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alltheirdamn · 5 months

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A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 2

Summary: Mando finds himself back on Tatooine... unable to let you go. Warnings: mentions of drugs, violence, death, weapons, language, Mando being an unusual softie Word count: 4k A/N: I know it's a slow burn... please stay with me; I promise it'll get better! Also, there will be no Grogu in this fic... babies tend to ruin all the fun lol

The Mandalorian didn’t know why he returned to Tatooine. He didn’t know why he had reset the navigation from Nevarro back to the damned desert planet, but he sat in the silence of the Razor Crest, plotting his arrival.

Every bounty was the same to him: a job.

Never had he been so handicapped by one until she fell into his lap as a puck for a high reward. She was unlike other bounties, though, not a criminal in the sense he was used to. Most bounties he was given were high-profile criminals, assassins, imperial sympathizers… but she wasn’t any of the above. From what Karga had told him, she was simply a runaway employee for a very wealthy man. And the Mandalorian didn’t ask questions. He never did.

The navigation panel flashed red, signaling the ship's deceleration as it neared the planet’s atmosphere. The Mandalorian took a deep breath, exhaling through the modulator and filling the dead air with his frustration. He wasn’t frustrated with her, but rather himself.

For letting a fucking bounty take up so much space in his mind.

When the Crest finally touched down on the dunes of Mos Eisley, the Mandalorian was already trudging down the docking ramp before it could fully open. He was well aware of the city's layout and knew exactly where to start looking for the bounties’ employer. Kesi Jissard was unfamiliar, yet Mando knew enough people in the crime ring to find him. He started the search in the lone cantina on the eastern edge of the city. The cantina stood without a name; the crowd within its walls spoke for itself. Though he was not on a hunt for anyone sleazing about inside the cantina, it didn’t mean there weren’t a few scared criminals. A few begged for the challenge; they begged to triumph over a Mandalorian. But none would come close to winning a victory over him– and they wouldn’t dare get close enough to try. With beady eyes following his every move, Mando approached the bar.

“Hey, shiny,” emerged a voice amidst the clamor around him. The Mandalorian turned slowly, hand resting on the blaster at his side.

Leaning against the bar counter was a Twi’Lek, their body hardly covered by their dance attire. They smiled, a grin far too deceiving for the innocence their body language spoke. He sized them up, considering the level of threat they could pose. Deciding the mildness of their demeanor, the Mandalorian’s hand slid away from his blaster– but close enough in reach if needed.

“I’m looking for information,” he was curt. The Twi’Lek smiled, bearing white teeth that flashed against their pale blue skin. Reaching over, they pet the fabric of his gloved hand, mischief lingering in their actions. Quick in response, the Mandalorian pulled his hand back, settling into a tense stance against the bar counter.

“Hmph,” the Twi-Lek frowned, “Information costs money around here, ya know?”

The Mandalorian sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling as his chest exhaled. Digging into the side of his pilot suit, the Mandalorian retrieved a small pouch of credits. Tossing them onto the counter, he waited for the Twi’Lek to speak again. After considering the credit amount, the Twi’Lek smiled, eyes scanning over the bounty hunter’s body.

“What’d you wanna know, hun?” They spoke in long drawls.

“Kesi Jissard, who is he?” He asked. There was a grit under his tone, one of desperation and impatience.

The Twi’Lek squirmed at the name, looking visibly uncomfortable. Their voice was a low hush, responding to the Mandalorian’s question.

“He’s a prominent spice trader on Tatooine,” they began. “He works directly for the Pyke’s, or so I’ve heard. He’s not someone you should go looking for.”

“Where is he?” He pushed.

Their eyes grew wide, staring around the bar that swarmed with more bodies. The Mandalorian knew who was and wasn’t watching, assuring himself that no one was interested in his business. They were all far too busy looking innocent in their booths and tables, hoping the bounty hunter would escort himself out of the cantina.

“I don’t know where he is,” they said, voice an octave higher than before. His body went rigid, hoping the bartenders wouldn’t interrupt their conversation. “But if I did know,” they continued, “He would be hiding in his junkyard on the town's southern border. It’s riddled with his employees, though. No one gets in there without an invitation.”

His helmet cocked to the side, a bit amused by them thinking he would need an invitation. His armor and weapons were an invitation in and of itself; it called for an audience. One that Kesi would provide.

“If you try to go in there, you’ll die,” the Twi’Lek grabbed his arm. The Mandalorian shifted his gaze to their tiny fingers wrapped around his bicep. It was a kind gesture, unnecessary to Mando, but a kind effort nonetheless.

Leaving the Crest on the east border of Eisley, the Mandalorian opted for one of the speeders found nicely parked outside the cantina. It didn’t concern him whose speeder he stole but just that it had enough speed to make it to the southern border before dusk fell over the horizon. As the dust kicked up behind him, the Mandalorian mentally cursed himself for letting this girl take up so much of his time. She wasn’t anything special, just another bounty– he tried to remind himself of these things. But even for a fucking bounty… she managed a way into his brain. Into his bloodstream. And it made him dangerous. He was willing to go to great lengths to ensure she was okay.

“Dank farrik,” he cursed, finally arriving at the junkyard.

The size of the junkyard wasn’t what he anticipated; the corners of it reached for miles. He switched on the zoom lens of his helmet, scanning the perimeter. He counted eight, maybe nine, men that were scattered across the grounds. He could see the ship hangar in the middle, part of the roof exposed to erosion. Switching out of the zoom lens, the Mandalorian turned to the thermal reader, hoping it would pick up on the familiar outline of the body that plagued his brain. He only had her in his possession for less than two days; why was she the only thing he could think about? And why did he feel so much rage when he finally saw the heat traces of her body, crowded by other silhouettes in red and yellow auras?

The rage turned his vision red, guiding his body blindly into the junkyard. His senses were heightened, eyes wildly aware of every pair of footsteps ingrained into the sand. Bodies radiated towards him as if his armor were a magnet for violence. Each attempt to kill him was returned with a downpour of shots from his blaster. The Mandalorian was a better shot and far more accurate than the employers of Kesi. They were subpar, and it was beyond him to understand how the Twi’Lek described this place as a death wish. Perhaps his anger was so strong nothing would stop him.

The odds were in his favor as he managed his way closer to the hanger, now finding himself at the entrance. It was an open space, the scattered remains of speeders and ships littering the floor. His helmet picked up thermal traces of bodies that began to swarm around the perimeter, his armor working against his efforts to stay hidden.

“Hey!” someone shouted, blaster fire softly following suit.

The Mandalorian ducked behind a stack of cargo crates, pulling his blaster from its holster. He remained level-headed, breathing even and cool as he emerged from the blockade and returned fire. His shots landed deep in the bodies of the spice traders that ran at him, their reaction time no match for his. His skill set and years of hunting created very little opportunity for being stopped; the Mandalorian was an enigma unbeknown to the world around him.

While blaster fire bounced off the chest plate that hugged his body, the Mandalorian continued forward, sending bodies rippling against the ground. Though the threats came less, he understood that his presence was becoming more well-known throughout the junkyard.

Managing his way into the hangar, two familiar bodies crowded the girl's body. He didn’t like them before— he especially didn’t like them now. Jado turned towards his looming figure, quickly drawing a knife from his waistband.

“You got what you wanted!” Jado yelled, allowing a large distance between himself and the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian could shoot him on the spot, and nothing stopped him from doing so, yet he enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the fear in a man’s eye as he tracked him down, the way their hands shook as they gripped their weapons.

“C’mon Mando,” Jado released a shaky excuse of a laugh, “Does this mean more to you than credits?”

Gaff held her head up, shaking it until it fell limp against her shoulder. Anger crawled up Mando’s spine, and his muscles tensed as he watched the way her body slumped aim the chair. She was more than unconscious; he knew that for sure. She was overdosing.

His brain disconnected from logic, sending dueling shots into Jado and Gaff’s heads. Their bodies careened back, and the sound of them falling was the only noise to register amid the chaos.

She was nearly lifeless in the chair she was bound to, her hands a pale purple as they twisted between the bindings.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hands working at releasing the ropes.

Her body tilted sideways, and he managed to catch her and yank her into his hold before she slipped onto the floor. Her eyes rolled slightly, the whites of them the only thing visible. Yes, Mando was scarcely afraid, but holding her limp body was fucking terrifying.

“C’mon,” he baited, hand tapping her cheek lightly. The only response was another roll of her eyes and the lull of her head falling to the opposite side. Maker, he thought, what fucking drug was this?

Knowing there was little time left to reverse the effects and any long-term damages, Mando pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest as he maneuvered the way out of the junkyard. He kept one arm grasping her and the other hovering over his blaster. He had yet to see Kesi again, and when he did, Kesi would be covered in blaster fire.

Mando silently swore to himself that he would hunt him down. He would kill Kesi in the slowest possible way, a small consequence for the crimes he committed— both throughout the galaxy and to her.

Her body weighed heavy in his arms as he pulled her off the speeder and up into the cargo hold of the Crest. Laying her on the metal floor, Mando searched for a pulse under her jaw. It was faint. Even through the gloves, he could feel its flutter pushing against her skin. A sigh of relief left the modulator as he searched the cargo hold for his med supplies. Working alone meant caring for himself, which led him to learn how to heal various injuries. Scouring through the various medical kits and devices, his hands landed on a stack of adrenaline patches— ones potent enough to shock her system awake.

Returning to her comatose body, Mando observed her face, noticing her lips changing from a pale pink to a pale blue. The oxygen was fading from her lungs, and her breathing became shallow and labored. He said her name over and over, hoping to elicit any response. Even as he pulled on her eyelids to check her eyes, there was nothing but white staring back at him.

Under the layers of armor and cloth undergarments, the Mandalorians' temperature rose until he was sweltering from stress. He was running out of time, and somewhere inside himself, he was mad. Mad that he ever took her bounty, mad that he ever handed her over, mad that he hadn’t turned around fast enough. She wasn’t a criminal; she was just a girl. He knew nothing of her, yet he knew she didn’t deserve the life she had surrendered to. And she surely didn’t deserve to die.

Taking out a blade from his weaponry belt, Mando began cutting away at her top, the sweat-stained fabric giving away easily at the tug of the sharp metal. He gave no attention to her exposed chest; mind focused on placing the adrenaline patches in the right spot. Peeling away at the adhesive, Mando placed one right above her heart, the other at the pulse on her neck. Connecting the patches to the pressure resuscitator, he inhaled sharply, pressing the button on the buzzing machine.

Her chest jolted upwards, the sound of the resuscitator whirring louder. There was no change in her body, her condition remaining the same. Mando’s breath grew shaky, pressing the resuscitator one more time. Again, her body jolted yet stayed still on the recoil downwards. He waited for her breathing to steady, and the waiting felt like an eternity. He peeled away the patches, their adhesive leaving a red rash on her skin. The leather of his gloves skated over the raised skin, feeling the warmth of her body returning slowly.

“Maker,” he sighed, falling back on his heels. He watched silently as she inhaled larger bouts of air, her chest rising higher with each.

She was going to be okay.

Mando stayed in the cargo hold beside her body for some time, waiting quietly for her to wake up. His mind reeled with various thoughts that were a mixture of guilt and anger. Never had he felt guilty about a bounty before; they all were just a sack of credits in his eyes. His job was to hunt; that’s all he ever knew. He had been trained as a foundling never to grow attachments and always to stay loyal to his Clan and Creed. And he had done everything right by the Way, going so far as never to show his face to anyone.

He had left behind his home and his parents, lost in the war against the Separatists. The last thing he could remember of his parents were their frightened faces as they hid him within a bomb shelter. It was so long ago now that he could scarcely remember what they looked like; flashes of his mother's face came and went in his memories. He knew nothing but the life of the Mandalorians after that, his world shifting into the lifestyle that his Clan taught him.

Mando had kept his focus on the guild for years, his life as a bounty hunter more important than anything else. He traveled the galaxy alone and enjoyed the company of himself. He rarely interacted with anyone other than his bounties and fellow guild members. But he was here now, anticipating when she would wake, eager to hear her voice again.

Hours went by without a glimpse of any sign of her waking, and Mando grew worrisome. Rechecking her pulse, he assured himself that she would be fine and that the overdose would wear off eventually. But he was anxious seeing her so still and quiet, and he wanted nothing more than to know she would be okay. He knew very little of the various spices that floated through the galaxy, but he knew enough to know that this spice was more lethal than any other. If at all, Mando didn’t even know a spice this potent existed. It wasn’t meant for recreation; it was meant for drugging. His mind spiraled with thoughts of what Kesi had planned to do with her while she existed helplessly on the high of this drug.

Mando shifted over her, swiping her hair from her forehead. He spoke her name softly, coaxing any reaction from her. There was a shift in her body, her head slightly falling to the side. His hand cradled her face, watching as her eyes fluttered open.

Her reaction was exactly as he imagined: abrupt and alarming. She scrambled from his touch, her body crawling back into a corner near the armory wall. Mando didn’t move, allowing her to reconnect with the world around her. Her breaths came out in loud pants, the oxygen intake too much for her after so many hours of shallow breathing. She said nothing, only watched him with bloodshot eyes.

“You’re okay,” the Mandalorian finally spoke. “You’re okay.”

“What the fuck did you do to me?” She demanded, her bare chest heaving. Mando forced his eyes away from her skin, steadying his gaze on hers. She was mortified and, most of all, angry.

“Calm down,” he urged. Idiot. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” She repeated. “Safe?”

