#this brought me so much peace thank you foundling

[dindjarindiaries]

Okay, Din and Grogu sitting on the porch of their farm house, the sunset sky glazing the land of all it's most beautiful colours. They are wrapped up in a big fluffy blanket, Din has his hair fluffy and messy from a long day, Grogu cuddles closer to Din and coo's- he's happy and content. Din sips his steaming nighttime tea that helps him sleep, and he too his happy and content with this new simple life he and his son live together. 🌄

E X A C T L Y !

[staygolddindjarin]

Grief

Chapter One: History

Din Djarin x Reader x a bunch of other star wars characters

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter Warnings: Oof this ones kinda angsty right off the bat- ⚠️ attempted suicide?? Kinda?? Age gap (reader is underage, but don't worry it's just for the sake of backstory and also there's no spicy, so...) mentions of death and afterlife, fluff if you like squint really hard

A/n: hello there... I'm sorry to inflict tumblr with this atrocity, but wattpad had to deal with it so tumblr can too. I wrote a different version of this on my wp with an OC name, but I know that not everyone cares for that so this won't include that. Also this series will be such a slow burn... prepare yourself ahead of time because it's going to be agonizing

Words: 6.3k+

SERIES MASTERLIST UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Part 1/?

"Pehea gar mar'eyir ni...."

How did you find me....

He came and sat beside me, the sound of metal scraping agaisnt the ground when he knelt first.

"Gar cuyir te shi solus tion'ad comes olar jii.  Ni kar'taylir gar jate'shya gar mirdir Ni vaabir," He responded.

You are the only one who comes here now. I know you better than you think I do.

I heaved a deep breath before letting it out in an exhausted sigh. Speaking in my native tongue was something I always appreciated, but now sitting here it felt nearly uncomfortable, but there was a reason for that.

"I wanted to be alone," The words from my mouth were no longer in my language, and he shifted beside me, trying to convey his confusion without a word.

"Care to elaborate?" He suggested, his asking tone was harsh... but then so was everything else about him.

I didn't really feel like explaning my feelings at the moment. I didn't want to focus on the very thing he was asking about. Even though he wasn't absolutely sure of what he was asking.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," I trailed off.

"Try me." His voice wasn't any softer, but the sincerity he rarely showed had seeped into his tone.

"I really don't think it's a good idea. You really won't understand, and for all I know you could make things worse off for me than they already are," I didn't like it when he let his guard down around me. I didn't like getting closer to him, even though I was supposed to.

"I can't force you. Whatever it is, I wouldn't get myself too worked up," He sounded hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it was by my words. He was too strong to be wounded by such trivial things.

He moved in his seat, beginning to stand, and for some reason the thought of being alone like I had originally intended seemed like a horrible idea.

I reached out to grip his arm. I kept my gaze forward, knowing that even if I looked at him I could not see his eyes.

"Stay."

He didn't hesitate. He sat down again, and I no longer felt guilt for the hurt in his voice a moment prior.

We sat for a moment in silence, just looking over the cliffside, into the deep canyons that wove in between settlements and encampments of our tribes and clans.

"I don't want this life," I whispered. I had only half hoped he would be paying enough attention to hear me. My voice was soft enough that he might not have.

"What do you mean?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting the choice to even say what I did. I felt a shiver go down my arms, and I felt the wind come into the old open cavern, making the air around me chill. My arms were exposed, for I didn't expect the cold tonight. I didn't expect to be here this long.

"I'll turn sixteen in four days. I will either take the creed, or deny everything I've ever been taught. I'd leave if I do that," I finally gave a glance in his direction. He looked back at me, or at least the beskar did. I could never tell where his eyes were.

"You want to leave?" That pained tone of his voice had returned. The one I felt guilty for without actually believing I had done anything to cause it.

I did. I wanted to get off this planet. Away from the responsibility of becoming what everyone expected of me.

"I have to. It's the only way I will ever be at peace, but I'm not sure if I truly have the strength to stand in front of my family and deny the creed."

I could run away. I had some friends who were planning to jump a transport and join the rebellion against the empire.

They had offered me to be apart of this, but I had refused, believing that I would follow in my ancestors footsteps and take the creed. My father had already provided the beskar for my helmet to be made. It was already in the armourer's possession. All that was left was for me to come of age.

"Where did you go, just now?" He noticed my lack of attentiveness to my current reality, and brought me back to where I was. On the drafty cliffside, with my legs hanging over the end.

"Nowhere. I was just thinking about the future," I had admitted. Though I felt the need to stay emotionally distant from him, and not let myself develop a closeness, I knew I could trust him with my life, which is why I even revealed these things to him in the first place.

"What do you think your future will look like?" The tone that brought me guilt had again left his voice, but was replaced by something else... was it fear? I could not even think of theorizing that he could ever be scared. He was one of the bravest in his clan. Never had he shown an ounce of fear to anyone or anything. How stupid of me to even wonder.

"Merc and his crew are gonna stow away on a crate transport tomorrow. He has contact with the rebellion. He said that I could go with them if I was up for it," I looked down, almost embarrassed at admitting a plan of escape to someone so loyal to this place. Even though he wasn't born on this planet, and even though he wasn't a blood member of any tribe, the foundling was more of a mandalorian than I could ever be.

"You've agreed?"

"No. Not yet," I shook my head. I didn't feel like my reasons were valid. Having him sit beside me, and ask me these things made me realize that I needed to explain myself further.

"Din, I want to be free. I don't want to spend the rest of my life under a code that is so restricting to me, binding my every decision. Everything I'd do would have to be following after the creed."

He didn't respond, and even though his features were shrouded under the reflective surface of his beskar, I could tell he was thinking of something.

"I'm not yet sixteen, but when I am... I don't want to be locked down under a piece of metal. I don't want to have to be bound to this planet or a clan. I want to go some place far away and be something that is different than what everyone expects of me. I want to fight battles against the empire, I want to make my own rules. I want to be free to marry who I love, and not be betrothed to whoever my father chooses for me," I finished off my speech about freedom, but realized the last sentence too late. I should have chosen a better set of words.

Din's head hung down, looking at the wrist guards he wore. He shook his head back and forth and before I could interject, he began speaking.

"So that's why...." he trailed off. I was honestly too scared to say anything now. Why must I speak so bluntly and hurtfully honest to people? Perhaps it is because I had never gotten close to him that now I had no fear in what I said to his face.

"If the reason you plan to leave your family is because of me, then-"

"No," I said harshly, catching him off guard. I was usually snippy with others, but I had never before shown a tendency to be angry or intense with my speech. "Believe me, this has nothing to do with you."

"You have always shown enthusiasm towards coming of age. It's only now, when we are arranged, that you show any difference," He brought on certainty in his voice that I nearly couldn't deny, but the truth was... it really wasn't about him. "I can converse with your father, the rest of the clan... I will find a way to break it off if it will make you stay."

"Din, I don't want you to do that. If you don't believe me when I tell you that you are not the cause of this, then so be it, but I will not have you ruining your good name in my favor, when it won't even stop me," The heat of the moment provided actual, physical warmth for me in the time I was running my mouth off, but now that I had finished, and begun to calm down, I felt the freezing air on my arms again, wrapping them around myself and drawing my legs closer to generate more body heat.

"Are you cold?" He changed the subject, needing something- anything else to say.

"Its not exactly warm up here," My voice was low and sarcastic, but at hearing my words, Din stood up and stepped behind me. Before I even had a chance to ask him what he was doing, I felt his thick woolen cape being draped around my shoulders.

I smiled softly, not even a real, full smile. More of just a small tug from the side of my lips. My real smile was saved for later.

"Thank you."

He nodded as he sat back down, letting his legs fall over the cliffside.

"So you're gonna leave with them, aren't you?" His head turned to face me, but I couldn't dare try and stare at the beskar while thinking of what I would do. This choice was the beginning of the rest of my life.

"I think so," I didn't think. Thinking was what I had been doing too much of. Now I was certain. This was my choice. I was going to start new, and become something different. I may have been born on mandalore, but I was definitely not a mandalorian.

I had a rush of confidence come through me until I remembered what this meant. It all hit me like a dropship coming out of hyperspace. What was I thinking?

"No," I whispered. Din didn't understand my sudden discouragement, but he would soon.

"Merc and his friends already denied the creed. He's a foundling. They all are," I started to tear up as I realized what would happen to my family. The loss of a child in a clan is bad enough, but my family hadn't done anything to dessrve this. They were caring. They had shown me love. They had given me the best life I could ask for on a planet with such a religion.

"Second thoughts?" He asked genuinely, scooting closer beside me as to maybe get more information from my body language, or even my breathing.

"I can't do this. My family would be ruined. If I ran away, they would be punished for it," I felt tears coming up in my eyes. My clan was good to me. The people were kind, and I found solace there. Even if I had always dreamt about something bigger, I couldn't bear to let ruin come upon my family name. It wasn't fair to let that happen, especially when the only thing in the way was my own selfishness. "I can't leave my family."

I let the tears stream down my face, not even bothering to wipe them away. The contrast of the cold wind on my hot, tear streaked face had helped to calm me down a little.

"If you plan on staying, you understand that I am apart of your future here, don't you?"

"Din, I already told you before... you are not the reason I want to leave," I tried my best to keep myself together, but with my wet cheeks and red, puffy eyes, I didn't see how that could be an option.

What if there was another way to freedom?

I sat, trying to think of some stories that the other clan members would talk about.

"Din?"

He hummed in response, keeping his gaze on me.

"Has anyone in your clan ever mentioned afterlife?" I maybe should have taken a different approach to this. He seemed to be rendered speechless by my topic of conversation, but I had to ask.

"You mean after death?" He asked me and I nodded.

"I've heard some stories."

I thought about how it had been described to me. A paradise, with never-ending happiness, and unlimted freedom. Freedom.

"After you die, you appear in the world as another life. You can do whatever you want and no one has consequences for any of it. It's like a world without chaos. Everything is perfect," I remember every word as it comes out of my mouth. The words that were spoken to me, more like taught to me when I was a bit younger by the elders who had retired from their days of battle.

"It sounds too easy." He said, ripping me out of my fantasy.

"That's the point. You don't have to worry about anything or anyone, because you can do as you please, and everything will still be the same. All you have to do is die...."

"Like being reborn into a different world."

"Exactly."

I hesitated to take my safety blaster from it's holster under my hip, and when I did, I looked at it before pointing it out in the distance and testing the trigger. It shot a blast of lazer energy out into the air, landing somewhere beneath us in the canyon.

I decided that this was not an act to pursue at the moment, for Din was sitting right beside me, and the sight of watching a young girl pull the trigger against her own head might be an unpleasant one. Even for him, though he has seen worse.

I put the blaster back in it's holster and stand up from the rocky ground. Din follows suit, looking down at me with quiet concern. I wouldn't have known it until now, but I wondered if he had come to care for me at all during these last few weeks we had been betrothed.

I'd known him the majority of my life anyways, so I knew he must have felt some sort of attachment to me, but in what form, I hadn't ever cared to ask.

He kept breathing heavily as he looked down at me for a few moments, and it almost sounded like he wanted to ask me something. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the words.

"Here's your cape back," I slid the material off my shoulders, trying to hand it back to him, but he pushed it back towards me.

"You should keep it for now. The sun is nearly down, it will only grow colder."

He reached his gloved hand up to my face, and I could swear I felt the warmth of his hand beneath the coarse leather.

I only nodded, and leaned forward, trying to lean my head into him, but he carefully stopped me, his hands on my shoulders. Instead he rested his helmet against my forhead, and the cold beskar wasn't such a bad feeling as it rested there.

"I won't let you down. I promise." He said, clueless of my plans for later tonight, after the tribes were asleep, and no one would be at the cliffside.

"I know you won't. You're a good man, Din Djarin." I paused, trying to gather better words. "A true Mandalorian if there ever was one."

The moment didn't last any longer because of how frigid the air was becoming. It was warmer back with the tribes, they always had a fire burning.

Without another word, we both left the old artillery cavern and hiked down the side of the canyon to get back to our own clan territory.

Once I was at the edge of mine, I turned around to utter a simple goodbye, and found that he was very close behind me. His hand came up and rested on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

Maybe this was the last time we would see each other. Tonight I would envoke my plan to freedom, to rebirth. Perhaps we would meet in another life. Perhaps I would have just enough memory of this life to try and find him in the next one. One where I will have freedom.

Tonight I had gotten closer to the metal clad Mandalorian than I ever had before. I didn't regret it. He listened to what I had to say, and there were few who ever did.

His hand fell from it's place on my shoulder, but I didn't let him walk away yet. I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him tense up for a moment before reciprocating. It took him a few seconds to let out the breath he was holding in, but when he did, he found himself relaxing into the comfort.

"Goodbye, Din," My voice wasn't sad, or overly sensitive in any way. I figured it actually sounded quite optimistic.

"You know I'll see you tomorrow." He said, reminding me of the clan meetings. Once a month the clans would gather and each tribe would go over the agenda for whatever was to happen soon. Battles were normally discussed, but tomorrow, me and a few of the others in the other clans would be talked about. Our ceremonial coming of age where we would take the creed.

"Yeah... right. Don't come looking for me, I don't plan on showing up," I said quietly, careful in anyone was to hear me.

He pulled me back at arms length and looked at me, but his black blast shield hid his features and I could not tell if he thought I was crazy or not.

"How come?" His voice was also quiet, as we noticed some of my clan passing by to get to the fire.

"Don't worry about it. You'll still see me tomorrow," I lied. Or did I? Everyone within the five neighboring tribes would probably see me tomorrow.

He nodded, pulling us all the way apart and stepping back.

"Good."

He didn't look like he was gonna walk away until I had gone into the hub of my clan's small village. I turned around and walked towards the large fire, seeing my mother. Her helmet was unmistakable. The pattern of the strill engraved into the side of the beskar. It was her signet. A worthy kill of her days in battle. I would never have one. I walked towards her when she noticed me.

Her modulated voice let out a small chuckle, before I stepped beside her.

"It is well to see you spending time with Din Djarin. Me and your father were afraid you may not have been fond of him," She kept her gaze on the fire, speaking only loud enough for me to hear her, given that the other mandalorians of our village were also gathering around the fire, conversing with each other the same way we were.

"I am fond of him, why would I not be?" I was unsure of what she meant. Sure, I had been keeping a distance between us since my father had arranged our marriage, but I never had shown that I wasn't fond of him. I was polite, and gave him attention when it was asked of me.

"Whenever I or your father bring up the discussion of your eighteenth birthday, you always seem to act like it's the plague," She was smirking under her helmet, and I could tell. I could always tell what face she made underneath her metal covering.

"Maybe it's the fact that I dread getting married at all. I'm not opposed to Din, though," I convinced her. I wouldn't have to try and do that again after tonight.

"Whatever it is, your father will be pleased to know you and him were in each other's company. Although I will stray from telling him you two were alone... you were alone, weren't you?" She turned her metal covered head, trying to figure out from the look on my face.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, knowing there was no point in lying. No damage could be done at this point, except for maybe towards Din.

"And what were you both doing?" She tilted her head, and I let mine drop. I would tell her the truth, because nothing bad could come from it. Or could it.

"We were just talking... about the future," I answered.

"Your marriage..." She suggested, and I nodded, knowing that it did come up in the conversation.

"Yes."

"I shudder to ask if consummating was apart of this conversation," She looked back at the fire, knowing how red my cheeks would turn and how embarrassed I would be.

"No, nothing like that. I can promise you," I shivered at the thought. Din was a good man, but I didn't necessarily need to be letting thoughts like that intrude my mind.

Everyone else around the fire seemed to be distracted by the glowing flames, and my mother was soon the same, so I suggested my absense.

"I'm going to go in for the night, get some rest. Big meeting tomorrow..." I said before reaching out and squeezing her hand tightly.

She nodded to me, and I took my leave, walking towards our living quarters on the opposite side of camp.

I wasn't looking where I was going, and brushed my shoulder against Merc, who was with Gander and Shyloh.

"Sorry, didn't see you coming," I told him, but he shook his head, optiing ti ask me a question instead.

"Don't worry about it, I was looking for you anyway... Did you think about the offer? We leave at sunrise on the north delivery tarmac," He informed me, but I didn't have an answer. I wasn't staying here, but I wasn't leaving either.

"You'll know if I show up," I gave him a smirk, partially just because I was glad to see someone's actual face tonight, and not just a metal facade.

"We can't wait up for you, just know that."

I nodded, letting them get by. Maybe I could go with them. Live this life freely without starting another one.

No.

My family will not be able to handle that. It's better off if I'm dead. At least they won't go on to believe that I betrayed them, turning my back on all loyalty they had ever taught me. They would nevwr wonder if I ever loved them or planned on keeping their wishes.

I could start fresh. They wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. And I wouldn't have to worry anymore either. Rebirth.

I went straight to bed, clutching the woolen blanket beside me close to my chest.

For some reason I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. Something that made the sting of salty tears swell in my eyes. I knew that what I was doing was best, but yet I started having a hard time justifying something so drastic. They would get on fine without me, wouldn't they? They would go on living by the creed. This is the way. They will find a way to go on without me, like they did before I was born. Din will be arranged with another girl as soon as I'm gone. Everything will be alright.

The wetness that spilled over my eyes and down my face lasted hours, even though my mind kept telling itself that it was at peace.

It was in the dead of night, when I gathered a few of my belongings into a knapsack, throwing it over my shoulder before leaving out the tattered window of my private space.

I ventured to the canyon, with the moons lighting my way. The planet was never truly dark, due to the brightness and the number of shinning moons, all the color silver.

I set my knapsack down on the edge beside me. By the end of this, I would be at the bottom, waiting to be found the next day. I just hoped it wouldn't be anyone I knew. Of course, the number of people who ever came out here was only two. Me, and Din Djarin.

I hoped he wouldn't find me. I hoped it would be someone from another tribe that was flying over, and happened to spot something at the base of the cliffside.

I pulled my flask to my mouth, taking a large drink. A bit spilled onto my chin, and I wiped it off, feeling the breeze on my face. It was much colder now than earlier tonight. I wasn't sure if I should pull the blanket from my belongings and wrap it around myself, or skip the process of making myself comfortable and just get this over with.

I leaned over, looking straight at the ground, hundreds of feet below me. My heart started racing, and I got scared. Why shouldn't I be? I have every right to be absolutely terrified. I closed my eyes, trying to scoot myself over the edge inch by inch, seeing if I would just drop.

I nearly panicked when my bottom hit a crack in the ground and I thought I was going over. My breath hitched in my throat and I instantly pulled myself back.

"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be," I murmered, beginning to feel the emotional side of everything rise to the surface again. It didn't help that with the absolute silence that circled around me, I couldn't have any single thing to distract me.

I stood to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to ease the goosebumps rising on my skin from the frigid air.

I stood right on the edge, lifting a foot over and leaning forward, but before I could fall, I again caught myself, the adrenaline working overtime in my system and beginning to heat me up.

That wasn't going to work either. If I could, I would put a blaster to my temple and pull the trigger, but then it wouldn't look like an accident.

I paced around back and forth a few times, trying to calm myself down, to stop the whimpering and to make my tears cease. It wasn't working. I just needed to get this over and done with. A new life, with endless possibilities was waiting for me on the other side. Freedom was on the other side.

I wiped my face, even though it didn't stop me from crying, but it helped me to see clearer. I backed up, into the cavern, all the way inside until my back hit the wall of the ex artillery carvern. This was it. A new beginning. Rebirth. New life. Freedom.

I ran as fast as I could toward the edge, my eyes closed. I could feel the wind blowing against me even harder with my speed, and I could tell the edge was drawing near. Every step I took, I felt as though it was my last one.

I finally felt my foot hit the edge, but then I never fell. Instead, I was tackled to the ground. Whoever landed on top of me was heavy enough to hold me down, because half of me was hanging off the edge of the cliff.

I didn't dare even open my eyes. This was a sign. Someone stopped me.

I clinged onto whoever it was, and knew almost instantly who was laid over me when I heard him groan.

I cried even harder, my head buried in his armor clad chest, and my arms around his neck and his torso.

He was holding me tightly, one hand cradled my head into his neck, and the other firmly gripped my waist. He rolled us both over and I swear I felt him shaking.

"What were you thinking?" He stressed, his grip on me tightening as if he was scared to let go. I was scared too. I didn't want him to let go.

"You have to talk to me..."

I heaved a deep breath, deep enough to steady my voice so my whimpering didn't interfere with my words.

"I want out. I need to get out," I cracked in the middle of saying so few words, but they conveyed the message I was trying to get through.

"I can get you out, I promise.... But please don't ever try that again," His voice was full of worry, and as I suspected, he was trembling in fear.

"I'm sorry..." I cried some more, realizing that what I had done was now the biggest mistake I ever made, even if I was saved.

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you," He spoke to me, my voice quieting down as my sobbing came to a slow halt.

I lifted my face from where I had burrowed it into his neck, looking up at him. I didn't know what his expression was, but something told me it was fearful, and worrysome.

"I have to get out of here," I repeated again. The last day or so it became my mantra, and would leave my lips often, even just to myself. Mostly just to myself.

"You're going to. You're going with Merc... when are they leaving?" He asked, his arms still around me like mine were for him.

"At sunrise. They're gonna jump a delivery ship on the north tarmac," I explained, my voice was now hoarse and thick, due to not only all the crying I had done, but also the cold night air that had entered my lungs.

"Sunrise isn't for a few hours..." he let me know, and I nodded, knowing we shouldn't probably leave yet, for the walk to the north tarmac wasn't very long from here.

"Din, if I leave, my family is going to get the fire for my decision. I can't let that happen," I told him, my voice had become more firm, and I needed to convey the importance of how much this meant to me.

"I give you my word, that as long as I live, nothing will happen to your family," He swore, and I could just feel his eyes staring into mine. So much so that for the first time since he put that helmet on, I knew where his eyes were.

"I trust you. And I know that you'll always keep your word," I nodded, a small smile finally forming on my face.

Since it got fairly quiet, and we were still entangled together,  I scooted off of Din and opted instead to take the seat beside him.

