform a fair bit of technological jargon to approve the scan. And, I made sure the image was deleted from the Imperial database immediately after the files were downloaded.”

Din’s figure visibly relaxes, those were just two more favors he owed Fett. 

“You know, you owe your companion a lot of explanations. Or should I say, gar verd’ika.” (Your little warrior)

If Din didn’t feel so exhausted he would put up a bigger fight, but he can’t help the way he immediately gives in to Fett’s unspoken inquiry. 

“She is...important to me, I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Well you’re going to have to do better than that. Think about it, then come talk to me. We will figure it out, as brothers.”

Din nods his approval. 

“Are you two done staring into each other’s eyes? Because you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Mayfeld.

“Shut up Mayfeld.” Boba and Din huff in unison as they shoot him two identical helmeted glares.

Later, after Mayfeld is relieved from the crew, Boba and Din agree that they should fly to the nearest friendly planet so that they can restock their food stores and ammunition. While the ship is in hyperspace, Din takes a seat to prepare the message he plans to transmit to Moff Gideon. It only takes him a moment to agree on the wording. He decides to repeat the same lines that Moff Gideon arrogantly delivered on Nevarro several months ago, with a couple key differences. The message will serve as a warning, an omen of what is to come. 

The last line of the speech suddenly gives him an idea. Perhaps he knows what to say to you after all.

~~

Now that Mayfeld is gone, (you don’t even bother to ask why you are leaving him behind) you are free to sit down in the hold once again. But, after spending so much time in the cockpit, you find yourself wanting to stay. Boba Fett still sits in the pilot seat, wearing his helmet as he pilots the ship. Mando sits in the furthest corner of the hold, facing the clear viewport, as he and Cara discuss their next steps towards retrieving the child. You assume that Fennec is also down below, most likely passing the time by polishing her beloved rifle.

Fett breaks the comfortable silence that reigns over the cockpit. “As I recall, I promised you a chance to fly. Even though we’re in hyperspace right now, it’s good practice to just sit in front of the controls and familiarize yourself.” 

“Are you sure?” You’re secretly jumping up and down with excitement, but you don’t want to annoy Fett right as he’s offering you the opportunity to fly his ship.

“I’m quite certain.” He stands up, offering you the seat. 

You sit down immediately, running your fingers lovingly over the controls. It’s been a long time since you’ve been behind the console of a ship as unique as this one. After you’re done gawking, you look over to Fett, only to notice that he’s staring off into space. At least, you assume he’s staring off into space, you can’t really tell while he is wearing the helmet. He looks over to you after a second and removes his helmet, offering it to you for the second time that day. 

“Are you sure I need the helmet?” Please say yes.

“Go ahead, you might as well be familiar with all the aspects of the in-flight instruments.”

You offer him a beaming smile before settling the beskar over your head. “I’ll be right back.” You hear him say, along with the sounds of him descending the ladder. Odd, you think, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.

~~

 As Din discusses his plan with Cara, he hears Fett’s voice crackle through the speaker in his helmet. “You ready to have that discussion? Your companion just announced she’s heading to the fresher, so we have time for a brief chat in the cockpit.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Din responds.

Din continues his conversation with Cara, and when he notices a blur make its way down the ladder from the cockpit, he politely excuses himself. 

He makes his way towards the ladder, the echo of his feet meeting the rungs causing nerves to bubble to life in his chest. One foot meets the durasteel flooring of the cockpit, then the other follows. He stands there awkwardly for a second, the back of the pilot chair and Fett’s helmet in clear view, then abruptly spills his thoughts.

“I know what to say.” He clears his throat as his voice cracks a little. 

~~ 

Fennec stands from her seat, affectionately patting her rifle as she props it against the side of the chair. As she passes by the supply closet on her way to the refresher, she notices Fett warily peering out from the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

Boba Fett, the famed Boba Fett, actually jumps at her words, hushing her as he continues to peer in the direction of the cockpit. She wrinkles her brow in confusion and glances towards the cockpit as well, wondering what exactly she should be watching for. 

~~

A few moments later, Cara notices that there is not a soul in sight, and she rises to her feet, determined to figure out where everyone has disappeared to. A quick sweep of the hull doesn’t reveal a sign of Mando or Fennec, so she decides to check the hallway on the other side of the hold. As she rounds the corner she notices both Fennec and Fett peering out of the doorway of what appears to be a supply closet.

Her eyes narrow as she stares them down. “What---”

Both Fennec and Fett shush her immediately, their gaze fixed upon the cockpit. Thoroughly bewildered, she too looks towards the cockpit, worried that something has gone awry. 

~~

Meanwhile, you are sitting in the cockpit, trying to scrape your jaw off of the floor as you examine each of the control panels. This really is one unique ship. Just as you are taking a closer look at the targeting instruments, a voice breaks through your thoughts.

“I know what to say to her now, Fett. I will tell her that she means everything to me, that she means more to me than I can ever put into words.” 

You are completely dumbfounded. Does Mando know who he just said that to? 

Fett...that sneaky little bastard...he set you two up, didn’t he. 

Well, you are not one to look a gift taun-taun in the mouth, so you take off the helmet, stand up, turn around, and level your gaze with Mando’s. 

“The feeling’s mutual, vod.” (Comrade)

He panics, because one second he’s standing in the cockpit, and the next he’s disappeared from sight. The clang of beskar meeting durasteel, along with a grunt of pain, echoes through the hold as you drop the helmet and scramble into motion. 

You rush to the top of the ladder, staring down at Din’s splayed out form in shock. A snicker breaks the silence and your gaze flies to the hallway where your other three companions are smothering laughter into the palms of their hands. You can’t help yourself, the ridiculous sight has you falling into a fit of giggles as well. 

“This is not funny!” Din’s voice echoes through your head.

The abruptness of his statement startles you, and one second you’re standing on firm durasteel, the next you’re falling through the air as you too plummet towards the flooring at the base of the ladder. Except you don’t hit the floor. You hit two warm arms that absorb most of your fall, then a beskar-clad chest. 

A pained grunt escapes Din’s helmet. 

“You’re heavy.”

“Yeah? Well you are busted, Mando.”

“Busted?” It sounds like he is still straining for breath.

“Busted.”

More laughter peals through the recycled air of the hold, and you and Din turn simultaneously to fix all three of your crewmates with a glare. 

“You see what you’ve done.” 

“It’s not my fault you're clumsy, Din.”

“Clumsy? You’re the one who fell on top of me!”

“You shouldn’t scare me all the time!”

“Are you two gonna get up, or are you just gonna lay there on the floor?”

“Cara!” You exclaim, your cheeks bursting into flames. 

“I can’t wait till this mission is over, you all need some serious help.” Fennec grumbles, but she’s hiding a grin as she stomps to her chair, retrieves her rifle-just a precaution, she mumbles-then enters the fresher. 

As for Fett, he has a shit-eating grin on his face, and you can’t help but notice that he looks like a proud father.

“Well, Mando, I think we solved your problem.” His grin falters a little. “Or, at least, one of your problems.”

Fett shoots you a wink as he steps over your prone form and ascends the ladder. “Good luck with that one, you’re gonna need it.”

Cara also walks past your sprawled out bodies, taking a seat as she pointedly looks away from you and out the viewport. 

You look down at Mando, a soft smile overcoming your features when you notice he’s been staring at you. One of the hands that was used to brace your fall is now settled on the small of your back and it holds you firmly to his chest. The other hovers in the air beside your left ear, hesitating, and you give it a glance out of the corner of your eye. You so desperately want him to touch you with that hand, just like you’ve always imagined. So you give him a little nudge. 

“Could you brush that piece of hair out of my eye for me?” It’s practically a whisper as you refrain from shattering this tender moment.

A shaky exhale rattles from beneath his helmet, and then his hand moves slowly to fulfill your request. Seconds drag by like hours...and then his touch finally greets your skin. With a tenderness that is so shocking it hurts (has he thought about this too?) the tips of four fingers meet your forehead, sliding down your temple oh so slowly until they glide through your hair, finally curling around the shell of your ear as any stray strands are tucked away. 

You shut your eyes for a moment, every nerve ending fizzling out in complete bliss as you bask in the warmth of his touch. Neither of you move for a long while, and you would think he’d fallen asleep if not for the incessant chatter that hums through your mind. 

“You’re smiling.” His voice surfaces through the haze of thoughts. 

“I know. I can feel you, your voice, your thoughts...I thought you shut me out.” 

“Never.”

You open your eyes and he is still in the same position as before. His hand curled behind your left ear, his visor staring up into your face, and the hand on your back still radiating the same warmth. After another shaky breath, he drags his hand down the side of your face, curls it around the back of your neck, then slides it upward over the base of your skull. Each movement is drawn out, as if he’s moving in slow motion. You both know that he’s only trying to prolong this moment, along with each gesture, for as long as he possibly can.  

It’s your turn to sigh when he bends your head down, closing the distance between your faces so that your forehead rests against the top of his helmet. Your palms, that had previously been supporting your weight, abandon the floor to splay themselves over Din’s beskar chestplate instead. The closeness is suffocating in the most beautiful way, and you’re sure that if he wasn’t wearing a helmet you would be begging for a kiss by now. 

