#but I’ll be sad if din’s really dead :(

[bellarkeandclintashaandsuch]

Chains of Heart is going to be one of those dramas that drives me crazy because I want to know what’s going on so badly. I’m already desperate to know how it ends.

Is Peter actually Din? But they found Din’s body. But it was Peter in the mask who broke into the house, right? Why did he kiss Ken (first of all while he was asleep) when his mouth was covered by his mask. Why did he pull down his comforter to check his tattoos? Was he verifying that was him? Does he not fully remember things? IS HE DIN?! Because otherwise what was the stargazing parallel for? They were at a bridge connecting them even though something is keeping them apart! And is Ken’s dad not his real dad? His friends said he left his parents back in Thailand, so why does he call him dad? Wouldn’t both his friends leaving immediately after finding Din’s body be suspicious and lead the bad guys to Ken? Why does Peter wear gloves? Will that underworld doctor, who clearly does not care for hygiene or the wellbeing of his patients, show up again? How could that be Din though? His whole face is different? And who is Shoes Guy? The one who actually shot Din off the cliff and then seemed to be in the crowd in whatever place Ken is now?

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: Clan of Three

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 7.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, massive injuries, some wholesome moments, sad as fuck father-daughter moments, massive angst, PTSD

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“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all,” Gideon turns around looking at his fellow warlords, “Long Live the Empire!”

“It is time to retake our home world….I need volunteers from both tribes.”

“I will go.” “I will go.” “I will go.” “I will go.”

“Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?”

“We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.” They lower their heads slightly bringing a hand to rest over their hearts.

“I will only wear a dress on Naboo. I was told that it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. And there are lakes and waterfalls and fields of flowers and planets as far as the eyes can see. So if you want me to wear a dress it has to be on Naboo.”

“With the uncomfortable shoes?” He asks and you smirk, “We’ll see.” The two of you stare at each other a silence falling over you two its two magnetics coming together. His hand covers your eyes the other pulling off his helmet then his lips meet yours.

“Look, I have no idea what that boy’s intentions are, but…I do know that he would be lucky to have you.” Din says and you lift your head up looking at the older man, “Really?” You ask and he nods and it grows silent once more before you speak up.

“Do you feel like everything is going right that it’s meant to go wrong?” You voice your fear for only him to know, “Every time we get close to winning something horrible goes wrong,” Your tone gets slightly frantic all the possibilities making you more nervous.

Din grabs your shoulders making you look at him, “I promised you I was never leaving you and I’m not. Ever.” He reassures and you nod before he pulls you into his arms just holding you there. His chin rests on the top of your head nothing is said between the two of you but you could tell he meant every single one of his words.

“I love you, dad…” You say and he freezes slightly before his arms squeeze you tighter to him, “Love you too, kid.”

“Those aren’t Mandalorians.” You call out as they immediately take fire, ambushing you all, “They’re Imperials! Take cover.” All the Mandalorians take cover firing at them.

“It’s an ambush!”

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place,” He says, and you are unmoving. Moff Gideon was back. He finds delight in seeing the horror and pure terror in your expression as the Mandalorians behind the blast door has no choice but to watch. “Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from beskar alloy,”

“Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers.” He orders and Bo-Katan slams her fist against the glass.

“No!” the Klaxon alarm blares as the Interceptors and Bombers are activating, “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.”

“Kaz, get up. Kaz, kriffing get up and fight. Please stop! Please don’t do this…I’ll do anything please don’t I beg you!” You shout as he takes in your features one last time though tear-filled and bloody you still look beautiful in his eyes, “Kaz, please get up!”

“I love y-” The blade cleaves through his body as a scream of anguish rips through your throat.

“None of this would have occurred if you had accepted. He’s dead because of your actions, princess.” Gideon mocks you as you’re sent into a spiral sobs racking your body and hyperventilating from the shock that has taken over.

You didn’t deserve happiness…you would never love again. You had nothing left in you to love. Your happiness, your love, and yourself had died right alongside him held in his arms with dead promises to visit the far-off planets you dreamed of.

You were in a daze as the commandos practically dragged you through the halls, and you didn’t hear Din’s shouts, didn’t hear anything it was a blur until you were brought into a room and you’re dropped to your knees and chained to the floor. It repeated in your head like a broken melody, his face…his beautiful face draining of life.

“I love y-” Drain of tears as you felt no emotion, you didn’t feel sadness, loss, anger, sorrow, anything. It was empty. The doors before you open up but you barely acknowledge it glance up and seeing Gideon enter removing the beskar helmet and holding it to his side a malicious grin on his face.

“Where’s the fight, dear princess? That fire….that rage… not going to get your revenge?” He taunts standing before you and you gaze up at him, your eyes red and puffy your throat strained and dry from your sobs and screams.

“Just kill me already…I have no use for you.” Your voice is dead and flat and he chuckles his hand grabbing your chin your lifeless eyes are forced to look up at his wicked gaze, “Oh but that would make things so much easier for you wouldn’t it? Be reunited with your Mandalorian..” He rises dropping your chin and your head drops down.

“Get comfortable you’ll have front-row seats to witness the purge of your people and end the Mandalorians once and for all.” He says and your empty heart feels a twinge of worry for your family scattered across this base.

Din’s mind was running wild since the ambush seeing Moff Gideon had escaped the New Republic, seeing Kaz die and you getting taken away. Your screams and cries burned into his mind. You were fallen down a rabbit hole he barely got you out of the first time this worst. The two commandos force him down a hall and he shoves against one of them and then kicks his foot against the wall having them all stumble away from him. Breaking free from one of them flipping the other as he grabs the vibroblade cutting his bonds at his feet and quickly stabs the commando closest to him. Dodging the blaster fire that hits his beskar armor sudden heat against him from the flamethrower as he grabs their wrist slamming it to the ground. Pulling him into a chokehold and snapping his neck as a cable wraps around Din’s neck pulling him back he struggles as he sees the blaster in the commando's hand. It’s suddenly grabbed and destroyed,

“No. No. No. No. No.” Grogu presses the vocal button and Din stabs the commando with the blade the two hitting the ground. Gasping for air as Grogu sprays a bacta spray in his face as he tries waving him off coughing with his tied hands, “I'm okay. I'm okay…help me up,” Grogu pulls Din to his feet before holding his wrist out, “Will you cut me loose?’

Pressing the button gives a ‘yes’ and frees him from his restraints and he rubs his wrist, “Thank you for your help. Grogu, I'm going to need you to be brave for me, okay?” The small child babbles, “We can't keep running. If we don't take out Moff Gideon, this will never end. We have to find your sister as well. You with me?” A yes comes from IG-12 and the two make their way through the base to find and finish off Moff Gideon and save you.

In the cave system escaping from the following commandos, a transmission comes through Bo-Katan’s comms, “Bo-Katan, come in.” “Received. Where are you?” She sighs in relief glad to hear him alright.

“We're safe. I escaped. I've got the kid,” He says and her worry picks up slightly only hearing one kid with him, “And Y/n where is she?”

“I don’t know, I’m looking for her…I'm going after Moff Gideon. Do you have a location?” Din explains and Bo-Katan sighs leading her people through the caves, “No. We are under attack. I have to get the troops to safety.”

“Understood,” Din says moving through the halls followed by Grogu,

“Stay safe.” Bo-Katan responds their contact broken as the Captain calls out to them, “If we escape to the surface, I know where we can hole up.” He explains and they all take off to the surface. Bo-Katan worries for the people around her, her small family in Gideon’s base, and prays Woves gets to the ship before the Imperials do.

You hear the doors open behind you as Gideon stands before a large hologram map, “Sir, the fighters and bombers have launched,” A commando says, “Their capital ship will soon be destroyed.”

Gideon is silent before speaking up, “But the Mandalorian has escaped.” Your heavy head perks up slightly upon hearing the news. Din had escaped. He was moving through this base. The whirring of Gideon’s armor as the Commando looks at him waiting for orders,

“Shall we engage?” The helmet is put on Gideon and you hear his modulated “No, I'll take care of him myself.” A hoarse chuckle comes fills the room and the commando stiffens Gideon is silent as it starts soft until it’s the only thing he can hear seeing your head shake. You look up at him the blood mouth and chin dried the hollow look in your eyes having a spark of malice.

“You’re dead…he’s gonna kill you.” You rasp a huff of laughter in your tone and you hear the whirring of his armor as it curls into a fist, “You won’t even last a minut-” A beskar-infused punch across your face sends you on your side. Stars fill your vision as you try to calm the queasiness that fills you. Glancing back up at him seeing double him. Gideon looks seeing the indifference despite the split brow and the quickly forming bruise on your eye.

“Gar oyay cuyir jaon Gideon..” (Your life is over) You whisper venom in your voice and he uncurls his fist before stepping back, “Prepare her for the Mandalorian’s arrival.” Gideon orders and you see the doors before you slide open and out step three guards dressed in red armor each holding intimidating weapons. Gideon backs away as one of the guards pulls over a  chair. Creating slack in the chain on the ground before shoving you to the seat. You don’t get time to adjust a fist knocking the wind out of you with a punch to the gut. You curl inward but your hair is grabbed pulling you back up as a fist bashes into your face blood spills to the floor.

“You’re….you’re all..going…to die..” You wheeze out your head hanging a river of red coming from your nose and mouth, your body crying out in pain but you weren’t going to let them see. You feel one of the guards behind you seize one of your arms and you feel the strain as it’s forced to bend unnaturally, “No…no…no no!” A snap fills the air producing a scream from you as your elbow snaps and you lean forward heaving in pain. Tears and blood blur your vision, fire runs through your body as the broken limb is let go of. Gideon turns away leaving the room the sounds of your screams and begging as the torture begins rings through his head. You were going to be a great present for your Mandalorian.

Din moves through the halls skillfully followed by IG-12 controlled by Grogu, “R5. Come in, R5,” Din calls through his comms and a beeping response comes through from the surface, “I need you, buddy. You're gonna have to scomp into the base and get me the location of Moff Gideon's command center.” Hesitant beeping makes Din sigh as he peeks around a corner, “I'm sorry, I don't speak Binary. I'm counting on you.” Moving throughout the base avoiding commandos he calls back out to the droid, “R5, how are those schematics coming?” A schematic of the base appears, “Got it. Good job, buddy. That's the command center. The communications log says that's where he operates from. That's where we're goin'.” Din points at the blinking dot representing the command center on the hologram map.

“Ready?” He looks over at Grogu who coos, “Stay close. Let's go.” With only his skills Din moves through the halls before reaching the hall leading to the command center with barrier shields stopping any from entering, “The command center is down there. I don't have any weapons so this might get messy. R5. There are some barrier shields. I'm gonna need you to deactivate them one at a time.” The droid beeps understanding his assignment, “On my command. Got it?”

Din peeks around the corner seeing the multiple rows of guards he would have to take one, “Deactivate the first shield.” The red shield comes and Din rushes forward throwing a swing at the guard closest to him sending him to the ground and kicking his leg out hitting the other one. Grabbing the guard getting up barely dodging a blaster fire that kills the one in front of him. Spinning him to deflect the attack with the dead guard’s shield he pulls the knife from his belt while throwing it. It lodges into the other's neck and Din rushes forward to grab the blaster but the guard falls back into a drop disappearing.

“R5, next shield.” Din calls out as the second barrier opens controlled by the droid his two enemies armed with electro-riot batons and shields. Rushing forward kneeing on in the face sending him crashing into the barrier and quickly deflecting the attack from the guard behind him bringing him to the ground. Grabbing the baton jamming into the space between armor from the guard in front of him then spin kicks the other off the ledge. Picking up the shield now with a weapon and defense steps forward to the two awaiting guards behind the shield.

“R5, next shield.”

Slamming the shield against one guard against their blaster fire, jamming the electric baton into the knee of one guard brings him down shielding himself. Attacking his chest as the guard grunts hitting the ground and Din stabs the baton in his helmet electrocuting the guard to death. Grabbing the blaster firing at the guard and getting to his feet, the two fire and shield against one another, “R5, next shield,” Din calls out firing but no response comes through, “R5, next shield! R5!” Din yells into his comm blocking another blow as the smoke from the blasters fills the area.

“R5, next shield.” The last barrier opens and slides through the smoke tripping one of the guards grabbing the blaster. Spinning around to stand firing at the guard that fires but it hits Din’s beskar armor. Killing the guard before moving towards the unarmed one trying to rise up but he quickly pulls the trigger. The air is fresh with gun residue the adrenaline in the bounty hunter’s blood fading with the trail of bodies. Grogu peeks around the corner seeing the aftermath and Din motions him to come over. “R5, good job, buddy.” Din compliments the droid as he hears beeps coming from the droid.

Opening the door reveals a long hallway covered in tanks that line the walls. Din and Grogu slowly creep through the halls before Din holds his hand out stopping the child, “Wait here.” He moves to a control table trying to figure out the information. He hears a whimper from the child as he looks frightened by the clones, “That's not Gideon. Those are his clones.” The small child looks at the tank holding a sleeping clone of his former captor. Its eyes snap open producing a cry as Grogu stumbles back while handling the droid. Din presses certain buttons tampering with the controls as the console begins beeping and powering down,

“Let's go.” The two rush escaping the room as an alarm goes off the tanks exploding water spilling out as the doors close behind them. Din turns away from the doors and Grogu and the air leaves Din’s body as his legs become stone. The room lay bare no Gideon in sight but a chair and a familiar figure hunched over blood surrounding the person. His body rushes forward whipping around the chair and his heart drops but also rage fills his body as he stares at the young girl. You were covered in blood, your injuries he couldn’t tell where they started or where they ended. One of your arms hung limply at your side still restrained but he saw the odd angle and cringed. His hands shake slightly as he cups your face and you seem to react to the touch as you murmur your eyes blinking up trying to see, one of your eyes was quickly turning black and blue.