Mando stood, giving her the space she needed. She tugged her torn shirt over her chest, the rashes from the adrenaline patches still prominent on her sweating skin. She was disheveled, but Mando couldn’t deny she was still beautiful. There was a ruggedness to her— a past that sculpted her tough exterior. Mando wanted to know more.

For the first time, he cared.

And he didn’t understand why.

“They drugged you,” he huffed.

Her bloodshot eyes tracked him upwards, and her mouth parted as if she wanted to make another jostled remark. But she remained silent, her chest still heaving as she regained oxygen to her lungs.

“You came back,” she whispered after several moments.

Mando only offered a brief nod, not trusting himself with words.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

He had no explanation for what he did; it was impulsive and so fucking stupid. But the need to protect her swelled inside himself the longer he lingered in her presence. He tilted his head towards the refresher, and her eyes followed.

“Refresher’s that way,” he said. “You can get yourself cleaned up.”

“Oh,” her lips formed a dangerous pout. Mando thought about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around—no.

He turned towards the ladder for the cockpit, too on edge to stare at her face longer. She had just about died from a spice overdose, and he was picturing all the ways she could come undone… maker, what a fucking idiot. His fists clenched at his sides before he ascended the ladder.

“Mando!” her voice carried through the silence.

He turned hesitantly.

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving me.”

Mando nodded and disappeared into the cockpit.

He had come back.

The Mandalorian had come back.

Any second later, and you would have been dead.

You didn’t know if you should be thankful or scared; what did he want from you now? You had begged him to keep you out of sheer fear of the outcome with Kesi’s men. But you had meant it, right? This was a better situation than death, but how long did you have? Mando had the credits, but you were still a bounty.

Your head was foggy as you stumbled towards the refresher, acutely aware of your shirt in tatters. Had Mando seen your breasts? Something inside your core stirred awake with that possibility, but you shoved it back into your mind. The refresher door hissed open, revealing a small space with only a toilet, a grimy mirror, and a shower. It was compact and clean, telling of how Mando lived his life. Everything had its place, and you feared ruining his lifestyle. What he wanted to do next with you… well, that was up to him.

All you could focus on now was taking a fucking shower and washing off all the dirt and sweat from your skin. The water ran cold at first, nipping at your skin as it pelted down in a steady rhythm. You kept to the corner of the refresher until it started to steam, and then finally, let the water run over your body. Swirls of brown coasted down the ceramic floor of the refresher, the day ridding itself into the drain. You dipped your hair back, letting the water soak you completely. But it wasn’t until your eyes drifted close that the memories started to invade your senses again.

Kesi’s dirty grin.

The taste of the spice.

Your erratic heartbeat and slipping consciousness.

Mando’s soft voice.

It all kept coming in waves until you found yourself slipping down onto the refresher floor, clinging to your body with fresh tears stinging your eyes. You may be free of Kesi—for now—but you weren’t free.

And you wondered if you had just traded one shitty life for another.

Time blurred as you continued to sit under the pelting spray of the refresher, your eyes boring into the white walls until the world around you faded into nothing. The water had long since run cold, and your body was riddled with goosebumps and wrinkles. But you felt paralyzed by nagging thoughts and memories; you really couldn’t muster the energy to move.

A sharp bang came from the other side of the door, forcing you to jolt against the tiled wall, slamming your elbow into the corner of the refresher.

“Fuck!” You hissed.

“Are you okay in there?” Mando’s voice was rough and oddly laced with a hint of concern.

“Yeah,” you called out. “Yeah, I’m fine. M’sorry, lost track of time.”

There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you couldn’t hear him speak over the sound of the water. Standing to shut it off, you wrapped your arms around your body and waited silently.

“Left some clothes outside the door for you,” he said. “I’ll be back in the cockpit.”

You waited for the sound of his heavy footsteps to move away from the door, and once you heard the snap of the cockpit door closing, you finally reached out to retrieve the clothes. An oversized sleep shirt and tight black pants were stacked together, and you wondered where in the hell Mando had gotten them from. They were your size, absolutely, but were they someone else’s?

The thought of another woman here with him left you irrationally jealous, even if you knew nothing about him. Why should you care about a bounty hunter?

But the bigger question… why did he care about you?

You shook away the thought and changed quickly, your body still sore in some areas. The mirror was still fogged from the shower, but you wiped away some condensation just to glance at yourself. Your skin was paler than normal, and a dark hue rimmed around your eyes.

You looked fucking terrible.

Smoothing down your hair, you finally exited the refresher, taking in the ship around you. The cargo hold was quiet, a few empty crates scattered around the floor. The interior was made of strong metal, and there was a distant whirring from the carbonite chamber. You shivered at the thought of being forced into it, the endless coldness that would wrap around you. At any point, the Mandalorian could still do that. You weren’t sure what he thought of you–a bounty, a burden, a person to discard.

Were you better off here than with Kesi?

Your mind drifted back once again to the junkyard on Tatooine. The feeling of his hands on your jaw, the wild look in his eyes–

“How’re you feeling?” A gruff voice came from behind you.

You jumped at Mando’s voice and turned to see him leaning against the ladder. You felt small in his presence, the dim light around you bouncing off his shiny beskar. His posture was lax, and he observed you silently as you shifted nervously.

“Better. Yeah, better. Thank you.”

He dipped his helm slowly, elongating the silence between you. You shifted again under his gaze, hands twisting in the sleep shirt that hung off your body.

“Good.”

“Um, Mando. Why–why did you come back?” You asked your eyes on the floor. “You had your reward.”

Mando shifted his body, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Again, there was a steady beat of silence between you as he watched you squirm under his gaze.

“I don’t know.”

It was all he offered. But it wasn’t enough.

“What happens now?” You asked.

“I have to meet with someone,” he explained. “You’ll stay here.”

He didn't give you time to respond before he retired to the cockpit, leaving you alone in the silence.

#mando #mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader

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mandos-mind-trick · 11 months

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BobaDin A/B/O Teaser

Read part 1 of the full fic here!!!

Summary: Boba and Din met before his fall into the Sarlacc pit, after Din was stranded during his heat with no suppressants. They parted ways after, both of them content to pretend it never happened, except that's not possible for Din. Boba tracks Din down, only to find he's in for a surprise when he meets the omega Mandalorian once more.

Pairing: Alpha Boba Fett x omega Din Djarin

Warnings: A/B/O universe, implied mpreg, Boba's kind of a softie in this part at least, very AU post Mando season 2, fluff and cuteness but also kind of sad, named child character cause plot.

A/N: I posted this a few months ago but took it down after it kinda flopped. There's been some renewed interest in it today so I've decided to repost it. There's a post on my page regarding the universe this exists in and some background. I was in a mindset when I wrote this and I am very sorry. Also kind of cuts off awkwardly at the end cause I just...stopped writing at that point.

@rosechi and those anons from earlier made me do it.

He holds her close, closer than he ever has. All the times he had left her, all the times he had been forced to leave on hunts was nothing compared to the last few days. She had been taken from him by someone who wouldn’t think twice about hurting her. He had been careless leaving two children alone like that. He had been thankful at first that she hadn’t just been killed. Perhaps Gideon had thought it would only hurt him more if he took both of them.

He had done what he promised he’d do. He had rescued both of them, and he had gotten Grogu back to his kind. Still, there is an ache in his chest, a hole forming as Grogu gets further and further away. As much as he wants to curl into himself, let his instincts take over, he has a pup to support. A distressed pup who had just lost a member of her aliit.

He sinks into one of the seats, holding her tight against his chest. He lets his helmet drop to the floor, uncaring if the other two in the ship come down and see him. He’s projecting his scent a bit, trying to calm his pup. It’s a bit dangerous with an alpha close by, but he can’t care. His pup needs him.

“Shh.” He shushes her, pressing her face against his neck.

“I m-miss him.” She cries, clinging to his cloak.

“I know.” He says. “Remember what we talked about? Grogu had to go back to his kind. To his own aliit.”

“But he’s our aliit.”

“Only for a little while, remember? Until we found where he belonged.”

She continues to cry and he can do nothing but let her. It pains him to scent her distress, but she needs to let it out. The best he could do is offer her comfort.

She cries herself to sleep, still clinging to him. He leans his head back, trying to process the last couple days. It felt like a fever dream. He had been so scared, so desperate to get them back, to make sure they were safe. He’s exhausted.

Boba climbs down the ladder a while later. Din had put his helmet back on, needing to feel secure. Needing to feel safe. The alpha sinks into the seat next to him, removing his helmet with a sigh.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing sideways at the pair.

“Upset.” Din answers.

Boba hums. “Losing a family member is never easy.” He looks at Din. “How are you?”

“I’ll manage.” He answers shortly.

Boba stares at him for a long moment. “What will you do now?”

Din sighs. He had been trying not to think about that. What is going to happen now? He’d finished what he had been tasked with. Did he go back to hunting? It would be hard with Vira. He didn’t want to start leaving her for long periods again. Not after spending so much time with her. His instincts screamed at the idea of being parted with her again. Did he try to track down a covert? Take his place among Mandalorians once more? “I don’t know.” He finally answers honestly. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Join us.” Boba says. “We’re going back to Tatooine. I’m going to take over Jabba’s palace, become Daimyo. Come with us. Let me spend some time with the pup I didn’t know existed.”

Right. This was his pup as well. He’s not sure how he could forget. She looked just like him. Perhaps because it was a bit unreal still.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Boba asks after a moment of silence.

“I tried looking for you after she was born. Everyone I found said you were dead.”

Boba leans back in his seat once again. “I almost was. I never thought...” He shakes his head. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have-”

“It’s alright. I’m not sure I would have made it had you not been there.” Din adjusts his hold on Vira, easing her into a more comfortable position. “I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

Boba stares at her, able to see her face from the new position. A small smirk forms on his face, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “Those Fett genes are strong.”

Din can’t help but smile under his helmet. “There’s no doubting it.”

Boba smiles. “I’m serious.” He lets his eyes flit to Din’s helmet. “Come with us. Let me take care of you. Both of you.”

Din leans his head back against the seat. Boba’s words strike something deep in him, all his repressed instincts flooding to the surface. He had been on his own for so long. Forcing himself on suppressants, holding every alpha he came across at arm’s length. He did it for himself, and he did it for Vira.

Was this his chance to take a load off his shoulders? To share in carrying that weight of his instincts and his pup? Fett had proven himself loyal and trustworthy over and over again. Vira was his pup. He could take her if he wanted, and force them apart. Din knows he won’t. Boba knows how much family means to Mandalorians. Boba was offering them a place of belonging, a home. He would care for his pup, and Din as the bearer of his pup.

Din doesn’t realize he’s crying, quiet gasps crackling through his modulator. Boba is crouched beside him, hand on the back of his neck. It’s not a cruel touch, it’s not a scruff like some alphas would do to control an omega. It’s comforting. Grounding.

“Let me help you.” He says softly, thumb stroking the column of his throat. The touch is jarring, after so long without any touch at all.

“I owe you so much already.” Din gasps out, the tears not stopping.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Boba says. “I would have helped you even if she wasn’t my pup. If you think you need to repay me, do it by coming with us.”

Din closes his eyes, letting himself just feel. He hadn’t been this close to an alpha in six years. He never thought he’d see Boba again, much less be working with him. He knows the restraint it must have taken for Boba not to march onto the cruiser and take out Moff Gideon himself to get his pup back. The pup he hadn’t known existed until just a couple days ago. He knew Din was the one who had to do it, was the one who had to protect his aliit.

Boba could be aliit too.

It would be so easy to let him in, to give over to instinct. He had been carrying the weight for so long. How nice it would be to let go for once.

*****

He wakes in a bunk. For a moment he forgets where he is, what had happened. He’s back on the Crest, tucked into his bunk, the place that had been his home for years. But the Crest was destroyed. He had been on Boba’s ship, heading wherever after he had rescued his ade.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, or even moving to the bunk. Boba’s scent floats around him, muted a bit by his helmet. He resists the urge to take off his helmet, bury himself in the scent. Instead he turns on his side, the blanket that had been tossed over him falling to the floor. Something feels off as he lays there in the silence.

Vira.

He sits up so fast his helmet hits the top bunk, but he ignores the vibrations rattling his head. He hits the button on the wall, light flooding the small space as he steps out, eyes searching the ship for his pup.

He doesn’t have to look long, finding Fennec standing in front of one of the viewports holding her. She’s staring out at the blue of hyperspace, eyes open wide and mouth agape. Din breathes a quiet sigh of relief, approaching the beta and his pup.

Vira turns to him, a big smile on her face. “Look, buir!” She points out the viewport.

He turns to look, eyes trailing over the giant creatures. “Purgil.” He says.

She stares at them in awe, Fennec eyeing him. “Don’t work yourself up.” She says. “She was getting squirmy. You need the rest.”

“I didn’t take you for the nurturing type.” He says.

The beta gives him a look. “I’m not.” But the way she looks down at Vira says otherwise.

“Will you be okay for a few more minutes?” He asks.

“I suppose.” Fennec says, motioning for him to go ahead.

Din climbs up the ladder to the cockpit, quietly sinking into the passenger seat. He stares out at the blue of hyperspace for a moment, watching it flash by.

“We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace near Tatooine shortly.” Boba says, his gaze facing forward as well.

“If I come with you, what exactly do you expect?” Din asks, trying to put his thoughts into words. He feels vulnerable in the presence of the alpha, even though Fett was nothing but relaxed.

