#the mandalorian fandom

[flightlessangelwings]

Lady and the Merc

Axe Woves x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 4.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ only!), mutual pining, feelings, cheeky Axe, tension, flirting, fluff, takes place in the Gins for Hire episode Notes- I know a max of like 10 people will care about this fic but Axe gets no love on here and I've been thinking about him ever since he came back in the new season! He’s just so fine omg so I couldn’t help but write this!!! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates​ is my update blog to stay up to date on when I post! Feel free to follow that too and turn on post notifs!

~

It created a great commotion when the Mandalorians showed up on your planet. Amidst the glam and the colors that illuminated your planet, the mercenaries stood out, and many gawked as the leader and his two top trusted companions entered the palace. You stood at the Duchess’ side, her right hand as you had been your entire life, while she explained the need for protection on your planet.

“And acting as liaison between our peoples,” she gestured to you as she introduced you by name, “She will make sure you have everything you need and keep communication between our people open.”

You stepped forward as your nerves flared; the leader was even more handsome up close. “I look forward to working with you,” you extended your hand for a shake, “And I personally want to thank you all for coming to our aid and keeping our people safe.”

“The pleasure,” the leader took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it tenderly, “Is all mine,” he gave you a wink as you felt your skin burn under his touch, “And call me Axe Woves.” Behind him, the other two equally beautiful Mandalorians rolled their eyes at his antics.

“Axe Woves,” you breathed his name as you fought to keep your composure under his gaze.

Axe smirked, “It sounds beautiful on your lips, my lady.”

“You can just call me by my name,” you repeated it back to him as your nerves felt like they set your body ablaze. And it only got worse when he echoed your name back with a small bow.

This was going to be harder than you anticipated.

*

The Mandalorians settled quickly on the outskirts of the city. They made themselves comfortable in the lush grass as they set up camp in the sunshine and fresh air. You made several trips outside the city to bring them provisions and make sure they were comfortable, and every single time you encountered Axe Woves, you left feeling flustered. You hid it well, though, and you never let it show just how much his charming smile made you weak in the knees. Somehow, however, you had the feeling he was aware of the effect he had on you.

A few weeks passed, and things were luckily quiet. When you came out for your visit, you found Axe leading a training practice. Instead of disturbing him, you decided to sit down on a crate and watch quietly. His voice was fierce as he commanded his people, but it was never harsh. You could tell he knew what he was doing, and that he cared about the safety and wellbeing of the other Mandalorians. And while you barely knew him, you had the feeling that Axe Woves was an honorable man. 

And then he made eye contact with you.

“That’s enough for today,” he said to the others who quickly dispersed to rest while he strutted over to you, “Enjoy the show today, my lady?” Axe took your hand and gave the back of it a light kiss: his way of greeting you every time.

You swallowed hard before you answered, “I’d heard stories of Mandlorians, but it’s an honor to see the legends in person.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” Axe replied with a charming smile. But, you thought you caught him falter just for the briefest of moments. Was he secretly just as flustered as you were?

Breaking past the nerves, you asked a question that was on your mind for some time, “Would you teach me a few things?” you took a breath as Axe’s eyes went wide for a moment, “I’d like to know how to defend myself if the time ever came.”

Axe smiled brightly at you, “I would be honored to teach you, my lady.”

*

“Block. Block. Perry. Good!”

Sweat lined your brow as you kept up with Axe’s instructions as best you could. He started you off easy, and you could tell how much he held back so as to not hurt you. But, you picked up his tips and tricks quickly and his lessons quickly escalated. 

“Find your opponent's weakness,” his smooth voice went right to your core as the adrenaline rushed through your system, “Stay sharp.”

“Got it,” you huffed as you prepared yourself for another round.

Axe came at you again with a grunt. He swung at you as gently as he could as you raised your arms and used them as a shield to block his attack. You blocked three hits before you swung back, catching him on the shoulder.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed as you rubbed your hand.

“Beskar, darling,” Axe smirked, “Toughest in the galaxy.”

You ran your eyes up and down his figure before you met his eyes again. And the satisfied grin on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking. But, before you could say anything, Axe lunged at you with more force and pinned you back against the wall.

All the breath was forced out of your lungs as your back slammed against the cold wall while Axe pinned himself against you. You were trapped, but the nerves that pulsed through your veins weren’t from fear. He had never been this close to you before, and your breath trembled as you felt his exhale on your skin.

Your eyes went wide as you found yourself helpless against his strong body. And before you could stop yourself, a soft whimper escaped your lips as his leg brushed against your core. But, it wasn’t until Axe’s gaze gleaned down to your lips for a brief moment that your world really felt like it was spinning. 

“Have I found your weakness, Axe Woves?” you asked breathlessly.

Axe’s grip on you softened as he breathed your name. His hand gently cradled your face as he slowly leaned in closer to you. But, just as he showed the brief moment of vulnerability, you turned the tables on him. You swung your leg around his and kicked the back of his knee, causing Axe to collapse.

In a flash, you pushed him down onto the ground and straddled his waist, “Got you,” you sounded so pleased with yourself.

“Well done, darling,” Axe grunted softly after getting the air knocked out of him, “You’re a quick learner.”

“I have a good teacher,” you replied with a wink of your own.

Axe couldn’t help the way his face lit up. But, as much as he liked the view of you on top of him, he wouldn’t admit defeat. Just as quickly as you moved, he grabbed you and flipped your bodies over so that he laid on top of you and had you pinned on the floor.

You yelped as your world flipped and you found yourself on your back with the Mandalorian on top of you. Heat rushed through your skin as he shifted his weight overtop of you and before you knew it, a soft moan escaped your lips.

“You look absolutely beautiful like this,” Axe murmured as he leaned forward, his lips hovering just over yours, “What do you think my weakness is?” he asked softly.

Caught up in a whirlwind, it took you a moment to reply, “A person who bats their eyes at you.”

He let out a heavy breath, “Not just any person…” 

“Axe…”

But, before anything could progress further, the sound of someone clearing their throat called both your attention.

“Koska,” Axe exclaimed as he pushed himself off of you, “I was just showing the lady a little self defense,” he explained as he extended a hand out for you, “And she did exceptionally,” he faced you with a wink as you took his hand. 

A soft smile lit up her face as she let out a short laugh, “Whatever you say,” Koska waved her hand, “You’re needed outside when you’re done,” she added before she left and gave you privacy again.

Axe looked disappointed as he helped you to your feet, “Duty calls, my lady,” he kissed the back of your hand, “Until next time then?”

You were left breathless, and you knew it wasn’t just from the sparring, “I look forward to it, Axe Woves.”

“As do I.”

*

“My lady,” the droid called from the doorway to your suite, “Axe Woves is here to see you.”

“Thank you, let him in,” you replied from the shadows deep into your suite.

The droid retreated and Axe walked past him, closing the door behind him. It was late into the evening, and the moonlight illuminated your room beautifully. But, he couldn’t quite see you from the entryway.

“You wanted to see me, my lady?” Axe asked as he stepped further into the room to look for you, “Is everything alright?” concern laced his voice as he found himself worried that something happened to you. 

“Everything’s fine, Axe,” you replied as you emerged from the shadows in the back of your suite, “I just wanted to see you,” your tone dropped as you crossed the room and came into full view. You were full of nerves, but you did your best to hide it and keep the air of confidence. 

Axe’s eyes went wide and his breath hitch in his throat as he took in the sight of you. “Well,” he exhaled, “What have we here?” his tone dropped as well as he closed the gap between you. He set his helmet down on a nearby table to free his hands. 

You were dressed in a silvery blue robe. Only in a silvery blue robe. A very sheer robe that Axe could see your entire figure in the moonlight. And it didn’t escape his notice that your robe matched his armor almost perfectly. 

“It’s just like you said,” you batted your eyes, “I wanted to see you,” your voice was hushed. 

“You look lovely,” he groaned softly as he rested his hands on your hips.

Your skin felt like it was on fire under his gaze. Maker, he was so handsome in the moonlight. Even as your hands trembled, you reached for his shoulders and slowly pulled him closer. “Axe…” you breathed as you pressed your chest against his beskar. The cool of the metal contrasted the warmth of your skin and goosebumps erupted all over you. 

A short laugh escaped his lips as his eyes ran up and down your figure, checking you out in a very unsubtle way, “I believe you are trying to seduce me, my lady,” his grip on your hips tightened before he ran his hands up and down your sides. 

You glanced at his lips before you looked back into his eyes, “I am,” your voice was just a whisper, “I know,” you paused as the facade slipped for a moment, “I know I’m not the first, but…”

“What makes you say that?” he cut you off with a sly smirk. Axe let go of you only for a moment so he could remove his gloves. And when he grabbed you by the chin, both of you felt that jolt of electricity as skin touched skin for the first time. 

You knew he knew what was on your mind, and you knew he just wanted to hear you say it. But, when Axe Woves looked at you like that, you were weak, “Because,” you paused, drawing it out for a few moments to tease him right back, “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” you let out a shaky breath when he laughed softly, “ And I don’t care about anyone else… I want you tonight.”

Axe’s response came when he crashed his lips against yours. He swallowed the moan you let out as he dove his tongue past your lips, immediately deepening the kiss. You surrendered to him as you clung to his broad shoulders and let him guide you back so that you found yourself pinned against the wall. 

“Then you’ll have me,” he groaned softly against your lips, “My lady,” Axe’s voice dropped before he kissed you again. This time, his hands roamed all over your body, caressing every dip and curve as if he was trying to memorize you from touch alone. And the taste of you was already seared into his memory, and Axe found himself already addicted to you, “You taste so good, my lady.”

“Axe…”

“I’ve got you,” he groaned as he bucked his hips against your body. 

Slowly, Axe hooked his fingers on the edge of your robe. But, he paused and looked you in the eye before he moved any further. You breathed heavily, your chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. But, you knew what he was asking even without the words needed. You knew he still just waited for your permission before going any further. 

“Please,” you breathed, “I want you to.”

With a soft groan, Axe obliged and tugged gently at your robe until it opened, baring the skin of your chest to him. He let out a low growl as his eyes ran down to your chest, “Actually,” his voice was low as his eyes blew black with desire, “You look even more lovely like this.” 

You gasped as he cupped your breast and his thumb flicked your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as you slammed your head against the wall and arched your back into his hand. Axe groaned as he shifted his leg so that his thigh rubbed against your pussy and at the same time he grabbed your other breast with his free hand.

Maker, you looked so beautiful like this, moaning and sighing under his touch. Axe knew he was smitten with you from the moment he saw you. But to see you like this, writhing with pleasure under his touch, Axe knew it would be hard for him to leave you. 

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned as one of his hands trailed down the front of your body, “You feel so good already, my lady,” Axe hissed as he felt the warmth of your pussy under his palm.

The moan you let out echoed in the room as Axe pushed a finger inside you. Waves of pleasure ripped through your body just from his one finger as he crooked it inside you and instantly hit that sweet spot that drove you wild. “Fuck… Axe…” you cried out as you clung to him.

He growled your name as he slowly added a second finger inside you. For once, he had no words, and was lost in the beauty of you lost in pleasure. Your warmth engulfed him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his palm rubbing at your clit every time he fully buried them inside you. 

Your hands ran up Axe’s shoulders and buried in his hair. Every time his fingers reached your sweet spot, you gave his hair a soft tug, making him hiss in pleasure. His cock strained between your bodies as you rocked your hips in time with the thrusts of his hand.

“Cum for me, darling,” Axe groaned as he rested his forehead against yours, “Let me see how beautiful you look when you lose control.”

“Axe…” was all you could whimper before your climax hit. You blinked your eyes open for just a moment before your entire body trembled and you came apart under his expert touch. Your scream threatened to alert the droids outside before Axe covered your mouth with his own.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured against your lips, “And as much as I want to hear those pretty screams… I don’t want any company right now,” Axe pulled you against him as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, “I want you all to myself,” his growled before he kissed you again.

All you could do was moan as you surrendered yourself to Axe Woves. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you pushed yourself off the wall and turned your bodies around, “The bed is this way,” you whispered between kisses.

“I’m at your service, my lady,” Axe grinned against you as he let you take the lead.

The two of you barely separated as you led him deeper into your suite where the bed lay. Your robe flowed around you, framing your nude figure in the moonlight beautifully. Axe wanted to keep his eyes open, to memorize every inch of you, to not miss a moment of your beauty, but he also couldn’t help but close his eyes and just enjoy the feeling of you against him.

He barely even noticed when you reached your bed until you pushed him down onto his back. You quickly climbed on top of him, straddled his waist in nothing but your bare skin and the robe that only clung to your shoulders, outlining your body. 

“Got you,” you beamed at him with satisfaction. 

Axe let out a soft laugh as he caressed your hips, “It appears you do, my darling.” 

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you. Axe looked so handsome against your silky sheets illuminated by the moonlight. Even through his armor, you could see the way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. And underneath your bare cunt, you felt how hard he was; you let out a soft moan as you rocked yourself against him and you savored the hiss he let out as his back arched up towards you.

Axe whispered your name as you lifted yourself up and fumbled with his pants, desperate to free his cock. You paused and met his gaze, and when you did the universe seemed to freeze for a moment. Lost in the other's eyes, you both somehow knew that this was more than just a one night need for release. This was more than just flirting and teasing. There was more behind your eyes, behind your words, behind your actions.

But the need was too great to dwell on it right now. The moment you freed Axe’s cock, you let out a heavy breath as you stroked it a few times.

“Impressed, my lady?” Axe asked with a cocky smirk.

You mirrored his smile, “About as impressed as you are, I believe.”

“Touche,” he laughed for a moment before he gasped.

You lined yourself up with the tip of his cock and slowly started to sink down on it. Both of you moaned loudly as you took Axe inside you inch by inch. The stretch was more than you anticipated, but having cum once helped get you ready to take him. And the way Axe held you and looked up at you with pure adoration made your heart pound in your chest. 

“Fuck…” you huffed as your hips met Axe’s and you leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest. 

Axe took the moment to wrap his arms around you and pull you in for another heated kiss. He groaned against you when he felt you squeeze his cock. Between the feeling of your wet cunt around him and the taste of you on his tongue, something ignited within him. Axe used all his momentum and flipped your bodies over so that you laid out on your back, the robe framing your nude figure perfectly.

“Axe…”

He thrust into you once before he paused, “I lied,” he grunted as he thrust again, “Now you’ve never looked more lovely,” Axe’s breathy voice went right to your core.

“Fuck!” you cried out as you clung to his shoulders.

Axe wasted no time in pounding into you while murmuring soft praises in Mando’a in your ear. Your screams were music to his ears as he thrust into your wet pussy over and over again. Your hand found its way to the base of his scalp again and you tugged at his hair as you lost yourself in him. Tears filled your eyes as his cock filled you over and over again.

“Darling,” Axe murmured in a breathy voice. He held onto you as he thrust his hips against yours as if he was afraid of letting you go. 

“I know,” you whispered.

With a grunt, Axe bit your shoulder, making you moan loudly. Both of you clung to the other as sweat lined your bodies. As he felt his own climax quickly approach, Axe snaked a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit.

“Cum with me, darling,” he groaned, “Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

“Fuck… Axe…” You were too lost in your pleasure to form any other words. But he didn’t have to wait long and with just a few more thrusts of his cock, you came hard.

Your scream drowned out Axe’s growl as his orgasm hit right after yours. Tears filled your eyes and your legs shook, and you felt Axe spill himself inside you as his breathing became shaky against your skin. Together you rode out both your climaxes until you were both a trembling mess.

Axe collapsed down on top of you, his warmth radiating through the beskar as he held you tightly. You whimpered as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him as close as you could as his cock softened inside of you. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his release drip from your pussy.

He must have felt it too, because Axe pushed himself up with a strained grunt, “Hold on, darling,” his voice was soft as he slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. When you whined at the loss of him, he gave you a soft look and cupped your face, “I’ve got you,” he repeated his words in a softer tone.

Axe made quick work of using the top sheet to clean you up before he laid down next to you and gathered you back in his arms once more. You both laid together in the comfortable silence for some time, as if you both knew that the world waited for both of you beyond the door and you savored the time you had together while you could.

“Axe?” you broke the silence.

“Yes, love?”

“I know you can’t stay the night,” your voice shook, “But don’t leave yet. I don’t want to feel cheap if you left now.”

You heard him let out a single laugh as he squeezed you tighter, “We don’t want that now, do we, love?” he paused, “I’m not leaving you yet.”

You let out a relieved sigh as you closed your eyes and just let the feeling of Axe’s embrace warm you. A few moments went by before you spoke again, “Do you think our people could ever be allies?”

“We both want what’s best for our people, my lady,” he replied, “But I wouldn’t say it’s out of the range of possibility.”

Silence fell over both of you again as time moved on. This time, though, it was Axe who broke it, “You were right, you know.”

“About what?”