“Kaz…” Your voice is hoarse and weak and his chest burns at the thought in your state of pain and exhaustion you thought he was someone who was long gone.

“Kid…it’s me,” He tries to keep his voice calm pushing back the blood-soaked hair away from you, “I’m gonna get you out of here.” A sudden blaster fire barely misses you both and Din is forced to pull away both him and Grogu hide behind some walls. The mechanical footsteps clank against the ground as Din holds the blaster between his hands.

“My clones were finally going to be perfect,” Gideon’s rage-filled voice surrounds the room, “The best parts of me but improved by adding the one thing I never had. The Force. I was isolating the potential to wield the Force, and incorporating it into an unstoppable army. And you smothered them before they could draw their first breath” He hisses and Din could feel the fury coming from him. A hitch of breath as a mechanical whirring fills the air and a choked gasp fills the air.

“So I’ll take the breath from who you care for,” Gideon growls tightening his strong grip around your throat. Din whips around firing at Gideon but the blaster bolts bounce off his beskar armor does make Gideon release you your head dropping as Gideon fires a missile at Din. Dodging the attack he charges at him with his jetpack the two being pushed into the hangar entering combat. Gideon hurls Din aside as he collides with a large crate quickly receiving beskar-fueled punches in the gut and the face rattling the bounty hunter. Grabbing the Mandalorian by the chestplate hurling off to the floor before launching another attack on him. Din rolls out of the way right as Gideon slams a fist into the ground denting the metal floors.

The sounds of battle from the hangar rage on and in the air as Mandalorians fight against the imperials for their homeworld. Everything was painful just breathing hurt, you wanted it to all fade away praying it would all just stop. A metal hand gently pulls up your face and you felt a cooling sensation across your face as you slowly force your eyes to open seeing the arm of a droid and the small green child. Grogu coos as the healing medicine sprays across your face and he pulls away and you wince feeling something jab into your leg a small burning sensation.

“Grogu…” You whisper and you hear the ‘yes’ come from the child as it moves away from you and you hear the whirring sound and sparks coming off you. Whatever healing spray had made your face grow numb but whatever was put into your leg, you felt your heart rate beating faster and the surge of energy in your limbs. You hear a crack of metal and something falling off as you slump forward falling off the chair unable to hold or catch yourself. You hit the ground with a groan and you hear the loud cry from Din as you see through blurry vision him on the ground the same red armorer guards around him. You hear footsteps pass by you as your heartbeat becomes the only thing you can hear as you force yourself onto your back.

Din groans in pain as the blade is brought deeper into his armor when a voice comes through, “No, no, no.” Din sees Grogu’s angry expression as he slams his fist on the voice button. The three Praetorian Guards pull away now a new target as they force the child back into the command center.

“No!” Din cries out the fear of seeing another one of his children hurt as he scrambles to his feet. A missile hits him directly at his back sending him to the ground but he back on his feet with the urgency to save them when a fibercord whip wraps around his neck dragging him right back to Gideon as the doors close putting the Imperial Guards with both his defenseless children.

You hear the fighting that had entered the room and the cries coming from Grogu as you see flashes of fighting but too weak to stand up. Get up. They are going to kill him if you don’t fight. He’s going to die because of you. You roll over to your side a loud groan coming from you drawing the attention of one of the guards as they come over to you. Your limbs shake with pain as you push yourself with one arm up to be on your hands and knees. A sharp kick to your ribs knocks you back down with a cry as you gasp for air. Don’t stop…stand up. Pushing yourself a strained grunt comes as you return to your knees another kick knocks you back down landing on your back as you try to get air. You can’t do it…you’re too weak.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper tears falling into your hair as the guard stands above you the spear in his grasp.

“Get up…” A voice calls out a whisper the feeling of home flooding your veins, “Come on mesh’la you have to fight.” His voice is like a medicine that heals all wounds. You feel the gentle touch on your skin a caress down your face as he leans down a kiss placed on your forehead. You see the guard raise up his spear to deliver the killing blow it all happening in slow motion.

“Get up.”

The weapon swings down stopping just before your chest a mere hair away when a force stops him. The guard tries pushing down more but is unable to move his body frozen in place. A choking fills the air as he grabs his neck releasing the staff before a large crack fills the air. Din enters the command center having left Bo-Katan to fight against Gideon to see one of the guards collapse to the ground and you laying on the ground beside the body. The others are about to attack Grogu with Din fires his blaster at one of them. The two quickly dispose of the guards together with Din’s combat and Grogu’s force abilities. Din checks over the child when he hears a groan coming from the other side of the room. His head snaps over seeing you on your feet though shakily and Din rushes over his arm wrapping around your waist and holding you up.

“Kid! I’m sorry…maker this is all my fault..” He whispers as you barely register his words looking towards the hangar and seeing Bo-Katan and Gideon fighting. “You stay here. I’ll be back.” You groan in protest before he forces you back to the ground against a wall to sit.

“Gideon…he has to-” “I know…I know you can’t be moving alright.” He says before your left in that room once again but the second he’s gone your hand is clawing at the wall to bring yourself to your feet. This was your fight just as much as theirs and you were going to make sure Gideon was dead.

Bo-Katan spins the Darksaber disarming the electrostaff from Gideon’s grasp but he sends a mighty punch sending her sliding across the ground. Bo-Katan pushes herself to her feet as Gideon pulls off a weapon from his belt and a howl fills the air as a brilliant orange glow reflects on the black beskar. “Hand over the Darksaber and I will give you a warrior's death.” The warlord demands. Rushing towards him with a yell sabers crash against one another as Bo-Katan launches a renewed attack striking him in spots but it has no effect on the beskar armor. However, Gideon is an indomitable force grabbing Bo-Katan’s hand midswing the two holding the Darksaber. With a crush from his gauntlet, he destroys the ancient weapon bringing the female to her knees. The broken hilt lies on the ground as he rips her helmet off kicking Bo-Katan to the ground as she slides toward the edge.

“The Darksaber is gone. You've lost everything,” Stalking towards her taunting the failed Mandalorian, “Mandalorians are weak once they lose their trinkets.”

Bo-Katan rises to her knees a smirk on her face, “Mandalorians are stronger together.” A sudden blaster bolt strikes Gideon from behind and he quickly turns seeing the Mandalorian firing at him. Exchanging fire as Gideon is drawn towards the edge blocking the attacks with the saber. Firing from his wrist Gideon strikes down Din multiple times though shielded by the beskar still stuns him. Bo-Katan slides protecting him using her shield. The hangar shakes sparks flying in the air as the hurtling imperial cruiser descends on the base. Bo-Katan rushes forward with a warrior cry as Gideon raises the saber when he’s thrown back and smacks into the ground. The deactivated saber is released from his hand and Gideon tries to grab it when it’s pulled past him into a person’s grasp. Gideon looks towards where the weapon went the true fear that runs through him. Blood soaks her dirty clothes the broken arm limp at her side, how she was standing after the beating she received he wouldn’t know, in her working hand, the deadly weapon ignites producing a brilliant orange glow.

Gideon raises his blaster firing it at you but with quick reflexes, they deflect hitting him back as he stumbles back towards the edge. You keep trudging forward blocking his attacks as he grows closer and closer to the ledge. He rushes forward to attack you when a blade goes straight through the gap in his chest plate and stomach. A hitch in his breath as the blade digs deep staring into your gaze the haunting look in your eyes.

“This is the non-diplomatic option.” You grunt ripping the saber out as debris rains down the ship crashing into the hangar. Arms wrap around you pulling you to the ground as you are shielded from the inferno hearing Gideon’s screams. You expected the heat from the flames to incinerate you opening your eyes and seeing the barrier all around you the flames and destruction not touching you. Din and Bo-Katan lower their arms from shielding themselves as the three of you look at the small child before you protecting you all. Lowering the Force bubble the flames go from around you as Grogu plops down exhausted from the use as the three of you stand up viewing the destruction. The base is in shambles the flames and smoke from the attack, your gaze moves to where Gideon stands nothing there burnt to ashes. It was a lightweight feeling knowing he was truly dead the battle finally over. With so many lost and many that never saw the end of the journey there were necessary but heartbreaking so you could win.

A cave once left abandoned the light from natural fluorescents the torches empty now lit. The banging of drums fills the tunnels only growing louder reaching the mouth of the cave. Banners of clan signets as clan heads line the path a pathway of torches leading to the steps of water. “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors..” The Armorer speaks to the small boy a shallow bowl in her grasp, “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors..”

“That I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor…” "That I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor…”

“And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.” The crowd watches as the boy recites the creed. It had been months since his first try at joining the Creed and now he stands in the water speaking those words heavy in his heart with the loss of his father, “And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

The Armorer kneels down scooping up some of the living waters pouring on the beskar helmet as he rises to stand, “This is the Way.”

Ragnar nods repeating the words, “This is the Way.” The crowd of Mandalorians from the Children of the Watch repeat the words. Ragnar steps away rejoining his clan as a Mandalorian in silver beskar armor holding a small infant reaches the steps. Placing the child on the step before the water and the man entering the water slightly.

“Grogu is my apprentice.” The once-bounty hunter gestures to the small child, “He is no longer a foundling. Add him to the Song.”

“He is too young to speak so he is too young to take the Creed.” The Armorer shakes her head as the child babbles proving her point, “He must remain a foundling.”

Din is silent looking at the child that looks sad at the news, “If his parent gave permission, couldn't he then become a Mandalorian apprentice?” The Armorer is silent before nodding, “Yes, but his parents are far from here…if they are even alive.” Her words hinted at some underlying solution. The man looks at the child before speaking,

“Then I will adopt him as my own.” The small child looks up in surprise at the news and the Armorer accepts this decision, “This is the Way.” She says and the man repeats the words.

The female Mandalorian turns to face the crowd of Mandalorians, “Let it be written in Song that Din Djarin is accepting this foundling as his son,” She turns looking at the child now adopted by the man, “You are now Din Grogu, Mandalorian apprentice.”

“This is the Way.” The Mandalorians chant and she holds her hand up silencing them, “You must leave Mandalore and take your apprentice on his journeys, just as your teacher did for you.” The Armorer explains and Din nods, “This is the Way.”

The child now legally under the watch of Din babbles cheerfully and in the depths of the waters before them, a creature stirs almost sensing the change. Din grabs Grogu bidding farewell to the Armorer and other members of the tribe. From the corner of his eye, Din sees the flutter of a cloak as they disappear from the living waters. A lone girl viewing the spectacle many troubling thoughts running through her.

Hidden in the shadows watching as the Armorer and Bo-Katan stand before the Great Forge with the Mandalorians from both fractions watching their leader. The Armorer produces a torch passing it to the woman who moves holding it over the forge. The flame ignites the gas the Forge of their people relit after years of remaining dormant. The clanking of the vambraces creates a synchronized rhythm as Woves starts a chant, “For Mandalore!” “For Mandalore!” “For Mandalore!” The fractions brought together their planet back with the rightful owners as they chanted for their victory but also for those they had lost and their sacrifice would not be in vain. Bo-Katan looks over the crowd a wide smile on her face seeing her people together once again but she catches the gaze of a lone figure not in Mandalorian armor. The cloak and mask hid the still healing injuries but she could see the tired eyes that watch the excitement of the people around her but she lacks any. Bo-Katan could see the defeat in them none of this was a victory in their eyes too much loss and the pain was too great to think of the positive. Their eyes meet and she could tell the look in their eyes and what it meant. No words needed to be spoken as the figure disappears in the crowd that she couldn’t keep up. Bo-Katan tries to keep a smile for her people but it cracks just slightly with the information she knew.

Returned to Nevarro where this whole journey began Greef claps his hand on Din's shoulder, “The people of Nevarro appreciate all you've done, Mando.” Pulling a small chip and holding it out for him, “I want to give you this deed to a cabin just outside of town where you can lay low with your new family if you choose so. Between adventures.”

Din accepts this gracious gift nodding in thanks, “Thank you.” Greef chuckles kneeling down to the small child on the steps, “And that goes for you too, Din Grogu.” Greef stands up noticing the third person apart of their group missing, “And where is the other one? I was certain she would stay with you all unless she’s with that Mandalorian of hers. I certainly like him as a partner.”

Din sighs shaking his head, “She’s here just…going through a lot. I’m giving her some space.” Din looks around the city. This was their new home to reside in while Din works as a personal contractor for the New Republic. “The boy…Kaz, he didn’t make it.”

Greef’s expression drops, “My condolences…well be sure to send her my apologizes for her loss.” The air was tense and it seemed to remain that when they had left Mandalore, even going to the Adelphi base, to even here. He was giving you the time you needed, you were still healing from your injuries refusing any medicine that would require you to be unconscious. With no choice but to respect your decision giving you the best he could get but just time would heal all wounds. While the physical wounds may leave scars that would soon fade the ones on your mind and heart would never.

“And I have a gift for you as well.” Din breaks the tension and appears from the crowd the newly reconstructed IG-11, “Greetings, citizens. I am IG-11, your new Marshal. Your new Marshal of Nevarro.” The crowd cheers as their new Marshal greets them all.