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

His voice has you blushing, but you can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

“I can’t help it. You’re just too damn hot to handle.” It’s meant to tease him, but the response you receive is the complete opposite of what you expect.

“Yeah, especially when I’m fighting, am I right?”

There is a dramatic pause while your brain stalls to a grinding halt. “Were you listening earlier, Din? Why the nerve--”

He backpedals immediately, trying to reconcile his previous statement before you decide to jump up and clock him in the head. “Do you know that we’ve been kissing this whole time.”

Huh? Kissing? Your lips haven’t even touched! He must have hit his head harder than you thought. 

“Are you coherent right now?”

He chuckles fondly, the sound echoing through your mind, and you’re sure it's the most beautiful sound you have ever heard. “This gesture, our foreheads touching...it’s called a keldabe kiss. Since my people do not remove their helmets, that is how we show affection to our loved ones.”

“Oh.” You can feel his nerves pulsing through your mind. “It’s perfect.” A searing warmth blossoms throughout your whole body, and you know it is the result of his happiness. “Will you tell me--”

Fennec emerges from the fresher and shocks you two out of your stupor. “Are you two going to stop gazing into each other’s eyes and take a seat?” 

Fennec and Cara both share a chuckle at the way you and Din jump at the sudden intrusion. You are too immersed in your lovey-dovey emotions to even glare at them so you just huff in response. A glance towards Din’s helmet doesn’t reveal much about his current thought process, so you rely on your bond and just let yourself feel. 

The emotions he possesses are so powerful they are blinding, so you guide yourself to his loudest most current thoughts.

“...how’d I get so lucky? I wonder if she will let me kiss her again.”

You just shake your head fondly. “Come on Romeo, let’s go sit down.” You offer a hand once you are standing, and he grumbles, eventually taking it even though you both know he requires zero assistance to lift himself from the floor. He doesn’t release you though, even when he reaches his seat and settles into the chair. Just as you’re about to turn and return to your own seat, he tugs on that hand and sends you barreling into his lap. A wide-eyed look of shock is the only expression you can manage as you fumble to keep yourself on his lap without tumbling to the floor. 

And now he’s laughing into your bond again...great.

“Stop laughing and help me, you buffoon!”

Din quells his chuckling and finally moves to help you right your figure. His hands attempt to settle you into his embrace, but he can’t help but notice that you still seem uncomfortable. He looks to Cara for help, only to realize that her gaze is still directed out the viewport. Instead, he looks to Fennec, and the gaze that she eventually gives him screams you’ve got to be kidding me. He glares at her from beneath the helmet, raising a hand in desperation as he gestures towards you. Fennec glares back, and then mimics the pose of a droid, with her arms out, legs limp, and an impassive gaze on her face. Then she gestures back towards him. He gets the hint immediately, blushing red beneath the helmet, and nods his thanks. She just waves him off and continues to polish her rifle. 

For the first time in his adult life, the Mandalorian slouches in his seat. His spine rounds as he curls himself around your form, providing a protective shell around your body. Both hands guide you into a sideways position, similar to a wedding carry-he blushes even harder at that realization-and then he tucks your head into the crook between his helmet and chestplate, where his cloak will cushion your head. You give him a sleepy smile and snuggle closer to his armored chest, looping an arm around his neck as you get comfortable. 

“So will you tell me what it means?” You attempt again.

“What does what mean?”

“Verd’ika.”

“It means ‘little warrior’.”

The smile that overtakes your face is almost blinding. You fall asleep with the echo of that thought in your head, and wake up to the gentle snores of a certain Mandalorian. There’s an incessant needling in the back of your sleep-addled brain. There’s no way Din would have fallen asleep with the rest of the crew watching. You blink your eyes open, and panic a little bit when you realize that hold is quite a bit darker than earlier. There are a couple blinking lights from the cockpit that shed some light on the room. And after a second, you scan the area only to realize that there is no one else in sight. 

Abruptly, your back twitches in pain and you realize that Mando’s vambrace is digging into your back. You shift slightly, trying to adjust your position without leaving your warm perch. Din mumbles in his sleep, shifting a little bit at your movements, and it causes the hand you slung behind his neck earlier to thwack him rather violently in the back of the head. He shoots to a standing position immediately, and you squeak, clutching onto him like a koala as he nearly sends you hurtling towards the ground. 

His blaster is drawn in a second, and your sluggish mind struggles to connect with him through your bond in order to calm his frantic motions. He must break out of his trance before you are able to form a connection, because he suddenly settles back down into the chair with a tired exhale. 

“Sorry, you startled me.” He apologizes.

“It’s ok.” 

He adjusts you into a more comfortable position, fussing as he tucks you back into his chest. You just hum against his neck, basking in the warmth that he produces. Surprisingly, the beskar itself is also warm, and you note that it must maintain the same temperature as his body. 

“We landed a little while ago. The others left to enjoy a night on the town, they won’t be back for several hours.” 

“Mmm.” 

“Are you even awake?” 

“Yes.” You respond as you peel an eye open. The adorable way Din is tilting his helmet to look at your face sends a wave of affection blossoming through your chest. But, as cute as he looks right now, you really want to be asleep.

“Since we have a moment, I want to talk about what happened today.”

That has your attention, and you’re fully awake in seconds. 

“I know that we disagreed on a couple things today. And, we have both made implications about our feelings, but I want to lay everything out on the table so it is one hundred percent clear.”

You nod in agreement. 

“You and the child will always be the first priority to me. No matter what. Mandalorians value their clan, their family, above all else. You and the kid are my family.” He cuts himself off, voice cracking a little as he tries to continue.

You rush to fill the silence, eager to reassure him of your own feelings. “You and the kid are my family too Din, and I would not have it any other way. I know that you didn’t give me the mission earlier because you were worried about me. And, I know that you had to remove your helmet because there was no other way to locate the little one. I am sorry I didn’t support your decisions. I was bitter and hurt, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

A sound, like that of a choked sob, escapes Din and your heart squeezes in pain. Before you can finish, he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about how you would feel.”

“No! Don’t apologize, I am the one apologizing to you.”

You are both laughing through your tears, and you clutch at his hands with both of yours. 

“I love you Din, I love you so much, and I will always support any decision you make.”

“Ner verd’ika, ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. (My little warrior, I love you) You hold my heart in your hands.”

At that admission, you feel a burning desire to kiss him, but you settle for resting your forehead against his helmet instead.

“I seem to recall that you promised to ‘kick my ass’ once we landed.”

“Stop it, you’re ruining the moment.” You rebuke him as you shove half-heartedly at his chest.

“I think you’re wimping out, ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) You don’t think you can beat me anymore?”

How dare he tease you. The nerve of this man.

“No, I’ll still kick your ass anyways. I hope you won’t be too embarrassed when I school you in front of everyone else tomorrow.” A smug smirk stretches across your face as you finish speaking.

“You’re quite feisty, my dear.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

He grumbles beneath the helmet, neither denying nor acknowledging your statement. 

“I never realized you had such a dirty mouth.” The words are directed through your bond, and you can’t help but notice that the tone is a little suggestive. His words have your face erupting into flames.

Your Mandalorian has some real nerve.

~~

Ending Notes: I am actually really happy with how this turned out. Multi-chapter stories are a little intimidating and I admire all of you writers that can juggle several multi-chapter stories at once. I hope that this did the whole un-masking/face reveal thing justice while still staying as true to Din’s character as possible. ALSO, if I messed up any of the Mandalorian culture/lore stuff, please let me know. 

~~

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 2: Hurt/Comfort (SFW)

here’s my take on @dincobbweek day 2′s prompt Hurt/Comfort

in which Din gets severely injured after the fight with Gideon and is taken to Tatooine to recover

AO3 Link

Tend to Me

“Mando?”

Din blinked at where the Jedi had been just a moment earlier, carrying Grogu away as it should be.

“Mando.”

He blinked again and turned to look at the others. Cara was speaking to him, turned towards him. And he could see Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls and Fennec Shand and . . .

There was something wet trickling down his side that he was aware of all for handful of seconds before the floor was coming up to greet him.

His head felt light, but there was a distant pounding, and he didn’t feel all that here in the present moment.

He blinked and saw Cara above him. He blinked again and thought he heard the stern voice of Bo-Katan against Gideon’s steady timbre.

Someone was pulling at his cuirass, and he tried to sit up against it. They had already seen his face. They all had. The Nite Owls. Cara. Fennec.

Gideon.

He couldn’t let more of that be taken from him.

“Easy, vod.”

The sound of Mando’a settled him, and he lay back down when he saw a familiar helmet above him, partially blocking out a fluorescent light above him, giving the person an almost halo like appearance.

“Vanth,” he muttered.

“No, Din,” a gravelly voice said. “It’s not.”

Still, his eyes rolled back and he knew nothing more until later.

Whenever later would be.

He opened his eyes and found himself on his back. There was something around his torso, but his skin felt cool. Too cool. He looked and found himself bare to the waste. There was thick gauze and bandages wrapped around his torso, and at some point he’d been given an intravenous. The area around him seemed familiar.