“You weren’t the first to seduce me.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” he took your hand and moved it over his chest where he covered your hand with his, “You are the first to do something else…” The look in his eyes made your heart flutter as you knew what he was trying to tell you. 

You let out a deep sigh as you shifted to meet his eyes, “Axe, I…”

“Wait,” he cut you off with a finger to your lips, “I know,” his gaze was sharp as his eyes bore into yours.

You knew why he didn’t want to say it. It wasn’t because he didn’t feel for you. You knew he did. You knew from his actions and the way he held you. Neither of you could stop the feelings that bloomed between you, but Axe could keep your heart safe if for some reason he never returned to you. 

“I should get back to my people,” Axe reluctantly got up and grabbed his gloves and helmet. You stayed on the bed, wrapping the rode around your body as you watched him. Your heart ached, but you knew this was how things had to be. He knew it too, and he paused and looked at you longingly for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed you deeply once more. Breathing your name against your lips, Axe whispered, “I…”

You smiled sadly, “I know.”

As much as he cared for and was loyal to his people, Axe still found it hard to leave you behind. Reaching down into his boot, he pulled out a small knife and handed it to you, “I’ll be back for this… my lady…” and for my heart.

“I’ll keep it safe,” you whispered as you held the small knife against your chest.

Axe pressed his forehead against yours and both of you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, “I have to go,” he breathed before he forced himself away from you. 

“Be safe,” you called out to Axe’s retreating form.

“You too, my lady,” he turned over his shoulder before he walked out your door.

It was soon after that other Mandalorians arrived on your planet and Axe and the others left with him with the mission to retake their home planet. You only wished you had the chance to see him one more time before he left. All you were left with was his small dagger and a holo message he managed to send:

“My lady, I’m sorry to leave suddenly, but we aim to retake Mandalore and the time to move is now. I promise you though, the moment the planet is ours… the moment I’m able to return to you, I will. Until then, you have two things that belong to me, keep them safe. And I’ll tell you what I couldn’t say when I return.”

You sighed as you clutched Axe’s dagger to your chest.

*

“You miss him,” the Duchess said.

“What?!” you were brought back to the present by her voice jolting you from your thoughts.

“That handsome Mandalorian,” she clarified, “I can tell you liked him.”

“I…” you stuttered, trying to find your words, but none came to mind, “Yeah,” you finally admitted. 

“Don’t worry, my dear friend,” she placed a hand on your shoulder, “I have a feeling you’ll see him again.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” he winked, “He’ll come back to you.”

As if on cue, fanfaire blared through the elegant room and a droid announced the arrival of a Mandalorian. You looked at the Dutchess and your face lit up as the two of you made your way to the front of the crowd to greet your guest. And your heart nearly exploded from your chest when you saw Axe Woves again.

He met your gaze and smile before he announced to the room, “Mandalore belongs to Mandaloirans once more!”

Cheers erupted in the room.

“And I am here to propose an alliance with Plazir-15.”

The Duchess stepped forward, “We would welcome that, Mandaloiran Axe Woves.”

He bowed to her before his gaze fell on you.

She glanced between you and him before he spoke elegantly, “I’ll leave my trusted right hand woman to talk details with you.” She gave you a sly smile and a wink. 

You felt a wave of embarrassment as she retreated back to the crowd, leaving you and Axe facing each other. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment before the emotions overwhelmed you and you launched yourself into his arms, “Axe,” you breathed as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“I told you I’d come back to you once we had Mandalore,” he said in your ear, “And I have so much to tell you.”

“Well then,” you smirked, “Why don’t we go somewhere private then?”

His face lit up and he slid his hand in yours, “Lead the way… my lady.”

[theewokingdead]

Morning Sickness - Din Djarin x f!Reader (Another Way Universe)

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x f!Reader (Another Way Universe) Summary: Din learns some things about pregnancy while helping you through a bout of morning sickness. Word Count: 800+ Rating: No rating, blog is 18+. Content: Nausea/vomiting. Pregnancy. Tooth-rotting fluff. The usual teasing/banter. A/N: I found some stuff that I had written but didn't make the final cut when writing the main story. This takes place in the middle of Chapter 8 of "Another Way" but it can be read on its own. I miss writing for these two. I'll get to the epilogue eventually, I swear, so don't yell at me @pedropascalsx

Masterlist

Eyes fluttering open, you wake to find Din gone. Intent on finding him, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. The second you sit up, your head starts to spin. Your stomach turns over, and it feels as though the contents of your last meal are now fighting their way back up through your throat. Taking steady breaths, you pray it will subside soon.

Mouth filling with saliva, and the taste of bile rising from the back of your throat, you know it's past the point of no return.

You stumble out of bed, barely able to keep your balance as you make your way to the bathroom. Your stomach convulses and you heave, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet. The retching is violent, and you feel like you're going to cough up your insides. Finally, the spasms subside, and you slump against the cool porcelain of the bowl, panting heavily.

You hear a rustling behind you, and you turn your head to see Din standing in the doorway, concern etched on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, crossing the room to kneel beside you.

You shake your head, unable to speak, and he rubs soothing circles on your back as you try to catch your breath. After a moment, you manage to sit up, and he hands you a damp washcloth to wipe your mouth.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, feeling embarrassed and weak.

Din shakes his head. "If anyone should be sorry it's me. I did this to you."

“Pretty sure we played an equal part in it.” You offer him a weak smile, which he returns. “I just hope this doesn’t last much longer.”

“Me too. Not sure I can stand to see you sick for another year or so.”

“Another year or so?” you repeat, your eyebrows screwed in confusion as you look at him. “What do you mean? We only have seven more months before the baby comes - if that.”

“What?” Din immediately question, his voice filled with shock and confusion.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ Pregnancy only lasts 40 weeks.”

“What?” he repeats.

You can’t help but laugh. “Haven’t you been around pregnant women, Din?”

“Yes, but I’ve never had a reason to care about the length of their, uh…”

“Gestation?” you question.

“Yeah. I just assumed it’s a long time, like banthas.”

“Wait a minute. You’re telling me you know the gestational period of a bantha, but not a human being?” you question, laughing. “Maker, Din. You never cease to surprise me. I mean, fuck, do I like a seven-foot-tall hairy beast that will someday drop a hundred-pound newborn?”

Din chuckles, his expression softening as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. "No, you're much more beautiful than a bantha," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You lean into him, grateful for his love and support. “Good answer.”

“You think the little tadpole will let you get up?”

“Little tadpole?” you question.

“Better than bantha. Or ‘parasite’ as you so lovingly refer to our child.”

 With a smirk, you reply, “Ah, is it because Gungans are born as tadpoles?”

Din sighs. “I set myself up for that, didn’t I?”

“You did.” You stand up, using the sink for support. “I just hope that doesn’t mean I have to give birth in a bog.”

Din chuckles, standing alongside you. “I'll make sure to find the most comfortable place for you to give birth, even if it means taking down an entire empire to do it."

You roll your eyes but can't help the fond smile that tugs at your lips. "You know, for a guy who claims he's not romantic, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special."

He stands up, towering over you, and leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You are special, and I'll do anything to make sure you and our tadpole are safe and happy."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss, feeling a warmth spread through your body. In this moment, you forget the nausea and the discomfort, and all you can think about is how lucky you are to have this man by your side.

As he pulls away, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and gives you a mischievous grin. “And who knows, maybe giving birth in a bog will be a new experience for us. We can add it to our list of adventures.”

You laugh and shake your head. "I think I'll pass on that one, thank you very much."

Din pulls you in for another kiss, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. You feel a familiar heat building between your legs, and you can tell he's feeling it too. “Maybe we should continue this in the bedroom," he suggests, his voice low and husky.

You nod, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “Lead the way, Mando.”

As he takes your hand and leads you back to bed, you can't help but feel grateful for this man, for this life you've created together, for the little tadpole growing inside of you. You know there will be more challenges ahead, more moments of discomfort and fear, but as long as you have Din by your side, you know you can do anything.

[radiosummons]

For two characters that barely share more than five minutes on screen together and say even fewer words to each other, DinLuke sure has me in a fucking chokehold.

[words-are-fireproof]

Haalur - (Din Djarin x fem!reader)

(*gif from @cutieodonoghue )

Summary: The tension in Din's body is too much for you to bear. So, you take him home to help him relax and breathe. He needs it.

Rating: T (this might a strong T seeing as there's mention of smut but it's not quite M either so...)

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of past sexual encounters, a little bit angsty, super duper soft, uncertain reader and quite possibly more things that I'm forgetting.

A/N: So, there's a fic I read recently about Din and the reader having sex and him not taking the beskar off. I don't remember who wrote it and I'm embarassed to admit that, but I'm pretty sure it briefly leaks into this story and I AM SORRY ABOUT IT. It just makes a lot of sense and I guess I couldn't get the imagery out of my head. If that's your fic, lemme know so I can tag it and link it here to give you credit.

Also, this is only my second full length reader fic and while I feel a lot more confident in it, I'm not confident in my Star Wars lore, so apologies when I use the wrong words for stuff.

I don't do tag lists, but you're free to follow @fireproof-library for all my fics without the mess. Just turn on the notifications.

* haalur means breathe in Mando'a. Cabur means protector. mesh'la means beautiful. cyar'ika means darling/sweetheart *

[Masterlist]

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When you saw him again on Tatooine, your heart skipped a beat. How long had it been since you last saw him? It hadn’t been very many months, not like before when you hadn’t seen him in almost a year. This time, less time had passed, and you selfishly hoped that the downward trend would continue because the more time that passed, the less and less you’d see him, the more you worried about him. The more you feared he would never come back. 

He wouldn’t do that to you, would he? Leave you and never return to you? You wouldn’t put it past him. You couldn’t fall in love with a Mandalorian. The path led to heartbreak, and you were no stranger to it. No matter how much you thought he was different, you knew better. You weren’t Mandalorian, which meant he had no loyalty to you. 

But you knew better. 

The Creed promoted loyalty, Mandalorian or not. It’s why he kept returning to Tatooine. It’s why he continually sought out the same people over and over again. It’s why he was even on Tatooine in the first place. Peli found an old Naboo starfighter with the intention of giving it to him. A worthy replacement to the Razor Crest. 

You missed that gun ship something fierce, but you’d never admit it. You knew exactly how that ship sounded. Out of all the other ships that landed there on a somewhat regular basis, you could pick that one out of a line up every time. You knew the way the engines sounded when it dropped out of the clouds to land–a dull, low rumble that vibrated from your chest to your toes. You knew exactly what it looked like as it flew through the sky, built differently than most ships that landed on the planet. You knew to look for it when you expected him back. You never knew exactly when he’d return, but you knew he would. He was tethered to this place, much like you were. 

You were down at a local cantina in town when the commercial ship landed on a nearby landing pad. You heard the distinct metallic whine and the sudden influx of different languages and dialects. You weren’t exactly a polyglot. You knew how to speak droid and Jawa and just a bit of the wookie language but most of what you’d picked up over the years was from what you’d heard on the streets in the markets. You could barter and trade in different languages, but you couldn’t speak them fluently. A blessing and a curse, your mother would say, but you didn’t care. 

You finished your food quickly, bounding through the crowd to see who might be on the ship. Passers through, the most of them, but you happened to catch the glint of light off a helmet moving opposite you through the crowd. Your breath caught in your chest. The blood rushed through your ears, hollow and excited all at once. You broke off in a run in the opposite direction, cutting through the town on the way to Peli’s shop. You knew every nook and cranny and managed to get there right as he shot the womp rat trying to eat her. 

Dank Farrik, he looked good and you had to remember how to breathe. 

The two of them talked about the Naboo starfighter before he seemed to realize you were there. You’d tried not to draw attention to yourself, but you’d just managed to almost trip over one of Peli’s BD droids and the little guy wasn’t too happy about it, beeping and swearing at you in binary while you tried to silence it. 

“Hey, hey! What have I told you about yelling at my droids?” 

You immediately stop as the little guy toddles off cursing. “Sorry, Peli.” 

“And what did I tell you about sneaking into my place? You know better.” 

You shot Peli a fond little smile. “Yeah, but I like doing it anyway.” 

The woman in front of you huffed, obviously annoyed as she turned to him and motioned at you, “Mando this is–”

“I know who she is,” his voice sounded cold through the modulator, so different from the warmth you were used to. 

Peli looked confused between the two of you. You expected her to say something, but for once, she kept her mouth shut. “Okay, then. Wanna see this cool new ride I found you? It’s not finished. I just started working on it.” 

And that’s how the conversation ended. You followed them around as he expressed dislike at the idea of flying a starfighter instead of a heavy gunner. The entire time, you tried not to stare at him too much. Like always, he looked well put together. His beskar shone in perfect condition. Nothing knicked or scuffed that armor and something about knowing that made you smile. He was safe. Unless his ship was shot down in space. But you tried not to think about that. That was too much to bear. 

His flight suit underneath the armor looked faded and well worn. You wondered when was the last time he changed it out. You knew the Razor Crest held plenty of spares in all of its hidden compartments. But since it’d been destroyed, you didn’t know where his spares were, or if he even had any. You wondered if you could nick some clothes off a vendor and alter them for him. It wouldn’t be a flight suit, but it’d be something he could wear if he needed it. 

And that’s how the day goes. You trying not to stare. Him obviously knowing you’re there and also trying not to stare, all down to business and trying to wrangle parts for a starfighter that needed a lot of work. The two of you danced under Peli’s watchful and curious gaze but the fact she wasn’t saying anything said all it needed to. She knew and Mando knew she did, too. 

You find yourself at the back of the starfighter at the end of the day, fiddling with some part or other that you had no idea what it did or where it went. Your thoughts were on him and the way he looked crouched down under the nose of the ship. You didn’t even realize the older curly haired woman had slid up beside you.

“So,” she said suddenly, causing you to jump and drop the part you had in your hands. One of her BD droids scurried away so it wouldn’t get crushed. “How long has that been going on?” 

You tried to feign innocence as you bent to pick the piece up from the ground. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

She lifted an eyebrow. “C’mon now. I might be old but I’m not exactly blind.” 

“Peli–”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, alright. I get it. But if what I think is true, why don’t you get him out of here? Take him to your place? Show him a good time, if you know what I mean.” She elbowed you in the side and you tried to bat her arm away from you. 

“Okay, okay. Peli, I get the point.” 

“Besides,” the woman began, her gaze settling on Mando as he stood to grab a tool and get back to work, “he looks like he needs it.” 

She was right. You watched him move around some, always so poised and strangely elegant in his movements. But underneath that beskar, his muscles jarred and hitched, some usually more refined moves jerky and not at all like they should be. Something felt wrong. It felt…off, and you didn’t know why. You wanted to lift the world off his broad shoulders if only to see him less tense than he appeared now. 

You took a breath, ignoring the thoughts in your head that said, don’t do this in front of the older woman, but she had suggested it and if he trusted her enough to keep coming back for help, then he trusted her enough with other things, too. You sat the part down on a nearby bench and ignored the way the woman pretended not to watch. You’d have to talk to her later when Mando left again. But for now, you approached the Mandalorian, fingers itching to touch him, craving the feel of the beskar under your fingertips and the rough wool of his cape. 

Flashes of a night you’re sure he’s long since forgotten dance across your mind. You can still remember the itch of that wool cape as it scratched over your bare skin, keeping you warm in the Razor Crest as you cooled from exertions you dare not tell a soul about. He had a reputation to protect. You wouldn’t dare be the cause of any pain. 

But this time, you took a chance in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you could soothe some of that tension before you disappeared to your place. You settled your hand right on the edge of his shoulder armor where the leather of his bandolier dug into the flight suit. You squeezed and you swore you could feel him relax under your touch. 

“C’mon, cabur,” you murmured softly. “It’s time to rest.” He lifted his head, tilting it as he looked at you through the “t” of his helmet. You could almost feel the confusion radiating off of him. “Oh, she knows. She won’t say anything.”

He looked just past your shoulder at Peli who was messing with some coupling or something and muttering to her droids. Then he looked back at you. 

“I have warm soup at home,” you press, reaching up to settle your hand gently on his helmet like you were cupping his cheek.

He sagged into your touch. A sigh crackled through his modulator. “I have to be back here early in the morning.” 

You smile as relief slides through you. “I know. I’ll wake you up.” 

His body hefted up slowly as your hand slid down his beskar, stopping as your fingers slipped off his gloved hand. You almost settled your hand in his but decided better of it. You could imagine the stares you’d get on the street walking hand in hand with a Mandalorian. 

“I will be back tomorrow to keep working,” he said shortly in Peli’s direction. 

“We’ll be up bright and early. Maybe even with some parts. You know the Jawas, though. They come in late sometimes.” 

“We’ll do what we can.” 

