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tiffdawg · 4 years

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On Fire For You | A Din Djarin x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @bestintheparsec

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.5k

Rated: T | Warnings: tropes galore, including but not limited to there’s only one bed, huddling for warmth, first kisses, and, of course, found family. And there’s one (1) mild reference to something spicy.

A/N: This is part of my follower giveaway! The lovely @aerolanya requested Din + “oh no there’s only one bed” and I’m only too happy to deliver on one of my favorite tropes. I hope you all enjoy!

Read on AO3 | My Masterlist

… . …

On Fire For You

It was a rare treat for you and Din to see Grogu for such an extended period of time, and you were excited to take him to an ancient temple at the Jedi Luke Skywalker’s instruction even if finding the site proved difficult but being stranded on a frozen planet in the middle of a blizzard was not how you envisioned the trip. Even with the upgraded console on Din’s new ship, it was impossible to navigate through to snowstorm raging on Polus. He’d been forced to set the ship down on the empty ice plains until it passed. Even now as you sat in the cockpit cradling Grogu, you saw nothing, but white snow and ice whipped by furious winds outside the transparisteel viewport.

You held the small child tighter as his ears drooped at a shrieking gust of wind. You didn’t like the sound of that either. When your partner re-entered the main cabin, you quickly stood from the co-captain’s chair and faced him. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded once as he brushed a layer of snow of his pauldrons. “Ship’s in good condition. We’ll be ready to fly as soon as the storm passes.” You nodded quietly as you processed the situation. And then he added, “as long as we’re not buried under ice in the morning.”

You didn’t like the sound of that either. “What are the chances of that happening?”

He gestured to the viewport you’d been staring out of as if to say pretty damn good, but at your worried expression, he made an effort to console you. “We’ll be fine for the night. Don’t worry.”

You heaved a small sigh of relief as you pulled your shawl tighter around your body, making sure Grogu was securely tucked underneath the thick Bantha wool as well. If Din thought things were fine, then you’d be fine. Surely there was nothing to worry about.

… . …

As your frozen breath swirled around you with each exhale, you wondered why you ever listened to a word out of that stubborn Mandalorian’s mouth.

Bundled in your heaviest parka and wrapped in a blanket, you and Grogu watched as Din pulled apart the ship’s internal wiring and tried to put it back together. Inside the metal hull, the temperature was dropping by the minute and after nearly an hour of work, he’d had no luck powering up the ship.

“Dank farrik.” Grumbling, Din tossed aside his pilex driver. “I can’t get the heating system back online. Hell, I can’t get anything back online. Not in these temps.”

“You’re telling me it’s colder than space?” you asked, desperately trying to hide your panic

“No,” he sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I– I don’t know this ship.” His frustration was evident in the way he moved as he stood and looked around helplessly. You felt for him. He always tried his best to hide his struggles from you, but you knew losing the Razor Crest was like losing his home. Despite the cold, your heart warmed toward him. Of course, that was nothing new.

“It’s okay,” you said, even as your teeth chattered. You reached toward him, intent on offering some sense of comfort, but recoiled as soon as your hand touched his cuirass. The metal was so cold it stung. “Kriff! You’re freezing, Din.”

“The armor is insulated. It’s only cold on the outside. I’m fine,” he assured you. Still, you eyed him skeptically. He never put much thought into his own good. More often than not, that was your job. “I wore enough layers,” he said pointedly.

“I’m practically wearing everything I own.”

“I can tell.” You heard that hint of a smile in his voice, the one that stirred the butterflies in your stomach, but you only narrowed your eyes at him. He chuckled softly and offered you the last blanket. “According to my starmap, there’s a small settlement not far from here. If we can make it there, we might find somewhere warm to pass the storm.”

“Might?” you whispered so only Grogu heard you. As he blinked up at you, you could tell that he shared your apprehension. “Don’t worry, little one,” you said as you trailed a gentle finger down the slope of his nose. “Your father would do anything to protect you.”

… . …

Either Polus was known for its hospitality or you looked as pitiful as you felt, but by some stroke of luck, the three of you found someone willing to offer you safe lodging in the village. As he assured Din that his family would be safe and warm for the night, your cheeks burned so warm you were certain the snowflakes melted as soon as they touched your skin. Then the generous old man dashed away through the snowdrifts back to the warmth of his home and family, leaving you alone in the old cabin. Relief washed over you as soon as you stepped inside and out of the biting wind.

“Ewoks live better than this,” you mumbled as you scowled at the sad, dark dwelling. It was well insulated but little more than a room and lacked something as basic as a refresher. The only one was in the village’s main hall which would require you to dash through the snow in the middle of the night should you wake up at some point. You would not be doing that. You knew it was better than being out in the snow or freezing to death on the ship, but it was austere even for your nomadic lifestyle.

“I’ve seen worse,” Din offered.

“Oh, I’m sure you have.” You rolled your eyes behind his back, but as he craned his neck to look back at you, you thought he might’ve sensed the gesture. After a year of traveling together, the two of you could practically predict each other’s next move.

While Din lit a small fire in the hearth in the center of the room, you offered a small meal to Grogu from the meager supplies you’d been able to carry with you. Unsurprisingly, he took the tin of food eagerly and sat himself near the flames to warm up. With the roaring fire, you finally felt your limbs start to thaw. Still, you kept all but your wet outer layers on as you arranged your bedroll. Which was when you noticed a small problem.

“There’s only one bunk,” you stated dumbly. You looked around the room as if a second would appear magically.

“You take it,” Din said as he reclined against the wall across from the fire. He folded his arms across his chest as if to fall asleep like he did in his captain’s chair.

“You won’t be comfortable like that all night,” you protested weakly.

“I’ve had worse,” he echoed. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better, Din.” You crouched next to him, trying to catch his eyes behind the visor. For all you knew, he was already asleep.

“You and the kid are all that matter,” he said softly after a moment. Your chest hollowed as the air escaped your lungs at his words. You felt the same sentiment deep in your bones. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Too late for that,” you said with a rueful little smile. You worried about the man constantly, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he carried your heart with him, and you needed him to keep it safe. Needed him safe. Even if he didn’t need to know that. You brushed the few remaining snowflakes off him even as they melted quickly in the warming room. “You shouldn’t sleep in wet clothes,” you offered pointlessly. “You’ll catch your death, and we can’t have that.”

Expecting him to gently chastise you for your concern, you didn’t wait for his response. Instead, you scooped up the baby, who’s eyes were blinking shut even as he still clutched the last of his meal in his tiny, clawed hand, and crawled into bed.

As you arranged the blankets neatly around the two of you, you noticed Din’s stare still trained on you. You held his gaze from across the room. It was hardly the first time you’d caught him watching you, but as the flickering firelight reflected off the obsidian visor, you desperately wished you could see his true expression.

“Goodnight, Din,” you whispered after a long moment.

“Goodnight, cyare,” he rasped quietly.

With that single word of Mando’a fluttering between your ribs, you settled in for the night.

… . ...

Perhaps an hour or two later you woke with a chill. As you all slept, the room’s only source of warmth had dwindled to smoldering embers and even as you curled up into a ball and cuddled the baby closer to your chest, it was not nearly enough to stave off the cold.

“Din?” you called, your voice wavering as you shivered. He woke with a bit of a start before his visor turned to you. “We’re freezing,” you embellished. Maybe he’d take pity on you if he thought the kid was cold too.

Din nodded once, almost dutifully. Limbs still heavy with sleep, he moved slowly as he stood and stoked the fire, but he gave up after a minute and ignited his flamethrower with a flick of his wrist. The hot blue spark was more than enough to rekindle it and you felt the warmth flood the room immediately.

You expected him to then return to his slumped position against the wall. Instead, he stared at you with his helmet tilted curiously. You watched with bated breath as he crossed the small room while pulling off a single leather glove. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of his tanned skin. Since that fateful night on Moff Gideon’s ship, you hadn’t seen him missing so much as a single pauldron. Din hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your face toward him, and ran the pad of his thumb across your lips. The simple action sent a shock through your system and every thought vanished from your head. All accept one. But you steadfastly resisted the urge to kiss his warm skin.

“Take off your clothes,” he said softly. Your jaw dropped at the command. And then, if possible, even further as he started to remove his Beskar.

“W– What?” you asked without bothering to hide your surprise.

“You need body heat,” he answered evenly. That… that made much more sense. That was a logical, rational explanation. Although it was the opposite of what you’d been thinking. You silently scolded yourself as you stripped down to your modest underclothes. You did your best to advert your eyes while Din did the same before climbing into bed behind you.

“Relax,” he said as he settled next to you.

You did as he asked. Or rather, tried your best as you laid facing away from him. As you did, you heard the faint whir of his helmet’s locking mechanism disengaging. A muscular arm reached past you to set it on the floor.

Understandably, all of the movement woke the baby. In the dim firelight, Grogu’s eyes widened as he smiled up at Din. He cooed happily as he reached for his father’s face.

“Hey, kid.” Din greeted him as if it was the first time, he’d seen him in a while. And like this, it was. He laughed, deep and rich and real, and you cherished the sound.

A smile pulled at your lips at the sweet exchange. But as much as you longed to see him, you kept your focus on the baby and let yourself see Din through his eyes.

“Alright, back to sleep.” For once, Grogu was tired enough to actually listen to his father. He curled up against your chest again and Din carefully tucked the blankets around the both of you. His soft snoring resumed almost instantly.

He shifted for a bit as if trying to find a comfortable position. You were acutely aware of his every move and every accidental brush of his skin against yours. At one sharp inhale, he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” Not quite trusting your voice, you nodded. Because the truth was, you were more than okay. There was no place you’d rather be than in bed with him. “Still cold?”

“A little.”

Before you could tell him that way okay, he surprised you by wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you closer until you laid with your back to his bare chest. Instantly, you felt the heat radiating off his body. The man was a furnace.

“Any better?”

As your eyes fell shut, the words slipped out with a breath before you could stop them. “Oh my stars, you feel so good, Din.”

His hold on you tightened. Then, in an unexpected but wholly welcomed move, his hand slid up your body to cup your cheek and turn your face toward his. You felt only a ghost of a breath on your skin before warm, chapped lips pressed against your cold ones. Scintillas of heat spread throughout your body.

“Look at me, cyare,” he whispered as you parted.

Hesitating only for a second, you opened your eyes to find perfect, plush lips smiling back at you. Letting your eyes roam, you admired his soft brown eyes glinting in the firelight and the mess of tousled locks you wanted to run your fingers through. So you did as you pulled him back to you.

“I can’t wait to have you alone,” Din murmured against your mouth. Chills erupted across your skin that had nothing to do with the cold. But his kiss only lasted a moment before he backed away with a look of uncertainty. “Do you want that?”

You smiled at his bashfulness. It was completely unfounded, but endlessly endearing and so incredibly like him. “Yes,” you promised as you sealed your lips to his once more. Both of you fell fast asleep with soft smiles

… . …

The storm passed overnight and the next morning the villagers set you on the right path to the ancient temple. Din got the ship up and flying in no time and the three of you were off.

When you arrived Grogu seemed to instinctively know just what he had to do. Whatever he was meant to find in there, it was meant for him alone. With a gentle hand on his shoulder, just above the mudhorn signet that signified their bond, you held Din back as the baby toddled into the icy cave alone. You sensed his hesitation, but he stayed with you. He heaved a sigh under your touch.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a good father?” you asked as you slipped your hand into his. The gesture was new, but as he twined his fingers with yours, it felt like something the two of you had done a thousand times before.

“All the time,” he answered.

“And do you believe me yet?”

Din was quiet for a long time before he turned to you. “You’re a good mother to him, cyare.”

Somehow, as you beamed at him, you knew your smile was returned. Finally, you could imagine it perfectly.

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

💕Tiff

... . ...

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #fic: on fire for you

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winchesterxxi · 4 years

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A Link (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13

Type: Angst

Request: “Fic request - reader is a Jedi ( untrained) and Luke requests she also joins him. She has to choose between leaving Din or going with the child. After watching that episode I’m already depressed as hell so the more angsty the better!”

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: CH.16 SPOILERS

A/N: What’s the most depressing love song you can think of? Play it.

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

You’d never think this rescue mission would lead to this. The plan was to get in, rescue Grogu, get Moff Gideon and walk out - the less damage the better. Needless to say, things didn’t go exactly according to plan, not in a single way.

But you definitely were not expecting an X-Wing to land on the ship and for a Jedi to walk out of there. Not any Jedi: Luke Skywalker. You’d heard a few gossips here and there about how he was the last great one of his kind, but you couldn’t predict that he’d sense Grogu and come get him. Ashoka? Sure. Luke Skywalker? Not in a million years.

It all happened so slow yet so quickly. One minute Grogu was in your arms, pointing at a screen, the next Din was saying goodbye to him, letting him see his face for the first time, while tears pooled across his vision before putting him down and letting the child waddle to Luke and the droid.

All eyes were focuses on Grogu as he exchange some sort of conversation with the beeping droid, before Luke’s eyes met yours.

“The force is strong with you too, Y/L/N”

“Just Y/N is fine.” you correct him, deferring his statement.

“Were you ever trained, Jedi?” he questions you, clearly noticing how unlike a Jedi your garments were - a beskar armor Din made sure to make buy you in Naboo as to protect you as much as possible, given the jobs you carried alongside him. It had cost him a great deal of credits but he didn’t want to hear a word about it. If it’s to keep you safe, I’d sell my own armor, he said.

“No?... I don’t know, I’ve just always felt The Force, I kind of taught myself everything I know."

“Have you ever maneuvered a lightsaber?”

You shook your head “No. Just blasters and spears.”

“A Jedi must learned to use one.” You don’t like where this conversation is headed and you can see by the way that Din’s shoulders are tensing up, as he stands next to you, that neither is he.

“Do you know the dangers of being your age and untrained, Y/N?” look questions, eyeing you only.

“No.” Din cuts in abruptly, stepping in front of you in a protective manner, his frame towering over you completely cutting your form from Luke’s vision “You’re not taking her as well.”

You can hear the croak in his voice. He is still on the verge of tears but there’s anger in there as well. Luke wants to take his lover away.

You step out from behind him to his side, left hand on his shoulder, forcing his bowed head to look at you. Your eyes meet his and it’s as if every muscle in your body felt like floating up to space. This man melted you every time.

But you have to own up to yourself, looking up at him with eyes as if to exchange a message in a language that only the two of you spoke. As if saying I should go.

His lips tremble and he shakes his head.

“Not you too, cyar’ika.” he begs.

“Din...”

“Don’t leave me. I’ve lost my home, my son, I - ... Please, don’t leave me” he grabs both of your hands in his, bowing his head and sniffing, as a single tear falls in the back of your hand.

The feeling of the wet drop in your hand opens your own gates, but only slightly, as you try to keep it together for the both of you.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” you sniff, palming his cheek in your left hand “you have... plenty to figure out on your own.” you say touching the handle of the dark saber hanging from his gun belt.

“I don’t care about that piece of junk, I care about you.”

You wan’t to fight him back. You want to tell him how big of a deal that saber is and how much he should indeed care about it. But that wasn’t Din, that wasn’t Mando. He didn’t care about some stupid weapon or the status that it’d bring him. He went as far as to yield it to Bo-Katan as soon as he could, but unfortunately that’s not how it’s supposed to work. But he didn’t care. He only cares about the people he loves. And that made your heart ache all the most.

You are standing there, shaky breaths looking down at your hands, before sniffling and facing Luke.

“What happens if I go with you?” Din’s head shots up, looking at you,

“Given that you’re way past the normal age gap in which a Jedi is trained, you’d probably be assigned to a Master right away and they’d be responsible for all your training.” Luke explains, Grogu at his feet.

You nod and turn your head to look in Din’s eyes, your voice quieter now “And if I stay?”

“That’s... that’s not recommended as the grasp you have--” he starts

“What if I stay?” you insist.

“You’ll stay untrained, to put it simply. You’ll keep not understanding the dimension of your powers and the responsibilities that come with it. You might misuse it, you might not be able to control it and hurt the ones you love. You might kill without intending to, and you might turn to the dark side.”

“I would never - “ you interject, defending yourself

“It’s a faith you can’t control. Unless you train yourself. Unless you refine your skills.”

You ponder his words. The weight of both options dawning on you as you consider them.

“Even with me having a different Master from Grogu, will I still be able to make sure he’s okay?” you look at Grogu, adoringly. Who knew that little green ball of bald hair, if there even was such a thing, would become such a big part of your life.

“Arrangements can be made, yes.” Luke assures you.

You nod your head to yourself, eyeing the floor. You have made your decision.

You grab both of Din’s hands once again, this time his are the ones in between yours and you grab them hard. Not as to hurt him but to comfort him about what he knew you were about to say. But before you can say anything he shakes his head, another tear falling down his right cheek.

“Please, no.” he breathes

“It’s what’s best for everyone, Din.” you plead

“For everyone? I’ve lost my home, I’ve lost him, I can’t lose you too.” he takes a break to catch his breath, sniffling a few times “No, not you.”

“Din... let me go, please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“How can you ask me that?” He looks you in the eyes. Those sweet brown eyes and his furrowed brows, asking you how you can even dare to break him this way “Please don’t walk out of that door.”

“If I stay, I might hurt people and I - “

“You’d never do that. You care for everyone you meet you’d never hurt people.” he brings your hands up to his chest, planting them there. You can feel both his breathing and heartbeat.

“You heard Luke...I might not be able to control it.” you try to reason with him “Din, if I ever hurt you I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He bites his bottom lip trying to keep it from trembling and you grab the back of his head, feeling his curls and pulling his forehead to rest against yours.

“Do you trust me?”

“What? Of course I do.” he says in less than a second

“Then please...” you breathe out“ trust that I’ll keep him safe. Trust that I’ll come running back to you as soon as I finish my training.”

Seeing the scenario unfolding in front of him, Luke decides to help you out “She might also act as a link between you and the child. The three of you are connected by a very strong bond and Y/N can act as a communication link.”

You look in his direction, silently thanking him.

“Din.” you whisper his name. Oh how sweet his name has always sound in your voice. Every time you’d call him his heart would flutter inside is ribcage, but he would never admit to that. But he understands you.

“It is for the best, isn’t it?” he whimpers quietly, barely above a whisper.

“It is. I know it hurts. Fuck, it hurts so bad, but it is.”

Pulling slightly away from you, he reaches into his back pocket taking out something before offering it to you, on the side that is hidden from the other presences in the room. He reaches down into his pocket taking out the sphere. When he opens his gloved hand, you can see it’s the tiny sphere from the Razor Crest that Grogu loved so much.

“I want you to give him this.”

You shake your head, carefully closing your fingers over his “No.”

“But the kid -”

“Din, keep it.” you know it’s the only thing that he’ll have to remember the kid “You’ll need it more than him.”

There is silence, at last. Only both of your altered breathings can be heard for a while until you notice Din’s hands shuffling at the bottom of your peripheral vision. Looking down, you can see that he is taking his gloves off and your brows furrow in confusion.

Before you can process whatever was happening, his hands, his ungloved hands, come up to rest on both sides of your face and he holds you there. His hands are a little rough but you don’t mind - they are all the more warm and gentle as you feel his skin against yours. His thumbs wipe a few tears away from the corners of your eyes as they stare at him. His right hand slides slightly down from your cheek to your lips as he wipes your top lip, carefully, feeling the softness of them. His delicacy causing you to lean into his palm and placing your corresponding hand on top of his.

He wanted to touch you. If this were the last thing he gets from you, he’ll be happy with it. Slowly, Din then dips his head to join your lips with his in a passionate but sweet kiss, your hands still on top of his, cherishing his touch as much as you could. Despite your eyes being close, you can tell he was crying just as much as you as you could feel tears that weren’t yours come in contact with your cheeks.

Pulling away, but not enough to separate your faces, your foreheads rest once again against each other. One of his hands finds it’s trail to where your heart would be and he rests it there, you doing the same to him with your opposite hand. Feeling each other's heartbeat, connecting.

A few moments pass until you hear his voice again.

“This isn’t a goodbye is it?”

You shake your head slightly. “Not in a million years. We’ll both be back to annoy your ass before you can even notice.”

This causes him to give a half-hearted chuckle, yearning for the day when that happens. “If you come back-”

“When I come back...” you are quick to correct him.

“ When you come back, the first thing I’m going to do is make you my riduur, I promise you that much.” you squeeze his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“And I promise you that I’ll say yes, in a heartbeat.”

His head shifts slightly and he rest his lips against your forehead, whispering the words that until a year ago he would’ve never dreamed of ever saying to someone, but that he has since said so many times. But only to a single person. Only to you,

“I love you.”

“I love you.” you assure him against his chest.

Taking a big breath in, you pull away taking a good look at him one last time. Until suddenly you feel a tug on the bottom fabric of your armor. Looking down you can see Grogu with his little arms up, gesturing for you to pick him up.

Laughing between the tears, you reach down and pick him up, facing Din. In any other occasion, one could interpret the way the three of you were standing as a mother holding her child, saying farewell as the father heads out to work. But this reality is so much more painful. In this reality you’re both the ones leaving, and what you leave behind has a wound that won’t be fixed for a long time.

Tilting your head close to the kid you prop him to say his goodbye “Say bye bye to Din.”

Grogu’s little 3-fingered hand shakes as much as his arms allow him to in front of him as he coos, probably thinking he was articulating an actual farewell. Before you can a step away, Din grabs the back of your head one last time, kissing you between your eyes, before letting you go.

You step in Luke’s direction, communicating through The Force how grateful you were with him for being so patient, and he nods in acknowledgment.

“May The Force be with you.” he says to Din, who nods his head.

The four of you turn to walk away, but Grogu manages to climb up your arms and stay looking at Din as he gets farther and farther away. When you all reach the elevator you turn to face him one last time, using the force for what you never did before - connect with him.

I will always let you know where we are.

And as his eyes soften, you hear a response.