"I should tell you some things before I go. I just don't want to leave anything unresolved," I admitted, and he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I know this might sound horrible, but I hated the idea of getting too close to you. It was like if I had formed an emotional bond with you, I wouldn't be able to leave anymore. And the last thing on my mind had been to stay. I've wanted freedom for a while now, I was just always too scared to say anything. And when my father told me that you and him had come to an agreement for arranging a marriage.... it's like it all became more real to me. My freedom would be taken in just days. The creed of mandalore is sacred, and it's truly an amazing thing... but it isn't for everyone."

He sat and took everything in. All the words that just spewed from my mouth like I had been holding them in for ages went against everything I had ever learned. Everything that had ever been put into my mind was the opposite of what I wanted.

"You're young. You want more than what the creed can offer you. I think you'll be able to find what you want wherever you're going," He said, I knew there was more, for he didn't even mention anything that I had said about not wanting to be close to him, but when he stayed silent, I knew he was finished, and that I still had more to say.

"Din, I wanted to tell you that if I had to be married, I wouldn't have minded it being you," I admitted. I would leave no stone unturned before I was to just pick up and leave forever... maybe not forever, maybe someday I would return to my family, to Din.

"I can't say I don't feel the same," He seemed to become stiff next to me, but I soon found the reason when he suddenly reached for my hand with his gloved one.

I took it proudly, intertwining our finhers together.

"You know, I was only an eight year old kid when you took the creed. I have so many memories of you yourself, but whenever I recall them... I can't see your face. I've completely forgotten what you look like," I laughed a bit, though it was quite a sad thing actually. I could not remember him in a way that wasn't covered in metal. I remembered that he was a boy once, and that he would play with all the younger children in the clan set next to his. He played with me and the kids I lived next to. He was a lively, energetic boy. Always doing something... sometimes causing mischievous acts. He was so different now. But the change wasn't bad. Since he'd taken the creed he has been the most noble, fearsome, and trustworthy member of his clan. Completely honorable in every sense of the word.

"I don't look like I used to. It wouldn't do you any good to remember anyways," He chuckled under his helmet, and it brought a smile to hear the melodic sound.

"Well, if I'd stayed long enough to marry you I would find out for myself," I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling comfort by his presence. If I had made the absolute decision to leave this planet earlier, I could have let myself grow a relationship with him. Romantic or not, he was easy to talk to, and I trusted him. He was a friend to me, and I never imagined more, but now his presence was just something that put me at such ease.

"Do you think you'll ever come back?" He pondered, seeing as just the tiniest moonrays shown down into the canyon ahead.

"Someday. I'll comeback and repay you."

"For what?"

"Saving my life," I replied. My attempt to throw my own life away had been pushed away but I had to bring it up. I owed him my life.

"Anyone would have done the same if they had seen," He insisted, and I shook my head.

"How did you even know I was out here?" My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked for an explanation.

"I couldn't sleep, I took a walk through Ronion until I found myself here. I saw you across from the mesa on the south side... I saw you lift your foot over the edge, I knew what you were trying to do," He said, his grip on my hand got tighter almost instantly.

"Thank you. If you hadn't been there, I would be at the bottm of this canyon." I let so much seriousness onto my voice, and it didn't sound like me.

"Don't thank me yet... not until I get you on the tarmac,"

We sat in silence after that, just looking out over the horizon. When the slightest bit of light hit the edge of the planet, we stood to our feet, gathering my knapsack and begining the journey to the north delivery tarmac.

We were there in no time, and before I could even look for them, Merc and his crew were in sight. They were all sitting with their backs against some cargo imports, waiting for the transport to arrive.

"Well, well, well... look at what the shriek hawk dragged in," Shyloh said, gesturing to me and Din.

"Djarin, I didn't expect to see you here," Merc raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"I'm just here to make sure she gets onto the transport safely," He assured them. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and in the brighter horizon I was able to see a cargo ship coming into the landing area.

"Our rides here," I said, and they all jumped up. Since the ships were automatically run, and don't even require droids, it was often very easy to hop aboard and be carried to another destination. Of course, there were only a few who ever wanted to leave.

I myself hadn't ever left Mandalore, neither had I traveled much even on the planet. Only a few trips to visit the the markets with my father. I never even went into the city, for it was told that in the city lived Mandalorians who did not keep the creed. The tribes were convinced that they hadn't actually ever taken the oath, and just wore the armor for the sake of doing it.

The ship's doors opened, pulling me out of my thoughts, and a conveyer belt folded down to let the cargo units be carried out onto the tarmac for later pickup.

"Alright, it's time to head out," Gander said, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and boarding the transport.

The rest followed after him, but I still had one thing left to do. 

Din looked at me, waiting for me to join the others, but I came close to him one last time.

"You promise my family will be taken care of?" I asked, to which he simply answered with a firm nod. However the look on my face gave him reason to believe that his answer wasn't good enough, so he spoke instead.

"I give you my word. If they are not taken care of, I will let you strike me dead where I stand."

That was good enough for me. He truly meant it. He was a man of his word.

I pulled his head toward mine, resting ny forehead against his in a traditional mandalorian kiss. I pulled back when I heard my name being called from the transport.

"Goodbye, Din Djarin," I told him.

He didn't respond, he just let me go, watching intently as I boarded the ship before the doors closed.

The cargo transports were always on schedule, so as soon as the doors closed, it began lifting into the air. I looked out through the transparent view finder on the side, watching him stand as we began moving out of sight.

"You gonna miss him?" Shyloh asked, his brows furrowing as if he were sorry for me.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

I lost sight of Din, and realized we were leaving the atmosphere most likely preparing for a jump to hyperspace.

"But I'll see him again."

.

.

Tags are open ig...

A/n: please don't get too caught up in the age gap y'all it's just for backstory purposes because this story is eventually going to follow canon events.... (also i know that this doesn't really portray Mandalore correctly, but let's pretend it does because i had this idea)

[megan-is-mia]

Hello! May I request #6 & #15 from the monster yandere list with Malleus? I'd like it if (Y/n)/Reader was a female human that lives amongst the fae that trust & love her to the point where they wish she became a fae like them, but don't know how.

(i hope that i fufilled the spirit of what you wanted) 6. “Beauty like yours doesn’t deserve to wilt and die like a flower, it should be as pure and untouchable like that of a diamond” 15. “How can the humans I hate have an angel such as yourself” (Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Fem! S/o)

Malleus had loved (Y/n) since the day Lilia had brought her to the castle. The then human babe was not the first nor would she not be the last child that the ancient fae would whisk away from their parents to raise as his own. However, none had ever made an impact on dragon-fae quite to this degree before. Every free moment he had was devoted to her: watching her, taking care of her, loving her. There had to be a reason for why he found himself so utterly enthralled by her. Malleus scoured the library looking for an answer to his plight. His efforts were for naught, nothing in the thousands of texts in his collection seemed to have the solution he so desperately longed for. The dragon-fae had to admit defeat to this enchanting human, and try to move on with his life despite his lingering curiosity. As the years flew by and (Y/n) grew into a beautiful young woman, it began to dawn on him why it was impossible to get her out of his head. It was love that he was feeling, he was in love with the human! If only that knowledge had allowed him some peace instead of torturing him further. Of all the humans he could have fallen for it had to be the one human he could not have. Lilia loved his human foundlings more than life itself and he would not allow any fae have them, not even Malleus who he loved like a son. The fae-king found himself falling into despair. What was he to do? A wicked plan began to form in his mind, he only needed an opening to put it into action. When the moment came he took it, striking (Y/n) down with a sleeping spell, hiding her away where Lilia would never find her.

Her sleeping face was so beautiful to him, he almost didn’t want to wake her. However, there was only so much he could do with her in this state so with some reluctance he lifted the spell. Slowly (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered open and she looked around confusedly before her gaze locked onto him. Her mouth opened but no words came out as she tried to crawl away from him with little success. “How can the humans I hate have an angel such as yourself” Malleus said more to himself than to (Y/n) as he approached her and bent down to gaze at her. “You needn’t be afraid my sweet (Y/n) I mean you no harm. I just needed to get you away from your father so I could tell you of a dire matter” he said, reaching forward to stroke her cheek as she sat frozen with fear before him. “You see… I have been in love with you for a very long time… I think I have loved you since the first time Lilia let me hold you when you were but a babe” Malleus said, continuing to stroke the girl’s face. “But there are a few problems in the way of me loving you as I wish to. The first is your father’s refusal to allow anyone, even me, to court you. That is an issue I am already busy finding a solution too” he said with a coo.

“The second problem is your human nature. You have been aging far too quickly and you will die far too soon for my liking. Therefore I am going to fix you” he explained softly. “Fix me?” (Y/n) asked in a squeaky voice. “Yes, I’m going to fix you by making you immortal like I am. After all, Afterall beauty like yours doesn’t deserve to wilt and die like a flower, it should be as pure and untouchable like that of a diamond” he replied with a grin. “Now I won't lie to you and say that this will be painless but I promise you it will all be worth it” Malleus said forcing (Y/n) to lay down flat. “In fact, you’ll probably thank me after we’re done and I will make sure that as long as we both live you will never feel such pain again” he added kissing her cheek before starting to cast the spell to change her. He ignored her screams, knowing it was only temporary and soon his bride would be perfect… THE END

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209​ @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

[highsviolets]

INTERVIEW NO. 1: RACHEL @djarinsbeskar

hello hello! i am so happy to announce that rachel — aka the immense talent that is @djarinsbeskar — has agreed to be my first interviewee for this new series! thank you to rach and to each one of you for all of your support. to read more about the project, click here, and to submit an author, click here.

| why rachel? |

Rachel captured my imagination from the first time we interacted as mutuals-in-law. She’s bursting with energy and vivaciousness, with a current of kindness just underneath everything she does. Her work is no exception. Oftentimes gritty, raw, and exposing (in … ahem…more ways than one), Rachel challenges her readers to dig deeper into both the story and themselves. Her smut brings a particular fire as it’s laced with need, desire, and mutual trust that leads us deeper into the characters’ identities and how physical affection can mimic other forms of intimacy. She’s a tour de force in this fandom and an absolute joy.

| known for |

Engaging with and encouraging other authors, cultivating inspo posts, attention to world building & character development

| my favorites |

Stitches

Boxer!Din

Full Masterlist • Ko-Fi

| q & a |

When did you start writing? What was that project, and what was it like? Has that feeling or process ever changed over time? Why?

I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing. I was an avid reader, as I think most writers are—and I remember, after picking up Lord of the Rings—that I could live so many lives, experience so many things, all from the pages of a book. I could make sense of the world through words and ink and paper. And it offered me a level of peace and clarity I wanted to share with others. So, I started writing.

My first project I remember to this day, was a short story about a dog. I had been so heartbroken when I learned that dogs were colourblind. I must have been about seven or eight at the time, and I was fixated on this idea that dogs couldn’t see the vibrant hues that made the world beautiful. It was something I wanted to change—and with all the righteous anger of a child not getting their own way, I sulked over the fact that I couldn’t. Until I wrote it down.

“How do dogs see colour?”

And much like my writing today, I answered myself.

“Dogs don’t need to see colour. Dogs smell colour.”

And so, I wrote a story, about a puppy being brought on different walks by its owner. And with every new street it walked down—colour bloomed with scent. Colours more beautiful and vibrant than we could ever hope to see with our eyes. And it gave me solace and helped me work through an emotion that – granted was immature and inconsequential – had affected me. To this day, I still smile seeing dogs sniffing at everything they pass on their walks. Smelling colour. It gave me the key to my favourite thing in life. I don’t think my process has changed much since then. Much of what I write is based on a skeleton plan, but I leave room for characters to speak and feel as they need to. I like to know the starting point and destination of a chapter—but how they get there, that still falls to instinct. I think I’ve found a happy medium of strict planning and winging it that suits me now—and hopefully it will continue to improve over time!

When did you start posting your writing, and on what platform? What gave you the push to do that?

I mean, fanfiction has always been part of my life. I think anyone who was growing up in the late 2000’s and early 2010’s found their way to fanfiction.net at some time or other. The wild west compared to what we have now! My first post was for the Lord of the Rings fandom on fanfiction.net. It was an anthology of the story told through the eyes of the steeds. Bill the Pony, Shadowfax—it was all very innocent. That was probably in 2010 when I was fifteen. I had been wanting to share writing for a long time but was worried about how it would be received. I didn’t really have a gauge on my level or my creativity and – one of the many flaws of someone with crippling perfectionism – I only ever wanted to provide perfection. That was a major inhibitor when I was younger. By wanting it to be perfect, I never posted anything. Until that stupidly cute LOTR fic. It was freeing to write something that no one but me had any interest in, because if I was writing for myself then there was no one to disappoint, right? And that was all it took. I had some pauses over the years between college and life and such, but I’ve never lost that mindset when it comes to posting.

What your favorite work of yours that you have ever written? Why is it your favorite? What is more important to you when considering your own stories for your own enjoyment — characters? fandom? spice? emotional development? the work you’ve put into it? Is that different than what you enjoy reading most in other people’s fics?

I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise when I say Stitches. While not original, I mean—it follows the plot of the Mandalorian quite diligently, it is the piece of work I really hold very close to my heart. Din Djarin as a character is what got me back into writing after what must have been five years? He inspired something. His manner, his personality—he resonated with me as a person in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. And gave me back a creative outlet I had been missing.

It’s funny to say out loud—but I wanted to give him something? I spent so long thinking about his character that half my brain felt like it belonged to him—how he reacted and responded to things etc. and of course, like every dreamy Pisces—I wanted to give him love and happiness. So, Stitches came along. Personally, when writing—it’s a combination of characters, emotional development and spice (I can’t help myself) and when we can follow that development. With Stitches, it’s definitely the spice that is the conduit for development—but I adore showing how the physical can help people who struggle to communicate emotions too complex for words.

I don’t usually read for Din, as most people know—but I do enjoy reading the type of work that Stitches is. Human, damaged—but still with an undercurrent of hope that makes me think of children’s books.

You said, “much like writing today, I answered myself.” Could you talk about that in relation to Stitches?

So, I’m endlessly curious, it has to be said. Especially about why people are the way they are. Why people do A instead of B. Why X person’s immediate thought went to this place instead of that place. And I’m rarely satisfied with superficial explanations. One of the most exciting parts of writing and fanfiction especially, is making sense of that why. There can be countless explanations, some that are content with what is seen on the surface and some that go deep and some that go even deeper still.

Stitches is almost a – very long winded and much too long – answer to the questions I was so intrigued by about Din Djarin, about the Mandalorian and about the Star Wars universe as a whole. I often wondered what happened to people after the Rebellion, the normal people who fought—the people in the background. What did they do next? Did some of them suffer from PTSD? What was the galaxy like right after the Empire fell? That first season of the Mandalorian answered some of those questions, but I wanted to know more. So, I created a reader insert who was a combat medic—and through her, I let myself answer the questions of what happened next.

Regarding Din as a character, I wanted to know what a bounty hunter with a code of honour would do in certain situations—what made him tick, what made hm vulnerable. I wanted to explore the discovery of his identity. Din Djarin didn’t exist after he was taken from Aq Vetina. He became a cog in a very efficient machine of Mandalorians—and it was safe there. I wanted to see what – or who – might encourage him to step into his own. Grogu was that person in a familial sense, but what about romantically? What about individually? There’s so much to explore with this man! So many facets of personality and nuances of character that make him so gorgeous to write and think about.

Talk to me about the Din Djarin Athletic Universe. How does Din as all of these forms of athlete play off who you see him as in canon?

The Athletic Universe! How I adore my athletes. Despite being in a modern setting, I have kept the core of Din’s character in each of them (at least I hope I have!). I like to divide Din’s character into three phases when it comes to canon because he’s not as immovable as people seem to think he is. We discussed this before, how I see Din as a water element—adaptable, but strong enough that he can be as steadfast as rock. But I digress, the first phase is the character we see in the first episode. Basically, before Grogu. There’s an aggressive brutality to Din when we see him bounty hunting. He works on autopilot and isn’t swayed by sob stories or promises. He has the covert but is ultimately separate. Those soft feelings he comes to recognise when he has Grogu are dormant – not non-existent – but they haven’t been nurtured or encouraged. This is the point I extracted Boxer!Din’s personality and story from.

Cyclist!Din on the other hand—is already a father, a biological father to Grogu. And his personality, I took from that moment in the finale of Season two where I believe Din’s transformative arc of character solidified. He was always a father to Grogu, but I do believe that moment where he removes his helmet is the moment, he accepts that role fully in his heart and mind. And that is why I don’t believe for a second, that removing his helmet was him breaking his Creed. In fact, I believe it was the purest act he could do in devotion to his Creed—to his foundling, to his son. The Cyclist!AU is very much the character I see canon Din having should Grogu have stayed with him. This single dad who isn’t quite sure how he got to where he is now—but does anything and everything for his child without thought. It’s a natural instinct for him, and I like exploring those possibilities with Cyclist!Din.

You also said, “he has the covert but is ultimately separate.” What does it take for him — and you — to get to that point of being ‘not separate?’

I mentioned this above, but one of the biggest interests I have in Din as a character is his identity. He’s a Mandalorian, he’s a bounty hunter, he’s the child’s guardian but those are all what he is, not who. I think Din is separate while being part of the covert because he doesn’t know. I don’t think anyone can really be part of something if they don’t know who they are or, they struggle with their identity. It’s curious to me—how you can deceive even yourself to mimic the standard set for the many. In the boxer verse, he identifies himself in relation to his boxing—and every part of his outward personality exhibits those qualities. But when he’s given a softer touch—an outlet of affection, and comfort—we see the softer side of him surface. It’s very much the same with Stitches Din. Identity is like anything, emotions—relationships, bodies. It needs nurturing to thrive, an open door—a safe space. At least, that’s what goes through my mind when I think of him.

Who is your favorite character to read?

Frankie because there are so many ways his character can be interpreted and there are some stellar versions of him that I think of at least once a day. Javi because he reminds me of kintsugi-- golden recovery, broken pottery where the cracks are highlighted with gold. I also adore reading for Boba Fett, Paz Viszla and the clones!

Is there anything else you want your readers to know about you, your writing, or your creative process?

Hmm... only that I am quite literally a gremlin clown who is always here to chat Din, Star Wars, literature, book recs and anything else under the sun! I like to hear people's stories, their opinions etc. it helps me see things from alternative points of view and can truly help the writing process! Other than that, I think I can only thank readers for putting up with my ridiculously long chapters and rambling introspection. Thank you for indulging me always! ❤️

[deniigi]

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

 --

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

 ---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

 --------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

 -----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

 -----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[dancingwiththeplanets]

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader 

     masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

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“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried.  The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

------------------------

You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.  

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair.  He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.  

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um,  my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him. 

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know. 

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly. 

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it. 

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended. 

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.  

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant. 

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

------------------------

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.  

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.  

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you? 

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”  

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”  

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

------------------------

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.  

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it. 

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

---------------------

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

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a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes. 

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Taglist: @wandsmith​ 💖

[thefanbasewhore]

United as One. || Part 1.

Summary: Din returns home after fulfilling his mission of saving his foundling, after completing it he can now claim his rightful spot as clan leader. There is one problem he needs a wife to secure the future of his clan but his clan is not to happy with his choice and they make that very clear.

Warning/content: None for this part except for blood, wounds and angst but future ones will be 18+, have mature themes, pregnancy and etc. This does contain chapter 16 spoilers!!! No use of y/n. 

Clan leader Din AU. Also not edited because im lazy. 

paring: din djarin/female reader

Part 2. || Master post. 

Din holds the child close, it's a bittersweet moment as Grogu is finally untied with his father. Tears threaten the Mandalorian's eyes, he's thankful of helmet at this very moment. His eyes find her, another reason to get emotional. He realizes just how much she’s grown on him during this journey, and could easily admit he didn’t want to say good bye. She can't help it as her own eyes gloss over as the words are said. Din leans over, cool helmet flushing against the warmth of her  forehead. “Now that the child is safe I must return to my clan.”

"I'm glad we found him Din, I'm glad you can go back home." Din sighs, the leather pad of gloves rubbing the highest point of her cheek, soaking in the feeling of skin. "I wish you could stay."

“It’s my obligation." Din mumbles, metal kisses her ear as he presses his forehead into the her collarbone. He was close, never wanting to let go as he pulls her in as much as the child will allow against his chest. "The clan needs me, I'm to be the new leader."

"I know, someone out there needs you more than I do." It's a whisper only meant for his ears, the rough edges of his visor meets her face, surprised at the words. She can’t see it, the way his bottom lip quivers with emotion, the longing eyes that just want her. Those words mean something to him. 

“Come with me, I can’t be without you.” he admits, he wishes Boba and Fennec weren't close by, he wishes he can tell her to shut her eyes so he can feel the softness of lips, the rush that fills him whenever he kisses her. Pink, soft and plump, the perfect fit for his own.

"Din I'm not -."

Din doesn't allow any excuses, "I love you. I need you."

"You're making this hard." Tears swell immediately, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth with a soft sob, disguising it as a laugh. Din doesn’t move a single muscle, just stares intensely. 

"Please." He begs, the hand against her cheek lowers to her hip fingers pressing in attempt to close the gap between the two.. Grogu's soft fingers touch her collarbones, his own quiet plea. Cheeks rise to form wrinkles under eyes as her smile makes Din's heart rate increase.

"Okay. I'll go." Din let's out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, chest expanding once again, a ghost of a smile. 

"I wish I could kiss you Cyar'ika, I am so thankful for you." Din's heart felt like it was going to explode, the unbearable emptiness of leaving her here was suddenly gone. "You're are my other half. I can't wait to share my home with you."

While the ride was long, Din manages to make it manageable, he tells stories of his clan, talks about the different types of foods, the ceremony that will be held in days time when he arrives. It’s cute.. how passionate he is about his people. It never really hit her before.. Din is to be a leader of his clan and it fits him, a little to perfect. He’s a protector but caring, it’s the perfect blend for one. 

Din's fingers squeeze her own as the ship lands, reinsuring as he senses the nervousness seeing her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Standing tall, stiff and uncomfortable. "It's going to be okay, you look nervous."

"I am nervous." Fidgeting with the hem of tunic says it all, he leans in closer he smell of him is almost enough, but the warmth is what really calms her down. Din's fingers fill the gaps in-between hers, his own little way of saying he's here, there's no reason to be nervous.