Peli waved you both off. “Go on. Go get some rest. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

The woman winked at you and you knew that he could see it. You shrunk into a blush, wanting to disappear in the sand. By the stars were you always this obvious? You knew the answer to that, but you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. You didn’t want Mando to see it. Your relationship, whatever it was, as it was, wasn’t typically predicated on others knowing. Peli was…a bit of an unforeseen circumstance. Not that you were complaining. She pushed you in the right direction when you need the push. Even though you hated being pushed into anything. 

He didn’t say anything until you reached your apartment on the outskirts of town. The people there were thin on the ground until they seemed to disappear completely. Just the two of you lingered, lit solely by halogen lights, the beskar shining in the darkness. You unlocked the door and ushered him inside, out of the darkness and the chill that had begun to settle over the desert. You never got tired of the way it cooled off at night, despite the fact you were freezing by the time you shut the door behind him and began turning on the heaters. 

As you puttered around the small home, turning knobs and getting food from the cold case, you felt his gaze on you, watching you curiously as you moved. If anyone else had done that, you’d feel nervous, exposed, and far too vulnerable. You took yourself out of a situation once because too many eyes were on you and you felt like you were being critiqued on something you could never change or never knew you needed to change. You resisted going back out to that cantina when that happened. Eventually, though, you returned, even if the nervous feeling never really got any better. 

Under his gaze, though, you feel…strangely safe. Cabur suited him well in many ways, most of which you’d never tell a soul. You weren’t helpless. You’d dare anyone to make that insinuation. You could hold your own, and in fact, you often did. But despite your capabilities, you appreciated the protection he provided you when he blew into town. While he’d never gone into battle for you, you knew he would if he felt you were threatened. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Either way, actions or not, his gaze felt warm and safe even if you couldn’t see his eyes through his helmet. 

“Make yourself at home,” you motioned as you put the promised soup in a pot on the stove to heat up. 

The heat hadn’t kicked on yet and you shivered as you turned the element on with slightly shaky hands. You were about to pull on a poncho or an extra tunic or something when you felt the scratchy wool of the cape drape over your shoulders, his strong, still gloved hands running over your arms as he smoothed the fabric over you. 

“Well, hello, cyare,” you murmured, your head falling back gently into the cool beskar shoulder armor. 

“You thought I didn’t notice,” his low voice dripped honey smooth from the modulator. 

“Didn’t notice what?” 

“The way you were watching me in the garage.” 

You chuckle softly, turning in his embrace and wrapping your arms around his tapered waist. 

“I wasn’t too obvious, was I?”

He shook his head and you couldn’t help but smile as you laid your head on his chest. You wished you could hear his heart beat, but you made do with what you had. At least he was there with you. That’s what mattered. He was there and he seemed happy to indulge you, even if he never did take off his helmet or his gloves. You found it odd that everything else was fair game, but you tried not to think about it too much. If you thought about it too much, you’d ask too many questions and you knew better than to ask him too many questions. 

“I’ll heat up the soup and then go take a shower so you can eat.” 

“Thanks,” he said and you swore you could hear a smile in his voice, his tone tinged with relief. 

You wanted to see his face, but you wouldn’t push it. To push a Mandalorian was to tempt his wrath. You wanted no part of that. 

So, you lingered quietly like that. Wrapped in his arms and his cape with your head on his armored chest as the soup heated slowly on the burner. Even with the beskar on, your suspicions were correct about the tension in his body. You could feel it underneath his flightsuit, the muscles of his back tight and rigid. His posture, even with his arms around you, felt rigid, too. Something twinged inside of you. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but you couldn’t make the words come out of your throat. You sighed and lifted your head, letting him go and turning to stir the soup. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. Even though you had moved, he had not. He still stood stock still behind you. You couldn’t decide if he was curious about the sudden change in your demeanor or if it was something else. You could have asked, but again, you couldn’t make your voice work for some reason. 

“What’s wrong, mesh’la?” 

His voice jolted you out of your thoughts and you turned back to face him again.

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head and even with the darkened ‘t’ of his helmet, you knew he was giving you a look that meant he didn’t believe your feigned innocence. 

“You’re thinking about something.” 

You sighed a little bit, again, and shook your head. “Nothing.” Another tilt of his helmet. “You feel different is all.” 

“Different?” He asked curiously, his voice lilting softly through the modulator.

“Yeah. You feel…tense. I’m not used to that.” 

He fell silent, turning away to pad to the sofa. You tried not to feel hurt welling up into your chest. That was all you needed to know. Something was different. You didn’t know what it could be and you certainly didn’t want to ask if he was just going to clam up and draw away from you. 

You turn to the soup and stir it so it doesn’t scorch. You’re used to his silence, but this time it doesn’t feel right. This time, it almost feels like he wants to say something but maybe doesn’t have the words. You wouldn’t put it past him. You also don’t blame him. It’s not like you two are very close. You’re not. He just lost himself in you more than once and cuddled you once and you thought those things meant something. Fools errand. That’s what it was. 

“I miss the kid.” 

You stopped stirring, turning to look at his back as his helmet fell low in exhaustion. Without thinking, you turned the cook top down low and immediately came up behind him. Your slender hands gently settled on the area past his shoulder beskar that is padded with just coarse brown fabric. His cape drops from around your own shoulders as you begin to gently massage him. You can feel the knots in his muscles and the way a shudder works through him as you touch him. 

Before, when he lost himself in you, when he surrendered to his basest desires, he barely allowed you to touch him. He kept the armor and the helmet on, leaving indentations in your skin with the beskar, the coarse fabric of his flight suit rubbing a burn on the curve of your bum that bothered you for days. Even his gloves stayed on, but you couldn’t complain about that. You could still feel the way that buttery smooth leather slid easily between your legs. You wouldn’t mind a repeat of that. 

But now, when you touched him, he let you. You still dare not touch him without the suit but the appreciation is obvious as he allowed himself to relax incrementally under your adept hands. You let the silence between you linger. What could you say to him that didn’t sound contrite or pointless? You hated seeing him like this, but your tongue had a nasty habit of getting you into trouble and like earlier, you didn’t want to risk him clamming up completely. 

As you continued to massage his shoulders, though, you almost felt compelled to talk. So, you did, even if you felt like you were making a huge mistake. 

“Can you go visit him?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break this trance you’ve both settled into. 

“I could. I do have something to give him. Just have to get the starfighter up and running first.” 

You nod. That makes sense. He can’t do anything without a means of transportation. 

“What do you have to give him?” 

“A chainmail shirt. For protection.” 

“Fit for a foundling,” you murmured as you worked a particularly tense muscle. He hissed in pain. Your hands faltered on his shoulders. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“It’s fine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. 

You resisted the urge to smack him upside his helmeted head. “No, it isn’t.” 

You ease up your movements despite his protests. He’s been through enough without you adding pain to it. 

“I…found my people. What’s left of them,” he said softly. Even through the modulator you could hear the regret and sadness in his voice. 

“And…?” You trail off curiously, leaving the door open for his reply or his dismissal. 

He shook his head. You yearned to touch him. You yearned to comfort him properly. You could only do so much like this and it always felt like it was never enough. 

“It’ll be okay,” you whisper. “In the end. It always is, right?” He shook his head again. “Oh.” 

You both fell silent. Your hands lingered on his shoulders, not moving this time, just trying to offer him some sort of help despite feeling embarrassingly inept. You aren’t sure how long you stay there like that, but it was long enough that you forgot about the soup and you forgot about the insistent hunger gnawing at your insides. He must’ve too, but you didn’t mind. This was much more important, you reasoned. Food could always come later. 

As the silence continued, you lost track of time. You lost track of yourself, of him in relation to you. It felt like you’d always been there for him yet somehow you’d never really been there for him at all. Everything felt off kilter and the sadness in his voice ate at your insides. What you didn’t expect was for him to reach up to gently lay an ungloved hand on one of yours. Startled, you jump a little, frowning at your reflection in his helmet. 

“I need your help, cyar'ika,” he said suddenly, cutting through your shock and confusion. 

Cyar’ika. You dragged the translation from the deepest part of your brain. Darling. Sweetheart. It felt far more intimate than any other pet name you’d used for each other before. 

“Anything you want.” 

You rounded the sofa to stand in front of him, your body reflected at you through the beskar. You stared into that darkened ‘t’ curiously, trying to read him though the act was impossible. There was no way you could know what he was thinking without seeing his face. 

He took a deep breath. “Take off my helmet.” 

You froze. No, you recoiled at the request. You didn’t exactly mean to, but the request came so out of left field, you didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. 

“What? No.” 

“I want you to see my face.” 

“But…your Creed…” you floundered and trailed off. 

He didn’t say a word in response to that, staring up at you through his helmet, body still as a statue, intent on his request and clearly not wanting to back off from it. Your breath caught in your chest. If you did this, if you removed his helmet, you knew the implications. You knew he couldn’t put it back on again. But…maybe that was the point. His words earlier, the sadness laced in his tone. Realization hit you square in the chest. He’d taken his helmet off before. He must’ve. It confused you even more but now was not the time for questions. He was testing you. You didn’t want to find out what would happen if you failed the test. 

With a shaky breath, you took a step forward, then another one, then another until your thighs pressed against the bent curve of his knees. You tried not to let your thoughts run away with you when he spread his legs for you to step even closer. You swallowed thickly and your slender fingers found the edge of the beskar. It felt smooth under your touch, but you didn’t linger with that thought. If you stopped now, you weren’t sure you could do what he asked. 

You swallowed again then slowly began to lift his helmet. Inch by tortuously slow inch, you got your first look at him. Scruffy chin and cheeks, the brown beard flecked with gray, betraying his age. He was older than you or maybe the stress of his life up until then had caught up with him early. You didn’t know but you also didn’t care. Strong nose. It curved down at just the right angle. Soft looking tawny skin flecked with the light knicks of scars. Deep soulful brown eyes that met yours as soon as they were revealed. Maker and stars above you felt your knees go weak. 

As you lifted the helmet completely off, his mop of shaggy brown hair flopped onto his head. You almost laughed, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it back. Like his beard, his hair was beginning to gray a bit, but it was no less beautiful that way. You sat the helmet aside and immediately plunged your hands into that hair. The locks slid between your fingers, impossibly soft and surprisingly well taken care of. You watched as his eyes slipped closed at your touch, body swaying a bit as he reconciled with what was happening, what he was feeling as you touched him. You couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind.

You didn’t ask. 

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, sending shivers down your spine. 

Without the modulator, his voice was lighter, less deep but no less honeyed and sweet. It dripped over you easily. You could get used to this. 

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika.” You didn't quite get the pronunciation right, but he didn't seem to mind. 

All his beskar came off that night. The soup soon remembered when hunger drove you both to the kitchen table but then quickly forgotten again when, after having your fill, you made sure he breathed and relaxed even more. By the end of the night, you were grateful for the lack of marks and fabric burns on your skin, but you were even more grateful at the feel of his bare arms wrapped around you. You nestled close against him, unsure when you might get another chance like this again. You knew you had a short time with him. You knew as soon as the starfighter was finished, he’d be gone again. But for now, you had the memory of his skin against yours and the memory of how it felt to properly kiss him to keep you going. 

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I just wanted to take a moment to thank all the wonderful creators out there who write and put things out in the world for everyone to see. I love all of you so very much and I'm so happy to be in such great company. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[erensbich]

The Mandalorian

hiiii, i don’t know anything about digital art and art in general so please go easy. it’s my first time using procreate, i hope you like it. i know it’s a bit wonky from the reference i used but i’ve got a lot to improve on.

[heartidylla]

speak now — the story of us

din djarin x f!reader

summary : you and the mandalorian had a spark once before; however, it ended on horrible terms. two years later, you awkwardly cross paths once again. will you two be able to rekindle the love that still lingers?

warnings : cussing

everyone thank character.ai for playing din in this (i edited a bit of it.) next time i’m just going to write my own way, but this was interesting to try out and play around with!

speaking color coding

“” - din

“” - you

“” - others

"we're done, so just go! i don't need you anymore!" din's sharp words cut right through your heart as tears immediately swelled into your eyes, blinding your eyesight.

"well, fuck you too din." your voice practically breaking due to amount your chest had swelled up with an aching sickness. you could've sworn you felt a tear fall from your cheek as you ran off the landed ship, leaving the mandalorian and the kid that you bonded with all alone.

two years later.

the mandalorian can be a bit intimidating in appearance and is clearly armed, but this is still a public place and he's keeping his weapons holstered at the moment.

"another round for me and this little one," he says in a gruff voice. the tone of which makes the bartender jump into action, grabbing his bottle and starting to fill two glasses of alcohol in a hurry.

the mandalorian looks over at the "stranger", taking a sip of his beverage and staring him in the eye, trying to get a read on the person. the same stranger who has seen the best and the worst of him. now, you feel as if your galaxies away from him even if they're within the same enclosed space.

catching his gaze, you immediately was send back in time to the days where you used to think that one upcoming day you’d tell the stories of their love: how they met, and the sparks between them flew overhead instantly.

how people would turn there heads as they walked by with their hands interlocked with one another and say that they're the lucky ones.

how you always knew where your place was because he'd always keep a spot for you next to him. he always wanted you around, visa versa. they are completely head over heels in love with one another. the kind that completely rewires your brain and makes you see all sorts of new different shades of vibrant colors that were associated with only him.

now, your looking around the room for an empty seat trying to not look in his direction, to not even acknowledge his presence.

the mandalorian, having seen the expression on the visitor's face, lets a small smile form on his lips and bravely continues to stare at the visitor. he raises his glass as if in salutation, slowly nodding his head before letting his gaze drop to the floor, as if suddenly shy which caused for his smile to start slipping away.

he didn't know how to act around you after their big blowout. he wanted nothing more than them both to be friendly with one another. hell, even that wouldn't be enough for him since he desperately desired you back into his dangerous and chaotic life. you brought a sense of stability into it, and he's been going through the trenches ever since.

din, the mandalorian that you knew like the back of your hand and terribly loved as such, is a person full of contradictions. after all, he's a trained warrior, a bounty hunter who's tracked and killed or captured some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. he's feared in his own right, and now he appears to be intimidated by the girl he once had within his protective grasp.

you slightly smiled as the waitress showed you to your seat next to the window. you were sitting alone, thinking about what page that din was on with you. honestly, since the beginning he's always been a complex guy ... but it got to the point where it was completely unbearable.

a simple complication which followed multiple miscommunications that led to their fall out. there were so many things that you wished he knew about you, and how you felt when everything went down.

however, you weren’t ever able to break down those steel walls which the mandalorian built so high up in order to speak your inner feelings towards him.

the mandalorian eventually finishes his drink and as such he gets up without a word to anyone in the bar, turning and heading straight for the door. you watch din's armor clink as he moves, and suddenly all the other patrons in the bar are silenced as if someone turned down the volume on the entire room.

you noticed how everyone's eyes within the bar are directed onto the mandalorian. he's a mystery to them all, with his armor, his weapons, his silence. everyone except for her, which inflicted an aching within her chest as she came to the realization: the only person that knew you was him, visa versa.

he disappears out the door of the bar and his spurs jangle rhythmically against the pavement for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

he didn't say a single word to you after all this time. you were dying to know if the fact neither of them spoke for such a long period of time was killing him as much as it had been torturing you.

however, you didn't know what to say to him since it was all a twist of fate when everything broke down. the story which they had written together had become such a heart aching tragedy.

your eyes fell onto the cup of water, eyeing your reflection that was a mist onto it before heavily sighing. it looks like you need to move on to the next chapter of your life.

din walks quickly through the small city, making his way towards his ship. he keeps a hand on his side, at his blaster, making sure he's not robbed.

it's the wild frontier these days, even on a well travelled planet like this. din walks through the crowd silently and unemotionally, like a machine.

he keeps his helmet on, the expression on his face unreadable. it's hard to think of him as even human, as the face behind that helmet is completely expressionless. it is the face of a machine, the face of a killer.

how did the two of you end up this uncomfortable near one another? you remembered how in the bar he watched you closely as you nervously pulled at your clothes' cloth while trying to look busy, and then he left — doing his ultimate best to completely avoid you.

now your thinking that the day you tell the story of you both it'll all be about this horrible moment which led to their demise. how you were completely losing control of your mind as you watched him peacefully sit there without you beside him. he was gracefully holding onto his pride just as he should've been holding you..

din reaches his ship and climbs the ramp, entering the cockpit and beginning pre-flight checks. the ship is a state of the art ship, with the weapons and shielding systems of a warship and the speed of the quickest civilian transports, with the amenities that are a necessity for long-haul journeying, like a small personal room and bathroom.

as is necessary for a ship to house a mandalorian, there is a full suit of beskar armor in the ship's equipment locker and there's a weapons locker full of blasters, explosives, and other assorted items.

after seeing him leave, you suddenly rushed out of the bar as you knew exactly where to find him. you were terrified to see how this ended — how their love would die out as if it was bound to fall apart from the beginning.

why were they both pretending as if this was nothing to be concerned about..? as if neither of them were still bleeding from the wounds that they struck onto one another during their arguments?

you swear you’d tell him how much your heart craved his admiration once again .. but you didn't know how to say such silly words.

as you stood right in front of the window which you subconsciously knew he was there looking down at you within, you noted that you hadn't ever heard such silence that was quite this loud before.

it was starting to look as if this whole situation was a contest between them. one that determined who could act like they cared less than the other about how things ended with bad blood between one another.

though one things for certain, you liked life way better when he was on your side of it. when he was waiting for you .. knowing that you always felt a sense of safety and love by his side.

as you stood in front of the razor crest, you put the battle within his hands. if he came out here .. you’d put all the amour you had tirelessly handcrafted down if he said he chose to love one another again than continuously fight with one another.

you had so many things you wanted to tell him .. that you needed to get off of your chest, but if he chose to leave you as you stood in front of his ship ... the story of them would be ending very soon.

your begging eyes locked onto his, awaiting his choice. would he stay, or would he leave?

the mandalorian looks at you for what feels like years, a million different complex emotions going through his head, the two most prominent being longing and pain.

his heart is crying out for you. he desires you in his arms, but every memory of how their relationship ended causes him physical pain. how would they ever be able to reconcile? does either of them have the ability to yield completely to the other? are they two too far gone to ever go back to how it was again?

but then .. then he sees your desperation, your pleading eyes, your hopeful look.