“I’ll need your help.” Boba says honestly. “Taking Jabba’s seat will be easy. Getting Mos Espa to agree will be the hardest. There will be a lot of pushback, I expect, not just from the families. The Hutts will have their own opinions. I need muscle, someone to back me up.”

“It sounds dangerous.” Din muses.

“It will be, at least at first.” Boba agrees. “I wouldn’t blame you for saying no.”

“And Vira? I can’t afford to put her in more danger.”

Boba turns to face him, and though Din can’t see the look on his face, he can feel the change in the alpha. “I may not know her, but I promise I will give my life to protect her.”

“And me?” Din says quietly, his brain starting to buzz under the intensity of the alpha. “What do you expect from me?”

“Nothing.” Boba says, turning back around. “It would be your decision. If you want suppressants, I’ll be sure we have extra. You’re always welcome at my side, even if it’s nothing more than as an ally.”

******

Fett had been right. Taking Jabba’s palace had been easy. Despite Din’s insistence, Boba had forced him to stay on the ship with Vira as he and Fennec went in and cleaned house. Din is quietly grateful for the moment of rest. He feels weary, a type of weary he hasn’t felt in a long time. He could have forced himself to do it, but he can feel the exhaustion deep in his bones as he sits on the floor of the ship.

It’s the same weary he had felt when he had been stuck without his suppressants. The same weary he’d felt after he’d had Vira. The same weary he’d struggled with after he decided to leave her in the care of the covert and returned to bounty hunting.

He needs an alpha.

His omega yearns for an alpha.

He has an alpha.

Boba had been forward in his implications. He would take that position, if Din wanted it. It wasn’t that Din didn’t trust Boba. He owed a lot to the alpha. Boba had been the one that found him stranded without suppressants, half dead after being thrown into his first heat in years. Boba had cared for him, fought against every instinct telling him to sink his teeth into Din’s shoulder, and got him on a ship back to civilization.

He had also, inadvertently, given Din a pup.

Vira had been born not long after the fall of the Empire. Din had waited a year and a half before he began his search, traveling all the places the bounty hunter frequented. He heard the same thing over and over, that Boba was dead. Fell into a sarlacc pit on the very planet they were on currently. Din had given up his search not long after he started.

He knew he’d likely raise Vira by himself. If he had found Boba, he’s not sure what the bounty hunter’s reaction would have been. He could have taken Vira for himself, raised his pup as he had the right to do. Din had wrestled with that idea, but had ultimately decided to seek out the alpha, if nothing more than to just tell him he has a pup. He deserved to know. It was why he didn’t hide the truth from him on Tython.

He could have lied. He could have easily claimed Vira as someone else’s.

No, he couldn’t have, he thinks as he stares at the pup seated on the floor between his legs, pushing Grogu’s ball back and forth. He runs a hand over the unruly, thick curls that were messily pulled back into a bun. She looks up at him with those deep, dark eyes. She’s practically a carbon copy of Boba.

A clone.

She grins up at him, cheeks dimpling. That was his, or at least he thinks so. He’s never actually seen Boba smile.

Despite the grin, she looks tired. He knows she has to be, just looking at her. Fennec had been right, calling her squirmy. She’d always been wild, always been on the move. He’d constantly heard it when he returned to the covert. She’s smart, but she can’t sit still.

Normally she would have been all over the ship, exploring, getting into things. A chord of fear runs through him for a moment, something he hadn’t thought of in the whirlwind since they’d been taken. He knew the Empire needed Grogu for some sort of experiment they were doing.

What if they did something to her?

There wasn’t anything they could possibly need from her. Unless they tested something on her? He wouldn’t put it past Gideon to try and make him pay for taking Grogu not once, but twice.

He can’t fight it, the building anxiety deep in his stomach. He feels like he’s spiraling out of control, like a ship about to crash. Vira’s smile falls as she senses the distress welling in her bearer.

Din jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder. His fists close around the fabric of his pants, trying to steady himself. Boba is kneeling next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy.” Boba soothes him, gently squeezing his shoulder. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“What...what if Gideon did something to her?” He asks, looking down at Vira who is watching them cautiously.

“We can’t know for sure that he didn’t.” Boba says, turning to look at Vira. “How do you feel, ad’ika?”

She shrugs. “Okay. Sleepy.” She rubs her eyes.

“See,” Boba says, helping him stand. “She’s fine. You need rest. Both of you do.”

Din leans down, lifting Vira into his arms. Boba was probably right. They couldn’t know if Gideon did something to her. If it was anything of consequence, they’d have to wait and see if anything happens. He doesn’t want anything to happen. The thought of something happening to her because of his own recklessness has his stomach churning. He feels like he could be sick.

“Come on.” Boba leads him forward with a hand on his back. “We’ve cleared out the upper rooms. Most of it was empty. Seems like most of them fled when Jabba died. Fortuna managed to keep a skeleton crew. We’ve cleared out most of them.”

“I should be helping.” Din says, trying to distract himself from the panic building within him.

“You can help by resting.” Boba says, leading him up the steps. “Like I said, this is the easy part. I need you at your best when the real fight begins.”

**********

Despite his exhaustion, Din lays awake in bed. The sheets are clean, having been brought up by a droid, along with a clean change of clothes for Vira. She had fussed through a bath and dinner before Din let her sleep. The new clothes were a bit big, but they worked. He’d need to pick up some supplies soon. Everything he’d owned had been destroyed.

Din had taken a bath himself after Vira finally fell asleep. He was used to going long periods without being properly cleaned, but it felt nice to wash off the last few days. The worry still lingered, but in a way he felt like he could force it all down, forget the horrors that had gone through his mind.

His helmet sits on the ground behind him. He hadn’t been able to relax enough to take all his armor off. What if they had missed something? He can’t take that risk. Not right now. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to put the helmet back on. Not yet.

He scoots closer to Vira, letting the soft scent of pup invade his senses. He hadn’t done it often, not since he left her with the covert. He presses his nose into her hair, letting the gentle scent flow through him. It’s the best scent in the world, or at least he thinks so. The scent of a pup before they begin developing traits, before they present. So soothing it could loosen even the most steeled beta.

The scent calms the raging storm inside him. There’s nothing off about it, no change to it. It’s purely her, just as he remembered it being.

#star wars #star wars fic teaser #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din x boba #bobadin

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eatommo · 1 year

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Regalia [d.d]

cw: fully clothed vs naked, helmet comes off, PRIMAL PLAY, cat and mouse, themes of stalking, smidge of brat taming, praise kink, pinv, mando'a, unprotected sex, use of restraints, sensory deprivation, pussy eating (from the back), cream pie, Din is also a big softy but won't admit it per usual

a/n: Hello! This might be the nastiest thing I've written for Mr. Din can, I did get a Frank/Matt/Reader request that I am working on so if you see this anon I haven't forgotten about you I promise! As always like/reblog even feel free to message me! I don't bite I promise. This is also loosely inspired by some of my favorite authors who inspired me to come back to writing, and being this is a little over a one year anniversary for this blog I just want to say thank you to these @pastafossa @no-droids @absurdthirst @wardenparker (and many others in my near dead brain) lovely people who contribute so much to my life in so many ways <3

wc: A brief but nasty 2k

You don’t know if it’s his elevated tone or his body language, but you know that he is irritated. His shoulders are tight, and his posture is iron as you storm up to him, feet thundering and kicking up blizzards of snow with each step.

“Which one of you decided that the inside of the Cave was a good idea?” You pointedly speak at the wall of metal in front of you, knowing that he’s just as irritated as you are. “Because I will be lucky if I get out of here with the tip of my nose.”

“The kids' ears are turning grey.” He retorts body only growing stiffer as you retreat to the safety of the crest. “So don’t act like you’re the only one suffering.”

You glance down at the hovering pod, the baby sound asleep but his forehead scrunches as if deep in thought. You feel slightly guilty, you don’t know how good beskar is at keeping him warm but you’d imagine there’s a good chance Mando is uncomfortable as well. “Yeah, well maybe if you actually listened to me instead of insisting on finding a bounty that’s probably buried in permafrost.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you ask me to get you caf in a marketplace. Credits don’t come from hyperspace.” His tone is as biting as the wind. “I’m getting real sick of your attitude.” He turns his head real sharp, not a hitch in his strong pace, “How was I supposed to know the fob would lead us to the wrong place?”

You grit your teeth biting back an angry retort as you gaze into the blank slate of his visor, “Maybe you’re just losing your touch.” Putting on a false sense of acceptance in your voice is the best way to get under his skin, and for just a beat of your heart, your resolve falters as silence falls between you. Did you go too far? He’s the least deserving of this attitude, you know that.

“Okay, once we get off this hellscape I’ll show you just how good my touch is sweet girl.” His cadence immediately washes away the smirk on your face and kickstarts a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ve never seen so many trees. There are groves upon groves of thick-rooted trees that have practically slowed your head start to a literal crawl as you duck down into a crouch.

Even with a late start, he’s seemingly tracked you down in what feels like a matter of minutes. The unmistakable heavy steps crush leaves and debris as he snakes through the ravine, getting closer and closer as you do your best to stay quiet. Your breath comes quickly as if the atmosphere is thin. He’s instructed you to run, not to hide, but fear is creeping up your spine and you scramble to find purchase after the footsteps fade away.

There’s a brief moment of relief, as you approach a brook, hoping to use it to disguise your trail. You remove your clunky beat-up boots and step into the clear, surprisingly warm water. You take a few steps across the sandy bottom of the creek, the unusual feeling of wet sand between your toes grounding you at the moment with a smile and a small laugh.

The lack of cover doesn't even occur to you until it's too late, just a flash of silver in your peripheral and you're launching yourself downstream, soaking the thin fabric of your pants.

His footsteps grow louder until they sound like they're tearing down every tree in his path to get to you. You divert your path, deciding to truly make a final break for it, as you drop your shoes on the bank. You climb over roots that are taller than your hips and duck under any that you can fit beneath, but the further you get away from the water the more tangled and frequent the trees become.

Swearing under your breath, you find purchase on a branch, testing its strength before using it to help bolster your other leg over the root. The hair on your neck stands straight as a flash of red light shatters the branch you're using to support yourself, sending you back to the ground firmly. You feel the muzzle of Din’s blaster nuzzle into the small of your back.

“Easy.” Your breath is coming in pants, and your heart is racing out of your chest, does he expect you to fight? But again his voice runs down your spine, calm and his breathing even, “Do I have to restrain you? Or do you think you're ready to surrender?”

You chew on your lip, the longer you hesitate the harder the blaster digs into your back, and you begin to feel the weight of his body trap you to the root. The wood is surprisingly soft under your palms, “I yield.”

You feel the sound before you hear it, a great and deep rumbling in his chest of pure satisfaction, of possessiveness, like a vulptex guarding their catch. “Good.”

There's an increasing amount of pressure on your body, shoving you until you're practically bent in half over the wood and he’s pulling your hands behind your back. You feel the weight of something encapsulate your wrist and then the other before you can even protest your wrists are bound tightly together behind your back. You stammer in surprise “I said I yield.”

“I know, this is more for…” The vocoder cuts, and you wonder if he’s turned it off or even changed his mind before the next weighted words settle deep in your core, “leverage.”

Your body involuntarily shutters, fighting the urge to moan as he begins to strip you from your clothes. “This is what we were doing?” Confidence suddenly bolstered by the neediness in his movements, practically tearing your trousers down your legs. “I could’ve been naked this whole time.”

He’s practically growling over your shoulder, as he tosses his gloves onto the thick branch, “Next time.” He uses his knee to nudge your thighs apart and plants a hand on the wood next to your hip lining himself up, you wince in anticipation knowing the stretch will be painful.

Instead, you heard a curse, and his body’s warmth is gone for a moment, all you can listen to is metal on metal as he tears the rising phoenix from his back, and he takes the cape from his shoulders, and lays it on the wood beneath you in one fluid motion.

Kriff, in the heat of a chase and what's likely going to be the roughest fuck of your life, he’s still worried about the roughness of the wood on your soft skin. Under your breath, you mumble a quick “Thank you.” that he dismisses with a soft caress down your spine.

He feels the tension in your back beneath his palm, as frantic as the need to fuck you is and his normal urge to make it hurt just a little bit not waning, he is aware of just how big his cock is and decides to drag this whole charade to both of your wit's end. “Eyes shut for me C’yare.”

It’s usually unlike you to do as told, but there’s a cutting-edge of a promise in his tone as if he is trying to encourage you to comply for your own benefit. So you do, and in an even more unlikely turn of events, you hear the hiss of his helmet unlatching. Before your scrambled adrenaline-riddled body can even comprehend what's happening it is being lowered over your head. Barely cracking an eye open you realize your vision is null, there is nothing but black for your searching eyes to find.

Your heart beats away in your chest, and the thrill of being caught is now only amplified in a different sense. You begin to wonder why he decided to take this risk when he is usually so careful, so painstakingly stubborn, but then his hot tongue licks up the seam of your core. You curse, his stubble is rougher than usual, and it tickles the back of your thighs, as he tortuously licks into your slit, drinking up each bit of arousal he earns.

“You’re so beautiful for me.” He uses his fingers to separate your lips, displaying the flushed skin of your cunt to his visor-free eyes, “Mesh’la.” He plants a single lingering kiss on your clit, letting his nose nuzzle against your entrance teasingly.

Your knees buckle as you picture yourself laid out for him, pathetically draped over a root and grinding back on his face naked and desperate, while he is dressed in his full regalia, minus the helmet that he places so trustingly upon your head. Swallowing a whine, you start to rock your hips against his mouth in a silent plea for something, anything.