“I am here to serve and protect the citizenry. I am at your disposal and serve at your pleasure.” Greef laughs seeing the familiar droid, “There we go.”

Days on Nevarro settled into your new home a place for Din to relax for now before the New Republic called for him. During these times spent making the cabin home, Grogu enters school and gets to grow up. It all seemed well in this home the other missing piece was yourself. Din felt like you were a ghost, your injuries had healed up but you were hesitant with this place he had reassured multiple times was yours. A room that was strictly yours, getting you new clothing, having home-cooked meals, and even trying to get you to go out into the city and have fun and be young again. It was the opposite though he felt like he was pulling teeth and you would only do these to soothe his worries but he still saw the hollowness in your expression, the mask you put up, and weak smiles. He saw your body thin from the lack of food, rushing into your room hearing your screams at night from the memories that plagued you, the dark circles under your eyes from forcing yourself to stay awake to avoid being trapped inside your mind. Give her time he kept telling himself but time wasn’t helping and it all seemed to build up until the thinning string finally snapped.

The sun was beginning to set and Grogu was playing with the small ball of his in the living room as Din finished up dinner placing it off to the side to cool off. “Come on kid,” Coming over scooping his son up, “Let’s get your sister.” Grogu babbles still playing with the ball as they move to the front of the house where a small pond lies. Din had set up a small chair beside the door that he normally kicks back and watches Grogu play. By the pond resting against a tree right by the water there you sit knees tucked under your chin, your focus on the rippling water as frogs and small fishes swim around.

“Kid!” He calls out and you slowly look away meeting his gaze as he stands by the threshold of the house, “Dinner come.” He says and he sees the hesitation on your face as you turn looking back at the water. Din sighs coming towards the tree to get you to come his pace slows to a stop when he notices a bag beside you that looks fully packed.

“Kid…” He calls out hesitant about where this conversation could possibly be going. You were dressed in the clothes that you hadn’t worn since the battle on Mandalore, the cloak wraps around you as you continue staring at the waters. Din waits for the words he fears seeing the expression on your face the pieces coming together.

“I can’t stay here.”

And the air goes thin as his fear becomes a reality. His grip tightens on Grogu slightly as he looks down on you as you start up again, “I can’t just live here happy while he is seen as nothing but a sacrifice for that planet.” Din knew who you were talking about as your voice tighten up and you look up blinking away those tears.

“I know you’re hurting you just need time…I know it hurts now-” Din tries reassuring you but when you looked at him he felt his chest twist as he stops speaking. You had already made your decision and it was just more painful than you saying the words.

“I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. I’m…I’m not like you or the kid…I don’t know what to do anymore…I tried and I tried so damn hard. But I can’t close my eyes without seeing him…” You hold back a cry as you swipe at your sniffling nose, “I’m not telling you to give up this place you deserve a home to settle and be happy but I…I have lost everything all my life…everyone I have loved has either died or left me. Everyone except for you…” You say looking at Din and you feel the anguish coming from him and the glassy look in Gorgu’s eyes.

“I’m so scared of being alone and I don’t want to lose you but sitting here I’m reminded about how I’ve failed all of them.” You say with a shaky breath before looking away from him whispering your fear. “How I might fail you.” It’s a painful silence that is filled with distress and sorrow as Din is told the troubles you’ve been dealing with all this time, even before Mandalore, since your childhood.

“Please don’t try to stop me.” You beg him and it’s so quiet you thought he left but when you look up at him he’s still there. This would have to be the hardest thing to go through and experience. You were so used to people leaving you or the small chance at happiness…love being ripped away from you. It was worst being the one to leave when you knew how much they cared for you…loved you.

“Can…” His voice cracks slightly, “Can you at least stay for dinner?” He speaks in a mere whisper and you hear the sadness in his voice. If he wasn’t wearing that helmet you would see the tears streaming down his face. The tears you tried keeping in start sliding down your face as you hold a fist to your mouth holding back choked sobs. Taking a shaky inhale as your throat is thick with tears,

“If I stay I’ll never leave…” This breaks both of you as you swipe at your tears standing up, “i’m sorry..” Grabbing the pack and slinging it over your shoulder not before grabbing an item from it and holding it out to him in his freehand that isn’t holding Grogu grabs the small object seeing the cloaked binary beacon.

“If you ever need me…no matter where in the galaxy,” You clear your throat pulling up your sleeve and showing the matching one of your wrist, “I’ll find you.” It’s a promise that while you may be lightyears and planets apart you would always find your way home. Back to him… Din curls his hand around the object as he looks at you...his daughter. It’s silent as you step forward rubbing your fingers between Grogu’s ear as he gives a coo and you lean forward pressing a kiss on his forehead. Looking up at the beskar helmet that does nothing to hide his emotion and he raises a hand swiping away the stray tears before pulling you into his chest. You feel the shake of his chest as he cries and you bit your lip to stop yourself from breaking. Held in his arms until you had no choice but to pull away for your sake if not you would never leave.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…ad” (I love you…daughter)

He memorizes everything about you, from your hair to your nose, your mouth, the crease between your eyebrows, the weariness in your tear-filled eyes, every detail. For a moment he was back on Arvala-7 looking down at the bright-eyed girl as she held his knife demanding answers. How times had changed? You weren’t a quarry or some cargo, you were his daughter from the beginning even if he didn’t realize it. Though blood is not shared you were his daughter and he was your father and nothing would change it.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…buir” (I love you…dad)

The words repeated back before you turn away and walk towards the ship. Tears flow like rivers down your face as you grow further and further from Din and Grogu. You hear the small cry from Grogu that makes you bite your lip to hold back your sobs as you reach your X-Wing. You throw the bag into the cargo compartment as R4 beeps sadly from his droid port. Pulling yourself onto the wing entering the cockpit as the canopy closes and you start up the ship. Your eyes betray you glancing at Din who still stands by the pond holding his son as he watches you. Your gaze holds for a second before you are the one that breaks contact as the ship powers up and dust kicks up as the ship begins to take off. 

Din stands there watching the ship depart staring until you are a dot in the sky and even after you’re long gone probably in hyperspace he stands there. It wasn’t until Grogu made a noise of sadness but also needed to be fed that he looks away. His limbs are shaky but filled with carbonite as he forces himself to enter the home not before looking at the beacon in his hand that beeps showing the connection between the two were still active. Din turns back looking up at the sky and the large galaxy that lies before himself. He wasn’t sure how long it would be until he sees you again but you three would be reunited again.

As a Clan of Three.

A/N: It's over. OH MY GOD! I started writing this series in January of 2021 and it is now August of 2023. I'm extremely grateful to everyone who has read this series and enjoyed it. I'm so proud of all the time and work put into it and the plenty of tears shed writing this. Literally, this series wouldn't exist without the support of you guys and the amazing story that is The Mandalorian. You all are incredible and thank you so much for reading and sticking for the ride.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din and Ann start to feel comfortable around each other

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I hope everyone is having a marvellous weekend.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Awkward conversations and question, banter, discussions of dogs and kids having a second sense. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,180 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I looked at Din, he hadn’t said anything for a beat, I smirked as his face slowly morphed into utter disbelief. 

“Dead people? Are you crazy?”

“Hey you said he inherited his mom’s ability to see people; how am I supposed to know what that means?”

Din rubbed his eyes for a second, pushing away the irritation that somehow made him want to laugh and at the same time take you to a doctor to make sure you were okay. “Okay. Sure, I can somewhat see you not understanding what I was trying to say, but … dead people? Really?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too offensive to the otherwise living?” I laughed knowing I was irritating him more.

Din shook his head as he stifled a laugh, “God, you are a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah. But a pain in your ass that you thought did a good job today” I beamed as I looked at him. 

He let out a full belly laugh, it had been a long time since he laughed this hard, not because of someone being an idiot, or because of something Grogu did, but simply because the person he was with made him feel comfortable enough to open up. “Okay, that’s it, you’re no longer allowed to say you did a good job today, and I’m never telling you ‘you did a good job’ ever again. Even if you were to save the Ranch from burning down.” He chuckled, wiping a tear. 

“Right, at least until the next time you think I do a good job,” I winked laughing along with him. 

“Nope, not even then.”

“Mmhmm, I have no doubt you’re going to be eating those words.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Let’s make a bet.”

“Sorry, I don’t make bets when it can be avoided. I don’t like leaving my fate up to chance.

“It’s a friendly bet, no money, nothing uncomfortable. Just if you lose, you grant me one wish, and if I lose, I grant you one wish.”

“A wish? What am I, five?”

“Okay, the fact you’re not wishing anymore is just sad, but fine if not a wish, then we can promise something or grant a request.”

“Fine, I’ll grant a request.”

“Great, now if you end up saying ‘Good job, Ann’ once again, even though you declared you’d never say it again, you grant me a request, and if you don’t I’ll grant you a request.”

“Great, then grant me my request, because I’ve already one, I won’t say that phrase …” he motioned with his finger drawing a line, “ever again.”

“No, no, no. I’m not just going to concede now. Come on.”

“Well you’ll be waiting a long time, so be prepared to have it etched on your tombstone?”

“Oh that I did a good job?” I smirked, loving how easy it was to sometimes rile him up. Din simply shook his head, fighting back the laugh, “Anyway … you were saying, before we got side tracked, Grogu inherited his ability to see people from his mom.”

“Yes, the living. The living people. I feel I should emphasize this. Not dead. Living, breathing people.”

I shook my head as I looked out the window, “Okay. I get it. Living people. He can see people … wait does that mean you’re blind?” 

Din glanced over to her, was she for real, or was she doing this to purposefully irritate him, “What the f… Are you for real right now? If I was blind, should I be driving the truck right now?”

“Well, I don’t know. Forgive me for trying to understand you’re cryptic, wrapped in an enigma type conversation. I’m just trying to understand what you’re talking about.” I ran my hand over my face trying not to pull out my hair, “Okay, Din, can you please just explain what you mean?”

Din shook his head, as he swallowed the laugh that was pressing against his cheeks, he cleared his throat, he hated the fact that she kept throwing these ridiculous notions out there and it was loving every minute of it, “Grogu has an ability to sense who’s a good person and who’s not. For example,” Din motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, directing her to look back, “at the diner, I mentioned I had a bad feeling about Toro.”

“Toro?”

“Calican, the young man who asked for your number.”

“Oh, right.”

“When Grogu met him, he refused to come out of the bathroom, locked himself in there till Calican left. He didn’t last an hour before I was asking me to tell him to leave my property. There’s something not right about that guy, so fair warning, be careful around him.”

I smirked wondering what kind of crazy intuition his wife had, “Kids and dogs.”

“Huh?”

I stretched my arms and legs, “Kids and dogs are known to have a sixth sense about people. There was a study done on dogs, and it showed they have a keen sense of who to trust and who not to trust. Kids too. They usually can tell when someone’s a good person or not, the fact Grogu locked himself in the bathroom, speaks volumes.” I looked out the window, when I realized we were passing the ranch, “Where we heading?”

“Gotta pick something up from Boba, he’s my neighbour, the next closest rancher around. After him is Camilla’s aunt, Peli, she lives about an hour and a half from my place.”

“That’s the Boba Fett you were helping with his lost sheep?”

“Yeah”

Silence filled the truck as we drove on, there was one question, no matter how much I wanted to push away kept forcing itself to the front of my mind, “Din, if you don’t mind me asking, what was Camilla like?” I glanced over to him to see his jaw clench, as his fingers gripped the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. 

Din looked over to Ann, he wanted to tell her she had no right to know anything about Camilla, how could she even dare to ask such a question. However, he was just talking about how Grogu was so much like her. Truthfully, he never really talked about her with anyone, well except for Grogu and Peli, on occasion, it sort of became an unspoken rule. 

On occasion, Omera was willing to listen but she didn’t make it a habit. He missed talking about her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad letting Ann know. 

He took in a shuddering breath, “She could make any dark day better. She had this ability to always find the bright spot, it didn’t matter how bad the situation was, how difficult it could be. She knew what to say to make it a little better. She was the only one who knew just what to say or not to say to calm me down when I was being a stubborn jackass.” A small smile started to form on his lips, “She was kind. Warm, and had the best smile and laugh I ever heard or saw.”

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,180 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal @sprout-fics @liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

[qveerthe0ry]

Hi there!

Joel brought you into the fandom, but is he still your favorite? Have any other characters stolen your heart?

Ahhhh omg I love this question!!

It’s so hard to choose a favorite… They’re all so different and lovely in their own unique way… so I will say that it’s a three-way tie and give in-depth answers as to why 😂

Joel is definitely still a favorite. I am madly in love with the way he becomes so vulnerable, something he clearly promised himself he’d never be again. It’s so endearing and also heartbreaking, the way he tries so hard not to love Ellie because of the hurt that was caused by loving his own daughter, only to end up mass-murdering for her and comparing Ellie to Sarah at the end of the season. It’s so easy to fall in love with him, little by little, as you watch him open up in increments. From the reluctant worry over Ellie, to the way he stays up all night guarding her sleeping bag because she’s scared, to the FINALLY laughing at her jokes, to the ‘do you trust me?,’ the stables scene and ‘you deserve a choice,’ the way he tells her to leave him for dead, the babygirl scene that directly mirrors Sarah’s death scene, all the way to trying to cheer her up with Chef-Boyardee and Boggle and promises of guitar lessons and ‘it wasn’t time that did it.’ All of these little moments just made my heart grow so so big for this character. There is also something so sexy about a guy who is a tough nut to crack, only to find that his center is sweet and gooey and decadent. And then he’s also such a dilf and the GRAYS are just 😍

Second, and this one surprises me, is Frankie Morales. I will preface this by saying I am way more enamored by fanfic Frankie than the actual movie character. TF isn’t my favorite type of movie, and we get so little of Frankie in it, so I’m very self-aware of the fact that fics and fandom head-canons have overtaken my judgement. BUT. Because we get so little of him, it’s very easy to mold him into what we want, which is so fun when it comes to writing. We know canon Frankie is the most reserved of the bunch, and that he is a family man, and he’s very level-headed. But what flavor of reserved is he? Aloof, brooding, and dark? Love it. Shy, hesitant, and sad? Also love it. I love that the fandom has all agreed that he is the pussy eating king, a golden retriever boyfriend, and also fairly commonly bisexual/pansexual. Also, he is so CUTE. His little curls under his little hat, and his tiny little butt, and his patchy beard, and his puppy dog eyes. Textbook definition of boyishly handsome, which is so different from most Pedro characters’ looks.