"come here!" he suddenly shouts, his voice breaking over his emotions.

your heart leapt out of your chest as your once begging face rises into a brighter one.

he was willing to give them a second chance.

you quickly walked towards where he was descending from the ramp, standing in front of him with lips that slightly curved into a small grin. the sight of his shiny armor brought back loving memories, yet also the harsh ones that were still harder to swallow down as if the pain hadn't been healed just yet.

as much as he hates to admit it, but in the moment din's heart is racing. it always pulsed more than it should typically around you. he was succumbed to the anxiety and uncertainty of a new beginning.

even so, he slowly reaches out his arms and pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close enough to feel the pounding of your heart against his chest, just as his heart is pounding against yours. "i love you," he whispers in your ear, his voice breaking over the flood of emotion.

those were the first words he has said to you in over two years. the constant silence between them prior to this moment was obviously devastating for them both; however, both of their pride had been too strong for either of them to ever state their true feelings for one another.

as he held you close for the first time in two years, you felt as if you had finally returned home after an agonizing long journey. you melted within his grasp, molding yourself into him by wrapping your arms around his back and pushing his colder metal body into yours. "i love you too." you confessed, tears prickling into your eyesight.

din closes his eyes as he holds you, the feel of you in his arms comforting him.

"i thought i'd lost you," he admits, his voice cracking with emotion but there's no use in hiding it now.

he keeps his eyes shut and rests his cheek on the top of her head. "i do need you, and i'm so scared that i'll mess up and lose you again." he pulls her in more tightly.

"i thought that we were truly over with .. and that was the most difficult pill to swallow." you replied, your body began to tremble due to past moments as the pain from drowning herself in liquor those nights were still all too real for you.

din pulls you even closer, holding you securely in his embrace. "i couldn't see my life without you in it. the last two years have been the most painful time i've ever experienced. i know we've each got things to explain, but i don't know if i can be without you." he hesitates for a moment before saying, "i want a life with you. i want you to be mine, forever. that's all i need," he says, his voice breaking.

you gently smiled into his metal covered body as his words soaked into your mind. he wanted you, forever. "i want you forever too, din." you replied, lifting your head off of his chest and looking into his mask from below.

din kisses your forehead and pulls back, looking into your eyes. "my honor, my pledge to you is eternal; nothing will ever change that. you are my home. you are my universe, my life, my love. and i would do anything to hold you close and protect you, because you are worth that."

he pulls back a bit and looks to the sky. "i will always choose freedom, but my definition of freedom is to be with you, no matter the consequences; because when i'm with you, i'm free."

with only admiration into his helmet. he loved the way he was reflected in your eyes, and the certain sweet love that you felt for him. he knew he couldn't and wouldn't find that with anyone else.

they both wanted to be with one another for the rest of their lives, never to have such a horrible conflict between one another that would break them apart again.

they decided from that point on to talk about everything that made them insecure or intensely angered. they would talk through all of their disagreements instead of storming out and leaving the other to their despair.

they wanted to be better for one another, and they made sure to follow through with that idea. they both sealed the secret promise to one another by her slightly lifting the metal up just enough in order to expose his gracious lips to you, and stealing those as your own for the first time in two years with a soft peck onto them. you watched his lips closely after you moved away from him, slowly they curved into the most lovesick grin you’d ever seen him express before. you didn't even have to see his eyes to know that he was swooning over you.

[emberheartbeat]

THIS IS THE WAY

They make me so happy 🥺 💕

[possum-bility-ii]

😲 Bro is shocked

(I’m so excited for this new season!!)

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 6- Bondage

Boba Fett x fem!reader

Word count- 1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), restrains, dom!Boba, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Do you trust me, my love?” Boba purred.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Good.”

You looked up at him from your position on the bed as he peered down at you with pride. Boba had chained you to the bed, your wrists and ankles bound to the four corners, holding your body open and exposed. Your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“My love, you have never looked more beautiful,” Boba praised as he leaned forward and kissed you deeply. He cradled your head as he devoured you, and his cock stiffened at the sound of the chains rattling when you tried to move.

He let out a soft laugh as his bare hands roamed all over your chest, giving your breasts a firm squeeze. You dropped your head back and loudly moaned as his calloused hands grazed across your nipples. Arching your back into his touch, you silently begged for more.

“Eager already, love?” Boba teased as he broke away from your body to admire you once more.

“Please, Boba,” you begged.

“Shh, in time, love,” he said as he stood up, “All in good time,” he cooed as he slowly removed his armor and clothing. Boba enjoyed making you wait like this, and even when you just let out little whines, he could tell you were eager. And he felt your heavy, needy gaze on him at all times.

When Boba turned back to you, he was just as bare as you were, and his cock stood at full attention. You whimpered and strained in your chains as you involuntarily tried to reach for him.

“Boba…”

“Oh I like it when you beg for me, love,” his tone dropped as he kneeled on the bed between your bound, spread legs.

“Please,” you pleased more, hoping to get sympathy from him.

“Patience, love,” he purred as his hands ghosted along your legs. Starting at your hips, he trailed along your inner thighs out to your calves and reaching the shackles at your ankles before he ran his hands back towards your pussy.

You moaned as you felt his warm hands get closer and closer to where you wanted him to touch you, but let out a heavy sigh when he skipped your cunt and instead ran his hands up your stomach and cupped your breasts once more.

Any disappointment you had vanished when he kneaded your breasts with his hands, and then leaned forward and took one of your nipples in his mouth. You cried out in pleasure as you tugged at your restraints while Boba’s tongue swirled around your nipple. You writhed and squirmed as much as you could, but Boba tied you tightly to the bed, greatly restricting your movements.

“Fuck! Boba!”

He hummed as he kissed his way along your chest and sucked at your other nipple even harder, Boba used his teeth to graze the sensitive skin slightly a few times before he flicked it with his tongue once more. His cock screamed at him to fuck you- Boba loved when you were loud and needy for him like this- but he had other plans in mind for you tonight. His own pleasure would wait.

Breaking away with a loud pop, Boba murmured your name and waited for you to open your eyes. “You’ve been a good girl, my love,” he hummed in a tone that made your pussy clench, “And you look so deliciously tempting like this…” his voice trailed off as his eyes landed on your dripping cunt.

“Boba…” you murmured.

Instead of teasing you more with slow movements, Boba launched himself into your pussy, immediately licking and sucking at your clit. You screamed and tried to move your hips at the sudden assault, but the bonds kept you still and you were wonderfully helpless against Boba’s expert tongue.

Boba groaned into you as he devoured you. The chains rattled as you squirmed while his tongue explored your pussy, and the sounds mixed with your moans only turned Boba on more. 

“Fuck! Boba!” you cried out in pleasure as your mind swam. Heat built up in your body as your limbs shook in your restraints. You were helpless to move to free yourself, both from your binds and Boba’s mouth, and you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Boba broke away for a moment with a deep and heavy breath. He looked at you and you collapsed down onto the mattress and your breasts rose and fell as you also caught your breath. You looked stunning.

“Love, you are a meal fit for a king,” Boba growled before he dove into you again.

“Oh fuck!” you screamed in pleasure as Boba’s assault on your clit with his tongue resumed. 

He ran his tongue along your folds before he dipped it into you, tasting you from the inside and thrusting his tongue in and out a few times. With a needy groan, he placed his hands on your thighs to pin you down even more as he darted his tongue up and wrapped his lips around your clit.

Sucking hard, Boba hummed into your pussy and savored the cry you let out as tears formed in your eyes.

“Boba! Please! You’re gonna make me cum,” you moaned as your legs trembled.

All he did was groan into you as his cock throbbed with need, but Boba couldn’t break away from you. The sounds of your whimpers mixed with the chains was music to his ears and he devoured you with fervor.

With just a few more licks, you fell apart as you came hard into Boba’s mouth with a loud scream. He growled something that sounded like your name mixed with incoherent preside while he sucked every ounce of your climax from you until you let out a soft whimper.

Boba broke away reluctantly, but he was rewarded with the sight of you lost in pleasure and bound to the bed. He was wrong earlier, now you had never looked more beautiful.

“Love, I have a confession to make,” Boba’s tone was low as he licked his lips.

You blocked your eyes open and felt a wave of nerves from the way he looked at you with such admiration.

“I still need more,” Boba groaned as he hovered over you once more. 

“Boba…” you whined as you tried to wriggle free.

“What? Have somewhere to be?” Boba teased as he tugged at your restraints. 

You were in for a long and wonderful night.

[theewokingdead]

Mandokar

Chapter 18 of “Another Way” - Mandalorian x f!Reader

gif: @pedropascalsx

{Chapter List}

Mandokar – [MAN-doh-KAR] – the “right stuff”; the epitome of Mandalorian virtue – a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty, and a lust for life. Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader Summary: The Battle of Mandalore is here. Who will come out victorious? Rating: Mature Words: 12k+ Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, death, smut, mentions of pregnancy. A/N: Happy Mando Monday! Here it finally is: the final chapter of the main storyline. Thank you to everyone who has followed me on this journey. Thank you to @pedropascalsx for keeping me motivated and supporting me along the way, and making some phenomenal gifs. I hope you all enjoy.

She is the wife of the Mand’alor and the mother of the Mando’ade. In accordance with their marriage vows, she carries the same high honor and power as her husband. Though she is kindhearted and nurturing, she is the deadliest of the group, which earns her the highest respect.

-Unknown Mandalorian author

“You’re the Imperial spy.”

The man’s lips curl into a vulgar sneer, revealing pointy, carnivorous teeth.

“Spirited little thing, aren’t you?” he says in in the native language of Mimban.

“Why are you here?” you question, his language easily falling off your tongue, having worked with numerous Mimbanese mechanics and pilots. “Tell me!”

“The wife of the Mandalorian leader will fetch a pretty price from the Empire.”

Stirred by his words, you raise your blaster, the cold gleam of the black metal targeting him directly. Fear turns to anger, causing your body temperature to spike, your eyes narrowing in a hatred that’s as deadly as the weapon gripped firmly in your hand.

“Maybe you haven’t heard, but the Empire was defeated,” you say, your words laced with venom. “The war is over. The Emperor is dead. You’re fighting for a lost cause.”

“The Empire was destroyed only to be born again. The Emperor controls its every move from beyond the grave. It will rise again, and all its supporters will be rewarded for their loyalty.”

“Loyalty?” you question. “So that’s what you call betraying an entire nation of people.”

“No. You have yourselves to thank for that. The information received from Nevarro will, no doubt, lead to the destruction of your people. All this could’ve been avoided had you just accepted the peace and prosperity the Empire can offer.”

“Peace? This is chaos.”

“Chaos proceeds great changes, and we are on the threshold of a new era. Perhaps if you wish to cooperate buy providing more information, you’ll be rewarded as well. Perhaps it’ll be less harsh punishment, but a reward nonetheless.”

“Fuck you,” you spit. “What have you told them? What do the Imperials know?”

The bright-red skin of his face twists into another evil sneer. He utters a word in Basic, spoken with a strange inflection. A single word, but enough to justify your reaction.

Everything.

As soon as the word escapes his lips, you squeeze the blaster’s trigger, sending a yellow energy bolt screaming into the Mimbanese man’s chest. It opens a smoking hole there, hurling his body into the back of the captain’s seat before falling to the ground with a thump.

The scent of scorched skin pervades the air, putrid and rich, but it doesn’t bother you, confirming that he’s dead as you lower your blaster.

“Fuck.”

From the cockpit window, you watch Greef stride across the field toward Slave II, his posture mostly rigid. His arms swing exaggeratedly, and occasionally he looks around to ensure he isn’t being watched or followed. In that moment, it’s clear that warning someone not to raise suspicion only causes them to act in ways that make them look suspicious.

Minutes after he disappears from view, the door to the turbolift opens, revealing a concerned, confused Greef.

“I came as fast as I could,” he says frantically, sounding a bit out of breath. “I don’t understand. I thought- Dank farrik!” He nearly stumbles back, shocked by the unexpected guest on the floor. “What the hell happened? Are you alright?”

“He was spying for the Imperials,” you reply. His face scrunches in confusion, as if trying to make sense of what you said. “They know everything because of him. Everything we’ve ever discussed on Nevarro… They know.”

He stares at you for a moment before releasing a breath. “Damn,” he quietly swears, putting his fists on his hips and hanging his head. He shakes his head, like he doesn’t want to believe it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I swear I had no idea. If I had had even the slightest suspicion-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt. “I didn’t call you here to make accusations. I called you here because I trust you, and I need him out of my cockpit.”

Greef looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, seeming to contemplate his options. “I can off-load him but it’ll take more time than you have. You’ve already lost enough, and can’t afford to lose more.”

“What do you suggest I do then?”

Gesturing to the console, he insists, “Fly the ship.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’ll take care of him while you fly the ship.”

“I…No. No, I can’t ask you to go to Mandalore.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling.”

“What about Nevarro?”

“Mythrol can handle all the clerical work. He can keep the place from going to hell. There are far more pressing matters at hand. Now, fly the kriffing ship.”

After engaging hyperspace and setting the course for Mandalore, you help Greef take the body to the cargo hold, concluding that it would be better to freeze him than to let him rot. The mist from the freezing substance clears, revealing the lustrous gray block of carbonite that now entombs the body of the Mimbanese man, his frontside protruding slightly from the block’s flat surface. You can’t tear your gaze from the man’s frozen form, captured in incredible detail, from the scaley skin on his face to the sharp and clearly defined creases on his clothes. Even the fatal hole from your blaster bolt. He has the appearance of an unfinished statue, as if should be on display.

A trophy kill.  

Greef is the first to break the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you question, knowing there’s no reason for him to apologize to you.

“For this mess. Nevarro was supposed to be safe. Respectable. We worked so hard to turn it around. Washed away all the scum and villainy. Yet this was happening right under my nose.”

“I told you before that it isn’t your fault, Greef, and I meant it. Nowhere is completely safe, not as long as the Empire is still around.” There’s a trace of fear and sadness in your voice, which you bury beneath a faint layer of hope. “But soon, we’ll finally be free. We got him.” You gesture to the carbonite block. “Now we’ll get them all.”

He offers you a small, warm smile. “There’s the spunk I was looking for. I knew you had it in you.”

You return his smile, but say nothing else.

“How far are we?” Greef questions, once more breaking the silence.

“Several thousand light-years,” you reply, uncertain on the exact count.

“Which means we have a little free time on our hands. I guess there's no point in suggesting you use that time to get some rest though, right?”

A soft chuckle slips past your lips. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. But if you would like to rest yourself, you are more than welcome to use our quarters. There are also a few rooms on this level, as long as you don’t mind feeling like a prisoner.”

He returns a chuckle. “Nah. I’d rather prove myself useful by searching the comm channels – if you don’t mind, I mean.”

“It’s all yours.”

“Hopefully we can come across the frequency the others are using or, worst case, pick up a distress signal. It’d be suicide trying to establish a link ourselves now. Should the Empire intercept, they can pinpoint our exact location.”

You nod. “If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll intercept a signal ourselves.”

“I like your thinking.” Smirking, he turns to leave the room, but immediately notices you aren’t following. Stopping, he turns back. “Are you coming with me?”

You shake your head. “There’s something I need to do first.”

He nods then exits the room without further question, the door sealing shut behind him with a hiss, leaving you alone in the silence. Alone with the carbonite encased body of the man who wanted you dead – who wanted all Mandalorians and anyone else who resists the Empire dead.

Hanging your head, your swallow back the apprehension that threatens to overwhelm you. Your neck snaps back up, eyes narrow while looking at the figure before stepping closer.