And I’ll always be at the ready to fly to you.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

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#hope you had tissues #if not WELL #winchesterxxi #din djarin x reader #angst #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #star wars #jedi reader

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cherryblossomriot · 4 years

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i had a dream the other day that was basically a dinluke cowboy au and it has been HAUNTING me, so just allow me to deposit it upon you like my subconscious drop kicked it onto me:

Luke is a disabled veteran who has returned from war one hand lighter and several scars heavier. When he returns, his family, who are heavily involved in the politics/military of this fictional land, don’t understand his now jaded and melancholic view of both the world, but also the ideologies that they so strongly believe in, leading him to constantly feel like an outcast even among the people that he so dearly loves. They’re all passionate and strong-willed, but they still don’t understand, not his struggles with mental health or his new perspective, and it just makes things worse and worse and worse. Anakin is a general, and though he’s seen the gruesomeness of war firsthand, he’s also become desensitized to it and has anger-management issues, so he often almost finds a sort of refuge within the chaos of battle, so he clearly cannot even fathom the emotions and trauma that Luke is trying to sort through, much less know how to deal with them properly. Padme is a senator and cares deeply about the crimes and seemingly senseless violence occurring during the war, but she’s also a politician and knows how to play the long game, so when Luke comes to her, he leaves feeling misunderstood and pushed aside. Leia is the only one who seemingly understands, as the pair of them have a deep, intrinsic bond, but she doesn’t fully grasp Luke’s moods and doesn’t handle his breakdowns and flashbacks well. So everyone feels a little upset, a little unsettled, and a lot like they don’t understand why and how Luke has changed, which leads to Luke feeling more and more out of place within his own family. The war ends relatively soon after Luke’s return, which leads to parades which leads to awards which leads to balls and banquets, all of which Luke is forced to attend, his heart dragging but his head held high, because he’s an Amidala-Skywalker goddammit, and we have a certain responsibility and image to maintain to the public and everyone who endured so much. So Luke has to sit there through awards and boasts of glory and mentions of battle scars and it goes on and on and on, and he has to smile and bear it and accept the medal that they’re giving him because he did such a great service to his country and-he has a panic attack. A nasty one that leads to him having to flee from a ballroom, and outside to the gardens. Once he’s there, he realizes that he doesn’t want to go back in. At all. So he runs away. He just picks a direction and goes, stealing a car on the way (this is a modern au but also fictional countries because I don’t want to get into real politics, hooo boy no siree). In the middle of nowhere, he gets caught in a storm and basically crashes his car and passes out.

But when he wakes up! That’s when the fun begins.

He’s in this cozy sort of bedroom, and this hot guy is fast asleep in the chair beside his bed, and is that a little kid in his lap? Anyway, the hot guy wakes up, introduces himself as Din Djarin in the softest, most attractive voice Luke has ever heard with his own two ears, and doesn’t ask him where he’s from or what he was doing driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at 3 in the morning, so Luke is obligated to have a lil crush on him, even though he’s not sure about the kid. So he asks, and Din introduces him to his son Grogu, who waves at him and signs hello, because, as Din explains, he doesn’t speak much, and the foster system wasn’t too kind to him, so he’s got a little bit of trauma to work through. And Luke just, instantly falls in love with this soft dad and his cute little son who can shift his features from the biggest, most pleading puppy eyes ever to the face of a demented gremlin who will try to eat the frog he caught in the backyard, no matter how slimy it is, or how hard it tries to wriggle out of his hands. Din tells Luke that he can stay for however long he needs, because Luke’s kinda injured from his accident, and anyway, once he’s healed up, they always could use another hand on the farm. So Luke stays, and he meets all of Din’s other farm hands (and shitty friends). There’s Boba, who doesn’t talk much, but when he does it’s always something slightly ominous and menacing, and Luke thinks that his name sounds familiar...hey wasn’t he on the news for robbing a couple banks a few years back?...no, surely not..., Fennec, who speaks even less than Boba, and manages to be far, far more intimidating, but also helps Luke with his prosthetic and gives him fun little tips that always sound more like she’s cut off a lot more limbs than she’s lost. Cara Dune (who is not gina carano but i digress) is also there, and she’s just constantly a harbinger of chaos, but will babysit Grogu whenever Din wants to brood and stare longingly into the distance (or at Luke who’s also brooding as the sun sets but shhh). Bo-Katan and the gang are there, and while Bo-Katan grumbles about how the old ranch boss had different/better methods on how to run things, she still follows Din’s lead and helps him with the finances and taxes. They all take to Luke like a wildfire, because Luke is a sunshine boy who can make friends with literally anyone and somehow manages to make Din not only smile but laugh, but also because they can tell he’s got a lot of trauma and pain bubbling just under the surface, and they all silently but collectively agreed a long time ago that they are the patron saints of troubled and lost souls.

When Luke gets better and starts to help out, he’s constantly upset with himself because he used to help out at his aunt and uncle’s farm in the summers when he was a kid, and he knows how to do this stuff, but his prosthetic is really throwing him off and his body has sustained a lot of other injuries that make doing manual labor a much more different experience than it used to be, but everyone is really patient with him and helps him out, especially Din. At one point, Din is so nice that Luke just loses it, because he doesn’t understand how Din can be so kind and so patient, and care about him so much, and kind of calls himself broken and useless in front of Din, and Din gets super protective and grabs his hands (real and prosthetic) and tells him that he’s not broken or useless, and you’re so sweet and wonderful, and can’t you see? Ever since you’ve been here, everyone’s been so much happier, so much lighter. You’ve brought something precious to us, but most of all to me. And they’re standing really close and for a second Luke thinks Din is going to kiss him, but instead, Luke realizes that he’s crying, and Din just wraps his arms around him and holds him.

After that, time sort of blurs, marked by things like Grogu climbing into Luke’s bed because he sensed that he was having a nightmare, and Din waking up to find the pair of them coloring in a serene silence, Luke getting the hang of ranch life and his prosthetic and dealing with his panic attacks and flashbacks as they come, and Din enduring relentless badgering from his friends because hey, if you don’t marry Luke, I will and Fennec, you’re a lesbian and that doesn’t matter, it’ll be a marriage of twink and butch solidarity. And all the while, Din and Luke are spinning closer and closer towards each other, two suns hurtling in their orbit to the other with an inescapable certainty.

When it finally happens, they’ve just gotten back from one of those cowboy dances (idk what they’re called...hoedowns? yeah okay) (and yes, I wanted to hit all of the cliches in the book, thank you very much), and Grogu’s fallen fast asleep on Luke’s shoulder. After they tuck him up all snug in his bed, they head out to the porch, because it’s raining outside, and the steady thrum of water droplets splattering on the roof and on the grass is the most soothing sound Luke has ever heard (aside from Din’s voice), and he’s a little too afraid to go to sleep and ruin his perfect night with a nightmare. They stand there for a while, silence binding them together, shoulders brushing every now and then, hesitant and questioning. Luke thinks about how Din had asked him to dance earlier, his lips tilted in a teasing, but achingly soft smile, and how his heart had pounded a tattoo to the shape of his ribs when they’d pushed up so close together, the fast, rowdy dances of the beginning of the night having faded to something lasting, something meaningful. Luke remembers the ball he’d run away from, how the dancing had been cold, almost jeering in a way, and Luke realizes how far he’s come, how different it is here. And suddenly, there isn��t a question in his mind anymore. He turns toward Din, who turns toward him, and when he leans forward, Din breathes an uncertain “Luke-”, but he doesn’t get to finish the thought. Luke kisses him, and he kisses back, and it’s just them. There are hands in hair and noses nudged together, and at some point, they move, without either of them releasing the other, into the house and into Din’s bedroom. Buttons are unbuttoned, and whole stretches of skin are kissed, and when it’s over, they curl up together, Din tucking his head into the crook of Luke’s neck and falling asleep there.

When they wake up, Luke explains why he came here, why he ran away, all the while Din looks at him with his beautiful dark eyes and runs his hands through Luke’s hair, which is catching the sunlight filtering in through the window and making him look like he has a halo, all the while never once condemning him for keeping it a secret this whole time. After he’s finished, he expects some sort of shocked reaction-after all, his family’s pretty famous, but all Din does is kiss him and ask, “Wait, so you have a twin?”

It’s so unexpected that Luke throws his head back and bursts into uncontrollable, and very contagious peals of laughter, and when he’s finally able to breathe again, he kisses Din’s forehead and murmurs, “I love you.”

Din, who has been touch starved and lonely for years (no time for relationships when you’ve got a business to run and a toddler to raise), tears up and kisses him, too overwhelmed for words. But Luke understands.

And then Grogu pushes his way into the room holding up a box of Frosted Flakes above his head and shaking it, as if to say, I’d like to eat now, please.

Din and Luke stifle their smiles into the other’s shoulder, and when they get up, Luke can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs.

----

It takes approximately .5 seconds for all the others to figure out they’re together now, and Cara and Bo-Katan (of all people) start cheering immediately, to Din and Luke’s shock. Boba and Fennec grumble and begrudgingly hand over a huge wad of cash each to Cara and Bo-Katan because they thought it would take them at least another two weeks to get together. Din’s very done with his friends at this point, but he takes one look at Luke’s flustered but smiling face and decides he won’t kill them all this time.

And if everyone thought Luke was a lot of excitement for a humble ranch in the middle of nowhere, then they are in no way, shape, or form, prepared for when his very angry twin sister shows up with a himbo with a shit-eating grin and his 7 foot tall best friend she hired to track her brother down.

(needless to say, Boba punches Han within two minutes of interaction).

#dinluke #dinluke headcanon #dinluke fic #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djaren #bo-katan kryze #fennec shand #leia organa #they just love each other a lot #and i am but a conduit of that love #Han takes one look at Boba and decides it's his life mission to just annoy the shit out of him #he stays away from fennec though #she's very scary #and she has no time for his dumbass #leia is even more angry and hard to deal with than she usually would be #because not only has her twin brother been missing for like four months #but she has had to deal with han thee peak dumbass solo for at least a week and its driving her insane #Chewwy fits right in #he hangs out with fennec and they go out and shoot cans together #leia hears that luke and din are together now #and she's like #you saw one (1) dilf and couldn't help yourself could you #and din's like #what's a dilf????#and luke is like #it means you're very hot #and leia rolls her eyes

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years

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But also the time Anakin didn’t fall but became the Emperor after those pesky Jedi killed Palpatine.

Before they could be all hurray, the evil’s been defeated!!1! \o/ someone realizes just how deeply entrenched Palpatine’s Empire is in the Galactic Republic and whatnot and they should maybe do something about that?

And what with Palpatine being dead it only makes sense for his ~padawan, whatever his name was to assume the title and so you get Darth Vader as the new Emperor.

(So badly injured in his battle to protect the Emperor he’s forced to wear this special suit with a rad helmet and anyway, very Darth Vader of him.)

Rumors say Vader was a close friend of Anakin’s until Palpatine turned him to the Dark Side. Vader lived, but Anakin...didn’t, or so the rumors go.

Makes for a good story, though. Vader vowing to destroy everyone Anakin loved and whatnot in revenge for killing his master, so of course Oni-Wan spirits Padme off to Alderaan to keep her safe. She has the twins there and pledges to destroy the Empire by siding with the Rebel Alliance, and anyway.

Makes for a good story, you know?

Meanwhile Anakin and a few trusted people who know the truth work to dismantle the Empire, quietly horrified at how large it is and how did all of them miss this?

Also the whole Order 66 business Palpatine never gets the chance to issue, but is a Concern with the clones, the 501rst sticking with Anakin because they’re convinced the man cannot be allowed out without supervision, supposedly ~evil Emperor or not.

And of course, you know, the Anakin’s former Jedi master determined to stop the man who killed his padawan, and becomes Vader’s Arch Nemesis.

There’s this whole cat and mouse thing between them where Anakin manages to catch him every so often.

Everyone aboard the Emperor’s ship not in the know is like :O because you just know he’s torturing information about the Rebels and Skywalker’s family - what better revenge than to take Ankin’s children as his pupils? - out of him and everyone knows the Emperor is very thorough.

But really, it’s like, omg, Obi-Wan could you maybe be less dramatic and Anakin you have no room to talk, and also, Padme and the twins say hi.

And then Plotting to destroy the Empire from within and it goes a bit faster, what with Anakin being the Emperor and all? But there’s so much to do and he’s so tired, and misses his wife and kids.

The only thing Obi-Wan can do is bring little recorded holo messages from Padme and the twins, in code and careful not to look suspiciously like letters to Anakin, and they both pretend this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to them.

Also, also.

That time someone got it into their heads to jut up and kill Skywalker’s family to curry favor with the Emperor’s and almost succeeded.

No one knowing where Luke was for ages until Boba Fett demanded an audience with the Emperor. Said he had information on something he was sure the Emperor would be interested to hear and anyway.

Anakin meets with Boba Fett who has a little Mandalorian beside him and Anakin almost gives everything away on the hangar deck because it’s Luke.

Safe and sound and the moment they’re somewhere safe, the only ones around who know the truth, Anakin is hugging Luke so hard and Luke has grown up in the - has been a year? more? - time since the attack, and oh, he needs to tell Padme, tell Leia and the others.

(But you know, just a little longer like this.)

There’s no safe way to get Luke back to Padme and others without risking exposing everything they’ve sacrificed for, so Luke ends up staying with Anakin.

By pretending to be a foundling Boba Fett’s taken in, and it’s just.

The next time he captures Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan stops laughing (that or cry and he’d rather not) he looks at Luke in his armor - it suits him oddly enough - and this gruff bounty hunter that Anakin’s kid charmed the hell out of enough for him to risk going to the Emperor and anyway.

The Emperor’s pet bounty hunters (and secret bby!Jedi) and, uh yes.

That goes on for a few years, Boba’s foundling turning into a truly terrifying bounty hunter in his own right and whispers saying Vader should replace Fett with the younger one, but he doesn’t. Perhaps waiting for the foundling to do it on his own, who knows.

Also that time Boba and Luke ran into Din somewhere and Boba Fett is like oh no, because Anakin’s going to kill him and also Din is an idiot and he never wanted this okay, never.

(There’s this whole Thing before this, though, misunderstandings and trying to kill one another before Din realized wait, not the bad guys??? And also oh, no, because Luke’s face, okay. Very nice.)

And yet here he is, bringing these idiots back to the Emperor’s ship and sure he’s about to get sighed at so much because Anakin, and really, idk.

Because Luke and Din and Adventures while Boba was negotiating a job, and who the hell told Din he was an adult when he thinks being swallowed whole by a krayt dragon is a sound strategy???

Also that time with this small village of shrimp farmers and the bandits with an AT-ST and anyway.

Anakin’s going to kill him.

One good thing out of dragging the two of them around with him is that he gets Fennec on his side, , the only actual adult around for parsecs.

Although, okay, Luke learning sniping from her (among other deadly things) is terrifying considering what a good shot he already was.

(Boba pretends he doesn’t see the way Din looks at Luke when he’s shooting, pretends he knows nothing of the way Luke looks at Din when he so much as breathes, and why, why, was he cursed to have Skywalkers in his life again?)

But, okay, but.

At some point they get to where they can break the hold the Empire has over the galaxy, weakened it enough it cant go to ground, nurse its wounds and come back again, and Skywalkers you know?

Dramatic bastards.

This whole thing where the Emperor’s pet bounty hunters turns against him, team up with the Rebels and Kenobi and Tano, and anyway.

Vader dies on the bridge of his ship and it’s all the newsfeeds and whatnot talk about for weeks, months, later.

Don’t even notice when a man who looks like Anakin Skywalker might have if he’d lived, gotten older, goes to Alderaan or wherever the two of them went to see Padme and Leia, a trio of Mandalorians with him, and anyway.

Yes.

But also, also.

Luke and Din showing up wherever Anakin ends up a few years down the road with this Grogu character, and all, “Hey, dad, guess who we found?”

(Shhh, Anakin’s supposed to be dead, and it’s very tragic, really, how Padme visits so often to lay flowers on his grave and honor his memory and honestly, it’s beautiful in a way, don’t you think?)

Because years and years of conflict and opportunists and worse and someone got to Grogu before they could be stopped, but it’s okay now because he has two dads who wear shiny armor and also have lightsabers -

“Wait, wait,is that the Darksaber? Does Obi-Wan know about this?

- and let him eat all the frogs he wants, it’s awesome.

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#this is just a mess #and probs full of plot holes #but the ridiculous drama okay #i love it #/o\#technically not a fic #vagrant fic #(also also #it's been A Day #so #yes #)#emperor darth vader au

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dindyke · 3 years

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Three Ways A Clan Is Torn Apart : 1301 words, din djarin/luke skywalker, canon compliant, major character death

The attack on Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy by the newly formed Kylo Ren diverges at three points, three ways in which Din Djarin and Grogu lose and are reunited with the final member of their Clan of Three.

Midnight finds the Mand'alor still in conference, with no clear end in sight. His advisors argue amongst themselves, and Din shifts in his seat, waiting for them to finish. His throat is coated with an acid he cannot seem to swallow down, and he can’t focus on the blabber.

When Grogu pushes the heavy doors open, guards flat on their asses behind his small body, the chatter is forgotten completely. Grogu speaks to them all through the Force.

Buir, we must leave. There is a disturbance on Yavin IV. I cannot sense the Children, he says.

He hears the end of a protest from Bo Katan and leaves the room in a hurry, hoping they will come to understand that if his family is in jeopardy, he must go. That is his Way.

“Your father? Can you sense him?” Din asks as they quickly make their way to their ship.

Faint. He is faint, is all Grogu says in return.

The trip to Yavin IV is silent, spare for their breathing. When they land, amongst the rubble and the smell of death, it suffocates them. Grogu places his small hands on every cold body, pushing energy through the Force until he sways and can no longer stand.

They didn’t find Luke. However, his X-Wing was missing, and neither his robes nor his corpse were anywhere to be found. Hope. That was their hope.

The two of them put out the fires and cleaned the dead as they waited for Leia and the families to arrive. To bury them here would be presumptuous. Many of the students had parents, siblings, who had come to visit frequently as Din had with Grogu in the earliest years.

When nothing was left to busy his hands with, Din sat at the edge of the smoldering temple, weeping into his knees. He couldn’t bear to think of what may have happened should Grogu not have traveled with him to Mandalore.

His exchange with Leia was brief, conveying what he’d seen, what he hadn’t. Her son was missing from the bodies as well… they could understand what this meant. She told him she’d felt it when he turned. She looked more devoid of joy than he had ever seen her.

As he and Grogu sped away to find her brother, he knew she gave a politician’s performance to the arriving families of the victims. Stoic and just warm enough to be inspiring, she could handle this in a way he never could, for his covert nor his citizens.

Tracking down a Jedi Master had been hard enough when Luke was a cocky young man, only barely caring to stay under the radar. A Jedi Master who didn’t want to be found would be even harder.

However, if Luke wanted to go missing, he had married the wrong man. Din was the Mand’alor, but he was a Bounty Hunter first, and he would never forget.

Determination in his heart, he set off, his son at his side, to regain their lost Clan Member.

“We’ll bring you home, cyar’ika.”

II.

Din Djarin wakes to an empty bed, the sheets cold although the air outside is scorching. He smells smoke. He dons his armor as quickly as he may have 30 years ago and rushes from his hut, finding Luke nowhere.

Children are screaming.

He runs through the stone and brick plaza, and when he sees the first body, he chokes on his breath. She’s already dead, a perfectly cauterized slice torn through her abdomen. She was one of their youngest.

He flings open each house, screaming for Luke and losing his hope with every child he sees slaughtered in their beds.

When he feels Grogu call to him through the Force, he nearly collapses. He’s at the temple. Din can’t run fast enough. More of the padawans lay motionless in the road, and he hopes to the Gods that someone better than him will protect them in the next world, as he has failed in this one.

The temple is aflame when he reaches it, two meek figures boldly lit in the dark night. Grogu, posed with his saber, and… and Ben.

It was Ben. Ben did this.

If he cares that Din is there, he doesn’t show it. He makes a move to approach Grogu (the kid must have got him good, he’s got a limp), but Din is there first.

He may no longer be Mand’alor, but Din has always been a fighter, a protector. And he’d damn himself a million times over before he lets a Sith touch his son.

As he had all his life, Din Djarin fights valiantly, with every tool in his arsenal and his family at the forefront of his mind.

When Luke wakes up, disoriented and bruised beneath the ruins of Ben’s hut, he finds everything he worked for gone. His students, his school, his legacy, and his order. In front of the ashes of the Jedi temple, lie his son and his husband. Even if he could have healed them from the brink of death, it was far too late.

III.

There were several points between Bo Katan finally mercy-challenging Din for the title of Mand’alor and the six years he had now spent with Luke in his self-inflicted exile where Din really believed he could change his husband’s mind.

He understands this shame. He’d failed to protect their students too. Some of those padawans had come from Mandalore. And they’d lost most of them. The few who survived were left in the hands of the Republic, now, or with their families.

Luke had called Leia and left immediately, with Din and Grogu hot on his trail. He hadn’t wanted them to come with him. He was undeserving, he was dangerous, he’d said. He had lost himself in his trauma and nearly destroyed one member of his family, what would stop him from destroying them? He’d holed himself away within a mountain, bringing down the cave opening to keep them out.

Din and Grogu sat outside, calling to him every once and a while. Grogu occasionally shifted a rock, but he didn’t open it. They both knew Luke needed to do that on his own. After a few days of punishing himself in the stale darkness, he came back out.

That first week on Ahch-To was hard. Luke didn’t talk much. He mostly paced, up and down the winding dirt pathways of the first Jedi temple. He talked to himself, cursed at the skies, and cried against the Seeing Stone.

By the second week, Luke allowed himself to sleep at his husband’s side. It was fitful and sparse, but it was familiar.

Din respected Luke’s wishes of anonymity. He sent brief messages to the others, keeping his location hidden but assuring them that he would bring Luke home soon.

