#chapter 1 the mandalorian

[shirozora-draws]

Part 1 of "dinluke + kisses ruined my workflow". Part 2 is in the far future because I am writing two fics, I don't have the time to map out and draw a 1-page silent comic. I am also still rusty as hell so maybe work on drawing a bit more before attempting another comic? Maybe????

Inspired by me losing my mind over an ask for an ask game. Huge shoutout to @violets-and-mints-reblogs for derailing the last hours of my workday. I really needed that break from writing.

[its-not-a-pen]

-Kidnapping? I prefer the term "surprise adoption"-

Maul rescues grogu, inspired by Mand'alor Darasuum by @withercrown

I wanted to explore the dark side of maul's complicated relationship with grogu. He's so protective yet covetous, clutching this one ray of light to his chest. His embrace is like a darkness, engulfing grogu, threatening to smother him.

[25centsoda]

DinLuke Fic in honor of AO3 Down

Chapter 1 of my five-chapter wip (currently getting my ass kicked by chapter 3) to feed the starving masses on this terrible day of AO3 Down. Fic and summary subject to change by the time I finish, edit, and finally post it. Fair warning this chap is 9 pages on my google doc.

Summary: After rescuing Grogu, Din retired to a quiet life as a lighthouse keeper with his son. Unfortunately, his life is determined to be anything but quiet.

Tags: Mermaid au, DinLuke, Din Djarin, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Little Mermaid-ish, fantasy au, modern au, AAC, autistic Grogu, nonspeaking Grogu, Din was a hitman

EDIT: AUGH apparently AO3 came back up while I was posting. Was supposed to be down for 3 more hours...smh. Anyways, enjoy ig!

There was a merman lying on the rocky beach, above the tidal line, not twenty feet away.

Din rubbed his eyes. Blinked. The merman was still there.

He turned around.

Turned back.

Still there.

His gaze drifted up to the clouds as he thought, mind churning like stormy waves. Had he had breakfast that morning? Or water? Dehydration did things to the brain, right? Maybe the kid had kept him up too late and he was dreaming…

A rock landed very near his foot. He looked down.

The merman was waving to him. Propped up on one pale arm, with blue…gills? Fins? Waving merrily just behind his ears. There were more fins along the back of each arm. He was smiling and mouthing something, but no sound was coming out.

Din better not be hallucinating.

He picked his way across the rocks and stopped in front of the…fish. Man. Gods above, there were scales on this man’s bare stomach, and just below his belly button the skin faded entirely into blue scales, and his lower half was…

The merman flapped his tail, silently laughing. It slapped the ground with a wet sound.

Din could only stare.

The merman waved his hand, bringing Din’s attention back to his face, which was unfairly beautiful, a fact that Din elected to ignore. He began signing animatedly and mouthing something, but it wasn’t any sign language Din knew, and he’d never been great at reading lips.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

The merman stopped signing with a huff. He bit his lip, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. This beach was isolated—that’s why Din had chosen it. There was nothing around except for chunks of pale rocks in varying sizes, the water, and, distantly, grassy dunes. And the lighthouse Din was paid to keep.

“Hold on,” Din said. He got several steps away before another thrown rock reminded him to say, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something that will help.”

It was a long walk back to the lighthouse, but it was a walk he made every other day, to ensure that nothing weird or dangerous had washed up. And it was a good thing, too, because evidently something had washed up. Or…someone? Din wasn’t really sure how to refer to a literal merman. He still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing.

Grogu was waiting at the door for him, one little hand holding the doorframe as he leaned out of it, waving his device. “Ba!” he shouted. His black hair fell into his face—Din needed to cut it soon—as he looked down to make selections. As Din neared, the device read out, “Dad where go? Why back soon?”

Din tousled his son’s hair. “Just came back to grab something real quick, buddy. I’ve gotta go out again.”

Grogu tilted his head in question.

Din passed him, entering the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’ve found. Somebody that needs help, I think.”

.

.

.

Din made his way back to the beach. The merman was still there. Din wished he had thought to grab himself a bottle of water, or a snack or something, but the fact that the man was still there boded well for Din’s mental faculties, if not for the logic of the universe.

“Can you read English? D’you even know English? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Din felt stupid, talking to some hallucination-man-fish-thing, but the man nodded, so Din took that as a yes.

“Okay. Uh, well I have this.” He held out the communication board that he had brought. It was laminated—they all were, so that they would last longer—so it wouldn’t be bothered by the fact that the man reaching out a hand to take it was still dripping wet. Din had grabbed the hospital board rather than any of the core boards or fringe vocabularies, thinking that it would be the most useful. It wasn’t like Grogu already had a single-page board for mermaid trapped on the beach, and Din figured that the man was likely to be injured or hurting in some way, being so far up on the rocks. “Point to whatever you want to say.”

The merman examined the green board with interest, front and back. He seemed to read every icon carefully. The back had the alphabet and “YES”/”NO” along the bottom, a section labeled “I WANT”, a section labeled “I AM”, “I WANT TO SEE”, and a section containing icons for yes, no, thank you, stop, pen/paper. The front had pictures of a blank, uncolored body showing the front and back view with a pain scale in the middle, and icons describing different types of pain like itches, stings, can’t move. Along the sides of the front were requests for items, bathroom, and like that, don’t like, repeat that, speak louder.

After a while, Din said, “Well? Are you, uh, injured, or anything?”

The man scanned the board again, and finally pointed to the image of a glass labeled Water. As he did so, Din noticed that his fingers were webbed halfway together, with shimmering blue, nearly-transparent webbing. He looked up at Din.

“Right. Right.” Din found himself swinging his arms as he looked around the beach. He forced himself to stop. “I can. Uh.” How heavy could a fish-man be? Probably very heavy. Still—“I can bring you back to the ocean?”

The merman shook his head vehemently, eyes wide. Din noticed for the first time that they were blue, like the man’s fins. The man pointed to the red icon labeled NO over and over.

Din held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay. No ocean. Got it.” He didn’t understand in the slightest, but the message was clear. “What if I bring up a bucket?”

The man nodded.

Din…didn’t have a bucket on him. Luckily, there was a storage shed not too far from here—there was a dock about half a mile back. Once he had a bucket and filled it with water, he hesitated.

“Do you want me to just—” Din made a motion like he was going to throw the water on him.

The man gestured for the bucket. Din handed it over. The man dipped his hand in and splashed the water on the fins sticking out of his head.

Huh. Maybe those were his gills, or…something. Din didn’t exactly know that much about fish biology. Mostly what he knew about was killing. And, slowly, how to care for a nonspeaking toddler.

“Are you lost? Are you, uh, hungry?”

The man pointed to Thank you. 

Din was suddenly seized with the urge to know—”What’s your name? If—if you can spell it.” If a merman knew English, he could spell his name in English, right? Or would it be all clicks and whistles, like a dolphin?

He watched as the man spelled L—U—K—E.

“Luke.”

A nod and a smile.

“Luke,” Din said again, and wasn’t it enough that the man had an unfairly attractive face and, if he was already admitting things to himself anyway, body? Did he have to have a name that moved in Din’s mouth like that?

N—A—M—E—?

“What?”

Luke spelled it out again.

“Oh, my name.” Gods, Din was an idiot. “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Din. Luke mouthed the name, smiling. Din felt like he was going to combust.

“Uh, if you’re not going to go back in the ocean…” Din paused again. Luke shook his head wildly, almost unbalancing himself. Din forged on. “...would you like to come to my house? I have a bathtub I can fill with salt water for you; it’s probably more comfortable than these rocks.”

Luke pointed to Yes.

“Okay, great.”

It was quite the job getting Luke to his house. He’d thought he was pretty strong, but they had to take several breaks for Din to catch his breath. The merman was slimy in his arms, his scales rough. Luke held on to the (emptied) bucket and the hospital communication board. By the time they got back to the house, the sun was beginning to set, Din’s arms and shirt were rubbed raw, and Grogu was angry—at least, he was until he saw what Din had in his arms.

Grogu squealed. His device read out, “Mermaid! Mermaid! Mermaid!” He did a little dance, flapping his arms and twirling excitedly in the doorway.

“Move, kid,” Din grit out, muscles shaking. Luke waved from his arms.

Grogu got out of the way and Din made it all the way into the bathroom before he had to set Luke down again lest he drop him. Luke shivered on the cold tile. Din had to reach over him to turn on the tap. Grogu waited in the doorway, watching.

“Oh—sorry, do you need salt water?”

Luke pointed to Yes, his hands shaking. His golden-blond hair was drying now, into thick waves around his gills. Some of the blue spots on his skin were turning colorless, as well, which probably wasn’t great.

“Kid, stay with him a minute, I’m gonna get salt water.” Din pulled the drain open and stood, shaking off the water.

More buckets. More trips back and forth to the shore. It took more than Din had thought to fill up the bathtub. Luke splashed himself every so often as he waited. Grogu had brought in the whole folder of laminated communication boards, and pulled down the laminated booklet on a hook from the bathtub, and he and Luke were engaged in a vibrant conversation that meant that Din had to watch where he stepped lest he slip.

Finally, the tub was full, and Din hauled Luke up one last time, and into the water. Luke slapped his tail excitedly, splashing water everywhere. Grogu squealed, raising his little hands up to the sky. Din was entranced by the water shining off Luke’s blue scales, the almost translucent…skin?...on the bottom fin, the rigid, darker blue spines that held it together.

An alarm shook Din out of his thoughts.

He stood. “I’ve got to make dinner and get everything set up for the night. Are you two good here?”

Luke held up a beach vocabulary board and pointed to Yes. Grogu squealed again, nodding vigorously.

“Try not to make too much of a mess,” Din said. He put two towels on the floor in front of the tub, which soaked up some of the water. He held back a sigh. Fighting mold was a constant battle, in a building so close to the ocean. Hopefully any mold-related damages wouldn’t get taken out of his paycheck, even if they were in the bathroom and therefore probably his fault.