In contrast to his profession, he can be incredibly gentle, at least in the beginning. He suckles and licks at the supple skin of your pussy, coaxing pleasure out of your body with a languid accuracy.

The sudden change from running for your life to being walked to the edge of orgasm is enough to give you whiplash. “You’re doing so well for me.” You know he likely can’t see you but you nod anyway, the praise coming from right against your skin as if he can’t bear to leave your pussy for a breath. “Cum for me so I can take my prize,” Another lingering kiss, “Sweet girl.”

You continue to rock your hips against his face, and he nuzzles deeper sucking your clit into his mouth and shaking his head back and forth, gently but with haste you can feel vibrating through his own body. Your climax all but wrestles you to the ground, knees giving out as you practically sit back onto his face, riding the waves of the orgasm with shudders and cries.

Unable to stop himself he nips at the curve of your ass as he stands up, his cock heavy in the flight suit and weeping against his much cooler skin. You take the moment to try and catch your breath, chest heaving and body still vibrating more than you ever thought possible. The smell of him is surrounding you thanks to his cape, barely making it past the helmet's defenses.

He’s lined up at your entrance within a matter of moments, whatever patience and grace he’s shown you thus far is gone as he plunges his thick and painfully hard cock deep, striking up another fire in your belly.

The plates of beskar adorning his thighs dig into your skin, undoubtedly leaving bruises for him to apologize for later, but the pain only adds to the delicious resonating pleasure with each punishing thrust of his hips. You can hear the root of the tree creaking with his efforts, threatening to break with each slap of your bodies joining together. The pace is inhuman, he’s fucking into you like he wants you to lose the ability to walk, scrubbing so deliciously against that spot that makes you see stars. Then he remembers the cuffs.

One of his hands leaves your hips and wraps tight around the link joining your hands, he starts tugging you back onto his cock with each thrust, fucking deeper than you ever thought possible.

You start to clamp down around him, and as your body goes limp against him he growls, hunching down to bite on your shoulder. The cool shock of his chest plate mixed with the feeling of his teeth in your skin is enough to send you barreling over the edge.

The feeling of your pussy baring down on him draws that delicious tingle at the base of his spine up until his brain and his endless praise are scrambled with the white heat of his orgasm. His hips stutter a few more thrusts, as he pumps ropes of his hot cum deep inside your pussy.

He manages a loose fist against the log so that he may trail some kisses down your back and across your shoulders, it’s not often that he gets to have these moments with you, “Eyes closed again C’yare.”

In the afterglow of your orgasms, he gives you the most gentle and loving of kisses on your mouth, before he returns to being the iron-clad hunter you’ll never doubt again.

#din djarin x reader smut #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories

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sarcastic-sketches · 1 year

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I am once again being content floating in Rexwalker thoughts but did I ever mention how the entire Kitsune AU thing started because I envisioned them together post an O66 that happened differently, just looking after a boatload of kids. Because that’s basically where the whole thing was headed from the get go.

Both of them holding off on doing anything until after the War’s over - it motivates them, gives them something to look forward to, neither can be too reckless or they might not live to experience that together - but they sure do talk about their plans.

Only for Rex to find himself nestled away on some remote planet, hidden from the Empire with Anakin and their handful of force sensetive kids that got smuggled out of the Temple on Empire Day.

Rex, currently being the Big Spoon to Anakin’s Little Spoon one slow-start morning and taking stock of his situation like, huh, here we are.

Rex: You know when we talked about kids, I wasn’t expecting this many Anakin: Oh... You haven’t complained though Anakin: How many were you thinking of Rex: I dunno, one ... maybe two ... maybe a tubie from Kamino Rex: Not, y’know, twelve.

In fairness, two of those kiddies do actually end up being Anakin’s by blood but he’s bonded with all the others so much he can’t think of them as anything but his own too. Rex is just a softie with Mando genes that are singing at him to adopt.

#rexwalker #Anakin Skywalker #captain rex #star wars #the clone wars #star wars prequels #kitsune!anakin #not specifically though at this point it's more of a comfy vibe for any Rexwalker setting #I want to share my thoughts visually through art but lack the energy to draw. Can they not simply be willed into existance

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kaysfanficcorner · 1 year

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Out of This World Chapter 6:

Message In A Bottle

Author’s Note: Hey everyone!! Welcome to chapter 6. I genuinely hope you love this chapter as much as I do. I had so much fun writing it! We’re finally getting to the good stuff with these two! Please know that I took the liberty to make up some things about Nevarro for this chapter. This chapter was heavily inspired by the Strangers Like Me sequence in Tarzan from 1999, and I probably listened to it fifty times while writing this. Also if you haven’t figured it out already my take on Din is that he’s a sweet boy and a huge softy so be forewarned that it’s only going to get worse from here on out. If you’d like to join the taglist please let me know!

Summary: The Mandalorian and the Earthing spend a week on Nevarro enjoying their time together with the child.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of emotional abuse (in the past), mentions of thc use (in the past) , FLUFF, explicit sexual themes. This work of fiction is strictly 18+.

Music Inspiration:

Strangers Like Me - This song heavily inspired the themes of this chapter. Not referenced directly.

Head Over Heels - Directly mentioned

Moonage Daydream - Requested by @missbabyjay

Message In A Bottle - Directly referenced, themes inspired

I Saw the Light - This is the song that I envisioned at the very end of the chapter, not directly referenced

AO3

*****

“So I’ve been thinking,” you, the Earthling woman stuck in a galaxy on the other end of the vastly infinite universe, begin a conversation with your cosmic companion clad in Mandalorian beskar. You’re seated across from him at the very same restaurant where you had first sat across from each other and negotiated the terms of your sort-of employment upon his ship all those months ago.

Thinking about how nervous you felt around him that first time you’d met, compared to how comfortable you are in his presence now, brings a warm smile to your features as you bounce the kid in your lap. If someone had told you on that fateful Nevarro evening that you would be on the verge of completely falling for the guy by now, you’d have laughed in their faces. Sure, you had found him attractive in a weird way, but you’d expected it to start and end with that.

The fact that you’d almost slept with him only a few hours ago is hard to wrap your head around. It feels like that had been a dream. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin, goosebumps crawling up the back of your neck at the thought of how it’d felt to let him touch you so intimately. Idly, your free hand snakes up to your neck as you hold the little planet pendant he’d given you between your thumb and forefinger, letting the tiny thing run back and forth along the thin gold chain. Having him adorn you with jewelry was the highlight of that entire interaction.

Mando’s suddenly saying your name in his modulated voice as he waves a gloved hand in front of your face, and you snap out of the memory.

Laughing, you shake your head at him with a grin, “Shit, sorry. I got lost thinking about this morning.”

“Mm,” he responds, the way he hums letting you know that it’s been on his mind as well. Then he changes the subject back to what you’d started to say a moment go. “You said you’ve been thinking about something?” He urges you to finish your thought, head moving as he looks you over. You wonder if he’s raising an eyebrow at you, liking to think that he is.

“I want you to teach me how to be more like you,” you say plainly, eyeing him for a reaction.

“In what way?” Din asks skeptically.

A droid comes over and drops a bowl of unappetizing looking, half-alive food in front of the kid, who begins to slurp it up happily. You smile down at him before fixing your gaze back on the Mandalorian across from you, attempting to look serious. “To defend myself, to fight. I want to know how to protect myself without a blaster. I’d like to see if the warrior you think is inside me can find her way out.”

Mando stays quiet for a moment, watching the kid eat before he answers you. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, you reply, “Very much so. We’re only six years past the Galactic Civil War. Clearly I should know what I’m doing because that’s not going to be last last time any of us are in danger. And besides, I’d like to feel more like equals.”

Leaning forward, he drops his voice down low enough that only you and the kid can hear, “I don’t need you to fight like a Mandalorian for us to be equals, Cyar’ika.”

You roll your eyes a little, but a playful smirk pulls itself up the left side of your mouth. He’d told you back at the inn that cyar’ika is Mando’a for darling, so hearing him call you that in a public place is enough to make you feel giddy. Assuming that he’d said it in order to get his point across, you want to make sure that you get your own point across too.

“This isn’t for your benefit, Mando. It’s for mine. I genuinely want this.” Gaze serious, you long to reach across the table and touch his hand for further emphasis. The restaurant isn’t very crowded, but you abstain regardless.

He seems to mull this over for a moment, “If it is truly what you want, then will teach you how to fight like a Mandalorian. Training won’t be easy. It will take time and dedication.”

“I know I can do this, or rather, I want to prove to myself that I can do this. That I’m not just some weakling from a planet of humans that can barely make it to their own moon. I used to feel thankful that I was privileged enough to never know what fighting for my life felt like, but I think that my life was very small because I’ve never had to leave my comfort zone. I can’t shake this feeling that I was meant to be here, that there’s something out there in this galaxy for me. A bigger life, maybe. And besides, we’ve got all the time in the world,” you add with a little grin, “I’ll stay with you on the Space RV for as long as you’ll have me.”

Mando’s voice takes on a somber tone, “There is an open invitation for you to stay as long as you like. Even when the reason you joined me in the first place is no longer with us.”

He’s talking about the kid leaving, and your heart sinks at the thought of it. Eyes casting down to the child in your lap, your chest begins to ache. “So we’re really going through with that when we leave Nevarro again?”

Sighing, he nods once. “It is my duty.”

“I know, I just wish it didn’t have to be.”

“I know.”

Suddenly the seat beside you becomes occupied, and you look over to see Carasynthia Dune seated to your left. She looks between you and the Mandalorian and raises an eyebrow. “Why do you guys seem so miserable?”

Your eyes flick over to Din with a knowing glance, then back to Dune as you shake your head. “No reason. I guess we’re still pretty worn out.”

“Mando told me what happened. I know it’s hard, but for what it’s worth I’m proud of you,” she says, knocking into your shoulder with her own.

Odd as the sensation is, you’re thankful for her pride. It’s affirming to feel like you did the right thing, even if it was the morally comprising thing. “Thanks, Cara. Mando here was just agreeing to teach me how to fight properly. Hopefully next time something like that happens I’ll be more prepared.”

The Marshal looks over to the Mandalorian and then back to you with a little smirk. “Oh really? Well, while you’re here if you want any help from me I’d be glad to offer my services.”

Mando looks to you, “That’s not a bad idea. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve trained someone together.”

“And this is not as time-sensitive,” Cara adds.

You look between them with a raised brow, “Okay, that’s a story I expect to hear at some point. So when do we start?”

Cara shrugs, “I’m not busy today. Why not now?”

Once the child is finished eating, all parties involved vacate the restaurant and head for the outskirts of town. Nevarro really is growing into a city that could eventually be seen as a respectable place to settle down. It’s people are kind and polite, the physical structure of the town itself is growing more aesthetically appealing by the day. Greef Karga’s hard work seems to be paying off.

Eventually you realize that Cara is leading your group close to where you first fell from the sky when the black hole spat you out. You haven’t set foot here since the day it happened. Suddenly triggered by this realization, an odd feeling washes over you and you feel almost sick with anxiety thinking about the events which led to your arrival in this galaxy. What your family had put you through. How you had been wishing, praying to deities you don’t even believe in, for something to take you far away from everything bad in your life only to have it replaced with good.

An intrusive thought echoes through your fraught mind, and you imagine another black hole forcing itself open. Horrific black tentacles much like those in the Anzat’s dead face snake out of it’s abyss to catch hold of you and drag you back into it. Drag you back to your old life where you felt small, inadequate, and unloved.

Unthinking, you grab for Din’s hand and squeeze it. Shallow breathing starts to find you as you feel panic rising in your chest. You really don’t ever want to go back there, and it’s far more apparent to you now than it has been this entire time. Mando aside, the kid aside, and life in space aside, you know in your rapidly thumping heart that should you go back to Earth something in you would die forever.

Cara is a few paces up ahead walking beside the child, so Din squeezes your hand back and looks down to address you with a low voice full of concern, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, “She’s leading us close to where I landed when the black hole spit me out. It’s probably a five minute walk from here.”

“Does this frighten you?”

“A little,” you try to breathe slowly, “I don’t know why but I got scared that another one might snatch me up and send me back, and now my heart is so full of dread that I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t go back there, Mando. I fucking refuse.”

“It’s incredibly illogical that it would happen,” your Mandalorian tries to soothe.

“I know, but that’s how afraid I am to go back. I never told you what happened that day, did I?”

He looks ahead to Cara and the kid, then he shakes his head once and looks back over to you, “Only in so many words. The subject seems sensitive to you so I never pressed.”

You sigh, “I hate thinking about this, but I’d like you to understand why I feel this way.”

*****

Earth. 2023. Day of the Incident.

Blasting “Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears at nearly full volume, you’re screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs as you dance around in the driver seat of your blue Honda Civic at a stop light. The old girl has seen better days, with one speaker on the verge of death, a broken glove box, and no sun visor on the driver side of the windshield. It had just fallen off into your lap one day, as most things in this vehicle have just decided to give up on you mid drive. It’s a piece of shit, but it was the first car you bought as an adult so you love it regardless and fully intend to drive it into the ground before you eventually buy something else.

You’re having a great day. One of the better days you’ve had in recent memory. It’s been two months since Grandad was declared legally dead, and one month since the funeral you did not attend.