The ramp of the ship is slowly opening while her eyes dart over his side profile over and over again; of course it’s just his helmet, but somewhere in those points of basker bring comfort. The moment he does notice, she’s blushing, caught but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

"There's no reason to be, I'll always protect you my love." There it is, the love of the man that got her nto this in the first place. It's a small gesture, a glove hand pressing softly into her cheek, dragging across smooth skin. "I mean it, I'd do anything for you."

Her mouth open to say the same words back but the smell of fresh pine, earthy tones of moisture are distracting, there is absolutely nothing, just trees and dirt that run for miles. The small child is asleep but stirs in the bag that wraps across his neck and down his side. 

"We have to hike there." The Mandalorian throws a pack over his shoulder, hand finding slipping into hers again. "The clan survives by being a secret, no one but us must know the location."

"Not even Boba?"

Din's eyes drag along her face, looking back at herself in the reflection of his helmet. "No, he is not a Mandalorian."

"Either am I." Din steps out in front of her, hands still crossed in each other, extending it until your feet move out from under her.

"You're with me, no one will say anything." He pauses, slight amusement in his voice. "If they know what's good for them."

"Come on." Despite Din controlling the pace it does not meet up to expectations as he pulls her closer and slightly in front of him. "Stay right next to me and we have to move quicker, it gets dangerous around here at night time."

Dark was near, hanging right over the horizon as the planet’s sun begins to set lower, it was quieter then when she first arrived, the small animals and bugs of the forest seemed to also agree with Din.

The big fill moon on display provides just the amount of light needed to maneuver the thick brush and trees. It’s peaceful, beautiful, the forest is different hues of greens, pinks and blues from growing flowers make the trip just a little more bearable. 

 It’s serenity, peaceful and ebbing so gently throughout the darkness. Din’s hand never leaves her own except when he drapes his cape over shuddering shoulders, or to check on the child, the darkness brought a chill with it. 

It’s happens in an instant, suddenly all of her breath is knocked out of as Din pushes her with a shout, “Get down!” Protective hands press accidently press her face against the foliage of the forest, the heavy body shielding her own from harm.

Large sharp spikes take wing above them. Both of their hearts thump at the crunching of leaves in the distance with the snapping branches falling all around when a loud unhuman sound fills the air, a growl so close she couldn’t decide if the hot air was it was coming from under Din’s helmet or snapping of jaws in front of her face. It’s covered in fur black red eyes peering as it’s long claws reached for both of her but Din is quicker, his fingers grasp her hips, yanking up and pushing her back as he secures the bag against his chest. “Run!” 

The sounds of chanting could be heard, a group large in numbers just ahead in the tree line, a large bright light that an only resemble a large fire burning, the smell makes her nose twitch, it’s so close but very very far for the predicament the pair find themselves in. 

She couldn’t breath, air ways blocked by paralyzing fear that swirls deep inside of her stomach sending her whole body into a frenzy. Feet ran with a blur, not being make out anything due to how fast she were going, the pitch dark didn’t help either, but Din was were to guide her, with one slip up he was pushing her into the right direction.  Alarms and bells began to sing, loud drums as chaos broke out, yelling and the sound of blasters as she finally hit the tree line. Din’s finger press into her shoulder to finally stop her from running, the beast did not dare past the tree line.

Only because of what in habited it. Loud wheezing falls from burning lungs, long, shallow breaths as she lean one hand against the ground for support. It was obvious her body was still in flight mode when hands try to touch her face only to be pushed away with brutal force. 

“It’s me, it’s just me. Breath with me.” The Mandalorian’s face is in front of her own, pressing his hand against the swells of her chest to remind her to breath. As her body starts to calm, it feels hot. The sound of crackling and popping as scarlet flames dance right in behind her, Din doesn’t like the close proximity as he stands between her and the warmth. 

“Come over here, you’re too close to the fire.” As she starts to take in the rest of the environment she can’t help but notice the faces around them, well some were faces the rest were similar to Din, the helmets weren’t as seek, silver as him but a variety of different shaped eyes, symbols and lines. Now she understood why the creature didn’t dare cross the forest lines. There was a small amount of commotion, some eyes question her but the majority seek out Din.

“The Mand’lor has returned.” Din nods in acknowledgment, hands pulling his girl from the ground. Din’s fingers swipe her hair from her forehead as he sees the look of disapproval on the few bare faces. 

“Listen to me.” He pleads, watching as a smaller woman, elder woman slowly ascends towards them. “Anyone can challenge rank in the clan, you must fight if need be.”

“Wh-What?” Wide eyes meet his visor, stomach twisting as Din’s words stun her. It was too late, the elder’s staff is pressing against her throat harshly. “Who is this woman you’ve brought us?”

The growl that Din lets out is enough to scare that monster in the woods, it’s protective, frustrated but expected, how did he ever think his people would accept a outsider? especially a non-mandalorian one. The elder sneers at her, different symbols of no legitimacy are painted against her forehead, black charcoal lines that reach to her lips. “Let her go. She’s with me.”

The elder’s eyes shift towards Din. While Din may be the leader of the clan, the elders are responsible for making sure the rules are followed, guidance for such a leader. The pressure releases from her throat but the venom in her tone says it all. “She doesn’t belong here.”

If a staff to the point of almost unconsciousness doesn’t say you’re not welcomed here the words make her cheeks red with embarrassment. Din’s fingers find her shoulder quickly, pulling her against his chest protectively. Eyes turn in disgust as they realize, the way he flushes her against him, his willingness to protect her. It’s wrong, so very wrong to the clan but Din doesn’t care. All eyes are on him as he steps in front of her, the child now awake is shoved against her chest, Din’s fists ball against his sides, he’s strong, sturdy like a wall as the crowd meets his own gaze. “She is under my protection, if anyone wants a challenge, they go through me first.” 

Just like the the tension leaves the air, no one dares to step forward as the cold, icy gaze of the visor warns them, then to the elder that stands a few feet from him. “Is that understood?”

Watching all these people cower at his words makes her throat dry, Din Djarin was passionate, a little rough around the edges but never this scary. Shaky finger rub against her throbbing throat as another wheeze leaves her burning throat. Without a second glance Din is dragging her along the field, the peaks of houses just over the land. 

“Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, only presses herself into his hold as they near one of the biggest huts in the field. 

“Where are we?” It’s cold, but clean. Neatly organized books against the walls, a fireplace with two comfy leather chairs, the kitchen is small, almost right next to the living room but it is cozy. Din manages to find some matches to light the room up, “My home.”

The child fights against her grasp as she sits down on the brown chair, large dark eyes meeting her own as he lets out a whine of frustration. . It doesn’t register, everything happening to quickly doesn’t give her time to even breath as she looks up at the Mandalorian.  When Grogu is finally free, he manages to find the other chair, curling up comfortably in it “What just happened?”

Din tries to speak but she decides for him. “They don’t want me here, why did you bring me here?”

Din shakes his head, falling between her thighs, hands press against them with intent to comfort but it makes her more frustrated. “They’re not used to strangers, and you’re not Mandalorian, it caught them by surprise.”

“Din I saw the way they looked at me, that old lady almost murdered me. “Did you know it was going to be like this?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, bringing his helmet forward to her shoulder. “Yes but no one will challenge you for now, not until you’re part of the clan.”

“No one wants me here.” Tears of frustration slip past eyelashes, rejection sitting deep inside the pit of her stomach.

“Sweet girl.” Din’s covers her eyes with his palm using the other to pull the helmet off placing it next to him. “Close your eyes.”

Even if she wanted to she couldn’t open them, they’re too heavy with emotion as Din presses his fingers against tears, wiping them gently. “No tears, for the love of maker, no tears.”

“I-I’m -” Din doesn’t let her finish, instead he uses his lips to taste the salty mixture that formulated from her pain, lips meet hers gently. 

“They will love you, they haven’t seen a stranger since I left two years ago, give it time.” Din promises, hands wrap around just below her breast, pulling her against his chest. “The clan is sacred, they just see -.”

“An outsider.” The sourness of the words taste strange in her mouth, “Why did you bring me here then?”

“I love you.” It’s the first time those words move past those lips, “I can’t be without you.”

It’s hours later when Din returns to the tent, while many hours have past she was still asleep. The bed was comfortable, stuffed with feathers, covered in layers and layers of animal pelts. Soft fur smooth against skin, perfect for the chilly night.

The child notices, instantly perking up to extend his arms out to his father. The foundling coos as Din’s hands hold him close to his chest, “Hey buddy, are you hungry?”

The next few days are almost enough to make her regret coming with Din, she’s alone half the time, Din leaves her for what he called ‘very important business, and snarled at when she leaves the hut. Never in her life has she felt so.. unwelcomed, out of place. She has never been a person to care about things like these, but the child was soon becoming her only source of social interaction and everyone knows how well that is. 

“What are you doing out here?” Din’s voice startles her, the child in her arms jumps as she does. 

Eyes shift in confusion at the Mandalorian, the raspiness of his voice, hands bare but open cuts painted across them, dried blood show signs of a struggle as she tits her head. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about sweet girl.” The hand finds the crown of her head, rubbing the hair softly, then to the child’s head before disappearing silently into the hut, while it was very Din the tone of his voice was very uncharacteristic. 

“Din?” It’s much later in the night, so late that they should both be fast asleep like the child tucked between them. Din’s helmet reflects the dying fire across the room, despite the inches of distance between them it felt like miles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sighs, turning onto his side so he can look at her. He was stripped down to a thinner tunic, comfortable pants rid of all amour except his helmet, the fire was still alive. “It’s just -.”

He cuts himself off, bringing his hands forward to her hips fingers dig into the flesh to pull her close against him. “What is it?”

“The elders.. they don’t like that I brought you here.”

“i know that.”

Din turns his back towards the fire, the broadness of him dimming the room almost instantly. The helmet falls to the floor with a thud, lips meet the junction between her clavicle and sternum, nose pressing against her skin. “I want you to stay here with me.”

“I don’t feel welcomed here, no one even knowledge me.”

“Marry me.” The words make her choke, body momentarily freezing as fingers release his hair. Din freezes as well, not believing the words fell from his lips so easily.

“If you marry me, they will have no choice but to accept you. You will be my queen.” A pregnant pause falls amongst them, Din doesn’t dare move from his spot but pushes further. “They will make me take a wife anyways, I want it to be you.”

Emotion is heavy in her throat, “It feels forced, you’re only doing this for me. For you can have me.”

“I’m doing this because I love you, I want you to stay with me. The elders have no control over what I’m saying to you. I want you to marry me because I love you.” The words aren’t forced, they’re spoken with carefulness but freely mumbled against her chest.

“Marry me, I’ve always known you’d be my riduur from the moment I met you.”

A/N: I swear its going to get much better, first chapters are always so slow. Thank you for reading, I’m accepting tags just comment below, thank you!

[inkerii]

Watching fandom reactions to the new ep of the Mandalorian- sorry, Book of Boba Fett (totally did this on purpose to be snarky haha totally did not actually slip up and called the series the wrong name, Disney pls I dont even care for Boba Fett but this is wrong), and I feel like... it's okay to be ambivalent about it? I feel both "sides" have a point here.

Grogu ultimately does need someone like Luke in the sense that he can help harness his powers, because when you're force sensitive it really is important to have proper training. And there IS some truth to asking Din if he's here for Grogu or for himself... Dude just lost his foundling and then his entire way of life, it's natural that he would be drawn to the one person who brought him happiness who he could still reach.

Which brings me to the infamous attachment discourse.

So first of all, yea, Luke did not actually appeal to his father's "attachment" to him. Anakin had to learn to let go and accept his death and accept that he wouldn't be able to be with his son, and that would be okay bc he'd be safe and happy even if he himself couldn't. Luke, who despite the situation had a bond with his father, had to let go and accept that he would die despite his best attempts to save him. ROTJ Luke is compassionate and firm about saving his father without the frenzied fear that led him to be very sloppy, reckless and cost him his hand and nearly his life in Cloud City... for the most part. He does give in to fear and then anger when Palpatine pokes and prods him but he regains his senses this time :'D

Remember, to Lucas, attachment is not a positive word. It's the same as greed and posessiveness. When it comes to people, it's when you're *unhealthily* attached to someone. Your entire world revolves around them to the point where loosing them would drive you mad.

HOWEVER.

Saying that "the devs are finally writing about the Force the right way and everyone is wrong" is also a step too far. A lot of fans these days grew up with the clone wars. Y'know, the series whose director explicitly said multiple times that for all their good intentions, their system and the way the Jedi did things WERE flawed and half the point of the series was to show how Palpatine exploited the weaknesses of the Order. It's literally shown in the canon of the show, btw, not just in interviews. I firmly believe in giving Luke the benefit of the doubt here since we don't know if this is more of a test for Grogu, but having him not try to correct the flaws of the Jedi Order IS weird if that's what he's really doing.

The basic philosophy of the Jedi isnt inherently wrong, but the way they were applying that philosophy in the prequels WAS flawed and it showed to Luke- to a smaller degree bc both Yoda and Obi-Wan had grown over the past 20-ish years, but it was there. Them being flawed is no reason to hate them (I find them fascinating! If they were 100% perfect it would be much more boring) but people CAN be upset and confused as to why Luke is behaving as though he has no intention to change even the issues that have costed the Jedi everything. The Jedi's main flaw was that in legit trying their best, they had grown *too* detached and did not always know how to handle trauma and other complex emotional situations, such as in regard to Anakin's fears and Luke's terror at the vision of his friends when they were captured by Vader. They meant well, but the way they dealt with it was.... not the best. You'd expect Luke to try to do better in regards to Grogu's trauma and subsequent attachment (which, thanks to him not being able to talk, we dont know the extent of) to the one source of security in his life since the clone wars, which is, by the way, very similar to Anakin's own attachment to the single source of peace, security and joy as a slave. It shows how Grogu's bond with Din COULD be dangerous but it also shows that Luke really should not be treating it the same way the Jedi did with his father.

As a side note, it's starting to really bug me when people start saying that Legends Luke is wrong and didnt understand the force as Lucas intended, etc etc. Yes, Luke was more moderate than the Jedi before him, in which he did take a wife and have children, but this does not mean he didn't understand the importance of selfless love and compassion and the need to let go sometimes. I'm sure not every writer was the same, and I'm sure more than one wrote the Jedi/Force wrong, but (and spoilers for a decade old book but I highly recommend you read it) for example, I distinctively remember that in the second book of the Hand of Thrawn duology, Luke talked to Mara about how sometimes you have to let go of the thing you value most (the thing you're most attached to, wink wink). By the end of the book, despite having a vision of Mara seemingly dead (like his father!! and the book came out before the prequels even did!), Luke still put his faith in the Force, accepted that she might die no matter what he did, and went through with his plan. Mara did not die, but Luke was prepared to let go of her if need be, despite being in love with her at this point. Mara herself had to give up on her ship, which had been her greatest attachment (as it represented a sense of safety, security and home, something she did not have for a long time), because it was what needed to be done. Luke was just able to not let his fear of loss override his senses, and he was able to coach others, such as Mara, through the process of letting go without freaking out as well.

Basically for Legends attachment did not have the same meaning as for Lucas. It did not mean greed/posessiveness, it meant just having relationships with people. Luke allowing marriage and the building of families in the EU and not wanting to imagine his life without his own did not inherently go against the philosophy of the Jedi because ultimately he was prepared to let go and trust the Force if need be, and he (at least in the books I've read *shrug*) attempted to teach his Order to love the ones dear to them without getting unhealthily attached, so like. Lay off EU Luke, pretty please with a cherry on top? George has had a negative view of marriage since his divorce and has said before he believes it to lead to attachment in the negative view of the word, which is a very controversial opinion to say the least.

It's understandable that this causes confusion in the fandom but seriously, please.

Anyway, to get back to it, I really do think both sides have a point here. There's a truth to what Luke is trying to teach Grogu, but you'd expect him to be more tactful about it based on what TCW has shown about the flaws of the jedi way in the prequels (TCW, not the EU. People are upset bc this goes against what CANON has said about the Jedi, they're not trying to enforce EU views upon disney's canon).

Imo, I DO really hope this is leading to a more moderate/balanced view of bonds with others. It bothers me that they seem to be contrasting detachment as the Jedi way vs loyalty (attachment as the EU saw it) as the Mandalorian way. Do I trust Disney to handle this nicely? lol, no. But I'll continue to watch on the sidelines andat least try not to bother too much about it, since lately I just pick and choose what I like from Star Wars (aside from hard canon like TCW + the 6 movies) these days. Its healthier for the soul :'D

PS: Also also, I dont even like Boba Fett this much but I weep for the unrealized potential this show had. Even if you brought in the Mandalorian, contrasting Boba and Fennec wanting out of the bounty hunting system to Din who still uses hunting for his own goals to people like Cad Bane who are oldschool bounty hunters would have been one hell of a story. Hope Boba gets a few lines in on the next ep I guess.

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter one || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: When you land on Corvus, you and Din both realize you’re more nervous about finding Ahsoka Tano than you thought.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst | Word Count: 3k 

Warnings: Mentions of reader’s pregnancy

A/N: When will God stop my sinful hand? Never, and I’ll keep writing for Mr. and Mrs. Djarin as long as it gives me serotonin like this. This series is a pretty distinct tonal shift from Dralshy’a Ka’ra, which was all sunshine, but I really wanted to do another episode rewrite and I thought chapter 13 had such great potential for family bonding and hurt/comfort. I hope you like it! ♡

“Corvus. This is the place.”

Your husband’s voice broke the silence that had filled the cockpit, and you looked up to see a cloudy green planet steadily growing bigger beyond the glass. Bright glimpses of magma core peeked through the dense atmosphere. The display on the Crest’s instrument panel gave a friendly chirp and outlined the planet’s main hubs, one of which was the city of Calodan. Your stomach gave an unpleasant jolt at the name and you tried to still the slight trembling of your hands, looking for something to distract you from your impending arrival on the planet.

You held an unfinished project in your hands, a soft little baby romper made of navy blue cotton. Din had gotten you the fabric while you were staying on Naboo - though he’d gotten it for you to make something for yourself, he hadn’t minded when you told him you were going to use a little of it to make something for your babies. You’d already stitched up a handsome little shirt for your son, and now you were working on something for your new baby.

Resting your hand over your stomach, you gave a small sigh and thought over the last month. Omera had wanted you to try and steer clear of danger as much as possible, for your sake and the baby’s, but danger followed your little family with an uncanny determination. The Mandalorians you’d found on Trask had turned out to be an entirely different kind than the one you’d known, taking their helmets off as if their creed meant nothing, roping your husband into a dangerous, fruitless mission in exchange for their help. But they’d also helped save your little one, and you’d be forever indebted to them for it.

You shuddered. You couldn’t think about that day for long before you grew panicky, nervous to let your son out of your sight lest he be swallowed up like that again. You and Din had both had nightmares about it, about what could have happened to Din or your baby on that ship. You could have lost a child and been widowed in the blink of an eye had it not been for Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians, and the thought made you sick with fear and worry even now.

Then you’d gone to Nevarro, and Din had gone off on another mission to destroy an Imperial base. You and your husband had argued about it, but he eventually brought you around - Cara and Greef were your friends, and they’d always helped you when you needed it. It was time to return the favor, even if it meant you’d be fretting in the back of a schoolroom the entire time they were gone. 

Your husband’s return hadn’t been the triumphant victory you’d expected - Din had rushed in, wasting no breath on explanations, and taken you and the baby back to the ship for a hasty departure. It was just your luck that your escape from Nevarro had devolved into a dogfight with Imperial TIE-fighters, and your poor husband had endured no small amount of ranting from you when things settled back down. You were angry and worried, petrified by the thought of the experiments the Imperial warlords wanted to perform on your little one.

And now, you were approaching the planet that sheltered the Jedi you’d been tasked to find. The Jedi you were then supposed to hand your baby over to, because she was one of “his kind”. You felt a now-familiar wash of unease come over you, and worried your bottom lip to try and keep it in check.

“I’ve detected a beacon,” Din said, looking over at the display. Your baby sat up on the dash next to him, watching his movements with interest.

Din worked around him, pressing buttons and flipping switches in preparation for landing. “I’m gonna start the landing cycle,” he said. He glanced down at your son. “You better get back in your seat.”

The baby didn’t move from the dash, giving a soft coo of protest. You noticed the silver handle was back on the gear shift and smiled a little, knowing that was what held your little one’s attention enough for him to disregard his dad’s instruction. 

Din took his focus from the landing cycle long enough to realize his son hadn’t done as he was told.

“Hey, what did I tell you?” he said, in a mildly scolding tone. “Back in your seat.”

Your baby’s ears drooped. Setting aside your sewing project, you rose and gathered him into your arms.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you crooned, cuddling him close. “Your daddy’s so grumpy, isn’t he?”

He gave a babble of agreement, and Din huffed a laugh.

“I’ll be more grumpy if he tumbles off the dash while we’re landing.”

“That’s not true,” you told your baby. “Daddy would hold you and kiss it better. He couldn’t be grumpy with you if he tried.” As stoic as your husband seemed on the outside, he was as gentle as could be underneath all that armor. 

He flipped another switch and looked over his shoulder at you.

“You alright, cyare?” he asked gently. “You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

Usually you could be counted on to keep up a steady stream of conversation if you decided to stay with Din in the cockpit rather than roam around the ship. For this trip, though, you’d been uncharacteristically quiet. You knew Din shared your fears about finally meeting this Jedi, but you were completely tangled up in knots about it and hadn’t wanted to burden him.

You shook your head and held your baby closer. “I’m fine. Just... tired, I guess.”

You were a little run down, especially since morning sickness had started to give you some trouble, but you’d had much worse and would muscle through it. Besides, you couldn’t really afford to slow down, and both you and Din knew it.

“I would have thought you’d be relieved to have a little peace and quiet,” you teased lightly. He’d told you when you first started courting that the Crest had never heard so much talking until you came aboard.

He chuckled. “I like listening to you talk, cyare.” He eased the Crest into the atmosphere, a task that was second nature after so many years with the same ship. He glanced over at the little romper you’d laid on the dash.

“You finished it?” he asked.

You picked it up; your baby grabbed it in his clawed hand.

“Gentle,” you reminded him. “This is for ik’aad, remember?” Din had used the Mandalorian word for “baby” to tell your son your happy news, and it had stuck. Even now, your little one’s ears perked up at the nickname.

You smiled when he brushed his fingers over the fabric with a gentler touch and gave a soft coo.