Attending to his regular duties kept Din’s mind off the merman in his bathroom for a while. He stood outside long enough to get a sense of the weather, and reported it on the radio, then listened to the airwaves for a while to see if there were any nearby boaters that needed rescuing—an über-rare occurrence, on this island. He briefly entertained the idea of radioing in his “rescue” of Luke, but what would he say? “I found a merman”? Saying that would be a one-way ticket to a psych eval if not a hospital stay - in other words, losing this safe haven where he and his son lived. Besides, without the merman in front of him, the whole thing felt like a dream. A dream that left raw skin on his chest and arms. A dream he wouldn’t breathe a word about.

He walked around the perimeter of the lighthouse and the station house, noting down any damages that would need repair or repainting soon. Took inventory of foodstuffs—they were starting to run low, but a supply was due in a week, and they had the garden, as long as a storm didn’t take it out. Tended the garden—ripped out some kudzu that kept somehow finding its way onto this isolated island, squirted bugs off the rosemary with one of Grogu’s little water guns. Checked on the water filters, generators, and radio antenna. Luckily everything was in decent order in spite of a day of neglect.

The sun was well and truly set by the time that Din went back inside the station house and started making dinner—chicken fingers, Grogu’s favorite. After some hesitation, he threw some frozen fish sticks on the baking tray as well. Maybe Luke would eat them. Din hadn’t gone fishing in a few weeks; Grogu had had him working their way through a craft book Cara had brought them at the last supply drop, which didn’t leave a lot of time for much beyond his daily duties, time consuming as they were. If Luke wanted fresh fish, Din could go fishing tomorrow.

He stacked up three plates on his arms and brought them into the bathroom. Not a large bathroom to begin with, it was a crowded space between the adult, the kid, and the mermaid. Setting his own on the white marbled sink countertop, he handed a plate of chicken fingers and broccoli to Grogu and a plate of fish sticks to Luke.

“It’s fish,” he explained. “With breadcrumbs.” At Luke’s blank look, Din hastily explained, “Bread is, uh, it comes from grain, wheat, and so it’s kind of…like…well, it’s a carbohydrate. I dunno if you have those in…the ocean. Try it, and tell me if you can eat it, or if you need something else.” He sorted through Grogu’s communication boards scattered on the tile floor, and found one with ocean creatures, which he set on the rim of the bathtub.

Grogu turned his nose up at the broccoli with a huff.

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta have vegetables.” Din was too tired to really argue the point tonight, but Grogu didn’t need to know that.

Luke reached one dripping hand out of the tub and pointed to the broccoli on Grogu’s plate, with an encouraging sort of Go on expression, nodding. The broccoli got a little damp at the touch of his pale finger. Din grimaced, sure that the salt water would ruin whatever little chance there was of getting the kid to eat his vegetables.

Grogu surprised him by digging in.

Din blinked.

Alright then. He’d keep slightly soggy in mind, on his list of ‘things that get Grogu to eat.’ Kids were mysterious creatures sometimes.

Din ate his own plate of chicken fingers and broccoli sitting on the closed toilet seat, watching the two of them interact. It was, of course, mostly silent, occasionally interspersed with one of Grogu’s noises like “ba!” Luke picked at his fishsticks (after scraping off the breading), Grogu picked at his chicken fingers. Their hands were pretty occupied with the boards. At this angle, he couldn’t see all that they pointed to, but he saw the fairytale board, ocean, and mythology. And home.

.

.

.

After they finished eating, Din cleared the plates, and let Grogu and Luke talk for another hour while he cleaned up and checked the weather again.

“Alright kid, bedtime.”

“Ba!” Grogu said angrily, his little face scrunched up. Din’s heart melted in spite of himself. 

“No, come on, it’s time for bed.”

Luke waved his hand for Grogu’s attention. Once he had it, he exaggeratedly stretched and yawned, then put his hands together and leaned his head against them, breathing big in, and out. If he was underwater, Din was sure that there would be enormous bubbles coming out of his mouth, adding to the effect.

Grogu giggled. Luke peeked with one eye and smiled, then went right back to it.

Din gathered up all the communication boards and knocked them up on the counter, making them into a neat stack. He grabbed Grogu’s hand.

“Come on, I’ll sing to you.”

Luke broke out of his acting and waved goodbye, flapping his hand.

“I’ll check on you before I go to bed,” Din promised over his shoulder. He left the door open a crack, so that Luke could hear them move around and know that he hadn’t been left in the house alone.

Luckily Grogu’s room had a bathroom attached to it, so he could still have a quick bath—the salt water he and Luke had been splashing in all evening didn’t count—and brush his teeth before bed. Din brushed his teeth beside Grogu, glad for once that he still kept his toothbrush on his nightstand instead of in the main bathroom, an old habit from more chaotic days.

Finally, Din got Grogu clean, dry, in pajamas, and tucked into bed with his favorite frog plushie.

Din knelt beside his bed with a groan, cursing old injuries and unstretched muscles. “Alright, kid, what do you want me to sing?”

Grogu made grabby hands for his device. Din pulled it off the charger and handed it over. Grogu navigated through the pages swiftly, before finally selecting, “Sun.”

“Alright.” Din cleared his throat, and began to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me hap-py, when skies are gray.”

Grogu snuggled down in his blankets, clutching his favorite Froggie close to his chest, watching Din with absolute love and trust in his eyes. It made Din’s heart clench. Stars, he loved this kid. He would move heaven and earth for him. He had, when he’d rescued him. Although really, it was Din that had been rescued that day.

He reached a hand out and caressed the soft brown hair atop Grogu’s head. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take, my sun-shine a-way.” He kissed his son’s forehead. “You all ready for sleep, big guy?”

Grogu squealed softly.

“Alright.” Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s one last time as he took his device and set it on the bedside table, and turned out the light. “If you need anything, just yell.”

He closed the door softly, leaving just a crack to let light through.

Luke was waiting in the bathroom, arms folded on the rim of the bathtub, his head resting on top. He perked up when Din came in, but not much.

“How’s your, uh, oxygen?”

Luke gave a thumbs up.

“Tired?”

Luke nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” His muscles were certainly sore from lugging all that water and the merperson. He needed to work out more, probably. As busy as this job kept him, it didn’t maintain his physical fitness the way he used to. He’d let himself get…soft, as Grogu’s dad.

“You good for the night? Need any fresh water?”

Luke shook his head. Thankfully. Din didn’t particularly want to go out in the pitch dark. It would be hard to hold a flashlight and a full bucket at the same time.

“Can you write?” At Luke’s nod, Din took out a weather resistant notepad and pen and set them on the rim of the bathtub beside Luke’s head. “We’re expecting a supply run in a day or so. If you need anything, or want anything, I can radio shore and have it delivered then.”

The merman perked up. Thank you!!! he wrote, with three exclamation marks. Din huffed a laugh.

Luke wrote, head bowed, for a while. Din watched his golden hair, long dried except around his…gills, bounce softly, reflecting the overhead light. It was mesmerizing, like watching light bounce off of water.

When Luke held up the notepad again, Din had to shake himself a little to refocus.

Salmon

Oysters

Something soft to lay on the side

Something I can help you with, as payment for taking me in

Din blinked. “I don’t need you to help me with anything.”

Luke’s gaze was pleading. No: Begging.

Din shook his head. “Really. Most of my job you can’t help me with anyway; unless you can repaint the lighthouse or pull weeds.”

Luke frowned, his lip stuck out. Din couldn’t help having a little thrill at the sight. It was adorable.

“Really! I guess I could…” He really thought about it. He supposed…that the counter could use a little basket for his keys. One of Grogu’s favorites from the craft book was basket-weaving. He could show Luke how to do it, and thus keep them both occupied, and Luke could feel useful. “Do you know how to weave baskets?”

Luke nodded eagerly.

“I’ll collect some materials for you from the wildflower garden tomorrow. Grogu can help.” Din broke off with a yawn. “I’ll tell our supplier to get the rest of it. Sleep well.”

Luke pointed at Din and mimed sleeping, with his head on his hands, then nodded as if to say You too.

Din smiled and turned to go. He paused in the doorway with his hand on the light switch.

“On or off?”

Luke tilted his head, brow furrowed. To demonstrate, Din flicked the lights off, then back on. Then again, saying out loud which was which.

“Thumbs up, on. Thumbs down, off.” He showed how to do it as he spoke. Luke gave a thumbs down. “Lights off it is,” he said, turning them off. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

He left the door cracked open again and made his way up the stairs, stifling a yawn.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the bathroom was empty in the morning. Weirder things had happened.

Although, if he was honest with himself—no, weirder things hadn’t happened. Sure, he’d had some odd jobs in his old life, but none of it had involved the supernatural. No, it was all kingpins and businessmen and whistleblowers, hackers, grifters, thieves, and the occasional unopened suitcase. Once, on his last job, a child. Never a merman.

Well, this made two that he’d kept instead of killed. Two that he’d saved.

He’d definitely gone soft.

But he found…he didn't mind it.

[bitchin-beskar]

The Roommate Agreement - Chapter 1

Rating: Mature

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Ok, so this chapter has no smut, as we're setting up the story here. However, this is the first chapter in a multi chapter story in which the MAIN THEME is free use, so there will be a LOT of smut. If you're not 18+, dnr/dni. REMINDER: IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT FREE USE MEANS, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS FIC. LEAVE AT ONCE. I will say, for this chapter, we do have a male character (not paz) physically abusing the reader, although it is very brief, it could potentially be triggering. Please be aware of this when reading. Other than that, this chapter is relatively tame, but it will ramp up soon.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Oof, ok so I've been meaning to get this posted for awhile, but I've decided to share it tonight especially because I feel like we all deserve a treat after the latest Mandalorian episode drop. So this is for @maybege, @catsnkooks, @tailorvizsla, and anyone else who was personally victimized by the choices made by Filoni and Favreau in the latest episode of the Mandalorian. Have some lovely hurt/comfort and fluff babes, I hope this helps ❤️

You stare down at your phone, more than a little frustrated. Parjai had said he didn’t have any plans other than gaming with some friends online, so there should be no reason for not picking up the phone. But after over ten increasingly urgent text messages and numerous unanswered phone calls and voicemails over the last hour, you have to conceed that he just isn’t going to answer. You look around the party despondently.

Honestly, you hadn’t even really wanted to come, but Mir’a had drug you out, saying that you needed a night out to loosen up a bit. Then she’d gone off and gotten massively drunk, and ended up going home with her on-again-off-again partner, so you were now stuck at a party you didn’t want to be at, where you knew no one, you had no ride home, and your boyfriend wasn’t answering the phone.