“You’re on the Slave.” Fennec appeared above him.

Din parted his lips. She could still see him, and he felt panicked at the idea of it. “What’s—”

“Fett plans on taking you to Tatooine,” she said in that same matter-of-fact tone she always had. “You were injured in the fight. Either with Gideon or with the darktroopers, but the damage is extensive.”

Din blinked. “Why not heal me here?”

“We didn’t think you’d want to be here. Not with Bo-Katan breathing down your neck.”

The sound of heavy footsteps came upon them, and Din looked up to see Fett himself, still armour, unlike Din.

“Are we clear?” Fennec asked.

“Marshal Dune plans on watching Gideon until the New Republic arrives. And Bo-Katan has stepped back. For now.” He titled his head in Din’s direction. “She’ll want to know when you’re back on your feet, but I told her you don’t do well with droids, so healing will be a slow process.”

Din looked back up at the ceiling above him. “I’m a disgrace.”

“No, you’re not. Well. Tatooine’s not going to wait for us forever.”

As much as Din knew of Boba already, he knew even less of the man’s current aspirations. Apparently, that included overthrowing the last remnants of the Hutt presence on the planet and installing a new crime syndicate. His own.

Fortunately, for Din, he was asleep and in too much pain to worry about how this was all going to go down, and by the time he was awake, he was being lifted into a bed, and that movement alone stole the breath from his lungs. There was a sharp current of pain lancing up the right side of his rib cage and into his right shoulder. It pricked at his hip and down, and he gritted his teeth, breathing out harshly through his nose as he was settled.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He heard Fett around him, somewhere to his right. “It wasn’t going to be an easy move. Here. Got a hypospray for that.” Din tilted his neck back enough to let Fett inject him. He could feel the rush of the hypospray along the side of his neck and slowly—slowly—he felt it go to work in the worst parts of his body until he could finally relax against the bed.

Din closed his eyes and breathed out deeply before he looked to Boba. “Bringing me here was your idea?”

“Well.” Boba had his helmet off now, but the rest of his armour was still in place. He looked to the side and found a sturdy chair against the wall that he dragged up to the side of the bed. “I can’t imagine it would’ve been nice to patch up you with whatever stores of bacta they had on that ship and send you right back out there.”

“Would’ve been better.”

“To what? Handle the Princess and her self-righteous cause? Finish off Gideon and the rest of those Imps? Din, you’ve been going at it for weeks now. And I’m speaking from experience here, but when you’re down, stay down. Don’t try to get back up if it’s only going to make things worse.”

Din frowned. “The darksaber—”

“It’s here.”

“No, not that. She’ll want to discuss with me what that means. You should’ve—”

“I wasn’t going to leave you with her. Din, do you even remember what happened during the fight with Gideon? Stars, any of it?”

If Din were to be truthful, he would say he didn’t remember most of it. Certainly not now. He remembers being physical assaulted by one of the darktroopers. How it clutched his head and smashed against the metal panels of the ship over and over again. His helmet being the only thing protecting him from being seriously injured.

But he had been injured, hadn’t he? Otherwise, why would he be here?

But then later, after he had finally dispatched the darktrooper, Gideon emerged with the darksaber. He remembered parts of the fight between the beskar spear and the saber itself. Gideon had been an accomplished fighter with it and then—

“I’m not . . . sure.”

“Well,” Boba said. “Best we could figure, one of the darktroopers hurt you pretty bad. Lacerations on your neck from when one of ‘em grabbed you. At some point you were struck or you collided with something and fractured your arm up here.” He tapped a point high up on his own arm, up near the shoulder. “You’re shoulder blade didn’t fare much better. And then when you faced down with Gideon.” He chuckled. “What I would’ve given to see that fight. But he must’ve swiped you. Gotten the upper hand because he scored you along here.” He marked a long cut along his rib cage, right where the padding of his armour would’ve ended, leaving him open to Gideon’s attack. “It’s long, but not terribly deep. You got lucky.”

“Yeah, because this is what’s lucky. Lucky I didn’t get blown up in my ship. Lucky I lost the kid. Lucky I got to see him get taken by the Jedi—”

“Easy, vod.”

Din breathed in deeply.

“Feel better?”

“No.”

“Figured as much. I’ll be looking into getting you doctor. Someone local. Medical supplies of high grade are rare on this planet so it’ll be a slow recovery, but I think you could use the time off. And I doubt you want a medical droid.”

“Preferably not.”

“Right. Slow recovery it is.” Boba then stood and reached down to pat his good shoulder. “Rest up. Fennec and I will be in and out, but for now, sleep. You need it.”

He turned then and left, leaving Din to his quiet contemplation.

Even after the hypospray, he could still feel the throbbing effects of pain as it lanced up and down his side with each beat of his heart.

It was only luck that he did fall asleep from the sheer exhaustion coursing through his body.

He was left with a broken arm, a broken body, and a broken Creed. He wasn’t sure how much Boba knew of Mandalorian customs—especially Din’s customs which weren’t universal. He was still coming to terms with that.

But as it was, Din had no idea to the current state of his tribe. He knew many of them had been slain with the fallout of their exposure in the city of Nevarro. The survivors had been scattered. Or they could all be dead and Din would be the last of the Watch.

The only one who cared about a broken Creed was him, and even now he didn’t know what that meant.

What did it mean to be broken?

He shared none of these thoughts with Boba and Fennec whenever they came to visit, neither did he say anything to Boba’s hired doctor when they came to check him over and change his dressings.

He was silent through it all and needed to be prodded to get out of bed so he wouldn’t develop bed sores. He was a ghost of his former self and he could see it in Boba and Fennec’s eyes. They didn’t know what to do with him, so he guessed that’s why they contacted him.

There was a knock on the door to his room.

“Come in.” Din pushed himself to sit up against the bed with some effort and felt something pull in his side and he set his free hand upon it to try and soothe the throbbing. Then he saw Cobb Vanth enter the room.

His immediate instinct was to try and pull his helmet on, maintain some dignity, but he caught sought of his beskar’gam—helmet and all—across the room.

Besides, Fett’s doctor had already seen him without his armour. Why should he get so worried that Cobb was here?

“Fennec told me where to come find you,” the Marshal said, coming to sit slowly in the chair next to Din’s bed. “Gotta admit, this place is a whole lot bigger on the inside.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Din said, keeping his gaze to the bedspread despite how much he wanted to see Cobb’s face with unfiltered eyes for the first time. But he couldn’t get himself to do it. He didn’t think he deserved it. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, two reasons, I s’pose.” Cobb’s drawl felt like a balm. “First being business related. With Fett bein’ the new crime lord n’ all I suppose it’s only good that we negotiate a bit. See what he can offer Mos Pelgo and what he’s askin’ for in return. Pretty agreeable guy, I have to admit. Second reason . . . they asked me to see you.”

Din slowly looked over at Cobb. He looked the same as before, much more narrow now that he didn’t have Boba’s armour to cover his frame. But he looked good. He was wearing dark green today and not his usual red, but the colour still looked good on him.

And then up to his face. The cut of his beard. It was neater now than what Din remembered. He must’ve had more time to shave up a bit without the threat of krayt dragons and tuskens weighing him down. And that silver hair was still slicked back over his head, leaving bare a pair of hazel eyes.

They were hazel. And Din could see all the colours there.

“Looks like you’ve been through it,” Cobb said. “How you holding up?”

“How much do you know?”

“Bits and pieces mostly. Shand and Fett wouldn’t share much, and really it’s up to you if you want to share.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

He remembered the nights he spent with Cobb when he had first arrived to Mos Pelgo. During the long stretches of travel between the town, the Tuskens, and the krayt dragon. After enough time, he had begun to speak more companionably with Cobb and shared stories of his own. But even now, he had so much to tell Cobb, to have him understand, because he felt Cobb could understand.

Besides, who knew more about loss than Cobb himself? The slave, the rebel, and the leader?

He was quiet through it all, only asking for clarification. And when it was all done, Din sat there with his head tipped back against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling to ignore the way tears pricked his eyes.

Cobb whistled lowly. “Seems a lot. But I am glad that Fett brought you here. Seems like you needed me.”

Din looked down to him and saw a teasing smirk on Cobb’s lips. “And what exactly would I need a Tatooine Marshal for? Are you even licensed?”

“Appointed. But that ain’t the point. The point is, I’m here for you.”

He felt Cobb’s hand on his leg there, just above his knee and the man squeezed, prompting Din to look at him.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen after this,” Din said, hardly above a whisper because how could he admit to the fact that his life was falling apart? That he didn’t know who he was anymore. He wasn’t the Mandalorian that walked into Mos Pelgo to kill a dragon. Not anymore.

“We’ve all been there,” Cobb said, squeezing and keeping a steady gaze on Din throughout it. “And you know I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay. You can sleep. I’ll be here, waitin’.”

With great effort, Din slowly lay back down on the bed and he lamented the fact that he couldn’t reach with his left hand to hold Cobb’s, to hold him there and know he wasn’t going to leave.

But Cobb was there all the same, and for now that would be enough.

