#been a while since I shared some moffe with u all so it was about time

[happyheidi]

𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁! ♡ 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅! 𝖸𝖾𝗌 𝖨 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗆𝖾 🙈

[moskaisley]

migraine pt. 5 | relief

gif cred: @coredrive

rating: mature

word count: 4k platinum hi def TV

warnings: angst but also some comfort bc everyone is in their feelings, violence, descriptions of fighting and blood, mentions of death 

a/n: 

me: yea i’ll post by 8pm!!! also me @ midnight:

 i got slammed with some work from my job last minute so thats why she’s a couple hours late!! such is the life of a freelancer but thank u all for being patient anyway hehe. anyways!! i’ve had a LOT of ideas for side stories lately and i’m thinking of posting them in between the main parts of migraine so maybe look out for that??? 

and thank u all for your kind words on part 4!!! ily all and i hope u enjoy this one. alexa play in my feelings by drake  🥺🥺🥺

summary:

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

Where you find the strength to feel it all at once.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m going on ahead.” 

“Well, I’m not coming with you.”

He scrunches his nose, nostrils flaring. You refuse to look him in the eye.

“Seriously?”

You pick at the threads in the thin blanket on your legs with your nails. He’s fully dressed, standing in the doorway of your tiny dwelling. You’re still in your cot, your last chance to flee with him slipping away with every string you pull.  But fear claws at your insides, paralyzing you in your spot. You hear him shuffle, kneeling beside the bed and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Please, help me stop them,” he pleads.

Your lip quivers, tears threatening to spill over. He’s such a beautiful boy. You loved and loathed his courage; Luca was always braver than you were, fighting off bullies in the schoolyard and sneaking out after dark. He was the first one to defy the Moff when he showed up at your doorstep, and he was the quickest to arm when they came blasters ablazing. But while Luca had moved forward ready to enact his revenge, you were still stuck in front of your burning home, heat blistering against your skin and pathetic tears streaming down your face. You’re still frozen at the other end of a blaster, cowering on your knees before a man clad in black. You’re still being ushered away down the country road with your brother, two very distinct shots ringing through your ears. 

But Luca doesn’t understand. 

“We’ll die, just like them.”

“Don’t you want to die fighting?”

You tear a hole in your blanket.

“I don’t want to die at all, Luca.”

--

You haven’t spoken to him in days. 

It was quite impressive, really.

Ever since your breakdown, you denied yourself any sort of contact with the Mandalorian, bitterness and hurt still raw every time you looked at him.  At first, he tried to get you to respond to him, prodding with simple questions and painfully awkward small talk. But when his one-sided conversations were only met with more eerie silence, Mando took the hint and stopped trying altogether. You didn’t spend too long in the same space with him either; you made sure to work on opposite sides of the ship. Shifts were still maintained at night to watch over your camp while the other slept; but when it was his turn to take over, you only woke him with a wordless shove and quickly slipped into your bunk to get your share of rest.

Sleep never came.

Instead, you aimlessly tossed on the mattress for hours and hours on end, mind torn over the man standing outside your door. You loathed him, you were sure of it. He hurt you, more than anyone ever had. Took everything and crushed it beneath his boots. Then had the audacity to come back and ask for a favor. It was time to just let it all go; to push it far behind you and go on forward with your heart guarded and barred from the rest of the universe. To live and die alone. 

So why was the thought of never seeing him again making your chest tighten with agony?

You dug your face into your pillow a few times, letting out guttural, violent screams of frustration until your voice nearly gave out.

You should be angry with him. He left, he left, he left.

Just like Luca.

In those solitary hours, you thought a lot about your brother, and how painfully similar this all felt: The resentment that festered in your bones clashing with the deep love and care that resided in your heart. You didn’t want to forgive, but living with these thorns in your side was so fucking exhausting. You wondered if the universe doomed you from birth, never destined for a moment of peace. The warring feelings within you made it impossible to sleep easy, and soon enough, the sun would come up. Mando would be outside rapping on your door and you’d start the day over again. Rinse and repeat.

By the fourth day, the lack of sleep had caught up to you. 

Precariously perched on top of a ladder, you took the day to work on the repulsor grilles. Your mind was in a daze. You struggled to figure out which parts go where, and your hands were so clumsy you kept losing your tools to the small slot you’d been tinkering with. After dropping your screwdriver for what seemed to be the seventh time today, you were so fed up that any caution was thrown into the wind. Hot metal and active wires were the least of your worries as you carelessly shoved your hand down the slot for your lost tool. Your fingers grazed the handle, but as you shifted to get a better angle, you felt a burning shock shoot through your arm. You all but ripped your hand from the slot, wincing as you feel something tear at your palm. Your sudden movement was enough to drive the ladder toppling over. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact. You hear a low grunt as your body collides into Mando’s, strong arms quickly wrapping around your waist to steady you. Your cheeks grow hot at the feeling of him, and for a moment, your body pleads to stay in his arms just a little longer.