Just as you were starting to debate the likelyhood of being able to catch a taxi or Uber this late at night, your phone buzz. You glanced at it, half expecting to see a sheepish text from Parjai, but instead lighting up your phone was a notification from Paz. A little unconscious smile crossed your lips, and you leaned back against the wall, bringing your phone up to see it better as you swiped at the screen to open up your text thread with him.

Instead of a message, he’d sent you a selfie, and you could tell from the photo that he was in his truck, likely just having left a late night practice with the Mudhorns–the hockey team he was the goalie for. His hair looked wet, like he’d just hopped out of the shower, and you could see an old Mythosaurs logo on his teeshirt, the team he’d grown up idolizing. He had an adorably crooked grin on his face, and it was easy to see how he managed to charm damn near everyone he met.

While you were looking at the selfie, a message from him popped up on your screen.

Hey, still awake?

You bit your lip, suddenly thoughtful. If you were remembering right, the hockey rink wasn’t too far from here. Maybe…

Before you could second guess yourself, you tapped on his profile picture and then his phone number, putting your phone up to your ear as you began to move through the throng of bodies towards the outside. The butterflies barely had time to take flight in your belly when Paz’s deep voice was coming through your phone’s speaker and directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“What’s this, a proof of life call?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said loudly, almost shouting to be heard over the music. “I actually was wondering if you could do me a huuuuuge favor?”

“Is that favor rescuing you from the angry mob you sound like you’ve accidentally joined?”

Your voice was drier than the deserts of Tatooine. “Truly Paz, you’ve missed your calling as a comedian by joining the hockey team. You should be doing stand-up.”

His loud, deep laugh sounded on the other end, and you couldn’t help but smile again. Gods, you’d missed his laugh. You’d missed him.

“I belong on that rink and we both know it.” You snorted at the cocky tone of his voice. “Nah, you know I’d do anything for you. What’cha need rabbit?”

You groaned. “Please, not that stupid nickname again. I had like… one stuffed animal as a kid and suddenly everyone calls me that.”

“You brought the damn thing in the bath with you, what did you think was gonna happen?”

You narrowed your eyes, wishing that somehow Paz could feel your glare through the phone. “Anyways,” you growled, ignoring his chuckles. “I was at a party except my ride left with someone else and now I’m stuck. Is there any way you could give me a ride back to my apartment?”

“Of course,” Paz responded with zero hesitation. “Gimme the address.” As you rattled off the address of the house party, Paz sighed through the phone. “I recognize it. Some of the di’kute freshmen on the team have gotten wasted at parties there and I’ve had to come get them. I’ll be there in five.”

“Thanks, Paz.”

You could almost hear his smile on the other end. “Of course.”

You finished weaving your way through the crowds of drunk, high, and horny college students to step out on the front porch, breathing in a wave of fresh air. The night was clear, and it was only the early days of fall, so it wasn’t too cold yet. You looked up at the stars for a few moments, before you heard the familiar roar of an engine.

Looking down the street, you saw the headlights of Paz’s truck illuminating the otherwise quiet road, and you began making your way down the drive. He pulled to a stop in front of the house, waiting for you to cross in front of the truck and climb in the passenger side. You pulled yourself up and into his truck, buckling in before turning to see him grinning goofily at you.

“What?” You asked, feeling somewhat self-conscious but your cheeks still warming pleasantly under his gaze. “Do I have something on my face?”

His grin softened, and he reached out, almost subconsciously, and brushed the pads of his fingers over your cheek. “Nah,” he said, eyes still boring into yours. “Jus’ missed you, that’s all. It’s been awhile.”

You smiled back, soft too but a little self-deprecating. The both of you were well aware of just why it had been so long since you’d seen each other in person. Parjai was almost impossible to deal with whenever he simply heard Paz’s name, let alone if he knew you’d seen him or tried to hang out with him. It had seemed simpler at the time to distance yourself from Paz, something your parents and Parjai had encouraged, but now it just made you sad. At least he didn’t seem to hold it against you.

Paz sat back in his seat and re-started the engine, pulling away from the curb and beginning to drive down the darkened roads. You were a good few miles from your place with Parjai, and you couldn’t deny that you were excited to simply get to spend this little bit of time with him. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before you opened your mouth, wanting to make the most of seeing him and actually talk to him.

“How’s the team doing?”

He lit up, his grin huge and unrestrained. It triggered a grin of your own, always so happy to see Paz get excited about the sport he loved.

“They’re good! Din’s finally getting situated in left defence. He’s been working really hard at it, he’s a damn good defender, he just had some trouble believing it. Tua and Kua are a good pair too, they both made starter positions this year.”

You thought for a second. “The Skirata twins, right?”

“Yeah, that’s them. They’re assholes, but good players.”

You racked your brain trying to think of the other players you knew about on the team. With it being a new school year, there were some faces you didn’t quite know yet. “What about the other goalie position? Is Kye’ma still the secondary?”

Paz guwaffed loudly. “No! He got himself removed from the team ‘cause his grades were slipping too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Kye’ma Reau had been a vicious player, and while he was good at the sport, he was a little too bloodthirsty. He’d always been sore that Paz was the starting goalie and not him, and you were honestly starting to get a little worried about the possibility of him staging an “accident” for Paz, so you were glad he was no longer in the picture.

“Who replaced him?”

“Some freshman kid, Uliik Gedyc. Wouldn’t know it just by looking at him though. Kid’s built like a fucking tank.”

You snickered at the mental image. You remembered what Paz looked like as a freshman in college, and you wouldn’t exactly describe his physique at the time as ‘tank-like.’ Although, that wasn’t to say he hadn’t been fit. Paz had been fit since he’d discovered gyms around the same time as puberty, and the muscle mass only grew with every year.

Not that you’d noticed.

All too soon, you realized that you were turning onto your street. You slumped slightly in your seat, sad that your time with Paz was coming to an end. You resolved to try and fix that, and to attempt to spend more time with him. Granted it was senior year, and both of you were set to graduate, and he had the hockey team to think about too, but you were tired of shunning your best friend to keep your boyfriend happy.

As Paz pulled into the driveway of the place you shared with Parjai, you were surprised to see Parjai storming out the front door, his face twisted in fury. You quickly unbuckled and practically threw yourself out of the truck, not hearing Paz call after you, as you were worried something was wrong.

Before you could get any words out, Parjai reached you and gripped your arm tightly, causing you to cry out in shock and a little bit of pain.

“What the fuck are you doing with him?”

You blinked at the furious words being thrown in your face. “Him-you mean Paz? He gave me a ride home because you didn’t-”

“Don’t fucking blame me for you being a slut.” He growled, shaking you hard. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you? You’re not allowed to see him, not only is he a goddamn exile, but you’re mine, you hear me? I won’t be made a fool of by my girlfriend just whoring herself out to whoever fucking asks!”

You jerked away, ripping your arm from his grasp. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it turned your stomach, although not as much as the hateful words he spewed.

“I’m not fucking Paz, Parjai,” you said, not yelling but the anger still clear in your voice. “I’ve told you before, he’s just a friend. I’ve known him for years, there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to spend a little time with him! Besides, you weren’t answering! What was I supposed to do?”

“You fucking slut!”

Suddenly, blooming pain spread across your cheek, and you fell back in shock, your body colliding with the door of Paz’s truck and your head cracking against the glass from the force of what had been Parjai’s hand clocking you across the face.

You slowly raised a hand to your cheek, fingers shaking as they brushed the skin even as you winced from the pain. Tears filled your eyes and you turned your head back to look at your still-furious boyfriend. He was glaring hatefully at you, even though he was swaying on his feet, likely from the intoxication.

He opened his mouth, probably to spew more vitriol, when abruptly, faster than your brain was able to register, a fist shot out and punched Parjai square in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You blinked dumbly at your boyfriend-no, ex-boyfriend now, like hell were you gonna stay with that asshole-lying prone on the lawn, groaning in pain. Your brain felt like it was swimming through molasses, unable to process events in real time. As you were trying to put together what exactly just happened, suddenly Paz was standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands as frantic eyes roved over you.

You just stood there, watching as his mouth moved, but unable to hear anything over the rushing of blood in your ears. He let one hand fall to your shoulder while the other came up to gently prod at the swelling on your face of what was likely to be a nasty black eye. He shook your shoulder, his face growing more concerned when suddenly there was a popping noise and you could hear clearly again.

The abrupt silence startled you and you jumped slightly. Paz raised his hands quickly off your body, taking a half step back so he wasn’t right in your space, but your panicking mind decided that was the absolute worst possible outcome, so you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. The tentative grasp of control that you’d had simply shattered, and you began to sob brokenly into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Paz’s arms came up around you, one banding around your back while the other came up to cradle your head against his chest. You twisted your fingers in his sweatshirt, anchoring yourself to him as you only cried harder.

His chest rumbled underneath you, and you faintly registered that he was whispering soft words of endearment, trying his best to soothe you. You sniffled and burrowed deeper, almost like if you tried hard enough, you could climb inside his chest where it was safe and never leave.

You could feel his lips pressing against the top of your head, leaving gentle kisses in the breaks between his words. He held you like something precious, like something to be treasured, and you found yourself never wanting to leave his embrace.

Unfortunately, Paz seemed to have different plans. He slowly pulled you away from where you’d been buried in his sweatshirt, although he kept his arms secure around you. He tilted your head up with a crooked finger under your chin, his gaze suddenly very serious.

“You’re not staying here, sweetheart. Get in the truck. I’m gonna run in and grab you a few things, and then we’re leaving.”

You blinked up at him, lashes clumped together with tears. You were sure you likely looked a mess, but all you could focus on was Paz’s arm around you and his fingers brushing your jaw. He sighed softly, seemingly realizing that you were not in a good frame of mind to be doing any critical thinking. He opened up the passenger door and bodily lifted you up, ignoring your quiet squeak of surprise as he set you in the passenger seat.

“Get buckled, I’m just gonna grab some of your things. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before letting his own forehead gently touch yours in the sweetest mirshmure’cya you’d ever recieved, bringing new tears to your eyes. He stepped back and shut the door, before quickly stepping over Parjai and walking into the house. You buckled in a daze, still reeling from how quickly things had changed. One second you’d been happily chatting with Paz about his hockey team, the next your boyfriend was punching you in the face.