[generalfoolish]

Aay'han

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: lots of bad space language, talk of Bo-Katan and Death Watch, mentions of lost family, Soft!Luke (needs a tag), maybe some lusting over Luke? He's handsome, y'all, mad!Mando, some Grogu because I can't help myself, some nightmare talk/horror type themes-blink and you'll miss it though

Word count: ~2.4K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians on the road to Dagobah, in search of a Jedi.

A/N: Hey babes! This is number six of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. This one is soooo self-indulgent, but it's pretty exposition heavy. Our sweet mandalorian doesn't know Mando's story like we do, so bear with me! Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Cyare'se | Partaylir

Mando is silent as he toggles the destination into nav, and remains silent long after the jump into hyperspace. You don’t know what to do. The cockpit isn’t cramped, but you feel like your thoughts are too loud. You wonder if he can hear you thinking.

If he could hear you, he’d know that you were second guessing this whole quest. You had once been spurred on by hate and loss and grief, but in the starkness of this new ship you think you may have run head-long into something you couldn’t control.

You wonder, not for the first time since meeting Mando, if your resolve is weakening or if you’re simply intrigued by this mandalorian.

As if he could read your thoughts, Mando turned to face you.

“I’m not sure that Skywalker will be much help. I have hope, but I need you to know that it may not be productive.” He sounded so earnest, that all you could do was raise your shoulders in a pitiful shrug.

“Where is Skywalker?” You asked quietly.

“Dagobah. It’s a swamp planet.”

“I’m not sure I know it.” You thought back to the last time you mapped the galaxy. It had been a long time.

“You wouldn’t. It’s almost Wild Space. Further south than Naboo.” You nodded, then considered it.

“That’s across the galaxy?”

“Yeah, but he’s the only one who would know anything. Except for Bo-Katan, but we both have reasons to avoid her.” He added, wistfully.

“You do?” You asked, and Mando shook his head.

“Yeah, but it’s a long story.” You shrugged, it didn’t really matter. As long as you were on the same page when it came to clan Kryze. You sat back in the seat, and Mando turned back around. You wondered about his motives. He had mentioned having a son, one that could still be hunted by the Empire. But, he was alone. And there was no covert on Nevarro. If he was staying away from Bo-Katan, then the son wasn’t likely near Mandalore. You narrowed your eyes as you worked through it.

You didn’t have children, not your own. Your Tribe had been very closely knit, and you had loved and looked over the children. They were why you had thrown yourself into this plot. You would never leave them behind, though. If you had them in your arms, would your hate dissipate as well? He mentioned loved ones, and you wondered again about his entanglements. Was there a Tribe? More hidden? His son had been hunted, was his Tribe destroyed along with the covert?

You wouldn't speculate anymore.

“Mando, where’s your ad?” He stiffened visibly. You worried you had crossed a line, one that you couldn’t easily retreat from.

“Why?” His voice was terse, and his shoulders remained tense.

“If he’s alive, you should be with him? This is a suicide mission, you said so yourself. Why would you agree if you had a son who was waiting for you?” You prodded. It felt important to know. You needed to know what kind of man he was, that’s what you told yourself, anyway.

You needle people, that inner voice told you. You needle and push until they’re gone.

Minutes passed before you heard Mando sigh, long enough that you had started to regret ever getting on the ship.

“He’s in training. He’s a foundling.” You nodded, but didn’t fully understand. Training for what? Combat? Guns? A bounty hunting mandalorian should be able to handle that.

“Training?” You asked, no longer able to keep your question at bay. He exhaled loudly, and turned to face you, the tension released from his shoulders.

“He is with Skywalker. They’re Jedi.” He told you plainly. As if that explained anything.

“Jedi?” You scrambled trying to remember if your buir had ever mentioned Jedi in your lessons. You recalled their weapon, the jetii’kad, a laser sword, you thought.

“They use the Force.” He told you, confusion laced in his words. “I...I’ve seen it. They use their powers and laser swords to fight. I have seen things I can’t explain.” You listened intently. You had only heard the stories, the reason Mandalore needed a Mand’alor, and the reason mandalorians wore beskar. But even in your wildest machinations they weren’t true, just stories for the children to cling to. Something to believe in, when everything else seemed helpless.

“The jetii are real? You said “they,” are they more than one?”

“Mm. Two, well three if you count the kid.” You closed your eyes under the helmet, and wished you could rub your face. It didn’t seem real. You turned your attention to the streaking colors of hyperspace. It wasn’t impossible that Jedi would be real. The dark saber was real, you had heard the chatter. A mysterious mandalorian, one without ties, wielded it now.

Your eyes snapped back to Mando. A mysterious mandalorian, one without ties.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. This guy wasn’t the Mand’alor.

Why else would he be running from Bo-Katan?

He’s connected to the Jedi.

The Mand’alor a Child of the Watch from a backwater like Nevarro?

It would be impossible...right?

You snapped your eyes back to Mando. He had busied himself with the control panel, seemingly lost in thought.

“Mando?” He turned toward you slowly, his body language a question.

“Why are you hiding from Bo-Katan? I don’t care if it’s a long story.” He sighed at your request. He didn’t answer, he simply stood and left the cockpit. You sat up straight, fear creeping up your spine. You had pushed too far.

He returned after a moment, though it didn’t seem as though he had grabbed anything. Confusion replaced your fear, and you leaned forward on your knees.

“I kind of made a promise to her that I never intended to keep. She knows my face, and I have something she wants. I just need to keep space between us.” You narrowed your eyes again, his story sounding like bantha shit.

“Okay, Mando. We’ll stay off her radar.” You told him, but that dark voice crept up from your stomach and filled your throat with bile. Something was wrong. He was lying.

~

“Well, this is Dagobah. Nowhere to land. At least an X Wing will be easy to spot.” Mando muttered from the pilot chair. You said nothing. In fact, you had more or less kept silent for the few days it took to travel. Mando seemed to operate quietly usually, so it didn’t bother him. Or if it had, he hadn’t voiced it. You had been keeping in the hold, for the most part, as well. Keeping distance seemed the proper course for now. Until you could parce out why he had lied about Bo-Katan. A growing part of you was terrified you’d awaken to him standing over you, wielding that damn dark saber. Your thoughts ping ponged from the saber to Bo-Katan, and when you could finally put them out of mind, you were assaulted with the new information about the Jedi.

You were having trouble processing. And you had kept your crikking helmet on for far too long.

At last, you had seen the planet looming in the darkness of space, massive and green. You’d have answers soon. You had a mental inquiry for this Skywalker, ranging from Mandalore to the New Republic. The Empire side-lined for a moment, was queued up after your current thoughts were sorted. It was too much.

Mando piloted the ship easily down into the muggy swamp. You wrinkled your nose, and were actually thankful for your helmet. It would filter out the worst of the smell. Mando had set the ship down on the, seemingly, only piece of dry land. It housed another ship, the X wing, you presumed.

He motioned for you to follow, and you complied. Not speaking for almost a week had it’s advantages, the two of you had become masters of nonverbal signals. You looked around outside of the ship. Skughole, that was your only thought. Crikking skughole. Not even a port. Mando walked forward, and you followed behind.

You heard the man before you saw him. He was cursing a blue streak through the muggy air. He wasn’t what you expected. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but the lean, human male wasn’t it. He was dressed in tan, loose fitting clothes, and was covered in the bluish mud. His brown hair hung messily in his face, which was plastered with sweat.

You tore your eyes away from the only Jedi you had ever seen, and gaped at what you saw. A massive boulder was levitating in front of him. It was just floating there, in the open space. You turned quickly to Mando, and he nodded once at you. It felt like a confirmation that you weren’t insane. That what was happening was real.

Not that you had time to dwell on it. Before you could blink, the rock imploded. Tons of small rocks fell to the mud, and the man exhaled loudly.

“Mandalorian. I’ve been expecting you.” The Jedi panted, before walking over.

“Grogu?” Mando asked. You blinked in confusion. It wasn’t Mando’a. Or any other language you knew.

“He’s napping. We’ve been training hard. Searching for more of his kind. My Master was one of his species, and I believe there to be more here. This planet…” He trailed off before turning to face you. “Apologies, I am Luke Skywalker, a Jedi Master. The Jedi Master, I guess? There’s not many of us left. Not to worry,” he added, leveling a kind look at you, “You travel with a kind man.” Mando snapped his head down at you, but you were as confused as him.

“Can Jedi read minds?” Luke laughed and wiped his forehead off.

“No. I can sense that you are nervous though.”

“With the Force?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You had never had to filter emotions more than through your voice. The beskar hid everything else. You felt Mando’s eyes on you, burning through what was left of your shield.

“Kind of. Let’s get some food, yeah? Grogu needs to eat, and I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you, Mando.” You followed Luke, but you could feel Mando’s eyes on you the short walk to the hut. Luke dipped into the small hole, and disappeared inside.

“You don’t trust me?” Mando asked, gruffly, as soon as Luke was out of earshot.

“No. You lied to me.” You leveled. He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.

“You lied to me!” Exasperated, you yanked your helmet off.

Of course, you regretted that immediately. The smell of the swamp nearly gagged you. You hadn’t gotten acclimated to it at all, and it hit you full on. Mando took a neat step backward, hands mid air, helmet looking down. Luke was walking out with bowls, and peeking around his leg was a long green ear.