Third is the disaster bisexual himself, Dieter Bravo. Listen. It took me like four times to finally watch The Bubble all the way through. What a nightmare. But I really do think Dieter is the shining star of that movie. He has a little bit of those Joel vibes. At the beginning he’s this cocky, Tony Stark-esque character, mysterious and full of himself. But he very quickly dissolved into this sad little guy on drugs, which is just a great brand honestly. I do have the same fanfic-tinted lenses for him as Frankie, but honestly this man is so unhinged that I’m pretty sure every Dieter fic I’ve ever read is in-character and could totally be canon. I love that he is so reckless but also such a sweetheart at the core, ie: crying over a baby goat and falling in love with a receptionists because she’s like the first person to actually treat him with kindness. Also as someone who’s non-binary/gender-fluid, I really dig the ‘I’ll sleep with anyone’ vibes. He seems like the most attainable Pedro character in that regard 😂

Honorable mentions because I’m insufferable: Din Djarin for kind of the same reason as Joel, but also being so fucking funny without even trying just because of The Way That He Is

and

Marcus Pike because I just love a good sweet angel boyfriend 😌

Thank you thank you thank you for this ask 🫶🏻💕💖🥰 I had fun coming up with my extremely convoluted answer lol

[all-the-things-2020]

Further Along the Way - Chapter Eleven

Summary: Din gets some very bad news.

Chapter Warning: ⚠️ This chapter is rather dark and refers to the deaths of some characters we’ve already met. ⚠️

Rating: PG

Valinda Knorros was in her late forties, short and slightly plump, her long brown hair shot through with a few strands of gray and pulled back in a neat braid. Mariana liked her immediately. Unlike the doctor at the local health clinic, the midwife explained everything before she did it and made sure Mariana didn’t have any questions before she moved on.

“Well, I think that’s all for now,” Valinda said finally, putting her data pad and scanner away. “Everything looks fine. I’d say you’re right on track for a healthy baby and a normal delivery.” She smiled. “Next time we’ll start going over the birthing process so you’ll know what to expect. Have you talked to your husband about whether he wants to be present during the birth?”

“Not really,” Mariana admitted. She was fairly certain he would want to be there, given how protective he was, but she hadn’t thought to ask him.

“Discuss it and let me know next week,” Valinda said. “If he’s going to be there, he’ll have to come to at least some of the appointments so we can go over his role as birthing coach.”

Mariana suppressed a smile at the sudden image of Din in his full Mandalorian armor holding her hand and telling her when to breathe and when to push, like a scene from a cheesy holovid.

“I will,” she said. “See you next week.”

Valinda walked her to the door and Mariana stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. It was a beautiful day and she thought briefly of walking home, but it was at least six blocks to Tress’ place to pick up Ad’ika and then another three to get home, and she wasn’t sure her feet were up for it. Instead, she hailed a speeder cab and gave the driver the Mondella’s address.

Lina answered the door when Mariana knocked, her face sober. “Hi, Dika’s mom,” the girl said. “Momma’s sad.”

Mariana’s heart sank and she pushed her way past the girl. “Tress?,” she called out. “Are you okay?” Oh, please, please, don’t let anything have happened to Garrick!

Tress stepped out of the kitchen, her eyes red and tear streaks running down her face. “Oh, Mariana,” she gasped, reaching out to wrap her arms around her. “It’s horrible.”

“What? What? Is it Garrick?”

“No, no,” Tress said. “It’s … it’s the cadets. Din’s cadets.”

Mariana’s knees gave out and Tress had to help her onto the couch. “Oh, stars, what happened?,” she managed to say once she could breathe again.

“Garrick … he still gets all the comms pertaining to the Academy and he forwarded it to me,” Tress said between sobs. “They were guarding the embassy on Vrentos, routine stuff, but terrorists bombed the site.” She hiccuped. “They haven’t released any names yet but five of them died, more were injured. Fennic — he didn’t make it, Mari, he’s dead.”

Mariana’s blood ran cold. Corporal Fennic had taken Din’s place. “I’ve got to get home,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I need to be there when Din gets home. He’ll be devastated.”

Tress nodded. “Leave Ad’ika here,” she said. “He can stay overnight. The girls will love it and that way you can concentrate on Din. Oh, sweet gods, I can’t even imagine what he’s going through …” She dissolved into tears again.

Mariana sat back down and hugged her friend tightly. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about us, just take care of yourself and the girls. We’ll be okay.”

Tress wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just … I‘ve been so on edge since Garrick left, and those kids … they were supposed to be safe.” She shook her head. “Don’t mind me. Go on, go home, take care of your husband.”

Mariana took a moment to say goodbye to Ad’ika. “You’re going to stay here tonight, ad,” she told him. “I’ll be back to get you in the morning. Be good and listen to Tress, okay?”

He nodded, his ears drooping. “Trikar'la,” he said.

“Yes, sad, Ad’ika,” Mariana said. “We’re all very sad right now. But it’ll be okay. I’ll get you tomorrow. Be good.”

“Da?” He looked so forlorn that Mariana had to take a moment before she replied so that she wouldn’t start sobbing.

“Daddy will be okay,” she said finally. “I’m going to make sure of that. We’ll see you in the morning.”

She left the Mondella’s house and walked as quickly as she could back to the apartment building. If Garrick had already forwarded his comm to Tress, then the Colonel had known for some time, and with no final class to teach, Din’s days were over earlier than usual. He could be home at any time, if he wasn’t already there.

She had a stitch in her side by the time she got to her street, but she refused to slow down. She was huffing and puffing as she unlocked the door to find Din slumped on the couch. He looked up at her, his eyes bleak.

“Tress told me,” she said, shutting the door behind her and hurrying to his side. “Garrick commed her. Oh, Din, I’m so, so sorry!” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down onto her shoulder. He was very still for a long moment, and then she felt him begin to sob. She rubbed his back with one hand and ran her fingers through his hair with the other, two things that always soothed him. “It’s okay,” she crooned. “It’s okay, cyar’ika. I’m here. I’m here.”

Eventually he stopped crying and pulled back enough to look at her. “It’s not okay, Mar’ika,” he croaked, his voice raspy with tears. “I should have been there. You were right. I had a duty to them. I failed them.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” she said.

“I did,” he insisted. “They’re my students, not Fennic’s. He shouldn’t have had to go. He shouldn’t have had to die.”

Mariana wiped the tears from his cheeks and held his face steady. “He wanted to go,” she said. “He sent me a message right before they left. He said that even if you’d agreed to go, he was going to offer to take your place.” Din shook his head, but she held him firmly. “He said you didn’t need to risk your life.”

“Even so,” Din said wearily. “The kids … Mar’ika, five of my kids ….” He couldn’t go on and it broke her heart to see him so devastated. “Maybe I could have saved them,” he whispered.

“And maybe you couldn’t,” she replied. “Maybe more would have died, or maybe you would have died.”

He sighed, his head dropping back onto her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, hanging on like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. “I don’t even know who … who it is,” he said. “The Colonel couldn’t release any names until they’ve finished contacting all the next of kin. Fifty kids, cyar’ika, five dead, who knows how many more wounded … that’s a ten percent loss. And this was supposed to be a nice, easy assignment. Perfectly safe.” He shook his head and she couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just kept rubbing his back, occasionally pressing a kiss against his neck or ear.

They sat like that for a long time, until her leg started to go numb from the pressure of sitting in the same position for so long, but she didn’t want to disturb him, so she endured until he finally sat back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “You have every reason to be upset, my love.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. “I know, but still …” His data pad, abandoned on the side table, pinged. They looked at each other, knowing what the message probably was.

“I’ll get it,” Mariana said, picking up the pad and pressing the button to wake up the screen. At the top was a message from the Colonel, blinking bright green to indicate urgency. She took a deep breath and tapped on the message to open it.

“It’s the casualty list,” she said.

Din closed his eyes and nodded. “Read it to me,” he said, his voice strained.

“Lormand Anzitor — DECEASED, Nandoo Bendar — DECEASED, Fangor Donden — INJURED, Pando Florenz — INJURED, Hoven Limante — DECEASED, Brix Lovari — INJURED, Vintex Marddanda — INJURED, Prig Pexar— INJURED, Kalen Robbins — DECEASED, Helix Shandilon — DECEASED, Corton Trimble — INJURED, Klaarmat X’intari — INJURED,” she read. With each name, Din’s head drooped further and further toward his chest until by the time she reached the end, he was doubled over completely.

“Bendar,” he sobbed. “She … she was doing so well. And Robbins … he was top of his class. Limante, Anzitor … Shandilon. Kriff, I was so happy I wasn’t going to have to deal with him for a while, and now he’s dead.”

Mariana dropped the data pad and pulled Din’s head into her lap. She was crying herself, now, the tears flowing freely down her face. She hadn’t met most of the students, but she knew Bendar, Florenz, and X’intari from the after school class. Now shy Nandoo was dead, and Pando and Klaarmat were injured. Of the four, only Glenna Laren had escaped unscathed.

She let Din cry himself out, then helped him into the ‘fresher, where she made him take a shower and change into pajamas. He was quiet as she led him into the bedroom and tucked him into bed. “Try to sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

She took a quick shower herself, letting the water wash the tears from her face. Slipping into her nightgown, she crawled into bed next to Din and snuggled up against him, her back pressed against his chest. After a moment, his arms wrapped around her and she felt his face burrow into the back of her neck. “Thank you, cyar’ika,” he mumbled. “For understanding.”

She took one of his hands in her own, pressing it against her chest, right over her heart. His other hand slid down to her belly. The baby was quiet, for a change, seemingly subdued by her mood.

“Just sleep, Din,” she whispered. “Relax. Sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.”

He nodded into her hair, his breathing starting to even out, no longer hitching with sobs. Suddenly, though, he half sat up. “Where’s Ad’ika?,” he cried out.

“He’s with Tress,” she assured him. “She was watching him while I was at the midwife’s and she offered to keep him overnight for us.”

Din sank back onto the mattress, relaxing a bit more. “I forgot,” he said. “How … how did it go?”

“It went very well,” she said. “But I can tell you all about it tomorrow. For now, just get some rest, cyar’ika.”

He sighed deeply and snuggled closer to her. “Okay,” he said wearily. “I’ll try.” She knew from experience how draining a hard cry could be, and she knew he must be exhausted. She gently stroked his hand until she felt him go limp against her, his breathing slow and steady against the back of her neck. As she was about to drift off herself, she felt the baby start to stir. Go to sleep, little one, please, she begged, and after a couple of flips and a feeble kick, the child settled down again. A few minutes later, she was sound asleep, still clutching Din’s hand to her heart.

**************************************

Mando’a words:

trikar’la = sad

[notallthosewho-wanderarelost]

Ahsoka 1x01 1x02 Thoughts/Questions

Spoilers for Ahsoka of course, and spoilers for Star Wars Rebels.

WHAT IS SABINE’S CAT’S NAME???? This is unironically my number one question. What if she named it Ezra.

Where is Jacen? My broccoli boy 💚

Wtf is up with Morgan Elsbeth being a nightsister? She’s very clearly human and not the same species as Talzin, Ventress, and Merrin, etc. Is Dave bringing back the concept of a group of human Nightsisters from the EU? (In which case, I’d like to see Teneniel Djo please.) Morgan says she’s a “descendant of the witches of Dathomir,” does that mean she could be part Nightsister but mostly human? Worth noting she is clearly able to do at least a bit of Nightsister magick in the scene with the map- she summons green smoke while opening it. Why the inconsistency in species? It seems silly to suddenly have a human Nightsister character when it’s needlessly confusing.

Also, the instant she said she was a Nightsister and a survivor I was like “who does she think she is ripping off Merrin like this?!” I will not tolerate this dollar store knockoff wannabe.

Update: checked the wiki and apparently there were a few small human Nightsister clans (the Singing Mountain clan is apparently still canon!), but mostly it was the big Dathomirian Nightsister clan led by Mother Talzin. Morgan could be from one of the smaller human clans. I think she just feels annoying to me because it’s like someone saw how cool Merrin is, thought she’d be a good villain for this, and then took the character concept wholesale for a piece of Star Wars media that’s more mainstream, but didn’t put in the work so it falls flat. And then her being human just makes it weirder. I wonder who made the decision to use the Nightsisters for this storyline, because doesn’t… fit. Even Morgan’s name is odd. Just feels like no effort was put into the character.

How did Ahsoka find Huyang? I’m so curious when and how this happened. I’m really happy to see him in this though, I loved him in Clone Wars.