You pulled down the visor on the passenger side and flipped open the mirror, wincing at your reflection. Already there was the starting of some swelling around your eye, and you could tell it was going to bruise. It was throbbing and aching, and you poked at the skin cautiously, nose scrunching up at the uncomfortable sensation. You were going to end up with a black eye for sure.

You see Paz coming back out of the front door, a duffle bag you recognize from your closet in hand, stuffed full of whatever Paz had deemed important enough for him to grab. He deftly stepped over Parjai, who was still lying on the ground, rolling around in pain as he clutched at his jaw. Paz didn’t even spare him a glance, instead quickly making his way to the driver’s side of the truck. He jerked open the door and climbed in, reaching back to set the duffle down on the floor behind his seat.

He buckled, and looked over at you, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he took in the darkening bruise over your eye and the dried tear tracks on your face. He looked like he wanted to reach out to touch you, but restrained himself.

“Are you buckled, sweetheart?” You simply nodded, the lump in your throat too large to speak around. “Good. Let’s go home.”

You didn’t say anything, but you could tell Paz wasn’t really looking for a response either. He backed out of the driveway, probably a little faster than he should’ve, but it was late at night and it wasn’t like it was likely for anyone to be out for him to run into.

As he drove down the dark streets, navigating towards his apartment by memory, you looked out the window, eyes not really focusing on any one thing as the scenery flew by. You felt almost like you were having an out of body experience, like your limbs were too heavy for you to move on your own. Truly, you were about one step away from a complete breakdown. You didn’t realize you were twisting your hands in your lap until one of Paz’s hands settled on top of both of yours, stilling the anxious movement. You looked over, to see him still focused on the road, but a worried frown decorating his face. Turning one of your hands over, you pressed your palm against Paz’s, linking your fingers together and letting his touch ground you.

It wasn’t a long drive to Paz’s place, and soon enough, he was pulling up in front of his building. He didn’t waste time, shutting off his truck and sliding his hand out of yours so he could hop out. You began to undo your buckle, but before you could open the door, Paz was already there, ready to help you out of the truck. The concerned look on his face broke something inside you, and you felt tears begin to fill your eyes again.

Paz didn’t hesitate to pull you out of the truck and into his arms, your duffel already slung over his shoulder so both of his arms were free to hold you. You clung to him clumsily, throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist as one of his arms wrapped around your torso to hold you tightly against him. Burying your face in his neck, you let the tears fall, trusting Paz to get you inside safely.

He didn’t say anything as he carried you into his apartment, and you didn’t look up from the safety of his neck until he was setting you down on a soft mattress. You looked around, slightly dazed as you realized you were in his bedroom. You’d seen glimpses of the space through pictures he’d sent you, but you’d never actually been in his bedroom.

A careful hand on your jaw caught your attention, and Paz gently lifted your head, turning it from side to side as he studied the swelling and darkening skin around your eye. His thumb brushed your cheek as his eyes found yours. “Lemme go grab something for you to ice that shiner with, ok?” You nodded, watching as he left the bedroom, moving down to where you were pretty sure his kitchen was.

While he was gone, you took a moment to take in his bedroom, the one place that was purely, personally, Paz. There weren’t a whole lot of decorations, but you weren’t expecting there to be. Paz had always been rather minimalistic by nature. He had some trophies and framed awards from various hockey leagues and games he’d won, some assorted sports paraphernalia in the corner by his closet, a soft grey rug underneath the king-sized bed which was adorned with soft white sheets and a light grey duvet, two nightstands with matching lamps, and on the far wall was a collage of pictures. As you looked at them, you realized most of them were pictures of the two of you. Some were clearly from when you were kids, but some were obviously more recent, although you realized with a pang that none of the photos were more recent than four years ago, around when you’d started to distance yourself because of Parjai.

It hit you then just how much of an idiot you’d been. You’d wasted so much time with someone who clearly didn’t trust or love you in the same way you’d loved him, especially considering how he’d acted tonight. You hadn’t realized Parjai’s insecurities ran quite that deep, but looking back it was painfully clear just how much he’d hated Paz Vizsla.

You were pulled from your self-deprecating thoughts by Paz returning, an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel clutched tightly in one hand. His eyes met yours, and some of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seemed to melt away as he reassured himself seeing that you were safe. He came forward to kneel at the side of the bed where you were perched. With gentle hands, he pressed the ice pack over the swelling on your face, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw as you tried to shy away from the sudden shock of cold.

“Gotta let the ice do it’s job, rabbit,” he murmured. “We’ve gotta get that swelling down.”

You winced, but nonetheless held still, letting Paz do his thing. Maker only knows how many, many bumps, bruises, broken bones and black eyes he’d suffered over the years, not just from hockey but his uncanny ability to always get into fights. You’d even helped him with some of the more painful injuries.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Your eyes had fluttered shut, just basking in the soft attention and careful ministrations Paz was bestowing upon you. Paz kept one hand on the ice pack pressed gently over your eye, the other still cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheekbone. After awhile, Paz slowly took the ice pack away, and you opened your eyes to see him critically looking over your face. He seemed to be satisfied with the state of your face where Parjai had smacked you, and he sat back slightly on his heels.

“How does that feel, hmm?”

“Better.”

Silence descended again, but this time there was a tension floating in the air. It felt like Paz was just waiting for something to happen, but you didn’t know what he’d be waiting for. You were fine, absolutely fine. Sure, your partner of over three years had just assaulted you out of the blue, but honestly, you were-

“Rabbit?”

The sound of Paz’s voice, thick with worry and concern and love is what broke the dam. Your eyes filled with tears, and your breath hitched as you fought to not burst into sobs. You met Paz’s gaze, and you saw nothing but love and understanding.

“Oh, c’mere love,” he murmured, his hands gently tugging you off the bed and into his lap. That was the last straw, and you began to sob, deep and heartbroken sounds wrenching their way out of your throat as you clawed at his back, as though you could somehow pull him even closer to you. “That’s it, let it all out.”

“W-W-Why, Paz?” you cried, voice trembling as you tried to force the words out. “I-I loved him… w-why wou-would he–?” You couldn’t finish your sentence, your voice breaking as you sobbed harder. Paz’s arms were tight around you, holding you securely against his chest. His lips were pressed to your head, and the rumbling in his chest told you he was attempting to make soothing noises although you were unable to actually hear them over the sounds of your cries.

As your sobs began to slow you clutched tighter to Paz, suddenly afraid that he’d let you go now that you weren’t crying your eyes out. But to your great relief, he didn’t, merely sliding his arms more securely around you and pressing you closer against his chest.

“What am I gonna do?” You said, voice barely more than a whisper pressed against the fabric of his shirt. Even as you said the words, you didn’t really fully realize what they meant until they’d left your mouth. You pulled your head back to look at Paz with wide, teary eyes. “T-That’s my home, Paz, but he’s not gonna leave, I know he isn’t, and it’s not like my parents are gonna be any help cause they love him and are just gonna say I’m making this up for attention and-”

“Breathe.”

The order startled you out of the sprial you’d begun to descend into, and you locked eyes with Paz, mouth snapping shut at the commanding tone of his voice.

“I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do, rabbit. You’re gonna stay right here, with me. There’ll be a blizzard on Tatooine before I let you go back to that hut’uun di’kut. He doesn’t deserve you, and I refuse to let you delude yourself into thinking that any of the actions he took tonight are in any way acceptable.”

His stare was piercing, and you found yourself unable to look away, even as you listened to what he was saying. You opened your mouth, about to insist that you couldn’t just intrude on Paz and his home like that, but a finger pressed to your lips stopped you.

“Uh uh, I’m not finished.” Paz waited for you to acknowledge his words before he continued. “I’ve got more than enough space, and I don’t want him or your family trying to manipulate you into going back to him. You deserve better, so much better, than that.”

Tears began to fill your eyes, but for far different reasons this time. Paz wasn’t the kind of person to say things like this openly, not the type to blatantly lay his feelings out for all to see, but he was doing it for you.

“Y-You’ll really do that, Paz?” You asked, trying and mostly succeeding to prevent your voice from shaking. “You’ll let me stay?” Some emotion you didn’t recognize passed over his face, but it was quickly gone before you had a chance to analyze it.

“Course I will,” he said softly, voice quiet but no less steady. “You’ve always had a place with me, and you always will.”

Another tear trailed down your cheek. The words that escaped your mouth weren’t something you’d been intending to say, but that didn’t make them any less true.

“Love you, Paz.”

Paz’s eyelashes fluttered, his face going slack for a moment before he was able to focus on you again. “Oh, bunny,” he muttered, drawing you close again even as a shiver ran down your spine at the unexpected variation on his nickname foe you. He was tucking your face back into his neck as his hand stroked soothingly up and down his back. “My sweet bunny rabbit, I love you too. You’ll always have a place with me, no matter what.”

In that moment, in Paz’s arms on the floor of his guest bedroom, you knew things were gonna be alright.

[bladesofkyber]

[dindjarindiaries]

No thoughts, just the texts I sent my dad during the season 1 era as I fell in love with The Mandalorian

[brown-eyes-and-beskar]

Discovery: Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Description: When the Mandalorian breaks into the Imperial safehouse to take back the Child he hunted down, he finds an unexpected ally in you, an Imperial bioengineer who has been protecting the Child and waiting for a chance to escape.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

Author’s Note: This fic parallels with “Chapter 3: The Sin” and is mostly canon-consistent. This is chapter 1 of what I plan to turn into an extended series, so stay tuned if you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

The moment you hear the first crash in the hallway, you know you’re in trouble.

Someone is here to take the baby.

You fly into action instantly – flipping switches, casting aside holoscreens, shoving blankets into a floating pram stamped with an Imperial insignia. The outer medical room door snaps shut, and the second inner door follows it as your hand slams down on the switch. You spare a glance over your shoulder when you hear yet another crash, this one just outside the door, and your movements become even more harried.

A series of loud noises and flashes emit from the tightly-sealed door, but you ignore them as you rush forward to scoop the baby into the pram. He’s still sleeping soundly, you notice gratefully.