A year passed, and those messages grew few and far between. By the third, they had stopped completely.

As he had learned from Luke and the ways of the Jedi how to embrace possibility, peace, the Force around all things, he had hoped that Luke learned some things from the Mandalorians too. How to get back up, even after you’ve been kicked. After you’ve failed. How to maintain your honor and your beliefs in spite of intense pain and loss.

Six years later, maybe that was a foolish thought. Luke was more than capable of pulling himself out of his pain, Din knew this. He’d seen him recover time and time again from his traumas and tribulations.

But six years later, Din finally understands that it was not a problem of ability, but a problem of will.

The only one punishing Luke was himself, and until he decides he no longer deserves to be guilty, no one was going to change his mind.

#ive been thinking about this for WEEKS.#star wars fic #dinluke fic #dinluke #grogu #the mandalorian #star wars #baby yoda #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djarin #fic #fanfiction #txt

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elionwriter · 3 years

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Since I'm not sure I want to write new, full Fanfictions right now (I'm already working on a Good Omens one) I'm just gonna post some Star Wars/ Dinluke headcanons and prompts and ask you guys if you want me to flesh them out.

PART 1:

Their meeting and the events on board of Moff Gideon's light cruiser change things quite radically for both Din Djarin and Luke Skywalker. On Din's side, without the child actively in his care he is left without a proper goal and without a proper path. He can't go back being a simple bounty hunter, mostly because the ones he did it for are gone...

So what now? He always knew he would do anything to bring Grogu's mission to a proper end but he never actually thought of what would happen after. Nor did he immagine that it would leave him so shattered, broken and lonely.

Is it stubborn denial that his business with the child is over that makes him investigate further about the matter? A part of him wants to believe that yes, yes it is, but something about it just doesn't sit right with him. As Dr. Pershing is brought back as a prisoner to New Republic forces he is thoughtfully interrogated about his work and his part in the operations of the empirial cell. The man doesn't give his interrogators a hard time, answering everything as honestly as he can, but doesn't seem to know much afterall. Din can't help but feel somewhat sorry for him: he was taught cloning engineering by the last Kaminoans alive, apparently another species the Empire had decided were better off exterminated and forgotten after fulfilling their purpose. Except they hadn't, not completely, and now experts on the subject were even more rare than beskar. The Dr. was one of them and his knowledge and capacity was the only thing keeping him alive after the empirials sought him out. Whether or not he had any real sympathy for the imps was rather irrelevant and they were his one remaining shot at doing his actual job (there wasn't really a high demand for clones nowadays). He followed Moff Gideon's orders but he knew that the orders were actually coming from much higher up. Who was pulling the strings and what they ultimately wanted, he didn't know. They didn't trust him with those informations. All he knew was that they needed him to create a body with the kid's life expectancy and his M count. They had kidnapped and experimented on other force sensitive children but none of them seemed to have Grogu's qualities and were disposed of. When the guard told him to stand up to be brought back to his cell, the doctor looked at Din and asked "Is the child safe?" "Yes, he is." Answered the mandalorian and the other nodded exhausted "Good, that's good. Thank you." Din nodded back to him and watched him leave.

The only reason Din had been allowed to follow the interrogation was obviously Cara Dune, which had delivered Dr. Pershing and Gideon to the authorities. Cara was however busy talking with someone he didn't know, another woman, a very elegant and majestic one at that. He couldn't help but notice the friendly and intimate tone the conversation seemed to have. Cara later introduced her to him as senator Leia Organa -Solo, a legend of the Rebellion and the Princess of Aldeeran. Suddenly the two's steadyfast bond became very clear. Apparently, the Senator found the story about the two prisoners extremely distressing and had already "her best man" look into it. She spoke very kindly to Din and, as a true politician, thanked him for his services to the Republic. Din quickly changed subject and asked if Moff Gideon had revealed anything more useful than the doctor.

As expected, Gideon hadn't been as collaborative and hadn't spoken a word since he was brought in. Something in his demeanor, however, had definitely shifted and below the ever guarded and secure facade there was worry. 'That's the face of a man in deep shit! We aren't the ones he's scared of though, one can only guess what makes a guy like him fret like that...' said Cara without bothering to hide her worry.

That was the reason why Din, in the little breakes he stole from the collaboration he had fallen into with Bo-Katan and the other mandalorians, kept searching for answers. The something or someone that scared Gideon had to mean danger. And if there was danger out for Grogu it would ALWAYS be his business.

That's when he realized who the princess' "best man" was. Luke Skywalker had apparently been searching for answers too and it's during one of these occasions that they newly meet. They have a common goal and pupil to protect but very diverse skill sets and areas of expertise. That's why on the hush-hush they agree to meet occasionally when either of them seems to have some new information or lead. Neither of them properly introduces to the other, there's really no need for that, and their partnership remains for some time elusive at best. Din is a naturally secretive and private man, the Jedi on the other hand, seems to have become it, a necessity rather than an inclination. Luke doesn't ever bring Grogu along nor does he mention him, after assuring the other that the child is safe and well. Din doesn't ask. And yet, the most restless one of the two about it is the Jedi. Just like Luke can feel Din's ever present affection and sense of duty toward Grogu, Din can sense that the other is very uneasy on the matter, like two parts of him are constantly battling over something. Again, he doesn't ask.

Despite all this, however, their relationship is far from strained. There is a mutual and instinctive trust and respect between them and it becomes quickly very clear that they work well together. During the nights they have to camp or during the trip in hyperspace the two talk. They discuss about their dying creeds, their principals and beliefs, fighting techniques and recount some of their old adventures. After a while, they open up enough to discuss of their situation and daily challenges and earnestly seek the other's opinion and advice on how to face them.

Din learns that Luke is still a figure on which the New Republic sometimes relies upon, even if only for extremely delicate situations; that he spent the last few years travelling throughout the galaxy looking for lost Jedi artifacts and knowledge, hoping to learn how to best bring the order back to life for new generations of force users (expecially his young nefew); that during said travels he always made a point to help those in need and right wrongs where he saw them; that he still found himself dealing with loose ends of the Empire.

On the other hand, Luke learns of Bo-Katan's quest to reclaim Mandalore; of Din's search for knowledge and history on a culture that should be his own but that he progressively realizes he knows very little about; of his uncertainty on where he stands both with his creed and his peers and the aggravation of the dark saber which he is currently the wielder and protector of.

They feel for each other. No, they understand each other. Even as words completely fail to reveal the most critical parts of these conversations. What they do understand is this: nothing seems to make anymore any fuc****ng sense in their lives! That everything was much more simple when they were just a bounty hunter and a farm boy.

It's not that Din doesn't want to find other Mandalorians and help his people. He and Bo-katan may not always see eye to eye, but they both made extremely clear how loyal they are to their creed. It's just that Din doesn't know anymore if he still has a right to that title and to the armour he wears, if everything he was taught was a lie or not. He broke a lot of rules for the child and can't decide if that is for the best or not.

Luke, on the other hand, can't decide what to make of the Jedi teachings and contradictions he has collected. How can he act like expected and pass on lessons he himself isn't really sold on. It was his family and his ties that kept him alive and safe from the dark when facing the Emperor and his father, but it was also attachments and the Jedi's taboos that had damned his father to begin with. Should he encourage the complete detachment the old texts preached about, should he too talk only of light and cast a shadow on everything that didn't fall in that limited range of the force? But most importantly: should he keep his young apprentice from his beloved father and pointedly ignore the warm flame the mandalorian had effortlessly lit up in him?

Luke can't help but notice that when he slips and gets a bit too close, a bit too intimate and touchy with the other man, the mandalorian doesn't push him away and seems to answer this boldness with an awkward, shy breathlessness. While a part of him knows, Luke doesn't allow himself to hope or acknowledge that flicker in his chest might be mutual.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian #the child #grogu #din and luke #din and grogu #luke skywalker #star wars #drapple #my prompts #otp #leia organa #cara dune #moff gideon

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years

Text

is this what love feels like? part one

Rating: T

Warnings: Some yearning, softness, and kisses!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: So, this is my Secret Santa Fic for @meshlamando!!! I apologize that it’s so late, but I really wanted this to be perfect!!! It ended up being longer than I planned, but I’m really happy with it, and I hope you are too!! (I’m not opposed to writing a part two that’s a little more M rated, if you want???)

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what y’all think!!!

The sound of approaching spacecraft caused you to look up from where you were gardening, and your eyes narrowed as you saw an X-Wing, followed by a Tie Fighter of all things. The Tie Fighter didn’t seem to be chasing the X-Wing, and there were no shots being fired from the canons, but you were still on guard, your hand going to the lightsaber that hung at your waist from years of habit, even though you’d not used it since the end of the Clone Wars.

Suddenly, your comlink beeped, and a familiar voice crackled from the tiny device.

“This is Luke Skywalker, requesting permission to land for both my own ship and my friends’. We bring no ill will, we merely wish to speak with you, Master Jedi.”

You rolled your eyes at the stiff tone, pulling the comlink off your belt and answering. “Skywalker, who exactly are you friends with that they’re flying a Tie Fighter? You have permission to land, but we will be having words, young man.”

A meek “yes ma’am, Master Jedi,” crackled back at you, before the comlink went silent. You watched as the two ships landed in the clearing not far from your small homestead.

Standing, you walked towards the ships to greet their pilots, your hands at your sides, not quite touching your saber, but close enough that you could use it if needed.

You watched as Luke disembarked from his X-Wing, but your eyes were focused on the Tie Fighter. Luke had said it was a friend, but the kid was still young, and it wasn’t impossible for him to be fooled, or coerced into befriending a potential enemy.

To your surprise, a Mandalorian disembarked. You’d dealt with a handful of Mandalorians in the past, but you were surprised to see one operating a Tie Fighter, considering the role the Empire had played in the Siege of Mandalore.

The two of them walked towards you, followed by the R2 unit that seemed tied to the Skywalker family. You could still remember the bond Anakin had shared with the little astromech droid, before–

Well, best not to think about that particular part of your past.

You crossed your arms, staring Luke down as he arrived in front of you, causing the young Jedi to shift nervously. The Mandalorian stood somewhat awkwardly a few feet behind him.

The staring match only lasted for a few moments before Luke broke. “I know you told me that you haven’t used the Force in years, and that you wouldn’t hear of taking on another Padawan after what happened, but–”

You sighed. “No, Luke. Whatever it is you want, no. I’m not a Jedi, not anymore. I can’t help you.”

Luke held his hands up pleadingly. “No, wait! Please, just hear me out.”

You sighed again. “Luke, I know you probably mean well, but I can’t take on another Padawan. I still have nightmares about what must be happening to poor Grogu in the Empire’s hands, I–”

“Wait, Grogu?”

The Mandalorian spoke suddenly, stepping forward, one hand resting on the strap of the bag that crossed over his chest. You raised an eyebrow, confused at his reaction.

“Yes. I had a Padawan during the Clone Wars. His name was Grogu. Unfortunately, I’d been sent off of Coruscant on a mission without him when Order 66 took place, and by the time I’d gotten back, the Empire had taken him and killed all the other Jedi. I have no idea what happened to him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, he–”

Luke began to speak, but he trailed off as you watched, shocked, as the Mandalorian pulled his bag in front of him, and seated inside was–

“Grogu?!”

Your mouth dropped open as the little green skinned alien child cooed, reaching his tiny arms out towards you, a wide smile on his face. The Mandalorian slowly lifted Grogu out of the bag, and you stumbled forward, stretching your arms out to take him into your arms.

Grogu squealed as he was brought into your embrace, pressing his little claws against your cheeks, and you were overcome with feelings of happiness and joy and belonging that weren’t your own. You pressed your forehead to Grogu’s tears streaming down your cheeks as the little one communicated with you the only way he could, showing you how much he missed you, how happy he was to see you, reassuring you that he was safe, and that he’d found a father in the beskar-clad Mandalorian.

You finally looked up to see Luke and the Mandalorian standing still in front of you. Eyes locked onto the Mandalorian, the first question on your mind burst forth from your lips.

“Where did you find him?”

The Mandalorian shuffled awkwardly. “He was on Arvala-7, surrounded by guards. The Empire wanted him. I don’t know where he was before that.”

You frowned at the cautious tone in the Mandalorian’s voice, but you shrugged it off, too overcome with relief and joy at Grogu’s safety. You looked at Luke, understanding washing over you. “You want me to take him on as my Padawan again.”

Luke nodded, relieved. “I’d take him, but I already have multiple other students, and Grogu is stronger than all of them. None of my students have had any formal training, but Grogu has. It would be better for him to have one-on-one training that I can’t offer. And–”

Luke trailed off, looking nervous. Sighing, and shifting Grogu to your hip, you frowned at him. “Spit it out, boy. What is it?”

“He’s grown extremely attached to his chosen father. It would be dangerous to separate them, and I worry about the draw of the Dark side on the little one. So...”

You closed your eyes, remembering the last Jedi who let attachment rule over his actions. It was something that couldn’t be allowed to be repeated, at any cost.

Looking at the Mandalorian, you saw his helmet bowed slightly, as though he was expecting to be scolded. You could feel the sorrow radiating off of him, even though he was trying to push it down. You realized he was expecting to be parted from Grogu, and your heart broke. You’d always been against the Council’s policy of taking children from their parents at a young age and forbidding contact, and with the case of Anakin, his separation had proved as a catalyst for his fall to the Dark side.

“Mandalorian,” you said calmly, waiting for him to focus on you. “Your son needs training.” You noticed that he flinched at the word son, and you felt a wave of shame that wasn’t your own. “But it would be a mistake to separate the two of you. I have spare quarters that you can move into, while I train Grogu. It would be beneficial for the both of you, I should think.”

Unsurprisingly, the Mandalorian protested. “I put him in danger, I shouldn’t–”

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Though I have not fought in many years, I still hold the rank of Jedi Master. I am skilled with my lightsaber, and I am sure you are well trained as well. I’ve never met a Mandalorian that could not hold their own in a fight. Besides.” You gestured to the hilt that hung on his belt. “You carry the Darksaber. I can train you to fight with it, which will add another layer of protection over Grogu while he is learning control.”

Your stern tone seemed to shock him back to awareness, and the Mandalorian straightened at your words. You nodded to Luke. “I will take him on as my Padawan again.” Then, you turned to the ships behind the two men. “But that kriffing Tie Fighter has to go.”

***

The three of you had settled quite nicely into a routine. Your mornings were occupied with meditation and basic training in Force manipulation with Grogu. He was too young to use a lightsaber, so you focused on control over emotions and his other abilities in the Force, such as mental shielding, telekinesis, barriers, and precognition. Grogu had shown aptitude for each of these years earlier, and you weren’t surprised that his skills had grown, although not as quickly as they would have, had he been continuously trained.

Your afternoons were spent with the Mandalorian while Grogu napped, his little body worn out from the intense training that he’d not done for close to twenty years.

While the Mandalorian was well versed in many types of fighting, the Darksaber was far closer to a lightsaber than any other weapon he’d ever handled, and so, he needed training to be able to handle it.

While you had training in most of the forms, you were the most adept at Shien/Djem So. However, it was far too complex a form for the Mandalorian, and it didn’t suit his needs. He likely would not be using the Darksaber in regular combat, so you resolved to try and teach him the basics of the first two forms: Shii-Cho, and Makashi. Shii-Cho would help him if he were facing a large number of opponents, while Makashi would help him avoid being disarmed, and thus, losing the Darksaber. Even though he insisted he hadn’t wanted the Darksaber, he grudgingly admitted that it would be a useful weapon to protect Grogu.

Every afternoon, the two of you would move into your small backyard, dressed in simple training clothes. The Mandalorian had argued that it would be better for him to train in his beskar, but you had shut him down quickly. He needed to learn the forms unencumbered first, before then practicing with the added weight of his armour.

“There’s a reason Jedi wear robes and cloth, Mandalorian. Yes, our use of the Force can offset the need for armour, but it’s far easier to move agilely and dodge blaster bolts or other attacks, because our clothes allow us that freedom of movement. You need to learn the forms first, and then slowly acclimate to moving with the armour.”

The Mandalorian clearly didn’t like it, but he humored you. The only caveat he insisted on was his helmet, which you obliged. While his field of vision was reduced, he’d spent so much of his life in the helmet that he automatically adjusted for the loss, so the helmet was not a hindrance.

The two of you spent months training in the forms, and slowly, but surely, the Mandalorian was growing more confident in this fighting style. He’d started wearing some of his beskar, but it was taking longer than he’d wanted for him to be able to fight fluidly in his full beskar’gam.

Inevitably, the two of you had grown closer. It was bound to happen with two adults living in close quarters, spending hours every day training together, but it still surprised you how comfortable life had become.

You’d been alone for years, ever since the Great Purge, and it was clear the Mandalorian was not used to spending his time around another being. But slowly, the two of you had grown used to co-existing, and you slowly learned more about your quiet companion.

He had a wicked sharp tongue and an incredibly dry wit, and you often found yourself bantering with him over the littlest things. He grew less stiff, less aloof around you, and an unexpected by-product of that was touch.

It took you awhile to realize it, because the touches were so fleeting. But once you started to take notice, it surprised you just how tactile the Mandalorian had become. For a man who had gone most of his life without touch, he often initiated it, a hand on the small of your back as he moved behind you, a gentle touch on your arm as he watched you train Grogu, and other seemingly innocent gestures. He didn’t seem to realize he was doing it, however.

At first, the simple touches were just another part of your daily life. You told yourself it was normal for two adults living together to be comfortable touching each other, that it was simply how friends acted.

But as the months wore on, you began to realize it was more than that. Oh, so much more.

It wasn’t until you had a particularly vivid and risque dream that you realized just how far you’d fallen. You lay in bed, skin sweaty and heart racing as you tried to clear your mind of the images of the Mandalorian taking you in practically every manner imaginable. You were quite frankly surprised at how inventive your mind was, considering you’d held to your vow of celibacy from your time as a Jedi, even long after the Order had been destroyed. The burning in your core and the slickness between your thighs told you that you were not as satisfied with a life of celibacy as you’d thought.

It took far too long for you to calm yourself enough to fall asleep, and the next morning, you had to use your decades of experience shielding your emotions to avoid giving anything away to the Mandalorian.

Now that you knew the effect his presence had on you, you were hyper-aware of every interaction, every touch, every word shared between the two of you. It became a challenge every day to shove down your growing feelings for your companion. Little did you know, he was doing the same.

***

“If you sit out here much longer, verd’ika, you’ll freeze.”

You turned to see the Mandalorian leaning against the doorframe, looking out at where you were seated on the edge of your porch. He had a blanket tucked under one arm, and as he came to sit next to you, he held it out for you to take.

“And yet, you would never let that happen, hmm?”

You wrapped the thick fabric around your shoulders, smiling softly in thanks. The Mandalorian was dressed simply, the only piece of beskar he wore was the helmet. He sat close, your thighs touching as he stared out at the night sky with you.

“What would I do without you ordering me around every day?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Don’t be cheeky, Mando. It doesn’t suit you.”

He chuckled softly, and not for the first time, you wondered what his laugh might sound like without the crackling of the modulator.

The two of you sat in silence for a long time, before he spoke again.

“May I ask you a question?”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him, not missing the way he held his head straight forward, strategically avoiding looking at you. “You don’t have to ask if you can ask me a question, Mandalorian. What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “The first Jedi I met, Ahsoka Tano, told me that attachment was dangerous. That she wouldn’t train Grogu, she was too worried about him falling to the Dark side. What did she mean? How do I know if he’s on that path? What if I caused it?”

You were taken aback by the worry and terror in his voice, the pure fear of a parent terrified that they’ve done irreparable harm to their child. You turned full to the side, your leg pressed tight against his, and you gently touched his arm to get his attention.

“Mando, look at me.” You waited for him to slowly turn to you, and you could see in the slump of his shoulders and the tilt of his helmet how worried he was. “You have done nothing wrong.”

He started to protest, but you squeezed his arm, cutting him off. “No, listen to me. I had to watch as a man I called friend fell to the Dark side. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I know now what all went wrong. I’ve seen what draws people to the Dark side, I’ve felt the pull myself. And I know Grogu has as well.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet dipped even lower, and without thinking, you cupped the cold metal, where his cheek would be, lifting his head and forcing him to look at you. “But you make him stronger. The Jedi always preached that attachment is wrong, and that it leads to the Dark side, but they were wrong. Obsession is wrong, but the love you have for Grogu, and the love he has for you are not putting him in danger of falling.”

There was silence for a moment before the Mandalorian spoke, his voice so quiet, you had to strain to hear him. “He... he loves me?”

You felt tears fill your eyes at the utter surprise and disbelief in the Mandalorian’s voice, and you immediately grasped both sides of his helmet, keeping his gaze secure on you.

“You are his father, Mandalorian. In every sense of the word, except biological. He trusts you implicitly, and he knows you will always come for him. You are his anchor, and he loves you with everything he has. Trust me.”

You waited for your companion to nod, before you sat back. You’d had no idea his insecurities ran this deep, but now that you knew, you would be sure to counteract them at every opportunity.

***

It had been almost a year since the Mandalorian and Grogu had begun their training with you. After months of peace, it almost seemed inevitable that something would happen, you just didn’t know what.

It was in the middle of a training session with the Mandalorian, when disaster struck. You had no warning, no time to prepare when suddenly, your mental barriers were attacked violently. Falling to your knees, you clutched at your head, immediately trying to strengthen your shields, while also extending that protection over Grogu and the Mandalorian, hiding them from whatever, or whoever was searching.

Faintly, you could hear the Mandalorian yelling your name, but you were focused on keeping the dark presence out of your mind. Like a battering ram, the attack beat against your shields, the dirty and evil presence sending shivers down your spine. Your limbs were trembling from the strain of your muscles tensing under the pain, and you shook from the strain of shielding under such a brutal assault.

There was a sharp, piercing pain, as though someone had thrown a vibroblade directly into the center of your forehead. A scream left your lips as your hands dug into the soft dirt, and you gathered as much of your energy as possible, shoving the presence back and away from your mind.