Your eyebrows pulled together, and you opened your mouth to say something--anything. But Luke beat you to it.

“Oh criff.”

~~

You sat with Luke, helmet beside you on the log, and faced the fire. Mando had taken a walk with Grogu.

“What makes you so apprehensive to the warrior?” Luke asked, slurping stew from the bowl. You looked at him, aglow from the flames, and sucked your teeth. You didn’t know their relationship, but you couldn’t hide it from the Jedi.

“I think he has the dark saber.” Luke nodded.

“Would this be an issue?” You considered it for a moment.

“I don’t know. I keep having nightmares. He...strikes me down with it.” Luke drained his bowl, and sat it aside.

“Why would he do that?” Luke asked, full attention on you.

“That’s what I’m nervous about. He doesn’t have a reason. Unless, he thinks I’m a threat to him. Luke, do you know the story?” He shook his head, and you thought about it. “My buir, sorry my Mom, taught me many lessons of the mandalorians. My father was lost during one of the many civil wars. I saw the destruction and horror first hand, as I’m sure Mando did. The difference though, is that his people were the ones that murdered mine. It’s hard to separate the man from the myth.” Luke nodded thoughtfully.

“I am afraid I know little of Mandalorian lore, but I have seen my share of pain and betrayal. We cannot always know what path is right, but we can trust in the Force to lead us there. What does your gut tell you about Mando?” You sat silently, staring deep into the flames before you. You had been turning it over since Nevarro.

“He’s safe.” You told the Jedi, so quietly it was almost lost to the crackling fire. But the man beside you nodded, and patted your knee. You looked down and saw that his hand was mechanical. You snapped your eyes up to his face, and his eyes twinkled at you. You heard a twig snap and your eyes shot to the source, fingers wrapping around your blaster.

You saw Mando’s beskar reflecting in the low light, and the curl of his arm, before you heard the child’s babbling.

Mando was a mystery, but Grogu had stolen your heart immediately. He had been in Mando’s arms, cooing, since he woke up. Mando, for his part, had nodded and participated in the very one sided conversation.

You offered Mando a small smile when he approached, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“It is a bittersweet reunion for him.” Luke told you quietly, when Mando dipped into the hut.

“Why?” You asked, watching the hut closely.

“He knows he must leave him. Grogu’s training takes precedence, but their bond is strong.”

“Ah, we have a word for this: aay’han. It is both mourning and joy at once.”

“Aay’han,” Luke echoed the Mando’a back perfectly, and you thought it sounded lovely. “Such a beautiful word, the meaning is interesting. I would like to know more of your culture, someday. First, I am seeking my own.” You smiled at Luke as he stretched beside you. It had been days since you had truly spoken.

You hated this swamp planet, but you were growing fond of its inhabitants. Aay’han, indeed.

**Translations

Aay’han: bittersweet

Ad: son

Buir: parent

Mand’alor: Ruler of Mandalore

Jetii: Jedi

Jetii’kad: lightsaber

[magicmanias]

Restless

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: The kid won't sleep.

Warnings: Idiots to Lovers, Fluff, Mando doesn’t get emotions, the kid is a brat (but still cute)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This could have a part 2… Maybe. 

39 hours. 

That’s how long you went without sleep. Mando left two days ago to run after some sort of bounty—a Rodian or something—and since then, the kid would not give you a break. Usually, he would take naps periodically throughout the day and your sleep schedule followed, but for the past 39 hours, 15 minutes, and 27 seconds the kid didn’t sleep a wink and much to your displeasure, you followed suit. When Mando initially left, you had laid the kid down in his bassinet and you snoozed at his side, but seven hours later, you woke up to him waving his little baby hands trying to open the ship’s door. 

So, you were careful not to fall asleep before he did. Except, you were paying the price now.

The kid was usually so tame. He didn't touch what you told him not to touch, he'd eat when you gave him food, and he went to sleep when you laid him down. But now that little green gremlin was giving you hell. He touched everything, he would refuse to eat anything but meat—which you didn't have a lot of on a ship without a preservator, and he wouldn't. fucking. sleep. 

It seemed the only thing you could do to make him stop bouncing off the walls was “uppying” him. And in the beginning, it seemed like a good deal—you would get quiet and he would get uppy. But what you didn't realize was that while you carried that little demon, sitting was not an option No. You had to walk around with him or else he'd pry himself out of your grasp with his grubby three-fingered hands and go right back to touching anything with a warning label.

“Baby, I'll do anything. Just sleep, baby. Please,” you begged, bouncing him in your arms once more. Your eyes were dropped shut and you leaned up against the side of the ship, just sort of bending your knees and sliding up and down against the wall. “I know daddy isn't here, but he's coming back, I swear.”

The kid gurgled a bit and stared up at you with his big, starry eyes, knocking your face with his floppy ears in the process. It was like some sort of face off, each daring the other to give in. You forced your eyes to stay open, using what little energy you had left. The kid gave you a long blink in return.

“Maker, you're killing me.” You set the kid down and collapsed on the cot. Mando would be back any minute. You could rest your eyes for just a second. Just for a minute and when Mando came back you could actually sleep. One break was fine… 

You woke up to a clatter. Your eyes shot open—the kid. Kriff. You swiveled your head wildly, searching for the source of the sound. The sound of metal against metal came from the cockpit. Bantha shit! You slammed your fist on the door panel and raced to the cockpit. The door slid open and the sight of the window revealed the blackness of space. When did you leave…? 

A grunt to your right pulled your attention away from the window. You were met with the sight of the Mandalorian attempting to coax the baby into the bassinet. “Found the kid pushing buttons up here,” he grumbled. 

Kriff. You were so screwed. How was it that he was out catching the most dangerous criminals in the most dangerous parts of the most dangerous planets in the galaxy and you couldn't get one child to take a damn nap? Were you that useless? Would Mando make you leave? 

“Sorry.” Well there went the last of your dignity. You couldn’t see Mando’s eyes through the visor, but you could feel them burning holes through your brain. You willed yourself to shrink under his gaze. “Sorry,” you whispered again.

“For what?” He cocked his head like he was confused. Was he genuinely asking you?

You broke whatever kind of contact your eyes made with the visor and stared at the closed bassinet. How did he do that? Maybe you never were good with kids. Although, it’s not like you could have known, growing up on a planet like Arvala-7. It wasn’t a popular vacation spot for families. Those that were younglings on the planet were always hiding away until they found the opportunity to steal food from street vendors. You were really starting to regret taking this job. 

You shrugged in response. 

“Hey.” Mando stood from the bassinet and approached you. You often forgot just how intimidating his presence could be. He stopped in front of you, but his large figure loomed over you, forcing you to crane your neck up to meet the vizor. You scrunched your brow and sucked in your bottom lip. Don’t cry, you idiot. His voice softened and for a second you thought you heard genuine, human concern coming from under the mask. “Where were you?” he demanded.

“I was… I fell asleep,” you whimpered, looking down at his feet. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Are you ok?” 

“What?” Did he just ask you if you were ok? He never asked you that before. Most of the things he said to you were in command form. Don’t touch that. Set the coordinates. Carry this. And if they weren’t commands, they were some other form of a sentence with a testing atmosphere to them. 

“Are you ok? You look… tired.” Mando shifted his weight uncomfortably. 

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

Mando turned away from you and seated himself in the pilot’s chair. “You need to sleep. Go to bed, Y/N,” he said, punching in a few coordinates and the ship began to glow with life. 

“I… ok,” you said lamely. You could barely process anything now. You would apologize after you got some sleep. 

By the time you woke up again, you noticed the ship was no longer in motion. Light poked through the small window of the escape pod you slept in and you felt… warm. There was a weight pressed up against your stomach. You looked down at your stomach and small a small lump present under the blankets. Carefully, you sat up, letting the sheet slide down. Two big, green ears popped out. 

“What’re you doing here, baby? Looking for you dad? Well, this is probably the last place he’d be.”

Footsteps fell outside your door, followed by a single knock. Mando? He never came to your makeshift room, let alone knocked on your door. “Come in?” 

After a few seconds of silence, you were about to repeat yourself, but then the outside panel beeped and the door slid open. Mando remained at the doorway, hesitantly leaning forward. He watched you intently—or as much as the helmet revealed, not speaking, and suddenly, you felt incredibly vulnerable wearing nothing but a baggy, old shirt you borrowed from Mando while he stood full-armored in front of you. You ungracefully dragged the sheet a little further up your chest. “I’m leaving. I should be back soon. Watch the—Can you watch the kid?”

He just asked you. Not commanded. Asked. “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

The helmet nodded and Mando left as quickly as he came. Maybe you could apologize to him after he came back. 

You looked down at the kid, still sitting on your lap. “So I guess it’s just you and me again for a bit. Do you think we can come to some sort of an agreement?” The baby blinked. “Great.”