If I can just get him into the pram and out the escape hatch, maybe he’ll have a chance—

The next impact on the door shakes the entire room, and you crouch behind the child’s exam table, hands over your ears. Everything in your brain is screaming to grab the baby and run, but run where? Where is safe? Who is attacking? What—

Your question is answered moments later, as the two insta-seal doors fly open, sparks flurrying in the pitch black doorway.

The man standing in the doorway is the most terrifying sight you’ve ever seen. And you’re no stranger to terror.

All you can see is his silhouette, tiny fiery flashes cascading around him. His blaster is held aloft in his right hand, his left jutting forward in a fist, as if he were scanning the room with a beam. He tarries in the doorway just long enough to check the room for danger, and seeing none, he steps inside.

From your position crouched on the floor, you fight the urge to suck in a loud breath as he steps far enough into the dim light for you to get a good look at him. A Mandalorian. The Mandalorian, you’re sure. The bounty hunter who brought the child here. The one who sold the child to buy the priceless armor now glinting on his chest and arms. The one they call ruthless, a cold-blooded killer, the best in his profession.

He takes one cautious step forward, his helmet turning in every direction to scope out any danger. The sight of him, totally covered in armor, his face concealed, weapon at the ready, unnerves you. A chill runs down your spine as he takes another step forward, closer to the child. And to you.

You weigh your options in a split second. He’s armed, and twice your size. You have no weapons and no way to escape. He’s bound to spot you if he takes another step forward, and you’d rather have the element of surprise when you make your last stand.

You spare a glance up at the child, still sleeping peacefully under a canopy of digital holoscreens, blinking red and blue data of his vital signs. Your life doesn’t matter anymore, you remind yourself, only the child’s. That’s a vow you made a long time ago.

Before you can rethink your decision, you leap to your feet, grabbing the nearest clipboard within reach and hurling it with all your might at the Mandalorian. He barely has time to react before the heavy board smashes into his helmet, knocking him back a step. You seize the opportunity and throw yourself forward, in front of the child’s exam table, between the child and danger.

The Mandalorian takes a mere fraction of a second to recover from the blow of the clipboard, clearing the distance between you in two rapid steps. His gaze takes in your pristine medical uniform, the Imperial insignia on your left shoulder. A grappling hook ending in a thin cord shoots out from one of his vambraces, wrapping around your body and pinning your arms to your sides. You’re too shocked to cry out, too stunned to move.

He takes one step closer to you, and you feel a small surge of pride at the dark mark the clipboard has left on his helmet, on the forehead and between the eyes. Your pride is quickly eclipsed by fear when you look deep into the black space where his eyes should be. You see nothing but a helmet, a killing machine, a faceless murderer who is about to make you his next victim. You steel yourself to keep your eyes trained on him.

“What have you done to him?” the Mandalorian demands. His voice is deep, almost a growl.

You take only a moment to find your voice. “Please don’t hurt him,” you say softly, trying to convey some emotion to him. “He’s just a child. Please, just leave him alone.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer, just leans to the side to peer over your shoulder at the sleeping child. His helmet tilts to the side, a gesture that reminds you he’s human. “He’s still alive.”

“Of course,” you reply, feeling panic rise into your lungs. An idea glimmers in your mind, a slim chance for you and the child. You add quickly, “I’ve been keeping him alive. If it weren’t for me, he would already be dead.”

The Mandalorian’s gaze doesn’t turn from the child, but he suddenly seems less murderous, more intent on looking at the child. A brief curiosity enters your mind, a question of why, but you can’t dwell on it.

“Please don’t hurt him,” you beg again. You don’t even care if your voice sounds pathetic – it’s the child whose life you’re begging for. “He’s only a child. You have your reward. What could you possibly want with him?”

This time, the Mandalorian’s gaze pulls away from the child, locks on your face. You struggle to keep your chin high, trying not to tremble as this powerful man looks deep into your soul with eyes that you cannot see.

He doesn’t answer your question. “I’m taking him,” he says simply.

“No!” you cry out, emotion bubbling to the surface again. “Please, don’t!”

He ignores you, leaning forward to sweep a blanket out of the pile that you created in the floating pram. He can only use one arm, the other holding you in place with his grappling hook. His motions are oddly gentle as he drapes the blanket over the sleeping child and lifts him with one hand, cradling him in the crook of his arm.

You fix your eyes on the child, still fast asleep amid the chaos. His tiny hands twitch, his ears shift gently, and his enormous closed eyes flutter. Your heart clenches in your chest. One thought blazes in your mind, a desperate and wild thought, a thought that you shouldn’t even entertain. A thought that suddenly seems wholly irresistible.

The Mandalorian is retracting the grappling hook, letting it fly back into the compartment of his vambrace, when you burst out, “Then take me with you.”

The strange man stops, one arm cradling the child and the other brandishing his blaster between you. You notice his quick intake of breath, and you know you have his attention. With your arms now free, you lift your hands placatingly toward the Mandalorian.

“Take me with you,” you repeat, more ardently this time. “Someone will need to look after the child, and you can sell me for just as high a price as you can sell him. I’m an Imperial bioengineer; I’ll be highly valuable to you. Just don’t separate me from him. Whatever you do with him, just let me stay with him.”

You have no way to read the Mandalorian’s facial expression, but you can feel the surprise radiating off him. “I’m not going to sell him,” he says tightly.

“What are you going to do with him, then?” you demand, proud to hear boldness in your voice.

“I’m taking him somewhere safe. Go back to your experiments and don’t worry about him.”

Another shock. Somewhere safe? Surely he’s not serious.

You play along with his lie. “If you want to save him, then you must care about him. The child has been drugged very heavily. If he doesn’t get proper medical attention, he could die. Take me with you, and I’ll care for him.”

“Liar,” the Mandalorian spits. The insult doesn’t hurt you.

“I will,” you vow. “I’d give my life for the child. You must be willing to do the same if you’ve come this far.”

You don’t know if that’s true, but your statement is enough to make the Mandalorian hesitate, halfway to the door with the child tucked into his side. You can feel the indecision wavering between you, pulling on him like strings. So there’s something more to him, you observe absently.

A crash echoes somewhere down the long corridor, and he suddenly shakes his head. Your heart plummets. “No,” he says simply, walking backwards to the door and planning a quick exit.

For the rest of your life, you will wonder why you did what you did at that moment, but your body reacts before your mind can catch up. You leap forward, surprising the Mandalorian so that he swivels in your direction, pointing his blaster straight at your heart. He doesn’t fire.

All you know in that moment is that you would rather die at this moment than be left behind when this man escapes with the child.

You hold your hands up, stopping an arm’s length away from where the Mandalorian wavers in the doorway, blaster still trained on you. “Please,” you whisper, desperation tinging your voice. “Don’t leave me here.”

Something in your eyes makes him hesitate. The Mandalorian pauses, his chest rising and falling steadily. The child stirs in his arms. Time seems to stand still as the Mandalorian’s invisible gaze bores into yours with an intensity that would melt the sun.

Several sets of footsteps pound down the hallway toward you, and the Mandalorian’s choice is made in a split second.

“Come on,” he whispers harshly, grabbing your forearm and pulling you with him.

You wrench your arm out of his grasp for a moment and dash back into the room, just long enough to grab a black leather bag from the counter top. The Mandalorian shouts something at you, but it’s drowned out by the sound of blaster shots from the hallway.

The Mandalorian makes quick work of whichever Stormtroopers had been tromping down the hall – probably Hound and Jett, you think – and motions for you to follow him as he steps into the hallway, moving his blaster in each direction before continuing. You trail him closely, staying at his heels.

Your heart is flying as you follow the Mandalorian – and the child – through the twisting maze of the compound. I’m going to be free, you realize. If I can make it out of this alive, I’m going to be free for the first time in 15 years.

You bite back a grin at that thought, remembering that you’re still in dire straits. The Mandalorian starts to dash down a side door marked in red letters, but you reach out and grab his cape to hold him back.

“That way leads to the Stormtrooper bunks,” you explain in a hushed voice. The Mandalorian hesitates, clearly not sure if he can trust you, but you don’t give him time to argue. You tug on his cape and start jogging down an opposite corridor. He pulls his cape out of your grasp, but you’re glad when you realize he’s following you. Trusting you.

You’ve made it down three hallways – just two more and you’re free – when you hear a door slam and footsteps pounding toward you. You whirl around to warn the Mandalorian, but he’s already in motion, clearly a step ahead of you somehow.

He shoves you behind him and thrusts the child into your arms. You stagger back, trying to arrange the child so he won’t fall out of your grasp but will be shielded from any stray blaster bolts. The Mandalorian is in full combat mode now, remaining in front of you as a shield and firing shot after shot at the hapless Stormtroopers who step into the line of fire.

You don’t realize you’ve buried your head over the child’s tiny form until you feel a sharp tug on your arm. “Let’s go,” he says sharply, all but dragging you behind him toward the final hallway. You can see the dim evening light through the slats around the door, and your heart pounds in anticipation.

“Hold it right there!” Another voice cuts into your hopeful thoughts. Voices behind you, ahead, on both sides. You’re surrounded.

You instinctively clutch the child closer to your chest, burrowing him deeper into the blanket. You’re glad he’s drugged into a deep sleep in that moment – no matter what happens, he’ll be spared having to witness a massacre.

The Mandalorian lowers his blaster slowly, clearly aware that he’s outnumbered and outgunned. You’re glad he doesn’t put up a fight and endanger the child’s life. Maybe he was sincere about the kid’s safety after all.

“Hold your fire,” the Mandalorian commands, his modulated voice filling the dank hallway. “What we’re holding is very precious. Step aside and let us pass, and I’ll let you live.”

You swallow a cringe at his words. Lousy shots or not, five Stormtroopers aren’t going to be annihilated by one man with a blaster. All you can hope is that the troopers will have enough sense to leave the child unharmed.

As the Mandalorian crouches on the ground, still lowering his blaster but not letting it go, another voice, this one to your left, calls out. “Doc?”

One of the Stormtroopers is speaking to you. His helmet is cocked to the side, his blaster tilted at the ground as he studies you in disbelief.