When another attack didn’t come, you slumped over, relief tinged by exhaustion and pain. You weakly opened your eyes to see the Mandalorian kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering helplessly in front of you. You thought he might be saying something, but you couldn’t hear through the rushing sound in your ears.

You felt something wet on your face, and you shakily brushed your fingers under your nose, only to pull your hand away and see blood. You blinked weakly, your head aching, and as you looked at the Mandalorian, your vision went black, and you collapsed.

***

“Verd’ika? Verd’ika, can you hear me?”

The voice was faint, almost like you were underwater. You tried to turn towards the voice, but something held you still. It took longer than usual for you to come back to awareness, and you winced at the pain in both your head and your limbs.

You slowly came to realize you weren’t lying on your bed, but instead against a warm, firm body. Your face was pressed into the warm skin of someone’s neck, and there was a strong arm around your waist, the other cradling your head. Your hand was laying against the soft fabric of a black training shirt, and you began to realize you were laying against the Mandalorian.

“Wha–What happened?” You whispered, hesitant to move out of his comforting embrace. It became clear he didn’t want that either when his arms tightened around you.

“You passed out. You were bleeding from your nose, your whole body was shaking. I thought you were having a seizure. The kid was terrified, and he wouldn’t leave. You–You stopped breathing,” here, the Mandalorian’s voice broke. “You weren’t breathing, I–we thought you died.”

You could feel him trembling as he held you even tighter, and you nuzzled further into his neck, breathing him in, shamelessly relishing in the close contact. He seemed to draw comfort from your closeness as well, and you felt his lips press against the top of your head. Wait–

Sucking in a breath, you squeezed your eyes shut. “Wait, Mando, your helmet–”

To your surprise, he shushed you, holding you impossibly closer. “I know,” he murmured, his hand rubbing soothingly along your back. “It’s okay.”

“But your creed–”

“You haven’t seen my face. I trust you. I know you won’t look. I just needed–” He trails off sheepishly, but you know the end to the sentence he leaves hanging in the air. “What happened, verd’ika? I’ve never seen you in that much pain before.”

Sighing, you relaxed further into the Mandalorian’s arms. “Something, or someone was trying to invade my mind. They tried to force their way past my mental barriers. I was able to shield the three of us and keep them out, but it was difficult.”

“It was painful to watch.”

“Mando, I–”

“Din.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out what he meant. “I’m sorry?”

“My name is Din Djarin.”

Your eyes suddenly opened wide, and if his face hadn’t been bare, then you would have jerked up to look at him in shock. “Wh–What?”

His lips pressed against the top of your head for a long moment. “You almost died, not even knowing my name. I don’t regret a lot of things, but I would have regretted never telling you my name.”

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, and you could feel your cheeks beginning to burn. This was unfamiliar, uncharted territory, but Maker, you didn’t care.

“Will you close your eyes, verd’ika?”

Your eyes automatically slid shut, even as you frowned at the question. “Why?”

“Just humor me, please.”

You nodded, lifting your head from it’s place on the Man–Din’s shoulder, showing him that your eyes were closed. You felt his bare fingers gently brush against your cheek, before suddenly, his lips were softly pressing against yours. He swallowed your gasp of surprise, cupping your cheek as he gingerly kissed you, like you were made of glass.

You were shocked still for a moment, but just as he was about to pull away, worry and concern coming off him in waves, you gripped his shoulder to pull yourself up just enough so that you could keep your lips sealed to his.

Now that you were an active participant, Din grew less cautious, guiding your head to the side and deepening the kiss, his tongue running along the seam of your lips, coaxing your mouth open.

A soft whimper left your lips as he explored your mouth, tasting you. He grew more bold with every swipe of his tongue against yours, teeth nipping your lower lip, and hand stroking your cheek.

His kisses were deep, breathtaking and reverent. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d been dying of thirst and you were the water that could keep him alive. You felt safe, warm, at home in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands clutched you close, and even when you had to pull away to breathe, he didn’t let you get too far. His every exhale was the air you inhaled.

“Ner verd’ika, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

He breathed the words against your lips, and you responded in kind.

“I love you too.”

Permanent Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @perropascal, @mxndoscyarika, @hayley-the-comet, @phoenixhalliwell, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @pedroepascal, @roxypeanut, @rynadjarin-reading, @anerdydragon, @justanotherblonde23, @rosiefridayrogersunday, @meshlamando, @sunsetmando, @bucketbunny, @mudhornchronicles, @huliabitch, @nerdypinupcrystal, @blackmarketmummy, @mudhornchronicles

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#secret santa fic #for you #din djarin x reader fic #force sensitive reader #the mandalorian #au #kind of #alternate ending to the season finale #gift fic #soft #fluff #some yearning #kissing #Din Djarin #grogu

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purplesauris · 4 years

Text

Now Comes The Tide

Din is very unused to being around someone who's mastered the Force, and who seems intent on bothering him with it constantly. Said Jedi seems wholly unaware.

I am out of CONTROL and no one can stop me

Read it on AO3 here!

The first time that Din had felt the power that radiated off of Luke he'd been overwhelmed. It was such a foreign concept to him, for someone to feel, for all intents and purposes, like he was everywhere. The worst part was that Luke didn't even seem to realize the way Din shivered whenever Luke used the Force, the way he felt each grip of his armor as he was sent flying back like the gentlest of caresses. Din had no clue if he was supposed to feel this way, to feel so intimately the pull of Luke's power, but it left his nerves frazzled when the onslaught of Luke's attention never stopped.

It was worse when Din took his armor off- there was no protective layer between him and the outside world, and every time Luke walked past him or reached out Din's toes curled in his boots. The same feeling didn't apply to having seen Ahsoka or Grogu use the Force- it seemed inherently tied to Luke somehow, as if the way Luke manipulated the Force resounded so deeply within Din that he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. It was very rapidly becoming a problem, one that Din didn't know how to solve without breaking down and shouting at Luke to keep his hands to himself.

So he'd taken his supply run a week early, if only to hide away in his ship where the only pressure around him was the constant ebb and flow of recycled air filling the cabin. There was only one other person he knew who knew even a smidgeon about Jedi aside from Ahsoka herself, and Din did not fancy tracking her down to ask stupid questions that she would only smirk at, the same way she had when Din had asked about Grogu so long ago. So he went to the next best source- a bounty hunter who had captured Luke no less than two times, and was grinning, smug as can be when Din came trudging into his base on Tatooine.

"Mand'alor."

"Fett." Din looked around the room he'd descended into, taking in the blaster marks on the wall that showed him obvious signs of a recent fight. "Redecorating?"

"Adds a certain charm." Din snorts, as if that's what you'd call it, and Boba’s voice is amused, that same grin on his face. “You’re a week early.”

“We were running low.”

“On patience?” Din tenses, trying to hide the way his fingers twitch, but Boba is observant and he only chuckles. “What did your Jetii do now?”

Din glances at Fennec, perched on the arm of Boba’s throne, the woman’s eyebrows going up for a moment before she sighs, rolling her eyes. She rises from her spot, taking her rifle with her as she disappears somewhere deeper within the facility to give them privacy. “What do you know about him and his… powers?”

“Not much.” Boba leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against the arm in a slow, steady drumming that puts Din on edge. “He’s strong, a skilled fighter.”

“I know that. What I don’t know is-” Din cuts himself off, gritting his teeth, and Boba tilts his head. “I don’t know why I’m- reacting.”

“And you came here... To ask me?” Boba talks slowly, as if parsing out why Din would want to come here in the first place. Boba scrutinizes him with new eyes, tilting his head in such a distinctly familiar way that Din feels like he could be looking in a mirror. “You don’t react to Grogu, do you?”

“No. Not- this way.” Boba laughs then, shaking his head and covering his face with a gloved hand. Din feels as if the laughter is directly aimed at him, more than at the situation, and Din clenches his hands into fists. "I didn't come to-"

"I know why you came, Mand'alor, but I don't have answers. You'll have to ask Skywalker." Boba rises from his throne at last, broad form filling the room as he steps heavily down off of the dais. "Has he told you anything about being force sensitive?"

"I'm not force sensitive." Din shoots back, frowning when Boba inclines his head, brows raising. It only serves to fuel Boba's amusement, and he sighs heavily, clapping Din on the back.

"Go home, Mand'alor. Secretive as he may be, you've got the last Jetii wrapped around your pinky finger. Use that." Boba's expression has turned serious, and Din scowls within his helmet. "Make sure you get supplies though, or he'll think you were running away."

"Fuck off, Fett." Boba's booming laughter follows Din all the way back to the Razor Crest. Boba is right, though, of course he is, and Din really did mean for it to be a supply run, so he works through it like he always does. He hunts Luke's tea down, finds something that looks fluffy and soft for Grogu to play with, and takes a few bounties just to work his frustration out.

So what if they come back a bit more bruised than usual? So what if Din is a bit more silent when he drops them off and collects his credits? Cara and Karga know better than to comment on his foul mood, the former instead taking him out to the lava flats and affectionately beating the shit out of him. Din hasn't had a hand to hand fight without Luke's powers getting in the way in so long that fighting Cara now seems slow- predictable. Cara seems surprised by his newfound skill, but still manages to toss him like a sack of grain, Din hitting the ground and staying there, laughing like a fool. Cara collapses on the ground next to him, bumping her shoulder against his pauldron. Her chest rises with her own uneven breaths, broken by her laughs, and she's still chuckling when she talks.

"Remember Sorgan?"

"Mhmm."

"That widow was super, super into you."

"She was nice." Din agrees, Cara snorting next to him and continuing her thought.

"Why does everyone you meet fall in love with you? Is it the fact that you can fight?"

"You in love with me, Dune?"

"Very funny, Mando." Din snickers quietly, turning his head when he feels Cara shift next to him. He finds her watching him, eyes narrowed, and Din sits up, suddenly feeling vulnerable laying on the ground the way he is. Cara doesn't move, watching him as a smile grows over her face. "Have you ever fallen in love? Before Skywalker?"

"If I say yes, will you believe me?"

"Not a bit." Din bobs his head in a nod, as if that makes sense, and Cara sits up, smile fading into something softer. "He's good for you. You laugh more than you used to."

“Maybe you’re just funnier.” Cara laughs, but Din can’t deny that he feels… Happier. With Grogu and Luke he feels like he has a purpose, like he’s more than a faceless bounty hunter scraping by. He has a home, a clan to go back to, and that thought sobers him. He’s never dreaded being away from Luke, enjoyed being able to go out and get what they didn’t have, but he misses him. It’s an itch he can’t scratch, the lonely ache in his chest when he’s gone, but it makes going home, seeing the look on Luke’s face that much sweeter. Which he should be doing, he realizes. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too. Duty calls.” Cara rises to her feet first, holding out a hand and hoisting Din to his feet. Din tightens his grip on her hand, standing there for a moment. Cara grips his hand tighter in response, smiling and letting him go when his grip loosens. She shoos him off in the direction of the port while she heads the opposite way, and Din’s trip back home is spent in quiet contemplation.

He still has no idea what is going on with him, with Luke’s power, but there aren’t any other options other than talking to him about it. It shouldn’t seem like such a daunting task, but how do you tell the man you’re very much in love with that his powers do weird things to you without ruining the relationship? Din supposes he could just be straight forward about it, like he is everything else, but his cheeks burn already just thinking of the admission. Din will just have to buck up and face that conversation when the time comes, because the planet they call home is rapidly approaching, and soon Din is too busy with landing the ship and unloading to think much more about it.

Luke is waiting for him at the edge of the city, Grogu balanced on his shoulder, little hands in his hair as Luke floats rocks in a circle above his head. Din’s heart goes fuzzy at the sight, and the closer he gets the more the feeling of Luke washes over him. It’s a pleasant, buzzing warmth under his skin, one that Din didn’t realize he’d missed, and he adjusts the heavy pack against his back.

“Did you see me come in?”

“Sensed you. Everything go okay?” Din hums noncommittally, closing his eyes when Luke reaches out to cup the back of his neck, drawing him in and pressing his forehead to the cool metal of Din’s helmet. This close with Luke’s fingers on the back of his neck, twitching in time with the rocks orbiting them, Din feels an echo of what Luke must feel all the time. An unearthly, groaning abyss of something around him, permeating the air in layers that never quite let up. Din steps back, Luke’s hand falling away, and he can breathe again, eyes opening in time to see a curious expression flit over Luke’s face.

“Hungry?” Din asks, desperately wanting to shatter the fragile thing lingering in the air.

“For your cooking? I think I could settle.” Luke grins, wincing when Grogu pulls his hair, gurgling happily and reaching for his father. Din chucks him gently under the chin, voice fond.

“Yeah kid, me too. Let’s go home.”

-*-

Din really, really doesn't know how to start this particular conversation. Grogu is down for the night, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and Din has finally let himself somewhat relax. He’s got Luke up on the counter, or rather, Luke had seated himself on the counter while Din cleaned up, and Din hadn’t let him down since. Din leans into the fingers in his hair, eyes closed as Luke trails kisses over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. The feeling of Luke’s hands or lips on his face is a novelty he still hasn’t gotten over, and Din can tell he’s grinning when Luke bumps their foreheads together.

“You’re thinking.” Luke prods, Din leaning harder into his touches. “Have been since you got home.”

“Your jetii mind powers tell you that?” Luke snorts, pressing a soft kiss to Din’s mouth before cupping his cheeks, thumbs pressing lightly under his chin to tip Din’s head back. Din blinks his eyes open, locking eyes with Luke, who wears a soft frown on his face.

“They don’t have to. What’s eating you, Din?”

“Nothing.” Din’s stomach twists uneasily at the sad twitch of Luke’s lips, but he leans forward, kissing him without thinking and smiling when Luke softens under his hands, a hand sliding into Din's hair to hold him close. Din doesn’t pull away to talk, letting his lips brush against Luke’s with every word. “I have… to figure out how to say it.”

He expects Luke to protest, or argue, but Luke hums against his lips and smiles. “Okay.” Din makes a noise, a question, and Luke’s smile grows wider. “We’re adults, Din, I can wait until you’re ready to talk. For now, how about we spar?”

“It’s pitch dark outside.”

“That’s never stopped us before.” Luke points out, and well… He does have a point. Anticipation curls in Din’s gut at the thought, and he takes a step back, letting Luke slide off the counter, straightening his clothes and brushing a hand through his hair to let it fall back over his forehead. Din grabs his helmet on the way to the door, slipping it on and swallowing so his ears will pop as the pressure regulates. He allows himself a moment to pop in and check on Grogu, but he’s sleeping away, clutching the new toy that Din had brought back with him.

Din shivers when cold, firm pressure curls around him, and he stalks outside where Luke waits just inside the treeline, wagging his fingers mockingly and grinning when Din draws his blade. He’s used to the intense, fevered glow of the darksaber by now, and the green glow from Luke’s saber is a welcome sight, even muted by his visor. Din walks in a slow, even circle around Luke, watching and waiting for the telltale roll of Luke’s wrist right before he gets serious. He watches, and he waits, shivering when the feeling of Luke’s power swells, latching onto him with singular focus as Luke lunges for where he’s about to take a step.

Din is expecting that, though, darksaber already in place to intercept the blow, and Luke’s eyes flicking up to his as sparks rain from their blades. Din pushes back, shoves into Luke’s space and pushes him onto the defensive. It’s probably a mistake to do so so soon after their match has begun, but Din is fueled by the fire that rages through him when Luke fights, eyes flicking back and forth, tracking Luke’s movements as their sabers meet over and over again in showers of sparks that sizzle against his chest piece.

Luke pushes harder now, using his powers to throw Din off balance, to test his limits of what he can fight against while trying to gain the upper hand at the same time. Din’s hands are steady around the hilt of his saber even when the rest of him shivers and twitches with each brush of Luke’s power. It’s easy for Din to lose himself in the feelings of fighting, the shuffling of his feet and the way his heart pounds in his chest as he leans back, narrowly avoiding a lightsaber to the side of the head.

“Watch it.” He barks, glaring when Luke grins sheepishly and adjusts his angle. His helmet can take as much as his armor can, but his neck is semi exposed and Din doesn’t want to lose his head.

“You can stop, if you want.” Din growls at that, because that isn’t what he meant, but the firm hand of Luke’s power clamps down on him, dragging him forward as Din brings his sword up, letting it hiss and spit against Luke’s shield as Luke’s hand brushes over his hip. The touch is quick, fleeting and gone, but Luke’s handprint lingers like a brand, and when Din tries to take a step back, jerking against Luke’s influence his power surges up around Din, raking over his skin in fluid waves of ecstasy. A gasp escapes him before he can help it, loud and raw, and Luke’s lightsaber dies out abruptly. A hand wraps around Din’s, thumb finding the button on the hilt and retracting the blade of the darksaber as Din’s head empties out. “Din-”

Another wave of feeling cascades over Din then and he takes a step back, sweeping Luke’s legs out from under him in one smooth movement. Luke goes down with a shout and Din is on top of him before he can move. His beskar digs unforgivingly into the soft parts of Luke’s body but Luke doesn’t seem to care, struggling against him, fingers digging into the padding of Din’s hips. Din presses down, trying to pin his hands, but Luke’s legs come up behind him, hips shoving up and throwing Din off balance. Din topples forward, hands slapping the dirt on either side of Luke’s head as Luke’s arms wrap around him, rolling them over and over until Din’s head is spinning and Luke’s got his back pressed into the dirt.

Din struggles against Luke’s hold, knowing that they’re just about as easily matched as they can be, but phantom hands clamp down on his ribs, keeping him in place as Luke moves, shoving Din’s legs apart in favor of fitting himself between them. Luke stares, blue eyes wide and dark in the low light filtering through the trees, and Din’s back arches uselessly off the ground when Luke’s power flushes through him, heat pooling between his legs and lips parting as he chokes on a keening cry of Luke’s name. The lock on Din’s helmet pops hard enough for Din to feel it, and Din rips it off himself, pulling in huge, gulping breaths of air as Luke leans over him.

Din hardly has a chance to breathe between the onslaught of phantom touches tracing every inch of him and Luke kissing him senseless, but he doesn’t care. He buries a gloved hand into Luke’s hair and twists the strands between his fingers, lapping into his mouth and groaning when Luke presses his hips forward. “Luke-”

“That’s what you were thinking about.” Luke breathes, pulling back just enough to look at the way Din’s cheeks flush.

“It’s not-”

“Don’t lie, Din, it doesn’t feel nearly as nice as this does.” Luke rolls his hips forward, drawing another gasp from Din’s lips and grinning when Din presses his thighs tight to Luke’s sides. “Is that why you left early?”

“Yes- no- you won’t stop touching me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Luke tilts his head, considering, but Din’s hand drops to grab weakly at his hip, tugging him forward, and Luke rolls his hips again, giving Din just an instant of friction.

“I can- can feel whenever you- do your magic thing. It's distracting." Luke huffs out a laugh, and the reprimand that it isn’t magic is on the tip of his tongue, Din can tell, but Luke tilts his head suddenly. His brow furrows just a bit, determined, and Din’s hips buck up off of the forest floor when concentrated feeling brushes over his cock. Din's breath goes funny almost immediately, odd, hiccupy gasps, and his fingers dig into Luke's hip. “Luke-”

“So sensitive.” The Jedi purrs, leaning down and kissing along the edge of his jaw. Din arches his neck, whimpering, and Luke latches on, sucking soft marks into the sweat lined skin Din bears for him. “Should have told me about this before, Din. What fun we could have had.”

“Telling you now-” Din’s thigh jerks, and Luke laughs huskily as Din’s breath chokes off in his throat, whole body going taut as he comes. Din can feel Luke smiling against the column of his throat, but whatever control Luke is exerting only gets worse, dragging along the sensitive bud until Din is writhing, trying to both get away from the sensation and chase it. “I need- I-”

“I’ve got you. Tell me what you want, Din, I’ll give it to you.” Din brings both hands up to grab at Luke’s hair, dragging him into a wet, messy kiss that he can only half focus on. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants past the hot, insistent ache between his thighs, but Luke has never truly needed words when Din wants something bad enough. Luke groans against his lips, kissing him hard before pulling back, pressing their foreheads together in an effort to get Din to concentrate. Brown eyes so dark they look black bore into blue, and Luke’s eyelids flutter before he looks back down at Din. “You’re sure?”

Din nods frantically, tilting his head to nip at Luke’s lower lip, and Luke snatches at Din’s hip just to have something to hold on to. The first phantom press of Luke’s power against Din’s hole has Din groaning, and when Luke allows that feeling to press in, to slowly and surely spread him wide Din’s head falls back against the ground with a thud. His whole body quakes under Luke’s, hips rolling down uselessly into the sensation of Luke using his powers for something decidedly inappropriate. Luke pauses, breath shuddering from his throat, and Din moans, muffled when Luke kisses him, trapping the sound between the two of them as Luke’s hand draws back, the phantom feeling drawing back as well.

It makes Din whine, being empty, but then Luke is pressing back in, deeper and more insistent and Din sees stars. Heat rockets through him with each shove of Luke’s power opening him up and keeping him full, and Din loses track of time completely. It’s a feeling he’s never had before, being so completely full yet knowing that Luke isn’t moving a muscle. It’s too hot for him to feel any kind of shame, and he groans when Luke pops the button to his fly, tugging the zipper down and shoving his hand past the layers of his clothes. “Luke-”

“I can only focus on one- fuck you’re wet-” Din laughs breathlessly at the first slick slide of Luke’s thumb against his cock, the laugh petering off when Luke’s power surges, pressing up harder into him and making him clench down. Din bites down on his lower lip to try and dampen the noise, not wanting to be loud, but Luke’s free hand comes up, thumb snagging his lip from between his teeth. “Don’t hide- don’t-”

Din moans out loud, unable to help himself, and Luke’s thumb slips into his mouth, pressing against his tongue and dragging over his teeth. Din tries to wrap his lips around the appendage and suck but Luke presses his thumb in, Din choking softly until he lets his jaw go slack. Luke eases his thumb back, letting Din flick the tip of his tongue over the pad of his thumb while moaning lewdly. It’s shockingly loud in Din’s ears, his cheeks heating in embarrassment, but Luke moans right along with him, shaking in between his legs and other thumb speeding up on his cock. Din whines, trying to warn him, but Luke’s only focus is on him, on the wet warmth of him and keeping his power firmly filling Din up. Din’s body can’t tell whether the sensation is warm or cold, but it doesn't seem to matter much when Luke rubs a tight circle on his cock, thumb applying firm, steady pressure that sends Din careening over the edge for the second time in the span of only a few minutes.