It took a bit of trial and error, but you did it. The kid was sleeping. After you changed, you’d picked up the kid and just hugged him. “I’m sorry for not taking better care of you. You got in trouble, but it was my fault,” you cooed. The child dug his face into your neck and pulled onto your shirt. You rubbed your hand soothingly on his back, rocking from side to side. “I hope your dad will forgive me too,” you murmured, bringing your hand up to the backside of one of his ears. You started to lightly scratch and then there was a small whump on your chest. The kid was asleep. 

“Thank you, Maker,” you mouthed silently, before bringing the kid to the bassinet. You made sure to close it this time. Now that the kid was asleep, you realized just how hungry you were. You hadn't eaten since before Mando came back from his last bounty hunt. Maybe there was something in the storage unit on the lower level. 

The bassinet trailed behind you as you made your way to the lower level of the Razor Crest. Your stomach growled louder and you started to pick up the pace to the storage unit. Just as you descended the ladder, you found yourself flat on your butt, a forgotten blaster that you tripped over at your feet. Looking around, you realized that the ship was a mess.

Maybe this would be a good way to apologize, after you actually apologized though.

Mando hated Coruscant. It was overcrowded, dirty, and it made him feel like he couldn’t breathe—even with the helmet on, but the highest-paying bounty that Karga had was currently on that damn planet. 

Mando’s grip on the tracker in his hand tightened once the Razor Crest came into view. Two things made the Mandalorian hesitant to board the ship. One: He really hated Coruscant. Two: you. He remembered your face when he asked you about the kid. You were halfway to tears. You were so… sensitive. Mando wondered how he’d gotten here with you accompanying him. It seemed like such an unlikely pair. A cold-blooded bounty hunter and a girl who cried when she accidentally tripped over the green bean in a potato sack. 

When Mando first landed back on Arvala-7, he went to the escape pod to tell you, but he found you still sleeping like a damn rock, the kid on your stomach doing the same. It wasn’t for another four hours until you came around. But every ten minutes, Mando came back to check on you. He probably came more often and stayed for longer than he needed to. There was just something so… peaceful about you. You looked so relaxed. So pure. Mando hadn’t slept like that in years. His back always hurt. His neck was always stiff. He bet you never felt sore. 

He could never sleep for long either. He could lie on that cot for a full cycle and not get any rest. Just gaze at the roof of the ship and… think. He usually didn’t dream. Didn’t sleep long enough at one time to. But the second you stepped onto that ship and smiled, that was all he could think about at night. Your smile. It filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort. When he woke up the next morning, his back still hurt and his neck was still stiff, but he’d slept for eight hours. That was the longest he had slept in a long time and every dream was about you. 

Your heart jumped slightly when the sound of the main hatch opening rang in your ears. You thanked the Force you were finishing up in the weapons’ hold and grabbed a blaster. You didn’t know how to shoot it, but whoever invaded the ship didn’t need to know that. Hopefully, they didn’t know how to use one either. You slowly lifted up the blaster and neared the exit of the small room. “I have a weapon!” you called out. The kid babbled and laughed at your nervous figure. You pushed the bassinet behind you and closed it. “Who’s here?”

An armored figure stepped in front of the armory, gloved hands comfortably seated on his belt. You shrieked and pointed the blaster in front of you, clenching your eyes shut.. The figure pushed the blaster out of his face. “Hey! What are you doing in here?” Mando’s voice demanded. 

Your eyes shot open, revealing the all-too familiar helmet. Oh. “Sorry!” you yelped. “I-I thought you were… um… an intruder.” 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked again. 

“Oh.” Suddenly you turned sheepish. “Well, I felt really sorry for falling asleep and not taking good care of the kid, but you left before I could apologize and I realized that this place needed some cleaning up, so I picked up. A bit.” You sucked in your lip and placed the blaster back on the hook. “And I wanted to apologize.”

“For being even less intimidating with a blaster than you are without one?”

Did… Did Mando just tease you? “Wh-What?”

“If you’re going to point a blaster at me, open your eyes when you do it,” he said.

“Oh. Right.” You cleared your voice. “I’m sorry for falling asleep. When you were gone before, the kid hadn’t slept in a really long time and I didn’t want to leave him on his own when he was conscious, so I stayed up too and he never went to sleep but—”

“Hey, slow down,” he said, stepping a little closer to you. You stepped further into the weaponry.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“Because you fell asleep?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, hands positioned tightly at your sides. “I’m sorry. If you want to just leave me on Arvala, I understand.” Your eyes teared up again. Please don’t cry in front of him.

The helmet titled to the side. “Why would I do that?” he asked softly.

“Be-Because I left the kid un-unchecked,” you blubbered. “And-And you’re mad at me.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“I can’t ever tell when you feel anything!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. You tried to wipe them away in vain. Stupid emotions. You shoved your face into your hands, mortified that Mando was only again, seeing you cry. He’s going to leave you here. Two arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in an awkward hug. 

Mando’s leather gloved fingers traced along your back and you dug your nose into his chest. A muffled ‘I’m sorry’ could be heard. “Quit it,” he said. 

You lifted your head to look up at the helmet. “What?’ you hiccuped, sniffing.

“Quit saying sorry,” he said, continuing to look straight ahead. If he looked at you, crying in his arms, with red-rimmed eyes and a pink nose, he wouldn’t let you go. He’d stepped over the line as it was. 

You wrapped pulled your arms from his chest and placed them around him, pulling the Mandalorian closer. “Your armor is cold,” you mumbled. 

Mando pulled away instantly, like he’d hurt you somehow, but your arms remained wrapped around his waist. “It’s ok,” you reassured him, sniffing. “I like it. My face feels warm anyway.”

Mando looked down, forgetting the boundaries altogether. You had stopped crying, but your eyes were still red and your nose was still pink. Your cheeks had filled his color from the blood that rushed to them. One of your cheeks was pressed against his chestplate, forcing you to stare to the side. Something in Mando wanted to stroke your hair, but he clenched his fist and kept it still on your back. He contemplated letting go, but you never hugged him before and he wanted a little more time to memorize how it felt, so maybe he could recreate it in his dreams. 

“Thank you,” you said, unmoving and pressed up against him. Mando didn’t say anything in response because he didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he placed his hand on her head and stroked her hair. 

Something tugged at his leg and then wrapped itself around it. Mando hesitantly pulled away and looked down. The kid lifted his head towards the two. He turned to you and made uppy hands. You laughed slightly and leaned down to pick up the child. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed, wiggling a finger at him with your free hand. Mando watched you as you snuggled up against the baby with a slight tang of jealousy. Damn that kid…  But then, Mando saw you smile, despite your puffy, dry eyes and he smiled under the helmet. You turned to him, calmly rocking the child back and forth. “What’s the next stop?”

Mando recalled the tracker in his hand. He shook his head and left it on a shelf in the armory. The bounty hunter paused, suddenly remembering a conversation he once had with you.

It was more of a one-sided conversation, you doing most of the talking. It was early, when you had just met Mando, still getting used to his dislike for communication. “I’ve lived on this desert my whole life. But I hate hot weather. I get cold too easily though. Space is colder than I thought. I used to talk to this old woman who lived near me on Arvala. She used to tell me about all the planets she’d been to. Alderaan, Hoth, Onderon, Dantooine... You name it and she’d been there. There was this one planet that sounded so lovely. Endless green fields, flora, fauna, temperate weather, rivers, lakes…”

“Naboo.”

[fallen420]

Rebel Spy - Chapter 13: Trust In The Force

WARNING: major rebels spoiler and ofc mandalorian spoilers

Masterlist

“Right, it’s always nothing isn’t it.”

I see his shoulders stiff as the air gets tenser. I know he can feel the frustration coming off of me. I sit here hoping that he says something, anything to make the tension go away. I want him to tell me what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. I love him and I just want to know if he’s okay.

But of course, that’s not Din. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t tell me anything. Stars, sometimes this relationship feels entirely one-sided.

I feel the crest take off and soon we get into space. With the ship falling apart he doesn’t want to go into hyperspace sooner than we have to or even at all.

The kid falls asleep in my lap as I stare at the stars trying to ignore the tension and - for some reason- the tears that are started to form in my eyes.

I don’t think the tears are from being sad. No, I’m not sad. The tears are from frustration. Is it too much to ask for him to talk to me? I know he’s not used to sharing his feelings so I shouldn’t push him too much.

The sound of him turning around in his chair snaps me out of my thoughts. However, I don’t make eye contact.

“Cyar'ika.” I don’t look up like he wants me to. It’s mostly because I don’t want to explain the tears threatening to leave my eyes.

“What?” The question comes out broken and barely a whisper.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad Din.” I turn my head to look at him, “Honestly.”

“I don’t know how to feel.”

“I know.”

I carefully lift the kid off my lap as I stand up. I sit him back in the chair making sure he’s still fast asleep. Once I’m sure he’s good I take a seat in Din’s lap snuggling myself into him. My head stays under his chin as he pulls me closer to him. I fall asleep listening to his steady heartbeat.

-

“You want me to fit inside there?” I say referring to the very tiny compartment where wires are that we need to get to, to fix the ship.

“Well, I can’t fit.”