Lightning fast, your mind breaks your situation down. If you tell the Stormtroopers that the Mandalorian kidnapped you and the child, they will believe it in a heartbeat. You’re one of the top bioengineers in the compound – of course they’ll believe you. One word, and you’ll be away from gunpoint and back where you started.

Before that thought is even fully formed, you know you’re not going to lie about being kidnapped. You’ve already made your choice, and that choice has led you to abandon the Empire and follow this mysterious Mandalorian, wherever that may lead you.

You look the Stormtrooper dead in the face, holding your chin high in defiance, when the screeching sound of metal on metal fills your ears.

The flashes of light whiz through the dark air of the hallway like fireflies. Each flash twirls in a little loop before slamming full-force against the Stormtroopers – one, two, three, four, five knocked out cold on the floor.

You still have no idea what’s just happened when the Mandalorian pushes himself off the floor, grabs your wrist, and drags you along behind him into the final hallway. Your hands are trembling when he lets go of you, and you clutch the child tightly to shield him from any possible danger.

The Mandalorian tests the hallway blaster-first, then eases his way into the open space, motioning for you to follow. By the time you reach the door – or what used to be the door – the Mandalorian has gained some speed and is sprinting through the gaping hole in the front wall. His handiwork, no doubt.

You adjust the leather bag you’ve slung over your shoulder and pause just outside the doorway. Thick, smoky air fills your lungs, but you’re suddenly more grateful to be in the open air than you’ve ever been in your life. This is your first breath of a new life.

“Where are you going?” you whisper loud enough for the Mandalorian to hear. He’s halfway up the stone staircase leading to the market square, but he turns around at your question.

“My ship,” he says, motioning with his blaster toward the darkened square. “It’s just up ahead.”

You shake your head. “The square will be crawling with Imps and Guild members in minutes. Believe me.”

The Mandalorian looks up at the square, as if he will suddenly see what you’re talking about. His gaze falls back to you, and you see the frustrated tightening in his shoulders. “There’s no other way out of here.”

“I know a back road that’ll lead us straight to your ship,” you insist. You’ve been there a thousand times walking back to your apartment at night. “I assume it’s in the docking area?”

He nods hastily but still hesitates. “This is the only way. We’ll just have to fight our way through.”

“No!” you insist again. Why won’t he just listen to you? “It’s too dangerous. The child might be hurt!”

Another hesitation. You’re already beginning to recognize the Mandalorian’s body language for indecision. He tosses one last glance up at the square, then trains his glare back on you. “Fine. Lead the way. I’ll cover you from behind.”

“Fair enough,” you agree, and he falls into line behind you.

“Wait.” He stops you with his free hand around your elbow. “Give me the kid.”

You hope your facial expression conveys your revulsion at the idea. “No. No way.”

“Insurance,” he says simply. “That way I know you’re leading us the right way.”

You understand his logic, you really do. It’s the exact same reasoning you have. It’s the exact reason you don’t want to let go of the child, not into the hands of this trained mercenary who you’ve just witnessed kill at least seven people.

He killed those seven people for the child, says a voice in your head. And for you.

“Fine,” you snap, knowing it’s the only way you’ll get out in time. More guards and hunters will be pouring into the courtyard at any second. You carefully transfer the sleeping child into the Mandalorian’s free arm, fixing the hunter with a warning stare before nodding in the direction of the path.

You make quick work of the shortcut, cutting behind several darkened buildings and one very bright cantina before ducking into a damp tunnel. You check behind you to make sure the Mandalorian is still behind you, and you’re surprised at how closely he’s trailing you, no more than an arm’s length away every time you look. He looks down at the baby every few steps, truly seeming concerned.

You don’t let your thoughts dwell on this strange man or your strange circumstances. All you can think about is getting to freedom and away from the Empire. You’ve been waiting for this chance for years – you’ll sort out the rest later.

The tunnel opens up a few hundred yards later, and you step into the moonlight that dances over thick sand and rugged cliffsides. The Mandalorian is a step behind you, and you can sense his confusion before he speaks.

“It’s just up ahead,” you inform him. “The docking area is built into the side of this cliff. If we just walk around it, your ship should be dead ahead.”

The Mandalorian gives no sign of belief or disbelief, just adjusts the blanket around the child’s shoulders and nods for you to lead the way.

You make it around the cliffside without incident, and when you round the corner, a large silver ship immediately comes into view. A Razor Crest, you realize, and a pretty decent one. You swallow the surge of relief at making the escape safely, reminding yourself that you’re not out of Nevarro yet.

The Mandalorian presses a few buttons on his vambrace, and the ship lights up immediately. You scurry forward, glancing every direction to make sure you’re not being followed.

You’re almost to the boarding ramp of the ship when you hear the first shot fired. It comes from the direction of the town, and you cast a terrified glance at the Mandalorian as you realize that you’ve been discovered. He doesn’t seem concerned, if you’re reading him correctly.

He hands the child over to you again, quickly and without hesitation this time. “Get onboard,” he tells you. “Start the ship’s power and prepare it for takeoff. There’s a lever on the control panel.”

More shots from the town, including one that shatters a piece of cliffside near your head.

You duck down, wrapping your arms tight around the child. “Why aren’t you coming?” you demand. The thought of trying to get out of Nevarro without the Mandalorian is terrifying.

“I’ll be covering you.” He fires a shot into the haze of the town, positioning himself in front of you. “Just go! I’ll get onboard as you take off.”

Everything in your brain is screaming that this is a bad idea, but you know there’s no other option. You nod to show your understanding, then start running as fast as you can toward the ship’s boarding ramp. A blaster bolt narrowly misses your right foot, but you grit your teeth and keep running, running, running, until you’re onboard.

You’ve never been on a Razor Crest, but the layout is simple enough. You dash into the cockpit at top speed, laying the child down into the passenger seat as gently as possible, then throw yourself into the pilot’s chair to search for the ignition. You flick a silver toggle switch that looks like the ignition, and your guess is answered by a flaring of the engines and an explosion of bright lights throughout the walls of the cockpit. Lucky guess.

You crane your neck to see out the front window of the ship, and you can barely catch a glimpse of the Mandalorian, still firing shots into the murky crowd that is rushing from the city. Bounty hunters, you realize. His own kind. You bite back a sneer.

“Hurry up,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than the Mandalorian. Your hands flutter over the controls, searching for the takeoff lever. You select the largest one, and you know at once that it’s the correct one as the ship starts whirring, the landing gear retracting, and the flight panels extending. Another lucky guess.

You chance another look out the window at the action below, and you clamp one hand over your mouth as an especially strong blaster bolt catches the Mandalorian square in the chest. He falls backward, not unconscious but clearly dazed. Assured that you’ve prepped the ship for flight, you strap the child into his seat hastily and dash back to the landing ramp.

The Mandalorian is desperately trying to claw his way up the ramp when you appear at the top, and you don’t have to see his face to know that he’s panicked. He waves his hand furiously at you – get out of the line of fire! – but you stay where you are, holding the ramp button down so he can get aboard the ship safely.

He’s just managed to get to the top of the ramp, so close to you that his armor scrapes against your calf, when a man steps forward from the crowd. The group of bounty hunters is still firing random shots at the Crest as it takes off, and you’ve already pressed the button to close the ramp. However, the older man who stands apart from the rest, dressed in a leather vest and gunbelt, raises a pointed finger at the rapidly closing ramp.

“You can’t hide, Mando,” the man shouts over the ruckus, his deep voice booming over the racket. “There’s nowhere in this galaxy that you’ll be safe.”

The boarding ramp slides into place with a loud clamp and seal, and the Mandalorian, still on the ground next to you, forces himself off the ground with a grunt. He makes one last dash into the cockpit, taking in your work as he grabs the controls for the ship.

“Hold on,” he tells you, and you anchor yourself into the passenger seat beside the child just as the Razor Crest shoots into the sky. Blaster bolts pelt the sides and back of the ship, making you cringe, but the Mandalorian stays focused, piloting the ship deftly over the tops of the buildings of Nevarro and into the night sky. It’s only once he’s reached the high altitudes, safely away from any blaster shots or incoming ships, that he allows himself to relax, falling back against his chair with an exhausted sigh.

You release a long breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding, then tear your gaze from the Mandalorian to the window beside your head. As the Crest careens into outer space, you cast one last look down at Nevarro, at the planet that has been your home – your prison – for the last two years. Then you fix your eyes ahead into the endless starry sky.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Link to Chapter 2

[larkoneironaut]

Made some minor improvements to her portrait 🖤 I already have three more sketches of my Din girl, can’t wait to finish those soon! I also just finished writing chapter 5, so it’s going well, rn! I’m lowkey obsessed with her, not gonna lie 🫶🏽

[fullmetal-angelgrace]

I'm watching season 1 of the mandalorian and omg I cant believe how quickly Din turns into a dad, once he escapes with grogu he is FULLY ready to just chill on a random planet taking care of him for who knows how long, I love it

[awesomesauce-n-sassypants]

Yoooo the face Din makes when the guy yells “WHAT’S YOUR NAME, OFficer??” Straight up :3 

Head empty, helmet off. 

like, no wonder we all are all over him. Dude’s dreamy, deadly, drowning, and dumb af. What more could we be asking for?

[cobbssecondbelt]

I know we are all worried about the pacing of this season's plot, but let's not forget the past two seasons weren't much different.

The "real action" always started only towards the sixth episode (with Greef's holocall in s1 and Grogu's kidnapping in s2). Before that, we had a general idea of what the quest was, but the stakes weren't too high. Heck, the main antagonist of the show was only introduced in the seventh episode of season 1. The first half of a season usually takes its time with side quests and little hints and installements and then it really delivers in the last 3 episodes.

So yeah, season 3 feels like it's dragging a little bit and the plot sure is less clear than in the precedent seasons, but it's not exactly a huge change from what we've seen in the past.

[shirozora-draws]

Taking a break from working on Gravity Well by working on The Stars, which is what the 3quelfic is going to be called and is hopefully going live this weekend. Here's a snippet of art-in-progress for it.

I, a fucking fool, am trying something new that is also years overdue, which is actually fucking painting something. So, I'm painting them all. If nothing else, I'm gonna fucking learn how to paint real fast.

Fucking rip to this fool and their ambitious ways.