“I haven’t finished it yet,” you said to Din. “I want to do some embroidery on it, if I can find the right thread - I was thinking little snowflakes along the collar.”

Your baby would be born during the winter on Sorgan, and even though you knew it was early yet, you’d taken great comfort and joy in working on this outfit. 

Din held out his hand. “May I see?”

You handed it to him, and it seemed delicate and very small in his big hands. He ran a finger over the collar.

“You’ve done a beautiful job so far, cyar’ika,” he said, and you felt your cheeks pink a little at the tenderness of his compliment.

“Thank you,” you said. You put your son down in your seat and took the romper from your husband’s hand.

“Stay put, and be good for dad,” you told your little one. “I’ll be right back.”

You gathered up your sewing odds and ends and took them down to the second level of the Crest, tucking them safely away in the small chest you kept your mending in. A shirt of Din’s that had torn at the shoulder seam was half-folded at the bottom, and you took a moment to neaten it and steady yourself before you went back up to the cockpit.

Ahsoka Tano was her name. It was the only thing you knew about her, besides the fact that she was a Jedi. You didn’t know what she looked like, or who she worked for, or how she would train your little one. She might be cruel and mean-tempered, for all you knew - how could you just hand your foundling over to her?

You and Din hadn’t really talked about it. Up until now, finding a Jedi had always seemed like something that might take years to accomplish. They were apparently very few and far between, and though you now knew it had been foolish to do so, you had never really given any great consideration to actually finding one, at least not so quickly. You and Din had loved your little one and cared for him as your own, even before the Armorer declared you a clan of three and heard your vows to adopt him. To hand him over to someone you knew nothing about - someone from an enemy race to the Mandalorians, no less - was unthinkable.

But you’d also vowed something else to the armorer that day. Together, you and Din had promised to find others of your foundling’s kind and return him to them. It was not a vow you took lightly, and you knew Din would no sooner break his promise than he would give up the Way. 

You straightened your shoulders and stood. No matter what happened on this planet, Din would need you. His struggle between the love he had for his foundling and the loyalty he had to the Way would not be an easy thing to overcome, and you wouldn’t leave him to face it alone.

You made your way back up to the cockpit, and you heard your little one babbling away before you came through the doors. Din was nodding and responded with interest despite the baby’s chatter not really meaning anything, and you felt your chest tighten. This was going to be harder than you thought.

- 

Din landed the Crest in a clearing among the forest of charred, skeletal trees surrounded by a sickly fog. You wondered if the air was even breathable. A quick check to the Crest’s display showed that it was, but the greenish tinge of the smog only added to your unease as the ship settled to the ground.

“I thought Bo-Katan said this was a forest planet,” you said.

Din started the shutdown cycle. “She did. Something must have happened to destroy the forests, and I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident. It probably has something to do with that city we passed over.”

You looked up at his helm as he stood. “The city we’re headed to?”

“Right again,” he said wryly. He looked over your shoulder to the dead trees outside. “Do you want to stay here while I go check out the city?”

As if on cue, a low groaning sound came from outside - only a very big creature could have made such a noise, and it didn’t sound like anything you’d like to meet on your own.

You crossed your arms over your chest and pressed closer to him. “No, I want to go with you.” You didn’t want to be on this planet anyway, and being separated from Din would only make it worse.

He ran a hand over your back to soothe you. “Okay,” he agreed. “Are you ready to leave?”

You nodded, but you didn’t pull away from him yet. His chestplate felt cool against your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment of comfort in his arms.

He cradled your face in his hands and leaned his helmet against your head. 

“It’s gonna be alright, cyar’ika,” he said gently. “We’ll just take it one step at a time, ok? We might not even find her here.”

You pulled back then, just enough to look up at his visor. You didn’t need to see his face to read the tension and unease he held in his whole body; he was just as hesitant to go looking for Ahsoka Tano as you were.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “One step at a time,” you agreed.

He nodded and relaxed a little. He gave you a final gentle tap of his helm against your head, a reassuring, comforting kiss, then beckoned to your little one.

“Come on, ad’ika,” he said, taking him from the seat. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

You followed Din to the second level, and he set your baby down after he’d come down the ladder to let him stretch his little legs. Your little one toddled after Din as the ramp lowered and revealed the bleak landscape you’d seen through the glass. The dead forest stretched in every direction, broken only by the great hulking shapes of slow-moving creatures in the distance.

Seeing his father had stopped at the foot of the ramp, your baby stopped too - top heavy and struggling to balance on the ramp, he sat midway down the slope with a little coo. You noticed he had the handle to the gear shift in his hand and was contentedly watching the way it shone in the weak sunlight.

“Did daddy give you that?” you asked, hunkering down next to him. He held it up to you and gave a soft babble.

Din turned. “Did I give him what?” He saw the ball in your baby’s hand and closed the distance between you in a few steps.

“What did I say about that?” Din scolded, extending his hand. The baby whined but reluctantly handed over his prize.

“This needs to stay in the ship,” Din chided. He tucked the ball into a pocket on his belt and straightened, looking out over the terrain again. You gave your son a consoling kiss on his soft ear; he chirped happily at you and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Not much to see out here,” Din said. He looked back at the two of you. “I’ve never had dealings with the Jedi before.”

Neither of you had, and his guess was as good as yours as to whether Jedi usually made their homes on planets as seemingly inhospitable as this. You knew nothing of their customs, their way of life - perhaps they didn’t even train ones as little as your baby, or were still hostile to Mandalorians. The only way to know would be to find the one you were looking for.

Din leaned down to scoop your baby up, cradling him in the crook of his arm, and offered his hand to you to help you stand. He gave your hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

“Let’s head into town,” he said. “See if we can pick up a lead.”

You stayed by his side as he walked to the edge of the clearing, and the Crest whirred as it drew the ramp back up and settled in to wait. You’d landed far enough away from the city to leave your ship better guarded against thieves, but it wouldn’t be a long walk to reach the city.

The forest closed in the further you went from your ship - even though they were rotted, the trees were numerous and large. They loomed in the fog, invisible until you were right on top of them, and it set your teeth on edge. When he was carrying the baby, Din preferred to have his other hand free to grab his blaster if the need should arise; to oblige him but still attempt to soothe your jangled nerves, you held a handful of his cloak and kept close to him that way.

All three of your kept quiet as you walked. You were in no mood for cheery conversation, and Din was well accustomed to silence on a bounty hunt. Even though Ahsoka Tano wasn’t a bounty, you knew your husband would employ those same skills to find her in the city; Din was an excellent hunter, and would most likely find her quickly. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Just before you reached the city, Din stopped and asked you to take the baby.

“Keep him close, cyare,” he said as your little one snuggled against your chest. “I don’t want either of you wandering.”

He knew he didn’t have to remind you, but you also knew it helped soothe his nerves. You put your hand on his arm, hoping to reassure him.

“We’ll stay close,” you told him. Though you were occasionally tempted to break his “stay by my side” rule on more colorful, inviting planets - you’d gotten a thorough reaming out from your husband one time after you’d wandered off and gotten lost in a bazaar on a Mid-Rim planet and made him sick with worry - you wanted to stick close on this planet.

“Should we do the nursemaid, this time?” you asked. A Mandalorian accompanied by a young woman and a baby would always call attention, and you often playacted to keep your identity as his wife a secret. You and your little one made him vulnerable, and were therefore a higher prize to be won or better bargaining chip to own.

Din’s posture stiffened.

“No,” he said firmly. “If anyone asks, we’ll tell them the truth. You’re my wife, and anyone who wants to get at you or our baby will have to go through me first.”

You felt a strange mix of apprehension and pride, hesitance and desire. His protective nature had always been something you loved about him, but he wasn’t usually this keyed up before a hunt. You reminded yourself this wasn’t a regular hunt you were on; neither of you had any idea what you’d find in the city, and you knew he’d been feeling the same nervousness you had as you came closer to finding what you sought.

“Okay,” you agreed. “We’ll tell them the truth.”

He seemed to relax a little - he must have known you’d picked up on his tone, and was thankful you’d taken it in stride. He brushed his hand over the baby’s head, then touched his fingers to your cheek.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

You took a steadying breath and held your baby closer. “I love you too.”

Read chapter two!

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[cactuskate]

Chapter 2: The Offer

the perfect gif doesn't exi- (gif by @yodaprod)

AN: here is chapter 2! sorry for the delay :)

Summary: Poor Y/N is just looking for an easy day after a night full of fighting stormtroopers. Unfortunately for her, the fight is not quite over. Besides, an annoyingly handsome Han Solo just seems to keep showing up wherever she's at... and this time with an offer she might not be able to refuse!

Warnings: another stormtrooper fight, blasters, bruises, Chewie swearing

word count: 2,484

____

The next morning you wake up sore. Your side is starting to turn an ugly shade of green, but you welcome it. Green is your favorite color, and you don’t get to see much of it in the desert. After spending the morning at the daycare, you are instantly in a better mood than the previous night. Something about being around foundlings has always made you feel at ease. Your day is wide open until later in the evening -- when the Union meets.

Walking down one of the main streets, you figured you would stop at your favorite bakery for more bread. Baba is an older woman who has owned the store since she was your age. Everyone loves Baba, but to you, she is like a grandmother. Every day, you walk past her booth and she yells at you for not eating enough, offers you bread, and refuses your payment. It is quite an honor for her to treat you like this. She isn’t kind to everyone, despite being one of the highest esteemed community members on Tatooine. As you turn down the path that leads to her storefront, you stop cold in your tracks. The trooper from last night. Harassing Baba.

“Where is she?! Huh?! Tell me, you old bat, I know you know who I’m talking about!” he shouts at Baba, who is huddled behind the kiosk countertop. Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline overcomes you and you start sprinting towards the trooper.

----

“Hey, Chew, look it’s your friend,” Han says, as the pair turns the corner in search of a junkyard for some parts. There you were, sprinting down the street.

“Hey, loser! Leave her alone,” you shout, crouching down to help Baba up and into the store where you instruct her to lock the door. The rest of the street comes to a silent hush as other storekeepers and customers follow suit and hide in the buildings.

“Can’t seem to get enough of me, huh?” you taunt the trooper. “Seems like I did a real number on that handsome face of yours last night, you sure you want a second round?” The trooper grunts as he lunges at you.

“Leave her be!” Han shouts. Chewie growls, pulling Han back before he can insert himself in the situation.

“Solo, go away, this isn’t your fight,” you shout back, annoyed that you now have an audience. You swerve the trooper’s advancements, sweeping his legs out from underneath him causing him to land on his back.

“It’s embarrassing how bad you are at this,” you huff at the trooper. “I have no tolerance for men that harass innocent people. You’ve picked on the wrong person, soldier.”

The trooper reaches for his blaster, aiming to shoot at you. Before he can even turn off the safety, you’ve kicked it out of his hands. The trooper lunges for it, regaining whatever was left of his balance. You reach for it too, sending it flying down the street without even touching it.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a fair fight,” you say as you bat your eyes.

“Jedi scum,” huffs the trooper, standing now, ready to charge you.

He hits your side - in the same exact place he struck you last night - and you topple to the ground. Okay, that time I definitely heard a crack. Without a second thought, you spring back up to catch his fist, flipping him to the ground and pinning him down with all the strength left in your body in one motion.

“I’m no Jedi. A Jedi would show mercy. You won’t be getting any of that from me. I know who you are, TK-079. I know everything about you. You’re a bully. I hate bullies,” you sneer at him, fear growing on his face.

You reach for the blaster again, and it comes flying into your hand like a moth to light. You slam the butt of it up onto his chin, in the same place as last night. An eye for an eye, you think, as you start to feel the pain bubble up in your side, this time at a higher intensity. The trooper is knocked out cold. For a moment, you feel peace.

Han and Chewbacca come running up to you. Shit. How much of that did they hear?

“Seems like he came back for round two really thinking he would win,” Chewie chuckled. You look up at him, noticing the noise beginning to resume on the street as people come out from their hiding.

“Can you pick him up for me?” you ask Chewie, not wanting to draw any more attention to the fight that just played out. Chewbacca hoists the trooper over his shoulder. “Through there,” you point at the tunnel leading to an alley. Han stays put, still processing what he just witnessed. “Solo, come on,” you urge, picking up the trooper’s blaster and tugging on Han’s sleeve.

----

“Well, I’m starting to think I need to practice my combat a little more, what do you think Chewie?” Han dramatically announces as the three of you and the unconscious trooper enter the alley.

“You can put him down right here, thank you,” you tell Chewbacca, ignoring Han’s comment. “Solo, destroy the blaster, down there,” you instruct, handing Han the gun and pointing further down the alley. He looks at you with a face of bewilderment.

“You want me to destroy this perfectly fine blaster? No. No, I can’t do that, that would be sacrilegious. Clearly, you won that fight, you should keep it,” Han rebuttals, extending the blaster to you.

“No, I don’t want it. I don’t like guns. Destroy it, or keep it - whatever, I want it out of my sight,” you grunt, as you try to figure out which door in the alley belongs to the Resistance.

You know the mission already went sideways, it would be too risky to let the trooper get away again. Just deliver him to Resistance officers to arrest, and then deal with whatever consequence the Union is sure to dream up.

“Wha- You don’t like guns? I don’t get you. You go and pick fights with stormtroopers and then won’t even use a gun? That’s all they know how to do -- point and shoot!” Han says, bewilderedly. He shudders. “I don’t want to keep the blaster of a dead stormtrooper.”

“He’s not dead!” you whisper-shout at him. “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard, but I do not go picking fights with stormtroopers,” you huff. “Chewie, can you destroy the blaster?”

Chewbacca and Han move further down the alley to deal with the gun as you knock on the door of the Resistance office. You explain what happened to the Resistance officer and they gratefully take the unconscious man into custody. Venturing down the alley, you find Chewbacca and Han hovered over the smoking blaster.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” you huff, as you squeeze past them to reemerge on the main street.

“A perfectly good blaster,” Han mumbles, following you to the street with Chewie right behind.

“What were you two even doing over here, the cantina isn’t remotely close,” you ask annoyedly, wondering what stars-forsaken reason you had company on a botched mission. Not botched. Just... improvised.

“We’re looking for a new junkyard to find parts at. Han got us banned from our usual dealer,” Chewbacca growls, clearly annoyed with Han.

“It was not my fault! That guy was a lunatic. Trying to upsell pieces of junk,” Han argued back.

“My roommate’s friend owns a junkyard near my house. I’ll show you. I can probably get you a good deal… a sort of thank you for helping me back there,” you offer, genuinely thankful there was at least someone with the muscle power to help bring the trooper out of the street. Even without an injured side, you would have struggled to do it yourself.

Argh, my side. The pain swells up. You look down to see the exposed skin peeking out of your top become even more discolored, and hope that it will subside in a couple days.

----

The three of you walk up the street leading to the junkyard in silence. Estrella, although part of the Union, seems to take the attachment rule with a grain of salt. She has been secretly dating Brendol, who owns the junkyard you are taking Han and Chewie to. Brendol is a piece of work. You can’t fathom why Estrella would break this rule for him.

“Hi Brendol, I brought you some business,” you announce as you enter the shop, the bell above the door chiming. Brendol looks up from his book, underwhelmed. “This is Chewbacca and Han Solo. They’re looking for some parts.” Turning to Han and Chewie, you gesture to the yard. “I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“Do you speak Wookiee?” Chewbacca asks Brendol, who looks somewhat more enthusiastic.

“Yes,” Brendol responds, somewhat relieved when he realizes he’ll only have to deal with Chewbacca as Han stays back in the shop. Word seemed to have gotten around about Han’s scuffle with the other junkyard owner.

Making your way to the opposite side of the shop from Han, you begin tinkering with parts of a droid that needs repair. Han’s gaze is steady on you as you work with your back to him. You feel him just standing there. Watching you.

“Enjoying the view?” you ask annoyed, as you turn to meet his gaze from across the shop. He continues to stare as you work with the parts in your hand. You walk to the counter where he is leaning, purposefully placing yourself with as much distance the tiny shop will allow between you.

“What do you want?” you finally huff, placing the parts down on the counter with a clang. You don’t dare meet his eyes. He’s already gotten to know you enough in the past 24 hours than anyone else has.

“Just… thinking,” Han responds coyly. “You know, Chewie and I were talking. You’re a great fighter. You clearly know what you're doing around parts,” he says, gesturing to the droid you’ve nearly fixed. “Chewie told me a few other things about you, too.”

“Like what?” you ask, trying to sound bored rather than panicked. You finally turn to meet his gaze. He hasn’t stopped looking at you since the three of you arrived at the junkyard.

“Like how you’re loyal, how you have so much more to offer than what this crummy planet deserves...,” he trails. “How you should join us on the Falcon’s crew.” You freeze. He can’t be serious.

“You’re crazy, Solo. You don’t even know me and you're asking me to fly away with you?”

“With us. It was Chewie’s idea,” he clarifies. “You’re right, I don’t know you. But Chewie knows you enough to trust you and that says a lot to me.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating what to say next. “I know you don’t know me, but Chewie trusts me. So that must mean something to you, too,” Han argues. You search his gaze for some sort of sign as to why he’s asking you. You come up with nothing.

“What do you do?” Han asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“What?”

“What do you do for a living? Here on Tatooine. What do you do?” Han asks.

“I’m a daycare teacher,” you respond. He laughs.

“Right. I’m supposed to believe you're a teacher? None of my teachers ever knew how to throw a punch like you do,” Han says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I learned how to fight when I was a waitress a few years back,” you say, not completely lying. Maz thought it would be good for you to know how to fight when you got your first job working in the cantina. “You don’t have to believe anything I say,” you continue, “But of all the jobs I could lie about having, why would I choose being an underpaid teacher?”

“Fine,” Han says, putting his hands up in the air as a surrender. “I believe you. I just don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth,” Han falters, as if he’s considering whether or not to say what he says next. “I just think someone like you is wasting your potential staying here. Come with us or don’t, that’s up to you. But this planet… this planet doesn’t deserve you.”

Han holds your gaze, a little longer than you would like. The shouting match between Chewie and Brendol ends the moment as quickly as it came.

“Y/N, would you tell your friend the Wookiee that I will not go lower than 400 credits for these parts,” Brendol whines as he returns to his spot behind the counter.

“Y/N, you tell this puny man that he knows that price is bullshit,” Chewbacca cries, carrying a load of parts in his arms to the counter. Han leans himself against the doorframe, entertained that you are put in the middle of Chewie’s bargaining negotiations instead of him.

“Brendol, come on. 400 credits? Cut it down to 200, I’m cashing in on my favor,” you say firmly, planting your hands on the counter so you face him square on.

“What favor do I owe you for exactly?” Brendol sneers, certain you have nothing of value for him to fold on.

“Two months ago, you told Rella you were going to visit your mother on Corellia, but I know for a fact and have evidence that you went to Canto Bight and spent all of your savings on gambling. I haven’t told Rella because I care too much about her, but I’m starting to think it might be better for her to know…,” you counter, knowing this is enough for him to fold.

Brendol pauses, seeming to process the information you just told him. Han and Chewie exchange an entertained look.

“Fine, 200 credits,” Brendol grunts.

“150, I just fixed this droid,” you shoot back, hitting a wire that makes the D-O unit reel to life. Brendol looks defeated but agrees. Chewie cries a coo of delight, happily paying 150 credits for the parts he needs.

“See ya later, Brendol!” you sing, as you leave the shop, passing by an impressed Han Solo on your way through the door.

As the pair meets you outside of the shop, you know this is goodbye. As tempting of an offer Han made, it is not enough to get you to leave Tatooine. Not wanting you to decide so quickly, Han places a hand on your shoulder.

“Just think about what I said. We leave tomorrow at sunset.”

You nod, with your mind already made up and turn to give Chewie a hug. You watch for a moment as they walk away, back through town and to their ship. You sigh, as you know your day is far from over. Rough day.

//kp

[tanyawritesstories]

Frozen Chances | The Mandalorian x Reader

So here is the much asked for sequel to Frozen Miracles that I promised. I hope y'all think it's as good at the first part. Enjoy 😊

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: violence, fluff, feelings, yearning, use of the Force, Din is coincidentally great with children

•••

Nexlar was finally in sight. After a rough and bumpy five hour journey, the moon was finally within their reach. Din was tired, he hadn’t slept in about thirty hours. He had planned to after the kids were asleep, then Mandi decided to rearrange the interior of the ship with the first display of her powers. Din was still stunned and confused about the entire situation. He knew it wasn’t normal for children to have these abilities. His son was technically fifty years old and evidently knew how to use his powers to a certain extent. But Mandi was a newborn, only a few days old and she was exhibiting barely controlled displays of the same power.

Din had stayed in the cockpit ever since the small ordeal. Y/N hadn’t spoken anymore, just sat on the floor forcing herself to stay awake and hold her baby. She was terrified. She hadn’t let go of Mandi since, just cradled her in her arms, crying softly from time to time. Din was a bounty hunter, he’d been all over the galaxy and seen all sorts of strange things. Chances are this woman had never, or at least barely, left Tatooine. She was from a small corner of the galaxy where the unusual things were stormtroopers and blaster fire that lasted longer than a few minutes. Undoubtedly, the powers her foundling was displaying were concerning rather than confusing.

He brought the Crest into the planet’s atmosphere. A good part of the planet was forested, but he managed to pick out a city and put down the Crest on the edge of the forest. He climbed down into the hull, finding Y/N still hadn't moved from the floor at the end of his bunk. She had been awake as long as he had, if not longer. She was still looking at her daughter, trying to keep her eyes open she was so fatigued. Din could just barely see the dark bags under her eyes, every time her eyes started closing she would open them and blink a few times, trying to ward off her exhaustion.

He heard a small clang and looked over to see the child had somehow gotten into his ammunition stash, and was seconds away from sticking a charge for his pulse rifle into his mouth. “No, no, no,” he said kneeling down and snatching the bullet away. “That’s not food, you can’t eat that.” He returned it to the container and locked it back up, sighing and picking up his little green gremlin. He turned back around and saw she had finally looked up at him.

I’m sorry. I should have been watching him. She signed.

“It’s alright,” he said, “we’re on Nexlar but it’s getting late and you shouldn’t go walking around in the city at this hour. Why don’t you get some sleep, I’ll watch her.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked on the verge of tears again.

I don’t know what’s wrong with her, I have never seen anything like that.