“Din I can’t even put my head through there.” The kid’s coo draws our attention toward him. He sits in his pod playing with the stuffed Wookie I got him a few months ago. “You don’t think he could?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

-

“No, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was. And put the blue one where the red one was.” The kid just continues to look at the wires in his hand.

Din is kneeling next to me as we both try and direct him, “But be careful,” Din warns him, “They’re oppositely charged, so keep them away from each other. Make sure you hold them apart from-” And of course he puts the wires together causing sparks to fly and smoke to fill the compartment.

“That went exactly as how I expected.” Din just sighs next to me, “Are you okay?” I ask the kid and he just responds with a cough. “Okay come on let’s get you out of there.” I motion for the kid to come towards me and he crawls through the compartment and into my arms safely. “So now what?”

“There’s no way we’re making it to Corvus in this shape?”

I look around at the shaky ship that’s covered in fishing nets, “No shit.”

“I think we need to visit some friends for repairs.”

“Back to Nevarro it is then.”

-

We land the razor crest right outside of the city and Greef is there to greet us.

“Looks like someone could use some repairs,” Greef says as Din and I both have to jump off the ramp. Din being extra careful because he’s carrying the kid.

Din and Greef shake hands before Dins asks, “How’s my credit around here?”

“I think something could be arranged. I’ll get my best people on it.” He gets a few people to work on the ship before turning to look at me “Aurora good to see you again.”

I offer him a smile, “You too.”

“And you, come here, little one!” He says referring to the kid. He takes the kid out of Din’s arms and starts asking him all the questions he of course doesn’t have the answer to.

We walk through the city and the streets are full. People are everywhere each booth selling something different. There’s so much life here compared to the last time we were here.

I get pulled out of my thoughts when we stop at the cantina. The one Din almost died in, “Here we are,” Greef says.

“I’m surprised this place is still standing,” Din says.

“Wait until you see what’s inside.”

Din and I exchange a look before following Greef.

Inside is a school. There’s a droid at the front talking about the five major trade routes in the galaxy. “Not what I expected,” I tell Din. It puts a smile on my face to see a place that was once full of death now filled with the next generation.

“We’ll leave the little one here so we can talk business,” Greef says taking the kid to a desk.

“Uh, what?”

“Wait, wherever I go, he goes,” Din also protests.

“Mando please,” Greef says, “Where we’re going, you don’t wanna take a child. Trust me.”

This time Din looks at me and I just shrug my shoulders not really sure if he’ll be safe here or not. “He’ll be fine,” Greef reassures us. Greef puts him in a seat at the end in the second row. “Come on.” Greef walks out.

Din and I linger for a few moments, “Nobody knows we’re here, he’ll be fine,” I say more to myself then Din.

“Right,” Din says and we both walk out.

-

Greef shows up this map of an old imperial base. He says how there’s heavy weaponry and that the black market would love to dismantle and get their hands on. So we agree to help take out what’s left on the base so that Navarro would be completely safe.

Mythrol, one of Din’s old bounties and Greefs bookkeeper, drives us to wherever the base is located. Greef and Mythrol sit in the front while Din and I are in the backseat. Din’s hand has found its usual place on my thigh.

“The whole place is powered by a reactor. So we sneak in overload it and get the hell out of there, “ Greef says.

“Let's be fast,” Din says, “And keep the speeder running.”

We travel a little more before Mythrol stops the speeder at the front door, “Let's go.” I say as we all hop out.

I try pressing a few buttons on the panel but nothing happens, “Controls are using, they’re melted.”

After some convincing, Mythrol decides to get out of the speeder and help us out. He grabs the flange cutter per Greefs request.

While Greef and Mythrol bicker I notice Din is looking up at something. I look up to see a platform above us. And I know exactly what he's thinking.

“Are you gonna…”

“Think it’ll work?”

“It's you, Din, it’ll work.”

“Hold tight,” Is all he says before flying up to the platform. Mythrol tries to use the flange cutter again but all it does is make electricity fly everyone. I look back up at the platform when I hear blaster shots. Then there's screaming and a stormtrooper lands right at my feet. Behind us, the elevator door opens and the three of us pile in.

After a few moments, the elevator door opens and Din is standing there with three stormtroopers laying lifeless around him.

“Good job,” I say to Din as I stand at the edge of the platform looking at the lava.

“The reactor should be set in the heat shaft,” Greef says, “If we drain the cooling lines this whole base will go up in a matter of minutes.”

“Look,” Mythrol says getting our attention, “It's a mint Trexler Marauder. We can get a lot for this on the black market.”

“And it's gonna get vaporized like the rest of this base. Now, let's go,” Din says.

-

Din leads us to the command center. He goes in first and takes out the imp that's in there. The rest of us go in after. I go to the panels, looking through the cameras to find the heat shaft, “Okay I found it, let's go.” Din looks to see where it is before leading us there.

We get there successfully without being spotted. Mythrol opens the door using the code cylinder they swiped on the imp from earlier.

The door opens and we stand on a platform right above a pool of lava. We all look over the edge and Din puts a protective arm out making sure that I don’t fall over.

“That's it,” Greef says pointing to a panel which will make this place blow, “Get on the reactor controls, drain the coolant lines, we’ll watch the door,” Greef says to Mythrol.

He protests at first but Greef threatens to put him back in carbonite. He gets to the pannel and starts pressing buttons but nothing seems to be working, “Hurry up!” Greef tries to rush him. I don’t know what he does but alarms start to go off and the lava below us bubbles.

“All right, she's gonna blow,” Mythrol says getting away from the panel.

We start running down the hallways trying to get out of there as fast as possible.

“How long do we have?” I ask.

“Ten minutes at the most,” Greef answers.

We turn the corner and Din puts his hand up stopping us. In the distance, we hear stormtroopers running to fix what we did.

Din leads us down yet another hallway which brings us to two guys frantically trying to fix what we did. “Destroy it!” one of them say as we walk in. The three of us start shooting them while Mythrol hides behind us.

Din gets one and I get the other. When the shooting stops I look around to where we are exactly. Behind the glass, there are what seem to be like failed clones.

“What the…” Greef says

“I thought this was a forward operating base,” I say still staring at the disfigured body in front of us.

“I thought it was.”

“No, this is a lab. They’re doing some type of experiment, I don’t know exactly but we need to figure it out.” I ask Mythrol if he can get into the system and like always he protest but I get him to do it.

“I don’t like this,” Din says.

“Me either.”

Mythrol gets a Holocron appears at the desk the imps were trying to destroy, “Replicated the results of the subsequent trails, which also resulted in catastrophic failure. There was promising effects for an entire fortnight, but then, sadly, the body rejected the blood. I highly doubt we’ll find a donor with a higher M-count, though. I recommend that we suspend all experimentation. I fear that the volunteer will meet the same regrettable fate if we process with the transfusion. Unfortunatley, we have exhausted our initial supply of blood. The child is small, and I was only able to harvest a limited amount without killing him,” Din and I look at each other and I’m sure under that helmet hes just as shocked as I am, “If these experiments are to continue as requested, we would again require access to the donor, I will not disappoint you again, Moff Gideon.”

Hearing his name makes my body freeze up, my breathing gets shallow, and my heart thumps a mile a minute.

“This must be an old transmission. Moff Gideon is dead,” Din says.

“No, this recording’s three days old,” Mythrol confirms that Moff Gideon is alive.

I fight the tears that want to leave my eyes and I push back all the memories, “Din if he’s alive we have to get to the kid and we have to go now.” He grabs my hand as we ran out of there to get our kid.

-

“You got your eyes on it?” Din asks as I aim the gun at the tiefighter in front of us.

“Hell yeah, I do.” I press the trigger and it hits the fighter directly making it go down in flames.

After getting back to the city and grabbing the kid, we assumed Greef and Mythrol were in trouble considering they weren't back yet. So we got into the new and improved crest and headed over there. We found them in the Trexler Marauder Mythrol pointed out earlier.

“Hang on kid,” Din says but he's very distracted by the blue cookies I’m sure he stole from someone at the school.

Din pulls the lever making the ship go up after the tie fighters and the kid starts to giggle.

I shoot at the fighter but all the shots miss, “We need to get closer.” The ship somehow goes even faster. I hear the beeping meaning that the guns are locked in at the target, again I pull the trigger and the second tiefighter goes down, “One more.” The kid has his hands up cheering us on.

Din turns off the engine making the ship fall for just a moment before turning them back on again so we are right behind the last tiefighter. The tiefighter shoots at us but with Din piloting skills none of the shots hit us. We keep getting closer to the fighter and right before we collide I shoot and it goes down.

“Not too bad huh?” Din says turning around to look at me and the kid. I laugh and the kid throws up. It's blue from the cookies he hasn’t stopped eating.

“Oh stars,” I say in disgust. While Din talks to Greef on the coms I grab the end of Din cape and I try to clean the kid off as best as possible.

After saying bye to Greef Din turns back to us. I unbuckle and kid picking him, “I should get him changed.”

“Wait,” Din stands up placing his hand on my arm, “Are you okay?”

“I’m scared,” I tell him honestly my voice breaking a little, “He scares me, Din. He's not gonna stop until we’re dead.”

Din puts his helmet covered forward against mine, “I’m not gonna let that happen, cyar'ika.”