Ahsoka can do psychometry now! Can we please get some canon Ahsoka and Cal Kestis interactions? Rebellion era would probably be best but I’m not picky. Obviously Cal’s abilities in that area are a lot stronger, but it’s nice he’s not alone and it’d be great to see them interact. They’re almost the same age, but just far enough apart that their experiences since Order 66 have been radically different.

Mando/Din spending seasons raising a Jedi foundling and Ahsoka taking on a non-Force-sensitive Mandalorian as a padawan is so funny to me. The irony of the inverse.

It’s also the perfect continuation of the disaster lineage attitude imo. Obi-Wan “I’ll train the kid you all say is too old to train” Kenobi, then Anakin and Ahsoka’s… you know, Anakin and Ahsoka-ing, and now Ahsoka’s like “I’ll take a regular non-Force-Sensitive person as a padawan.”

Merrin and Sabine would get along, I think.

Sabine being like 30 and still acting exactly like a rebellious teenager feels like a cry for help to me. :( I’m glad Hera seems to have her back, and it’s good that she has a cat, but I’m worried about her. It makes sense, but gosh poor Sabine. I’m sensing depression. She’s had such a tough life and a tough time with the concept of family, it feels like losing Ezra was the last straw for her emotionally.

Actually, where is Sabine’s biological family? Are Ursa, Tristan, and Alrich okay? Or did they not survive the Mandalorian Purge? (God no I WILL cry. Also @ Dave where is Korkie, why is Bo-Katan calling herself the last Kryze.)

So wait, the rest of the crew has spent 15 years thinking Ezra’s dead?? He said to come find him! I always felt like he was pretty clear he wasn’t dying when he pulled his purrgil stunt. Did they all just turn pessimistic and lose hope? That’s so sad.

I actually really love Sabine kind of being the Republic’s version of Thrawn as an expert art analyst. Continues the Sabine/Thrawn contrast Rebels started where Thrawn analyzes art in a more academic fashion and treats the culture it came from as a curiosity- he’s very into cultural appropriation!!- while Sabine makes her own art and is more capable of stepping into other people’s shoes to appreciate their art.

Ahsoka refusing to train Sabine because she’s too busy being sad and lonely, and Sabine refusing to talk to Ahsoka or train (or give speeches) because she’s too busy being sad and lonely. This is so sad and I want to hug them both.

It works because we have a new actress playing Ahsoka, but I’m so curious what this would have been like animated. Ahsoka feels similar enough to herself but very different, because she’s in such a different place emotionally, and I’m curious how this would’ve felt in animation with Ashley doing the voice.

There were a few scenes where I felt like I was watching a live action Rebels episode and it was the best! The entire sequence with Sabine on the hover bike getting away from her own New Republic squad lol, Hera in the Phantom with Chopper chasing after the ship and planting the tracker. Chopper not being able to find the tracker until Hera told him where it was felt SPOT ON.

The T-6 actually looks pretty roomy and comfortable so far. Like, not the best living situation, but it looks way bigger than the Falcon! Heck, it looks bigger than Ezra’s tower that Sabine’s living in.

That said, Ahsoka having not had a real home since leaving the Jedi Temple is killing me. She really has some abandonment/attachment/commitment issues she needs to work on. Extremely understandable issues given what happened, but it’s like after the end of Rebels she just… quit. Maybe finding out Kanan was gone and then coming back to find Ezra gone was the last straw for her.

I also feel like her giving up on Sabine’s training was because of how her own training ended and Anakin’s fall shortly after. She doesn’t feel capable of dealing with the feelings stirred up by having a student. So she just doesn’t.

Sabine’s collecting little brothers. :) Tristan, Ezra, and Jacen.

I yelled at Senator Jai Kell!!! Good for him!!!

Had a watch party with my friends for this and we all screamed the instant Chopper showed up!! And here I was thinking maybe he was off babysitting Jacen.

What in the world is with the map showing another galaxy?? Yuuzhan Vong vibes. (The way they were almost canon because we were supposed to get a Clone Wars episode with them… :’( )

Why DO the Nightsisters have a map to another galaxy? Didn’t they mostly stay on Dathomir? I can buy them having outposts like the ruins where Ahsoka found the map in an era when they left the planet more, but a map to whole other galaxy seems a bit off. Space exploration on that scale doesn’t seem like something they would do. I wonder if maybe the map is a relic from someone else that they picked up. I like the Rakata theory I saw floated by someone. I could see the Nightsisters picking up a Rakatan map. Those guys left random stuff everywhere iirc.

Does the Eye of Sion have anything to do with Darth Sion? (Of KOTOR 2 fame)

WHERE IS MORAI??? This is a really big question for me!!

Also wondering where Ahsoka’s Gandalf the White outfit is? Guessing she won’t get it until the end of the show. She has to go through her journey first. I wonder if the if it’ll mirror the Topps cards Filoni did after Twilight of the Apprentice at all.

It’s really sad to me that this show is coming out during the strike, because I really need Filoni commentary on things. Actor commentary would be great as well. This is ridiculous, the studios need to pay the people who make things a fair wage.

Shoutout to Natasha Liu Bordizzo’s portrayal of Sabine so far. She feels JUST like Sabine and it’s great. We haven’t really seen enough of Hera yet for me to comment on Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s acting. (It was so weird seeing Hera be taller than Ahsoka though lol.) And Sabine had much more of an arc in these two episodes than Ahsoka did so I can’t really comment on Rosario’s Ahsoka either. Will say she’s been excellent so far, especially in her first appearance in the Mandalorian episode. Looking forward to seeing more!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Also, as a second, optional thing for you to answer: Here's a list of six songs; which character do you think that they fit with the most... and why? Blinding Ghosts Light Of Love No Light, No Light Throwing Bricks Various Storms & Saints

OKAY I LOVE THIS QUESTION.

And *technically* I didn’t get any of these songs as requests, so none of them will overlap with any of the drabbles.

Under the cut because this got long.

Blinding: I’d go with Ezra for this one. It’s actually on my playlist for the Oracle series I started and then left sitting to collect dust haven��t worked on in a while. This line, which gets repeated, is what speaks to me most in regards to that AU: No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone I REALLY NEED TO GET BACK TO THAT ONE. THERE'S A HALF-WRITTEN CHAPTER FULL OF FANCY EZRA AND FANCY READER IN A FANCY LOUNGE THAT I NEED TO FINISH.

Ghosts: Okay here’s where the *technically* comes in. Ghosts is the demo version of I’m Not Calling You A Liar, which I did get a request for (for Din) and the lyrics are the same. BUT! The tempo and tone is slightly lighter and more carefree for Ghosts, so I’d set that one in my Long Con AU for Pedro Across the Street. It’s about not being sure that the other person won’t burn you in some way, but that not being enough of a deterrent to stay away. I’m not calling you a thief, just don’t steal from me and When you kiss me I’m happy enough to die. Stick out to me for PaTS. I’m excited to share the one I’m working on for the Din request, though!!

Light of Love: First of all, I love this song a whole lot. Secondly I could go two ways with it. I feel like it works best for Dieter, but I could also make a strong case for Frankie. It touches on drug use/addiction and depression but on coming out of it and realizing that there is light and there are people who care and about fighting even when you want to quit. For Dieter: Flashes appeared in the corners of my eyes, I saw the stars and I didn’t ask why. Heard the voices and caught my breath, so close and yet so far from death - it also came out during the height of pandemic closures and lockdowns, which tracks with the timeline of The Bubble and the theme of isolation. For Frankie: I’ve been up all night, let’s stay awake. Push it further, you know I’ll never break. He says at one point he doesn’t sleep much, and I HC that plays partly into him getting busted for cocaine - he uses it to stay up for work or simply to stay up and not have nightmares. And then the push it further refers to how easily Pope and Tom (and maybe others) talk him into things he probably knows aren’t the best idea but doesn’t trust his own judgement enough to say no.

No Light, No Light: Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. This one is Joel. Forget the mention of blue eyes (Or think of them as blue in sadness not color) There’s a theme of loss/things fading and of jarring violence. These lines specifically point to Joel for me: I never knew daylight could be so violent. A revelation in the light of day. You can't choose what stays and what fades away Along with Would you leave me if I told you what I've done? And would you leave me if I told you what I've become? There's also a line about wanting to make something right but not being ready for that conversation yet, and if that's not Joel & Ellie idk what is.

Throwing Bricks: This is the only one that made me really scratch my head. I like this one a lot, and it always cheers me up when it comes on because it's fun to sing along with. But if I had to match it to a character, I'm not sure who it would be. Maybe Nico? Since it's about building a man and bringing him to life and that man is a whole weird blank slate for writers to play with? (Me writing ACR: I built a man made out of bricks, and lived inside his chest. I beat my head against the wall to make a heart beat in his breast)

Various Storms & Saints: Hi, this one is for Aphelion Oberyn. It's about being caught in something overwhelming and powerful but in an "I chose this on purpose" sort of way, and about trying to keep finding a way forward. Lines that feel the most fitting: And I'm in the throes of it, somewhere in the belly of the beast. But you took your toll on me, so I gave myself over willingly. And also: I know it seems like forever, I know it seems like an age. But one day this will be over, I swear it's not so far away. It's definitely a more melancholy song, so I think it would be relevant to the time in his life between the last person he marked and meeting Reader.

Thank you so much for sending this alternate ask! This was fun to think about, and you chose some really good ones!

[wcmcink]

notes in three parts

notes i took on my phone in 3 parts

1.

& the mountains underneath the cover of a sunset... i'm looking out the window/ like a doorway into a photograph & organizing the pennies on my desk into petrine crosses         & it's hard to tell the nighttime from a close friend it's just an outfit, you can take it off a way of being in the world not so much but when that outfit reflects a way of being in the world/ watch out! i wonder if the same holds true for systems & design... you can take it off it doesn't reflect the soul of the matter everything has a use & a purpose & i sit  just like this to conduct my investigation: i've been going this way & there's nothing i can do but rest easy with the decisions i've made yeah, we'll all be gone before we know it." in the blow up doll world full of blow up things it's good that someone's filling up the silence with pointless conversation all the way down to the slumlords on hoover advertising student housing "you came in at fig," yeah i get it, everything means something there's a bit of a schoolboy confusion over what to say & i wish someone would come by smoking a cigarette & then i could bum one & everything would be alright... get on board with the made up universe dick tracy can have anything he wants you understand? to bad he wants to fight crime in palookaville... i don't know what's happening to me i can't force myself to cry  'cus i'm not sad but it scares me meanwhile i aspire to a challenging definition of spam...          "what is this?" (husband over the shoulder of his wife) "not quite sure, i think i'll throw it away." (using his index finger to follow through) "makes sense, i'm really not quite sure what i'm reading either."  they are rough poems in the outline of your face

2.

all relationships between people are arrangements of some sort this doesn't mean they are void  of genuine emotion in fact, it would be a better arrangement if they had genuine emotion... now to clean it up some impatient for a microwave the malicious intention of stray comments void of emotion while i'm holding your hand she's gonna find a shotgun buried in the cabinet, "well, that's a window into a dark room..." i'm kind of into the fantasy of it all the late nights the neon signs in front of midnight restaurants  a real greasy spoon, a cigarette, & a cup of coffee  the many vagaries of the institution are hard to navigate he's singing, "i was born in a storm..." just like i'm somewhat aware of this not being what you wanted to hear  i'm not really into the big things here although i know it's something to talk about when we are having dinner/ all about this pocket book of loose verses... right now: i'm writing a sentence with my right hand & performing it with my left that scratchy sound & screeching voice "playing that rock & roll music" beneath the letter of the moon

3.

dry cleaning & shopping carts & supermarket parking lots & smile 'cus you don't know what it means... i wake up sing my songs scratch the dirt & resin off my face & write these swollen verses & for some reason that requires an audience... at the corner of good shit & right on there's a decent compromise to be made like a dead skin that fits over a dead animal leaving it with a toothy grin thoughts come in waves, no...dualistic impulses that cut  both ways "sometimes, i feel like smacking your head like a swizzle stick."      it's ten in the morning & already the day is getting away from me little by little comes the fall not in whole but in part given to the vicissitudes of a twisted heart...   morning & its tergiversations  i don't know if that word is really necessary not just because i don't know what it means: "to change ones loyalties, become apostate" or it's difficult to use in a sentence it's just extra, you know tergiversations  perfect for a friday morning noise carries through my hearing aids & the din of a half empty room hits me like a brick i'm sitting in a meeting house: "thinking i understand things well enough to figure them out." that's what the guy says, it's smart, you know, i wonder if he practiced beforehand... this is the philosophy of a fractured state when we're out of clever replies & our little defenses we all feel similar & certain situations strike us the same although the response is different every comment, every gesture has an orientation & point of view & this precludes action of any kind thinking of each thing & what it means & where it's going & what will come of it... "what will you do?" "i dunno, smoke a couple cigarettes, think about the conversation we just had... how we create in the clearing of what we are patently not able to do... leaving gently what is left what we are able to do & who we are" "blood & sand" is a cocktail, "blood & soil" is the nazi era program to return german citizens to farmland... & other things i must remember but i have no time for dewy-eyed maidens in the backroom, "it's always like this, he'll probably write that down to, he has no idea what should remain a thought & what should be put down on paper... holy shit, that's a great poem." still we hold fast to our beliefs even if it means wearing a pirates hat in the middle of los angeles it's satan re-imagined as another life form maybe an uprooted yellow flower in a science fiction movie... bending towards the sun on a rainy day..."i'm so happy when i'm on my own" the flower says, (could it be described as bright, shaking its petals in consternation yearning for the sun?) surely, something i can ask my phone later, like what's "i love you" in french. or did the giants win? or find my italy trip last month & set a meeting for nine... tell him i'm on my way.