“I hope you told them the part about Mandalorian women being a force of fucking nature. If not… Well, they’re about to find out for themselves.”

In almost ceremonial fashion, you slowly lower the shiny helmet over your head until it seals, putting the last of your armor into place and completing your transformation into a faceless warrior. Your age, gender, species are indeterminate, nothing distinguishable beyond your clan, signified by the Mudhorn signet on your pauldron - an archetype of war.

The world silences around you, but your breathing echoes loudly in the dome of the beskar helmet. Blinking, you activate the HUD and sound systems, and the ambient sound of the room floods in. Briefly, you explore the inner workers of your helmet, activating the tactical spot-lamp and then the mic. Selecting the diagnostic icon, a calibration tone sounds, and a line of readouts cascade down the HUD like an overlay on the world around you. Everything appears to be operating normally.

You hold up your left arm, admiring the vambrace and gauntlet that cover you. Like Din’s, it’s shiny and plain, a blank canvas that may one day tell your story – hopefully today is just the beginning.

Getting used to the feel of it, of your movements, you fling your arm out, somehow accidentally activating the wrist-mounted flamethrower, which spews an orange jet of fire.

“Shit!” you shriek, moving quickly to extinguish the flame. Fortunately, the room doesn’t contain anything flammable and there’s no damage minus a black spot on the wall where the flame hit.

“Oops,” you giggle, looking down at the gauntlet once more, in awe that you could do something like that.

It was a much-needed break in tension.

Grabbing spare laser charge pods and a few thermal detonators, you feel you’re as ready as you’ll ever be.

The turbolift’s door opens, revealing Greef sitting at the comm station, headset plastered to his ear while he slowly turns the knob, listening closely for something.

Anything.

“Any luck?” you question.

“None,” Greef replies, his voice like a concert inside your helmet. He sets the headset down in defeat. “No progress reports, no assistance requestions, not a single-” He turns from the station midsentence, his dark brown eyes widening the moment they lay on you. “Dank farrik! You scared the hell out of me.”

Grinning, you lift the helmet from your atop of your head and take it in one arm, hugging it against your side. “Well, I was going for fearsome warrior. I guess I succeeded.”

He chuckles while rising to his feet. “I thought you were Din for a second. Thought maybe he learned how to teleport.”

“Teleport?” you question with a laugh.

“I don’t know what kind of magic the kid taught you,” he replies, waving his fingers like he is trying to cast a spell.

Chuckling, you step closer to him. “It would be a pretty useful ability right about now.” You look down at the comm station. “So nothing, huh?”

“Not a single clear comm channel from the Mandalore system,” he confirms. “At this rate, we’ll be entering enemy territory without any communication, and I don’t like it.”

“We don’t really have a choice.”

Taking a seat, you adjust the power output, hoping that you can pick up some sort of signal. You begin at the top of the frequency list, lingering a moment and straining to hear some stable audio before moving on, but each frequency offers nothing more than white noise and bursts of static.

Eventually, you try to open a channel directly with first the Lambda shuttle then Slave I.

Both return with nothing.

“Are you sure it’s not broken?” you ask, trying to find reason for the silence. “Maybe that traitorous bastard did something to jam our signal. Nothing in or out.”

“You know as well as I that it’s fully operational,” Greef responds.

Your heart drops into your belly, feeling, for a moment, like you’re falling. Your jaw tightens, the bad feeling in the well of your gut seeming more justified the longer the silence continues.

“Maybe you were right,” you conclude, clinging to something that offers hope. “Maybe their comms were jammed.”

“Likely. Or they could they be cloaked.”

“No,” you reply, trying to remember the plans that had been laid out while on Nevarro. “I don’t know of any ships that would have a cloaking device. It’s unusual for small ships to have one. They use way too much power. Unless…”

You drop off, racking your brain for answers. Could Moff Gideon’s light cruiser – the one Bo-Katan had stolen long ago – offer them the protection they’d need?

“Unless?”

“The light cruiser could have enough power to create a cloaking field large enough to hide numerous starships. It’s sophisticated technology that the Moff, no doubt, would have interest in.”

Greef seems convinced enough. “Well, there you have it. If their comms aren’t jammed, surely they’re cloaked and maintaining radio silence.”

Folding your arms, you consider the possibility. “It’s possible. Plans change all the time, right?”

“And it’s a damn good plan. They can’t fight what they can’t see. The Empire wouldn’t know what hit them until it’s too late.”

The more you think, the more possible it seems. “Well, then, that’s the hope we’ll hold onto. If we can’t reach Mandalore in time to warn the others, we have to hope that they’ve already ran all the backup plans.”

“It’s not their first war, sweetheart,” Greef reminds you.

“I know. But hopefully it’ll be the last.”

Turning, you see the star streaks out the window. Eyes transfixed on the blue-colored characters that make up the script of the universe, you wonder if there’s some sort meaning in the lines, a revelation hiding in their glow. It's funny how hyperspace looks the same no matter where you are in the universe, and for a moment, you wonder if Din currently has the same view. It should be comforting, but it isn’t.

Greef tries to speak to you the rest of the trip from time to time, but his words bounce of your perception, ricocheting without your understanding. Eventually, he stops trying, the silence that falls between the two of you unnerving. You lose track of the slow passage of time, occupying yourself by running diagnostics on the ship’s systems, waiting for the computer to tell you that you’re nearing the Mandalore system.

In time, it does.

“Coming out of hyperspace,” you alert your passenger, turning off the alarm that alerts you of your approach. “Be ready.”

Readying yourself, you pull back on the lever that engages the hyperdrive. Coming out of hyperspace, the black overwrites blue, the light of a nearby star painting the interior of the cockpit in orange. Pushing a series of buttons and switches, the ion engines engage as you accelerate through the system.

“Let the fun begin,” Greef says.

You have no idea what to expect, and honestly, you’re not sure what you’re rather see: something or nothing at all.

“I’m see something up ahead,” you announce. “Can’t quite make any of it out.”

Before you can touch any controls, the scanner screen lights up. Turning your head to consult the display, you see the screen so ful of points of lights tagged “UNIDENTIFIED” that you can’t even put a pin between them.

“Ships?” Greef inquires.

“No,” you respond, confusion in your voice. “There are too many of them - and far too small.”

Hoping to get a better view, you squint your eyes while peering out the viewport. Suddenly, a fuzzy object grows and resolves. A drifting hunk of metal, like a ruined ship. Sparkling microscopic debris swirls around it in rapid, furious orbits. It looks like spinning garbage. An eerie howling fills the cabin.

Greef hovers beside you, joining you in trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. “Is that a…?”

“TIE Fighter? Sure as hell looks like it,” you respond, fluidly maneuvering through the field of wreckage.

“Hope that’s a good sign.”

“We’re about to find out.”

The scanner reports two ships – starfighters - which gives you some hope that they’re not hostiles. Immediately, you reach for the comm with one hand, navigating the ship with the other.

“Unidentified vessels, this is Slave II. Identify yourselves.” You should be anxious, but there isn’t a trace of it in your voice. You have no illusions that the transmission made it through. “Tion’cuy?” Who’s there?

There’s a soft hissing silence, and honestly you expected nothing else.

“Maybe the comms were jammed after all,” Greef admits.

If anyone would have the technology to block a signal in the space above a planet, it would be the Empire.

“They’re not engaging,” you note, watching as they fly away from your ship, seeming to surveil the area. “I think they’re letting us pass.”

Before you, the glowing orb of Mandalore hangs in the deep night of space. Its yellow sun crests behind the planet, and Mandalore’s horizon line lights up like it’s on fire.

“Entering atmosphere,” you announce.

The two of you watch the fire of atmospheric entry sheathe the ship, taking a steeper decent than normal, eager to enter as quickly as possible. The longer the approach, the more likely you’ll be noticed by someone less friendly. Slave II vibrates as it carves its way into the atmosphere, sliding through it like a vibroblade, ignoring the heat generating on its hull.

Dropping, you soon level the ship out, flying just below cloud level, low enough to avoid basic radar-based scanners but not too low for it to be dangerous. Consulting your datapad for navigation, you edge toward your destination, feeling through your hands the ship’s responses to being back in an atmosphere.

It is dark on this side of the planet, but you’re still able to make out the destruction below. It is worse than you could’ve ever imagined.

You had heard of the Great Purge of Mandalore long before meeting Din, though your knowledge of it came from what you read and heard. You remember watching the HoloNet News and hearing the reports, the demonizing of the Mandalorian people by the Empire and the eventual eradication of those who had threatened the peace and the stability of the Galactic Empire. The Siege of Mandalore, they had called it.

But holos were at a distance, imagination was limited by experience, and the promise of peace was a lie. Everything the Empire had said was a lie; you’ve known it for years. And thanks to those lies, very few people knew what happened to Mandalore. But now, you see the truth with your own eyes, and nothing could’ve prepared you for it. It’s startling to see how effective a miliary strike could be, and though you have seen plenty of combat, you’ve never been involved in a full-scale war.

Despite the ship’s quick passing, the devastation is still staggering. Any signs of civilization in the fields below were lost. The sunbaked, cracked soil of the surface is littered with craters, many so large that they could swallow small moons. Nothing grew, not even seedlings that usually emerge after a fire.

The nav computer hums and flashes, alerting you of your approach to Sundari. The level of devastation grows further. Very little of the city’s protective dome remains. The ruins inside are a charred, melted mess, holding lakes of rancid water, slivers of wrecked buildings pointing toward the sky.

The ship settles just outside the fractured dome, ticking and creaking as its engines wind down and the hull starts to cool. Usually, you like this part of a long flight, often times imagining that Slave II is sighing with satisfaction at a job well done and preparing to recharge its muscles. But this is nowhere near the end of a journey.

It’s only the beginning.

Heart pounding, ears ringing, you key the code for the ship’s hatch. With a hiss and a groan, the hatch swings down into a ramp. As the atmospheres equalize, a breeze swirls around, tossing Greef’s robes as he stands beside you. Even behind the helmet, you can smell the scents of burnt ozone, charred flesh, and unmistaken fear and death that fill the air. In the distance, the sounds of a battle unfolding don’t end. A plume of flame, flashes of blaster fire fill the night sky.

Sundari is a warzone.

Had the others successfully infiltrated the city? Or had they walked themselves right into a trap – a trap of their own design that they unknowingly laid in the enemy’s hand? Are those the sounds of the planned assault on the Imperials being successfully carried out? Or are those the sounds of a strong Imperial force mowing down any Mandalorian in their path?

Your stomach turns upside down and you swallow against the queasy lump that tries to form.

“Do you think the helmet comlinks working?” you question, turning to Greef. Every Mandalorian helmet is fitted with their own radios. Would they be affected by whatever is jamming the ship’s comm systems?

“Only one way to find out.”

Din rips open the large doors and advances into the room that once belonged to the Mand’alor. More black droids lurk inside, their soulless red photoceptors glowing in the darkness as they stand stoically guard. Though he’s badly outnumbered, he’s not afraid, confidence boosted by the dozens of Stormtroopers and Dark Troopers he slaughtered on his journey to the palace, in search of his final target: Moff Gideon.

The Dark Troopers fire repeatedly, bolts of red lambent energy that he easily bats away with the blade of his weapon, knocking them away as if he is swatting flies. A few rogue shots ping off his armor, the rest deflected with his blade, sending the red bolts into the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

Din brings the Darksaber around in a waist-high cut, slicing through the first enormous battle droid like Bantha butter. Continuing the move, he shifts his right wrist to raise the saber and uses a backhanded cut to decapitate a second droid. The blow pops the droid’s head off and sends it flipping through the air, landing somewhere in the darkness with a clunk.

Sliding forward to the next trooper in line, Din wastes no time in bringing the saber back to striking position. Gripping the hilt with two hands, he cuts from above, splitting the droid from outside shoulder to inside hip.

But the blow was a mistake and he knows it.

Though it was effective, it took a moment too long to cut through it and prepare his blade for another strike. Unexpectedly, he is forced backwards by a Dark Trooper who grabs hold of his right arm, twisting it until he drops the Darksaber. His body slams against the wall, narrowly avoiding one of the enormous shattered windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. The droid pins him, crushes him, making it difficult for Din to breath. He recalls the last time he was in a similar predicament, remembering how ineffective most of his actions had been. Fortunately, he knows what should do the trick.

thrusts it into the Dark Trooper's neck, cutting the exposed wiring, golden sparks shooting from the armor. He pushes the body away, allowing it to collapse to the floor.

The human pilot wasn’t the last weakness after all.

Deflecting blaster bolts with his armor, Din leaps over the fallen droid and swoops down to grab the Darksaber, then swings and slices a droid’s legs. As the droid falls to its knees, he grips the blade with both hands and swings down onto its helmet. He strikes out with the Darksaber, once, twice more, thrusting its glowing blade into the nearest droids. His glowing blade slashes through the air, effortlessly slicing through the armor, leaving the Imperial droids in smoking piles of junk.

Breathing hard, weapon still thrumming in his hand, Din quickly surveys the destruction. He had torn the droids apart. A bloodbath – without the blood. The room fills with a smoking stench of vaporized droid metal and components. Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm him, pain rolls through his body, but despite this momentary victory, he knows the battle is far from won.

“Impressive.”

The calm, electronically modulated voice comes out of the darkness behind Din, cutting through his thoughts and sending a shiver in his bones. He stills in silence, listening to the heavy footsteps creep behind him, watching the figure move in his helmet’s rear display

“Your skills with the saber have, no doubt, improved. If it offers you any assurance, Bo-Katan did not fight nearly as well when she lost the very same saber - to me.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need your assurance.”

Din turns to face Moff Gideon, his shadowy figure stepping into the moonlight. His hands are empty, as if trying to give the impression he is not a threat. The last thing Din feels at the sight of the man is threatened, buried deep beneath his seething rage. Gideon’s usual gear is gone, replaced by blackened armor. He dons a matching helmet with large horns, which reminds him of the Armorer, the edges of his T-shaped visor painted red. The man who has the blood of thousands if not millions of Mandalorians on his hands is now attempting to steal their culture.

The sheer audacity spurs Din’s fury, his grip tightening around the hilt of the Darksaber.

“You are disgrace,” Din spits. “You are a coward, hiding in fear behind the spoils of a massacre. You don’t deserve the honor of wearing beskar.”

“If that’s your way of asking me to remove the armor, I cannot. You and I both know you will strike me down the moment I’m exposed.”

“This is where it’s going,” Din says, mimicking the words the Moff had said to him the first time they crossed paths on Nevarro. “You take it off or I will. If you choose the latter, I will do so after striking you down with the Darksaber. Either way, you die.”

A cold chuckle rings through Gideon’s modulator, and Din imagines a smirk hidden beneath the helmet. He takes a step forward, an attempt to close the distance between them. “You may think you know how this will go, but you do not. You don’t even have the slightest clue. Any minute now, a Pursuer-class enforcement ship known as Slave II should be making its descent onto Mandalore - if it hasn’t already, that is. I’m certain I don’t have to tell you who is on that ship and the dangers she faces if this little insurrection continues.”

Blood surges through his veins, but he remains silent, entertaining Gideon’s proposal.

“Surrender to me now, and no harm will be done to her or your unborn child,” the Moff continues. “Should you try to kill me and fail, you will not be allowed to surrender and will instead act as an example of what happens when you defy the Empire. Should you attack and somehow succeed in killing me, then I assure you that someone will take my place. Someone will continue the fight. You will be hunted down and slain. You will be killed. Your family will be killed. But the Empire will live on.”

Gideon pauses before continuing, “People are going to die, Din, no matter what. But their deaths should not be pointless. It should be for the right cause. The power and strength of your people is nothing short of admirable. It lies in their willingness to maintain ideas and uphold strict codes of morality. There is security in strength, and order in obedience. So, I give you one last chance. Cooperate with the Empire - or die.”

If there’s anything Din has learned from Gideon, it’s not to trust him. He doesn’t entertain the idea of surrendering – not even for a second.

“The only one dying is you,” he retorts.

Gideon gives a short, malicious chuckle. “Very well.” He reaches behind his shoulder and draws a shiny silvery spear, similar to the one slung over Din’s back.

Suddenly, the origins of his own makes sense to Din, how the Imperial governor on Corvus came in possession of it. The Imperials have been using the ore from Mandalore to produce weapons and armor, trying to rebuild their army, trying to be invincible.

“Then today will be the day that the Mandalorians are erased from existence,” the Moff concludes, preparing himself to strike.

Assuming a fighting stance, Din raises the Darksaber, the weapon thrumming steadily in his firm grip, wrists locked. “We’ll see about that.”

Din lunges forward, and Gideon meets his charge, bringing the spear up fast. The Mandalorian raises the saber and blocks the attack. Gideon swings again and again, but Din parries each blow. Parrying another of Gideon’s overheard slashes, the two weapons meet and maintain contact. Sparks fly as they keep their weapons braced against each other, the impact sending painful vibrations shooting up the Mandalorian’s arms and into his shoulders.