“Are you okay?” the low timbre of his voice brings you back from your panic. 

You quickly push off of him but hiss at the searing pain radiating from your hand. Turning over your palm, you grimace at the big nasty gash that gushes down your forearm with blood. Mando grips your shoulder and spins you around, trying to take your injured hand. 

“Let me see.” 

“I’m fine.” 

You recoil, holding your palm close to your chest and bleeding all over your shirt. Impatient, he goes in to grasp your wrist and wrestles with you again. 

“Will you quit being difficult and hold still?” he growls, voice devoid of any softness. The edge in his voice makes you freeze. It’s the first time on this journey that he spoke so firmly with you. Too tired to fight, you let him take your hand into his and study your injury. 

“Sit,” He lets go of your hand and gestures to the ground. “You’re going to need stitches. And then you’re going to rest. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you grit.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he chided harshly, as if lecturing a child, “I don’t need someone wrecking my ship more than it already has. You can work when you’re capable.”

He briskly storms back into the ship to grab the medpack, effectively ending your spat. Collapsing to the ground, you curse under your breath in irritation as you stare at your stinging cut. A piercing ache begins to radiate in your temples and weariness starts to settle into your bones. You’re so tired. The emotional turmoil of the past week had sucked every drop of energy you had left, and you were left feeling like you’d been hit with a landspeeder. 

A worried coo draws you from your thoughts, and the child looks up at you expectantly. 

“Hey, little guy,” you said, patting his head lightly with your free hand. He gingerly toddles to your thigh and tilts his head at your bloody palm. The kid begins to fuss, gurgling as he claws at the side of your leg. You scoop him up into your lap, and he settles down, satisfied.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” 

Then, he closes his eyes and holds his hand out, hovering over yours. You feel the flesh on your wound begin to move. Your gash is closing before your eyes and the skin is completely healed, as if it was never there at all. You pressed your fingers into your palm; the burning pain had subsided and the skin beneath it was completely smooth. Brows furrowed, your eyes dart from your hand to the child, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Your mind is racing. You hear Mando shuffle back out from the Crest, quickly dropping beside you and checking your hand.

You’re both stunned to silence as the child in your lap falls fast asleep.

--

Early mornings in the forest were cold.

You’d been shivering in front of the fire for a few hours now, wrapped in a threadbare blanket you’d taken from your bed. You stared pensively at your palm, gently tracing your fingers over where a cut should’ve been. With a sigh, you hug your legs to your chest, and rest your forehead on your knees. After the child healed your injury, you thought your shock would’ve kept you from getting rest, but you slipped into sleep the second your head hit your pillow. You woke up later in the middle of the night, insisting to trade shifts with Mando. 

“I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday,” you told him, “Go to bed.”

In all honesty, you needed the early hours of dawn to collect yourself as your mind was all over the place. Between the mysterious child, your clashing feelings for your partner and your impulsive career change, your life had seemed to unravel in the span of a week. You thought of the way he spoke to you the day before; he was quick to care for you, but his voice was emotionless and cold. It sounded very similar when he left all those years ago. You know he only means to keep distance between you and respect your wishes. After all, you were the one who wanted to separate for good after this mission, but the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you could only come to a single conclusion: the Mandalorian had successfully derailed your life yet again.

The cry of an animal pulls you from your brooding and you’re swift on your feet with a vibroblade in hand. Stalking around the trees, you keep low in the foliage and slowly move towards the source of the noise. You see a fathier standing on the main trail hooked to a lopsided wooden wagon. Fruit and vegetables were spread all around the road along with a broken wheel. An old man rounded the corner, looking tiredly around him and began picking up the mess. The grip on your blade relaxes. Standing to your full height, you walk forward to meet him on the main path.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call to him, “Do you need help?”

He gawks at you, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the forest. He gives you a smile.

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, child.”

You learn that his name is Amir. He’s a farmer with fields down the road, and for the past 50 years, he’d make the trip every weekend into town to sell his harvest on the same wagon. He tells you how the fathier lost control, pulling the old carriage and damaging the wheel. 

“I suppose I must invest in those blasted speeder-whatevers,” he sighs. 

You chuckle lightly. He sounds like your father. 

“Please, let me fix it for you.”

Amir sits on a rock to the side of the trail, and you try your best to repair the wagon. Making light conversation with him as you work, you spoke of your own family’s orchard and recounted the times you spent on the farm. His company relaxes you and for a moment, you’re able to forget the chaos that consumed your thoughts earlier. 