That being said, you decided to take a few days off from work and give yourself a mini stay at home vacation so you’ve been out enjoying yourself all day. Full of edibles and your favorite shitty mall cheese fries, you’d taken yourself out on a movie date. It’s been a while since you’d been to the theater, so you went for a double feature. A new horror movie that only kinda sucked, and the next installment of a stupid comedy series you’ve enjoyed since high school.

You feel more at ease as the lovely day goes on, and when it finally comes time to go back home you enjoy blaring your music so loud that you’re sure that this is the day the right speaker will finally give up on you. But you could care less. You’re actually enjoying yourself for once.

Then you pull into the driveway of your home, and all of the color drains from your face as your heart sinks into your feet.

Your Grandmother is here. With some guy you don’t recognize. Anger rises in your chest like a pot that’s about to boil over. She looks so polished on the surface. Immaculate hair and makeup, fine jewelry and clothing. But under the facade you know that there’s a heart of stone and a narcissistic personality just waiting to show themselves.

Gritting your teeth, you get out of the car and shake your head at the intruders. “Fuck off,” you say firmly, “I don’t want whatever it is your selling.”

Your Grandmother scowls at you, wrinkled face contorting into an ugly sneer. Her voice has a thick layer of fake sweetness to it, “That’s not very kind, sweetheart.”

You snort, “Oh, how silly of me. I forgot my manners. Fuck off, please.”

“I would watch how you speak to me, young woman. This is my lawyer, Mr. Burns. You wouldn’t want to do something that’ll get you into trouble. Again.” She looks so pleased with herself, and you wish there was a way you could deck her and get away with it.

Slamming the car door, you come to stand on the walkway that leads to the front door of your little rancher home. “Well I guess I should thank my lucky stars that you didn’t call the cops on me again. Oh, wait, I haven’t fucking done anything. Just like last time. You’re the one trespassing on my property. Maybe I should return the favor and give them a ring.”

“This is not your property,” she says with a smirk.

“Yes it is. He left it to me. You read the same will that I did.”

Your Grandmother looks to the lawyer. A sniveling little man with a bald spot and glasses, he adjusts said spectacles and looks at you with an awkward facial expression.

Mr. Burns clears his throat, “Upon researching the legal documents surrounding this property, I found a discrepancy. Your grandmother was never removed from the deed because your grandfather missed a page upon signing the document, so therefore her removal is not valid. You’re welcome to find legal representation and fight my firm on this matter in court, but your grandmother is still a homeowner and you are not.”

“That’s… No. That’s fucking impossible. Leave me alone, get out of my life.”

“Filthy-mouthed Godless brat,” the old woman sneers at you, making you want to curl up into yourself like a little kid again. She’s had this effect on you for most of your life and it’s infuriating that she can still make you feel so small and worthless.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask in a tiny voice, angry at yourself for cracking under the pressure of her evil gaze.

“Because I intend to take what’s mine. Perhaps if you had not betrayed your family we could have made some kind of arrangement, but that ship has sailed.”

“I love that I stood up for myself and tried to call you all out for abusing me and I ‘betrayed’ you. You’re a fucking psycho. All of you are dead to me.”

The crone looks almost hurt for a moment, and then her face becomes sour again. She’s never looked more ugly to you. “You have until this time tomorrow to get out. If you’re still here when I come back, I’ll be calling the police. You can leave your keys under the mat. Don’t try to keep them, I’ll be changing the locks when the house goes up on the market so it won’t do you any good.”

Dread fills your heart, eyes tearing up. You refuse to let yourself cry in front of her, to give her any satisfaction. “I can’t move all of my things out in a day. I have nowhere to go.”

She waves you off as if what you said is irrelevant. “I guess you’ll have to figure that out. I’ll have the rest of your belongings put in the garage and you can come get them at your leisure. If they are still there when I’m ready to sell the house I’m giving it all to a thrift store. Enjoy your last night here, sweetie.”

And with that, the horrible woman who you will no longer think of as your grandmother and the lawyer leave. You’re left standing in your front yard with your heart ripped from your chest. As soon as their vehicles are gone, you drop down to your knees and begin to sob.

Shakily, you pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and begin typing out frantic text messages to any of the friends you think might let you crash on their couches for a few days.

Your entire world is crumbling down around you, and you sincerely want to die for a few minutes.

Then you suddenly realize that dying would only give your family the satisfaction of knowing they won, so you pull yourself up from the grass and rush over to let yourself in. You don’t know how, but you’re going to find a way to fight for this house. It means too much to you. You can’t just give up.

Upon entering the house a new wave of anxiety and sadness floods your system, but you try to keep a level head as best as you can. Jupiter comes to greet you, and you pat her on the head with a shaky hand.

“We’ve got to take a little trip, homegirl. This is going to suck for a while but it’s going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.” You say down to her, reassuring yourself more than her.

She meows in response, so you nod. Before jumping to crazy conclusions, you need to see these legal documents for yourself and confirm that what you’ve been told is true. There’s a chance that some of this was your grandmother bluffing. But first things first, you need to charge your phone and pack a bag in case this threat is real and your grandmother isn’t just trying to scare you into leaving.

So you plug your phone into the charger in the kitchen and scramble around the house with your huge purple pet carrier backpack, frantically throwing in random items you think you’re going to need. Clothes, the iPad and it’s charger, and for some reason you throw nail polish in. Some of the items you pack don’t make sense, but you’re riddled with anxiety and it’s keeping your scattered mind from thinking straight.

Then you go down to the basement, Jupiter in tow. This is where your grandfather’s very seventy’s looking office is located, and aside from cleaning it you’ve left everything in it’s proper place and barely touched anything in the five years he’s been gone. The hope that he’d return one day never once leaving your heart.

The room is covered in yellow shag carpet and wood paneling on the walls. Your grandfather’s scientific triumphs are on display all other the room, either hung up or on display beside his library of books. A telescope almost as long as you are tall is set up on a tripod facing the one small window.

Sitting down at the large wooden desk, you begin rifling around through drawers to see if there’s anything related to the house you can find. Most of it is scientific paperwork that makes absolutely no sense to you, so you slam a frustrated palm down on the mahogany surface.

You have no idea what you did, but a compartment opens up and a little metal prong with what looks like a repurposed GoPro camera pops out of the desk. Blinking at it, you whisper to yourself, “What the fuck…?”

To which a robotic voice responds, “Voice recognition accepted. Beginning facial recognition scan.” A little red light like a laser pointer shines in your face from the prong, and the voice comes back with, “Facial recognition accepted. Beginning fingerprint recognition scan.”

And then the coster beside your grandfathers cigar ashtray lights up, and you’re so dumbfounded that you just stare at it.

“No fingerprint found. Re-initiating scan.”

“Shit,” you mumble, sticking your right index finger down onto the glowing pad.

“Fingerprint recognition accepted. Welcome,” the robotic voice greets you by name and your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.

The carpeted floor below the desk slides open to reveal a hatch leading straight down. Jumping down to your hands and knees, you try the wheel on the door and with some effort you’re able to pull it open. A thin tunnel with a ladder leading straight down into darkness is what greets you on the other side. Waving a hand down in the hole, you trigger the motion activated lights and watch as the tunnel illuminates itself for you. It looks to go about fifteen or twenty feet down.

“This has got to be a dream,” you mumble. Jupiter comes over to sniff around at the hole, so you scoop her up in one arm. “I’m not going down there alone, little miss.”

With Jupiter inside of her area of the backpack and the large thing strapped to your back, you carefully position yourself at the top of the ladder and begin a slow descent. It takes a moment, but your feet finally touch solid ground again and you’re suddenly standing in what is clearly a large laboratory. It’s so big that you know it has to run under some of the neighbors’ houses as well as your own.

“So you had a secret lab and you never told me?” You ask yourself, addressing the father figure who is obviously not there. All of this is so incredibly hard for you to process.

It smells like a hospital, and the walls are all a clinical white. Equipment that you can’t even begin to wrap your head around is all over the room. It all looks like something out of Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi classic “2001: A Space Odyssey”, which was your grandfather’s favorite movie of all time. You wonder if the design is intentional. There isn’t a single window or obvious other entrance. The hole you came down in is likely the only way in or out.

Which is why you begin to panic when it suddenly shuts and locks itself.

“Shit, no no no.” You put your backpack down and scramble back up the ladder, shoving on the door. After trying to find some way to open it and failing, you figure that there’s got to be some sort of control for it down in the lab, so you climb back down.

Jupiter’s part of the backpack wasn’t completely zipped, and the cat has wiggled her way free by the time your sneaker covered feet touch the floor again. When you look over to see her walking around on some of the equipment and it begins to light up and make noise, you curse again and run after her with the backpack.

“Hey, stop that. I have no idea what this shit does and I don’t need you turning things on.” You nearly grab her but she jumps from one machine to anther, landing on ever more buttons and knocking a leaver into the opposite direction.

Then the room begins to shake as a circular pad on the floor glows. The cat jumps on a few more buttons and then comes to land on the eerily glowing floor. Rushing to her, you scoop her up in your arms, fighting her as she tries to escape your grasp.

“Would you sit still? You might have really fucked us over on this one, Jupiter.”

A loud noise takes over your senses, your body tingling all over. You realize that you suddenly can’t move, everything becoming incredibly bright as you scream. After that everything fades to black completely.

*****

Nevarro. Present Day.

You look at Din as you finish telling him the story, feeling vulnerable and tired after reliving such a horrible memory. His body language seems on edge for a moment.

Then he stops walking to pull you into a hug. His voice is laced with animosity, “Those people are not your family. A clan should treat it’s members with respect and admiration.”

“I’ve known that for a long time, Mando,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him. “I’m glad they aren’t in my life anymore. I don’t want a family like that.” You can’t help but think that the family you do want is literally holding you, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“Not to interrupt,” Cara’s voice breaks your train of thought, “but we’re here.”

Looking around, you notice that she’s brought you to what looks like a little arena. Volcanic rock surrounding it, there’s a large and nearly perfect circular section of flat surface. The area is very secluded, far enough away from town that it’ll serve as a great practice ring.

“We‘ll be right behind you,” Mando says, and Cara takes the hint enough to walk away with the kid in tow.

You and Din break apart from each other, Din keeping a hand on your shoulder as he looks down at you. It’s not often that you wish to see him without his helmet, but this is one of those instances. “So now you know why I don’t want to go home,” you say with misty eyes, “why I can’t stand the thought of it. There’s literally nothing for me there.”

Din responds by leaning his head down to gently bump foreheads with you in a Mandalorian kiss. His head lingers there for a moment. “This can be your home,” he whispers.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” you counter, looking right into the visor.

“I mean it,” Din breathes. He lifts up, motioning for you to follow as he begins making his way over to where Cara is waiting for the two of you. Then he laughs a little and looks back over his shoulder at you, “That cat is not allowed in the cockpit by herself anymore. I don’t need her jumping us to the other end of the galaxy.”

You laugh as well, “I try not to let her up there unless she’s supervised.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I find her sleeping up there and you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Butthead,” you poke your tongue out at him, grinning when he makes a noise of feigned offense.

Joining Cara and the kid, you look between both of your warrior friends and clap your hands together. “Alright guys, what are we going to start with? Punching? Kicking?”

Din and Cara look at each other and nod, then back to you. Cara smirks, “Hold your banthas, you’ve got to learn how to dodge an oncoming attack before you can even think about attacking first.”

“Blocking and dodging are essential,” Din agrees with a nod.

You can’t help but groan.

*****

“I can’t feel my legs, you’re gonna have to carry me back.”

Din watches you throw a dramatic hand to your head, leaning back against a rock as you pretend to pass out. The short, purple hair upon your head is nearly soaked through, laying in damp little clumps on your forehead. The impractical Earth shirt that you’d been wearing the first time Din ever saw you is equally soaked through, clinging to your form. He’s never seen you strain your body with exercise in the way he did today, and how hard you pushed yourself only serves to make you more lovely to him.

Cara is already back in town, having been called away on marshal business, so its just the three of you out here as the sun begins to set. The sky is turning a lovely shade of violet above each of your heads.

Din comes to squat down in front of you, shaking his helmeted head, “It hasn’t even been one day.”

Opening one eye to look at him, you grin widely, “I was just being silly. To be fair you guys did make me squat more than I’ve ever squatted in my entire life. My thighs are on fire. And my arm hurts where she punched me.”

You’d taken a few of Cara’s hits before getting the hang of blocking them, but none of it had discouraged you. In fact, it only seemed to egg you on harder.

“I told you this wouldn’t be easy,” he replies with a playful tone.

You throw him a pointed look, “I don’t want this to be easy. I’m trying to challenge the expectations I have for myself.”

Under the beskar Din is smiling very warmly at you, “I’m teasing. You did very well today, Cyar’ika.”

“Thanks,” you groan a little as you stretch your legs out straight, “I can’t wait until we move on from blocking and dodging. This sucks.”

“Soon enough,” Din agrees. He looks over to the pram where the kid is out cold, smile faltering for a moment. Taking the kid to his own kind has been on his mind all day, and he wants to avoid it for as long as he possibly can. An incredibly irresponsible idea strikes him, and he looks back to you with hopeful eyes in spite of the fact that you cannot see them. “I was going to suggest we leave Nevarro in another day or so, but perhaps we should extend our stay for a little longer. I can’t train you as well on the ship as I can here. There isn’t enough room.”

Your brow reaches up towards your hairline, following his gaze to the pram and then back to him. “Isn’t that going to interfere with things?”

Din shakes his head, “It shouldn’t. A week won’t be that much of a delay. We might as well make the most of our time here while we have it.”