Din kneeled in front of her and set the child by her feet. “I have. My little one has the same abilities. I don’t know how it’s possible, but he can move things with his mind. I think your foundling has the same powers,” he informed. He saw her relax a little, looking at his child who was trying to climb onto her lap.

So it’s not a bad thing then? Or anything that will hurt her?

“No, it’s nothing bad. She just can do things that other infants can’t,” he told her. "You can hold her then, but you need to get some sleep." She looked sad again but reluctantly held Mandi out to him. Din took the baby into his arms and cradled her against his chest. He held the little girl close and made sure she was comfortable in his arms, looking up he saw Y/N watching with a smile as he interacted with her baby. He nodded to his bed and she removed his child before slowly climbing onto his bed. Din picked his son off the floor and stood up.

“We’ll switch, you can always get him to sleep,” Din said. He placed his little one at the foot of the bed and he made his way to lay next to her head. She smiled and wrapped an arm around him protectively, ghosting a kiss to his cheek. Din exhaled slowly as he watched her turn off the lights. He would hate to see her go in the morning, she was so good with the kids, an excellent mechanic and he knew she could pilot a ship with her eyes closed. He would love to have someone with her skills aboard. The more he thought about it, the more she reminded him of Kuiil. A caring individual who was as skilled as she was kind. Someone who had experienced hardships in the past but had overcome them and chosen not to let that affect the peace they seeked. Only Kuiil was in a different state of peace now.

Din didn't want to be sad right now, he wanted to cherish this little girl as much as he could before he would never see her again. He retrieved one of the bottles of milk Y/N had pumped before they left the ice planet. She'd stashed it underneath a panel in the wall, knowing it would stay cold there. He climbed into the cockpit and took his seat, nudging Mandi’s lips with the soft tip of the bottle so she would open her mouth. He smiled under his helmet as she latched onto the bottle and began drinking.

Is this what it feels like to be the father of a normal child?

Mandi wasn’t normal, not anymore, but she was human and looking at her you would never know she had unnatural powers. Even though she was so young one could see that Mandi had her mother’s nose, lips, and face shape. However, her eyes and hair were a dark brown, evidently traits from her father; Din wondered what the man had looked like. He looked out the viewports at the surrounding forest. The strange, alien trees glowed in the darkness and the city had quieted down, it was peaceful and steady here. Din hoped Y/N and Mandi would be able to live here and be happy for a long time.

~~~~

Din had allowed himself to drift off to sleep once Mandi had finished her dinner. He shifted a bit in his chair and noticed the weight was gone from his lap and arms. He jolted awake and looked around, getting his bearings before rushing down into the hull. He opened his quarters and saw nothing, he turned around and calmed at the sight. Y/N was sitting on the floor again, breastfeeding Mandi while making sure his child didn’t spill the broth she had made for him. He sighed in relief and walked over, kneeling in front of her. Y/N had a blanket over the front of her to cover herself as she fed her child, wincing every now and then.

“Is she still biting you?” He asked. The woman nodded with a strained smile.

I’ll get used to it.

Din nodded. “Do you need anything before you go?” He asked. She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. Maybe she didn’t want to go either? He wished he had the guts to ask her to stay, he wanted her to stay. He reminded himself that his life was not suited for a woman and her child, the best thing he could do for her was let her go. He helped her pack up her few things and made sure she had everything she might need that he could give her. He opened the side ramp, facing the city.

“These are for you,” he said, handing her a pouch off his belt. She took and opened it, her eyes widening at the contents. It was the credits she gave him before they left Tatooine, his payment.

No, I can’t take this, these are yours.

“You’ll need them, nothing is cheap these days,” he said. She still looked apprehensive. “You can’t start over if you’ve got nothing to start with.”

She finally gave in and took the credits from him. Din reached over and brushed his glove-covered knuckles over Mandi’s cheek. “I know you’ll take good care of her,” he said. She nodded and smiled, looking over to see his little one standing on the end of his bed. She walked over to him and pecked a kiss on the top of his head.

I’ll miss you. She signed to him. She came back next to Din, smiling softly.

I’ll miss you too. Thank you for everything you’ve done. If you ever need anything, please come to me. I'd love to help.

He nodded in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say or even if he could say it. "Thank you, I hope you find what you're looking for here," was all he managed to say. She nodded back and adjusted Mandi in her wrap before walking down the ramp and into the city.

~~~~

The rest of the flight to Trask was more boring than he thought it would be. He didn't realize they hadn't fixed the landing gear as well as he thought, causing the Crest to plunge into the ocean at the last minute. At least the patches in the hull held up.

Din met the contacts at the marina. A lovely and welcoming couple that appeared to be a frog-like species. They couldn't speak basic, but they led him and his child into a nearby inn. His mind was taken away from how lonely he now felt, the feeling replaced with progress. He finally felt like he was getting somewhere.

The day passed, quick and chaotic. He found the Mandalorians he was looking for, but it nearly cost the child's life as well as his own. He was barely able to sleep the first night on Trask. He was starting to wonder if there were any of his kind left; anyone he knew or grew up with. Were they all gone? Was Bo-Katan right about his people? Were they actually a cult, or was she wrong and her opinion was tainted. He didn’t know what to believe.

When it came the next day, Din wished he had Y/N now more than anything. This mission was too dangerous to bring the child with, and so he left him in the care of the kind frog couple. They were nice and appeared to have new little ones of their own. Din was almost wishing he had left the kid with Y/N on Nexlar until he was certain he’d found a Jedi.

The mission went about as smoothly as things go around Din, which of course meant that there were several hiccups and issues. In the end he got the location of a Jedi, but was still frustrated with the so-called Mandalorians we had worked with. After picking the child back up, Din headed back to the Crest. The Mon Calamari he had paid handsomely to repair his beloved vessel had not done nearly the job he should have for the amount Din had paid him.

Frustrated, tired, and overwhelmed, Din knew the Crest would need more repairs, he would need sleep and food and so would the child. He took off and debated where to program the nav computer. He thought for a moment before punching in the coordinates to Nexlar. He would have a proposition to make.

~~~~

Luckily, the landing gear had been fixed and he was able to put his ship down in the same place as before. He was forced to carry the child in his shoulder bag after the crib had been destroyed by the sea creature. He made his way into town after securing the Crest. Din had no way of knowing where she had settled and so resorted to asking around. It didn’t take him long. A few of the merchants in the town square said she visited regularly, but only one was willing to tell him where she lived after he explained he was a friend who was there to check up on her. It was getting later in the day and Din purchased a few things for dinner and made his way to her home. Her home turned out to be two small connected rooms built behind an apothecary. He had thought with the amount of credits she had that she would have been able to afford better lodging.

The second he knocked, he heard a baby start crying. The door opened and revealed a tired looking Y/N. Without warning, she hugged him, pressing her face into his cold chest plate. Din was a bit taken aback but put his free arm around her briefly. "I, uh, brought dinner," he said nervously. She looked up at him and smiled, grabbing his arm and half dragging him inside. The moment she closed the door she began signing at a blinding pace.

I don't know what to do, I've tried so many different things and I'm out of ideas. She's not sick, she's not lacking any necessary vitamins, but she won't sleep and she barely eats.

The woman stopped and sighed, looking moments away from tears. She dug her hands into her hair and tried to calm herself down. Din set the food down on her table, now also concerned about the baby. "What's happened since I left?"

Nothing, nothing major. But she hasn't slept for more than a few hours since we got here. I don't know what to do anymore.

Din took his child out of his carry bag and set him on the floor after checking to make sure there was nothing he could get into. "Can I try?" He shyly asked. She motioned for him to go ahead as she collected the things he brought and took them to a counter. Din walked into the adjoining room, the bedroom, finding Mandi wrapped in a blanket, squirming and crying. His heart broke for the little one and he rushed to her side, scooping her up in his arms.

"Shh, shh. There, there, little one. It's ok now," he spoke softly. He rocked her in his arms and she slowly stopped crying and opened her eyes. Din removed a glove and ever so gently brushed away the tears on her little cheeks. "What's wrong, littl'un? You've got your buir worried sick," he said. Mandi just looked at him curiously, as if nothing had ever been wrong. One of her little arms reached up towards his face and Din intercepted her hand with a finger. She wrapped her entire hand around his one digit and he let her pull his finger into her mouth and watched her begin sucking on it. "Let's see if you'll eat something, hmm," he said.

Din walked back into the other room to get her a bottle. He found his child sitting in the middle of the table surrounded by a small number of hand-sewn toys that Y/N had given him to keep him occupied while she made dinner. "Does she have a bottle somewhere?" He asked. The woman pointed at the small cooling storage unit a few feet away and he opened it, grabbing a bottle out. He sat at the table, cradling Mandi comfortably with one arm. He used the same technique he had used with her before, gently rubbing and nudging the bottle against her lips until she opened her mouth. As soon as she had the bottle in her mouth she began drinking greedily. “Whoa, slow down there,” he murmured.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/N had been watching him interact with Mandi and scribbled something on a piece of flimsi. She set it on the table next to him and smiled when he looked up at her, patting his green son’s head before returning to finish their supper. Din glanced at the note she left for him. ‘It’s like she thinks you’re her father.’ Was written in neat but quick handwriting, he looked up and saw her putting things on a few separate plates with her back to him. He thought for a second and remembered the time Mandi saw him without his helmet not long after she was born and how he talked to her. He wasn’t 100% sure how babies worked but it could have been that Mandi saw him, the second person she had ever seen, and her little brain assumed he was her father. Plus, if her mother didn’t speak, his voice was the only one she knew. It would explain why she always calmed down when he talked to her. Y/N set two plates on the table, one in front of her and the other in front of the kid.

I made one for you, it’s keeping warm so you can eat it later when you’re comfortable.

Din nodded and thanked her, continuing to feed the little girl until she had her fill. Din returned her to her mother and then made sure his own kiddo wasn’t eating too fast. He watched her rock her baby and she signed a ‘thank you’ to him.

Are you able to stay here for the night? She asked with her hands. Din didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t, plus it would give him some time to think of a way to ask her if she would like to work for him.

"That would be nice."

~~~~

Din had found yet another thing that Y/N was skilled in: cooking. After they chatted for a while, she had put Mandi to sleep and dragged a mattress into the main room for him. In the safety of the darkness, well past midnight, Din was able to remove his helmet and eat the meal she'd left warm for him. It was the best food he'd had in months. In the morning, she let him have the refresher to himself for a while after she made breakfast.

He entered the main room to find her settling Mandi into a wrap across her chest. "Thank you for breakfast, and dinner last night," he said, "the food was amazing." She smiled and nodded towards him.

Would you like to come to the market with me? I could use the help.

"Sure," he agreed. He gathered his little womp rat into his bag and walked with her to the market in the center of town. He offered to carry her groceries and acted as a translator between her and the merchants. He noticed that she was buying very little and the amount of credits she had was low. “What happened to your credits? Housing on Nexlar that expensive?” She shook her head sadly.

I wasn’t here more than an hour and some thief swiped almost half my credits. That’s why I couldn’t afford better lodging.

Din sighed, making a note to pay for whatever she bought next. “Uh, listen I had been wanting to ask you a question..” he started. She nodded for him to continue. “Would you like to become part of my crew? It’s just me and the kid right now and I could use someone with your vast array of skills.” She looked at the ground as she walked, contemplating. “I can pay you,” he added.

I don’t know, I left Tatooine to escape the ruckus and adventure. But maker knows I could use the credits. She signed.

He let her think more as they walked until she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Din looked over at her and saw her staring in front of her where a line of New Republic credits were floating in the air in front of her. They both followed the line with their eyes back to its owner, an oblivious man standing at a meat cart. The pair looked around and saw that people’s credits were levitating in the air from their purses and pouches and steadily floating towards them. Din once again, on reflex, looked down at the kid in the bag near his hip, but it didn’t appear to be him. It was easy to tell when his kid used his powers, he usually used his hands and showed extreme concentration on his face, right now he looked unaffected and curious.

They both looked down at Mandi, strung safely across her mother’s chest with her little arms in the air and a small furrow in her brow. It wasn’t possible that she heard what her mother had said about needing credits, was it? The spectacle was drawing the attention of others, most stood dumbfounded as their currency floated through the air towards a woman and a Mandalorian with two children. Y/N held a concerned look on her face as she placed her hands on Mandi and held her impossibly closer to her body.

“Hey!”

Both Y/N and Din looked over to see a man staring at them angrily. “You the one doing this?” He shouted at the woman. Y/N looked between him and Mandi, shaking her head quickly. The man scoffed and pulled his blaster out of its holster. “Drop the credits,” he threatened. Y/N started signing quickly and Din spoke. “She doesn’t know how, it’s not her,” he said. The man stepped a few feet closer and several more men closed in around them, all with drawn blasters. They were outnumbered, Din knew how these things went and he slowly took her hand in his. “Alright then,” the ringleader said, “guess we’ll just have to kill her to get her to stop.” He raised his blaster and Din gripped Y/N’s hand tight.

“Run!”

He pulled her with him as they took off down an alley, blaster bolts firing behind them. “We have to get to the Crest, if we go to your house they’ll just find you,” Din said as he led her through close quartered buildings. They could hear the thugs chasing them, still firing their blasters. They came around a corner and skidded to a stop by a thug who had cut them off. Din drew his blaster and fired, killing him in seconds. Y/N grabbed Din’s wrist and pulled him in another direction.

They weaved through alleyways, trying to avoid the main roads while running back to the Crest. Din would fire behind them if they got close. He had no idea how many people were chasing them but he’d killed at least three. Din’s HUD picked up the Crest’s distance. They broke away from the town and headed towards the trees. The ship was in sight, Din pressed a few buttons on his vambrace and the engines started up. His head was tilted forwards and a ringing sound followed, he stopped, turned, and shot the pursuer that shot at his head. Y/N kept running towards the Crest, who’s ramp had just lowered.

Din suddenly felt something wrap around his neck. He dropped his blaster and grabbed at the cord but it was activated and electricity flowed through his body, dropping him to the ground on his back. Y/N looked back and saw what was happening. One of the thugs had an electric whip around Mando’s neck and he was squirming on the ground. She ran back and grabbed his blaster off the ground and fired at their aggressor. The man dropped dead, the whip turning off. Bullseye. She dropped the blaster and grabbed his vibroblade from his boot, cutting the cord, unwrapping it from his neck.