[fandom-official]

It's entertainment March madness 😵‍💫

[ahsokkairti]

what the fuck??? where was this energy all this season 😭

[missingn000]

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 60: The Briefing

summary: Din, Astra, and Bo-Katan make plans to lead the covert into battle on Nevarro.

warnings: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 4.367k

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chapter 60: the briefing

The light of the fire’s flames flicker around the cave as Astra sits and watches them with an anxious knot tied within her armored chest. Her desire to help the people of Nevarro only grows more and more with each moment that passes, and the longer she has to wait to reach them, the worse it becomes. The uncertainty of having the covert’s aid doesn’t help, leaving Astra to wring her gloved hands together as she watches the Armorer stand in front of the gathered group.

Din sets one of his hands over hers to ease her anxious actions. She looks over at him and her gaze meets his visor. He gives her a firm nod as his gloved fingers thread through hers and offer a reassuring squeeze. Din doesn’t have to say a word for Astra to understand. It’s gonna be okay.

“Din Djarin has requested this meeting,” the Armorer announces, calling the attention of the Mandalorians who have been murmuring amongst themselves. She lifts the tool in her hand and goes on. “He will speak to you about Greef Karga and the crisis on Nevarro.” The Armorer’s visor sets itself on Din. “Come forward.”

Astra gives Din’s hand a quick squeeze before he stands and makes his way over to the Armorer. She offers him the tool in her hand and takes her place amidst the collected group. Din glances at the tool and directs his attention towards the Armorer. “Thank you.” He gestures to the rest of the covert. “The rest of you have my gratitude for accepting an audience with me.”

Warmth starts to blaze within the depths of Astra’s chest already as she watches and listens to Din. He’s come a long way from being the man who was almost too shy to speak to the people of Freetown about the Tuskens. The confident strides he starts to take on the sand prove that even more.

“Now, many of you don’t know Greef Karga,” Din goes on, “and those that do fought against him when you rescued me from his ambush many cycles ago on the streets of Nevarro.”

Astra glances at her hands in her lap for a moment and lets a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. It was the night she and Din first met, the beginning of their forever—but for others, it was a night of devastation and loss. Her smile starts to fade as she looks up at Din again.

Din stops walking and faces the group with severity. “Since then, he’s had a change of heart and has risked his life to save mine as well as the foundling in my charge.”

Astra glances at Grogu, who sits alongside Zora in their pod that floats at the Armorer’s side. He coos as if he’s agreeing with Din’s words.

“I stand before you to petition an intervention.” Din’s visor scans the group, but when it finds Astra’s gaze, he stops for a moment to seek her comfort. “To help rescue Nevarro before it’s too late.”

Astra resists the urge to stand and run to his side. As hard as it is for her to wait to rescue Nevarro, it’s even more difficult for Din. He’s known Greef for a long time and the planet itself was once a home to him. He’s been strong ever since he received the news from Captain Teva and watched Greef’s message for help, but Astra isn’t ignorant of the deep desperation that festers underneath his beskar.

“I am in no position to ask any more of you,” Din continues, peeling his visor away from Astra to focus on the group again. “However…”

Din’s forced to pause as the Mandalorians start to murmur amongst themselves. Astra looks at them with a furrow in her brow, her armored shoulders rising as she prepares to demand silence for her husband. It’s only Bo-Katan’s gloved hand on her pauldron that stops her, the Mandalorian at her side offering a reassuring tilt of her helmet. “He’ll handle it,” Bo whispers to her. Astra nods at her and forces herself to take a deep breath.

“However.” Din’s voice becomes more firm as he lifts the tool in his hand. The group falls silent. Astra’s lips curl up in sly satisfaction as he lets the tool fall back to his side. “The enemy that decimated this very covert were Imperials, not Greef Karga’s bounty hunters.” He pauses to let the realization fall upon the Mandalorians. “Greef Karga is now a High Magistrate and has offered me a tract of land on his independent world.”

Din gives Astra another glance. She smiles at him in encouragement and offers a nod. He tilts his helmet and she watches his free hand tighten into a fist at his side. Din remains focused on Astra as he speaks.

“Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again on a planet where we are welcome, so our culture may flourish,” his visor scans the group and lands on the pod at the Armorer’s side, “and our children can feel what it is to play in the sunlight.”

Astra beams as she gazes at him. It’s a conversation they haven’t been able to have ever since they found out the covert would have to relocate, but for Din to remember his unspoken promise to her of creating a home for them on Nevarro brings her a warmth that rivals the flames that light up the cave around them. He wants to make a safe place for them in this galaxy and at long last, their path has led them—and their people—back to Nevarro.

Din focuses on the Armorer as he approaches her and offers up the tool in his hand. She rises and takes it from him, letting him step away and return to Astra’s side. “Does anyone else wish to speak?” she questions the group.

The Mandalorians start to look at each other, but Astra can only focus on hers. As soon as he sits down, Astra reaches for his hand, holding it tight in her own as her head rests against his arm. Din sets their entwined hands on his armored thigh and whispers to her. “It’s up to them now.”

Astra smiles and looks up at him. “Well, either way, I’m proud of you. You were very eloquent.”

Din rests his helmet upon her forehead. His voice is strained when he responds. “Thank you.”

Astra stays in the sweet moment as long as she can, but the voice of someone else tears her from it much too soon. “I do,” Paz finally answers the Armorer’s question.

Astra resists the urge to jump up and speak before he can. Instead, she remains at Din’s side, holding his hand even tighter as she watches Paz take the metal tool from the Armorer’s hand. He nods at her before he starts to make his way to the place where Din was just standing.

“I was there on Nevarro that night,” Paz begins, his voice low. “I fought against Greef Karga and his hunters. I saw my brothers and sisters fall at the hands of the Imperial butchers that hunted us in the sewers.”

Astra’s gaze falls to her and Din’s entwined hands for a moment. While it was ultimately the decision of the covert to reveal themselves, she was the one who had approached them with the plea for help. She’s hit with a quick pang of guilt that resolves itself when Din secures his free hand over theirs and offers a comforting tilt of his helmet.

“I saw many die to save the life of this one, tiny foundling.” Paz gestures to Grogu, who coos in the pod alongside his sister. Astra tightens her jaw in fury while Din’s grasp already starts to tighten on their hands. They both summon their strength to let Paz go on. “And now we are asked to sacrifice yet again.”

The group starts to murmur amongst themselves. Astra and Din glance at each other and she lets herself be comforted by the familiarity of his visor. The way the flames reflect off his beskar reminds her of their nights spent on Sorgan, a memory that dissipates her worries if even for just a single moment.

“The question we should be asking ourselves is, ‘Why? Why should we lay our lives down yet again?’”

Astra looks over at Bo-Katan, who continues to sit on her other side. It’s relieving to know that their ally will help them even if the covert chooses not to. She awaits Paz’s call for rejection with a breath she holds within her armored chest.

“Because we are Mandalorians.” Paz’s voice has risen with the strength of a thousand warriors. Astra exhales in disbelief as she and Din share a quick glance. “I have had my disagreements with this man,” Paz gestures to Din, “but he risked his life to save my son.”

Astra looks up at him with a proud smile as she rests her head against his arm again. Din’s helmet lowers in shyness, his gloved fingers playing with hers.

“Bo-Katan Kryze did not give up on my child’s life even when the rest of us did.”

Bo-Katan nods with respect out of the corner of Astra’s eye. She’s prepared for Paz to move on, but his visor looks straight at her.

“And Astra Djarin was the one who urged us to save one of our own long before she even joined our ranks.”

Astra’s lips part in shock as she glances at Paz with incredulity. When she looks at Din again, his helmet is tilted with an affection that words could never bring to justice.

“They are asking us to take up arms in the name of a brighter future, and I for one will take up arms to fight by their side.” The crowd begins to stir with agreement in a way that makes the weight fall off of Astra’s armored shoulders. “This is the Way.”

Astra joins in with the crowd’s unified response. “This is the Way.”

Everyone looks to the Armorer as she offers a decisive nod. “This is the Way.” She rises from her seat and takes the metal tool from Paz’s gloved hand. “We will group together at first light to hear the plan from Clan Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze. Tonight, you all must seek rest for the battle ahead.”

With that, the Mandalorians begin to rise from their places around the fire. Astra and Din follow their lead, their hands remaining entwined even as they approach Paz and the Armorer. The pod’s brought back to their side, with Zora already fast asleep and Grogu lifting his ears in joy. Din only drops Astra’s hand to reach his arm out towards Paz, who accepts it in a warm and respectful handshake.

“Thank you,” Din says to his Mandalorian brother.

Paz nods and lowers his arm. “This is the Way.”

Those become their parting words as the Mandalorians go their separate ways. Astra and Din remain silent on their short walk back to their quarters, the last evening they’ll get to spend there. Astra tries not to dwell too much on the thought of it as Din holds the curtain open for her and their children and secures it closed behind them.

“I wasn’t expecting that from Paz,” Astra starts telling Din. She watches as he joins her by the table and sets his helmet on top of it. “I thought he would—.”

Astra doesn’t get a chance to finish as Din’s hands reach for her face and pull her towards him. Their lips meet and Astra forgets everything she was going to say, instead indulging in this unexpected moment of strong affection that threatens to drown her in the very best way. She brings herself even closer to him, each beat of her heart flickering with a flame more ardent than the fire that had once lit up the cave. Her hands press against his armored chest and remain there even when he’s forced to pull away from her, mostly for the sake of their young audience.

Astra raises an eyebrow at him, awaiting an explanation. Din’s gaze searches her with amazement. “You never told me you were the one who convinced them to save me.”

Astra’s gaze falls to her hands on his cuirass as she shrugs. “It was their decision to make. I just told them what was happening.”

“Paz said you urged them to.” Din runs his thumbs over his cheek, a soft smile painted across his lips. “He’s a man of his word, cyar’ika.”

Astra sets her hand over one of his. “Well, that was many years ago. Let’s focus on what you did tonight.” She lifts his glove just enough to set a kiss on the skin of his wrist. “You should be very proud of the way you called them to action.”

Din’s face already starts to redden as he looks to the side. “Greef’s done a lot for us.” His gaze finds Astra’s again. “And this gives us the chance to make a home there for us and the covert, one that isn’t temporary.”