[forever-rogue]

Similar to your “who did this to you” but instead, reader is just straight up clumsy. Strapped in a chair full of bubble wrap? Expect a bruise. Fell over a feather? Happened. 2 times. Din got scared the first time. Second time he laughed.

AN | Din and reader in which reader is a total klutz! I relate way too much to reader in this scenario! Enjoy 😀

Warnings | Descriptions of non-graphic injury

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 1.9k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re limping,” you stopped dead in your tracks as his large presence loomed over you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turned on your heel, making sure to put most of your weight onto the ankle that wasn’t currently throbbing in pain. Offering the Mandalorian a tight lipped smile, you made a vague gesture and lightly shook your head.

“No,” you lied, pain coating the singular word as it came out between gritted teeth, “I’m not. You’re seeing things, Mando.”

“Now you’re lying to me?” he tilted his head to the side, silver beskar glinting in the low light of the ship. Huffing you, you brushed him off as you tried to shuffle away, “the only thing I’m seeing is you trying to hobble away without making it look like you’re hurt.”

“Yeah?” you asked, attempting to push past him…but failing desperately and almost collapsing against him as you both sighed. You looked at him, eyes wide with worry as you stared into the black T of his visor, “fine.”

“So you admit you’re hurt?” an arm snaked around your waist protectively as you just huffed at him, “what happened? Why were you trying to hide it?”

“Nothing happened,” you insisted with a deeply etched frown on your features as he helped to right you and keep the weight off of your ankle. You couldn’t see his face but you just imagined he was raising an eyebrow in question. After a few moments you finally gave in and stared at your feet, “I was in town earlier and I might have tripped over my own foot and rolled my ankle.”

The last part of your sentence was said so quickly, coming out in almost one word so that it took him a moment to decipher. Your cheeks warmed up under his watchful gaze before he realized what you said. He made a sound in the back of his throat somewhere between amusement and annoyance as he looked at the swollen joint, “you just…okay. I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”

You shook your head before offering him a meek little smile.

“Why weren’t you going to tell me?” he asked as you shrugged innocently. You knew why; one - he still managed to intimidate you despite having been your employer for several months, and two - you knew he would overreact and didn’t want him to make a big deal of something so minute. It was just a rolled ankle but with him you’d think you’d lost the leg.

“I, ummm….dunno,” avoiding his gaze, you looked away as you tried to slowly make off for the cabinet brimming with medical supplies (bounty hunting was no easy feat after all). The Mandalorian put a gloved finger under your chin as he turned your gaze back to his, “didn’t want you to worry is all.”

“It’s my job to worry - gotta keep my partner safe after all. You’re no good to me - or yourself - injured.”

“I’ll slap some bacta salve on it and it’ll be fine,” you insisted, “if you hadn’t caught me I could be almost done and healed by now and you wouldn’t have noticed!”

“You should always tell me if something happens," he insisted as you dramatically rolled your eyes, "why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because this is what I was trying to avoid," you slowly pulled back from him; an immediate silence had fallen over the two of you. It wasn't that you didn't trust or like him; your relationship - strictly professional of course - was still fairly new and you weren't really trying to push any boundaries, "I-I didn't want you to make a big deal out of it and I also didn't want to worry you."

"I only want to make sure you're okay," was that a hint of...sadness in his voice? You hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, you just wanted to keep things businesslike and for you that meant keeping somewhat of a distance from him.

"I know and I...thank you," you gave him a little half smile, "really. It's nothing to worry about because I happen to be very clumsy and am more or less injury prone. You'll learn that in time, Mando."

"Can it really be that bad?" he asked with an amused lilt to his voice.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"We're not going to tell him a thing about this, okay buddy?" you turned to find Grogu still sitting on the floor next to you. He was busy playing with his metal ball and barely paying any attention to you, "Din has enough to worry about without me making it worse."

Your reflection stared back at you just as normally would, save for the large blossoming blue and purple bruise around your eye and cheek. All you had wanted to do was turn on the tap that seemed to have gotten stuck and then...whack. Your hand had slipped from the handle and smacked you right in the eye. The pain - and bruising - had been immediate. It wasn’t the first time you'd done and probably wouldn't have been the last but this just wasn't it.

"Fantastic," you sighed as you grabbed a tube of concealer from the cabinet. You almost never wore makeup or had the need to, but for once you were glad you owned some. It only took a few minutes to dab the concealer everywhere; the result wasn't the best but it was better than nothing. If you could just manage to stay in low enough light for a while, Din might not even notice.

Doubtful, but it was worth a shot.

Once you were satisfied with your little handiwork, you scooped Grogu up and headed back to the small garden of the house that now served as your home. You set him down to play in the patch of dirt with his ball and whatever else amused him while you finished tending to your fruits and vegetables. Having a more stable and permanent home had led to a lot more time for such hobbies. You never thought you'd like such things, but domestic life hadn't taken long to get used to. Especially not with Din and Grogu. It was almost funny to think at one point you didn't even know their names; now they were your home and heart - everything.

You sang quietly under your breath while you worked and he played, wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn't hear the arrival of a certain Mandalorian.

"Hello there," you almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice as he came strolling into the backyard. He had the audacity to chuckle as you clutched your rapidly beating heart, "sorry, cyar'ika."

"Din," he laughed as you stuck your tongue out at him. Grogu had wasted no time in waddling over to Din and tugged on his pant leg to be picked up. The Mandalorian had eagerly obliged, taking off his helmet to press his forehead against Grogu's, "you bantha fodder! You can't just sneak up like that!"

"Such language in front of a child," he laughed as you stood up and brushed yourself off.

"He's older than us...technically," you reminded him before you both laughed.

"I wasn't sneaking," Din insisted, "just because you didn't hear me."

"Yeah, yeah," you bounced over to him, practically beaming as he reached over and tenderly touched your cheek, "'missed you."

"I've only been gone since this morning," he laughed as you shrugged and leaned over and stole a quick kiss. You could feel him leaning into your touch as you grinned at him, "I missed you too."

Grogu babbled happily as he looked between the two of you, prompting you to kiss the top of his fuzzy little head. You couldn't leave the little one feeling left out, naturally.

You were about to say something else, but Din quickly stopped you as he reached up and put his hand under chin, angling your face towards his.

"What happened?"

Dank Farrik. In your excitement and surprise of seeing Din, you'd forgotten all about your face. Oops.

"Umm, nothing?"

"Just tell me, little klutz," he'd definitely gotten used to your clumsy tendencies over the last couple of years.

"Don't laugh," you pouted as he tried to put on a serious face which just caused his lips to twitch as he fought a smile, "I was trying to run a bath for him earlier and the tap got stuck and I tried to pull it and used too much force o-or something and got it loose and then smacked myself in the face."

"You did this to yourself," he asked as you just nodded sheepishly. Din couldn't help but laugh, the sweet sounds winning you over as you joined him in laughing, "well, I'm sure I can make it better."

"Yeah?" you asked sweetly as he nodded before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah," he promised softly, "always."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A hiss escaped your lips as Din wiped away the makeup you had applied to cover the bruise and slight swelling. He murmured an apology under his breath as he looked at the injury in the light. It wasn’t too bad - superficial luckily and probably looked worse than it was due to the bruising.

“What’s the verdict, Dr. Djarin?”

“You’ll be fine,” he promised as he grabbed a warm washcloth and held it against the worst of swelling, “we’ll get some bacta salve on it and it should be fine in a day or so. The bruising might take a bit but the pain will be gone soon. The only thing I’m worried about is you.”

“Me?” you asked as he nodded, pulling out a jar of the salve that had become your good friend over the years, “why me?”

“Because you are a danger to yourself,” a smile tugged on his lips, “I’ve never met anyone that manages to hurt themselves as much as you.”

“But that’s why you love me,” you teased as he tenderly applied the cooling gel, which immediately made you feel better, “I always manage to keep you busy. Well, me and Grogu.”

“And to think the first time you hurt yourself, when you rolled your ankle, you didn’t want to tell me,” he reminded you as you laughed lightly, “isn’t this better?”

“Because you’re always dramatic,” you gently grabbed his hand when he was done and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, “but I love you either way.”

“I love you too,” he whispered as he swiped his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “look at you, cyar’ika, much better already. How about some tea and then we go to bed?”

“Thank you, Din,” you whispered, “for everything.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he insisted as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “although you could try being less of a danger to yourself!”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore​

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks. 

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play. 

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket. 

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked. 

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired. 

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls. 

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

[dameronology]

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing. 

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives. 

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you. 

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea. 

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer. 

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms. 

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett. 

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied. 

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him. 

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him,  yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded. 

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case). 

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’ 

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought? 

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck. 

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun -  barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say. 

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him. 

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down. 

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it. 

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence. 

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know. 

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din. 

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded. 

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’ 

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking. 

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours. 

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it. 

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him. 

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee​ @maharani-radha​ @kat-r-in​

[darkisrising]

“Write for yourself,” some thoughts

Write for yourself, absolutely. But once you *have* written  it is completely normal and understandable to want an audience for what you made. You spent time on it, you held it in your heart, you wanted to see it out in the world to share it with others. When others don’t see it to the degree you were hoping they would it absolutely fucking sucks. I get this from new writers and established writers, everyone gets salty and sad when they don’t get the response that they were anticipating.  I hate how we use the “you should write for yourself” advice as a purity test for art. You didn’t get the response you wanted? Well clearly you weren’t writing for the “right” reasons. Disappointment happens. No one is wrong for being disappointed. And, unfortunately, when that happens there are really only two options from there: you can keep going or you can quit. I will be completely candid and say in my many creative pursuits I have done both. I *have* quit when the heavy hearted disappointment outweighed my enjoyment, when I couldn’t start the activity without mourning the small deaths of all my past hopes. And you know what? Coming out the other end there is regret that I quit but it was fine. I have also pushed through, continued despite not getting reactions I’d hoped for, and have been rewarded for it. Sometimes there’s a happy ending, attention and feedback that has helped me trudge on. Sometimes not. Either way, it’s not something I could ever control. If anyone is looking at some insight I’ve found it’s this: the best thing I ever did for my writing was to read. And when I read and fall a little in love with the writer, the best best thing I ever learned was to develop an ability to see what they were doing in their writing that I admired and tried to incorporate it in my own writing to improve.  Like currently? There’s this trick that writers whose fic I admire do where instead of including the “he says” “she says” after dialogue they end the dialogue with a period and then include actions before picking up the dialogue again, and it is absolutely seamless. Like this: Bone Dragon, by @whreflections “I’m not talking about bringing Scar back from the dead.”  She tapped her notebook, her eyes warm and bright.  She had always loved sharing with him, telling him a new story he’d never heard before.  “A necromancer doesn’t bring back the dead.  They bring back something else—what that something else is depends on what kind of story you’re telling, and what you believe.  Sometimes, they bring back a monster—but I like it better when they bring back a friend.” ...or... A Thousand Prayers for the Dead, by @sushiburritonoms “It’s a holiday, he’s allowed to be spoiled.” Boba closed the gap between them and pulled Din close, dipping his head so Din could meet his helmeted forehead. The warmth of the taller man’s arms around him made the tension in his lower back ease somewhat. “It looks like you survived your trip.” It seems like such a small thing, but instictually it’s not how I want to write, and for now every time I attempt it, it comes across incredibly clunky. But I know once I get it figured out, I’ll come out the other side with another trick in my pocket to whip out when I write. Does it help the feelings of disappointment when things don’t happen the way I want them to? Not entirely. I’ve “retired” nearly every week since I started writing fanfic, as all my friends can tell you. But it helps to have something else to focus on so that you just. keep. moving. forward.  Anyway, I hope that helps whoever needs to hear it. Keep moving forward. Onwards and maybe not upwards but always onwards. 

[after-witch]

Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You shouldn’t be this nervous about telling your boyfriend that you want to transfer to a college out of state. Ransom is nothing if not generous with you--so why is your stomach in knots?

Word Count: 3144

notes: yandere, sexism, emotional abuse

You shouldn’t be this nervous. Really. Ransom has been nothing but generous with you, and in turn you’ve been patient--maybe too patient, maybe too forgiving, sometimes--with him. It��s only fair that he extends that patience to you, especially with something as serious, as important, as your future.

So why does the thought of telling him about your plan to switch to a new college make you feel like you’re going to throw up?

You puff out your cheeks and stretch your arms across the breakfast table, leaning down and wishing you could ask someone else to tell him in person. But the thought is ridiculous, and you push it away in favor of rehearsing what you’re going to say for the millionth time since you made up your mind.

You will tell him about the need to change your degree if you want to ever be in the contending for a museum curator position in the future. You will tell him about the fact that the best place to get this specific degree, the one that will put you right in the open arms of the internship that leads to your dream curator field, is in California. You will tell him about the apartments you’ve already inspected. You will tell him about the fact that he can visit anytime, that you will visit him, that you can text and video call and vacation together. You will tell him that you love him and you want to make this work.

You will tell him all these things… and yet. Yet while you can rehearse the words, rehearse how you’ll push your printed out papers showing exactly what you need to do and why towards him so he can see you’re telling the exact truth, you can’t rehearse how Ransom will react. You try to imagine, but all that comes up is a blurry, grey blank.