Din got to his feet and holstered his blaster and his blade before running into the Crest with his new companion. Din closed the ramp and Y/N climbed the ladder into the cockpit. More thugs came running towards the ship and Y/N pressed a button to activate the shields. Din joined her in the cockpit just as she pulled a lever back and lifted the steering handles, taking the Crest into the air. The thugs fired at the ship but their bullets harmlessly bounced off the shields. She guided his ship out of the atmosphere and into empty space. Finally safe, she slumped into the seat and sighed. “Welcome aboard,” he said, smiling behind his helmet. She chuckled and checked on Mandi, who was alright, as was Din’s little one. He reached over and punched their next destination into the nav computer. “Ever been to Navarro?”

~~~~

One of the few thugs that survived and had witnessed everything, made his way into a nearby cantina. He walked to the back and nodded to the Rodian guarding a secret door. The Rodian moved aside, letting the man enter the room. He walked to a terminal in the middle of the dark room and turned it on. He only had to wait for a few minutes until the glowing blue hologram of an Imperial officer showed up. “Anything to report?” The officer asked.

“Yes, I have a message for Moff Gideon,” the man growled.

“Tell him there’s another child.”

[ladyrynofsunnydale]

Bo-Katan Week Day 7/ Free Day

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Korkie Kryze, Bo-Katan Kryze & Rey

Summary: It’s been twenty years since the battle of Yavin. The Empire is gone and Mandalore is once again in the hands of Mandalorians. Bo-Katan has not heard from her nephew Korkie in over five years until one day out of the blue he contacts her and asks her to meet him. She agrees, unaware how this one act may change the future.

Author’s Note:  Happy Day 7 (and final day) of Bo-Katan Week! I have had so much fun, and thank you @bokatanweek so much for doing this and for all your time and hard work! And what amazing artists who’ve submitted and such a great group of people! 

So, this is such a random headcannon that once I thought of I had to get out. I intended to finally do a fluff piece for Bo-Katan, and unfortunately it didn’t turn out that way. But I finally get to have two of my favorite characters meet, so I am a happy Star Wars nerd. And yeah, you get another Lord of the Rings quote for the title. Mando’a translations at the end.

Warnings for loss and hurt

Click on the link above or Keep Reading to read.

Bo-Katan walked into her chambers, unbuckling her armor. It had been eight years since they had retaken Mandalore, and everything was finally starting to run with a semblance of normalcy. To Bo, the feeling was somewhat surreal. Before now the only other time she had lived on Sundari without waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop was when she was a little girl, years before the Great Clan Wars. She paused before the painting of Satine that was on her wall and grazed her fingers over her sister’s painted ones.

“You’d be proud, Satine,” she said sadly.

Generally, Mandalore and the surrounding systems were at peace. Once legitimized, the New Republic had tried to get them to join. They’d even sent their most prominent Senator, Leia Organa Solo, to try to convince them, especially since Leia’s brother Luke Skywalker was training their Mand’alor’s, Din Djarin’s, foundling. Despite a surprisingly enjoyable visit, Mandalore remained independent.

Bo had originally resisted Din Djarin becoming the reluctant Mand’alor. But as she watched him, she realized he may just be the one to bring them all together. And for once, Bo realized, she could just be Bo-Katan. While she still led her Nite Owls and other fellow Mandalorian ex-Death Watch members, the expectation to rule, to have everyone’s hopes and dreams on her shoulders, was gone. And she didn’t miss it. And Djarin had brought everyone together. Her dream of retaking Mandalore had finally been realized.

Once stripped out of all her armor and clothing, Bo stepped into the shower and let the warm water cascade over her hair and down her back. She’d been training new recruits and could feel the fatigue in her body. She wasn’t young anymore, and she felt it.

Showered and dressed, she walked back into her sitting room and looked over at Satine’s painting. One of her biggest regrets at the moment was losing track of Korkie, Satine’s one and only son. Yes, while officially he was their cousin’s son and called Satine Auntie, Korkie and Bo had uncovered the true documentation with proof that Korkie was Satine and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s. Korkie had taken some time to get used to that idea, but over the years he had embraced it. He had even met with Luke Skywalker, one of the last people to see Obi-Wan Kenobi alive.

But Korkie had taken off about six years prior, saying he needed to make his own way. And Bo had let him. But she still thought about him. The first year he sent her updates, but he’d been quiet since. She’d tried to find him with no luck.

Her comm beeped with an unknown transmission. She looked at it suspiciously and thought about declining it, but on a whim accepted it.

“Aunt Bo?”

Bo’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice.

“Korkie?!”

“Hey Ba’vodu.”

“Korkie, you’re alright! Where have you been?! You haven’t contacted me in over five years!”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. But…I had my reasons. I…can you meet me somewhere?”

Bo paused. This could be a trap. From whom, she didn’t know. She’d made plenty of enemies in her many years. But Korkie was the last of her direct family. She’d risk it for him.

“Just tell me where.”

After a quick conversation with Djarin, who hadn’t been too happy about her taking off to gods know where without much information, and another with Koska to take over leadership duties of the Nite Owls, she was off to the coordinates Korkie had sent her. When she exited hyperspace, the first thing she noticed was that she was in the middle of nowhere. There were no planets anywhere near, and any star was far enough away to shed hardly any light. But there was a single ship. They hailed each other and she pulled her ship up alongside and docked. She took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her graying red hair, and headed to the airlock, adjusting her blasters in their holsters just in case. Opening the door, her eyes fell on a sight that caused a wide grin to break over her face.

“Korkie Kryze Kenobi,” she said, and Korkie smiled at her.

“Hey Auntie.”

Bo, too happy to see her nephew, let the nickname slide and stepped forward to pull him in for a hug.

“I’ve missed you ad’ika,” she said and Korkie squeezed her in response.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Bo pulled back and kept her hands on his shoulders, looking intently at his face. He looked tired. Very tired. And afraid.

“Korkie, what’s going on? Where’ve you been?”

But his answer was interrupted by a small voice behind him.

“Da?”

Bo craned her neck to look around Korkie and was shocked to see a small girl, not more than five, peering at them from around a corner. Korkie sighed and turned, but Bo saw a mask slide over his face, hiding the fear.

“Rey, I thought I asked you to stay in the cockpit?”

“I know, but…who’s that?”

Bo couldn’t keep the surprise out of her face as she looked from Korkie to the girl and back. Da? Was this…?

“Come here,” Korkie said and gestured to the girl. Hesitantly she glanced at Bo and came up to him, hiding behind his legs to look out. “Rey, this is your Aunt Bo-Katan. She was my mother’s sister. Aunt Bo, this is Rey. My daughter.”

Bo stared down at the girl for a moment, not blinking. She could see so much of Satine in her. Bo took a breath and kneeled down to get on the girl’s level.

“Hello Rey. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Rey hid more behind her father, then glanced up at him. He nodded at her and cautiously she stepped around him.

“Hello,” she said. Her eyes moved from Bo’s face to her armor and she took a slow step forward to reach out to tap her shoulder guard.

“That’s beskar,” Bo said.

“Why?” Rey asked, and looked back up to Bo’s face. Her curiosity was chipping away at her shyness.

“Because I’m a Mandalorian. Beskar, especially beskar armor, is an important part of our culture. This armor has been in my family, our family, for three generations.”

Rey looked up at Korkie.

“I’m a Mandalorian too?”

Korkie hesitated.

“You’re part Mandalorian. I’m only half.”

Bo reached into a pouch and pulled out a small pendant, a mythosaur skull made of beskar on a leather thong.

“Being a Mandalorian is more of a creed. It’s what you believe in. You have very strong, very old Mandalorian blood in you Rey. If you’d like to be a Mandalorian, you absolutely can be.” She held out the pendant to the girl and she tentatively reached out, but paused and looked up at her father. He smiled and nodded at her and she took it. “Can you keep an eye on that for me?” Bo asked, and Rey nodded. Korkie leaned down to look Rey in the eye.

“Can you wait in the cockpit for us, love?”

Rey looked between Bo and her father, clutching the pendant in her hand, and nodded.

“See you soon,” Bo said and smiled at her, and for the first time Rey gave her a small smile back before scampering back into the ship. Korkie watched her go with a fond look on his face before the mask fell and he turned back to Bo. “Who’s her mother?”

“She’s…it’s complicated,” Korkie said, leaning up against the wall of the airlock. He glanced into his ship then back. “Aunt Bo, I need you to take Rey. Keep her safe.” Bo blinked at him.

“Wait, what?”

“Please Ba’vodu…”

“Korkie, what is going on?”

“There’s a lot. More than I have time to tell you.” He reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a data stick. “This has all the information you need. And things for Rey, when she’s older and can understand.”

“Korkie,” Bo said, stepping towards him, but he took a step back, glancing into his ship once more.

“My wife, Rey’s mother, is Palpatine’s daughter.”

Bo recoiled.

“What?”

“But she’s good! Kind. I love her. But Palpatine. He…”

“Palpatine’s dead, Korkie. You’ve met the man who killed him.”

Korkie shook his head and Bo’s eyebrows furrowed even more.

“I’m not so sure.”

“Korkie this is crazy.”

“I know!! Don’t you think I know!” Korkie almost yelled, but he recoiled. “But someone is after Rey.”

“Why?”

“She’s Force sensitive. More than either I or her mother. We think he’s after her power.”

Bo felt a powerful protective urge swell within her. This girl was aliit; she was family.

“Then I can help you…”

“No! No. She needs to be hidden. And safe.” He looked up at her and his eyes seemed haunted. “You’re the only one I trust who’s strong enough to protect her.”

“What about Luke Skywalker? Do you not want her trained?”

Korkie shook his head emphatically.

“No. Training her will only put a mark on her. But a Mandalorian? You can teach her to protect herself. Mandalorians and Force users are sworn enemies after all.”

Bo’s heart clenched. “But if you want me to take her, what about you?”

“I’ve got to keep his attention away from Rey.” He turned to look up the hallway where Rey had left. “She’s my world, Auntie.”

“Korkie,” Bo said softly, reaching for him, and he turned, giving her a troubled look.

“Please Aunt Bo. For me. For Auntie Satine and her granddaughter.”

Bo blinked away tears. “She’d want me to protect you too.”

Korkie smiled sadly at her. “I can protect myself. And I can better do that if I know my daughter is safe.” He held out the data stick. Bo sighed, then nodded, taking the stick. Korkie visibly relaxed then took a step forward and pulled Bo into a hug. “Thank you.”

Bo squeezed him tight. “I love you, Korkie.”

“I love you too.”

She followed him down the hallway towards the cockpit. Sitting there in one of the chairs, her legs swinging, was Rey. She glanced up when they walked in and stood, ducking her head somewhat shyly again and walking forward. Korkie kneeled down beside her.

“Rey, you’re going to go with Aunt Bo-Katan, ok?”

Rey looked up at her father, uncertainty in her eyes.

“But why?”

“Because your Mom and I need to go and try to make the bad man go away, alright?”

Tears welled up in Rey’s eyes but she nodded.

“Alright.”

For the first time since she’d boarded the ship Bo saw tears in Korkie’s eyes.

“Oh Rey,” he said and he pulled her in for a hug, one which she returned fiercely. “I love you, we love you so much. Don’t forget that.”

“I love you too, Da.”

Bo walked out and let father and daughter have their moment. She leaned up against the wall, her head bowed. Was their family always destined to be split up from each other? Couldn’t they just have one normal childhood? She turned to look as Korkie and Rey stepped out of the cockpit, a bag strapped to Rey’s back.

“Ready to go?” she asked, and Rey nodded. “Got everything?” Rey glanced up at her father and he nodded.

Bo stepped forward and pulled Korkie into one last hug. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” she said, and he echoed it back to her. With one last nod she held her hand out to Rey and she took it and the two of them walked down the hallway and back to her ship. With one last farewell she closed the airlock and took one last look at her nephew. Rey’s tears were flowing freely now and Bo just looked down at her sadly.

“Um, so I don’t have any beds here on the ship, but I can make you a place in the back, or you can come up and sit with me?” Rey just stared at the closed door. “You can stay with me.” Bo guided her down the hallway and back to the cockpit. “Here you can sit right next to me,” she said, and brought her over to the co-pilot’s seat. After strapping her in, she took a seat in the pilot’s chair and began pre-flight checks. Once done she glanced back over at Rey and noticed she’d pulled a doll out of her bag. Made of some sort of fabric it had the rough look of a Rebellion fighter pilot. “Who’s that?” she asked, and Rey looked up.

“Red.”

“Red. That’s a good name.”

“My mum and da gave him to me on my birthday.”

“When was your birthday?”

“Yesterday.”

Bo’s heart lurched. She reached out and squeezed Rey’s leg gently. “Well happy birthday Rey. I’ll have to remember that.”

Rey looked out past the viewport. “Where are we going?”

“To Mandalore.”

Rey perked up a little at that. “Mandalore?”

Bo nodded. “And after that, we can go anywhere we want.”

Rey looked at her and nodded. “Ok.”

Bo smiled at her. “Ok.”

She was going to keep this girl safe if that was the last thing she did, and she was going to make sure she was happy and supported. It was the least she could do.

Mando’a Translations

Ba’vodu- Aunt

Ad’ika- little one (fond)

Aliit- family

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum- I love you

[uponrightful]

Second Chance Ch.2

Read Chapter One Here

Warnings: Mentions of Death, a Little Angst, Mild Cursing?, my Bad Editing Skills.

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part. I have quite a lot planned for this, with a lot of the details fleshed out. If you want to be tagged in Ch.3 let me know. 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was so easy to take a life.

He’d seen it happen so many times that it was second nature but when he found a second to sit down and pause, the revelation was always brand new to him. The only thing that saved him from death was luck… and the occasional intervention of Grogu who’s gift still confounded the Mandalorian. Never had he imagined just how powerful the child could have been. But for

Mando’s life was no different than many other man’s… easily taken just as it was given.

Mandalorian teaching deified war, and how power was given to the warriors of Mandalore, and the war. But what he could remember was that they never mentioned how man was supposed to take this god-like power, and not be ripped apart by it. Power wasn’t meant for only one army, let alone a singular man. No matter how much strength a man possessed, the authority of a man drunk on power almost always killed him.  

Death followed Mando like the cape the hung from his pauldrons; gliding across the ground and floating behind his back like a shadow that never went away. But he could always feel death around him, even in the shadows reminding him of the command that it held not just for others… but for him as well. Mando seemed to think that death has found a place with him, lingering long enough to wreak havoc before Mando could stop the destruction. That idea only subsided once he took Grogu as his foundling.

After the child came into his life, the reasoning for his choices became simple. There wasn’t a binding contract that had been passed along by men who desired control by use of bounty hunters. The reason was founded on the protection of the child, who Mando knew didn’t deserve to be plunged into a world that dark, and filled with men obsessed with power… no matter the means.

Mando groaned in his chair, feeling the stiffness of bruises forming on his ribs and the stiffness in his neck from his fight with the man on Hoth. Every breath stretched his ribs creating a dull thud of pain. Even his helmet felt heavy as he tried to roll his head and manipulate the muscles that kept threatening to contract and send him into a spasm. Even his fingers couldn’t drive away the ache either, but with the girl in the hull, taking a shower wasn’t an option either. Frustrated, he leaned his head back trying to relax and re-think the events on Hoth.

The fight with Vir had been one of many that Mando had won, but it wasn’t the first time that he had felt like death was standing there watching to see if he could prevail over his opponent. That shadowy figure grinning as the air in Mando’s lungs had became short and hearing that evil sound of laughter thumping in his ears… mocking him. Demanding for him to give up, and let go of the foolish idea that he was going to get out alive.

The new bruises, and old scars that covered Mando’s entire body told the story of his wars… something another Mandalorian would look at with reverence. With a respect for Mando and his battles won against those who chose not to do good. “This is The Way,” they would say bowing their head to him. Not a single doubt in their oath for a creed that distanced people from one another. But for Mando it was hardly a success to carry his wounds proudly… the one thing he had -his foundling- was gone. But now that his creed was broken, the pieces of it were hard to pick up without inspecting them for flaws.

Tatooine was a full day away at least, and until then the two of them would be stuck on the ship. Even hyperspace had its drawbacks. Yes, you could get across the galaxy in a fraction of the time, but when it was this silent and there was so much unknown between them he wished that space could bend just a little further. No doubt the men they left of Hoth’s snowy surface were chasing after them, or trying to figure out where they could be headed. Mando knew his only saving grace was that no one knew where he was going.

The only one who could’ve been a help, was dead now.

His chest tightened at the memory, thinking of any way that he could have saved the old woman. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the girl, maybe he would have heard the heavy footsteps approaching them. Mando had left himself lose control over the situation, it cost the old woman her life… and the girl her own life, in a whole other way.

He couldn’t hear her below, but that didn’t keep her presence from being obvious to him. The small puddles of water on the floor were still there from where her boots had stood. The warmth from her sitting in the chair had lingered long enough for him to feel it when he took her place. Even the sound of the Slave’s mechanics sounded better now that she had tweaked… something, he  couldn’t remember what she had said.

Only the sound of her voice.

In the silence her was able to really hear it again clearly, for all it was. Her tone was deep, and sultry but she carried it with such an innocent expression that it graced over his ears like those thin, silky scarves he had seen on women on Naboo. He had been on Naboo maybe twice, but those pieces of fabric always caught his attention. They reminded him of liquid metal in the way they caught sunlight and glittered, hiding the faces of the women who wore them. It was always surprising that they never floated away from their owner, so easily being fluttered around by the smallest breezes that were uniquely known to always pass through in the city.

Her voice sounded just like he imagined those silken scarves feel.

As much as he tried to keep himself in the cockpit the thought that she might be hungry kept pushing him to return back down. The little food he had left wasn’t the greatest, but maybe in the bag he had grabbed from the cantina there was something a little better to offer.

He found the bag thrown in a corner of the hull, its contents spilling out on the floor from where it had tumbled over during their hasty take-off. A few med kits laid on top of a jar of what looked like some type of home-made soup. Something the girl might like having.

He didn’t have any real way of heating it up, but how why would he? Fresh food wasn’t a luxury he took liberty of, so he hoped that it wasn’t bad room temperature.  

He looked in her room, and found her pulling off a few of her shirts and tossing them unceremoniously on top of the boots she had taken off. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to cough to catch her attention and gain his voice back.

“I brought you something to eat.” he said holding out the soup that he had transferred into a cup.

She tilted her head, looking at the metal cup and nodded after seeing how insistent he was on her taking it from him. His fingers wrapped around the entire cup, and as she reached to take it, her fingers gently brushed his. For a small second his wished that he didn’t wear the heavy leather so he could have felt that moment without any barriers.

“Thank you.” She gave him the smallest smile retreating back onto the bed and crossed her legs to cradle the cup between them. “You know, my grandmother loved to do this.” She looked down at the soup, dipping a finger into the broth and bringing it back to her lips. Her eyes closed at the taste, and her smile widened a little.

Satisfied that he had at least given her something to eat he decided it was time for him to leave her in peace to do so.

“Um, you can stay if you want.” She voiced, stopping him from walking out of the room.

He took a second to look around, and found a crate to sit on across from her. She tipped the cup up and take a drink before settling her eyes back on him again.

“Do you want some?” she offered the cup back out to him, her eyes softening in his direction. “I’m being quite selfish considering you gave me a room to stay in.” she said taking another glance around the dimly lit room.

“No, thank you.” He replied raising his hand up, declining her offer. He tried very hard to think of something to say, but many of his question focused on what had happened, and from the swollen look of her eyes he decided against asking any of them.

“This is made from tauntaun broth… and a little bit of meat here and there. If you’re lucky to get a good bowl.” She murmured taking another sip.

Her small comment wasn’t necessarily a happy memory as far as Mando could tell. Hoth wasn’t forgiving, and food although they had it wasn’t the greatest quality or in get supply for every meal. That’s why seeing her grandmother had been so surprising, he had never heard of anyone living to such an old age on the harsh planet. Even more surprising was how well fed the girl looked after living on the ice rock.

She had discarded everything but a baggy long sleeved shirt, so thin that in the direction of the light he could see right through it. The deep curve at her waist flared back out into her hips that disappeared behind her arms that she held in her lap. From what he could tell her legs were shapely, and muscled underneath of the thick duraweave pants she wore.  

“I ate earlier.” He bluffed, trying make her feel better for eating alone. “What was her name?” he asked quietly, hoping that it wouldn’t upset her.

“Eidara.” She replied with a small hiccup interrupting her speech. “She wasn’t from Hoth, but I never knew much about her past.” Her voice lowered, almost regretfully.

“She didn’t tell me her name, I-”

“I understand, she seemed to really like you.” She interrupted, another tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips. He wished he could see her really smile.

She took another drink, and again reached it out to him. Her expression mirroring that of Eidara when he declined something to drink from her. This time her took in a heavy breath and rested his vambraces on his thighs.

“I do not remove my helmet.” He explained, watching as her brows knitted together in confusion. She seemed to search his helmet, and upper body looking at his armor and trying to find some reason why he couldn’t take it off.

“Are you… human?” she asked very hesitantly.

“Yes. My creed does not allow any Mandalorian to show their face once they take the oath.” He explained watching a wave of relief crash over her entire body. Her shoulders slumped back down, and the small wrinkle on her forehead melted away.

“For a second I got nervous.” She commented before tilting the cup all the way back and emptying it.

He wasn’t sure what to think of that. All it took for her to trust him was for him to say he was human? The smallest tinge of amusement bubbled in his stomach as he pictured her face again when he explained that it had nothing to do with his body. She didn’t ask any more about his creed, or even seem to mind that she couldn’t see his face.

“Where are we going?” she asked, taking a second to lean over and sit the empty soup cup on the floor.

“I’m not sure. I was supposed to have a meeting in Mos Eisley, but I don’t want another encounter with those men back on Hoth…” he trailed, again trying to find a way to get the bounties back to Tatooine without any inconveniency.

“Did they follow us? I thought that I put out a false comms transmission before we jumped.” She questioned fidgeting in her seat.

“I didn’t know you did that.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck feeling a little better about their situation. Her anxiousness faded just at it appeared, as she glanced up towards the cockpit.

“I did. I’m not sure if anyone on Hoth will receive it… not many people have ships like yours. It’s a little old. But if they do get it, they would be headed in the opposite direction we’re going.” She took to chewing on her lip again.

“Well then, we’re headed to Tatooine. And it’ll take the rest of the night.” He added, thinking about the days on Hoth, trying to give her a good idea of how long they would be on the ship. Hyperspace was tricky, all planets had different lengths on days and even though Mando was good at remembering it wasn’t easy to gauge hyperspace time.

“You need rest.” They said in unison.

A light awkwardness took over the room, and Mando was the first to move. He slowly stood up from the crate and reached to take the empty cup from the floor, making his way to the door resting his hand over the control switch for the room. His silent question got to her, and she nodded, pulling the blankets down from the head of the bed and slipping her legs underneath them. She looked at him with expectant eyes, waiting for the light to turn off.

His finger switched off the light. “If you need something, let me know.” He repeated himself from earlier, taking one last glance at her in the now darkened room.

“Sleep well.” She murmured back.

He took a couple steps and pushed the door a little further closed so the lights in the hull didn’t shine into her room, making sure that a small gap was left so in case she wanted to leave she didn’t have to search for the handle. He heard her shifting around in the bed, letting out a heavy sigh before all sound quieted behind the heavy steel door.

Mando pressed his forehead to the steel making a small clinking sound. It was all he could do to assure himself that the false transmission had mislead the men, and they would be safe in flying. Without more credits, he wouldn’t be able to keep the ship in the air. It seemed to be their only chance to play offense in this game.

He was suddenly reminded of the card game Sabacc with its stakes so high it could make an expert pilot’s nose bleed. Mando hated the game and always tried to avoid playing. It wasn’t because he couldn’t win in reality he couldn’t remember the last time he lost a game. What he didn’t like was the pressure in playing, and right now he was feeling that stress. Only this time credits weren’t at stake, it was the her life.

He blew out a rough breath for what felt like the hundredth time today, pressing his palms to the door and quietly whispered;

“Goodnight little one, I promise you’ll be safe with me.”

***

He spent the morning cleaning his blasters, and taking a better look at the weapons that had been left behind by Boba Fett. Most of the blasters were older than his own, but now that he only had his two blasters and the beskar spear he couldn’t find it in himself to ignore the firepower that sat hanging on the walls of the weapons closet. Everything was covered in a heavy layer of dust and needed cleaned before anything could be used. So he took his time pulling every gun off its rack, and thoroughly cleaning them inside and out.

He was halfway finished when he heard the water in the ‘fresher running. It sounded like the sink, but he wasn’t sure. The steady stream of water was interrupted, splashing every so often on the metal bowl. She didn’t leave the water on long and came out of the door with a freshly washed face and the roots of her hair were damp. The can of compressed air he had been using to blow the sand out from the small cracks dropped out of his hand and clattered onto the bench, drawing her attention to him.

She wiped off her face with the shirt one more time, trying to catch a few remaining water droplets that clung to her hairline before tucking her hands behind her back;

“Good morning.” She smiled, taking a glance at the blaster sitting on the worktable in front of him.

He gave a curt nod, and tried to focus back on the blaster in question. It was in rough shape with all of the dirt collecting in the necessary contact points making it impossible to Mando to reload it, or use it for that matter. She seemed just as interested in it, and took a few steps forward to pick up the canister that had clattered to the floor. She reached out and sat in back down on the table.