“It’s hard work, this life,” he says, “but it is fruitful all the same.”

You laugh earnestly at his joke. He smiles at you warmly, patting his hands on his knees. 

“Where is your family now?”

“They were lost to the Empire. Our farm was burned down.” 

He sighs sadly, “War seems to take from us both. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please, don’t be. It happened a long time ago,” you say quickly.

A beat of awkward silence passes. Amir changes the subject.

“So what are you doing here? In these woods. You look less like a farm girl and more like a mercenary.”

“Close. I’m a bounty hunter. Our ship crashed just past those trees.”

“You’re with someone else?”

“Yes. A Mandalorian. He’s–” you pause, thinking carefully over your words, “He’s just an old colleague of mine.”

But Amir is a very observant man, and he notices your hesitation.

“Tell me more about this Mandalorian of yours. I’ve never met one before.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say sheepishly, “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“A long story?” He questions, mischief flashing in his eyes, “I thought he was just a colleague.”

Warmth travels to your cheeks as he looks at you expectantly.

Cheeky old bastard.

But you indulge him, giving him a watered-down version of your history with Mando; how you met, how you worked together for many years before you parted ways, and how he came back asking you to help with his weird magical son. Amir listened intently, and when you finished, his face was pulled in thought.

“It’s a bit odd for a bounty hunter to have a child, isn’t it?” He wonders aloud, “I take it isn’t the safest profession in the world. I could see how he could need the help.”

You chew on your bottom lip, attention focused on twisting a screw. 

“We... didn’t split on the best terms. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I see.”

Amir notes your sudden change in demeanour, observing the way you tensed at the subject. 

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

So you answered him honestly.

“I’m angry with him.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. 

“My dear, you can be angry with someone and still love them.” 

What a nosy man. 

You shrug laughing lightly with him as you go back to work. As you mull over his words, you find them resonating deep within you. Had it been anyone else, you probably would’ve ignored or straight-up denied the question, but connecting with Amir had made you feel comfortable to speak freely. It felt cathartic to put your feelings into words. 

“You know, Imperial soldiers occupied the town for many, many years. My daughter decided to join the rebellion after she joined the local militia. We got into a terrible argument, begged her not to fight, to stay home but–” Amir struggles to finish. You’d stopped your tinkering with the wheel, instead listening carefully to his story. Your heart twisted, as the grief he felt was very familiar. You reached out to hold his wrinkled hand, giving him a sad smile. 

Amir takes a breath, looking wistfully towards the treetops as he continues,

“Sometimes, when people hurt us, we think we want nothing more to do with them. But when they’re gone, we only regret the love we never spoke out loud.”

-- 

Din thought he was dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking food. 

When he left the Razor Crest, you were feeding the child a small bowl of sautéed vegetables and rice. To the side of the camp, he spotted bags of fresh produce and grain. You greet him with a relaxed grin.

“You know, some of the things you’ve kept in there haven’t been touched since we split. It was kind of disgusting.”

He’s so confused.

“Where did you get all of this?” He asks.

“There was a man who broke down on the side of the road. I helped fix his wagon and he gave us food in return.”

You pat the child’s head as he finishes up his meal and take him into one arm. Din only stares, bewildered, as you pick up a dish that was sitting by the fire pit and hold it out to him. 

“Eat. And when you’re done, come find me,” you say, “We need to talk.”

--

“We need to talk.”

Words stronger than any weapon. 

Anxiety churned in his stomach, nearly rendering him incapable of keeping any food down. But your cooking was leagues better than any ration pack that he’d had in weeks; Din wasn’t about to (literally) throw the opportunity away, especially if this was some of the last moments he’d ever have with you. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, heart warming at the way you made it especially spicy for him. From the window of the cockpit, Din watched you leisurely skip rocks across the water while the child excitedly wandered along the shore. It was almost unsettling how quickly your energy had changed within a day; it reminded him of the days before he left. The days where there wasn’t a giant rift between you. 

When he finished his meal, Din rounded the corner of the ship expecting to see you at the shore, but you were nowhere to be found. He approached the edge of the water and stared at the abandoned pile of smooth stones. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly tugged by his arm and thrown flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, chest heaving for air and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, you meandered into his view.  He expected to see your face contorted with rage once again, but to his surprise, your expression was cool and collected as you pulled at the wraps around your hands. 

“We’re gonna spar,” you say, tone suspiciously even, “And you’re gonna tell me everything about the kid.”

Din stares, bewildered as you tower over him.

“Why?”

You still don’t look at him directly, instead tugging tightly at the cloth against your wrist and checking if you’re satisfied with your work. 