“Good?” Luke whispers, hand stilling once Din whines at the overstimulation. Din nods, but his skin is still crawling with need and he only has one thought in mind.

“Want you in me.” Luke swears under his breath, a rather colorful word that makes Din wheeze out a laugh. Luke draws both his hands off of Din to wrestle with his clothes, unlatching Din’s thigh plates and yanking his pants down his hips. Din helps as much as he can, shoving his boots off and letting them fall somewhere in the dirt behind them and then twisting so Luke can yank his pants down off his legs, tossed to the ground somewhere near them. Luke hurries to get the fly of his own pants undone, but he doesn’t have to remove anything, just pulling his cock out and groaning at the first touch.

Din goes up on an elbow, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Luke strokes himself a few times, smearing the precum that gathers at the tip. Din lets his legs fall open wider, other hand sliding down to spread his lips, and Luke’s eyes flick down to watch with interest. “You’re gorgeous.”

Din scoffs, but his chest is warm with affection and he smiles when Luke shuffles forward, kissing him sweetly. Luke’s hands pet over his hips as he lifts him to settle easier in his lap, thighs tucking under Din to support him. It’s a bit weird to have all the rest of his armor on still, but he’s sufficiently distracted when Luke grinds his hips forward, slipping through the slick that’s made a mess of his thighs. “Oh.” Din gasps out when Luke angles his hips, pressing in slowly yet steadily. The phantom fucking that Din experienced earlier was definitely cold, because the hard, insistent filling of Luke’s cock burns in the best way. “Oh- LukeLukeLuke-”

Din’s hips lift of their own accord, easing the angle, and he’s so sinfully wet that Luke slides in faster than he means to, pressing to the hilt and voice cracking on a moan. Din shakes, clenching down on the length of him, and Luke pitches forward, forehead pressing into Din’s collarbone as his hips snap forward, forcing a loud, breathy noise from Din’s throat. Luke braces one hand next to Din’s ribs while the other grabs at his hip, steadying him as he breathes in slowly through his nose, letting it out through his mouth moments later. “You’re tight, I-”

Luke’s words strangle in his throat when Din purposefully squeezes down around him, hips rutting forward messily. Luke is gorgeous and amazing like this, eyes firmly shut and jaw clenched in concentration as a moan falls from his lips, and Din can't help but stare. "You can move." Din teases, smirking when Luke peeks an eye open to glare down at him. "Really, I won't bre- ah-k!"

Din nearly eats his own words right there when Luke pulls back, slamming his hips home and grinding hard against him. Din tightens around him in response and Luke groans, hand sliding down over Din's thigh to hitch his leg higher. It changes the angle just enough to skate over that delightful little spot inside of him, and Din sighs Luke's name. Done with the teasing, Luke finds his rhythm easily, thrusting into Din in long, even strokes, pressing deep enough each time that Din's thighs quiver around him.

Din feels hazy in a way he hasn't in a while, unable to think of anything other than the way that Luke feels in him, feels between his thighs, pressed so deep inside of him that he sees white. Din can feel when Luke loses his careful focus, rhythm going wonky and fingers twitching uselessly against Din's thigh. While he's still working toward Din's own pleasure his is rapidly approaching, and Din's heart swells at the careful attention Luke pays him. Here he is, having come twice already, and Luke is still trying to make him go again. Luke's eyes snap to his, half wild when Din very firmly thinks of what he wants, and Luke's nodding his head without really seeing, hands moving to grab at Din's ribs and haul him up. Din sits up, carefully shuffling his thighs and settling heavily in Luke's lap. The new position presses Luke deeper inside him still, making his toes curl, and he moans when Luke's hands grab at his ass, blunt fingernails digging in. Din grips Luke's shoulders as he lifts his hips, dropping them down as Luke thrusts up, carving hard into him and fucking him open. Din presses their foreheads together, panting and occasionally trying to kiss him before their rhythm forces him to pull back again.

"So good for me, fuck I love you-" Din grins then, tightening when he drops down and basking in the needy whine that drifts from Luke's lips. "So much- love you so much-"

"Come, Cyar'ika." Din whispers, listening as Luke whimpers, nodding jerkily as he fucks up desperately, groaning and hands sliding down a bit on Din's ass to spread him wider. Luke doesn't last after that command, eyelids fluttering shut as he presses up, hips stuttering and grinding up in small, tight thrusts as warmth paints Din's insides. Din's eyes roll back in his head at the feeling and he sags heavily in Luke's lap, keeping him pressed deep as he slots their lips together.

It takes Luke a few seconds to catch on, one arm shifting to lock around Din's hip and hold him still while his hips roll up, fucking his own mess into Din and chasing the last dregs of his release. Luke's other hand slips between them, wrist cramping as he traps Din's cock between two knuckles, letting Din grind up into his hand and whine against his lips. His movements are lazy the entire time, placated, and Luke takes his time tasting the moans that Din lets free while working himself between Luke's fingers. His third orgasm is nowhere near as all enveloping as his first two, just a hazy warmth that bleeds through him and makes him throb around Luke, finally settling as Luke pulls his hand back to hug him close to his chest.

The beskar makes it a bit odd to press closer, an unnecessary barrier, but Luke acts as if it isn't there at all, hands wandering over Din's back plate and occasionally brushing a clump of grass from his cloak. Luke eventually just tucks his face into Din's neck, seemingly dozing with Din in his lap. Din has almost drifted off himself, warm and happy when Luke speaks, voice groggy. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you felt me manipulating the force?"

Din hums, shrugging and leaning his head against Luke's. "Couldn't pinpoint an exact day. After we kissed the first time. Every time after that."

"So when we spar you…"

"Most of the time. Sometimes I can drown it out, like I would an injury."

Luke scoffs, but it's playful, and Din shivers when Luke's fingers trace idle patterns over the small of his back, just under the edge of his back plate. "Thanks Din, so glad to know it's an injury."

"You try being hard all the time." Is all he says back, Luke laughing and conceding the point. "I was afraid of what it means. It- doesn't happen with anyone else."

"Good." Luke says, a note of possessiveness coloring the edge of his voice. "You're sensitive to those you care about. If that person just so happens to be a force user it- creates a unique kind of feedback loop."

"You knew this would happen?"

"Nu uh. Read about it once, in an old text. We aren't supposed to have attachments, so it never seemed prudent. I couldn't be sure you even knew what was happening half the time we talked without me actually speaking."

"That isn't part of the force that's just…"

"You being sensitive." Luke kisses Din's neck gently, breath warm across Din's skin. "It's different with us. You aren't just guessing- you know, even if your waking brain doesn't. You used it earlier, to tell me what you wanted."

Din's cheeks flush at the memory, but Luke is entirely earnest, sitting back to look Din over carefully. He must like what he sees because the blonde man grins, Din's cheeks flushing darker as his face pulls into something resembling embarrassment. Hiding his expression is something Din is woefully bad at, and he knows every twitch of his face betrays him, how he's feeling. Luke's hands smooth over his hips, thumbs pressing into the line of his hip bones, and Din turns to frown at him, brows twitching upward.

"Don't tell me you want to go again." He deadpans, Luke's lips quirking in a small, teasing smile.

"Mm, tempting, but I was more thinking of going to take a shower." Luke's thumbs don't stop their slow, even press and Din shivers, shoving lightly at Luke's chest and lifting himself up out of Luke's lap. He's expecting the mess that standing will make, but Luke's fingers shift and Din gasps as cool pressure fills him up, fingers digging into Luke's shoulders. Luke's hands slip down to cup the sides of his thighs and he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on the skin below Din's belly button.

"Luke." Din's voice is sharp, a warning more than anything, and Luke hums, placing one last soft kiss before rising to his feet as well. Din doesn't particularly want to get redressed, but he is not walking his bare ass into the house in fear that Grogu is awake, so he shoves his legs back through his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Luke has his boots and thigh plates in hand already while Din pads over to where his helmet was discarded, scooping it up and tucking it under his arm. Luke holds out his free hand, wagging his fingers until Din rolls his eyes and takes his hand, allowing himself to be led inside to their now shared room. Luke drops off Din's stuff and turns to strip him of the rest of his armor. "I can undress myself."

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"Undress yourself." Luke scoffs at the idea, waving his hand, and Din rolls his eyes again. Once his armor is off Din drags Luke to the refresher, stripping himself out of his clothes while the water heats. Din is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, watching Luke undress when he sees Luke's fingers move, just a small crooking of his fingers. Din shudders, hand shooting out to grip the edge of the sink as the pressure inside him fades, and Din's cheeks heat at the way come drips onto his thighs. Din stands resolutely by the sink even when Luke slips into the shower, willing the strength back into his knees and only moving when he's sure he isn't going to fall over.

"Coming?" Luke calls, peeking his head out of the shower and snickering at the glare Din levels his way.

"You're an ass." Luke hums, cheeky grin on his face, and he holds a hand out, allowing Din to clutch onto it as he takes a step over the edge of the tub. Luke turns them immediately so Din can be under the warm water, regardless of the way he shivers, skin already wet. Din tips his head back, letting the water slick his hair back and paste it to his temples.

Despite Luke's teasing and general cheekiness his movements are tender as he helps Din wash up, occasionally leaving light, chaste kisses on the slope of his shoulders just to have an excuse to be close. Din basks in the attention afforded to him, and he's all too happy to do the same, hands mapping over the scars lining Luke's body and working soap through his hair. Luke's hair is longer, finer than his, and while Din's hair stands up with no prompting Luke's falls around him in loose waves, curling at the nape of his neck.

By the time that they finally make it out of the shower Din is half asleep on his feet, shuffling along behind Luke back to the bedroom. He can still hear Grogu snoring away on the other side of the house, so he doesn't feel bad when he collapses onto the bed, letting Luke manhandle him until the both of them fit nicely under the covers.

"So," Luke begins as Din is just beginning to drift off again. "Is this an every time thing?"

"Go to sleep, Luke."

"I'm just asking!" Luke says defensively, laughing when Din digs his fingers into Luke's ribs to make him squirm. "Fine fine, but you have to tell me in the morning."

-*-

Din is pleasantly sore when he wakes up the next morning, just a faint ache between his legs that he enjoys more than he should. The sun hasn’t risen yet, light barely straining to lighten the sky, but Din feels too awake to go back to bed. Instead he goes up on an elbow, glancing down at Luke’s sleeping form. He sleeps spread out, much like a star, wholly unused to sharing a bed with anyone and taking up as much space and blanket as he can. Din on the other hand, is used to sleeping in tight quarters, and it’s all too easy to tuck himself in the space that Luke does leave for him. Which seems to be growing with every night they spend tangled together.

Luke’s face is young, devoid of the usual calculating look or serene expression he wears at all times if he can help it. He’s so wildly expressive when he wants to be, quick to frown or grin and make a joke, but Din feels… Emptiness sometimes. Like the feelings that Luke wears are more like a shield, rather than actually being his. Din doesn’t know much about Luke’s training as a Jedi, and is still learning about his past, but Luke had mentioned more than once that Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments. That they made them weak, susceptible to the dark side that Luke always seemed so serious about. But here now, Din doesn’t feel weak.

Din finds himself touching Luke, gentle and easy, tracing along the scars on his chest and dipping down to follow their jagged, racing edges with his lips. One scar drifts under his nipple, so close that Din can’t help the way he detours to flick his tongue over the bud, smiling when Luke shifts, chest rising with quicker breaths. Din doesn’t stay there long, not quite wanting Luke to wake up and say something that he thinks is funny so early in the morning. He just wants to touch him, to let his hands drift, fingers trailing the bumps of his ribs that become apparent when Luke breathes in. Din sits up further now, moving slowly so as not to disturb Luke too much, and he skims his hand over the plane of his chest, up toward his shoulders and down one arm, over his bicep and finally stopping to cup his forearm.

Luke’s arms are impressive, corded with muscle but not enormous like Boba- There’s an inherent delicacy in Luke’s form that betrays the strength hidden there, and Din enjoys it immensely. He knows that Luke leans into the look, in letting people underestimate him the same way that Din’s armor and presence demand more. Din places his hand on Luke’s stomach, watching the way that Luke twitches when Din drags his fingers over the lean muscle.

“You’re affectionate.” Din hums when Luke speaks, voice groggy and eyes still closed. Din doesn’t bother stopping even knowing that Luke is awake, but now that he is awake Din’s hand drifts lower. Luke makes a soft noise at the soft brush of Din’s knuckles against the insides of his thighs, Din nudging his legs a bit further apart. Luke shuffles his legs at Din’s insistence, and Din presses his thumb into the crease of Luke’s thigh and hip, huffing a laugh at the way that Luke’s hips shift. He does it again and sees Luke’s stomach clench, flexing as his breathing goes funny. “Din, you know what that does to me.”

“Mhmm.” Din slips in between Luke’s legs easily while he’s distracted, bringing his other hand up to apply equal pressure to the other side too. Luke’s back arches weakly off the bed at the odd, wobbly feeling that Din made him describe the first time he touched him this way, and Din uses his elbows to keep Luke’s knees from digging into his sides. “We have time before Grogu wakes up.”

“Insatiable.” Din laughs at the way Luke’s voice rasps from him, and Din drops a hand to boldly take Luke in hand, watching the way Luke’s lashes flutter as his hips roll upward. “You’re very far away, Din.”

“Right where I want to be.” Luke’s breath hitches when Din shuffles himself down, left hand smoothing over Luke’s thigh, circling under to tuck his leg up and out. Luke plants his heel in the bed, adjusting himself as Din hums and dips to kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh. Luke croons at the affection, the sound dissolving into a whine when Din nips lightly and then sucks, coaxing a mark to the forefront. Din settles himself down on his front, propped up on his elbows and breath ghosting over the soft curve of Luke’s cock. “You had a question last night.”

“Hmm?” Luke murmurs, hardly seeming to pay attention. Din leans down to lap at the base of Luke’s cock, lips curling in a smile against the soft flesh when Luke gasps.

“Your question, Luke.”

“Ah, shit, umm- what we did last night, with the- ah- force-” Din trails his lips up, letting Luke feel the warmth of his mouth so close while Luke tries desperately to form a coherent thought. Luke seems on the verge of being able to say something when Din takes the head into his mouth, sucking lightly and a hand shooting out to grab at Luke’s thigh, forcing him back into the bed as Luke whines. “You- are impossible-”

Din watches as Luke goes up on his hands, one hand reaching down and fingers threading in Din’s hair. Din hums, bobbing his head in appreciation as Luke’s fingers tighten in his hair. Din looks up as he hollows his cheeks, taking Luke deeper and raising a brow. He lets his thoughts, normally so guarded, flow from him now, and Luke groans, whole body shuddering. Luke’s power rushes up his spine, pooling at the back of his neck and sinking into the base of his skull, vision going dark as Din closes his eyes, swallowing Luke down in earnest.

I want it to be every time. I thought you were uncomfortable around my use of the force, but this whole time- this whole time you liked it.

Luke’s voice is clearer than Din has ever heard it, and Din feels the first cold drag of Luke’s attention against his ass and thighs, raking over his skin. Din can’t do what Luke does, but he tries to show him, to share with him the way that Luke’s powers feel. He thinks about last night, when Luke had grabbed him and overwhelmed him so thoroughly so quickly, and Luke twitches in his mouth, hand tugging on his hair. Din rises with the insistent pull at his scalp, allowing Luke to guide him up and then back down, and Luke huffs out little noises above him, soft and needy in the still of the morning. Din gives him everything he can, thinking about the first time that Luke’s power had excited him, had left him aching and confused and lusting in a way that he was wholly unfamiliar with.

The times in between, when Din was left taking cold shower after shower, trying so desperately to garner back some kind of control until the next echo of Luke’s power sent him reeling again. The warm buzzing that hid under his skin, reaching a crescendo whenever Luke touched him with those strong, talented hands of his.

It never seemed to stop either- Din’s lust was an all consuming thing, a constant want that burrowed in his skin, lit him up from the inside. Din’s mind comes back to him slowly as the pressure at the base of his skull lessens, and he blinks back tears as Luke grinds up into his mouth. He isn’t sure how long he’s been like this, letting Luke see everything while using his mouth, but he can feel his hair sticking to his temples and his jaw has only just begun to ache.

“I didn’t know-” The sound of Luke’s voice, real and rough sends a shock of arousal through Din, and he pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head while Luke tries to speak. It gives him a break, but most importantly it draws the softest moans from Luke, and if Din’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied he’d smile. Instead he sucks particularly hard, chuckling as Luke’s thighs bracket around his head, Din’s hand coming up to keep Luke from squeezing too hard. “Didn’t know it was that way for you.”

Din pops off of Luke’s cock suddenly, surging up onto his knees and crowding into his space to kiss him. His lips are wet and he doesn’t doubt that he tastes like Luke, but Luke throws an arm around his neck and hugs him close, lapping into his mouth as Din wraps a hand around him, creating a tight fist that Luke bucks up into. “It isn’t just the force thing.” Din says, bumping their noses together as he pulls back.

“No?” Din wants him to know, needs him to know, love burning in his chest in time with the pounding of his heart.

Din laughs, bright and stupid and happy, and his wrist twists, drawing a keen from Luke as his hips stutter. “You’re too cocky to pretend you aren’t attractive, Luke.”

“Rude-”

“Stop talking.” Luke scoffs in offense, but Din stops touching him in favor of shoving him onto his back, Luke offering no resistance. Din trails kisses down Luke’s body, occasionally stopping to nip at a spot that makes Luke whimper softly before moving on. Din settles himself back down between Luke’s thighs, and he admires the healthy flush of Luke’s cock, the way it curves proudly up against his stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of Luke spread out like a banquet before him, chest rising and falling and lined with sweat, hair a mess. Luke throbs once Din gets his mouth on him again, and Din can tell he’s close. It seems cruel to keep him in so much suspense, so Din takes him down to the root, swallowing around him and lifting just a bit when Luke’s hips shove upward.

He doesn’t mean to draw back, to make Luke whine, and he soothes hands over Luke’s hips, rubbing at the sensitive junction of his legs in apology. It only takes him a moment to adjust to the weight of Luke on his tongue again, and he allows Luke to fuck up into his mouth, to chase his own pleasure as his hand comes back to grab at his hair. He holds on like without the feeling of Din’s hair in his hands he’ll float away entirely, and Din finds the small tugs whenever Luke presses up just right too attractive to tell him to stop.

Din feels that rush of power push into the base of his skull again, hard and quick, and Din’s hands clench, fingers digging in hard to the meat of Luke’s thighs at the first rush of Luke’s orgasm. He feels, tastes and experiences Luke’s release: his own body sings with it, thighs shaking in tandem with the way that Luke’s do as Din swallows down around him. Din draws back enough to lap at the sensitive spot just under the head of Luke’s cock, groaning at the small taste that he gets in reward as Luke basks in the aftershocks. Din pulls back when he’s able, panting raggedly and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His thighs are still shaking, Luke’s pleasure floating through him in lazy waves, and he slips up to lay along the length of Luke’s body, arm around his waist and head pillowed on his shoulder.

He knows that Luke has regained most of his sense when a kiss is pressed into his hair. “That was new.” Din observes, feeling Luke’s laugh echo through his ribcage from where their bodies are pressed together.

“Like it?”

“It was okay.” A rush of affection makes his stomach flop pleasantly when Luke hums, obviously amused but too sleepy to laugh. Luke turns to face Din, resting on his side and skimming his hand up and down Din’s side. The attention is nice, the simple touch warming him, and when Din deigns to open his eyes the sun has finally begun to peak over the horizon, bathing the room in swathes of oranges and yellows. “Just enough time.”

“We have more.” Luke muses, hand sliding down and catching behind Din’s knee. He stops, letting the offer hang in the air, and Din shifts forward, lifting his thigh in answer. Luke maneuvers himself closer, hooking Din’s thigh up and over his hip and dipping his hand lower. It’s a bit of an odd angle to work at, but Luke adjusts easily, hoisting Din up the bed a bit and grinning at the way Din draws in a sharp breath at the manhandling. He chokes on his breath completely at the first brush of Luke’s fingers against him, teasing over the sensitive edges of him before finally, blissfully moving more centrally. The first pass of Luke’s fingers tugs him open, and Din can hear the wet sound that Luke’s fingers make on the second pass, smearing the slick that’s collected in the time that Din was otherwise occupied. “Never get tired of this.” Luke breathes, humming when Din presses his hands to Luke’s chest to anchor himself.

“Sap.” Din murmurs, voice soft. Luke grins, bumping their foreheads together and watching, enraptured at the way Din’s eyebrows pinch at the first press of Luke’s fingers into him. It’s a bit of a stretch to take two at first, even with as desperately as Din wants this, but he hitches his thigh a bit higher, opening himself more as Luke rubs against his walls, crooking his fingers in a come hither motion that has Din’s fingers curling uselessly against his chest. Din’s brain goes fuzzy as Luke thrusts his fingers slowly, curled just enough that every time he pulls back he rubs just right, dragging over the little bump that makes Din’s thighs shake. He hadn’t even thought about himself when he’d woken up this morning- Luke had given him so much last night, had accepted and loved him more than he could ever ask for, but here, pressed chest to chest, breath mingling, Din has never felt more appreciated.