“You have a lot of blaster power here.” She took a look all around her at the walls, every inch of them covered in some type of blaster or explosive device.

“It’s necessary.” He replied, taking a small brush and scrubbing at a tight corner on the pistol that sand has packed itself into.

“The only ships I’ve ever seen like this belong to…” she sucked in a breath, “bounty hunters.”

He turned slowly to look at her, seeing a pink blush creeping up her neck and settling on her cheekbones. Damn it, that looked gorgeous. He pushed the thought from his mind, and took his own glance around the closet. None of what she was looking at was his really, it all belonged to Fett. That didn’t mean at one point he didn’t have this much on the Razor Crest, all of that had been his, truly.

“What does that tell you about me?” he asked, tilting his visor back down to her.

“If you are a bounty hunter -which I think you are- I believe that all of this looks a little excessive.” A teasing smile played on her lips. “But if you aren’t, I honestly don’t have a clue as to why anyone would need all this.” She gestured to the room, lifting her arms out to her sides and letting them drop with a small smack against her thighs.

“What makes you think I’m a bounty hunter?” his voice dropped lower. He turned the rest of his body to face her, teasing her in his own way. He could see that she was a little nervous by the way she rocked side to side and he began biting her lip again. Mando bit his own lip, mimicking her so he could feel what it felt like.

“The carbonite locker, and the men that are in it.” she answered, nodding in the direction of the machine. “I saw them when I first came on the ship. I knew immediately that you were a bounty hunter.” She added, looking up at Mando underneath of long eyelashes.

“Are you scared of me?” he almost whispered, not meaning to let his tone get so far away from him. He flexed his jaw, waiting for her to say ‘yes, I’m scared of you’, waiting for her to nod her head, and leave him to stand amongst the tools of his trade.

“No. Why would I be?” she sounded truly confused at his question. “What makes your job any of my business? After all, I should still be thanking you.”

“What for?” he pressed, still not backing away from her.

“You got me away from… him. Now he can’t find me.” It was a simple answer.

It hit him. She didn’t know that he had killed Vir. He mentally scolded himself for not realizing it until now. In her mind, she was away from him… but he was still alive. Of course in all of the upheaval, there wasn’t any time to communicate what had happened, but in the back of his mind he assumed that she knew he had done it. Mando assumed that she would think simply because he was a bounty hunter that he had caused all of it to happen.

Only now, he knew better.

“I don’t think he’ll find you.” He stated, making sure to correct her.

“Him or those followers.” He shook his head, she still wasn’t getting it. He cleared his throat, and tried to rephrase;

“Vir Fearbe is dead. I shot him yesterday when he broke into Eidara’s cantina.” He carefully chose to leave out the part where the old woman had asked him to.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in her shock. Tears started welling up in her eyes and a small choking sound came up in her throat. Her eyes searched Mando’s helmet for a few seconds and the shirt she had been holding dropped to the ground with a wet smack. She hadn’t uttered a word for what felt like minutes, when she finally spoke again;

“He’s gone?” the disbelief in her voice was evident.

Mando nodded, and watched as her head dropped and her shoulder started shaking. She took another step forward, increasingly close to him. He was just about to take a step back when her arms wrapped around his lower back, and her head rested against the bottom of his curiass. He could feel the heat of her hands radiating through his tunic, and the uneven pace of her breathing lightly racking against his stomach.

He couldn’t move feeling the weight of her body pressed against his, like she didn’t want to stand without his support. Her crying grew louder, and her hands fisted into his shirt and her nails scratched into his back, sending waves of tremors up and down his spine. It took a few seconds for him to come back to his senses and place a hand gently on her head.

She wailed out louder, feeling the weight of his small reciprocation. Mando gripped her head a little tighter, holding her head close but not letting the edge of his chest plate dig into her forehead.

“Shhh, I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his best to calm her down. “Everything’s okay.” He cooed, feeling like he was getting nowhere.

“Y-you.” She gapsed, her voice muffled against his stomach unable to get the words out.

He rubbed his free hand up and down her back soothingly, continuing his soft appeals for her to calm down. She didn’t seem ready to listen to anything he had to say. Seeing no other option, he slowly began lowering himself, and the girl down to the floor. He wrapped his arm around her waist keeping her tight to his chest even after he got sat down. She curled herself into a ball, her tears sliding off the beskar and soaking into his shirt. He bent his knees and squeezed them close to her, hoping that the pressure would help subside her awful sobs.

He didn’t mean to hurt her, he really thought that by telling her she was gone she might feel better.

“Please, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He purred, stroking the top of her head. “I- I’m sorry.”

She nuzzled closer to him, further tightening her grip around his waist. “Th- than-” She struggled to speak without hiccups interrupting her. He tried his best to hear her over the tears.

“Yo-u s-saved m-me.” She sputtered out, letting out a broken moan.

His hand running through her hair paused, momentarily as he finally heard her speak something other than broken attempts at saying something. She thanked him. He could still feel her nails in his back, desperately wanting more contact with him. Mando slowly rocked himself side to side, feeling her begin to slowly calm down.

You’re safe little one. Mando thought to himself, still rocking her back and forth.

After a few more long minutes, she lifted her head from the safety in his chest and looked up into the visor that was already looking back at her.

“You saved my life.” She repeated, almost like she was not understanding herself.

There were many things he wanted to say to her in the hopes that it would keep her from crying like that again. He wished that he wasn’t so terrible with words, and that he could say something that would resolve this issue. They sat on the floor, his eyes scanning the room through the limited visibility that was allowed through his helmet. Damn it, Sometimes this helmet does nothing but get in the way. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of searching for a way to ease the emotional turmoil that was going through the fragile girl that that was still sobbing slightly despite his best efforts, his eyes alighted on the container that held the remainder of the soup that seemed to comfort her the night before.

He repositioned his hands lifting her up close to his chest and standing up. Mando counted the doors, as he walked down the hall, careful not to bump her feet into the wall. He nudged her door open with his foot, and laid her down gently, seeing the tears still pooling in the corner of her red eyes.

“I’ll be back.”

He returned back with another cup of soup in hand, this time handing it to her making sure her shaking hands had a good grip before he let go. He kneeled down next to the bed letting the bite of the metal press hard into his knees. He watched her trace the rim of the cup, staring down at the soup inside. She dipped a finger down into it like she had done last night, but this time she let her finger stir through the broth.

“You shouldn’t play with your food.” He murmured absentmindedly, watching as she brought the finger up to her lips.

“I’m sorry… for all of this.” Her lip wobbled again, and small tears dropped off her nose smattering onto the sleeves of her shirt.

He stayed quiet, watching as she brought the cup up and took a sip. Her eyes closed, and the corners of her lips turned up. It helped. Her apology didn’t fall on deaf ears but he definitely didn’t accept it. There was no reason for her to not feel this way… and he wasn’t the man to misunderstand her desire for a moment of sadness.

Mando stayed right by her side, patiently waiting until the cup was empty.  Tears had dried to her cheeks, but he was content to see that she wasn’t crying any more, and that she had finished another full cup of soup. She gave him a heavy lidded gaze, and slowly leaned her head against the pillow. If it wasn’t for the distant sound of the alarms in the cockpit he would’ve stayed longer. They were ready to land on Tatooine, and his contact on Mos Eisley would be waiting for him. She mumbled a small ‘thank you’ to which he nodded and exited her room.

He took control of the ship, and guided it down to the busy landing pads covered in pit droids and other pilots landing, or getting ready to take off. The stale air of Eisley filtered through the cockpit, and a small sense of unpreparedness filled Mando’s gut. There would be someone picking up the bounties while he received his credits… but the girl was still on the ship. There wasn’t a chance that he was going to bring her into town with him, but the idea of leaving her alone was just as unpalatable. The Slave Two shuddered as it’s landing gear made contact with the ground, and Mando kicked off the engines letting the whines of the mechanics sound all around him.  

If he shut the doors to all the rooms in the hull, the possible temptation of the retrieval crew wouldn’t be as high and if he kept conversations short, he would be back in less than thirty minutes. More than enough time to refill his water supply and top off any fuel that he spent getting from Hoth. He took a second to do just that, locking all the doors with the buttons on his vambrace and double checking that the door to the girls room was unable to open, unless from the inside. He hoped that she slept through the entire visit.

He set the ground security and gave the last of his credits to one of the pit droids who began screaming orders to another group of them that were busy on the ship next to the Slave. Even though the little robots seemed quite serious about their work, he couldn’t help but wish that a person was tending to the ship. He just couldn’t believe that a droid could do a humans job.

When he stepped foot into the dusty cantina, shadows of men seemed to slink further back into the dark edges of the room. Loud conversations became hushed whispers, and the energetic tone he had walked into became deathly still. It felt like the entire population inside the dirty bar was holding its breath, waiting for him to announce the name of his next target. Even inside the heat was stifling, and Mando could feel his hair dampening with sweat by the second.

After scanning the room, trying to find someone that looked familiar he found himself recognizing a woman, who sat in a corner booth with a hood draped lowly over her face. She took a quick glance at him before shying away again. He couldn’t place where he had seen her before, but decided that the Hutt’s methods of anonymity could’ve been more… interesting than he had imagined.

He took a seat across from her, and sat patiently for her to acknowledge him.

“You are the Mandalorian.” She finally said, her voice sounding somewhat familiar. She removed the hood from her head, and he was finally able remember.

“Aren’t you…” he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud. She was one of the Hutt’s pleasure slaves that had been chained to his chair when he first arrived. However she looked a lot different now, with a decent amount of clothes on and her face clean without any paint.

“Yes.” she frowned, reaching slowly into her cloak and discreetly presented a sack of credits to him. He took it from her, and stuffed it into one of the bigger pouches on his belt. “However he has grown tired of me, and I am being sent back.” She answered, pulling at a metallic collar that had been shielded by the cloak. A small red light blinked, lighting up the skin on her neck. “I was asked to also give you these…”

She placed four new pucks on the table, along with matching tracking fobs that had already been activated before their meeting. “You have five weeks to complete the contracts.” She stated like reading from a script;

“Also, consider the incident on Hoth to be your one warning, and that any further displays of unnecessary interaction will terminate your position.” Her robotic tone ended with a long gasp of breath.

Mando took a glance over his shoulder, checking to see the incoming patrons who found themselves a seat at the bar. “Is that all?” he pushed, leaning up to reach for the hardware on the table.

She woman shook her head silently, and reached up to scratch her neck underneath of the heavy collar. “No, one last thing. You have been reimbursed for your fuel and water supplies that you paid for upon your arrival. The service droids will be waiting to refund your credits.”

Mando tucked away the pucks and the fobs, before nodding a quick goodbye and making a quick path back to the landing yard. Upon his arrival, the filling tubes were being unhooked from the Slave’s access panels on the belly of the ship, and the droid he had given his credits to  quickly approached with a beaten up metal box in his hand of sorts. The credits inside jingled around at the jerky movements of the jittery robot until Mando reached in the tin box to retrieve them.

The pit droid shook the box gently, and assured himself that the credits had been taken. Letting out a few beeps and buzzing sounds it energetically hinted at Mando to follow him. Hesitantly he walked behind the bucket of rust as it led him to the side of the ship, to show that the panels had been secured at that the tanks had been filled accordingly. Mando let out a defeated sigh, and handed two credits back to the droid.

“Keep it, maybe you can use it to keep from rusting into sand.” He said looking down at the constantly moving metallic being. The droid made a few whistling sounds before speeding off towards his companions who were at the moment repairing some nasty blaster holes that were riddled over the side of a ship across the tarmac.

Punching in the commands on his wrist, the hatch opened and he jumped up on the slope ready to get back into space as quickly as possible. He checked the carbonite locker making sure it was empty, before checking around the corner to see if any of the doors had been disturbed. He scanned down the long hallway, seeing nothing out of order.

Nothing had been opened, including her door.

A he let out a sigh, and silently got them back into space. He took a moment, and adjusted the same lever that she had, hearing a small release in the engines lowering the dull thrum that had been present when he first took off. He shook his head, wondering just what the lever did. He’d have to ask her later… But for now, finding coordinates for a new quarry was the best thing to do.

Mando took the pucks out from his belt, and one by one displayed the content, trying to find last known sightings closest to his position. Although it wasn’t technically close one of the quarry’s had been seen on Coruscant, and was believe to be using the extensive undercity regions to hide amongst other criminals. The twi’lek was contracted for unknown reasons, described by the hologram, but it wasn’t unusual for buyers to leave their reasons private.

This didn’t matter though, Mando had heard of the man while working under the Guild. He was a known smuggler, loved to gamble despite being having no credits and terrible luck. If Mando had to take a guess, the bounty was raised because of debts owed to a group of people, interested in getting their money back. He hated to admit it, but the quarry was being somewhat smart. Coruscant was heavily populated making it easy for him to blend in just about anywhere.

For Mando, getting there wasn’t going to be hard. Even finding the quarry without drawing attention wouldn’t be much of an issue, but getting the quarry back to his ship would be most difficult. He wasn’t unprepared for the possibility that the twi’lek had hired guards, or help to keep him from being apprehended but it was like walking into a dark room without his helmet. He had no real way of knowing what he was up against without some more information as to what was happening in the dark streets of the underground.

Hyperspace for another few days. He thought setting the coordinates, and turning off the lights in the cockpit.

He could feel the dampness of the padding in his helmet, along with sweaty strands of hair clinging to his forehead and temples. Even his skin felt wet with the exertion of the last three days, and it clung to him like the thick dust that he had been cleaning from the blasters in the closet. A visit to the ‘fresher sounded like a great idea, and the promise of a clean undershirt and pants sounded better.  

He only kept a couple spares of his clothes, and in his own cabin inside a small metal box under his cot. When the Crest was destroyed, it erased everything but his spear, and the small metal ball that Grogu had taken an interest in. Any clothes he had, were incinerated and upon getting the Slave, he had taken the opportunity to replace the old, and threadbare flight suit that he had been left with.  

The water sprayed out of the nozzle that poked out from the ceiling, blasting out cold water. He carefully removed his armor, sitting in in a small pile on the floor and placing his helmet down on top of a small vent that blew fresh air up from the circulation unit that sat in the belly of the craft. He made sure to crack the door just enough so that the steam could be pulled from the room to allow the vent to dry the thick lining and padding in his helmet while he showered.  

When the hot water met his skin he shuddered at the sensation. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the salty texture of his sweat rinse off down the drain. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a shower, and took a second to decide that he would stay in the water for as long as he could. The purple and blue bruises on his side seemed to finally relax a little so he lean over and stretch his sore ribs. The heat felt deliciously good on his muscles too, working away at the constant pinches of tightness in his shoulders and neck.

A large -mostly untouched- bar of Trillium soap sat on the singular ledge in the shower stall which Mando grabbed and began lathering in his hands. It was one of the only smells that Mando had come to think of as familiar, simply for the fact that it was one of the only scents he had the opportunity to experience. He couldn’t describe it, other than that it smelled cleaner than he did. The thick lather could wash off anything, and it was one of the only things he actually looked for when resupplying. If it worked for Wookies, then it could work for him.

With the soap covering his entire body, and a decent foam in his hair he felt good enough to rinse and get out.

As much as he wanted to stay for longer, he reminded him that it wasn’t just himself on the ship, and the tank on the Slave was the only water supply on board. They needed it for everything from drinking to anything else that might be necessary. That included washing his old flight suit in the sink basin.

He toweled off, redressed and picked up his helmet to check if the inside was dry enough before jamming in back down on his head. He would let the dirty shirt and pants sit in the sink for a little while longer, so the soap he had just washed with could try and life out some of the dirt that had attached itself to the heavily interwoven fabric.

He turned his boots upside down, letting a small accumulation of sand collect on the floor before shoving his newly socked feet back into them. Ignoring the three utility belts that hung on the wall outside of the door, he took a moment to inhale. It might smell sweet. He thought, trying to place the scent in accordance with something else from his memory, nevertheless he still wasn’t sure.

***

The girl slept through the entire night, and halfway into the next day before waking up. She quietly joined Mando in the cockpit, saying a quiet ‘hello’.

She refrained from wearing any shoes again, but Mando couldn’t blame her; If he thought that taking his own boots off would feel more comfortable he might’ve tried it. That being said, he knew in the back of his mind it would be… and the thought of that kept him from entertaining the idea. He felt the same way about his helmet. He didn’t look forward to taking it off, even when he was alone. Because there was always going to be a time where he had to put it back on.

Despite the protection and enhanced features that allowed him to work more efficiently, there was so much that he missed when his head was covered. Smells… like his soap were experiences that happened few and far between. Colors were also not the same. Yes, he could see them but taking his helmet off almost exclusively happened on the ship, so the world he saw without the helmet was mostly greyscale and metal. Sounds were also distorted slightly through the microphones that surrounded the helm. There were distinctions between voices, but for the most part there was always a somewhat mechanical ambiance that weaved itself into speech.

That was what made her voice so intriguing to him. He wasn’t sure how… maybe it was her tone, or the low inflection that caused his helmet to almost completely forgo the automated toning formats, and allow her voice to come through almost naturally. That’s what had stopped him when they first spoke on Hoth; He had been momentarily preoccupied with the idea that his helmet was malfunctioning. But the more she talked, he realized that it wasn’t a technical issue, it was just that her voice didn’t seem to effect the auditory mechanics.

“What time is it?” she asked, pulling her feet up in the chair. She hugged her thighs to her chest, resting her head on her knees.  

“I don’t know,” he admitted, trying to think what time it would be on Hoth… or possibly on Coruscant. “Hyperspace is difficult in that way. All planets don’t have equal planetary rotations, so time is just relative when you’re not traveling sub-light.”

She nodded. “Did we already stop on…”

“Tatooine? Yes, you fell asleep right before we landed.” She hummed in response to him, a small sense of disappointment catching his attention. “Why do you ask?”

“Never mind, it wasn’t anything important.”

He readjusted in his chair, taking the opportunity to admire how she looked in the bright hyperspace lights. It lit up her eyes making them look like they were glittering. Even her hair seemed to shine against the tints of blue that warped around them. She looks beautiful like this. Her hair was quite messy, and the deep wrinkles in her shirt gave a undone appearance, but Mando couldn’t help but think that she couldn’t look any better.

“What was it?” he asked, letting his head fall back against the chair.

“I guess I wanted to see what it looked like. All the sand, I mean. I’ve never been anywhere but Hoth, and the idea of a planet looking any different seemed… interesting.”

It hadn’t crossed his mind that she would want to see Tatooine. He’d been there so often that all the sand was no different than anything else in the galaxy. Snow was the only thing she knew. Now that he thought about it, she had seemed interested in where they were headed but he hadn’t been smart enough to guess why. He closed his eyes, feeling her soft gaze  burning into the side of his helm.

“I thought you wanted to sleep…” he replied, trying to keep his frustrated tone soft.

The frustration was at himself being so focused on getting them on and off the planet quickly, that he overlooked her excitement about being somewhere foreign to her. “We’re on our way to Coruscant. I have a bounty to find, but we’ll be meeting someone. While I find the quarry, you’ll be staying with them.”

“A friend?” her head lifted from her legs.

“No. An associate of sorts, but someone that can be trusted.” Mando wasn’t sure if it would work.

He had caught Boba Fett saying that he would be on the planet when they first made their flight to Tatooine. He expected that Fett didn’t catch the slip of information, seeing as Mando wasn’t in the cockpit when he communicated it… but without making contact, it would be difficult to know if he was still there. Mando was making a big gamble on it, and he hoped that Fett wouldn’t be too opposed to the idea he was going to propose.

“So we’ll be staying with your associate.” She tried correcting herself.

“Just you. I have to go somewhere that isn’t suitable for you to be.”

She didn’t respond after that. Instead she curled herself further into a ball and watched out ahead of her. They sat like that for hours seemingly comfortable by just being in the same space, not seeing conversation as a necessity to make time pass. Mando began hearing the smallest growls, and immediately checked to see if it was her stomach that made the low rumbles.

“Are you hungry?” his modulator crackling to life after the extended silence. She gave no response. He let out an amused huff, seeing that she had fallen back to sleep in what looked like the most uncomfortable position he had ever seen. Her head was resting on the heard edge of the armrest, her entire body bunched up in the seat, with her feet pressed tight up against the other armrest to keep from falling out of the chair altogether.

Unbelievable. He thought, wondering how she had managed to fold herself up to fit in such a small space. It hadn’t been that long ago that he had glanced over and saw her still awake, and playing with the hem of her shirt and as always, holding her bottom lip between her teeth. Well, the least he could do was let her keep sleeping. They wouldn’t be anywhere near Coruscant for at least a couple estimated days.

In the meantime, he could try to get a hold of Boba Fett and see if he was going to be of any help. The communicator in the ship most likely still had some connection to Fett’s other ship, or maybe -if he was lucky- Fett’s similar vambrace communicator. He examined one of the screens on the dash, and found only two available options… he picked the first one. A blue holocall screen jutted up from the control dash, small digital waves rippling across the monitor as he waited for an answer.

Come on Fett… answer.

The blue lights disappeared, ending the transmission. He tried the other option bouncing his knee in anticipation for an answer. A small flicker of motion distorted the display before he heard a familiar gruff tone.

“Mandalorian.” Fett barked. “How the hell did you do that?” he interrogated, as Mando saw his helmet come into view.

“The ship. It had your communicator link still the in the system.” He explained, watching as Boba shook his head.

“I expect you aren’t calling to play ‘catch-up’…” he chuckled, “What do you want?” his tone flattened.

“You said you were going to be on Coruscant?”

“Maybe. If I was, why would it matter to you?”

Mando leaned forward, dropping his visor toward the floor. “I need you to do something.”

He heard Fett sigh, full irritation setting in. “Damn it Mandalorian, spit it out. I have somewhere to be.”

“I have a bounty, on Coruscant. But I also have… a girl.” He glanced over at her, still fast asleep.

Fett burst into laughter. “I leave you alone for a month… leave it to you to get yourself some company. I have to say I’m surprised.”

“It’s not like that.” He defended. “Can you keep her safe while I catch this quarry?” he asked, his own irritation tinting his tone.

Fett didn’t speak for a long time, only a grainy sound of women laughing in the background. Mando rolled his eyes, leave it to Fett to talk about company, he couldn’t go anywhere without at least one woman trailing not too far behind.

“I suppose you’ll be landing in Galactic City… and spend most of your time down under am I correct?” he surmised Mando’s outlined plan without trouble.

“Yes. Can you take care of her, or not?” he asked looking back up at Fett’s mirrored image of his own face.

“I’ll meet you when you land. From there, I take her where she’ll be safe.” He paused. “Then I’ll be joining you.” He added, a feminine squeal sounding somewhere in the background behind him.

“No wa-”

“It’s the only way you get my help.” He interjected. “I’ve been craving a little game of chase… think of it as a trade.” his low rumbling chuckle echoed in the cockpit.

“You can promise she’ll be taken care of.” Mando growled.

“She’ll be returned better than when she left. You have my word.” He assured, a quick nod jolting his helmet.

The call went black, and the blue tint disappeared from view.

As much as he wanted to trust Fett, a small bit of him didn’t like the idea of him tagging along, or sending the girl somewhere without him having full knowledge of where exactly she was being taken. Mando relaxed back against his seat, and turned his head to watch her sleep.

She looked peaceful, despite that awful way she was laying. He felt slightly jealous how easy it was for her to fall asleep, but after everything that she’s been dealing with, it wasn’t surprising how much time she spent asleep. What surprised him was her trust in him. She slept without any fear of him despite his constant stalking around the ship, and silently hiding himself away in the cockpit. He wasn’t the ideal companion in any situation, but spending days on end in hyperspace with him couldn’t be preferable. He could barely stand himself after a week on the ship, let alone someone else who had just watched her only family die, and an entire crew of men chase after her.

Maybe she could stay on Coruscant? In the right district, she would be perfectly safe.

That was, unless those men knew where they were already. His lack of knowledge about what exactly they wanted her for was maddening. They had to know he was the one who killed Vir, but that didn’t explain the desire for her, instead of himself. Not only that, but he had no idea what they were capable of, or who Vir and his followers were connected to. Every planet they visited could be a possible trap, and with four weeks to fulfill his contracts he hardly had time to tip-toe around a planet that was harboring one of his quarry.

At least now he would have someone on the inside once they landed. Despite Fett’s penchant for having multiple women at his disposal, Mando didn’t really have any reason not to trust him. Fett had helped them rescue his foundling and didn’t kill him on Tython, and ultimately gave him a ship… that was enough for him to trust the man.