He lowers his hands from her face and sets one on her armored shoulder. Din turns her around and wraps his arms around her, easing her back against his cuirass and resting his chin upon her head as they look around the space of their quarters together.

“It’ll be furnished with more than just stone. There’ll be a place where we can make a fire to keep it warm, just like the ones we made on Sorgan.” Astra’s eyes start to water with joy just at the thought of it. She rests her head against one of Din’s arms as he goes on. “I’ll make a place to hang up our armor and our weapons so that we can enjoy the sunlight and comfort with our children.” He presses a kiss to her head. “How does that sound?”

Astra closes her eyes and imagines it. There’s only one word that’s fitting enough for it. “Perfect.”

Din’s smile is audible in his tone. “Good.” He releases a soft breath and pulls Astra closer. “Just one more battle.”

“I’ll fight a thousand more battles if that’s what it takes to have a home with you.”

A breath hitches in Din’s throat, rendering him speechless for a moment. He exhales to let it out in a sigh that’s both soft and sweet. “That was spoken like a true Mandalorian.” Din kisses her temple and lets her go. “For now, we should rest. I’ll put the kids to bed if you want to get a head start.”

Astra nods to agree with him, her gaze remaining on him as he takes the pod with their sleeping children and brings it to their room. She crosses her arms over her chest while she watches him. It’s the last time they’ll spend the night here, a bittersweet thought that rocks Astra’s clouded mind. It was a temporary home that served them well, and now, they’re just one crucial step away from their long-term home.

And even with all the comfort of Din’s words, that familiar feeling of worry still makes its way back to her.

Like Sorgan, Freetown, and Mos Espa, Astra and Din will serve the people of Nevarro in this battle, but it always goes back to Astra’s fight for the people of Arilia. She never heard how many of her people got off planet before the first fiery piece of Alderaan broke through Arilia’s atmosphere. All she knew was that those who were on her ship were the only ones who made it to Tatooine. The others had either scattered or been destroyed.

That’s why Astra’s not surprised when Din holds her tighter tonight as they lay together. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to, and neither does he. The memories of her past have become much like his own. Their pleas for each other’s safety are silent, but understood. Astra’s hand is clutched around Din’s Mythosaur necklace and his arms act as a delicate vice around her. They refuse to make promises, but each unspoken word hangs in the air like dense fog, haunting their rest that’s supposed to be peaceful.

When Astra wakes, it’s to the sound of Zora’s distant crying. She manages to pry herself from Din’s arms without waking him as she makes her way from their room to their children’s. As soon as Astra pulls the curtain aside, she sees Zora’s brown eyes glittering with tears.

“Mama,” Zora cries for her, reaching her arms out with desperation. The single word slams a wave of worry against Astra’s chest as she looks upon the source of it.

“Oh, Zo,” Astra sighs in sympathy. She makes her way to Zora’s bed and holds her, letting her crying daughter bury her face in her mother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m worrying you. Everything’s going to be just fine, my angel.”

Zora’s cries soften, but they don’t stop. Astra rests her head against Zora’s curls and continues.

“You’re gonna be with Papa the whole time, okay? You and Grogu will stay together.” Astra kisses Zora’s head. “I won’t be far away, I just won’t be in the ship with you. I’ve got to help our people on the ground.”

Zora lifts her head and blinks. “Papa?”

Astra nods. “Yes, Zo. You’ll be with Papa.”

Zora’s gaze leaves Astra and points over her shoulder. “Papa.”

Astra turns her head and sees Din leaning against the threshold. He offers a small and guilty smile before Astra’s gaze returns to Zora with a guilt of her own. She hasn’t had a chance to brief Din on her ideas just yet. Astra prepares for him to convince her otherwise.

“I figured that would be the plan.” Din’s words earn a look of surprise from Astra as she raises her brow at him. He steps towards her and she sees nothing but pride in his gaze. “You’ve always been the bravest one of us.”

Astra shrugs as shyness threatens to overtake her. “I just know I’ll serve them better on the ground.” She smiles at him. “The N-1 is your specialty, not mine.”

Din closes the distance between them, his hand cupping her cheek before his finger starts to trace her scar. “Remember to use your armor,” he says, his voice low. “You’ve trained long and hard for this moment. Don’t doubt yourself.” Din’s hand returns to her cheek. “You’re just as strong and capable as the others.”

Astra nods at him. “I know.” She leans into his touch. “You’ve helped me realize that.”

Din’s gaze softens. “You always have been, even before you got your armor.”

“Well… the armor helps.”

Din laughs and nods. “It definitely makes me feel better about your safety.” He releases a gentle breath and bends down to rest his forehead against hers. His eyes remain closed even as he sets his free hand on Zora’s head. “I’ll be glad when this battle is over, though.”

Astra sets her hand over his. “So will I.” She brushes her thumb over his skin. “But at least I’ll get to put this armor and your training to use.”

Din huffs and reopens his eyes. “Very true. Sorry I have to miss seeing it for myself.”

Astra shrugs, her gaze flickering between his gaze and lips. “It’s probably for the best.”

Din chuckles, closing the gap between them to kiss her. When he pulls away, he also gives Zora’s head a kiss. “We should start getting ready. Bo wanted us to brief the plan with her one more time before we present it to the covert.”

Astra nods, her focus returning as she helps to get her relaxed daughter as well as their son ready for the eventful day ahead. Grogu listens with intent to Astra’s instructions on how he ought to help keep his sister safe during the fight. She helps Din with his armor shortly after and he returns the favor. They leave behind their temporary home just in time to meet with Bo-Katan, who eagerly awaits them just outside the mouth of the covert’s cave.

“Good morning,” Bo greets them, a smile evident in her tone as she watches Din steady Zora on his hip. “Are all of you ready for the battle ahead?”

“We are,” Astra asserts, sharing a look with Din as they both nod.

“Good.” Bo sets her visor on Din, her arms crossing over her cuirass. “Are you still good to join me in the air?”

“I am,” Din responds, his visor finding Astra’s gaze. “But… Astra won’t be with me.” He pauses and Astra watches him take Zora’s tiny hand between two of his gloved fingers. “She’ll be joining the forces on the ground.”

Bo looks at Astra with her helmet raised. “Are you prepared to drop in?”

Astra straightens her armored shoulders and nods. “I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.”

Bo tilts her helmet. “Perfect.” Her visor looks beyond their clan, and when Astra’s gaze follows it, she can see the rest of the covert starting to emerge. “I can brief them, unless you’d like to.”

Din exchanges a look with Astra before he answers for them. “Go ahead.” He turns to face Astra and sets his free hand on her armored shoulder. “I’m gonna take the kids to the N-1 if you’d like to stay here for the full briefing. Just…” he runs his gloved thumb over her mudhorn, “see me before we all go.”

Astra sets her hand over his. “I will.” She wraps her hand around the back of his helmet to make it meet her forehead. The gesture speaks for both of them as Din forces himself to step away and take their children back towards the N-1. Astra watches them for a long moment before she falls alongside the other members of the covert who have started to gather in front of Bo and the Gauntlet. Once everyone’s gathered, Bo-Katan begins, her presence as powerful as her voice.

“This is a Kom’rk Class fighter transport,” Bo introduces the ship behind her. She strides across the shore, her visor scanning the group of united Mandalorians. “I’ll use this to drop you in and you will operate as a tight military unit.”

She points behind them, and a quick turn of Astra’s head rewards her with the sight of Din leaning against the starfighter with Zora still set on his hip. Zora offers an adorable wave at the attention they start to earn. Astra smiles and forces herself to look away before she abandons her plan in favor of staying with her family.

“Din Djarin and myself will reinforce from above.” Bo-Katan nods in Din’s direction. “If everyone acts as they should, we can use the element of surprise and defeat an enemy that outnumbers us.” She scans the crowd once more and adds a final decisive nod. “This is the Way.”

Astra joins the chorus that responds. “This is the Way.”

Bo-Katan leads the way onto the Gauntlet, but Astra hangs back. She weaves through the advancing group to get to Din, who’s since set Zora in the pod alongside Grogu. He anticipates her approach with a shift of weight between his feet. Astra’s heart sinks as she wastes no time wrapping her arms around him, letting him hold her just as tight in return.

“Next time I see you,” Astra starts, her voice as soft as she can make it, “we’ll be one step closer to our true home.”

Din takes a deep breath and lifts Astra to hold her face between his gloved hands. “You’re my true home, cyar’ika.” He rests his helmet against her forehead. “Never forget that.” His gloved fingers run over her skin. “Protect yourself as fiercely as you would our home.”

“I will.” Astra smiles and grasps his wrists to give them a gentle squeeze. She pulls away from him only to set a kiss on each of her children’s heads. “Be good for Papa, okay?” They coo in response, with Grogu even setting a protective hand over Zora’s. Astra looks at Din and cups his beskar cheek. “I love you.”

Din covers her hand with his. “I love you, too.” He gestures to her vambrace. “Comm me if something goes sideways. Okay?”

Astra nods. “Okay.” She lowers her hand to his cuirass and lets it linger before she forces herself to step away. Astra takes a deep breath to shift her focus from her family to the battle ahead, knowing that the people of Nevarro deserve every ounce of ferocity and precision she keeps within herself. Just ahead of her on the boarding ramp is Paz, who turns and waits for her to approach.

“Are you joining us in the drop?” Paz asks her. Astra nods to respond, her jaw set as she anticipates defending herself. Instead, Paz offers a nod in return. “That’s very bold of you.” He leads the way for them into the ship and to their spots, a row of collapsable seats that’ll give way once they’ve arrived on Nevarro. Once they sit, Paz’s visor turns towards Astra again. “I figured you’d be staying with Djarin.”

Astra shakes her head. “I wouldn’t be doing much there. Din’s the pilot, not me.” Astra tightens her gloved hands around her armored thighs. “The covert needs me on the ground. That’s where I can help the most.”

The engines of the Gauntlet start to rumble as Paz nods in respect at Astra, a slow gesture that brings a small smile to Astra’s lips. “This is the Way.”

Astra resists the urge to let the familiar sense of worry return as she delights in Paz’s praise. “This is the Way.”

With that, the Gauntlet takes off, bringing Astra, her family, and the covert closer to a battle that could determine the future of them all.

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