You seem pleased with his suggestion, a beautiful little smile playing at your lips. “I’ll have to make runs to the ship to go check on the cat, but I’m not opposed to staying for a little longer.”

Standing, Din holds both of his gloved hands out to you. You take each one of his appendages in your own, letting him gently pull you up from the ground. Once you’re standing to full height again he pulls you the rest of the way into him, wrapping his arms around you. Din leans his head onto your shoulder with a sigh, eyes slipping closed as he breathes in your scent.

“None of this is easy for me,” his voice is barely a whisper.

Din feels you begin to rub circles into his lower back with your left hand, cradling his metal covered head onto you with your right. “You mean us? Whatever this is between us?” You ask quietly into his neck, sounding faintly afraid.

He shakes his head on you, “You. The kid. I’m not used to caring for other people this much.”

Mumbling into his shoulder, your voice is full of mixed emotions, “What about the other Mandalorians from your covert?”

“That’s… different,” he says, “It’s tied to a sense of duty. With you, there’s no duty involved. I just want this. I want you. And with the kid, it started as a sense of duty but now it’s grown into something else entirely.”

“It sounds to me like you love him, Din. Like any good parent loves their child.”

“But I have to do what’s right, what’s best for him.”

You pull back enough to look at him again, but you don’t break the embrace. “No offense, but who are we to decide what’s best for him?”

Din’s head tilts down, gaze somber behind the visor. “When he meets his own kind, it will be up to him to decide. This is The Way.”

“Maybe one day I’ll truly understand what that means,” you say with a small laugh.

“One day,” Din repeats almost dreamily.

Dislodging yourself from his arms, you take a step back and yawn. “So I don’t know about you, but I could really use a shower and another night of sleep in that big comfy bed.”

Din nods, modulator hissing a little as he responds, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Nightfall comes rapidly on Nevarro thanks to it’s orbital path, so by the time the three of you reach the inn it’s incredibly dark out already. Luckily reptavians don’t fly this early, so Din isn’t worried about catching one’s eye. The kid stays asleep the entire time, curled up in a little blanket inside of the closed pram as it floats beside Din to the left. You walk beside him on the right, and he worries that he’s pushed you too hard as he watches you struggle to take full steps by the end of the short journey.

“Make sure you stretch,” Din says as you’re entering the rented room, “Those muscles are going to feel even worse tomorrow.”

“I was already planning on it,” you reply with a groan, throwing your bag down on the bed to dig out a change of dress. “But first, I need to get these damp clothes off and feel clean again. Can I go first?” Gesturing towards the fresher, you jab a thumb in its general direction.

“Of course,” Din agrees, enjoying the look of happiness that crosses your features.

“Thanks, I’ll be out soon.” And with that, you’re shutting yourself into the small space. Din can hear the water running on the other side of the door.

Din stands there for a moment, just staring at the fresher door. He knows exactly what he wants to do next, but he’s unsure if its the right thing to do. To Hell with it, his own voice eventually whispers inside his head. He begins to strip himself of all armor and heavy clothing, placing it on the desk as he had the night before. Once he’s down to just a shirt and pants, he double checks that the child is indeed sleeping deeply inside of the pram and ensures that the pod is shut again when he’s done surveying his foundling. Hopefully the kid will just stay asleep for the remainder of the night, but just incase he won’t Din needs to execute his plan as quickly as possible.

He moves to the fresher door, knocking lightly.

“It’s unlocked if you need something,” your voice filters through from the other side.

And so Din enters the fresher, closing the door behind him. He chooses not to speak as he looks at the frosted shower door, the silhouette of your naked body on the other side filling him with a warmth that he once thought to be dormant inside him. It’s not even a clear view of you, but damn are you stunning.

The shower itself is roomier than the narrow thing back on the Razor Crest, with the rest of the fresher being of a much nicer quality as well. Half the time Din just uses the sonic while back on the ship, simply because it’s less of a hassle. This room, however, was intended for people to luxuriate themselves. The one on the Crest was intended to get the job done.

“Hello?” You eventually call out, voice puzzled.

It’s now or never, so he begins to remove his pants and undergarments followed by his shirt. The mirror is already fogging up considerably, but he catches a glimpse of himself in its hazy reflection and admires his physique for a moment. Nude save for the beskar upon his head, he sincerely hopes that this next move is going to go over well with you.

Din’s hand grabs for the shower door handle, gently sliding the thing open. He doesn’t look at you yet, though. He feels as if he should be granted permission first.

You squeak out his name again in a questioning tone, voice sounding genuinely surprised.

“I was hoping I could join you,” he says quietly, his own voice low as his eyes continue to cast downward and away from you. All he can see is your feet.

Din begins to worry that he’s overstepped his bounds when you don’t answer right away, but then he feels a wet hand wrap around his wrist and he’s suddenly being yanked forward.

“I would love for you to join me,” the tone of your voice is so lovely in this moment that Din’s chest swells at the sound of it.

He looks at you then, breath hitching in his throat as his eyes soak up every inch of your gorgeous body. Hot water bounces off of your supple skin, some of it running in miniature streams down your thighs. He follows the trail all the way up to the lovely patch of hair between your legs, then up past your hips and bellybutton to the exquisite breasts. What really sends Din over the edge, is the fact that you’re still wearing the necklace he gave you on the slim neck he wishes he could sink his teeth into.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes. Then he realizes that you’ve been doing the same exact thing, admiring his naked body for the first time with hungry eyes.

“Fucking perfect,” you breathe back, and finish pulling him all the way into the shower.

Din slides the door shut behind him, moving into the hot water with sharp hiss. “You really like to burn, don’t you?” He chuckles.

You giggle a little, wet hair falling in your face as you look up him. “What can I say? I love hot showers. Is the helmet going to fog up on you?”

His hands find your hips, gripping slightly. “No, its designed to withstand most conditions. I can see just fine.”

“Mm,” you hum, mimicking the sound he often makes when he doesn’t have much to say at first. “What about washing your face? Or your hair?”

He shrugs, “When you’re finished I’ll just stay in a little longer.” You seem to look a little uncomfortable for a moment, so Din brings a hand up to move some of the hair from your eyes. “What is it?”

“I don’t really want the first time we have sex to be in a shower.”

“That was not my intention,” hidden, Din can’t help but smile fondly at you, “I just wanted to be close to you.”

“Well in that case,” you shuffle forward a little, pressing your bare body to his as you snake your arms around his neck.

Din has no idea how long the two of you are in there together, but in his mind it mind it goes on for hours. Hands all over as you wash one another, slowly scouring fleshy new terrain. Examining each other’s forms with almost scientific interest, each of you treating the other like some sort of glorious discovery. Lips on his chest for the first time over a decade. There is so much physical touch that Din nearly gets dizzy from it at one point. His entire body tingles with sensations he’s not sure he’s ever felt, bright sparks constantly cascading throughout his nerve endings. He inevitably grows hard from it at one point, but neither of you bother to address it.

Eventually you declare that you’re ready to get out and go to bed, so you rise up on the balls of your feet to peck the side of his helmet, and suddenly Din is completely by himself in the water. You dry off and throw on some fresh clothes, and once you’re completely gone from the fresher Din slides the helmet from his head. He sets it on the counter just outside of the shower, finishing up with the quick routine of cleansing himself.

Once he’s done and standing in front of the fogged mirror, he wipes away at the cool surface in order to see his reflection. Din is sure he’s never looked this relaxed.

When he enters back into the room, clothed and helmeted once again, he finds you already curled up in the bed under the blanket.

Yawning, you gesture over to the kid’s pod, “Let’s keep the kid in the pram tonight. There’s no point in moving him if he’s comfortable.”

“Fair point,” Din agrees, killing the lights before coming to join you.

It’s not pitch black, so the two of you can still faintly see each other, Din more so than you with the helmet’s technology. You roll onto your side facing towards him, and he lays down facing towards you.

“I just realized something and I’m a little embarrassed,” you whisper shyly.

“What?” Din asks.

Giggling, you cover your eyes with one hand but splay your fingers out so that you can still look at him. “How old are you?”

Din quietly laughs, “Have we never talked about this?”

“I guess not.”

“How old do you think I am?”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, head in your hand, you squint at him for a long moment. “Forty-seven.”

“Thanks, I’m glad that I seem old.” Below the beskar Din is grinning at you cheekily.

“Hey! I was just guessing! You’re kinda rugged, so I figured you were way older than me,” you squint at him even harder, “Are you older than me?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “Yes, but not by that much. I’m thirty-eight.”

“Okay, so eight years older than me. Hmm what else haven’t I found out about yet?” Looking him up and down, your squinting eyes suddenly widen. “Oh shit! Your hair! Is it dark or light? My guess is dark based off of your body hair.”

“Mhm, dark. It’s brown. Somewhat curly.”

“Facial hair?”

He nods, “A little bit. I like to at least keep a mustache and some on my chin. I look… odd without a mustache.”

You scoff, “I thought you said you don’t have a problem with the way you look.”

“I don’t. I said I look odd, not bad.”

“Okay that’s fair. What about your eyes? I’m going to guess green.”

He shakes his head, smiling. Din adores the fact that you’re this enamored with him. “Brown.”

You close your eyes for a long moment, a content smile of your own crossing your features. “I’m trying to imagine you. Do you have any scars or anything like that? Missing half an eyebrow on one side?”

“Not really. I have both eyebrows. My nose is normal, if not a little big.”

“Well now I’m convinced that I’m right, you’ve got to be handsome in there.” You gently tap the beskar with one finger.

Din’s face becomes serious, unbeknownst to you, so his voice changes to match the seriousness on his face as he gestures towards his head, “I’m... grateful that you find me attractive with this on.”

You seem shocked by this, “Are you kidding? That thing is downright sexy. I can’t explain it, there’s just something about it. Maybe it’s how you wear it. The fact that you can just turn your head and say nothing but it completely changes the tone of a conversation. Your personality still manages to shine through the physical barrier. You know how to express yourself without anyone being able to see your real facial expressions.”

Din shrugs, “I had to learn how to do that.”

“I actually worry that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “is weird for you because I’m not a Mandalorian and I don’t wear one of those.”

Looking you over, Din decides to admit the thing he’s never spoken out loud to another person before, “I’m not proud of this, but I’ve never been able to see another mandalorian in the way that you see me. The helmet is not alluring to me.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you say quietly, frowning, “you are allowed to be attracted to whoever or whatever you want. Unless… oh shit, is this actually forbidden or something? Are we breaking some sort of sacred Mandalorian rule?”

Din shakes his head, “No. A Mandalorian is not required to take another Mandalorian as a mate. A bond is all that is required for a connection between two individuals to be considered valid.”

You grin, eyebrows shooting up, “So are we each other’s mate?”

Din had almost said the word “lover” a moment ago, it had been on the very tip of his tongue. Afraid that it would be the wrong thing to say, he’d instead gone with “mate” and now that you’ve jokingly pointed it out he feels incredibly awkward for his choice of wording. This is why he never used to talk unless he had to. In an attempt to recover he says, “Only if you want to be.”

“I think I could be cool with that.”

He’s confused by your odd turn of phrase, but he can tell that you meant it in a positive way. Scooting towards him, you spin yourself around and press your backside up against Din’s front. He instinctively curls his legs up to catch yours, wrapping one arm around you as he pulls you in close.

You both fall asleep in less time than it usually takes, comfort and contentment aiding two weary souls in finding rest.

*****

As the week goes on, you find yourself spending every day out by the lava fields of Nevarro learning hand to hand combat from your Mandalorian. Sometimes Cara joins your group, sometimes its just you, Din, and the kid.

On the second day, you force Din to do yoga with you so you can stretch out the tight leg muscles from the day before. It’s hilarious to see him do some of the poses, being that he insists on leaving all of his armor on. He’s covered in beskar attempting to do “happy baby”, and you really have to hold in your laughter because you don’t want him to think you’re picking on him. The kid joins in too, following your movements with much more ease than his father figure.

“A happy baby would never lay like this,” Din huffs, rocking as he struggles to keep hold of his booted feet. He finally gives up and lets his legs fall back down to the ground, rolling over to jab a finger towards his green foundling who is rolling around on his tiny back with his legs in the air. “I’ve certainly never seen him do that and he’s happy most of the time.”

Laughing, you sit up and shake your head at him. “It’s just a dumb name for it, it’s not supposed to be hyper-realistic.”

Later, after learning how to get out of a chokehold from behind, you take a break to do some art with the kid. It’s the first time you’ve broken out the set of supplies that Din bought on Nar Shaddaa, and the kid has a blast with it. At one point while you’re drawing flowers and animals on your board, the kid is drawling little scribbles on his own. Din’s seated beside you holding the kid in his lap, watching his foundling draw with interest.

When the kid turns around and holds up his work of art with a string of babbles, Din makes an odd little noise. It sounds choked, and it instantly grabs your attention.

“Wow, buddy. Is that us?” He sounds amazed as he lovingly pats him on the head, “Great job, kid.”

“Let me see, Green Bean.” You lean over to look at the kid’s art board, and your mouth drops open. To a stranger it would barely pass for a comprehensible picture, looking like three heaps of multicolored scribbles. But you can clearly see that the three scribbles are supposed to be Din, the kid, and yourself. The child’s green and tan form with big ears poking out is nestled between a back and purple scribble with extra purple on top, and a brown and silver scribble with a wiggly black T shape over the silver circle meant to be the head. The two big scribbles look to be holding hands above the green scribble’s head, long janky shapes meant to be arms touching each other at the ends.