All that was left to do was wait.

The girl stirred in her chair, but didn’t wake up. She wrapped her arms around herself, and tucked her feet in closer, most likely she was cold. He didn’t want to wake her up, or  leave to go take any of the blankets off her bed either. He reached up to his neck, and unbound his cape from around his pauldrons. Mando reached over and draped the heavy cloak over her, watching her pull the edge up towards her chin. The material draped over the entire chair, swallowing her underneath it.

Mando didn’t mean to fall asleep.

For the first time in years he dreamt. They carried vivid recollections of her, his imagination picturing what she would’ve looked like on the sand flats. She had the biggest smile on her face, and her eyes shut letting the sunlight shine on her. She picked up handfuls of sand, and let in fall through her fingers with a little laugh, enjoying the sensation of the fine grit falling back down to the ground. He could see that she had neglected her shoes like she had stepped out of them after realizing that she could feel it under her feet.

The bright white shirt he pictured her in contrasted against the rust-colored sky, and deep red sands that stretched behind her. It felt like a memory, even though he knew better. He could hear her calling out to him begging for him to join her, only he didn’t. He could only watch from a distance as she spun around, holding her arms out like she was embracing the heat around her. Mando tried desperately to get closer, just to walk towards her and ask if she was enjoying the sun. But his feet felt like they had been buried beneath the same sand she danced on.

In another scene she sat by a small stream, letting the hem of her thin white dress fall into the water. She was focused on him, with a sweet look on her face. A small giggle echoing dreamily towards him. Vibrantly green grass came up around her shoulders, and tickled at her neck causing her light laughter. Again she beckoned for him, dipping her hands down in the water and splashing it up towards him.

She looked ethereal in all of the dreams that he had. Every time, taking the image of an angelic spirit that seemed happy to see him, always begging for him to join her. He desperately wanted to reach for her, to get near enough to hear her laugh with his own ears. Just one chance at breaking his feet free from the ground that held him tightly in place. She never seemed to notice his fight to break free from his invisible binds, instead patiently waiting for him to come closer.

She’s my second chance…

She’s my second chance…

He repeated it to himself unaware that in the silence of the cockpit his strained whispers could be heard whispering out in his unconscious struggles. Gripping the armrests with white knuckles and flexing his legs, he fought against his subconscious to get just one step closer to the girl that slept peacefully in the seat right next to him.

Taglist: @spacedaddydinn​ @absurdthirst​ @crazybirb​ @hornystarwarsbisexual​ @roxypeanut​ 

[singledarkshade]

Back To The Beginning

Summary: Overwhelmed by the new world he's in and all that is expected of him, Michael is surprised to find a familiar man injured near his hiding place. Author’s Note: Day 7: Free Day – You're free to give us anything you like, so let your imagination run wild. Based in the same universe as my story 'Worth Something'.                                ********************************************* It was a warm sunny day and Michael smiled to himself as he walked away from the house towards the lake. He’d found the spot concealed beneath the trees where he could hide away during the first few days that he’d been at the Refuge. Settling into his space, he pulled a bottle of water out of his bag and set it in the shaded nook to keep it cool. Next came his book, then his notepad to write the questions he had on what he was reading, while the cookies he had taken from the kitchen were left in the backpack which he hung on the small branch beside him.

Michael liked the house, he liked Miss Xavier, he was even beginning to like some of the other kids and the things he was learning were beyond anything he could have dreamed just a few months ago but…

They expected so much of him, so much he didn’t know he could live up to. Time Master Druce especially had high expectations and Michael felt nervous every time the man visited. Druce had save his life, had brought him here where he had a home and Miss Xavier, so Michael didn’t want to disappoint him.

He’d been taken to the Time Master Academy a few days ago, and it was incredible but overwhelming.

Which was why he was here to hide away today.

He had a feeling Miss Xavier knew he came here because there were always bottles of water as well as cookies waiting for him to take but she never said anything.

He remembered being in London before he came to the Refuge, the crowds, the noise, the smell, the cold, and the hunger. It seemed like a dream sometimes.

Miss Xavier especially was someone he never knew could exist. She was stern and didn’t let them away with anything, but she was also kind and caring. He spent time with her making cakes every Saturday, which he had come to love doing and noticed that she made sure to spend some one-on-one time with each of the kids in the house at least once a week.

Settling down with the book he was reading, Michael drank some water and ate his cookies. He knew he had a few hours before he had to return to the house so enjoyed the peace, jumping at the sudden thud and cry of pain echoing from nearby.

Michael slowly put down his book and looked around, finding nothing he stood pulling out the knife he kept in his boot. Stepping forward carefully, Michael walked further into the tree covering and stopped in surprise as he saw a man he didn’t know, but who looked familiar, lying on the ground.

Michael could see the man was in pain, but then again, he could be acting. Nervously he took a few steps towards the man whose eyes were still closed tightly as his hands fisted against the tremors going through him.

“Hello?”

The man’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at Michael, “Oh no,” he groaned, “Why did I end up here?”

Michael remained silent and stared at the man.

The man groaned and forced himself to sit up, “Michael?”

“How do you know my name?” Michael demanded, gripping his knife tightly.

The man chuckled, “I know you, or at least you’ll know me one day.”

“I should get Miss Xavier,” Michael took a few slow steps away.

“Miss Xavier?” the man frowned before asking, “You’re not been here long, have you?”

Michael found himself nodding, “I’ve been here about a month.”

The man let out a long breath his eyes drooping, before he forced himself to stay awake.

“Go get, Mo…Miss Xavier,” the man told him, “But you must only tell her. If anyone else is there, especially one of the Time Masters they cannot know about me.”

Confused Michael nodded before asking, “Do you want some water while I’m away?”

He smiled, “Yes, thank you,” before adding, “Thinking about it if you have some paper, let me write Miss Xavier a note.”

Still confused Michael ran back to his bag, pulled a page out of his notebook, grabbed his pen and a bottle of water. He handed the man the paper and pen before opening the bottle for him. The man shakily wrote a note and folded it in two, taking the water he sighed as he drank.

“Go, I’ll be fine until you get back,” the man assured when Michael hesitated.

Surprised the man knew what Michael had been thinking, he took the note and began to run back to the house. Michael slowed as he reached the front door not wanting anyone to think he was in a rush, something he knew how to do from not that long ago. Looking for Miss Xavier, he grimaced to find she was talking with Time Master Golden.

“Is something wrong, Michael?” Miss Xavier asked when she spotted him hovering in the doorway.

Relieved the man had given him a note, Michael silently handed it to her. Miss Xavier read it quickly and nodded, Michael had looked at it himself and had no idea what it meant, it was a few letters and numbers, but she clearly did.

“Michael,” Miss Xavier refolded the note and slid it into her apron pocket, “I’ll be out once Time Master Golden and I have finished our conversation.”

Nodding again he ran out the house and waited for Miss Xavier at the end of the path bouncing nervously. Finally, Time Master Golden left the house and walked the other way towards the port where his ship was docked. A few minutes later Miss Xavier appeared with her medical bag.

“Take me to the man you found.”

 Mary followed the little boy towards the trees at the lake, past Michael’s hiding spot and towards a familiar man sitting against one of the trees. Hearing them he looked up and a relieved smile touched his lips as tears filled his eyes.

“Mother,” he breathed in relief when she reached him.

Mary rested her hand on his cheek and soothed, “Just rest and let me check you.”

“I overloaded a time core,” he murmured, “It’s temporal sickness.”

Mary frowned at him as she searched through the bag for the serum, “I am assuming there was a good reason for doing so.” “At the moment, it’s debateable,” he whispered, adding a moment later to the little boy standing watching, “It’s okay, Michael. Miss Xavier knows what she’s doing.”

Mary shook herself remembering the younger version of the man she was treating was standing watching.

“Michael,” she turned to the boy after injecting the older version with the serum, “Do you have any more water?”

Her newest foundling nodded and disappeared leaving Mary with the man the boy would become.

“This is going to be complicated,” she noted, “I’ll have to think of something to call you that won’t alter his future or let him suspect who you are.”

“I can leave now I’ve had the serum,” he tried to stand but couldn’t quite get off the ground.

Mary gave him a frown, “You are not going anywhere until I know you have recovered fully.”

“I shouldn’t be around him,” he breathed, “Even if you remove his memory, it could still cause problems.”

“Trust me,” Mary whispered, stroking his hair comfortingly.

He sighed leaning into her hand, “I do. You’re the first person I ever trusted.”

Glancing over to where Michael was running over with some more water, she smiled, “That’s good to know.”

Michael arrived back at their side and, after opening it, offered the bottle of water to the man he would become.

“Thank you,” the older version said before he took a long drink.

Mary rested her arm around Michael when he moved to her side. The little boy had a look of worry on his face as he watched his older self. Mary could see the boy knew he had a connection to the man but thankfully didn’t understand what it was.

“We can’t leave you sitting here,” Mary said, “We have to get you back to the house.”

“How?” Michael asked.

“I can walk,” the older version sighed, pushing himself to his feet unsteadily showing her that Michael’s stubborn streak was going nowhere.

Mary caught him as Michael moved so that his older self could use his shoulder to stay upright and, slowly, they returned to the house.

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

 Rip remembered the house to be much larger, especially the bedrooms. It had taken some time for his mother to help him walk back along the path, his younger self on the other side assisting. Finally, they made it back and up to the spare room next to his old bedroom. Not the best place for him to be situated but it was currently the only free space there was.

He was relieved that the explosion from the time core had dropped him here, this was the safest place he could think of, even if this was one of the most complicated times in his young life.

Exhaustion filled him and Rip closed his eyes leaning back on the pillows, feeling the tremors sliding through his body. Thankfully, he’d received the serum quickly which meant, hopefully, he shouldn’t suffer the more serious effects of temporal sickness. The last thing he needed was to flicker though his time stream. A noise at his side made Rip open his eyes surprised to find his younger self sneaking in through the door.

“I thought that was locked,” Rip said softly.

Michael looked at him innocently, “Was it?”

Chuckling softly, Rip smiled, “I’m fine.”

His younger self gave him a frown that meant he did not believe Rip.

“More or less,” he conceded.

Michael closed the door and sat on the chair at the desk, “What’s your name?”

Rip hesitated, trying to work out what name he could use that wouldn’t cause any problems finally settling on, “Hunter.”

“You used to live here,” Michael stated, “Didn’t you?”

Rip nodded, not surprised that Michael worked this out, he’d always had the ability to make intuitive leaps, and this wasn’t exactly hard to deduce.

“Are you a Time Master?” Michael asked.

He paused for a moment before replying, “No.”

“Then how did you grow up here?”

“Michael,” their mother appeared suddenly, “What are you doing here?”

Looking contrite, his younger self gave a one shoulder shrug, “Just wanted to check on Hunter.”

His mother looked at him, “Hunter,” she stated, testing the name before continuing, “Needs to rest.”

Michael grimaced before he nodded.

“We can talk later,” Rip told him softly.

The boy gave another half shrug before he slipped away leaving Rip alone with his mother. Rip gave a soft chuckle, “I really was a skinny runt.”

She quickly checked to ensure the younger version had left before stating, “You are a wonderful child,” Mary sat at his side placing her hand on his forehead, “He is confused and learning to adapt to a new world, it is good to know he will grow into a strong man.”

Rip dropped his eyes, “Maybe not.”

Mary pulled out a scanner to do a proper medical check on him, “What about the name you gave him?”

“I can’t tell him my real name,” Rip replied, “He’ll work out who I am and telling him my full chosen Time Master name isn’t a good idea either, having him work out that I’m him will just add to the problems he’s already has.”

“What do you mean?”

Rip sighed before explaining, “At this moment he’s having a hard enough time as it is with the expectations Druce is placing on him as he gets used to a world so different to what he’s always known.”

“He is you,” she reminded him.

Rip shrugged, “Even I’m having a hard time with the concept he’s me. I’ve seen him at other times but never interacted with him quite like this.”

Mary sighed before asking, “What happened, Michael?”

“I made mistakes, Mother,” Rip whispered, “I just…” he trailed off shaking his head, “I thought I was doing the right thing but the people I assumed would listen to my expertise just refused to hear what I had to say.”

Mary caught his hand, “So you overloaded a core?”

“Trying to stop a Time Demon released before the people who did it, knew how to stop it with the weapon they had,” he explained before sighing, “I’m hoping I stopped him long enough for them to work it out.”

“Once I’m sure that you’re healthy enough,” Mary told him sternly, “Then you can find out but until that time, you will rest.”

Rip smiled, he’d missed her so much and settled down giving into his exhaustion, “Yes, Mother.”

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

 Michael stood outside the door to the room where their guest was staying. He didn’t know why he wanted to talk to Hunter so much, but he felt he needed to. There was something strange about the man who had appeared from nowhere, something familiar and Michael wanted, no needed to work out what it was.

After checking to ensure Miss Xavier was not nearby, as she’d told him not to disturb Hunter, Michael gently knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Hunter called. Opening the door, Michael found Hunter was sitting up with a mug of tea smiling slightly, “I’m guessing Mo…Miss Xavier is busy somewhere.”

Michael shrugged, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Hunter hesitated, “I’m getting there. What about you? How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Michael shrugged again.

Hunter chuckled, “No you’re not. And you have to stop doing the shrug. It’s a bit of a tell. Be confident in whatever you’re saying, especially when you’re not.”

Confused Michael pulled the seat over from the desk and sat to face him, “They expect so much, and I don’t know if I can do everything they want.”

“Time Master Druce,” Hunter said knowingly.

Surprised Michael nodded.

Hunter let out a long sigh and sat silently for several minutes, finally saying, “I know how overwhelming this all is. I remember when I was your age and suddenly being here in a world so different from the one that I knew.”

“I thought you weren’t a Time Master,” Michael frowned.

Hunter shrugged, “I’m not anymore, which is a long story, but I trained at the Vanishing Point, and I grew up here.”

Michael stared at him before asking, “How long was it before you felt you could do it?”

Hunter laughed softly, “It took me some time, but I promise there will come a day where you will feel comfortable and confident with everything you’re learning.”

“I…” Michael started hesitating before saying, “I sometimes miss…” he took a breath before saying quickly, “I sometimes miss my old life. Is that silly?”

Sighing, Hunter shook his head, “No. I know exactly what you mean. But this place is much better for you.”

“I was very sick,” Michael mused, “Miss Xavier said if they hadn’t fixed me then I wouldn’t have made it through another winter.”

Hunter rested a hand on his chest, his eyes far away before he shook himself, “You are very smart, Michael. You have gifts that would never have been utilised back there. And those gifts will help save people. I promise you.”

Michael stared at him.

“But the things you learned in your old life,” Hunter continued, “Will also be needed, so practice those as well.”

A beeping made Michael sigh and he pulled out the small device he’d been given that they called a courier out his pocket, “I have a class now.”

“You’re meant to wear that on your wrist,” Hunter chuckled.

Michael wrinkled his nose, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Hunter told him, “But make sure you wear it whenever you’re in a class or see Time Master Druce. It’s important.”

Nodding Michael attached it to his wrist, “I will.”

 Rip smiled to himself as he watched his younger self leave the room to go to his class. Slowly standing Rip walked to the window allowing him a view of the courtyard.

A chill went through him as he spotted Druce walking along the path toward Michael. Rip drew the dagger from his boot and gripped it tightly. He could change his entire life with one stroke. By stabbing the evil bastard standing not far from his younger self, the person who had gained his trust then taken all Rip loved, it would change everything. But Rip knew if he did then he would probably never have met Miranda, he would never have had his son and Rip could not bear the thought of never knowing either of them.

There were times he hated time travel and hated even more how well he knew the consequences of changing his own past.

“Get away from the window,” his mother’s sharp voice came from behind him, “You should know better.”

Rip sighed and turned to her, “Sorry, Mother.”

“The children are being taken on a surprise visit to the Academy,” she told him, “So you will be able to spend some time in the garden this afternoon. I will let you know once they’ve left.”

 Mary helped the grown-up version of one of her children to the seat in the garden, he was trying hard to not show any weakness, but she could see the temporal sickness had taken its toll. It was interesting to see the man young Michael had grown into, but she was worried about him. The stubbornness she saw in the boy she had taken in had clearly remained. What worried her most was the sadness that filled him, even though he tried to hide it, Mary could see.

Part of her wanted to know what had happened to him since he left her care but knew that she wasn’t able to. Instead, she focussed on caring for him, and ensuring his younger self did not work out who their guest was.

“Thank you,” Michael said as Mary placed a cup of tea on the table beside him. Taking a seat at his side, Mary took a sip of her own.

“Michael said he’s been here about a month,” Michael said, “I only have vague memories of this time.”

“What do you remember?” Mary asked interested.

He mused for a moment before shrugging, “Being confused whether or not it was a good thing that I liked being here, that I liked you,” he smiled when she squeezed his hand, “How different everything was to what I had always known.”

“Do you remember how you reacted seeing the ships for the first time?” Mary asked.

With a faraway look, Michael nodded, “I was terrified. I had never seen anything like that before.”

Mary reached out and gently stroked his hair, “Which was why I kept telling you to stop your escape acts from the medical centre.”

“My need to escape has served me well,” he murmured softly. Catching Mary’s hand, Michael smiled at her, “I am going to apologise now for everything I will put you through.”

A chuckle escaped her lips, “Now that is not comforting at all.”

 Michael’s bedroom seemed smaller than Rip remembered. He hadn’t meant to look inside, but he wanted to see his old room, even if in some ways it felt like he was intruding, which was ridiculous.

This was the first place that had been his own, a place he felt safe to keep things and Rip stepped inside checking under the mattress, finding the small knife he’d hidden there. Looking at the knife, he remembered gripping it in the middle of the night sometimes. He knew he was safe but when the shadows from his nightmares would appear the weapon was all that made him feel protected. At the time it surprised him that his mother had never found it, now he was sure she left the knife where it was because she understood how much he’d needed it.

Returning the small knife back to its hiding place, Rip studied the bookshelves remembering putting together his system. Books still to be read were kept on the lower left shelf, then moved to the right unless it was one that he wanted to reread which were put on the higher shelves on the left. It was a system he kept when moving to the Vanishing Point then to his ship.

“Tell me where I will find food,” Mary said, coming into the room behind him, “I know he squirrels some away every day.”

Rip turned to her, “He needs to do that.”

“I know you do,” Mary rested her hand on his arm, “But I really don’t want to deal with mice.”

Rip chuckled before replying, “I can’t tell you, but I will suggest to Michael that he keeps any food he takes in proper containers.”

“I can accept that,” Mary smiled.

Sighing softly Rip whispered, “I need to leave soon.”

“You’re still recovering, dear one,” Mary rested her hand on his cheek, “I do not want to you to leave until I’m sure you’re healthy.”

“Mother,” Rip breathed, “The longer I’m here the more danger there is of a paradox. I have a place to go where I will be safe until I get my strength back completely.”

Grimacing, Mary finally nodded, “I want you to say goodbye to Michael and once you have, I will give him the amnesia pill.”

Leaning in Rip wrapped his arm around her whispering, “I love you, Mother.”

“I love you too, dear,” Mary hugged him.

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

 Michael finished his dinner relieved the day was over, it was another one filled with things he barely understood and the weight of what Time Master Druce expected from him. He wanted to check in on Hunter and maybe ask him some more questions. The man made him feel better about everything and Michael liked how well Hunter could read him. It made it easier that Michael didn’t really need to ask certain things.

“Here,” Miss Xavier passed him a mug of tea as he was about to leave the dining room, “Since you are going to speak to our guest no matter what I say, you may as well take him this.”

Nodding Michael carefully took the mug and made his way up to the room where Hunter was staying. Knocking he waited to be told to come in and smiled to see the man was sitting by the window and not on the bed.

“Are you feeling better?” Michael asked as he placed the mug on the desk.

Hunter nodded, “I am.”

“This means you’ll leave soon,” he took a seat on the bed.

“As much as I would like to,” Hunter told him, “I can’t stay here.”

Michael frowned.

“I’m not leaving you,” Hunter said softly, reading Michael’s mind again, “But I don’t belong here and if I stay then it will cause problems.”

Dropping his eyes, Michael whispered, “I’ll miss you.”

Hunter smiled, resting his hand on Michael’s shoulder, “I will miss you too, but I am very grateful to have had this time with you.”

They sat talking for several hours, Hunter listened to his worries and soothing them in a way no one else had managed to.

“When are you leaving?” Michael asked suddenly.

“In the morning,” Hunter told him, “But I can promise that you will see me again.”

 Rip hated seeing the sadness in his younger self’s eyes that he had to leave, but the longer he stayed here the more chance there was that he would change something or would be discovered by someone.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” his mother asked as they walked to the same place he had been dumped out of the timeline.

Rip nodded, “I am, and I’ll be fine, I promise you.”

Opening her arms to him, his mother hugged him tightly before whispering, “I want you to remember one thing, Michael. You are a good man, who I’m so proud of.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Rip murmured back softly.

“I have and always will love you.”

Rip smiled, “I love you too.”

It was gratifying to know how much his mother loved him, he remembered being so afraid of being sent away at first and wondering if he was able to live up to what they expected from him.

Letting him go Mary stepped back, and Michael ran forward wrapping his arms around Rip’s waist holding him tightly. For a moment, Rip was reminded of his son and the way Jonas would hold onto him. He knew that his mother would take the memory of Rip’s time here from Michael, and that was for the best, but Rip knew the help he had given his younger self would linger.

His mother rested her hand on Michael’s shoulder so he would let go, and they stepped back. Opening the portal to his base, Rip looked back at the home he once had and the boy he used to be, raising his hand goodbye, Rip closed the portal.

[certified-anakinfucker]

📓!

and for you, darling love, a summary of reasons why pava serko really needs a fucking break and also some coffee

once again, going under the cut because it's gonna get looooong

(and yes, the gif is marginally related to pava too - send me a book emoji and i'll tell you abt a storyline that i keep daydreaming!)

so, relating back to this post about jupso, pava was established as the older of his two padawans. born on mirial, brought to the temple when they were young, gifted with the vision of a seer.

much like jupso, they were herald to a very Important prophecy that held the fate of the very order of the force in its hands. they were shown the prophecy of the splintered force. and this prophecy included within it the coming of the chosen one.

(funny story about that - pava is a good eight years older than qui-gon jinn. they knew about the prophecy before jinn could fight properly. the fact that jinn bulldozed his way into the council to proclaim HE was the only one who believed in the prophecy really made pava want to shoot him, amongst a laundry list of other reasons.)

so, pava.. tries to work through this. their master is already struggling with his own prophecy of cataclysm, and pava holds onto every warning about the future grandmaster's danger; but much like jupso, they were blindsided by just how minutely the danger seeped into every crack.

starting with their finding of fae-blooded obi-wan kenobi on stewjon, alongside two mirialan "foundlings" iomara and neela ondri. they swore to the toddler's family that he would be safe and looked after, and that was a promise they intended to keep.

but pava couldn't fight the council. they practically had raised obi-wan until he was ready to take his padawan trials, but before they were able to put in an application to become kenobi's master - of course qui-gon swooped in and stole it. yoda's blessing and all. which.. held a number of red flags. 1) proximity to yoda's influence 2) literally just being too close to yoda for anything good to come of it 3) DOOKU'S LINEAGE COMING FROM YODA'S LINEAGE DAMNIT

pava had to cow out of it. and practically didn't see obi-wan again for fuck knows how long, because pava was a bit busy with the splintered force; first finding the infant chandrika banshara, who would later be known as the storm goddess of the outer rim (belonging to the lovely @pentothestars!) and making the hard decision of leaving the twi'lek child who had done everything to keep the infant alive (her name is sed'tiran and boy does she hold a grudge against jedi now), to having to watch their near-aged friend who was jupso's second padawan hacora kushiri be murdered (by mundi because hacora was too outspoken about her distrust of the beloved grandmaster.... fuck you, mundi) soon after her own padawan amira sayzeen was knighted, to having to raise chandrika's son who was taken from her by her blip-in-the-force master, to dying just months before obi-wan was able to return to the temple after qui-gon's death and the discovery of anakin on tatooine.

and yes, of course, pava is too fucking angry to stay gone. pava willed themself back as a force spirit because there was too much to be done. rumor has it that the reason qui-gon's spirit never returned to the temple after his death is because he knew pava would kick his shit in EXPEDITIOUSLY. and he's absolutely correct.

a nice little tidbit though, is that pava - as a force spirit - was able to strong-arm a new master for obi-wan upon his return. grandmaster windu knew right off the bat that obi-wan was going to THERAPY and wouldn't be anakin's master no matter what qui-gon's dying words were. and obi-wan got a very sweet master who is an incredibly supportive dad and does his best to help obi-wan with his trauma. thanks fuckface jinn

so pava is around for tcw, mostly checking in on chandrika + little beda when she calls for them, or hanging around the temple in the little mirialan sector. (ironically, hacora is at peace in the force. no one else is LOL) just trying to do their best where they can, and keep the splintered force beings ...... in one piece