Is he going to freak out? Get pissed? Or worse--not care at all? Maybe you’ve overestimated how much Ransom has invested in this relationship. Maybe he’d rather cut you loose than deal with a long distance relationship. Maybe the second you mention that you’ll be moving to California, he’ll be mentally checking a list for someone local to hook up with the minute you’re gone.

You’re not sure which reaction would scare you more.

But you don’t have much time to think about it, because you hear him padding down the stairs, hear the din of some video he’s still watching, probably whatever he put on while he was in the shower. You can’t bear to look up, and you thumb aimlessly, nervously around your phone’s apps while you listen to the sound of him scraping the eggs and bacon you’d cooked onto a plate.

He plops down in the seat across from you and you glance up. He catches your eye and gives a tight-lipped, tired smile. He was out late. But he’d texted you about staying out late earlier in the evening, so you didn’t feel you had the right to be mad--that’s the condition you’d given him, after all, when he’d accused you of being controlling. When he’d called you a nag and accused you of being jealous of other women, women he had no feelings for.

“I just want to know when you’re going to be out late so I don’t stay up half the night thinking you’re dead somewhere.” And so he did--let you know--and you swallowed down your feelings of suspicion at his late night adventures.

Maybe… maybe this is a bad time to tell him. Maybe you should wait for a day when he’s had more sleep. Maybe you should run your thoughts by someone else, get a second opinion. You’re focusing on the table, on the light from the phone screen, anything to avoid looking up and starting the dreaded conversation.

“What’re those papers for, babe?”

Shit.

Your hands tremble just a bit when you set the phone down, and the way it vibrates against the table mimics the way your stomach feels right now. You suck in a breath and look up, but you can’t make eye contact just yet and you push the words out, stumbling and breathy and rapid, without stopping to breathe until you’ve said your peace.

“Ransom this is really hard for me but we need to talk about something and I don’t want you to be mad but I need to change schools if I’m ever going to get a shot at a curator position and the best school for this is in California and I know it’s going to be hard but I love you--I love you and we can make long distance work if you want and if you don’t want well--well I don’t know what I’ll do then but I just wanted to let you know now because I’ve got to turn in my application next week and please please try to see this from my point of view because it’s all I’ve ever wanted and you know that.”

You take a shaky breath and hold your hands together on top of the table, clasped and shaking from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through you. You look up at Ransom with trepidation, hoping that he’s not mad--or indifferent.

But he’s neither. He simply looks… confused.

He simply stares at you for a moment, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he processes all of the words that just came rapid-fire out of your mouth.

“California?” Is all he says, finally.

You take the opportunity to push the stack of printed papers towards him. “These are… it’s… well, emails from people in the industry, some important articles about getting positions at museums. About where you have to go. Oh, there’s apartment listings there, too.” You even printed out detailed information about the qualifications for acceptance, and put them in a neat little table next to your own academic and experience record. You were a shoo-in, and you didn’t feel the need to be humble about it.

He grabs the stack and starts thumbing through, not saying another word as he seemingly thoroughly reads everything you’ve printed out. Your stomach feel like floating lead, heavy and flipping. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling, and he’s not giving you anything but a concentrated look at he looks through the statements, the listings, the plan you’ve outlined so neatly.

He finally sets the stack back down and simply stares at it for a few moments. Taking it in. Taking his thoughts in. Finally, Ransom looks up at you and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach drop. He doesn’t look mad. He looks--and you hate it--disappointed, sad even.

“Look…” He sighs, eyebrows lifting as his gaze drifts away before settling back on you. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m okay with this. I’m not. Jesus, babe. California? Four years?”

“It’s no--” you interrupt, but he holds up his hand and you stop.

“But. But, but,” he lightly pounds his fist on the stack of tables, an almost nervous gesture in your eyes. “It’s what you want? What you need for your career? There’s no other way for you to get this--” he waves his hands around, “museum gig you’re after?”

You nod, unable--no, afraid--to speak, in case your voice is too tight with emotion.

“Then I guess I can deal with it.”

“What?” You blurt the words out.  You expected… an argument. Or for him to blow you off, make it seem like you weren’t serious. Or, as you’d admitted to yourself earlier, for him to throw you away and find someone who wouldn’t make him wait around. Not… acceptance.

He laughs at your reaction and your stomach feels lighter, the tension in your body starting to fizzle away. “

“It’s not like I have to worry about getting the money to come visit, right? And hey,” he continues, “if you need someone to put in a good word to this school… maybe throw some cash at a dean or something…” He raises his eyebrows, wiggling them a little in a way that makes you snort.

You lean forward and nab one of the lukewarm pieces of scrambled eggs from his plate and pop it into your mouth. “Since you’re offering to help, I could use someone to check over my application…”

**

The envelope is too small. It’s way too small. Why did they make the envelope so damn small? Maybe the acceptance letter was sent on its own, and all of the other information--the giant packet telling you where to send payments and sign up for courses--would be sent to your email. But the thought of checking your email and seeing nothing makes you feel sick, so you keep your phone next to you on the table.

“You gotta open it,” Ransom says, soft and casual. He doesn’t move from his place beside you on the sofa, watching you with a neutral look. He probably knows why the envelope is too small, but he won’t say the words out loud--just like you won’t. If you say it out loud, then it’s true.

There's nothing else for you to do except confront the truth, and you rip open the envelope and pull out the folded paper with far too few printed words on the page.

Rejected. Outright. Completely. Not a fit for the school or the program.

If you weren’t sitting on the couch, you would have fallen over. As it is,  you feel like the world is collapsing, like the sofa underneath you is melting into the floor and taking you with it.

“I don’t understand.” You can only manage to whisper, voice small--reflecting the way the rest of you feels. Small and falling and stupid.

Ransom takes the paper from your hand, and you don’t bother keeping a grip on it. You register the fact that he’s put an arm around your shoulders, but you can barely feel it through the numbness of rejection.

“What the fuck,” he says, voice louder next to your ear. It makes you shrink in more, even though his anger isn’t directed at you. “What the fuck.”

It’s you want to say, what you would say, if you had the strength. The energy. But the absolute, complete way that your future has suddenly become an unknown blank has left you stuck and heavy.

It doesn’t make sense. Your transcript was perfect--should have been perfect. You should have gotten in. You got top grades and references from professors and a list of relevant experiences that most students wouldn’t have until the end of their degree.

“I’m going to call them and find out what-the-fuck,” Ransom says suddenly, getting up with a jerking motion and walking towards the kitchen, where his phone rests on the counter. “No,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Better yet. I’ll call my grandfather. He’ll know how to convince this so-called top school that they made a big mistake.”

The thought makes your head spin. “Ransom, don’t.” You’re not a child. But you feel like one, like you just failed a math quiz and your dad is calling to find out why the teacher doesn’t know the quiz answers from his ass. “You can’t just call a school and make them accept someone.”

Your legs feel wobbly when you stand up, and Ransom practically swoops back to your side to hold you steady. He leads you back down on the sofa and you feel yourself accepting the loss, accepting that your dream is gone, or at least altered.

He squeezes an arm around you when you finally begin to cry, and for the moment you feel better, less worthless, less hopeless. It was just one rejection. One egg. You can’t put every egg in one basket, as they say.

You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh into it, enjoying the warmth and closeness. A feeling of luck pings at your heart. You’re really lucky to have a guy like Ransom. He’s not perfect, and sometimes you fight, and sometimes he does things that hurt you, but--are you perfect? Do you do things that hurt him, too? Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

With comfort comes clarity. The world isn’t ending. Your future isn’t blank. There are other options.

You feel almost perked up when you speak: “I guess I can apply to other schools. Maybe it won’t be the exact one I wanted but… there’s some in Chicago, even Michigan, that might work.”

Ransom’s arm tightens around you, slightly but firmly enough to notice.

“Babe, you’re not serious.”

You pull back enough to look up at his face.

“What do you mean?”

You can see Ransom fighting with his annoyed expression, trying to soften it up. You dimly recognize that you should be grateful--you know how snarky he can get with others when he’s not putting on a filter.

“Your transcript was fucking impeccable. I saw it! I sent it in for you! And you still didn’t get in. You think these other schools are going to accept you….” He trails off, leaning his head back, looking disappointed of all things. Disappointed in you? Or the school?  You can’t tell. All you know is that it makes you feel low again, like you’re nothing, falling into the floor with a sense of worthlessness.

“I’m not tryin’ to be an asshole,” he says, and there’s a flicker of doubt in your mind about the truth of that statement. “I’m just trying to be honest. I don’t want you to have to deal with getting rejected from all those other schools, too. You know what I mean?”

You swallow down against the tightness in your throat. “Their standards might not be as strict. I know they’re not as strict. I could get in.”

He looks down at you, the same intense gaze from the morning that you told him about your plan on his face. The gaze that let you know he believed in you and would do anything--even go long distance for almost half a decade--for you. A gaze that let you know he was serious, honest, giving you his thoughts with an open heart. “Keyword. Could.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Are you saying I’m too stupid to get in anywhere?” You start to pull away, but his arms don’t let up and so all you can do is turn your head away, cheeks hot with humiliation. “Don’t you support me?”

“Jesus, no--and Jesus, yes.” Annoyance is bleeding into his voice and you wish you’d just ripped up the envelope and avoided the entire conversation. You keep your eyes on the floor, humiliating tears blurring your vision as you stare at the sliver of a stain from soda that you never got out of the cream colored rug.

“You are the smartest chick I know,” he says, voice a little softer, now. At least he’s trying to stop being an ass. “Seriously, you are. Maybe you’re just a--a different kind of smart. A  kind of smart these schools don’t give a shit about. Do something here with that smartness, then. Stay where you’re at. Fuck, talk to the dean and tell them you want to to an independent degree or something. But don’t get your heart broken a million times when you could just make the most of what you’ve got here.” He squeezes, affectionate. “What we’ve got here.”

It’s not what you want. It’s not viable. You can’t get to where you want to be if you stay where you are. But he’s right--he’s right, isn’t he, because if you can’t get into a school with a nearly picture-perfect record and recommendations and experience oozing out of your ears, will there be any school that accepts you?

And if you stay here, Ransom is here, and you’re already in school here, and maybe you won’t get anywhere near a curator position (but you want to, it’s your dream, why give up on your dream?) but you can do something else, surely. Ransom will help you, like he always does. You might fight and argue and sometimes it gets intense but he always lends you a shoulder to cry on, doesn’t he? He’s always honest with you, even when it hurts. Even when it hurts like this, crushing and disappointing and sharp.

He pulls you closer to him, and this time you don’t fight as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“So?” He starts to gently stroke your hair, the way he knows you like it.

You nod, sniffling against the last of the tears, unable--afraid--to say anything. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, before gently flicking your forehead and reaching for his phone. “Hey, let’s go see a movie tonight. My treat.”

You nod against his shirt, unable to do more than mumble back, “Okay.” Okay, okay, okay. It’s a soft, unceremonious end to your California dreams.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​ @dunderr​ @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​ @mbpokemonrulez​  @oloreaa​ @red-leaders​ @speakerforthedead0​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @theflightytemptressadventure​ @ubri812​ @zoemariefit​​

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face. 

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no. 

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback. 

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.  

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing. 

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor. 

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand. 

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

[lunasblipsandblurbs]

hi darlin! if youre able, could you maybe write somethin about the boys getting a call from the reader where theyre crying and they want their man to come get them? how would the boys react? who would go into panic mode and who would go into protector mode? hope you are doin well! happy holidays!!

ohhh loving the ~drama~ of this one. Also I am def the bitch to call someone crying so self indulgence lets gooooo

Gender Neutral

Also happy holidays bbys! Sorry im a bit slow with requests latley, tis the holiday season so Im a busy bee rn.

Din Djarin

PROTECTOR MODE ACTIVATED, for real the fact you called him CRYING, something Din is not accustomed to just sent a death wish on the person who upset you. Din is immediately giving you instructions on where to seperate yourself from the situation upsetting you as he is already landing the crest and leaving the ramp, stalking off to find you, and he will it will only take like 20 minites max with this bounty hunter.

Javier Peña

He's up and out of his office ripping his keys from his desk drawer. He didn't even really hear what was upsetting you but he knows your location and hes already bolted out the door. Javi's learned the hardest way to not let that bad feeling in your stomach be, especially regarding people he cares for. He's not taking any more chances as he busts through your apartment to find out you're so upset because your pet fish, flounder, passed. He's honestly gonna release a huge sigh of relief when he hugs you. Its just the fucking fish making you sad...he will just go get you another one if you want? But its NOT THE SAME JAVI

Frankie Morales

Panic this man is fucking panicing and the panic ends up morphing into being pissed. Who or what the fuck has upset you to the point of you calling Frankie from your office bathroom begging him to pick you up from your office party. As he pulls up he hits the curb graclessly in his mission to get to you ASAP. Once he finds you he instantly ushers you into his truck, it's a safe haven for you both. He doesn't make you explain anything as he drops a comforting hand to your thigh, squeezing the thickest part periodically.

Ezra (prospect)

When Ezra's headset fuzzes in your voice crying, in obvious distress he's instantly going to panic. He's already speaking a mile a minute asking you tons of questions of where you are. Once he comes upon you on your knees with some imbecile pointing a thrower to your glass he does not hesitate to whip out his blaster and kill the intruder with no second thought. He's going to call it a day then and there as you both make your way back to your pod, you sniffling quietly as Ezra has your hand locked with his, leading the way.