Tears fill your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion for this little child. You lean forward with your eyes closed and press a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his small hand lift up to touch your neck. An image crosses your mind then, one of the Mandalorian and yourself raising the child as your own, and you have to force yourself not to get lost in it. After this little vacation the plan is still to find where he belongs and take him there, and your heart is already cracked in two at the mere thought of it.

“Great job, little dude,” you say with a grin when you sit up to look down at him again, “You’re such a good kid. You know that, right?”

“You really are,” Din agrees, scooping the kid up in his gloved hands as he lays down on his back, “The best kid in the galaxy.” He holds the green child up in the air, pretending that the little guy is a tiny starship as Din makes all kinds of mouth noises to simulate the act of flying. It’s hands down the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen Din do.

It is in that moment that your heart swells to the point of being painful and you realize how much you love these two people. What they truly mean to you. Din had said that you should all make the most of this respite on Nevarro, and so you intend to enjoy this time with the three of you all together as much as you can. Soaking in every second of it is your new priority for the next couple of days.

*****

On the third day, you finally get to see what the kid’s powers are really like when he uses them to tear Cara off of you. She has you in a pretty good chokehold, wanting to see what Din had taught you the day before, but she actually chokes you to hard for a moment and the kid does not respond well to seeing you unable to breathe. Cara suddenly goes flying back a few feet, landing on her ass. You cough and sputter, catching your breath again.

“Really?!” Dune glares at the kid, “This force crap again? I am not trying to hurt her.”

“Easy,” Din says, stepping in front f the kid’s pram. “He’s protective of us, and I didn’t like the way you were choking her either.”

Cara rolls her eyes, “She’s going to have to learn what the real thing feels like if she’s going to have any hope of defending herself.”

“Cara’s not wrong,” you say, rubbing at your neck. You move over to where the kid is looking up at you with concern in his big eyes, throwing a thumbs up his way. “I’m okay, Green Bean. Promise.”

“Fine,” Mando grunts, helping Cara up from the ground. “You and I should spar a little to show her what correct form looks like.”

“You’re on,” Cara agrees with a smirk.

You take a seat on a rock next to the kid’s pram, watching as the two warriors square up to fight each other. You really do try your best to keep an eye on both of them and take mental notes, but watching the Mandalorian move with so much ease as he dips and dodges from Cara’s oncoming attacks is so distracting. Every move, every tiny gesture, makes your head swim and your core heat up. He’s mesmerizing to watch, quickly spinning himself behind Cara’s back and pulling her into a chokehold. Cara breaks free, dropping down and spinning to push both hands into Din’s stomach. He grunts, taking a step back to steady himself.

“So that’s how it should look, but remember that how it feels is equally important... Are you listening?”

It takes you a moment to realize that Din is talking and you quickly try to recover, but Cara laughs at you and speaks first. “She’s got stars in her eyes, Mando.”

“I was paying attention, I swear!”

*****

This continues on for the rest of the week. You learn more in those few days than you thought possible in such a short amount of time, but you’re well aware that you’ll have a lot more to learn before you’re anywhere close to Din’s level of skill or Cara’s.

It’s the final day of your Nevarro vacation, as you’ve been calling it, and you find yourself seated at the city’s one restaurant again for breakfast. You’ve got the kid in your lap as you both eat, with Cara seated across from you. Din’s back at the inn eating his breakfast in private, so the two of you are enjoying a little girl time before he comes back.

You take a sip of caf, sighing into the cup as you look at Cara with mixed emotions. “Is it bad that I don’t want to leave? This week has been great.”

Cara shakes her head, “No, but I know Mando is still hung up on finding out where the kid belongs.”

“It’s his duty,” you reply flatly, “I have to respect that even if I don’t really agree with it.”

“So what’s going on with you two, anyway?” Cara’s question is surrounded by a bite of her food.

“I mean, I guess we’re a thing?” You shrug, “I’m trying to take this one day at a time.”

“So have you,” she looks down at the kid with a scrunched expression, “you know?”

“No. Almost, but no.” You sigh into your mug of caf again, eyeing her carefully as you consider what you want to say next. “I think I love him, Cara.”

It feels incredibly bizarre to say it out loud, despite having felt it and thought it for days.

“I thought that was obvious,” she says, grinning a little.

Rolling your eyes, you groan, “Why do I want to throw things at you when we have these conversations?”

“Because I’m right. And because I can see that you’re still spending too much time over thinking everything.” Your first friend in this galaxy’s face suddenly becomes serious as she sits her bowl of food down on the table, looking right into your eyes. “Listen, I lived through a pretty awful war and I’ve seen a lot of horrible shit in my day. I’ve lost a lot of people who I’ve cared for. The rebellion fought for freedom so that people could worry about things like love, and not when the Empire was going to show up and ruin their lives at a moments notice. Take it from someone who waited too long and missed their chance. This life is too short not to get what you want out of it.”

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod at her and extend gratitude for her little dose of wisdom. “Thanks, Cara. You’re a good friend.”

“You’re welcome.”

The kid makes a mess of his brown robe, so you sit him on the table to clean him off and that’s when you notice how crowded the restaurant is. It hasn’t been this crowded all week. Not once.

“What’s the all the hullabaloo about today?” Cara seems confused by your choice of wording so you laugh, “Why’s it so busy today? Is something going on?”

“Oh,” Dune says, “It’s a holiday.”

“How have I been here all week and not known this?”

She shrugs, “Beats me. Twice a year there’s an atmospheric anomaly that causes what the locals call a ‘light show’ at sundown. Nevarro holds a bi-annual festival in its honor, the ‘Festival of Lights.’ One in the warm part of the year to represent rebirth and life, and one in the cold part of the year to honor death. We’re coming up on the colder season, so today is the latter.”

You can’t help but grin, “That’s so cool. My favorite holiday back on Earth was all about honoring death, and it also marked the beginning of the cold season. It’s kind of lost it’s original meaning at this point though. So what’s this ‘light show’ look like?”

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself when the sun sets.”

Holding the kid below each armpit, you bounce him on the table top a little as you imagine him dressed in an Earth Halloween costume. “On Earth we dressed up as various creatures on Halloween as part of the celebration. Maybe I should find you a little witch hat, kiddo.”

*****

After finishing his morning meal, Din sets out on the streets of Nevarro to meet you and the child at the restaurant and is shocked to see the city streets so full of life. There are vendors setting up small tables of goods to be sold, street performers preparing for their acts, and most people are dressed in pinks and purples which match the banners decorating the street lights.

“Mando!” Greef Karga’s boisterous voice interrupts his train of thought, and Din looks to his left to see the man himself approaching. “I’m glad you’re here. Today is going to be a very special day for Nevarro!”

“I didn't realize it was already that time of the year,” Din remarks, having been present for more than a few of the bi-annual light shows. It’s beauty is certainty a sight to behold, and he’s suddenly very excited at the prospect of you and the kid getting to see it for yourselves.

Karga nods, grinning. “This year is going to be different. We’ve gone all out, spared no expense. And I’ll be making a speech in regards to Nevarro’s future as a respectable planet. The outer rim doesn’t have to be all outlaws and old Empire outposts. As of today I will no longer be a part of The Guild, and all trade here is to be done respectfully and legally.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Din agrees, continuing in the direction of the restaurant with Karga in tow.

“I hear you’re planning to leave tomorrow,” the older man says.

“I still have a mission to accomplish,” Din responds.

Karga stops and holds out his hand, Din takes it and the two men shake. “Well, please know that there is always a place for you and yours here if you ever wish to stay.”

“Thank you, Greef.”

Karga breaks off to mingle with more of the locals, and Din makes the rest of his way to the restaurant.

Upon entering, he sees you and stops for a moment. Your back is to him, and you’re holding the child to stand on top of the table at which you’re seated. Cara is seated across from you, laughing, and you lean forward to touch noses with the kid as he also laughs and grabs at your purple hair.

The sight of it warms him, and when he realizes that this will be the last day of pretending that things aren’t about to get very uncomfortable in regards to the child, a chill cuts through that feeling of warmth. Little pangs of pain jab him in the heart, but he remembers his creed and takes a deep breath to steady himself. Painful as it may be, This is The Way.

“Mando, how in the hell did you not tell me that today is a holiday?” You say as he approaches the table.

Din grabs the kid from you, holding him to his chest as he shrugs. “I didn’t think about it until this morning.”

Looking up at him, your eyes are hopeful. “Well what’s the plan for today? I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”

“The spot we’ve been using for training would be great for a secluded view of the lights,” Cara interjects, smirking at you for reasons unbeknownst to Din.

You grin at Cara then up at Din, “Well what if we poke around the festival for a little bit and then go out there to watch it? I think my body could use a rest day anyway.”

“That would be agreeable,” Din’s lips are tugging up into a grin of his own beneath the beskar. If he can, he just wants to make the two of you happy for this one day. He looks down at his foundling, “What do you think about it, pal?”

The kid makes a noise of agreement, smiling, and Din feels himself becoming misty eyed.

“I guess it’s settled then,” you agree, standing to join him.

The three of you spend the better part of the day roaming through the festivities, watching performers do odd tricks, eating street food that Din saves for when he’ll have a private moment to eat again. Mostly the group just enjoys the celebration of life, soaking up the energy that this gives off. There are small sections scattered throughout the city devoted to mourning the dead, and Din thinks of his fallen comrades as the group moves past them. He’s sure you’re thinking of your grandfather, watching your facial expressions change as you stop to admire one of the shrines.

At one point a woman drapes a pinkish-purple fabric over your head and says something to you in her native tongue before bowing her own head at you and walking off.

“What was that?” You ask up to Din once out of earshot, and he gestures around.

“The colors represent the colors of the atmospheric anomaly. It is seen as good luck to wear the colors on this day, that it will bring prosperity to your life. Just a superstition among the locals. She wished you a long and happy life, and for your fallen loved ones to have found peace in the afterlife.” Din smiles down at you, hidden as always.

“It’s amazing how many languages you can speak,” you remark, eyeing him with admiration.

“We should continue your education in Mando’a,” he replies.

With a little wink, you bump your hip into his slightly. “I would love that, ner burc’ya.”

“Cyar’ika,” Din replies lowly enough for only you to hear, wishing for privacy so that he would feel comfortable enough to reach out and touch you. Nights have been full of nothing but touching while on Nevarro, and Din finds himself slowly becoming addicted to it.

Random children stop to greet you here and there. Some remark that they miss your presence at the school or ask about Jupiter, while others simply grace you a quick hug before running off to re-join their families. Din can tell that this touches you, and you look so incredibly soft to him in those moments.

When a stand selling plush toy versions of lava meerkats catches the kid’s eye, the pram floats over to the stand and the kid begins reaching for one with grabby little hands. One begins to lift up and float towards him, and Din has to quickly snatch it out of the air.

Grinning up at Din, you gesture towards the child with a loving expression. “Aw, look at that he wants a toy!” Din just stares at you so you begin to pout, “Oh come on don’t be a party pooper. Let’s get it for him.”

“It’s overpriced.”

“So is everything here today.”

Seeing how much the child wants it, and thinking back to his thoughts earlier of wanting to make the both of you happy today, Din conforms with a sigh. He pays for the toy and hands it over to the child, who hugs it so happily that Din suddenly doesn’t care about how much it had cost.

After listening to Greef Karga’s speech about the future of Nevarro, you look to Din and motion with your head that you’d like to get out of the crowd. He feels similarly, and so the three of you exit the city to make your way out to the rocky fields where you’ve been spent the last several days.

“Sunset will be soon, so I figured it was a good time to get out of there. Plus it was getting a little too crowded,” you say once the party arrives, sitting your things down on a rock.

“Agreed,” Din says, setting the child down to play with his new lava meerkat. He immediately starts chasing after some sort of insect with it so Din calls after him, “Stay close, kid.”

The two of you take a seat beside one another and you pull out the personal device from your bag, setting it up to charge in what’s left of the sunlight. Din looks down at it, suddenly feeling like he wants to understand more about the culture you were raised in.

“Why do humans put so much emphasis on music where you’re from?” He asks, watching you for a reaction.

You look at him and smile, “Music is one of the many ways us Earthlings express ourselves artistically. It can move people on an emotional level. You can have a terrible day, and then dancing and singing along to your favorite song can make you forget why your day was bad at all. As for the people who make the music, it can be a form of dealing with something that’s going on in their lives. One person can write songs about falling in love, another can write about something sad that happened to them. It’s all about how you feel in the moment. Even music without words can spark an emotional reaction, which is why we use music to amplify the emotional moments in films. On a personal level, music has helped me get through tough times and other times its simply been a source of joy.”

“Mm,” Din responds, unsure of what else to say.

“What about your culture? Are there Mandalorian songs?”

“Yes, mostly war songs about the glory of our ancestors in battle.”

You grin, laying back to look up at the sky with your hands behind your head. “I’d be interested to hear what that sounds like.”

Din sits there for a moment, keeping an eye on the kid while he mulls over the impulse he’s feeling. Maker its been so long since he’d done this, but you’ve become the person he trusts most and he knows that you would treat his decision with respect.

And so he begins to sing. At first the sound of it is so foreign to him that he’s not sure if he’s got the pitch right, but the ancient words flow out him as he chants the old war song. This one was always his favorite as a foundling, and getting to share it with you strikes a chord within his heart.

You’re sitting up again, staring at him in awe when he finishes. He’s avoided looking at you through all of it, but now he’s meeting your gaze through the beskar with a new sense of confidence after seeing your reaction.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” a little smile plays at your lips as you shove at his shoulder with one hand.