“Can I show you something?” Luke’s voice is soft, hesitant, but Din nods immediately, scratching lightly at Luke’s chest and gasping when Luke presses his fingers up deep, stilling. Din whines, clenching around his fingers, and he’s so distracted by the feeling that he doesn’t register Luke’s power latching onto him again. Din feels a dizzying sense of vertigo, and then he’s sucked somewhere into a memory, an image that’s firmly burned into Din’s mind just as much as it is Luke’s.

It’s the first time they were together, after Din had confessed, when neither of them were sure of each other or what to do. Din remembers the night as being hard and fast, something passionate, and it is, but the way Luke’s hands had held his hips as Din sat astride him, Din’s hands splayed low on Luke’s stomach to brace himself as their hips rocked together… That was love. Luke held him so gently, guided his hips when he lost his rhythm and never asked for more than Din was willing to give. Luke had paid such close attention to him then, always had, and his hands had scorched over Din's skin with each hesitant, shaking touch. Looking at it now Din doesn’t know how he ever thought that this could be fleeting, the all consuming magnetism that drew them together time and time again.

Luke draws him back out of the memory slowly, easing him back to the present, and Din snakes one hand up to cup Luke’s cheek, drawing him in for a shuddering kiss. His hips rock forward against Luke, egging him on, and Luke gives him what he asks for. Luke's touch is gentle, not wanting to hurt him, and Luke curls his fingers again and presses up against his g-spot, rubbing even as Din’s thighs begin to tremble and jerk with each sensation. He’s up on a razor wire and he doesn’t know how long he can last before it snaps, breaths coming faster and faster until Luke presses just right, flicking his tongue against Din’s and sending Din spiraling Din keens into Luke’s mouth, thighs numb, and Luke grins, working him over until he’s sobbing against Luke’s mouth.

“Luke please-”

“You’re okay, Din, breathe.” Din can’t, he can’t even think past Luke’s fingers still buried deep, and Luke groans, rolling Din onto his back and slipping from his arms. Din feels so empty that he clenches weakly, chest rising and falling as he pants, trying to suck in a proper breath. Din doesn’t care if his mind is wide open or if Luke can see the desperate, pained way he’s hanging right on the edge, he wants so badly that Luke being away from him makes him whimper. Din opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get his eyes to focus so he can see where Luke has gone, but then Luke’s fingers are sliding back into him at a new angle and Luke’s clever, wonderful, hot mouth is on his cock, tongue flicking just right- so right-

Din’s hands fly down to grab fistfuls of Luke’s hair as his back arches, and Luke’s mouth and fingers finally snap that wire inside of him. Din chokes on a cry of Luke’s name as he shakes apart underneath him, grinding down against Luke’s lips and gasping when Luke sucks very pointedly. Warmth rushes through him, making his muscles go loose and warm, and he slumps back into the bed, fingers trembling in Luke’s hair every time that Luke’s tongue slides against him in broad, slow licks. Luke is very, very patient, and he doesn't move from between Din’s thighs until Din lets go of his hair, content to use his mouth until Din is ready to be done. Din shifts his hips, wordlessly asking Luke to pull his fingers out, and Luke does so slowly.

“Okay?”

“We’re doing that again.” Din croaks out, Luke laughing and shuffling to sit between Din’s legs. Din traps him between his thighs, not letting him move, but Luke isn’t planning on going anywhere, blue eyes dark with lust as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking the mess from them as Din groans at the sight.

“You only have to ask.”

“Why is this the first time I got your mouth?”

“Wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it.” Luke says, but there’s something different about him, a sort of confidence that wasn’t there before. “You showed me- a lot, when you were distracted earlier. What you liked, what you thought about when you were- frustrated.”

Both Din and Luke know that isn’t the word either of them would use, but it makes affection bubble in Din’s chest all the same. He reaches out for Luke, pulling until Luke’s weight rests fully on top of him before he kisses him, muttering against his lips. “Make note for next time.”

“Next time?"

"You could use more practice with your mouth." Luke pauses, pulling back to look him over, and a tender yet smarmy grin colors his face, eyes bright.

"I think I can manage that."

#dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #trans din djarin #force sensitive din djarin #major sluttiness #nsft #it's basically all smut lets be real #Im

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gracegriller949 · 3 years

Text

Shining Devotion

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: DinLuke, Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin

A/N: Read the full fic on Ao3 here

Chapter 3

The Mandalorian grunts in shock as Grogu retracts his hands from under the helmet and promptly collapses on top of him.

After a beat of silence, Luke watches as Mando slowly rises from the table, cradling Grogu in his arms. The Mandalorian turns to Luke as if to question if he knew what happened. Mando most likely only saw confusion on Luke’s face since it took him a second to realize that he should probably close his gaping mouth.

Just then, a sudden, soaring pain rips through Luke. He keels over and slumps down into the chair closest to him. The adrenaline must have worn off. Great.

Mando reacts quickly to Luke’s pain by throwing his legs over the side of the table and setting the sleeping Grogu down carefully on the surface. He grabs the Bacta spray that Luke left on the table and swiftly kneels in front of the Jedi.

“I’m... fine,” Luke grunts out, reaching his hand out to stop the Mandalorian “I can... I can do… it.”

He slumps back into the chair again as a wave of chills wash over him.

“Mmhm,” the Mandalorian grunts in return. “Take off your shirt.”

Luke just stares at the Mandalorian, dumbfounded.

“Take it off, or I will.”

Feeling his cheeks warm, Luke looks down at his black robes to find a large hole that has been cut into the left side of his shirt. Carefully, Luke untucks his shirt and pulls one hand out of the sleeve to roll the shirt up to his neck. After its tucked under his chin, Luke looks back down at his side to find an angry red cut about the size of a Tooka-cat’s leg laying against the crisscrossing patches of white scars that cover the rest of his body. Luke hisses as the kneeling Mandalorian places a gloved hand on his side and leans his head in to take a loser look at the wound.

“Looks like you cut yourself on some glass,” the Mandalorian observes. “It’s pretty deep. I’m going to need to get the shards out before I can heal you. Do you have a cauterizer?”

“In… the Medkit,” Luke huffs as he points in the direction of the crates.

Mando gets up smoothly to retrieve the cauterizer. On his way from the Medkit, he sees Grogu still lying on the table and quickly scoops him up to deposit him in his hammock before kneeling again next to Luke, cauterizer in hand.

Placing his hand back on Luke’s side, the Mandalorian starts his work on getting the tiny pieces of glass out of his cut.

Luke’s fingernails dig into his palms as he braces himself against the pain coming from his side. To distract himself, Luke decides to unload a couple of the questions that have been circling in his head since he first saw the Slave I.

“Why were you in the Slave I alone? Where’s Boba Fett?”

“Fett’s dead.”

That catches Luke off guard.

“F-Fett’s… what? He’s…” Luke splutters as he takes in this new information.

He jumps a little as the Mandalorian zaps at his wound. Mando looks up from Luke’s side to make eye contact with him through the helmet.

“Fett’s dead. He died protecting me.” Mando’s voice is neutral, completely devoid of emotion.

This confuses Luke. Surely the two were friends, right? Why else would the Mandalorian be on his ship? Luke looks straight into the Mandalorian’s visor, trying to gauge his emotions before Mando averts his attention back to the task at hand.

Luke grimaces again at the pain, this time shooting out a hand to steady himself on the Mandalorian’s pauldron. If Mando minds, he doesn’t say anything.

“What happened?” Luke asks softly.

The Mandalorian is quiet for a few seconds and just as Luke thinks that he’s not going to respond, Luke hears a shaky inhale coming from the modulator.

“We were on Mandalore. Fett and I had just gotten back from a mission regarding some business on Tatooine. We were rooting out an imperial refuge that was hoarding Mandalorian artifacts. When we got back to Mandalore, I went to discuss the mission with my adviser, Bo Katan, but we were ambushed by a group of her clansmen. We fought as hard as we could, but Fett didn’t make it out.”

Luke flinches again as the Mandalorian continues his work. He tries to take in what Mando just said, but it seems that with every question the Mandalorian answers, more appear in their wake. Questions like: Who is Bo Katan? Why does Mando have an adviser? How did Boba Fett die? Luke grits his teeth and waits a beat before asking: “How did you get out?”

Mando stops zapping Luke’s wound and takes another close look at it before continuing with the cauterizer.

“She let me go. Bo Katan. Fett and I were almost to the ship when one of the clansmen shot him point blank. Dumb Keck jumped in front of me. Bo Katan came in after me. She told me that there had been an uprising and that they were after the darksaber. She told me to run and gave me the coordinates to Grogu’s location. Wasn’t long until I realized the ship was compromised. It was all I could do to limp here from Mandalore”

Luke takes in this new information. Trying to take his mind off the pain in his side.

“Why did she let you go?” he asks.

The Mandalorian shakes his head as he leans his head toward Luke’s wound to get a better look.

Luke takes the hint and changes the subject.

“What’s the darksaber?”

“It’s a laser sword that was wielded by a Mandalorian years ago and has been passed through the hands of many rulers of Mandalore.”

That gets Luke’s attention. Darksaber? Like a lightsaber… but dark?

“And you have this saber in your possession meaning that you…” Luke trails off, putting the pieces together.

The Mandalorian turns off the cauterizer and sets it on the ground next to him. He scoops up the Bacta spray and points it at Luke’s wound before spraying it carefully up and down the cut. Luke squeezes his hand that still rests on the Mandalorian’s pauldron, grimacing at the chilliness of the Bacta.

“That should heal in a few minutes.”

Mando gets up from his knee and crosses his arms as he leans against Luke’s table. The table looks miniscule in comparison. Luke gulps thickly and murmurs a ‘thank you’ to the Mandalorian before moving his arm to slip it back into his shirt sleeve.

“So… you’re the ruler of Mandalore.”

The Mandalorian nods once.

Luke can feel the questions buzzing around his head like a bunch of flies on a piece of trash. His eyes look past the Mandalorian and land on the tiny brown bundle sleeping behind him.

“Did you know that he could do that?” wonders Luke.

The Mandalorian follows Luke’s gaze to the sleeping child and sighs through his modulator. Mando uncrosses his arms and strides over to Grogu’s crib to gently rock the hammock.

“I think you better get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning,” he says.

Luke doesn’t feel tired, but he knows the Mandalorian is right.

“But where will you sleep? I wasn’t exactly expecting guests,” says Luke, a slight squeak coming into his voice at the realization of just how unprepared he is for the Mandalorian to sleep in the hut.

“I’ll just sleep outside. You got a fire pit?”

Luke nods.

“That’ll do. Goodnight, Jedi.” Mando says as he makes his way towards the entrance of the hut.

“Luke.” He says, “You can call me Luke.”

The Mandalorian pauses, hand on the curtain that covers the opening of the hut.

“Goodnight, Luke.”

“Goodnight, Mando.”

The Mandalorian nods and disappears out the entrance to the hut. Luke gets up slowly from his chair, his mind still racing from the events of the night. Luke limps slowly over to his shabby bed and lays on top of the covers. He glances over again at Grogu. His questions were still circling around his head, but they were just going to have to wait until morning.

The next morning, Luke wakes up feeling way more refreshed than he should. It’s probably the damn Bacta spray.

At that thought, Luke pulls his shirt up to feel where his wound is. Or more accurately, where his wound <was>. His fingers brush the area to find the wound has healed perfectly.

Luke sighs softly and looks around the room. He sits up straight as his eyes land on Grogu’s empty hammock. Just as he’s about to panic, there’s a rustling at the door as the Mandalorian moves the curtain to the side to step into the hut, brown bundle in hand. He offers a nod in greeting as he moves to set Grogu down in his favorite chair.

Luke watches as Mando reaches into one of the pouches of his utility belt and pulls out a silver ball and sets it in front of Grogu. The child takes it and coos happily as his father rubs his head lovingly.

Luke’s heart jumps into his throat as he averts his gaze. The events from the night before come flooding back to him. The ship crash, the Mandalorian, the rescue, the child; all of it. Luke remembers the Mandalorian’s gloved hands on his side, and feels his stomach flutter at the thought.

It feels strange to have the Mandalorian here. Luke thought that maybe he would see the Mandalorian again, if only for him to visit his son, but Luke never thought that he’d be in a situation like this one.

He looks back up at the Mandalorian, now sitting across from Grogu.

“How does your head feel?” Luke asks, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

Mando turns his helmet towards his son.

“It feels like nothing ever happened.”

Luke follows his gaze to Grogu and once again, the question about his student’s power comes into his mind. Thinking back on it from last night, Luke realizes that the Mandalorian wasn’t surprised about Grogu’s power.

“He’s done that before hasn’t he? Healed someone.”

The Mandalorian nods slowly.

“I’ve only seen him do it one other time. I don’t know how it works. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Luke shakes his head.

“I have never seen something with that kind of power, nor have I even heard of it. I’m afraid I am terribly underequipped with Jedi teachings to know the full extent of the Jedi ways.”

The Mandalorian looks up at that.

“I thought you were a Jedi. Do you not have the same powers?”

Luke shakes his head again.

“I never even knew Force healing was possible.”

“Force… healing?” asks the Mandalorian.

“Yes. Somehow Grogu can use the Force to heal people.”

“How is that possible?”

“As I said, there is a lot about this subject that I don’t know. I would need Jedi texts, teachings of when there was a Jedi Order.”

The Mandalorian nods as he continues to look at Luke, his gaze slipping down to where his wound used to rest.

“How’s your side?”

“Good as new, thanks to you,” says Luke, a small smile coming to his face.

“The least I could do after you saved my life.”

That makes Luke pause, his easy smile faltering for a second.

“It was nothing,” he says, looking shyly at the Mandalorian.

The two men stare at each other for a long beat of silence before Luke breaks eye contact with Mando’s helmet and crosses the short distance to the conservator. He knows that there’s nothing in it, but he opens the door and looks inside, nonetheless.

“We don’t have much in terms of food, but can I offer you a nutrient bar?”

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“I had something earlier. Guess there isn’t much fresh produce on Yavin-4?”

Luke closes the door to the conservator and grabs a nutrient bar from the storage container before turning back to the Mandalorian.

“There’s not much of anything left on Yavin-4. Not ever since the end of the war and the Rebellion vacated the planet. I’ve found a few scraps here and there that are left, but I haven’t had time to search much further.”

Luke leans against the counter and takes a big first bite out of his nutrient bar.

“I’m thinking about going back to the crash site today, see what I can salvage,” the Mandalorian says, turning back to watch Grogu as he makes his silver ball float just above his face.

“I’ll go with you,” Luke says, moving to grab some cookies from the storage container.

Mando nods as Luke sets the cookies down in front of Grogu.

“Shouldn’t he eat some real food before dessert?” asks the Mandalorian.

Luke sighs, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Well, if you can convince him to eat something that isn’t cookies or fresh meat, be my guest.”

Mando sighs but doesn’t do anything to stop Grogu from crunching on the little snacks.

“I’ll get him some meat, if I can find something to hunt with,” the Mandalorian says, “I need to get to the ship to find my weapons.”

Luke nods.

“We’ll leave after lunch then.”

#dinluke #luke/din #dindjarin #Luke Skywalker #luke skywalker and din djarin #star wars #fanfic

13 notes · View notes

generalfoolish · 3 years

Text

Chaaj'miit

Chaaj'miit: broadcast, message

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: mentions of death/almost dying

Word count: ~1.4K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: A Mandalorian is sick of Dagobah

A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. Don't hate me for the hiatus! My SIL graduated, and I was celebrating her/driving across the country lol. I'm working to get caught up, so MandoMay might bleed into Jedi June (idk if that's a thing, but it'd be a pretty good theme if it was) Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Ad'ika | Mirshmure’cya

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

“Leia has sent a chaaj’miit.” Luke told you from the doorway, arms crossed and a frown firmly in place.

“I’m fine, Luke. I’m completely healed. Not even a scar to show for it.” Your attempted joke fell flat at his feet. In the two weeks you’d been under his care, Luke had been angry. It radiated off of him, rolled in harsh waves from his very center. You knew he was trying to assuage it, and you knew he was meditating more and more to recenter. He had been adamant that he had to find a balance, but you knew that every time you winced the anger resurged.

“You should get some food, and I will give you the message.” He told you with a small shake of his head, before turning and leaving the hut. You had learned, piece by piece, that Luke wasn’t angry at Din, he was angry at you. He found your actions dense, and when he had heard your reasoning he had lost it.

You were surprised that he was so mad at you. You had told Din as much, but he had waved Skywalker’s emotions off.

“They run hot.” Was all Din had offered about the Skywalkers, which left more questions than answers. But Din, too, was treating you differently. Gone were the rough actions of the warrior, gone was the gruffness of his voice. He had treated you like a rare porcelain since you had woken up. He had refused to touch you at all, at first. You knew he was scared, you had felt his trembling hands skate across your skin, before he decided on a soft touch to your cheek.

Even Grogu treated you like you’d break apart if he touched you too hard, or blow away in the breeze if he wasn’t looking at you.

You were going crazy. You were a mandalorian. You were strong and resilient. You didn’t need those closest to you acting like you were anything but. You had worried Din about it, snapping when he refused to kiss you one night.

“I’m not fragile.” You had murmured, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“You almost died, cyare. I can be soft with you while you heal.” You groaned at him, but didn’t push it. You knew he was right. You knew he felt guilty.

Still, you wanted someone to be rough with you. When Luke told you about Leia’s message you knew that it was time. Time to get back out there and back into the fight. Your companions had other ideas, though.

Sitting next to Grogu on a log, you dug into the stew, and asked Luke what Leia had said.

“She has new coordinates for us.” Luke told his stew, not meeting your eyes.

“That’s good news.” You told him, encouraging him to finish the message. You glanced at Din, but he kept his dark eyes on his bowl. You scoffed. “We aren’t going.” Luke shot his eyes to yours and shook his head. You looked back to Din, and found his eyes already searching yours. You pleaded with them the best you could. Praying that those molten caf eyes saw something to change his mind.

You had to get off of Dagobah. You needed to punch something. You wanted to feel powerful.

A simple back and forth dashed your hope. You contained the tantrum you felt brewing. Your first instinct was to launch your dinner at Luke or Din or the fire or something, and then started hitting until someone took you to space. You didn’t do that. You were at the mercy of the men you had come to love, in different ways but love nonetheless. You knew they wanted to protect you, but you were now more than a month behind. You had taken another week of bed rest, more for Din’s sake than anything, and two weeks of taking it easy on the swamp planet. Longer than you would have given yourself. Longer than Din would have given himself.

“It’s for you.” Din told you quietly, the crackling of the fire nearly drowning him out. You scoffed again. Luke cleared his throat.

“Din and I could go, if that would help you?” He suggested, and you felt your blood boil.

“I’m fine. Better even, than I was before. We took sometime to rest, and now I’m ready to leave.”

“You almost d--” You cut Din off with a laugh, a sharp barking thing.

“I almost died because of bad intel and bad company.” You spat at him, and he recoiled just as you had hoped he would. “That’s right. I almost died because of you, Din. You can’t keep me here out of guilt.” You whirled to Luke, venom dripping in your tone and you had to keep from baring your teeth to him. “And you, what’s your problem? I’m not your pet. I’m a mandalorian, I don’t need to be babysat by a jedi.” You stood and stomped off before the men were done reeling.

You regretted everything you said before you lost the heat of the fire. As you stepped into the cold, dark air of the swamp, you squeezed your eyes shut.

That was properly shitty. That voice told you, snaking its way into your gut and squeezing tight. Even for you. It snarled, the words catching like chipped metal against your frayed nerves. You felt rawer than you ever had. Your heart hurt, and you knew that it was because of how you had hurt them. Your friends, your lover. Why had you done that? Because you were tired of them doting on you? Because you were tired of them caring about you? Because you wanted to rush headlong back to the fight?

The truth was, you were tired. You didn’t mind the break. You had grown weary of Luke’s disapproval. You had grown feral with the need for Din to touch you. You had missed Grogu yanking your hair and scratching your arms. You had missed the jolt of adrenaline during battle. But nothing so bad that you needed to hurt those close to you.

You wanted to turn around and apologize to them. You wanted to, but stubbornness and pride kept you from turning around.

You stood in the dark, and in the quiet, until another set of footsteps approached. The gait told you it was Din, and you held your breath as he came to a stop behind you.

You hadn’t meant that it was his fault. Not really. You knew he was fighting something darker, something he wouldn’t let you in on. You didn’t blame him, though. You also didn’t know how to tell him that.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” He told you quietly, his voice a low rasp. You turned to face him, and hadn’t prepared well enough. The look on his face was a punch to your stomach. He looked dejected. He looked like he wanted to walk into the swamp and never return. Your fingers twitched to smooth his brow, or squeeze his hand, or anything other than hang beside you limp and useless.

“Din, I-” He held up a hand, the skin paler than usual under the moonlight.

“Don’t.” He told you softly, and you could have wept.

Why were you so hateful? Why had you said those things born of frustration like they were true? Why had you thrown his kindness back into his face?

You followed Din back to the ship, and noticed the fire had been hastily kicked out, and Luke was gone. You tried to stop your heart from breaking, assuring yourself that you deserved worse for your little outburst. Regardless, of your efforts, you felt it break. The schisms and cracks opening wider, letting more darkness in, and as you trudged up the ramp of the Crest, you hoped that Din had gotten the coordinates from Luke.

Tagged: @charlispersonallyhell @magikfanatic

#the mandalorian #mandomay2021 #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #mando x female reader #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #Din Djarin x you #grogu #din x grogu #leia organa

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leiainhoth · 4 years

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Work summary: For so long, Din fought the reality of giving the child up, giving him to the jetii and moving on. He had prepared for it, packed a bag and left it all behind, so his son could have the life he deserved. All until he didn't have to. Or the one where Luke rescues Grogu on Tython, and Din rescues Luke in return.

Chapter summary: Luke, Din and Cobb Vanth begin the trip into Mos Espa, DIn and Luke strengthen their force bond

Luke woke with the suns.