Max Phillips

Max is going to leave his work meeting early with no qualms upon hearing your message from his secretary. Yes, he hypnotized the old bastards to just take the deal and GTFO so he can speed off to pick you up. Once you plop yourself into his car he's gonna reach over and gently massage the back of your neck as he drives back to your place. Trying to sooth any headaches before they can even begin. You'll talk once your home and more calm anyway.

Pero Tovar

WOW so the random merchant just WANTS to die today, okay. When Pero finds you back home after he saw you on your horse rush out of the town square he instantly is mounting his own, racing after you. By the time he reaches your shared home your already inside in bed crying into Pero's pillow. When he rubs your back gently coaxing you into telling him whats so upsetting. Once he hears tho what the merchant said to you, his eyes immediately cloud with rage as he stalks across the room and grabs his sword, leaving with only a "I will be back shortly, Amor."

Marcus Pike

Oh this man is going to instantly go into protector mode. He loves you with his whole person and he cannot handle your tears. He empathizes with you on the phone and calms you down enough so you are only sniffling. He's on the phone with you the whole car ride there until hes at your work building. He's gonna find you and give you his keys, having you go to the car as he strolls off to have a 'friendly' conversation with your creepy ass co-worker and then your boss. Flashing them his F.B.I badge was an instant threat to both parties. After that there were no more crying phone calls.

Agent Whiskey

This man is like insanely protective over you as is. And the fact you call him crying instantly lights a raging fire in the pit of his stomach. He goes into secret agent mode immediately finding you and instructing you gently to go to the bronco. When he swaggers back to the car sporting some bloody knuckles you really don't need to ask what happend, Jack's smile already comfirms he got what you both wanted.

Dave York

When you call Dave crying in hystarics he's going to calmly tell you he's on his way and to "don't worry baby, I'll be there." And when he gets there he's instantly scanning the situation to figure out what went down without asking you to dive deep into whats upsetting you. By the time your both home he has you tucked under his chin, sitting on his lap together on the love seat. You explain to him what happened as he frowns and plays with your wedding ring. When you reveal exactly who hurt you he already has a plan on how to um...get rid of your problem? He's a murder man and the fact this asshole just harrassed his spouse? Nope they're dead.

Zach Wellison

His Marine training is going to kick right in. He wont even realize it but on the phone with you his voice changes into something commanding with no questions asked he tells you where to place yourself so he can find you as quickly as possible. He hates it when you cry and the fact hes not already there to calm you down kills him. He's going to find you and rush you out of the environment causing you stress. Once you two get home he knows how exhausting crying is so he showers with you and soothes you to nap together to try and have somewhat of a restart to the day.

Omar Assarian

He. Is. Pissed. Who the fuck just made his partner fucking cry!? He is going to puff up to a larger stance with the rage, going into his boxer mode. Serious, no nonesense, and to the point. You don't win by dancing around your opponent. So he's going to ask you right away what the issue is and what you need him to do right now. HE wants to just go off and start beating up whoever upset you but this is about YOU, what do you need from him right now? Hes gonna get you back to your place asap so you can calm down and be as comfortable as possible. You two are gonna end your day cuddled up binging trash tv as you sport Omar's hoodie.

[dollscircus]

Adenn Baar’ur - Chapter 3

(Merciless Medic)

Summary: Finding an injured Mandalorian wasn’t how you expected the night to end; surprisingly forming a strange friendship with “Big Blue” however he begins to realise that you have a connection with another mandalorian which was unknown to you.

Paring: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader. F!Reader & Din Djarin (Siblings)

Includes: Fluff, Character death and angst.

Words: 2, 419

Chapter 1

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

You dream a lot- no not really. You get nightmares a lot. Mostly memories of the day you lost everything. Mother, father and your brother. Din’s screams filled your mind every night, and that night was no different. You woke up yelling while tears streamed down your face. However, your attention turned to your body. Throbbing ribs and head. A slight shuffling caused you to glance at the person standing near your bed. Blue watched you for a couple of seconds, seemingly stunned.

“Sorry-“ You muttered while wiping the tears, “Maker, that’s embarrassing.” You forced a slight chuckle as Blue approached the cot, which bowed under his weight as he sat on the edge. Reaching towards your face, Blue cupped your face with his hands. His thumb wiping away a tear, you found yourself leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. Letting out a shuddering breath mixed with a wince of pain.

“I’m going to kill that, hut'uun-“ Blue muttered under his breath, but you could barely understand it. As he spoke his hand pulled away, you found yourself missing the touch; you hadn’t realised how touch starved you were.

“Who?” You asked as you turned your attention to your body; mostly your ribs as you waited for a response you lifted the hem of your shirt just enough to see the bruising. The dark purple and blue patch seemed smaller than it should’ve, and the pain wasn’t as bad as you remembered.

“I used some of the bacta- helps with pain-“ Blue spoke, noticeably avoiding your question. You dropped your shirt back down and looked at him. Furrowing your brow.

“Who are you going to kill? What’s a hut’uun?”

“I was attacked because of him- a mandalorian. I was mistaken for him.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out of your lips, it sounded more like a giggle.

“I’ve heard stories of how Mando looks-“ You shocked your head in disbelief, “How do you even confuse you two?” Blue was huge- large and for kriff sake blue! You had to be a real idiot to mistake the two.

“Hell of a first date-“ You chuckled, laughing more at the absurdity of that.

“So, you class this as romantic?” He teased.

“Of course,” You responded in a coy tone of voice, “You saved my life. That’s romantic as kriff.” Your tone was joking but your words seemed to make him sad as you didn’t get a response for a few moments.

“Why do you do this?” He asked however you were unsure of what he meant so you tilted your head to the side, “What you do is dangerous. Helping people who don’t deserve it.” The tone in his voice indicated to you that the last sentence wasn’t referring to any of the people you treat but himself.

“I lost my home. My family. Everything. Bounty hunters took me in. Trust me, they weren’t good people by any means but they saved me. So, my only use was as their medic. So, when most of them were killed. I used the only skill I really knew.” You felt a strike of sadness but shook it off before reaching to Blue’s helmet and touching the cold metal, offering the kindest smile you could, “Don’t feel guilty, mandalorian. I’ve had worse.” That didn’t really help.

A sudden thud from down in the infirmary caused you to jump and suddenly pull your hand away. The distant voice of Aki rang out and much to your horror she was calling your name. You jolted forward in your cot yelping in surprise and also hoping your yelp would drown out her yells. However they didn’t, as she burst into your room her yells drowned out yours.

“Djarin!” Eh, you were glad she didn’t say your first name but this was still annoying. You growled and glared at her, as she stared at the strange sight in front of her.

“Aki-“ You started, you hadn’t even noticed Blue go completely still next to you. “What did I tell you about-“ She threw her arms over your shoulders, it seems she didn’t even notice Blue but she did notice your yelp of pain. Pulling back, she brushed the hair from your face and pet your head like you were a child. Pulling away from her, you frowned at her. It seemed she finally noticed Blue as he shifted on the cot.

“Why is there a mandalorian on your cot?” She asked quickly.

“I’ll explain later-“

Blue quickly rose from the bed muttering something about getting back, a little startled it took a second for you to respond. Muttering your own goodbye. However, before he left it seemed he had forgotten Aki’s presence as he gently cupped your face in his hands and gently touched the forehead of his helmet to yours very quietly speaking;

“Be careful Mesh’la.” Then as quickly as he appeared he left.

Aki and You watched the door for a few moments and when he was out of ear shot, Aki turned to you and gave you a look. It read “What the hell?’ Still annoyed about her leaking your name, you shook your head and dropped back to the cot tired. Saying something about getting more sleep.

You healed quickly and by the time it went dark you were working down in the infirmary with little to no pain and Aki was out on a home visit. You kept yourself busy while ignoring any pain you felt. The night was slow which you were thankful for as you sat down in a chair, letting out a tired sigh as you watched the ceiling for a few moments. Completely in your own world but the high pitched sound of your coms caused you to turn your head toward it and check the massage. You picked up the call.

“Hello? Medic here.”

“I’ve got a quarry injured. Could you come meet us at the edge of town?” You didn’t recognize the voice, his voice sounded weird. Almost distorted- more so than usual on coms.

“Near the cantina?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, could you tell me the state of the quarry?”

“Blaster wounds mostly.”

“Got it. What ship are you in and name?”

“Razor Crest.”

You noticed he didn’t include a name as you both hung up the call. Sighing, you stood up and gathered your kit before taking off. Bidding Aki farewell on the way. The Razor Crest was a beaten up ship, not in a horrible state but as you approached the ship the door on the side began to open with a creek. As it dropped to the floor someone began to walk down out the ship. You quickly recognised the person, the last time you saw him he was younger and dropping you off at Navarro. Uriel hadn’t noticed you yet, paying more attention to a small bag.

“Uriel?” You called out, it sounded kinda like a scoff mixed with a laugh, “You son of a bitch!”

He perked up and looked over to you. His bored expression quickly turned to a happy one and his arms suddenly spread open while happily exclaiming. You approached him and you both exchanged an impromptu handshake, he was an older fella and looked like he had been through hell and back- twice. Most of the time, you were the one patching him up.

“D-“ He started to say ‘Djarin’ but stopped himself, “Kid, you look good! Navarro been treatin’ nicely?” The quick jabbing pain in your rib caused you to scowl.

“You look like shit- and of course it hasn’t earned myself some fractured ribs last night.” Uriel took in a quick inhale through his teeth, you glanced up at the ship frowning slightly.

“You can’t fly for shit- so who’s with you?”

As if on cue heavy footsteps could be heard as the Mandaloiran walked down the ramp, smaller than Blue and his baskar looked a little beaten up. He was silent as he drug the bloodied quarry down to the ramp and dropped him at the bottom. The blaster wounds weren’t very bad, so some bacta patches would do the trick. As you patched the quarry, you mostly kept silent as Uriel rambled on but you were vaguely aware of eyes glued to the back of your head. Mando watched you carefully as you worked.

“Hey Mando.” You started, “How’d you get saddled with this sack of shit?” However the person who answered was Uriel.

“We were huntin’ the same person. Split the bounty 40/60.” Your lip twitched in annoyance as you responded.

“Uriel. I didn’t ask you.” You turned around to face the bounty hunters, “I asked Mando.”

“He followed me until I agreed to split the bounty with him-“ Mando said after a few moments and you could hear the irritation in his voice. You suppressed the giggle as you turned back around muttering something about that sounding like him. As you finished with the guarry you rose to your feet and looked to Uriel. Wanting to avoid Mando’s constant gaze.

“I’ll pay you with something else-“ His annoying cheerful full tone faded when he spoke, “Information.” You sighed, and shook your head.

“I can’t live off information, Uriel-“ You spoke but he raised his hand to silence you, while you too spoke Mando excused himself back into the ship with the patched up quarry in tow.

“These a bounty on you. A pretty sizable one at that-“ You tried to think who would want your head however you couldn’t remember pissing anyone off enough on Navarro to warrant something like that.

“Is it on Medic or Djarin?” You spoke, forgetting you might’ve been in earshot of the mandalorian however the sudden clutter in the ship told you he was too busy to listen in.

“Djarin.” Uriel responded, in a hushed tone. You scoffed, and shook your head side to side.

“Well, she’s dead. You guys made sure of that when you dumped me here- Only you and-“ You paused, thinking it through. It was true that Uriel and one other person asked from Aki knew your birth name. Burton knows. Burton's one crazy son of a- Insane, doesn’t care about anyone aside from himself. You were sure that man would sell out his own mother if the price was high enough.

“Burton took my bounty- Didn’t he?” Your voice trembled slightly, the fear is your expression read as panic. Uriel nodded his head, you spoke again. “Is he on Navarro?” Again Uriel nodded. You suddenly did a 180 and took off running. Uirel called after you, confused but you kept running even when Uriel shouted your first name. You guessed on accident but again ignored him and kept going. Hoping you could get home before it was too late.

Uirel watched you disappear and stood by the ramp for a few moments unaware of the quickly approaching Mandalorian until he firmly grasped him agrasped his arm and pulled him towards him. His modulated voice came through as aggressive and urgent.

“What did you just say?” A little confused, Uriel didn’t respond for a couple of second so Mando shook him while repeating the questions and adding,

“Her name. What did you just say she was?”

“Y/N.” Uriel sputtered, “Y/N Djairn.” He thought that a mandalorian was the least of your troubles right now.

The thing about Burtonis. He doesn’t like getting his hand messy, he never lets a quarry live and never leaves them in one piece. Rather plating explosives and watching them get torn to shreds. Aki was home- Maker Aki was home. Your heaving chest burned as you ran, your ribs begging you to take a break and your lungs working overtime. Each panic breath you took hurt and steps were unsteady.

Seeing the infirmary, you were about to run into it when something grabbed you from behind and held you in place. However your panicked state only caused you to throw your body about to an attempt to break free. Yelling out Aki’s name. You pressed into what felt like baskar. Fighting against whoever was holding you back, you struck your elbow out multiple times hoping to get lucky and hit soft a bit only resulting in hurting yourself. You could hear a voice trying to speak to you but you didn’t listen.

He needed to let go- or else- The place is going to blow and Aki’s still in- The shockwave of the explosion sent you both back on to the floor, dust and smoke dusting the front of your skin as you shielded your face with your face with your arms. You hadn’t even noticed the small bit’s of shrapnel had struck your arms. As the rubble settled, the grip around you faltered and let you drop from your hands and knees. The faint red mist coated the floor and you heard screaming. Your own.

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