Weapon-to-weapon, they are almost mirror images of one another. But they couldn’t be any more different.

Over the humming of his blade, Din can hear the Moff’s labored breathing, knowing that he is already wearing himself out. He also knows that defeat will come from a single mistake, and decides to let go of every distraction, of everything in his mind. His hopes. His fears. His obligation to the Mandalorians. His promises to Grogu. His promises to you.

Freeing his mind and channeling everything into his sword, Din breaks contact and swings hard at Gideon, but Gideon evades the black and white glowing blur of his foe’s weapon and jumps backwards.

Though he has control over his blade, Din cannot control or even predict what his enemy will do. The beskar spear cuts and stabs, always missing Din by centimeters when he doesn’t parry it aside. Gideon, meanwhile, swirls the spear around to parry Din’s lunges and bat away his slashes. They’re perfectly matched. Neither give any ground. Neither can penetrate the other’s defenses.

Din feigns low and unleashes a vicious overhand blow, then another, and another. The Imperial parries each one, and though it’s clear that the blows began to numb his arms, he still manages to answer with blows of his own. Gideon cross-cuts at Din’s knees, but the Mandalorian leaps over the slash, using an overcut to drive the tip of the spear to the once-polished floor. Din spins, angling his glowing blade for Gideon’s neck.

Gideon lurches backward, but the tip of Din’s sword opens a gash on his arm. Staggering, gasping, Gideon swings wildly at his opponent. Once recovered, he charges, attacking high, low, overhead, cross-cuts. Backing off, Din parries them all. Gideon does not relent, pressing him further, faster. Din answers when he can, but it seems like the spear is everywhere all at once.

And that’s when Din hears it - a voice ringing through his helmet comm. He misses the name as the speaker identifies herself, but the voice is unmistakable, despite speaking with a military efficiency he’d never heard before as she announces that she’s landed outside of Sundari.

“Does anyone copy?”

His breath hitches against the back of his throat, and for a moment he thinks he’s imagining things. But then the line is repeated, and it’s clear that his suspicions are correct…. That there was some truth to Gideon’s words.

“Riduur?” Din questions aloud, but since he hadn’t toggled the switch to his mic only Gideon can hear.

Suddenly, pain explodes from Din as the tip of the spear spills into his abdomen, having pierced his armor. Din falls to his knees and Gideon yanks the weapon free, smacking against his foe’s arm so Din flings the Darksaber across the room, sparking and smoking against the floor.

“Well,” Gideon sneers, standing over Din with the spear pointed at his throat. “This will make things more interesting.”

The speaker crackles with static. No response. You don’t expect one. Not immediately. Not at all. You identify yourself once and wait. Finally, an unfamiliar feminine tone breaks through the static.

“Copy, my lady.”

Several voices follow, repeating the same phrase. You’re overwhelmed by the number of responses, your heart leaps in job, but none are the voice you’re hoping for.

A private message light appears on the display of your helmet, and you switch to the channel. Before you can speak, a familiar growl rumbles through the speaker.

“Do you have a death wish, little one?”

A chuckle falls from your lips as you exhale, releasing a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. “Fett. I’ve never been happier to hear your voice.”

“I can’t say the same,” Boba says in an irritated tone. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” you reply, knowing there are more pressing matters than explaining what brought you here. “Where’s Din?”

“I can’t say, little one. He went radio silent before going to find Gideon. He didn’t wa-”

“He did what?” you question, your tone dripping with disbelief. You turn to Greef, who looks at you in confusion, only able to hear your side of the conversation. “With who? Bo-Katan?”

“No,” he replies bluntly. “Alone.”

A mixture of shock and confusion mutes you, your eyes focused on the flashes in the smoke billowing from the ruined city. Why would he go alone? Any number of things could go horribly wrong. What if he gets overwhelmed? What if he gets seriously injured?

Why did the plans change?

“-run like rats,” you heard Boba speak, catching the tail end of whatever he had said.

“What?” you question, forcing yourself out of your trance.

“The plan. His plan. ‘We take out the head imp, the rest will run like rats.’”

Those words… Where had you heard them before?

It takes you a moment to remember.

Cara.

It’s what she had said on the trip to Nevarro in regards to the ex-Imperial Officer who was after Grogu. But, it turned out, he wasn’t the head Imperial…Gideon was – is.

Is Din sticking to Cara’s original plan?

“I’m a little busy here pushing back some Imps, but-”

“Where is he?” you question, interrupting him. “Where’s Gideon?”

“Do you really thi-”

“I’m doing this with or without your help, Fett,” you interrupt forcefully, your adamant tone telling him that now is not the time to argue. “How can I find Din?”

.

A frustrated sigh comes through the speaker. “Fine. You have the maps?”

“Yes,” you reply. Tapping of a button on the side of your helmet, the HUD responds by superimposing a map of the surrounding area on the screen of your visor. A blue dot signifies where you’re standing.

“Gideon’s holding up in the palace, hiding behind an army of droids like the scared little rat he is.”

Droids?

Dark Troopers, no doubt. If they’re anything like the ones on the light cruiser… Shivers run down your spine.

“Shit,” you utter under your breath, closing your eyes tight, trying to regain composure.

“There’s an access point to the Undercity on the east side.”

With a tap of another button, the map changes to show the Undercity, a system of tunnels and sewage points beneath Sundari. Your eyes trail along the east side of the map, looking for the entrance. Finding it, you drop a red point, a path lighting up on your display.

“I see it.”

“Follow the tunnels to an exit point right outside the palace. If you don’t find Din along the way… Well, certainly his path of destruction will lead you to him.”

“Got it.”

“Comms won’t work down there, but you shouldn’t run into any problems.”

“Good.”

“If you do…put on a damn good show.”

“Don’t worry. I will.

Standing at the mouth of the tunnel outside the city, you switch on the light attached to your helmet, igniting a flame that gutters in the night before revealing the shadowy depths of the capital’s Undercity. Beside you, Greef pulls out a hand-torch and points the beam inside, and though the light is weak, its presence gives you some sort of psychological comfort.

The optics in your helmet adjusts to the change of light. Ahead of you looms a long, rounded tunnel, disappearing in an endless darkness beyond the reach of your light. You watch for any movement, the blaster fire from the city above making it impossible to discern any noise coming from within, but see nothing.

Taking a deep breath and curling your fingers around the blaster in hand, you gather the courage to enter, an armed Greef at your side.

The tunnels are bigger than you expected, at least three times higher and wider than you are tall. The stone walls are cold and covered with a sheen of dampness and some sort of green algae. The air that wafts into your helmet smells slightly of mildew. After several yards, you come to an intersection. Backing up against the wall, you pause to listen, but only hear your own breathing and the rhythm of your heart. Slowly, you ease forward to peek around the corner.

Nothing. Only another empty tunnel that leads to darkness.

“Clear on my end,” Greef reports.

“Clear. Let’s keep going.”

You continue forward, treading carefully and feeling each step as you move. Neither of you speak, your heart pounding furiously and throat dry. The air you breathe seems to become heavier. There’s a bizarre silence that filters out all incoming sounds from the outside world.

Turning a corner, you come across the first sign of the fighting: bodies. Stormtroopers. Several of them.

Suddenly, fear flows through your body. Staring, shivering, you fully realize what fatal danger lurks in these passageways and the streets above.

“This sure as hell wasn’t blaster fire,” Greef quietly notes, stating the obvious. Several of the troopers’ limbs were cleanly severed, another sliced in half.

“No,” you reply, your heart fluttering with hope. You close your eyes for a moment, as if trying to reach out and find something to alert you to his presence, silently relieved by your findings.

Din is here. Closer than you imagined.

“Well, at least we know we’re headed in the right direction,” Greef adds, reminding you of the task at hand.

“C’mon,” you reply, beckoning him forward. “This way.”

Your heart is beating faster now, driving you forward. Gingerly, you step over the bodies of the dead, careful not to trip. Somehow, the taste of smoke and death reach your mouth, leaving you feeling uneasy.

Everything seems to be quiet enough. You pass several more similar scenes, but you pick up your pace, feeling a bit more confident that the Undercity is empty and not wanting to waste any time getting to Din.

“Map says we’re nearly to the exit.”

Jogging through another intersection where two tunnels connect, you don’t immediately see it –the false sense of security created by the silence blinded your senses to their presence.

A flash of white catches the corner of your eye, but they’ve seen you before you manage to see them. A squad of stormtroopers, blasters at the ready, emerges from the darkness at the end of the passageway. The lead trooper raises and blaster and fires, but you leap forward to safety, slamming your back against the wall.

Shit!

The shot is a clear miss, disappearing into the darkness down the tunnel.

Greef remains on the other side of the cross corridor. He eases to the corner and grabs a quick glance around, throwing himself back as the air between the two of you fills with blaster fire, their whines echoing off the walls.

“So much for being clear!” Greef shouts.

Fuck, you think clearly, time slowing to a halt around you. You couldn’t seem to get a breath in, a nauseated stunned emptiness filling you. Fortunately, your mind manages to function logically in a crisis.

You’ve got a blaster. Use it.

Finger tight on the trigger, you round the corner, level the blaster at a trooper, and shoot. The first shots hit him in the knees and drop him back into a fellow trooper. You’re amazed you actually hit him, but don’t have time to dwell on your achievement.

The corridor’s lit by the back and forth of half a dozen blasters. The Stormtroopers bring their blasters up over and over but only managing to trace lines of fires into the walls. The shots that manage to hit your body merely ping off the armor.

You shift aim to another assailant, the shot angling upward just enough to pass between his breastplate and the bottom of his helmet. It takes him square in the throat, and he lets out a chocked gurgle before dropping to his knees.

Greef yelps as a blaster bolt scorches across his sleeve, then twists back to safety.

“Stay back!” you yell across the corridor, feeling you’re better equipped to handle this.

“And let you have all the fun?” Greef questions. “I don’t think so!” He swirls back around, popping off shots toward the enemy line.    

A sudden tingle of danger in the back of your mind saves your life. You drop to a knee, and as soon as you do, a pair of bolts from behind flash into the stonework where you had been. Hot splinters of stone scatter across you. Your eyes and blaster quickly track where the shots had come from, getting off two quick shots the moment you see more troopers, moving quickly down the opposite side of the corridor.

Fuck, they’re flanking.

“Looks like they will be plenty to go around,” you shout to Greef,

Shifting to a two-handed grip and trying to ignore the shots that are getting uncomfortably close, you line up your blaster to the right most assailant and fire twice. He jerks and collapses to the floor, his blaster still firing reflexively and uselessly toward the ceiling.

“You alright?” you call to your companion.

“This is nothing!” Greef replies. “I can handle them. You go on.”

“What?” you question.

“You’re wasting valuable time,” he shouts between firing, echoing what you had said to him on Nevarro. “Go find Din. I’ll be fine here.”

Squeezing the trigger of your blaster several more times, you consider your options. A little voice of reason is screaming “No!” in the back of your head, telling you to stick together, to take the time to take down the groups before continuing on.

He went to find Gideon, a voice reminds you. He’s alone. What if something happens to him?

“We’ll come back for you,” you assure him before turning and running down the channel.

It’s another error, not being more careful.

Nearing the end of the tunnel, the light at the exit growing brighter, you see more troopers.

“There she is!” one calls.

Stretching your blaster in front of you, you shoot, watching them fall while ducking and deflecting shots. Jumping into a side corridor to shield yourself from more blaster fire, you don’t see the two Stormtroopers hiding there. Nor do you see the vicious attack that slams your head back against a wall, your head cracking against your helmet. For a split second, you’re conscious, willing yourself the strength to fight, but the pain crashes over you in waves. The blaster rolls uselessly from your grasp and you slid down the wall into a heap on the Undercity floor.

The cool, stale air hits your face as you feel your helmet ripped from your head.

“We got her.”

Everything goes dark.

“Ah, there she is.”

Despite your dazed state, you recognize the voice, which sends a cold shiver down your spine. The stormtroopers release you from their grip and toss you forward, causing you to stumble and fall to your hands and knees, landing heavily. Your hands keep you propped up by nothing more than remembered terror.

“Just the person we were waiting for.”

Your hair hangs in your face, sticking to the sweat on your skin. Blood pumps to your head, throbbing at the back, and you try to make sense of what is happening, praying it is only a bad dream.

“Now, she can watch as I bring her husband’s life to an end.”

A trooper grabs you by the hair and yanks you back, lifting your head and bringing you to your knees before you can even think to move. You yelp in pain, your eyes close.

“No!” Din yells, his voice hoarse.

Squeezing your eyes tighter, a tear falls freely. No, you think, refusing to believe what’s happening.

“Let her go!”

Opening your eyes, you observe your surroundings. Though it’s poorly illuminated, you can tell the room is large and was once grand, now littered with heaping piles of smoking metallic garbage, glass littering the floor beneath the broken windows that reach the ceiling. Two stormtroopers stand a comfortable distance away from Din, looming over him with blaster rifles in their hands, ready to strike if ordered; a similar scene, no doubt, looms behind you.

Din is on his knees, his body slumped. One hand is pressed to his side, stained with blood. A blaster bolt wouldn’t have caused so much blood. His nose is also bleeding as well, a cheek bruising, another lined with a cut, his hair matted with sweat.

In front of Din stands Gideon, donning armor he doesn’t deserve and holding the weapon that you last saw in the possession of Din: the Darksaber.

“Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt her,” Din begs. “Please.”

Looking at Din, you softly shake your head, causing more tears to fall, wishing you could stop him from speaking.

Gideon grins happily at Din’s performance, obviously pleased.

“Her fate is entirely up to her,” Gideon responds. He turns to you and steps closer to where you’re on the floor. “I have given your husband every opportunity to cooperate. He has resisted my offers of reasonable negotiation, and in doing so he has rejected peace, security, and prosperity. I’m afraid he has left me no choice. Anyone who is unwilling to serve the ends of the Empire must be destroyed. And now, I extend the same offer to you. Serve the Empire or die.”

“Fuck you,” you spit without second thought, fire in your voice.

A trace of anger appears on Gideon’s face. He glares down at you for a moment before responding with a backhanded slap across your cheek.

You feel as if your cheek has exploded. Through the spots of flashing lights, you see Din attempt to stand but fall, angrily yet weakly shouting, “Stop!” The surrounding stormtroopers laugh at his struggle and your pain.

Din is doubled over on the floor once more, breathing with difficulty. He looks up at Gideon and says, “If I tell you where he is, will you let her go?”

“Where is he?” Gideon snarls, snapping back to Din.

“Let her go, and I’ll give you the coordinates.”

Looking across at Din, you furrow your brows in confusion. Who could they be looking for?

Grogu…

Shaking your head once more, you whisper, “No. You can’t.”

“Just let her go,” Din repeats.

“Din, please,” you implore. “Don’t beg to him. He will never find Grogu. He won’t even make it off this planet alive.”

A stormtrooper behind you kicks you in the back, forcing you forward on your hands. “I’d shut your whore mouth if I were you.”

A blaster sounds, and the trooper thumps to the ground, Gideon having shot him as a reminder to the few others who is in charge.

“Tell me right now where he is,” Gideon demands irritably, obviously growing impatient. He whips back around to Din, blaster in one hand, Darksaber in the other.

“Lothal,” Din immediately responds. “The old Jedi Temple on Lothal. Training with Luke Skywalker. I will take you there. Just let her go.”

“Liar!” Gideon shouts, the blaster violently bashing upside Din’s head like a steel hammer.

The force of the hit causes Din to fall to the ground, writing in pain.

“Don’t lie to me,” the Moff threatens.

“I don’t know where he is,” Din sputters.

Gideon scowls. “Then you are of no more use to me.”

“Stop it!” you shout, your voice coming out in a deep growl. “You’re losing and you know it. You’re desperately clinging to the last thread of control you have. It’ll be severed today, and if you kill Din, you’ll only further solidify that fact. You’ll make him a hero, and all of Mandalore will rally together to avenge his death.”

“I will wipe him from history,” Gideon replies. “I will wipe all of you from history.”

“You’re already dead, Gideon,” you continue, sitting up on your knees stoically. “You know it, I know it, everyone here knows it. You will not survive to see tomorrow.”

“Riduur…,” Din pleads, his voice weak from the loss of blood.

“No!” you shout to your husband before looking back at Gideon. “He is dying. Let him go, let him be saved, and your mercy will not be forgotten. You want to be like the Mandalorians? Show you have some fucking honor.”

Gideon looks as if he’s considering your words for a moment. Your heart hammers through your chest, your eyes never leaving the Moff. Your soul fills with refusal, with despair that you’d come so far only to see Din on the verge of death. You will not accept this twisted fate.

“It’s too late for negotiations, you silly girl,” Gideon informs you.

Your heart immediately drops, falling to the bottom of your stomach like it’s lead-filled and no longer capable of beating.