“It’s nothing special,” Din counters.

You roll your eyes, “Yes, it is. You just shared a Mandalorian war song with me, and you sang it beautifully. That’s special, Din.”

The kid waddles over to the two of you with his new toy, climbing up into Din’s lap as he stares at him with an equally awestruck expression.

“See? He agrees,” you laugh a little.

“Play me one of your favorite songs,” Din lightly commands, tone soft.

“Hmm,” you seem to ponder something for a moment, before grabbing the iPad and clicking around on it. “Aha, this is a good one. You know that shirt with the guy on it that I love so much?” Din nods, so you continue, “He’s a musician named David Bowie, and he was huge deal on Earth. This song is one of my favorites because it’s space themed. It’s called ‘Moonage Daydream.’”

Din leans his head back, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he listens to the odd music. It’s pleasant, even though the lyrics make absolutely no sense to him. You begin to hum along to it at one point and eventually you’re singing along to the words. He feels the kid leave his lap at one point, prying an eye open to see you dancing around with the foundling in your arms.

The song changes over, and Din stands up to join you. “I’ve heard this one before, you play it quite a bit on the ship.”

You look bashful for half a second, sitting the kid back down on the ground. He continues dancing with his meerkat. “Yeah this one felt relevant when I first got stuck here. It’s called ‘Message in a Bottle’ by a group called The Police. The lyrics are heavily metaphorical, but its about being stranded on an island after a shipwreck and feeling incredibly alone.”

“I can see how that would have resonated with you,” Din remarks, head tilting down.

“Yeah, but now it feels like someone found my bottle and I’m not alone anymore.” You look up at him through thick lashes, and Din wishes for a split second that he could kiss you the real way.

Instead, he touches his forehead to yours to kiss you in the Mandalorian way. “Let the music play for a while.”

As the three of you wait for the sun to finish setting, something that is rapidly approaching, your Earth music cycles through a few more songs. Each one is vastly different from the next, and its a marvel to Din Djarin that a simple planet creates so much variety.

Then, just as the light show is about to begin, a song with a slower rhythm and lyrics that are clearly meant to be romantic starts playing. Without a second thought, Din grabs your arm and pulls you to him. He starts to gently sway his hips back and forth, guiding you to do the same in tandem with his movements as he dances with you.

In the pram floating next to you both, the child is already looking up at the sky with a mesmerized expression. You’re still staring at Din, so he puts a hand to your chin to gently point your face upwards.

“Watch the sky, Cyar’ika.”

Din’s seen the pink and purple swirls of light in Nevarro’s atmosphere many times, so his own eyes do not leave yours as he watches the spectacle in the reflection there. Your face lights up, both literally with pink hues, and figuratively as your mouth falls open into a wide smile. Your eyes shine, and Din never stops gently dancing with you.

“Mesh’la,” you breathe, never taking your eyes off of the natural display of beauty above your head.

*****

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@luc-k-y | @theslytherinwriter | @somewereinthegalaxi | @leithatnight | @missbabyjay

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sirowsky · 2 years

Text

Grogu's Gift

Day 5, and I'm excited about this one because it's been ages since I did a Mandalorian story!

This is a little hurt/comfort story with Din x female reader, obviously featuring Grogu as well. Warnings include injuries, blood, and some angst, but it's mostly sweet, really.

Word Count: 1900 Author’s Masterlist Birthday Stories

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He stood in the closed doorway to the Crest, his chest heaving underneath the armour, anger spilling from him in heated waves that saturated the very air around him until it seemed like it might explode. He had his back to you, and you didn’t think he’d noticed that you were awake yet. You weren’t sure if you should let him know or if he needed to work through something first, it was hard to make out the more subtle details of his body-language when he was angry.

But then his head dropped forwards, and his right hand connected to the doorway with a loud bang. He was standing on a precipice, it seemed, and you needed him not to fall into the darkness below.

“M-Mando…”

Your voice was weak, your throat hoarse from all the screaming, so the one word barely made it out, but he heard it. He turned and came to your side, his movements stiff with how hard he was trying to stay controlled, trying not to do anything rash. It scared you, but not in the sense that you thought he might do something to you, but because you feared that his rage was born from grief. That you’d failed to protect his kid.

“G-gu?”

It was as much as you could squeeze out, trepidation making your throat close up even worse as you waited, watched his reaction without daring to breathe.

“Safe.”

His voice was harsh, despite the good news, tainting your overwhelming relief with confusion. Because if the kid was safe, then what was he so angry about? You couldn’t coerce your throat into letting you say anything else, but your puzzled expression was apparently enough for him to figure out what you were asking. Still, he just stood there and stared at you for a long moment before he answered.

“You’re not.”

You blinked, and your mind went blank for a second. This… all this anger was… for you? Why? You were just a stray he’d picked up along the way, offered to help because you’d protected his boy when the imps had tried to take him and Mando had been unable to reach him. You’d been living and working on your brother’s farm, losing both your home and job when he’d unexpectedly died, and been unable to find new employment. You’d been living on the streets for a year when the fight had broken out right in front of you.

Those streets were tough, and you’d been beaten and spat at more than once while you trudged along, begging for scraps to keep from starving. And the imps were the worst when it came to degrading people. So, when you’d seen the kid about to get snatched, you hadn’t hesitated to ruin their day, putting yourself in terrible danger in the process. The bounty hunter had asked you to hold on to the kid while he covered your back so that the three of you could escape, and once back on his ship, you hadn’t asked if he wanted you to step out before he took off, and he hadn’t told you to.

That was months ago now, and you weren’t sure when exactly, or even if, you’d been invited to tag along, but somehow, you’d just sort of remained the third wheel of this odd little family as they navigated the universe in search of the Jedi. Still… you’d never gotten the impression that it was more than just a favour in return for saving the kid. Mando was a good person and seeing him with the boy was adorable, he turned into such a softie with that green little nugget. But he rarely even spoke to you.

You didn’t mind, though, he was kind enough just making sure you got to eat properly and even got you a coat so the ship wouldn’t be so cold for you when they travelled between planets. You’d just been waiting for the day when he’d tell you that he couldn’t accommodate you anymore, and you wouldn’t hold it against him, he’d done so much for you already. But now he was suddenly fuming because you’d gotten hurt, for once again protecting his kid entirely without him asking you to, leaving you struggling to make sense of what you thought you knew about him.

You still couldn’t speak, and with the pressure that had settled over your chest with the sudden uncertainties that surrounded you, you felt like you were choking. Trying to sit up to help your lungs function better proved to be a terrible mistake, when the wounds across your abdomen and left side screamed in protest, forcing your eyes closed with the sudden burn of tears.

“I’m sorry… I don’t have any bacta-spray left. You need to stay still.”

His voice was softer now, pained and still full of pent-up anger, but there was a tremor in there too, that gave away warmer emotions. Care. You wanted to thank him for that, for caring at all what happened to you, because no one else would. If only your throat would open up and your wounds would stop stinging so badly that you couldn’t see him clearly, no matter how many times you blinked.

You squirmed involuntarily as your muscles cramped up with the pain that kept rolling through you, and felt his hands try to steady or soothe you, coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Hey, you need to try and relax… I know it’s hard but the more you move the more it’ll hurt.”

You couldn’t even though you tried. Your arms and legs had begun to tremble with fatigue and no matter how much you wanted to keep looking at him, your eyes were pinched shut while images of gunfire and Mando frantically trying to stop your bleeding, played over and over inside your head. His hands gripped you tighter and you heard him say something, but you were already slipping away into blissful darkness, and couldn’t hear what it was.

<><><><><>

Stay with me… please.

You couldn’t hear it, but he said it again anyway. He was in awe of you, every day, but that day more than ever before, because you never hesitated. It wasn’t your kid, and you didn’t have any obligations to either of them, you didn’t even owe them anything, and yet you repeatedly protected them with your life. With no armour, no weapons, no training or experience with fighting. You just acted.

Maybe it was because they were all you’d had for some time now, after losing your only remaining family, or maybe you did feel indebted somehow, just because he didn’t drop you off at the first opportunity. He couldn’t say for certain, because he didn’t talk to you as he should have. He didn’t ask the questions that rattled around in his head, no matter how much he wanted to, and he wasn’t really sure why that was.

But the anger, more than anything, clarified his affection towards you, far too loud now to ever be ignored again. He needed to learn to talk to you, somehow. To tell you how much it warmed his heart when you played with the boy, kept him happy and entertained the way Din just didn’t know how to do. First, though, he needed to keep you alive, and if you didn’t start improving soon, he wouldn’t be able to.

He checked your wounds now that you were passed out and wouldn’t feel it, and gritted his teeth at the sight. A string of curses fell over his lips, but under his breath, because it was worse than he’d thought, or hoped. This wouldn’t heal on its own. He had to get his hands on some spray, or he was gonna lose you. Or they’d both lose you.

As if on cue, the kid poked his head out of the bunk, cooing unhappily, clearly understanding that what was happening to you was really bad. He wanted to comfort the boy, but what could he say? In that moment, there wasn’t much hope, and he wouldn’t lie to him. A deep sigh pushed up through his chest as he wrestled with himself. He could leave, head back into town and try and find more spray, but he’d be leaving the kid alone in what was apparently hostile territory, never mind putting a target on his own back. And if something happened to him, Grogu would be stuck on the Crest, alone with what would soon be a corpse.

The anger had begun to fade, and in its wake, there was a crushing despair, a terrible fear of loss and loneliness, now that he had unwittingly rediscovered what it was to not be alone. To have. He left your side, stepping over to the bunk where the kid waited with perked up ears. They slowly dropped as he realized how heavy his father’s steps were, how a cloud of doom hung over him, threatening to blow away the softness that the child had awoken in him, with the darkness of hate, anger and fear.

He picked the little one up, cradled him to his chest while he turned and slumped against the edge of the bunk, his eyes still trained on you, looking for something… Hope, perhaps. The child cooed again, pointing at you, and there was a question in his eyes.

“It’s… not good, kid.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, if he’d even interpreted the question right, but he really didn’t know what else to say. How do you explain to a toddler that one of his few friends in the universe, one of just a handful of people that he can trust at all, is dying? After a while, he sat down on a crate by your side, while the boy climbed up onto the makeshift bed to cuddle into your undamaged side, and at some point, Din fell asleep, exhausted by the terrible things to come out of this day.

A low thud woke him with a start, and he was on his feet and scanning the ship for a threat within a single heartbeat. But he stilled when he saw the little one on the floor, and quickly picked him up, only to find him unresponsive, but thankfully breathing deeply.

“Hey, kid, what happened? Grogu…?”

He was passed out, but it couldn’t be from the fall, it wasn’t more than four feet, he’d managed much worse without a single bruise before. And there was only one thing Din knew of that drained him of enough strength to leave him unconscious like that. Keeping the boy tucked into his arm, he once more checked your wounds, finding them significantly improved, and he sucked in what felt like a life-giving breath, as if he’d been drowning without knowing it.

He didn’t understand the kid’s abilities at all, and it was possible he never would. But he knew that his son had just saved your life, and not for the first time since he’d put his helmet on, he was glad for its concealing visor now, as tears trickled down his cheeks. You’d be okay. Not just you, but the three of you. Together, you’d be alright. Now all he had to do was figure out how to tell you just how much he wanted you to stay.

“Thank you, little one. …Thank you.”

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

@deadhumourist @idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16

#sirowsky's birthday celebration #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din and grogu #din and grogu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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formulaonedirection · 1 year

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Did you see Princess Maxy upsetting himself watching videos of himself racing? Or did you see him talking about how he could cry the day Lando wins his first race. The bloke has had his heart of his sleeve as per usual. Really hope we get some Monaco golfing content soon. At least they're mean to each other rather than soppy with each other then.

He was SOOOOOOOO cute and soppy I didn't watch the whole thing but when he was watching himself racing...sob. I don't know why he does this to himself like I really think he doesn't realise how much of a softie he exposes himself to be on twitch. Like when he does he vulnerable chit chats with the girls it's so singularly devastating but also so sweet that he's willing to be like. emotionally vulnerable (for 5 minutes before he goes back to self-deprecating) I think about this clip specifically all the time when he talks about racing. My soft lil man :( They're all very emotionally adapt for you know straight white dudes raised by the internet! I don't like wish for golf content because I, like Pietra (#FreePietra from golf), think golf is bad and boring but we do need new Mando content for joy reasons so I hope they get to do a spot of golf now that the weather isn't as shit.

#anyway we also have to at some point discuss this new personality lando is trying to adopt this year #not today i'm too sleepy but AT SOME POINT. we must discuss the Medium Lando Norris of it all #minor level mrainrot developing this morning in the nadia natalie mando universe #asks #maxy chats #also i did make cat gifs they are natalie's inbox you have to wait for her to wake up

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mandos-mind-trick · 10 months

Text

To Build A Home - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha Boba Fett x omega Din Djarin

Warnings: A/B/O universe, implied mpreg, Boba's kind of a softie, very AU post Mando season 2, fluff and cuteness but also kind of sad, named child character cause plot.

A/N: Here is the first part of the BobaDin A/B/O series. I didn't plan on finishing this one yet but it kind of just happened. There is more at the end than the teaser had so yes, it is worth rereading. this one will probably update pretty slowly since I've got plenty of other things to focus on at the moment, and just kinda update it as inspiration comes. Also the title is subject to change.

MASTERLIST