I nod my head letting a single tear fall before climbing down into the hall to get the kid changed.

-

“Alright so tell me everything you know about Jedi,” Din sits on the cot with the baby in his lap. The ship is on its path for Corvous so we should be there by tomorrow. Din and I are both getting ready for bed after a long couple of weeks.

“Like I said before I ran with a crew. By the time they picked me up they were basically family but they never treated me any different.” I pull one of Dins shirts over my head and I sit down next to him, “There were two Jedi. One master and one padawan.”

“Where are they now?”

“One um- one died so we could live and the other, he- he just went missing. Also so we could live.” Din puts his hand in mine, “I knew another. Fought with him in the rebellion. After the empire fell I lost contact with everybody. I have no idea where he is. I don’t know a lot about Jedi. But I do know they have strong connections to the force and the things they would do, the kid can do.”

-

Din and I step on the ramp looking out at the planet of Corvus. It's dark and gloomy. There's no color in sight. None of the trees have leaves on them. There's no life here.

“This place gives me the creeps,” I tell Din both of us looking around.

“Better than the ice planet.”

I scoff, “Yeah that's for sure.”

Din and I hear cooing and we both turn around to see the kid holding the little metal ball he must have stolen again.

“What did I say about that?” Din takes the ball from him, “This needs to stay in the ship,” and puts it in his utility belt.

He picks up the kid and stands next to me again, “I’ve never had dealings with a Jedi before, so you do the talking.”

“I got you,” I saw with a smile.

“Let's head into town. See if we can pick up a lead.”

-

After walking for a little while we make it to the town. There are stone walls all around it with guards in imp uniforms at the top. The guards have masks that I’ve never seen before. A man in armor asks us what our business is here and Din lies by saying that we’ve been tracking for a few days and that we're looking for a layover. He agrees to open the gate letting us into. The kid is in the bag that's around Din's shoulder this way he stays hidden.

Inside the town, it's just as lifeless. People are around there's just no life in them. Even five years after the empire fell they still find a way to make people miserable.

We walk through the town and neither of us really know what we're looking for. Din tries asking a vendor but they just walk away. We see a man in the alleyway with two children, “You there,” Din says getting the man's attention, “We need some information. We’re looking for someone.”

The man tells the children to leave and then walks up to us, “Please do not speak to them or any of us.” He's scared. It's obvious that everybody in this town is scared.

“Look,” I say softly hoping I can gain some trust since Din is a little intimidating, “We just need to know-” but I get rudely interrupted by two guards saying that the magistrate wants to see us. Giving us really no choice we follow them to wherever this magistrate is.

They lead us to another gate, Outside the gate people are strung up, “Help us,” One of them say as we walk by. The chains electrocute him and he screams out in pain. I wince angry at the fact that I can’t help them at the moment.

The gate opens and inside is the only place on this planet that has green. The trees have leaves on them. There's a bridge over a pond which is also the first water I’ve seen on the planet.

The magistrate asks us to haunt down a Jedi that is after her in exchange for a pure beskar spear. Obviously needing to find Ahsoka Din and I agree.

-

“These are the coordinates, keep your eyes open. We must be close.” We’ve been walking for a while now and so far there are no signs of life. Din hears something in the distance so he places the kid on a rock to be safe.

Looking around we decide that it's a false alarm of course that's before someone jumps out of the tree attacking Din.

Din pushes me out of the way. Once I get my senses back I realize that the flash of white I saw were lightsabers and that this must be Ahsoka Tano. Luckily lightsabers can’t cut through beskar. Din is a great fighter probably the best I’ve ever met but he's no match for a Jedi especially one with lightsabers. There's no point in me trying to join the fight considering a lightsaber could cut through me with ease. So I do the seconded best thing I’m good at. I talk.

“Ahsoka Tano!” I get her attention. She looks at me both her white lightsabers still up, “Bo Katan sent us. I’m Aurora and we need your help.”

She looks down at the kid still sitting on the rock next to me, “I hope it's about him.”

-

Ahsoka and the kid are sitting by a lantern. She requested that she speaks to the kid alone for a moment. So Din and I are away but not too far. I sit down on a rock while he paces back and forth.

“Would you stop pacing, you're making me nervous.”

He stops and looks at me, “You’re not?”

“Trust in the force Din.”

“That means nothing to me.”

I chuckle, “He’ll be fine.”

After a few moments, she picks up the lantern and the kid and walks over to us. She sets the lantern down and hands the kids to me and he sits peacefully in my lap. She sits down on the other rock. They both look at each and she nods while the baby makes what sounds like grunts.

“Is he speaking?” Din asks, “Do you understand him?”

She puts her hands under her robes thinking about her answer, “In a way. Grogu and I can feel each other's thoughts.”

“Grogu?” Din and I say at the same time. The kid coos immediately looking up at Din then at me.

“Yes,” Ahsoka says, "That's his name.”

Din takes a small step closer, “Grogu,” he repeats. He coos again looking at Din. It brings a smile to my face to finally know his name. To see him and Din connect even more.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Many masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden,” Din sits down as he listens, “Someone took him from the Temple. Then his memory becomes...dark. He seemed lost. Alone.” I can feel his slowly falling asleep in my lap, “I’ve only known one other being like this. A wise Jedi master named Yoda.” The name gets Grogu to look up at Ahsoka. They seem to communicate in their own way before his head drops back down again. “Can he still wield the Force?”

“Yes he can,” I answer, “We’ve seen it.”

“To wield the force it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

“Our task was to bring him to a Jedi,” Din says.

She pauses for a moment, “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the empire, yet it still hunts him.”

“He needs your help Ahsoka,” I say hoping we can convince her.

There's another long pause before she sighs,” Let him sleep. I’ll test him in the morning.”

-

With it being dark and both of us too tired to walk to the ship we decided to camp. Din made us a fire. Grogu sleeps on the rock as Din and I lay on the floor, my head on his beskar covered chest.

Din and I are relaxed until of course, we hear a branch breaking in the distance. Both of us stumble to our feet grabbing our blasters. It's silent for a moment and all you can hear in the crackle of the fire burning.

Out of the darkness is a small animal. The closer it gets to us the more obvious it is that it's a loth-cat.

I put my blaster down. I bend down near the cat, I put my hand out and it slowly walks to me smelling it. I start to pet him and he purrs at that, “I haven’t seen a loth-cat since well I was on Lothal.”

“You were on Lothal?” Din puts his blaster away sitting back down.

“Yeah, my Jedi friend was from there. You could almost say Lothal is where the rebellion started.”

“We’re not keeping it we have enough pets.”

“You’re so lame.” He laughs at me before laying back down. I join him as we both try to get some rest.

-

In the morning Ahsoka tried getting Grogu to move a rock but when he wouldn’t she asks Din to do it. After he wouldn’t lift the rock he took the metal ball he stuck in his utility belt. The kid pulls the ball to him instantly.

Din and I both walk over to him telling him that he did a good job. I smile at the fact that he was able to do it and at Din’s excitement.

“That's right I knew you could do it,” Din grabs the ball from him.

“He's formed a strong attachment to you,” Ahsoka says, “Both of you. I cannot train him.”

“What?” Din says standing up, “You’ve seen what he can do.”

“His attachment to you two makes him vulnerable to his fears.” I pick Grogu up, “His anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” she steps closer, “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to fully trained Jedi Knight. To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.” She starts to walk away, “I’ve delayed too long. I must get back to the village.”

“The Magistrate sent us to kill you.” This gets her to stop and face us again, “I didn't agree to anything.” Normally I’d be trying to help Din but I don’t want to leave the kid, “We’ll help you with your problem if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

-

Din and I are able to help her get the imps out of this town and free the people who were imprisoned.

We stand outside the gate walls, “I believe this was your payment,” Ahsoka says, holding the beskar spear.

“No. I can’t accept. I didn’t finish the job.”

“No, but this belongs with a Mandalorian.”

“Just take it,” I say and Din grabs the spear from her.

“Wheres your little friend?” She asks.

“He's back at the ship,” I answer her.

“Wait here we’ll go get him.”

-

“Do we have to?” I ask as we approach the ship.

“Yes.”

“But why? She said herself training him was dangerous.” Din presses his vambrace dropping the ramp.

“Because we were tasked-”

“Fuck that. What do you want to do Din?” As usual, he doesn’t answer me he just walks into the hull of the ship.

When I walk in Din has Grogu on his lap as he sits on the edge of the cot leaning against the wall. I lay my head on Din's shoulder trying not to pretend this isn’t breaking my heart.

-

Din carries him as we start to walk out of the ship, "You're like a father to him,” Ahsoka is outside of the ship, “You his mother.” Din and I walk farther down the ramp, “I cannot train him.” I feel a weight get lifted at the idea that I don’t have to do goodbye just yet.

“You made a promise. We held up our end.”

She walks up to us and gently holds Grogu’s hand, “There is one possibility. Go to the planet Tython there you will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has a strong connection to the force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”

“Then what?” I ask.

“Then Grogu may choose his path. If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him. Then again, there aren’t many Jedi left.”

“Thank you,” Din says.

“May the force be with you.”

-

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