“No,” you say, first coming out as a whisper. “No! You can’t! You can’t do this! You’ll pay for this!”

“Riduur,” Din calls weakly.

“I’ll kill you myself,” you threaten, trying to stand, but you’re once more pushed to the ground, left to sob, feeling completely powerless.

“Riduur…”

Shaking your head, you refuse to look up, tears falling to the polished stone floor below you.

“Please.”

Swallowing a sob, you lift your head to look across the room and into his glazed, pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, cracking with emotion. There isn’t an echo, his sorrowful words fading into silence almost before they’re spoken, like stones thrown into a bottomless pit.

Gideon raises the Darksaber slowly, almost ceremoniously. The weapon thrums loudly, prepared to slash. “Long live the Empire.”

An ultra-deafening crack rips through your eardrums. The explosion blows open a blocked door on a side wall, filling the area with smoke and the bitter taste of thermite. A handful of Mandalorians pour through the opening, the air filling with laserfire, the barrage of fire shrieking by your ears and filling the room with sparks and heat.

You have a split second to react - and you use it. With a sweeping kick, you knock the nearest trooper’s feet from under him, and he falls heavily. His blaster discharges before flying out of his hand, sending a bolt pinging into the nearest wall, a shower of sparks raining down onto the floor.

Desperate, you scramble to where the weapon skittered across the floor, taking it in your hand and putting a pair of blaster bolts in the trooper’s head before he can reach you. Quickly, you aim to find your next opponent, but find…none.

“Clear!” a modulated voice calls.

With a clang, the blaster falls from your hand as you start to run to your husband's side, realizing it's safe.

“Din!” you shriek, falling to the floor to assess his injuries.

“Get a medic in here!” a familiar voice barks, though you don’t process it, only caring about one person.

“I’m fine,” Din grunts between sharp breaths.

“You are not fine,” you insist, moving to remove his hands. “Let me see.”

He allows you to see the vicious wound Gideon’s spear left. Through ripped armor and garments, you see what looks like a gaping mouth spewing blood pierced into his skin. It’s deep, and you wonder if it’s a miracle that he’s still alive. It’s also a miracle that it didn’t seem to pierce anything vital.

“Dank farrik,” you utter under your breath.

“I need him to lay back.”

You look up at a Mandalorian with a red sigil on her white pauldron, signifying her status as a medic.

With a nod, you scoot behind Din, helping to ease him over on his back so that his head rests comfortably on your lap.  

“Shit,” Din seethes as the medic begins her work.

Softly, you stroke his brow, trying to smooth the frown away. The warmth of his skin is comforting, happy to find he seems neither feverish nor cold, though he’s shivering and a bit clammy.

“Shh,” you console. “It’ll be okay.”

“W-where’s the kid when you need him?” Din questions, a little chuckle still left in his voice.

A small smile quirks about your mouth. “He’s off doing Jedi stuff, so the doctor here will have to do. Try to be still. Talk to me.”

“Y-you’re crazy. You know that?” Din questions, forcing your smile to widen.

“I know,” you reply simply. “But I take comfort in knowing I’m not the only crazy one in this relationship. Tell me what happened.”

“I…I don’t know,” he says, his eyebrows skewed. “I guess my luck finally ran out.”

“Not today, Mand’alor,” the medic chimes in. “You’re going to live to see another day.”

“And many more after,” you add, softly stroking his hair.

“Why are you here, cyar’ika?” Din asks, not allowing silence to fall between you.

A thoughtful frown skews your eyebrows, wondering if you should tell Din everything know or save some for later. “I found the Imperial spy,” you reply. “He told Gideon everything. No one was answering my calls, and I couldn’t let you fall into a trap.”

“I’m sorry. We went silent,” Din responds. “We… We assumed Gideon knew everything, and Bo came up with a plan to devise fake plans of attack, hoping that Gideon would be fed false information.”

“And he was,” Bo-Katan chimes in, approaching the two of you, helmet in her hand. “Imagine the Imps’ surprise when nothing went according to plan.”

You’re in shock. “I…What? You…you knew?”

“Not until I was on Lothal,” Din says.

“We assumed,” Bo-Katan clarifies. “And we were right. Sorry we couldn’t keep you in the loop, but we couldn’t risk any communications getting intercepted.”

“I…it’s okay,” you say. “I understand.”

Your mind swirls. Should you have just trusted that everything would be okay? Was it a mistake coming here? Had you only done more damage?

“Fuck! Greef is in the Undercity,” you blurt out, remembering you didn’t come alone. “We were flanked by troops. I left him to find you.”

“Find him,” Bo-Katan barks to a couple Mandalorians standing nearby. “Take out any stragglers.” She looks back down out Din, holding out the hilt of the Darksaber for Din to take. “Here. Stop trying to lose the damn thing.”

Din stares up at her, confusion on his face. “I…I already did,” he responds. “It belongs to you.”

“What?” Bo-Katan questions, confusion clouding her voice.

“It must be won in combat,” he replies between grunts of pain. “Gideon won it from me, and you won it from Gideon.” He gestures to the body of the Imperial Moff lying on the ground.

Bo-Katan looks from the body to the hilt of the saber in her hand, obvious disbelief on her face.

“The Darksaber is yours, Bo,” Din encourages. “Mandalore is yours. You killed the man who destroyed it. That makes you Bo-Katan Kryze…Te Gra’tua Mand’alor.”

Mandalore the Avenger.

She turns to the remaining Mandalorians in the room, and in response they bow their heads, confirming what Din has said. They all witnessed it – Bo-Katan Kryze delivered the final shot to Moff Gideon. She is Mand’alor.

Bo-Katan tights her grip around the hilt and her posture stiffens, her chest puffing beneath the blue armor. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.” She turns back to Din. “You are no longer bound by Creed. You are a Mandalorian, and always will be. Everyone is free to define what that means as long as we remember that we are all sons and daughters of Mandalore.”

The golden sunrise breaks the horizon before you, washing away the darkness of night, giving you the first good view of the once-great city. Various towers somehow managed to survive the bombings over the last decade despite the damage they sustained. The shattered glass and scorched stones serve as a reminder that Mandalore can be battered, bruised, and temporarily subdued - but never defeated.

Mandalore will survive…We always survive.

The Mandalorians survived.

Din survived.

You survived.

Hands gripping the metal railing in front of you, you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of the cool breeze on your cheeks. Though you’re not certain what the future holds, you’re not afraid, confident in feeling that the best has yet to come. The future will be free of your past woes. No longer will you have to fear the tyranny of the Empire.

Turning, you leave the balcony and step back into the Sundari throne room. Sitting in the throne atop the raised platform is Din, an elbow propped on the armrest, chin in his hand, looking at nothing.

“I wouldn’t let Bo-Katan catch you sitting in that,” you jest while approaching the throne. “She might think you’re plotting to overthrow her.”

He chuckles quietly, his eyes moving to find you. “It’s all hers.”

Sitting on the arm of the chair, you run your fingers through his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” he replies plainly, his worst injuries likely healed by now thanks to the bacta. “But I can manage. I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Nothing a little bacta couldn’t fix,” you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.

“And this one?” he questions, a large hand spreading over your lower abdomen, where your growing belly is hidden beneath armor padding.

“She’s strong,” you reply, placing a hand on his. “A fighter – just like her father.”

“And her mother.”

You exchange smiles.

“I think this belongs to you.”

Reaching behind your neck, you untie the leather cord, carefully pulling the pendant from where it rests beneath your flightsuit. Then, you place it around Din’s neck, carefully tying it, letting the pendant rest on the fabric of his cape.

“I kept my end of the bargain, too,” he said, transferring your bracelet from his wrist to yours. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay on Nevarro.”

“I understand why you did,” you reply. “Just as I’m sure you understand why I couldn’t stay.”

He nods, his eyes full of remorse as he softly affirms, “We’re vulnerable when we’re apart.”

“Together, though, were unstoppable,” you add.

Leaning down, you kiss his mouth, just once, placing the softest kiss on his lips. His hands find your hair, his mouth rough against yours as he kisses you back. Foreheads locked together, your warm breaths hover in the air between you like your own intimate world.

“What do we do now?” you question.

“I should help the others.”

“You’ve done more than enough already,” you assure him. “More than anyone should’ve ever asked you to do.”

“It was my duty. I denied it for far too long. Now, my duty is only to you to as a husband and to Shae as a father.”

Wiping a stray strand of hair from his forehead, you say, “The universe is ours, Mando. We can do anything we want. But for now, I think you and I both deserve a shower and some sleep.”

Neither of you say a word as the two of you strip down, leaving your armor and soiled clothes in a pile in the middle of the floor of your sleeping quarters on Slave II. Din is the first to undress fully, disappearing into the refresher to switch on the shower. He leads you in, placing you beneath the heavy flow of warm water. You close your eyes, allowing the water to flow down your body, enjoying the warmth as it permeates through you.  

Goosebumps form on your skin when Din begins to wash your body. Relaxing your muscles, you let him touch you gently, lovingly. His hands run over your arms, along your shoulders, down your back. Reeling in the feeling of your husband’s rough hands on your wet skin, you let out a soft moan and arch into him. His hands slip across your belly, sliding down to your soft curls, but no further. He runs kisses along your neck.

Touch me, you want to say, but you remain silent, relishing the moment.

Then he’s washing your hair, the smell of shampoo filling the shower stall. His hands slowly massage your scalp, and you can’t help but groan in pleasure. He rinses the shampoo from your hair, and when he’s finished you turn to him, taking the soap in your hand to return the favor.

Carefully, you glide along the front of his body, admiring every inch of him. His shoulders are broad. His arms defined. His chest is strong. He wears several new scrapes and bruises, and you’re careful not to touch them. When you reach his abdomen, you’re mindful of his healing wound, careful to avoid the waterproof bacta patch, eyes transfixed to it. He must’ve seen your eyes furrow in worry.

“Riduur?” he questions.

A sob is stuck in your throat as visions of Din bleeding on the floor creep into your mind. Swallowing hard, you take a deep breath then whisper, “I was so sure they were going to kill you this time…” Tears slip from your eyes.

Placing a hand on your cheek, he tilts your head up and looks deeply into your eyes, his own warm and soft. “I know. But they didn’t. I’m here.”

You nod, but the tears continue to flow.

Din gently grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his chest, covering your hand with his own, pressing it into his skin. “Do you feel that? That is my heart beating.”

You nod, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your palm and reverberate through your fingers. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive, you chant in your head.

“The Empire is gone. They can never hurt us. No one will ever hurt us.

You look up at him through your eyelashes.

He cups your face. “I promise.”

“Good. Because I like having you alive,” you finally admit.

Din’s lips crash down on yours, his mouth hungry, desperate, telling you that he likes having you alive too. His tongue pushes into your mouth, and your hands grip his face before sliding down his neck.

“Are you okay?” you ask before diving in for another kiss. If he’s not okay, if he’s still hurting, you shouldn’t be kissing him like this. But you can’t help it. You need his kisses. You need to know that everything is okay.

“Yes. Are you?” he asks, his voice deepening into a protective beast, like he’d kill another platoon of Imperial soldiers just to kiss you again.

Grinning against his lips, you reply, “We reclaimed Mandalore. We killed the Imps. I’m kissing my husband. I’m good.”

“Thank fuck.”

Water cascades down both your bodies as Din’s lips meet yours in a hard, passionate kiss. He guides you backwards, his body pressing you against the wall of the shower. His hands slide down your torso and grip your bare waist. You moan into his mouth as he pulls your body tightly against his, his erection pressing into you, causing the ache simmering in your lower belly to intensify.

You tilt your head to the side, opening your neck to him as your hands curl into fists against his warm, muscled chest. He moves his mouth to your ear, kissing it and nuzzling his face in your hair.

“Can I taste you, cyare?” he questions, not that he ever needs to ask.

“Yes,” you breath.

His lips move lower, dotting your neck then your chest. He stops to taste your nipples, sucking them in his mouth in long, slow pulls that have you writhing.

He drops to his knees, and you watch as he presses your knees apart, his eyes locked on your pussy, as if admiring it. Then he pulls you close to him and inhales your scent.

“So fucking beautiful,” he rasps before planting a soft kiss on your mound.

His hands flutter across your hips when you roll into him, your body begging for friction, trying to feel any part of him where you want him – need him - the most. But he takes his time, leaving soft, feathery kisses up your thigh that make you tremble in anticipation.

Din’s tongue snakes between your folds, and you spread yourself wider for him. His places a hand above your belly, gently pinning you to the wall as he licks and kisses and sucks the soft flesh in his mouth. With his other hand, he gently parts your folds and plunges his tongue in deeper, making you gasp. When he drags his tongue all the way up to your swollen clit, your body twitches hard, knees going weak. He guides a thigh over his shoulder, propping you against him so he can move you. His hands roll your hips, his tongue raking over your pussy.

You lose yourself in him, in the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth his mouth brings. Your breath comes out in sharp pants as he licks over then around the bud. You vibrate against him, whimpering softly.

“Let go, riduur. Let me hear you. Let all of Mandalore hear you.”

He covers your clit with his lips and sucks, forcing you to cry out while a hands flie to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Your other hand clutches his shoulder, clawlike, your nails digging into his flesh. Breath coming in short gasps, you throw your head back against the shower wall and scream his name, stars bursting in your steamy vision. He sucks you through your orgasm. He licks against where you’re wet and sweet then lifts his head and studies your face, your cheeks flushed, eyes closed, mouth agape, try desperately to catch your breath.

He moves up your body, kissing your slick skin softly, making you writhe, as if every inch of you has become oversensitive. Trailing kisses up your neck, to your jaw, you squirm, the heat rising against and swirling in your stomach. Despite the earth-shattering orgasm, you want more.

“Din, please.”

He kisses you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Need you. In me. Now.”

He spins you around, lifting your arms and placing them against the wall. You arch your back and push your ass out. He bends down and parts your legs, running a hand up your wet thighs. He straightens himself and hovers behind you, his cock poised at your entrance, a hand firmly on your hip. You push against him, inviting him in.

His cock doesn’t need adjusting. It was in the perfect place, as if it knew where it needed to be. He pushes inside you, slowly, steadily, as I savoring the feeling as you devour every inch of him. Squeezing your eyes shut, your mouth opens in a tiny ‘O,’ whimper until he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

“Fuck,” he utters, his voice a raspy sound of ecstasy as he stills inside you. His forehead falls to the back of your head.

Warm water runs down your bodies, every rivulet of water a flicker of added pleasure on your oversensitive skin.

“I love the feel of you, riduur,” you speak.

“You seem to mold around me as if I belong there.”

You turn your head, his mouth falling to the nape of your neck.

“You do…right here…one with me.”

His grip tightens on your hip, fingers pressing into your flesh. Slowly, he pulls out of you, feeling the squeeze of you from base to tip before gently thrusting his hardness back into your welcoming body. The sensual feel causes moans to fall from both of you. He takes slow thrusts at first, then builds his speed up to a driving rhythm. He plunges inside you deep, hard, fast, stroke after desperate stroke.

His hand snakes down your body, ending up palm down across your mouth, fingers massaging your clit.

“Come with me, cyare.”

You buck back into him as the two of you writhe against each other. Your body shakes as he presses into your clit, circling it around and flicking it expertly. His lips nibble your earlobe, his hot breath pulsing on your neck. Your jaw unhinges in silent pleasure, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.

“That’s it. I can feel it.”

You quickly reach down, grasping his hand on your hip. Your back arches and you pull him in deeper. He gives one final push, deep and hard, before you both explode into a million shards of light together. His cock pulsates deep inside you

His body slumps against yours, spent and fulfilled. The two of you heave for air, water and sweat drip onto your skin as he kisses and nips at your shoulder. Letting him fall out of you, you turn around, your hands reaching up to feel his soaking hair. Your eyes lock, his deep chocolate brown orbs capturing and trapping you within their depths. Surrounding sounds disappear, leaving only the loud thud of your own heart. Moments pass before the spell is broken by his voice, the deep, husky sound vibrating through you whole body. Hand falls to stomach?

“Bo can have Mandalore,” he says simply. “I have everything I need right here.”

“Are you sure there’s no convincing you to stay?” Bo-Katan questions. She stands outside of Slave II with the two of you, having come to say goodbye. Boba, Fennec, and Greef had left Mandalore weeks earlier, you and Din opting to stay behind to help get some things in order before leaving to settle in your new home. “The council could use both of you. Not to mention I’m certain the two of you could singlehandedly repopulate the entire planet.”

Chuckling, you turn your gaze to Din.

“I’m sorry, Bo, but for now, our place is on Nevarro,” Din responds.

“You haven’t seen the last of us though,” you chime in. “Greef is very eager for Nevarro to open trade talks with Mandalore. Isn’t that right, Marshal Djarin?” You’re absolutely beaming as you look at him, proud of everything he has done, everything he has yet to do.