Bright light filtered through the canvas of his tent, bringing awareness to the lateness of the hour. He was consistent, an early riser, often waking before the light had breached the horizon, more out of habit than anything else. It felt nice to sleep in, to wake feeling rested and calm and safe.

Luke grinned, stretching overhead, letting his fingertips and socked toes brush the walls of his tent, settling back into his sheets with satisfaction.

His second sensation was warmth; Luke couldn't remember ever feeling waking up quite this comfortable. Surely more blankets than what he had brought from Mos Pelgo were draped over him, under him, behind his head and around his feet. He was so cozy, so comfortable and soft. Luke tucked his cool nose under the sheets, his other senses waking slowly in the abundance of warmth.

Luke shut his eyes as the blissful memories of the night before came back with a whirlwind of colour. The Mandalorian hovering over him, beside him, his helmet silver and beautiful in the moonlight, the press of his head against Luke's. Their feet tangled together, helping as his companion kicked off his boots and grinning unabashedly as he came back to Luke's arms. The feeling of his heartbeat against Luke's hand, the shudder of his breath when Luke pulled away, smiling at him under the stars.

It had been a risk, reaching out to his companion in this way, using the force, as if it was a tool to be abused and manipulated. As if it was a way to gain a closer connection, a further understanding. He wasn't sure if the Mandalorian would hear him, if he would understand. It was one thing to hear the baby maker; Grogu was his son. Luke was…was…

And then…and then…

He was there, all of him, all at once and all throughout Luke's mind. He was bright and stoic and beautiful in the force. The Mandalorian was able to use it, he could, and Luke shuddered as his companion's mind opened to him like a sail biting the wind.

He was warm, his consciousness like a sky full of stars, luminescent and hanging gently above them. Luke reached through the force, his fingers anxious to touch, to understand, to grasp and hold tight to that he had been denied for so long. Someone else in his head, in his thoughts, dancing here and there across the singular golden thread connecting them.

Luke was stunned, shocked; there was so much light, reflecting and shining through his mind. He knocked, gently entreating, and his companion's mind spilled forth; warmth and softness and…and love, love for all that was around him. Luke let his eyes flutter shut, let himself sink into his arms, into his mind. Let himself not be a Jedi, a brother, a rebellion hero, but just Luke. Just Luke, who he was on the inside. His companion stuttered a laugh, and brightness pulsed between them. Luke could hear him; they could understand one another. Feelings and thoughts and emotions filtered and flowed through their minds. He wasn't alone, not anymore. He had two others, a boy and his father, and between the three of them… the force sang .

The Mandalorian pressed his forehead to Luke's, the beskar cool and formidable against him, and let himself breathe. Let himself sink into his arms, knowing that he wasn't too much to love, too big a bother. That he was more than a Jedi with the Skywalker name following his like a phantom. But to the Mandalorian, to him…

Luke had felt it, felt the strength behind the Mandalorian's intentions. Behind his words and actions, the swelling cloud of yellow light, blonde hair and blue eyes…a green lightsaber slicing through the night…

Trayc, the Mandalorian had thought, his mind swirling with light and life, the bonds between them lengthening, tightening. Growing like vines from strings to cords…

The Mando'a settled over Luke's consciousness like a balm, the words were thick and unfamiliar, but they were said with such purpose, such intention. Whatever they meant, whatever Luke was, and whatever they were together, it was the safest feeling Luke had ever known.

A jolt of pain struck him, the vulnerability of his admittance in and amongst the comfort they had established unmoored him.

He thought that Luke was leaving?

Luke's mind stuttered, unsure how to respond. He felt the hurt, the anxiety, the pain, even, just from looking at his posture. How could he leave now? How could he even think that?

You look at the horizon, his companion whispered, his voice soft. Like everything you want is beyond it. I had thought… your sister…

No, he couldn't help it. He leant forward, shutting his eyes tightly with love in his heart and softer than soft leant down and kissed his forehead, his lips leaving a smudge on the beskar. Luke could feel the stuttering gasp, the warmth of his palms, the love across their bond. This was precious; this was softness and light and everything Luke had ever wanted. He couldn't bear it, the thought of leaving him now.

Luke blushed at the memory, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The moment had felt important, pinnacle, as if they together had overcome some obstacle on the road to…to…

What? Greater intimacy? Continued proximity? Surely, the Mandalorian was a private man, but Luke had watched him, unable to look away, as their journey had continued. Watched as he spoke carefully to Vanth when the caravan slowed to a stop, watched as he conversed with A'Vod, Cor and Varre both verbally and with his hands, using the physical language of the Tusken Raiders.

Luke himself had asked Vanth for lessons just the night before, but the man had scoffed, told him to ask Mando for help. Which didn't help, incidentally, considering that his companion had all but refused (in a stuttering and uncomfortable sort of way) to teach him. Luke didn't understand why; it was convenient, helpful. To be able to speak a common tongue was vital to a closer understanding. Luke wanted to know; he wanted to understand. He had spent nineteen years of his life ignorant and afraid of the Sand People, and he didn't want to be ignorant. He wanted to be better, to learn new things and move past who he used to be. He was a Jedi, dammit— Jedi were the peacekeepers of the galaxy; if he wanted to understand, he had to learn. Simple as that.

Vanth turned away, a grin hidden behind laughing eyes. Luke tossed his hands in the air, defeated.

In the end, the few gestures and words he had picked up on from the others gave him a big enough vocabulary to speak cordially to the Tuskens. Sure, his pronunciation may have been off and his gestures clumsy, but Varre and the others seemed to appreciate the effort, speaking slowly and with care so Luke could better understand. The baby had been with him, sitting between his feet, and Luke grinned at the child's question of Luke's inadequacy when his father seemed to understand without effort. Luke ran a hand over the child's ear, a grin on the edge of his lips.

Why had the Mandalorian turned Luke away?

It wasn't much of an inconvenience, was it? He didn't expect to be fluent; surely passing was enough to get by. Was it the time? The energy? What about Luke's inquiry was uncomfortable for him?

Maybe Luke was too forward, asking to spend more time with him. It was no secret to Luke or any of the others that the Marshal looked to the Mandalorian for answers; they were leaders together. Every time the caravan slowed, Luke watched with something tight in his chest as the Mandalorian dismounted his bantha, tossing his cape behind him and taking the baby in his arms. His words with Vanth were brisk, to the point, discussing the route, any potential dangers along the way. Luke knew better than most that a confrontation with the Sand People was unlikely with some of their own included in the caravan. Bandits and thieves hid in the caves and open plains of Tatooine, but more than one pair of sharp eyes watched the dunes at all times. A'Vod rode behind Vanth, and Luke listened as he spoke, catching words and phrases as he gesticulated to the Marshal. Watched as the Marshal nodded, steering his bantha away from some hidden danger, making camp someplace else for the night.

Other than a Jawa Sandcrawler's appearance a few days before, the dunes were quiet, still. Even the familiar buzz of land speeders and speeder bikes was nil, and more than once, Luke wondered what had happened to make Tatooine this way. Something to do with the syndicate? A big pod race in Mos Espa?

Luke shook his head, amused. He had asked Owen and Beru more than once in his youth to allow him to build a podracer, and as an adult, Luke understood their hesitation (abject horror, more like it). But criminals didn't stop being criminals because of a race, so where was everybody?

The Mandalorian seemed perturbed, but Luke knew that Vanth was relishing their good fortunes. The less danger, the better; they had infants to protect and credits to guard. The relative ease of their journey was just that, a coincidence—one to be both grateful for and slightly wary of.

When the night came and the camp disbanded, Luke signed up for a watch without delay. He wanted to be useful and find time to himself in the business of the day. The schedule was consistent, easy to remember. It was nothing to Luke to stand guard over their little camp while the others slept; it reminded him fondly of the night watches on Hoth during the war. There were three a night, and Luke relished the stillness his watch brought, sitting calmly by the fire with a mug of caf and all the stars to keep him company.

He was vigilant but often let his mind wander as he watched. He thought about the day, the intermixed moments of happiness and boredom on the back of his bantha. He thought about the morning prior and how the Mandalorian had offered a hand to Luke when his foot caught on his bantha's lead. Not laughing (as Vanth and Scoeeri did) but moving gently, untangling his feet and helping him up with a kind hand. His gaze had been lingering, and Luke blushed at the weight of his observation. What was Luke to him?

It became difficult to focus after that. The rest of the morning, Luke tried to meditate, to fix his attention on the lolling thoughts of his bantha and the excitable chatter of the baby. It was difficult, impossible. His mind strayed, his thoughts desperate to tangle with those of his companions.

And now that Luke knew what it felt like, now that they were connected, strong in the force… even the reminder that the gentle familiarity was waiting for him roused him quickly.

He pulled off the blankets with a shiver, dressing for the day with a lightness in his heart. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and brushed the hair from his eyes, ready and excited to begin his morning meditation with Grogu. Ready and excited to see him again.

Luke opened the flap of his tent and stumbled in the light, something bright and silver and large standing at the entrance to his tent. Luke felt a hand taking hold of his wrist, and Luke's hand caught the Mandalorian's vambrace with shaky steps. The baby cooed a welcome, an abbreviated explanation of his father's behaviour communicated through their force bond, and Luke looked up, meeting his eyes.

His companion's thoughts were relaxed, not as easy to discern without direct skin-to-skin contact. But the Mandalorian was happy, content. Two bowls rested gently in his hands, and Luke looked down and then back up, a question on his lips.

"Breakfast," the Mandalorian said softly, placing the meal into Luke's hands. "I know you usually eat later, but try and eat something. We're leaving soon,"

"Thank you," Luke said, his voice dotted with disbelief. He looked down at the second bowl and then to the child, who gurgled unhelpfully. "I'll go and, uh, I'll go and eat with the others,"

"I thought…" the Mandalorian began, his grip on Luke's wrist soft, measured. "I thought we could eat together,"

Luke froze, unsure. He didn't understand his companion's creed, but he respected it. He never removed his helmet, not in front of anyone or for any reason. He ate alone, often on the edge of camp with the baby in his arms. Luke had often wondered if it was lonely if he felt isolated. Eating was a time of laughter, of companionship, and even with the conversation around the fire, Luke's eyes strayed to where he knew his companion was with something close to yearning in his heart.

"Are you sure?" Luke asked, his eyes searching.

"Yes," the Mandalorian said, looking and meeting Luke's eye before reaching down, his hand reaching for Luke's, strong fingers wrapping gently around his. "Come with me?"

"Yes," Luke said.

The Mandalorian led him to the embankment below their tents, putting the bowl on the grass before lowering the baby to his lap. Luke did the same, careful to maintain his distance, but anxious, just the same, to not let go of his companion's hand. His mind swam; he couldn't be trusted with this. His armour was part of the Mandalorian creed; Luke couldn't ask him to remove it, not for Luke. If it was that important to him, he should remove it for someone he cared about, someone he loved —

"You're thinking too loud,"

"So you've said," Luke said, smiling despite his nerves. The bowl of oatmeal sat on his lap, and Luke took a bite just for something to do.

"If you watch…I can take it off. So long as you don't turn and no one sees…"

"Are you sure?" Luke said, and then, softer, resting a hand on his companion's wrist. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable on my behalf,"

"I couldn't…" the Mandalorian said, turning his wrist and taking Luke's hand in return, squeezing it gently. "Not with you,"

Luke grinned, turning his back and settling in. He was facing the camp, but the others were occupied, eating breakfast, making preparations for their trip to Mos Espa. Luke sat very still as the Mandalorian shifted behind him, letting the baby down. He was attentive to every sound, every shift against the sand, knowing that his companion could have already removed his helmet, that he could be there, so close, so exposed, right behind him.

"Can you see the others?" the Mandalorian asks softly. "Can they see us here?"

"No, I don't— the ridge, they shouldn't be able to see behind it," Luke said, stuttering out a breath. Varre, Scoeeri and Laele were doing the washing, Vanth and A'Vod carting water back to the camp for the others to use when they were gone. They were alone, up here on the rise with the wide-open sky before them. Luke looked down, suddenly bashful. Never in his life had someone made him breakfast to seek out his company. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips, and Luke watched with a surge of happiness as the baby toddled out of his father's lap and crawled into Luke's arms.

Behind him, a hiss sounded, and something heavy was set on the ground between them. Luke's heart beat a staccato, clutching both the baby and his breakfast as the realization of his companion's bareness hit him. The Mandalorian trusted him, wanted to spend time with him…after last night, Luke wasn't sure; he couldn't be positive. But something had changed, something extraordinary and cataclysmic shifting into place.

Luke kept his eyes fixed on his bowl, on the child vying for his attention, struggling beyond hope to think past the feeling of beskar against his shoulder, the comfortable weight of his companion's hand in his. Could it be this simple? Could they just be, without words, without explanations…could Luke allow himself to settle into this for his own sake?

The whole of his life had been spent in the service of others, other people's wishes, dreams, hopes. It wasn't until the war was over that Luke took time to think about himself, what he wanted now that his service to them was done. He became a Jedi to save the galaxy and stop the Emperor; he became a pilot, a rebel to win the war. But attachments…Luke had spent so many years meditating, studying, searching desperately for the rationale behind the Jedi's quest for intentional loneliness. Who would choose that life? Because what was life without love, without deepening the trust and affections one felt for those they cared about? The order had forbidden them, but how could you love without becoming attached? How could he become one with another without letting them see all of him?

Luke had only known the Mandalorian for a week, standard. Less than ten days, surely not long enough to feel as deeply as he did. But he did feel them, and now that they were connected, bound together in the force, it was easy to forget. Easier still to focus on the present, on the wind and the sand and the feeling of another in his mind. All the time remembering that he was the last of a once-great order, a Jedi master without a temple, without a home. Without a padawan or a creed he fully understood.

But for now, Luke thought, something close to an ache in his heart. But for now, just for today…could this be enough?

The night before, when they sat on this very hill and spoke to one another in the force, it was the same. It was that sensation of oneness, the warmth, the care …and it was still there, even now. Was this what he had been searching for? Was this who he had been searching for?

A word, a series of rough consonants and gentle vowels came to mind, said in the quiet moments before sleep. It was in Mando'a, of that Luke had no doubt. His companion had murmured it, his voice deep and low through the modulator in his helmet…maybe he hadn't meant for Luke to hear it, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know what the Mandalorian had said.

"The word you said yesterday," Luke said, taking a bite of oatmeal. Behind him, his companion stiffened, his body taut and tight. Luke didn't have to use the force to know that he had done something wrong. But what? Luke dropped his spoon and lowered his bowl, reaching blindly behind him for the Mandalorian's wrist, wishing he hadn't spoken at all.

There was a pause, and Luke struggled not to fill it. He wanted his companion to come to his own conclusion, to complete his own thought process. He didn't want to interrupt, not again. It was important to him that he didn't; Luke wanted this to be at his pace, too.

" Tranyc," The Mandalorian said after a minute, leaning back against Luke and taking his hand, rubbing his thumb over Luke's. His voice was deep, smooth. Luke's breath caught, so this is what he sounded like without his helmet? "It means light of the sun in Mando'a…when I saw you last night, when our minds met… that was what I felt. Sunshine— your mind is bright, like the sun,"

Luke leant into his companion's armour, resting against him as his heart leapt. The baby was all over Luke's oatmeal, but he didn't mind. It was as if he'd been given a gift, something precious and full of intention. In the force, Luke was like the sun.

"I don't fully understand," his companion continued, his voice low and raspy, and something in Luke's belly surged at the sound. "In my head, it used to just be the baby, but now…" the Mandalorian hesitated, searching for the words. "I felt you, pressing as if knocking on a door. I let you in, and you were so warm, so bright. I like it, Luke. Connecting with you, can we…maybe when we're alone... we could try again?

"Yes," Luke said, wanting nothing more than to touch him, pull him near, press his forehead to his companion's in the hopes to feel that closeness again. "Yes, I'd like that too,"

"Did I overstep?" the Mandalorian said, and Luke inhaled too quickly, a shaky breath on his lips. He took Luke's hand, his fingers soft against the inside of his wrist. "You're shaking."

"Your voice…" Luke began, overwhelmed by this but so much more, a tidal wave of happiness. "It's beautiful. I never would've…I thought about it, what you would sound like without your helmet…but maker—"

"Is this okay?"

"Yes,"

"Are you sure —"

"Yes," Luke repeated, sounding out the word, his lips stumbling over the pronunciation. He wanted to say it right, to show him that he could. This mattered to him, his language, Mando'a was the tongue of his people, and he shared it so freely with Luke, with open hands and love in his words. "Thank you, you've no idea…"

"It's a gift," his companion said, his voice soft. "I can't often share it…but when I can, I want to with you."

continued

#family bonding #din djarin/luke skywalker #dinluke #force sensitive din djarin #force bonding #baby yoda #IJADIHIM-xXxVioletSkyxXx

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thisisthe-way · 4 years

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Kings and Wizards

Title: Kings and Wizards Fandom: Star Wars (The Mandalorian) Rating: T Summary: Din Djarin has given Grogu to Luke Skywalker to train. But the connection between the new (reluctant) Mandalorian “king” and the “wizard” Jedi goes deeper than he ever could’ve imagined. And he’s about to learn just how deep.

“It’s time for you to go.”

Din turned his uncomfortably exposed face toward Bo-Katan when she spoke, his brows furrowing as he blinked back the few remaining tears in his troubled brown eyes, pushing the sorrow back and allowing sternness and confusion to fill them instead. He knew what was coming next. Cara seemed to as well, and she spoke before he could: “Can we not do this right now? He just watched his kid leave.” “Which is why I’m giving him a head-start,” Bo-Katan replied, unable to look Din in the face. Din knelt, picking up his helmet, but didn’t deposit it back on his head yet. He approached Bo-Katan and held the darksaber in one final attempt, letting her see all of the raw emotion on his face. “Take it. I yield. It’s over. You have your ship and your weapon.” And the only thing he’d wanted had just flown away with a Jedi. “It doesn’t work--” “Take it,” Din snapped, eyes flaring, his whole face contorting with the pain and frustration. Grogu had been his only priority. He didn’t want to be ruler of anything.

Bo-Katan didn’t move, but she was looking at him now, her knuckles going white as she clenched her fists behind her back. “I can’t, and if you stay, I’ll be forced to kill you and take it.” Din snorted a little and finally placed his helmet on, before attaching the saber to his belt and looking at Cara and Fennec. “Then I guess it is time to go.” The gleaming beskar and dark visor turned toward Bo-Katan and she could feel the cold gaze he was giving her through it. Bo pursed her lips as she watched their backs retreat toward the elevator. She didn’t want this. She glanced down at the unconscious form of Moff Gideon--he had caused this. He had known. Known if he engaged Mando in a battle, and he’d won the saber from him, she would have to then turn around and engage Mando as well. Known that they would instantly become enemies. She also knew that they hadn’t exactly been anything but reluctant allies to begin with, but she had never meant ill-will toward him. She had wanted him to get his child back. She knew all too well what it was like to lose family. It was a pain she didn’t wish on anyone. She looked at Koska as she heard one of the cruiser’s transports being “comandeered” by the fleeing group. She turned her eyes toward the viewport as it left, jumping to hyperspace to meet with Boba Fett and Slave One at a rendezvous point that had not been disclosed to Bo because they had always planned on parting ways with her keeping the cruiser for her purposes. She turned to Koska again. “We’ll give him one day’s head-start,” she murmured, and then turned toward the controls. After all, the ship was only half the battle. She still needed the saber before she could return to Mandalore. And that meant the hunt for that lonely, nameless Mandalorian--she never had asked his name, had she?--would have to begin in haste. She set coordinates for their own safe rendezvous and then sent the cruiser into hyperspace as Koska moved to lock the unconscious Gideon in the brig.

-----------

Nevarro

----------- “Your debt is repaid,” Din said to Boba-Fett as they stood in front of Slave One. “The kid is safe.”

It stung, burned deeper than Din could really put to words, that he wasn’t with him. But even without all the fancy Force powers, he knew Grogu was in better hands with the Jedi than he would be with him. He knew Moff Gideon wasn’t the worst the Galaxy had to offer, especially with someone as powerful and innocent as the child. Worse would come. And not every enemy could be contained or felled by a blaster shot.

Boba Fett nodded and looked at Fennec, who nodded and returned onto Slave One. Boba glanced at the other Mandalorian. “If you have any more trouble,” he clicked some buttons on his wrist-cuff, the electronics beeping and sending a signal to Din’s. “You can find me at these coordinates. If you can afford it.” The smirk was audible even with his helmet masking his face. And the deadpan expression was clear on Din’s visor as his helmet turned toward Boba’s. But he was a member of the Guild. He understood--there was a silent understanding and appreciation between them. Boba nodded once more before following Fennec onto his ship. In only moments, they left atmo, on their way to their next escapade. And Din Djarin was left on Nevarro, shipless, childless, with Bo-Katan’s darksaber attached to his hip. He turned and looked over at Cara Dune, who stood a few feet behind him, frowning apologetically toward him. “I can find you a lead on another ship,” she offered when he caught up to her, walking next to him now as they moved through the archway into the market of the small town.

Din nodded. “I’ll need it. It won’t take Bo-Katan long to find me. I’d rather not bring that battle down on you or your people, Marshal,” he said, the humor evident in his voice when he reached her title. Cara snorted. “I’m not worried about Princess Tight-Ass,” she replied as they entered her office, and she stored her gun away in the corner, sitting down and putting her feet up on her desk. “Let me put some feelers out. Might even be able to find you one like the one you had.”