“If memory serves me correctly, we’re still evenly matched. 350 to 350,” you say, not even bothering to address the second part of your demands. 

But Din will take whatever you give him at this point, so he complies and swipes at your ankles with his legs, knocking you down. Taking the opportunity to get back onto his feet, he squares himself into position. You propel yourself back to your feet with much more grace, brushing yourself off and bringing up your fists. Din swears he can see faint lines of a smile on your lips and a glint of excitement in your eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Even if I’m mad at you.”

He smirks. 

“Never.”

--

You were always better at close combat than he was; the nature of your preferred weapon required so. But what Din lacked in skill, he made up for in stamina, and that’s why he was able to keep your little competition even for such a long time. Your fight had been going for nearly an hour, and at this point, you’d normally tire out and start getting sloppy from exhaustion. But your residual feelings of frustration and dream of kicking his ass for the past three years kept you fierce on your toes. It also helped that he had a story to tell. 

You listened attentively as Mando told you of the Mudhorn in between your relentless assault of jabs and kicks, how the child used his strange powers to lift a giant beast and how it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He also told you how he actually delivered the kid to the client, but turned back to rescue him before the Imperials had a chance to do any harm. (You noted how his voice dipped slightly in shame admitting this to you.) He told you of Sorgan, Tatooine and his reunion with Ran, and how no matter what system he seemed to end up in, the child was always in danger. As you processed this information, your attention seemed to slip, and Mando was able to throw a punch straight into your nose. 

You stumble backwards, cursing at the pain and feeling warm liquid pooling on your upper lip. He relents for a moment, pacing towards you in worry.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” 

You cut him off by gripping his arm, using his momentum to drive him over your shoulder and throw him on his stomach. Pressing your boot into his back and pinning him firmly against the ground, you tease.

“Not the first time I had you like this, Mando.”

You keep your foot firm against him as he struggles to push himself up against you, heavy breaths crackling through the vocoder of his helmet. Eventually, he relents and holds up his hands in surrender.

Pride blooms warmly in your chest, and you collapse on the ground next to him.

I nearly broke one of his ribs this time. You’re dizzy as you come down from the high of adrenaline coursing through you, exhaustion settling into your sore body. 

“If I sustain another injury on this stupid mission, I’m taking all the credits for myself,” you say, wiping the blood gushing from your nose. 

You hear him chuckle lightly beside you.

“You deserve it. I’ve been a total ass.”

“That, you have.” 

Catching your breath, you focus on the sounds of birds in the trees, and the feeling of wind cooling and relaxing your body. It was so tempting to just give into him, but you remembered what you called him here for– why you initiated a duel in the first place. The talk with Amir this morning helped clear your head, but it still terrified you to address it all. 

You take a deep breath, basking a little longer in this moment of peace. 

“Thanks for not holding back,” you said earnestly, pointing to your nose.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from your clothes, you turn to him and hold out a hand.

“Are we good?” he asks, hope slipping through his voice.

“No. Not even close,” your lips curl into a sad smile, “But it’s a start.”

You pull him up to his feet, and your grasp on one another lingers for a fleeting moment. You’re the first to let go, brushing your sweaty palms against your pants. Walking to the shore of the lake, you take a few rocks in your hands and continue skipping them across the still surface of the water. Your heart is racing; you feel his gaze on you, expectant for … something, anything. 

“When my brother left to become a rebel,” you began, voice taught with anxiety, “I was only 18 years old. For a long time, I was so angry with him. Who leaves their only family behind? Alone? To fend for themselves? I was–I was convinced I didn’t care what happened to him after that. That I hated him. ”

Something painful catches in your throat. You skip another rock.

“We were so young. He wanted to take me with him, y’know? Find the Moff that killed our family and get revenge. Destroy the Empire and end their reign of terror. I was too afraid; all I could think about living to see another day. But after a while, I missed him so much–I just wanted my family again. I started to regret not going with him, but then I met you.”

Mando didn’t respond, listening carefully and hanging on your every word.  

“And when you came along, it felt... nice to let someone in again. Not just as a coworker but as a friend. To not be alone. To have someone in my life. To– ”

To fall deeply, wholly, and beautifully in love.

Frustrated, you grip the smooth stone in your hand tightly. You feel like you’re rambling; there’s just so much.

Mando finally speaks, “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m still hurt and angry,” your voice was beginning to tremble, “That being abandoned for a second time was the worst feeling in the galaxy.  I need you to know that.”

You hear him walk towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Mesh’la, please look at me,” he pleads.

“But I also need you to know that and I left things like this, I’d never find peace.”

You turn around to face him, tears in your eyes and heart leaping in your throat.

“Because there was a time where I thought I’d know you forever. And I don’t want to let it go.” 

--

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thx loves 💘