Din chuckles, blushing slightly at the title.

“Well, then. I look forward to future negotiations.” Bo-Katan smiles then holds her hand out to grasp Din’s arm, hand to elbow. “Vor entye.” Thank you.

“Ba’gedet’ye, Mand’alor,” Din responds. You’re welcome.

“Have you taken up a title yet?” you question, your curiosity sparked by Din’s use of her Mand’alor.

“There have been suggestions,” Bo-Katan replies, eyeing Din. “But titles are the least of my concern.”

“Not even one you like?”

She chuckles. “I’m not impartial to Mandalore the Avenger, which seems to be gaining some traction thanks to someone, but I don’t dare steal the title from Shae Vizsla.”

“Shae Vizsla?” you question, turning your head to Din. The two of you exchange a confused look. A ruler from hundreds of years ago, no doubt.

Those are perfectly fine names by Tatooine standards, but… Are they right for warriors?

You’re the first to break, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Though they’re completely valid, your past fears seem so silly now.

Din groans. “Just my luck, naming my kid after a kriffing Vizsla.”

Smiling brightly, you grab a hold of his hand, your other hand falling to your belly. “She’s not a Vizsla though. She’s a Djarin. And she’ll wear the name proudly.”

{Epilogue}

Din and Reader will return in an epilogue. Thanks for reading!

[words-are-fireproof]

Red Ribbons - (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Summary: After seeing his face, you and the Mandalorian end up in a snowy town with the kid and red ribbon.

Rating: T, just to be safe

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I don't celebrate the holidays but I started this as part of @toomanystoriessolittletime's December challenge and I finally finished it so...here you go! As always, my work is unedited. Whoops. And, also, as always, I can't write short stuff to save my life. Double whoops.

This is a sequel, of sorts, to Haalur but I don't think you'll have had to read that one to understand this one. Still gonna link that one, though.

[Masterlist] || [Part One]

-----

The minute he saw you, he had two questions–one, why was the kid wrapped in a bow; two, why were you wearing almost the same bow in your hair?

Holidays weren’t exactly something that he understood. The Outer Rim had festivals to honor gods and different tribes had different celebrations for harvests and the like, but you’d come from a place that chose to exchange gifts at the end of every year to encourage an uptick in morale. The morale sustained your culture through the long, harsh winters, and often the gifts were practical in nature. You’d explained it a few times, but he still didn’t understand the significance or why you couldn’t just exchange gifts all year long. If they were practical gifts, wouldn’t they be better suited to give at any time instead of the end of the year?

He never argued, though. He just nodded and went on, tending to the repairs of a newly rebuilt gunship that Peli Motto had found when he’d complained about the lack of space on the N-1. He knew of only one holiday on Tatooine–Boonta Eve–but he never celebrated it, and he made it a point to not be on the planet when the celebration happened. Mandalorians and celebrations weren’t exactly good bedfellows. However, he didn’t exactly mind. He also was careful to avoid most places during Life Day celebrations. What could he say? He wasn’t big on celebrations.

But he still was curious about why Grogu looked pleased as punch in a bright red bow and why you looked far too cheerful for a normal day on an almost deserted planet. Thankfully it wasn’t too deserted. You still managed to procure a rather nice room in town, framed by a big window that opened to a panorama of a snowy forest. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that much snow that wasn’t mostly ice, but you weren’t complaining and, strangely enough, neither was Grogu.

The little bog goblin toddled around the warm, enclosed landing pad. Only a sliver of cold air filtered to them through a small crack between the overhead bay doors. It barely ruffled the bow around his little neck. Mando couldn’t believe he was keeping the bow on. Sometimes changes in his routine threw the little tyke off. Most of the time, he went with the flow with small squeals of excitement that filled the Mandalorian’s chest with happiness, a strange and foreign feeling even now. He’s sure what he felt squeezing underneath his sternum– as he fiddled with a bolt cutter–was that ever elusive emotion. He couldn’t be so sure.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, crouching down to see under the chassis of his ship and to be more on Grogu’s level.

The kid pointed in your direction. His breath hitched, the sound crackling through his modulator. You didn’t hear it, but the kid glanced over him, his head tilted curiously.

You’d found a stash of wooly sweaters Mando had recently filched from a bounty. You were surprised they fit, but you were grateful, especially when his ship required emergency maintenance in the snowiest planet possible. The red ribbon had been acquired from the inn owner. Something about being easy to see in the snow. Maybe. You couldn’t understand half of what the woman–or you assumed it was a woman–said. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand. At least you had him to procure the room.

You took it upon yourself to do your hair in the room, curling it delicately in long ringlets one lock of hair at a time. When you’d finished, you pulled on one of the sweaters, a deep maroon one that brought out your eyes. You ignored the way it itched and clung to your body. You never wore form fitting stuff. You preferred loose clothing, and you rarely wore colors, preferring the browns and tans that you usually wore on Tatooine. And you were fairly certain he’d never seen you with your hair down like this, which might explain why the ‘t’ of his visor was trained on you, head tilted, Grogu making little squeaks of confusion at the change in you. But, as soon as you smiled, he came toddling over to you happily, asking silently to be picked up and you obliged. You settle the little green bean on your hip as you regard Mando closely.

The ‘t’ of his helmet was still trained on you. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. Ever since that night on Tatooine when he asked you to take off his helmet, he’d been different. You enjoyed that night, and you made sure to tell him, especially when he took you to bed without his armor and held you in his broad frame like you were the best thing to ever happen to him. Maybe you were. You weren’t about to argue with him, not as he held you like that. But after that night, after he’d flown away, he seemed to grow distant, intent on not touching you, intent on doing other things and not giving you the time of day.

It hurt, but you weren’t so easily swayed in your affections and you’d like to think that he wasn’t either, whatever those affections might be.

“What’s the occasion?” His voice came through the modulator, quiet and uncertain.

“I thought I’d dress up for you.”

His helmet tilted to the side. “Why?”

“Why not?”

He stood slowly, his entire frame raising smoothly, even with the heavy beskar on. “You’ve never done it before.”

“It’s too hot to dress up on Tatooine.”

He snorted. “I noticed.”

You shifted Grogu onto your other hip as he played with a ringlet of your hair. “And maybe I wanted to entice you away from your ship.”

The kid cooed and looked between the two of you, dark eyes catching the dim light of the landing bay, his little fist curled into your hair.

He shifted on his feet, his helmet straightening as he peered at you. “You don’t want to get out of here?”

You shook your head as you said, “Why would I have had you get us a room if I wanted to leave?”

That seemed to flummox him. He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared at you and his kid. He hated to admit it, but Grogu liked you as much as he liked him. The two of you weren’t attached like he was to Mando, but you knew he missed you when you were gone. Mando would tell you when he inevitably came back for a visit, Tatooine in his veins, calling like a siren’s song, pulling him in.

“You…like the snow?”

You shrugged elaborately. “I’ve never really been in snow like this. It’s nice.”

“The kid and I’ve mostly just seen ice planets. Haven’t we, little guy?”

Grogu cooed and continued to look between the two of you intently, like he could feel the shift in the two of you, like he knew something had happened while he was gone. You couldn’t be sure if he registered the time apart from Mando. You were sure he had, though. When the two of them came staggering back to your door after the fight with the rancor and the Pykes, you’d tended his wounds while Grogu remained attached to Mando’s hip. The kid’s eyes were trained on you as you stitched Mando up, having been out of bacta spray and other modern medical miracles. You prefered the old fashioned way. You’d been raised that way. That’s when Mando told you about the little green guy. Fully told you. He didn’t skirt around it like he had before. He’d told you the kid was actually fifty. You barely believed it, but when he told you about Grogu’s life before, the memories he’d suppressed, the power he had… a lot of things suddenly made sense.

“Ice planets can be pretty, too.”

Mando snorted softly and shook his head. “Not when you’re getting chased by ice spiders.”

You make a face, a shudder sliding down your spine. “Oh, god, no thank you.”

“I think Grogu made them mad.”

You lifted an eyebrow and peered at the kid. “Did you eat some of them?” The kid giggled and babbled which gave you all the confirmation you needed. “Of course, you did.”

Silence flowed between the two of you for a moment longer than it should’ve. Your eyes trained on him and you wished he would take off his helmet. You longed to see his deep, soulful eyes again. You wanted to drown in his gaze. Maybe you even wanted to drown in him but then you thought about the fact that the kid was there with him this time and there was no one to watch him but the two of you.

“You really want to stick around?”

You nodded. “You should see the room you got,” you said by way of answering him. “It’s beautiful.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, turning to survey the raggedy gunship. “I’ll get a pack together.”

“No need,” you sing songed happily. “I grabbed what you needed already. Same with the kid. It’s in the room.”

He turned back to face you. Once again, the ‘t’ of his helmet trained on you, but you couldn’t be sure what the Mandalorian was thinking. You wished you could see his face. You pushed that thought away. You couldn’t get attached. Not like that. It was inevitable that he’d leave you again, and this time, maybe he’d leave you for good. You pushed that thought aside. You wouldn’t let him do that.

“Come on, then,” his voice sounded different through the modulator. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you followed him regardless, Grogu still settled on your hip.

The chill of the air cut through your desert acclimated body. It settled deep in your bones despite the cozy sweater you wore. You wondered how he could possibly be warm but then you remembered he often wore many layers under that beskar. You selfishly hoped he would take off some of those layers just in case anything happened. You didn’t relish the idea of the cold metal brushing against your bare skin.

When you finally made it back to the inn and to your room, your curls were all over the place thanks to the wind. Snow clung to Grogu’s little face and without even thinking, you took care of him first, making sure he was all clean and dry and changed into warmer clothes. But you made sure to re-tie the ribbon around his collar. He started to make a fit when he thought you weren’t going to give it back to him.

Mando watched the two of you closely through his visor. A strange feeling percolated in his chest. It wasn’t the normal happiness he usually felt when he saw the two of you. It tightened under his sternum. His heart pounded under the wide breastplate of his armor. What was this feeling that seemed to fill him up with pain and warmth all at once? He didn’t understand it. He wasn’t even sure if he liked it.

He cleared his throat softly. “He likes that bow.”

“I know. It surprised me.” Your gaze settled on him as you sat him down in his pram. Almost immediately, the little bog goblin settled down into his blankets, yawned, then began to doze, his little snores filling the ensuing silence.

You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do now, unsure of what you could get away with, unsure if you even wanted to get away with something. It was your turn to clear your throat, stepping away from Grogu to let him sleep as you ran your fingers through your knotted curls. You winced with discomfort when you found a particularly big knot, but before you could do anything about it, you felt his large, strong hands brush away your small, slender ones as he picked almost timidly at the tangle. You still couldn’t believe you’d forgotten to pack a brush from home.

“It’s your turn to feel different, you know?” His smooth voice slid down her spine like molten lava, warming her from the inside out.

“I do?” You could almost feel him nod behind you.

“You’re uncertain.”

A wild laugh strains its way out of your chest and throat. “Uncertain?”

His hands and fingers pause in your hair. “Yes.”

Here you thought you’d done such a good job hiding it. “I’m not uncertain.”

His fingers continue their work on the knot, gently teasing it apart. “Are you afraid I'll be upset if you are?”

“No,” you answered far too quickly.

The truth was, you weren’t scared of him being upset. Uncertainties happen all the time. You both know they happen. You both know that being upset at uncertainties was the quick way to arguments and little resentments that would tear the two of you apart. You didn’t want that, and you imagined he didn’t either.

“Don’t lie to me, mesh’la.”

“I’m not,” you answer honestly.

“Then why–”

You cut him off quickly with a finished question of your own. “Why did you show me your face and then disappear for months?”

You swear you can hear him swallow thickly behind you, his fingers pausing again in your hair before they fall away completely.

“I had to see the kid, remember?”

“Yeah, but when you came back…” You still remember the exact time he came back. Down to the very minute, the noise of the N-1 was far different than the Razor Crest as it settled in the landing pad.

“I was hurt. Maybe that had something to do with it.”

You shake your head. “You and I both know that’s not the truth.”

This time, you did hear as he sighed and stood to get away from you. At least that’s what you reckoned in your mind. He was getting away from you because he really didn’t want to be close to you anymore.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“Show me your face?” You snap bitterly.

“Let you in.”

Your brief flare of anger deflates. “You regret letting me in?”

“I regret not letting you in sooner.”

You blinked in confusion as you turned to face him. “I don’t–”

“You’re great with the kid. You’re great with me. You make me feel…special, cyare.”

You breathed in a shaky breath, unable to look at him. Instead, you focus on the snowy expanse out the window as big, fat, fluffy flakes begin to fall from the grey-blue sky. Special? You made him feel special? What did that mean? Beyond the pet name in Mando’a, beyond the fact that you took care of the kid rather well when you were allowed to be around him, beyond all that–what exactly did it mean? What did he mean? Special? How special? Less like a killer? More like a man? Your mind reeled. You didn’t even know why it did. You just wanted it to stop.

“Then, why–”

“It scared me.”

That you understood. You finally turned to face him, gazing into the darkened expanse of his helmet.

“I won’t tell anybody.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about that.”

“But your Creed…” you found yourself foundering again, much like you had so many months ago.

“I broke my Creed a long time ago.” He tilted his head in the direction of the pram. “For him.”

Your gaze fell to the pram with a soft smile. For some reason, that didn’t surprise you. Of course he’d do that for Grogu. The little tyke was worth it, and you knew the attachment you both had to each other transcended everything else, even whatever attachment they both had for you.

With a soft hitch of his breath, he gently removed his helmet, setting it down on the bed to fully tune his gaze to you. You tried to hide the happiness as it bubbled inside of you, but it broke across your face in a wide smile and a bright pink blush. You ducked your head against it, but his fingers quickly settled on your chin, tilting your head back up to face him.

“It scared me,” he continued, “because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not like this.”

The blush deepened as you chewed on your bottom lip. He brushed his thumb over your upper lip gently, your teeth yielding and releasing before his mouth slotted gently and briefly against yours. A happy little shriek from Grogu made you both jump away from each other. You laughed as you watched him clap excitedly.

“I think he’s happy about this new development.”

He chuckled, his turn to turn pink, the tops of his ears a deeper color than his cheeks. “I think you might be right about that.”

You shake your head, leaning in to steal another kiss, properly this time, tongues tangling together as you deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to tug him closer. But you immediately frown and pull back, shivering at the chill coming from his beskar.

“You going to take this all off and get comfortable?”

He turned to survey the plush bed, adorned with sheets as white as the snow outside the window. “Maybe. Are you going to join me?”

You grinned, eyes shining as you slowly began to undress, peeling off the sweater you put on just for him until all you wore were your bra and underwear.

“Can I see your wrist?”

He still hadn’t taken off his flight suit or his beskar, too enthralled with watching you get ready for bed. You chuckled as he quickly took off the arm armor, letting it fall on the floor with a heavy thud before he divested himself of his heavy woolen flight suit. The scratchy material found its way to the floor as well. It was only then that he offered you his wrist readily. You wound the red ribbon around his wrist and tied it in a pretty bow to match the one around Grogu’s neck.

“There you go. Both my boys are my Life Day presents.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t celebrate Life Day.”

You shrugged. “Neither do I. But I do love having the both of you around.”

He fell quiet for a long moment before he murmured, “We love having you around, too.”

And you knew as soon as he spoke those words that he meant more by it than what he said. You let it fill you up and give you light and warmth, especially as you both tumble into bed, the snow falling heavily as Grogu hides in his pram, seeming to know exactly what’s about to happen.

[ok-so-chiggy]

Someone from Corin's past comes back to haunt him and his adverse reaction nearly exposes the Career Training Program. Thank the Odds, his mentor Paz Vizsla is there to cover for him--but that won't always be the case. Vizsla orders Corin to work on his sabacc face and shares some harsh truths about the cost of becoming a Victor.

Hello! I have vacation for the first time in like...forever. So finally, FINALLY I can start updating this fic again. If anyone's out there and still following this story, then ...well... thanks for your patience. <3 It's been too long, I know lol -- Unfortunately, I work two jobs and can never brain anything by the time I get home from work. It's awful. 10/10 do not recommend :( lol Anyways here's the next chapter. We get to learn a bit more about Paz Vizsla's worldview and what happened in his Games. I really enjoyed writing this chapter for that reason. It is also the reason I took so long editing this chapter-- within the Hunger Games AU, his story is...complicated and controversial to say the least. Infinite thanks go to the wonderful amazing humans -- Lady Irina @sulphuryasecretcloset and Ace @miscellaneous-ace. Without them, this story wouldn't exist! You both inspire me even after all these years <3

[midnightmoon27]

Hello tumblr friends! I am looking to join a discord server for any of the following fandoms; Stranger Things, the Mandalorian, Taylor Swift

[trukoo]

how many fanarts can i post in a small span of time (a week) until i am annoying yall because i am drawing one a day atm be honest