Din paused as he fingered the small knob tucked into his belt. Grogu’s favorite toy. He chuckled, sadly, to himself, and then nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.” -----

Bracca ------

The little alien flying the transport shuttle was prattling in a language Din didn’t understand as he finally gave him his credits and rolled his eyes under his visor. “Alright, alright, here,” he said as he handed the credits over. He hoped this tip from Cara would pan out. As it was, Bracca was more known for scrapping old starships, not leaving them intact. But they had just received the old patrol gunship on site days prior according to Cara’s contact. So, it was possible, at worst, only a few things had been scrapped off of it so far. Din walked down the landing platform. The planet was entirely coated in old ships and scrap metal, and the entire upper-deck scaffolding of it was made from it, with old scrapping tools built into it. There were caves and crevices of metal everywhere and as Din traveled, ducking through these corridors of rust, it was hard to find anything resembling an office where he could haggle, or even ask about the gunship. Finally, he found a large platform where a makeshift office of sorts had been erected, and he ducked inside, causing many of the scrappers who were talking to the scrapyard’s owner to turn and look at him with a mix of curiosity and fear. The owner looked up. He was no older than 40, with flame red hair, gray peppered into the fiery locks. He was wearing a red poncho, but the proxemics in Din’s helmet alerted him to a weapon underneath--a very familiar weapon. Unfortunately familiar. Din’s eyes widened beneath his helmet and he turned to leave. “You must be the Mandalorian,” the man called out, before murmuring something to his guys with a grin, as they all flitted out to get back to work. “Marshal Dune said you’d be coming.”

Din paused and turned back to him. “You’re the one looking for the old military patrol ship,” he continued. “You’re in luck--we just received one not two days ago. And we’re so behind on our jobs as it were, we haven’t even started dismantling it yet.” Din kept his stance as relaxed as he could. “How much?” “For a fully intact ship that I could scrap and make four times as much on?” the man replied with a grin as he led him out of the make-shift office and onto the platform, letting him look out into the piles of scrap where the unscrapped vessel lay nearly on top. “You’re the one costing me money, Mando. So you better make it worth my while.” Din was emotionally compromised after losing Grogu, it was true. But he was also still a Bounty Hunter, and a negotiator. He was a manipulator--and he was used to winning. “Then,” he began, visor trained on the man. “You let me have it free of charge and no one finds out there’s a Jedi running this backwater scrap heap.”

Despite Din thinking the man might flinch or fidget, instead, a smirk pulled on his lips, and he placed his hands on his hips, chuckling. “The New Republic is pretty accepting of the resurgence of Jedi, Mando. I’d be more concerned to be you.” “There are people out there hunting your kind,” Din replied. “And why are you so sure I’m a Jedi?” the man asked, and then noticed the helmet of Din’s armor tilting toward his hidden belt. “Ah, of course. Forgot those helmets aren’t just fancy head protection.” He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and looked at it fondly, before nodding to the darksaber clipped to Din’s belt. “Seems you have one too--but you’re most definitely Mandalorian. That much is clear. Don’t judge a book by it’s lightsaber, Mando.” Din’s lip curled under his helmet. Damn you, Bo-Katan. He really hated having this thing. “How much do you want?” he grumbled, his voice tight with irritation. “Well, I don’t want to wheel and deal for too long--I’m going off planet soon, and I don’t really have time to go through all the bargaining before I leave. I’ll tell you what--” The man eyed the saber--and then the beskar spear on his back. For a moment, Din thought he was going to ask for one of them--or both. And despite hating the kriffing thing, Din felt hesitant to offer the saber to the man for a ship. The man turned his visibly bright eyes back on Din’s hidden face and grinned. “I’m feeling generous. And, like I said, I’m in a hurry. So, whatever you have to offer--you can take it off my hands.” “Wh--” “Don’t make me change my mind, Mando.” The slight tilt of the helmet clearly conveyed the confusion on Din’s masked countenance beneath as he handed him what was left of his money, and watched as the man called to his crane ships to lift it out and onto a nearby platform. Din made his way toward the ship, pausing for only a moment to look over his shoulder at the man. “Can I ask you something?” “Depends on what it is.” Din wanted to ask about Grogu’s call. How far had it gone? Had all of the leftover Jedi felt it? Yet, he realized, it was true what he had said--a lightsaber could be just another piece of scrap from a forgotten time that had been dumped on this world. There was no proof this man was a Jedi. He shook his head. “Forget it. Thanks--for the ship.” And with that, he turned and continued toward the ship. He was already the size of an ant, making his way up the ship’s ramp when the man heard the familiar hum of his ride--a long-bodied, angle-winged ship that landed on a different platform. He heard the gunship take off, glancing as he caught a glimpse of metal just before the hazy skies of Bracca disguised it. He gave his itinerary to his second in command--a hard-working Twi’lek male--and explained the next few weeks worth of work to him before making his way toward the long, sleek ship, smirking at the dark-skinned woman who emerged. “Cere.” He said. “Cal.” She replied. “Where to?” “Dathomir,” he said. ------ Outer Rim - Open Space

----- Well, she had given him a head-start. It had been about a week since receiving his new ship. He should have known purchasing the exact same model of ship meant putting a bigger target on his back. Bo-Katan would be tracking the transponder signals from ships like his. Of course she would. “It’s a damn laser sword,” Din grumbled to himself as he dodged blaster fire from a light cruiser chasing him through the open space, his hand gripping the knob on his console tightly--a knob he had replaced with Grogu’s.

He felt one of the shots knick his engine, causing him a spiral, and he growled and slammed a hand down on his comms button, “Dank ferrik, Bo-Katan, this isn’t necessary! I told you you could have the damn thing!” ‘It doesn’t work like that, Mando!’ came the response. ‘This is the only way.’ Din snorted to himself at the similarity to his tribe’s saying, realizing more and more there was no real way. His own way would have been…

Having Grogu here with him. He just wanted his son. His consoles began to beep--he realized in his spiral he’d been pulled into the gravitational field of a planet nearby. “Dank ferrik,” he cursed again as he went down, taking another shot to the engine as Bo-Katan’s cruiser followed. Pressing a few buttons on the console and pulling on the steering, he was able to stabilize the ship as it came down hard onto a craggy, rocky, red-orange surface and noticed Bo-Katan’s ship hover for a moment in the blood-red sky before turning and gunning it out of atmo and away. He doubted it had anything to do with changing her mind about her mission to take the Darksaber from him. No, even without Jedi senses, he was very aware that the--darkness--of the planet he was now trapped on more likely had something to do with it. He stood and exited the Razor Crest II--which, really, he just called the Razor Crest--and looked up at his engines. They were billowing smoke from where Bo-Katan had ruined them with her ship’s blaster fire. And now, he was trapped on a planet with little to no vegetation, that seemed to have a perpetual blood sky and dark aura. He shuddered a little under his beskar, and checked to ensure all of his weapons--even the damn saber--were on his person. He had a feeling he was going to need them. He ignited his jetpack and trailed upward into the sky, flying over the sharp, uneven mountainous surface of the red-drenched planet, over the strange trees and a few ugly, ill-willed creatures as well. He even saw a few strange humanoids he didn’t recognize--men with tattooed faces and horns. Something about them felt familiar but he couldn’t place it. He landed in one of the few areas on this side of the planet with vegetation--odd, spiraling trees that had no real leaves, and huge trunks. Their spindly branches had something hanging from them--bulbs that seemed to pulse oddly. Din paused in his stride, his brow furrowing under his helmet. The bulbs began to glow, and suddenly, falling from within them were--”Dank ferrik,” he cursed, when he realized they were forms. Humanoid forms. Female humanoid forms. And they were definitely dead. They began to chase him through the forest, each body enflamed by green energy, shrieking as they ran through the trees with inhuman speed after him. He ignited his jetpack and went to take off, but something--someone--leaped on him. The weight wasn’t light or bony like the corpses that were chasing him. It had real heft--like a person. Suddenly, he heard the familiar whirr of a lightsaber, and his helmet swiveled, looking over his shoulder to find--a woman standing on his back as he flew, crouched with one knee on his jetpack, the other foot standing on his shoulder.

Her ice blue eyes seared into him, the yellow saber in her hand raised, her pale-white skin mostly exposed save for the black short-suit and red tunic wrapped around her midsection. She had the palest blonde, nearly white, hair growing out of her head. “You aren’t welcome here,” her low, raspy, feminine voice hissed as she brought the lightsaber down. Din threw one arm up and blocked the strike just as the woman brought the blade down into his jetpack, and cursed when it didn’t penetrate. “What are you?!” she hissed in irritation, and then felt a pull from something beyond the two of them, looking up and leaping off of the back of the man with a flip as green energy surrounded the jetpack, snapping the straps of it. Din felt himself lose altitude immediately as he went plummeting to the terra firma below, tumbling, and groaning. He pushed himself up almost immediately, and grabbed the Darksaber off of his belt, igniting it to fend off the woman and the corpses, but found the corpses at a stand-still behind his attacker making her look like the grand general of an undead armor. After a few moments of intense staring between the two of them--another came through the crowd of the undead--this one was younger than the woman who had attacked him, though their Dathomirian biology made it nearly impossible to tell, and was wrapped from head to toe in red and black. Her own hair was shrouded by a hood, and she had the green energy crackling from her fingers. “Stand down,” she said to the older woman, who de-ignited her saber and bowed a little. “This is the one he was waiting for.” Din rescinded the blade of the Darksaber back into it’s hilt and clipped it to his belt. He watched as the corpse army was returned to their pods with care, and then the younger woman dropped her hood to reveal her entire face, and a crop of gray-white hair that went half-way down her back. “My name is Merrin. I am the Mother of this clan of two.” “I don’t know what any of that means,” came the electronically amplified voice of the Mandalorian through his helmet. “What are you?” “We are Nightsisters--the rightful rulers of this planet,” Merrin replied. “Welcome to Dathomir.” In that moment, that strange feeling of familiarity at seeing the strange men on the cliffs formed into a full-fledged memory of the Armorer and her teachings: “Our planet was taken--overrun by a man with red skin, black markings and devilish horns. He handed our home over to the Empire. We are wanted men and women--hunted.” “Then why do we take work from the Empire?” a young Din asked.

“This is the way,” the Armorer replied. “It is guild law--we work for those who can afford to pay. But remember, little foundling, we never break the creed of the Mandalorian, no matter what job we are given.” Din had done so. But only once. When he handed a foundling right into the Empire’s hands--his multiple removals of his helmet since, notwithstanding. He had regretted that decision, and gone straight back for Grogu. And his sect had come to his aid. Because their laws far outranked the necessity to bounty hunt. But he remembered now--Dathomirian. A Dathomirian had upheaved Mandalore. He wanted to feel a deeper sense of anger, remorse and frustration toward the women in front of him--or the men he’d seen on the cliffs. But he wasn’t truly Mandalorian. He was a foundling. He had never lived on Mandalore. Being Mandalorian to him was a creed--not a race. And even now, he questioned what being Mandalorian truly was to him anymore. Removing his helmet for Grogu had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Necessary, even. Yet, when he heard Bo-Katan’s voice in his head calling him a child of the Watch, degrading him for his refusal to remove it, he wanted to hide under it forever. A battle raged inside him over what was even right anymore.

And now this--Dathomirian women standing before him, reminding him of what his people had lost before they had even saved him. The battle only grew deeper. “What do you want?” Din asked, eyeing the older one especially. She seemed--unpredictable. Erratic. Her blue eyes were sharp and icy. She was one wrong step or word away from attacking again, kept at bay only by the words of the younger. He wondered why. “I need you to come with me, Mandalorian. He’s waiting for you,” Merrin said, again alluding to some he that Din had no idea about. Who was this he? As if sensing his question, the younger offered a bit of a wry smile. “You’ll be surprised but not entirely shocked, Mandalorian. This whole ordeal is about your son.” Din grew rigid suddenly, and he took a step forward, heavy and purposeful, despite knowing one wrong move could make the older woman lash out. Which she nearly would have if the younger’s hand has not paused her forward motion. DIn spoke, nearly snapped: “What about the kid?” “All will be answered, I promise. You have to come with us, though.” Din was still tense, defensive now that Grogu had been brought up, but he nodded, unable to deny his curiosity, and followed the women through the trees. “I don’t trust him,” grumbled the older woman as she walked next to the younger. “No Mandalorian would ever trust our kind after what Maul did to their planet.” “He’s different,” Merrin whispered back. “He is a foundling; he never lived upon Mandalore. He may know the story but he has no memory of the incident to give him pause in at least listening to what we have to say.” She glanced at the older woman. “Don’t forget who the Mother here is, Ventress.” The older, Ventress, gave a nod. “My apologies.” “You have a lot to atone for; and much to repay,” Merrin continued. “Don’t forget.” “And you don’t forget the promise you made to me,” Ventress replied. “The promise your mate made to me.” The younger chuckled, and smirked at her. “One thing at a time, Ventress. One thing at a time.”

It was hours of walking through the forests when they emerged on a small, abandoned village in the middle of Dathomir--the Nightsister village, that had been abandoned for decades save for one small girl who had grown into a woman during the Clone Wars, and had been found by a young Jedi padawan who had been trying to find his place in the galaxy, and pay back the life he had been spared by the protection of his own Jedi master. The Nightsisters led Din to a small house, made of the same rock and stone as the red-rimmed cliffs of the dour planet. They ducked inside, and Din was met with the smell of food cooking--and was taken aback by the cheer of--was that a child? “Mom!” came a cry, as a young girl with the same pale white skin as the two women, and a shock of long red hair, came bolting out of the next room over and threw herself into the Nightsister, Merrin’s, arms. She was no older than ten or eleven, and she radiated joy at seeing her mother. She reminded Din of Grogu. “Meelah,” the woman said with warmth, kissing her head. “Where is your father?” “You found him,” came a new voice--a very familiar voice to Din--as a very familiar red-headed man stepped out of the back room, cleaning his hands on his poncho, and smirked at the Mandalorian. “Good to see you again, Mando.” “....you are a Jedi, then,” Din said. “You knew where I would end up.” “Mm, in a sense,” Cal Kestis said as he approached the group, watching Ventress slump, huffily, into a chair--and then warm a little herself when Meelah bounced up into her lap. If there was anyone the Sith-apprentice-turned-bounty-hunter had a soft spot for, it was her Sisters. And the young Mother, and her child, had a special place in her heart. She had died--or gotten very close to it--when she had been buried like her Sisters on Dathomir--lovingly buried by hands that had once loved her in one of the burial pods. Little had she known that the young girl’s powers were growing. Somehow, her magic had inadvertently kept her alive--barely--and in stasis. Five years later, when the young man had riled the young Mother’s anger, and she had released the corpses of their Sisters, she had been released as well. Alive. Unexplainable--a bittersweet miracle of the Force. Because Ventress--Asajj Ventress--had already lost everything by then. Order 66 had been executed. All of the Jedi, save for Cal Kestis, were dead.

He was dead. The owner of the loving hands that had buried her five years prior. Her Quinlan. Jedi Master Vos.

It didn’t help matters that the young Mother had begun a romance with Cal. Or that Cal shared Vos’ very unique Force abilities: his psychometry. She saw too much of herself and Vos in the couple. But it also had given her a soft spot for their child. The child that, despite herself, she would have given anything to have with Vos. If he had lived. If she could find him, now. Still, a part of her felt a tug from the Force. As if she had counted Quinlan out too soon, as if he were still out there. But then, would he not have felt her too? Come looking for her? Had he moved on--forgotten about her? She wouldn’t blame him. Still, she wanted to find him. Or at least what had happened to him. For her own closure. And so, she had sworn herself to the new Mother. To Merrin. In return for her service, Cal had been using his powers to try and find Quinlan. So far, no such luck. But at least Ventress had her Sisters back. Merrin, and Meelah. She would kill anyone who might try to harm them. “What does that mean? In a sense?” Din asked, snapping Ventress from her thoughts and memories. “Just because we Jedi have a certain handle on the Force doesn’t mean the things it shows us are always 100% correct,” Cal replied as he approached Merrin and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “When you came to Bracca, I got a feeling you’d be led here. Which is good, because this world is, despite it’s appearance, a safe haven from the leftover dregs of the Empire. It lives somewhere between fear and inconsequence.” He shrugged. “So they don’t touch it. They don’t even know the Nightsisters have a new Mother.” “What does any of that mean?” Din asked again, the frustration now clear in his voice. “This place,” the younger Dathomirian woman said, “used to be ruled by a matriarchal society of magic-wielders known as the Nightsisters. We use the Force in a much darker, more mystical way than the Jedi. My Sisters--they were ruled by a Clan Mother. The most powerful of the Nightsisters.” She glanced at Ventress. “....they were all slaughtered during the Clone Wars.”

A flash of his parents’ faces appeared behind Din’s eyes. “I was all that remained--or so I thought,” Merrin said, looking at Ventress. “Because I was the only living, practicing Nightsister left on Dathomir, the last of the Clan Mother’s powers were inherited unto me. I became the Mother. All things on Dathomir bow to my will now.” “Because the Nightsisters were slaughtered, and the Nightbrothers are too primitive in their machinations without a Mother to guide them, the Empire didn’t think Dathomir was much of a threat,” Ventress mumbled. “They left it alone to rot on it’s own. But Merrin preserved it to the best of her abilities.” “And?” Din said, glancing at the other two near Merrin. “And you’ve met Cal. And this is Ventress--Asajj Ventress.” Merrin said, looking at the older woman. “She was one of my Sisters in the pods, when Cal brazenly stepped foot on my planet without permission. When I released my fallen Sisters on him--she emerged in tact.” “How?” Din asked--none of this Force fodder made any sense to him. “Not entirely sure,” Cal said. “It’s speculated that a connection to the dark side can keep someone alive if they have enough rage inside of them to will it to. But the Nightsister magic lands somewhere in between light and dark. Ventress has the magic in her despite barely using it. And she used to be a Sith. It could be any combination of her will to live, her former connection to the dark side, and the strength of Merrin’s magic as the Mother that kept her alive. We don’t know for sure.” Din sat down--his head was reeling now. He remembered the other Jedi woman, Ahsoka Tano, mentioning the dark side. But she had said it with a sort of fearful reverence. As if it were something to be avoided, because the power of it was too great. Too dark. And yet this Jedi--he was in cahoots with those known to tap into the dark. And he didn’t seem phased or frightened at all. He had even had a child with one of them. It was almost as confusing as his sudden uncertain understanding of the Mandalorian creed. It seemed more and more that the galaxy was settling on middle-grounds rather than bold black and white strokes. But was it supposed to be that way? “Fine--fine, alright--then why am I here?” Din asked. “Why do you think your Force-thing brought me to you twice, Jedi?” “Simple: two things,” Cal said as he sat down at a small table in the middle of the room and looked at Din straight in his helmet, as if he could see the eyes and face beneath perfectly. “I was once looking for Force-sensitive children left in the galaxy, to try and rebuild the Jedi Order. I abandoned that mission, realizing that once upon a time, we, as Force sensitives, didn’t have a choice but to be raised in the Temple, raised as Jedi. I didn’t think it was my right to take that choice away again. Which brings me to point number two…” Din’s brows furrowed under his helmet. “I knew Grogu,” Cal said, finally, and then shrugged. “Not well, mind you. I had seen him around the Temple. Training, as I did, before I was chosen as a padawan and taken to finish my training on my Master’s light cruiser above Bracca. But I knew him--he and I were two of the few lucky ones who weren’t slaughtered that night.” Din leaned back heavily in his chair as he looked into Cal’s face--saw the sincerity, and the pain. The memory of losing everything. Then, he straightened. “Okay, so?” “Do you know who you gave your son to, Mando?” Cal asked, frowning a little. “The Jedi you let him leave with?” “No,” Din admitted. “I don’t know anything about any of this.” Cal leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “His name is Luke Skywalker,” he murmured, “and he’s the son of the man who killed all of the younglings that night in the Temple.” Din tensed immediately, and shot up, and Cal got to his feet as well, throwing up his hands to stop him. “Wait!” Cal said, shaking his head. “It’s okay; Luke is a good man--I’ve sensed his sincerity. He isn’t like his father was at the end. But there is something about him that troubles me.” Cal glanced at Merrin, and frowned. “He does want to restore the Jedi Order. Train younglings in the ways of the Jedi, the ways that constricted so many of us before. I realized after becoming a Knight--and then meeting Merrin, that the ways of the original Order were stifling.” He looked at Din. “Attachments are forbidden. No familial, or romantic, attachments are allowed. Master and apprentice only.” Din’s heart sank into his stomach as he remembered Ahsoka’s words on Corvus. I can’t train him, she had said, his attachment to you is too strong. “Unfortunately, Luke allows himself one exception to this rule,” Cal continued as he stood and picked his daughter up off of Ventress’ lap and held her. “His twin sister, who he is also training.” He chuckled as Meelah laid her head on his shoulder. “Basically, what I’m saying is his relationship with the Force is an enigma. It’s unclear how he’ll train Grogu. What boundaries he’ll insist on. And he isn’t the only Force wielder who heard Grogu’s call.” He smirked when he saw the helmet jerk up to look at him. “You were going to ask me that on Bracca,” he said, “but you hesitated because you didn’t know if I was trustworthy.” “We all felt the pull,” Merrin said, and glanced at Ventress. “All of us.” Din suddenly put two-and-two together. “...it wasn’t just Jedi who felt it.” “No. And I think that puts your little green son in a lot of danger,” Cal murmured. “Luke Skywalker is a hero--a very powerful Jedi. But even he wouldn’t be able to fight off an onslaught of Dark side users if they all descended on Grogu all at once. He’ll need help.” Din stood, suddenly resolute in what he had to do. He looked at the Force wielders before him--the Jedi, the former Sith, the Nightsister--and asked, “Are you offering? Because--” He paused, and glanced at Meelah, tucked against her father. He was reminded of holding Grogu in those last moments before he handed him to Luke. “--that kid means everything to me. With, or without your help, I’m going to look after him.” Cal glanced at Merrin, who approached him and Meelah, and placed one hand on each of their backs. She had determination in her eyes as well. Cal nodded, and then looked at Din and smirked. “Then, let’s get started.”

#the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #grogu #baby yoda #fanfiction #star wars: the fallen order #cal kestis

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