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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

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An Eye for an Eye

Chapter Seventeen of The One Condition Series | Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.1 k

Summary: Pretty thing finally confronts Alden.

TW: Mentions and depictions of drugs and drug use, toxic sibling relationship, resurfacing trauma, violence, and handcuffs

Notes: Hi everyone !! What's funny to me is I started writing this whole story based on a day dream I had. I didn't know Alden's name at the time, I had no idea how I would make the reader and Din meet, and I had absolutely no clue that it would take me this long to finally get to the idea that birthed this story in the first place! Thank you to everyone who has been a part of this journey!!

*The eighteenth chapter will be the last chapter for the series*

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“Who wants to know?”

It’s now or never. You move to step closer to Alden, but a tug of your hand has you looking back. You can see your reflection in his helmet. Your eyes look tired and that faux smile you’re wearing couldn’t fool anyone. A small shake of your head has him losing his grip on you. You squeeze back before letting it fall, to let him know it's alright, and continue walking forward.

“I do. The girl you left bleeding out on the floor ten years ago.”

You’re close enough to see him now, like really see him. His hair has grown shaggy and unkempt. His brows sit lower on his face than you remember. They almost drag his eyes down with their weight. The only thing holding them up are dark pools produced by presumably sleepless nights. His nose looks red and raw. Maker, you can smell the spice on him even at this distance. The beard he is attempting to grow is coming in in uneven patches. His lips have no color and his skin looks like it hasn’t ever seen the sun. His cheeks are hollow and protrude in an unnatural way. There is no warmth radiating from him. No soul to be found. An animated corpse. When you step under the light you think you see recognition flash across his face and soften his harsh features, but it's gone before you can tell if it was real.

“Little sis finally left Eadu, huh?,” He takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground. “Although I am shocked to see you here of all places. What's with the family reunion?”

“This isn’t a ‘family reunion’ Alden.”

“No, I guess not. If it was, that dude in the silver suit wouldn’t be here. Who is that?”

Your blood boils at his tone. It’s so jovial as if the two of you really were catching up and reminiscing about old times.

“He’s a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter that I enlisted the help of to track you down.”

Alden rolls his sleeves up to reveal fresh needle marks in his veins. You feel the heart of your past teenage self break all over again like when you first found the spice in his room. When you first started noticing your brother morph into a stranger living right down the hall from you. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side.

“To track me down? And what exactly did you think was going to happen when you found me?”

“I want some fucking answers, Alden.”

“Answers?”

“Yes. I want to know why. Why did you do what you did to mom and dad? Why did you leave me?,” you can feel your voice start to quiver. “Why didn’t you let me-let me help you?”

“Why didn’t I let you help me?,” he says your name and puts his hands behind his head. “Maker, that was always your issue. You always wanted to help me. Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t fucking want help?! Huh?”

“Oh so you liked getting so high that you couldn’t even remember what your own name was? You liked that your sixteen-year-old sister had to drag your unconscious body into the shower and spray water on you to wake you up every other night?”

“Shut up.”

His remark only makes you grow louder. “You liked that our parents had to watch their son wither away into a husk of who they once knew and loved?”

“I said shut up!”

You see, out of the corner of your eye, Din steps towards you when Alden raises his voice. You know that he knows that this is something you wanted to handle, but you appreciate that he’s ready if anything goes south.

“No. You have spent ten years running from what you did. I’m not going to give you that privilege anymore. You might not fucking care, but I do.”

He drops his hands and his shoulders sag down with them. He starts walking towards the door, but doesn’t end up opening it. Instead he just slides down and holds his head in his hands. You’re hesitant at first, but decide to walk over to him and kneel down beside him.

“Alden,” you whisper. “What happened?”

“Once I-once I got my first taste I was hooked. Nothing ever made me feel the way that spice did, but it got so fucking expensive. When Sonia- when mom- wouldn’t give me anymore money, I don’t know, I just lost it. She couldn’t do that, man.”

You’re trying to keep your composure, Maker knows he doesn’t deserve it, but you’re trying. It’s hard when you keep replaying the sound the blaster made when your mom was killed. It’s especially hard when the man that was on the other end of the blaster is sitting right in front of you.

“She couldn’t just give me money and then take it away like that. I tried to reason with her, but Bumi walked in and put his fucking foot down. Said that I was ‘cut off’. So I did the only thing I could think of: get high.”

“You didn’t have to kill them, Alden.”

“You don’t understand! I was out of money and I had just used the last of my spice. I knew Bumi had that stupid wooden box full of credits; that’s all I wanted,” he lifts his head up and looks at you. “But they wouldn’t fucking give it to me.”

Even when you’re looking directly in his eyes, you can see that there is nothing there. He’s just going in circles. He’s trying to justify what he did by using their actions against them. The actions they took to try to help him. You stand up and take a step back.

“But you didn’t have to kill them, Alden.”

“In the end it doesn't even matter because I never got the money.” He rests his hands on his knees.

“It doesn’t even matter? It doesn’t even fucking matter? Is that why you’re shooting random shit into your veins? Because it doesn’t matter?!”

“It’s the only time that I can’t see their faces looking back at me when I close my eyes!”

“Wha-?”

“When I’m high I don’t have to think about what I did.”

“You. Don’t. Get. That. Privilege.” you spit. “I can’t just forget about it. I have to live with what you did every single fucking day, Alden. You left me with a permanent fucking reminder!”

“I know. I know I did.”

You can feel yourself starting to ramble. You have waited ten years to let this out and you’re not going to stop now.

“They loved you! I loved you! And you threw that away!”

“I couldn’t help it! I was too far gone and I couldn’t stop. You know what,” he stands up and you take a step back. “I have lived with the guilt for too long. An eye for an eye.”

You can feel Din standing directly behind you now. He must have gotten anxious when Alden stood up again. You back up until you connect with his chest and feel his hand come to rest on your shoulder.

“An eye for an eye,” Alden says again. “You hired a bounty hunter for fucks sake! Just do what you came here to do.”

For the first time since you arrived on Daiyu, your head feels clear. You close your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. When you open them again, you know what you want to do. No turning back. You’re done running from nightmares.

“An eye for an eye would make me just like you. I really spent months traveling through hyperspace with the sole intention of killing you. I thought that would end the pain, but it won’t. Nothing you do or say will fix it. I’m tired of getting eaten alive by the hate I have been harboring for you, Alden. I don’t want to get burnt out by all of my anger.”

You feel Din squeeze your shoulder as you heid his earlier warning.

“You don’t get to drag me down to your level. So I’m going to do exactly what you did for me that night.”

“And what did I do?”

“Nothing. You did nothing for me that night. That’s what you deserve from me. Absolutely nothing.”

You look up at Din and smile a sad, but genuine smile. “Let’s go home. I’m done here.”

“You’re done?!,” Alden’s eyes are wild. “You came all this way and you’re going to pussy out now? Just fucking do it! Release me!”

He lunges forward at you, but Din is quicker. He turns your body so that your back is to your brother and so you don’t see him connect his fist with Alden’s jaw. You still hear the bone chilling crack and his pathetic cries when he hits the ground. You try to turn around to see, but a gloved hand just holds your head in place. You don’t try again and just let him cradle you.

“If you’re smart you’ll stay down. If it were up to me, you would have been dead a long time ago. What you did is unforgivable and I hope to The Maker that you answer for it in the next life, but it also led her to me. She means more to me than you will ever know.”

Before Alden even has a chance to answer him, Din scoops you up and starts walking down the alley to get to the front of the building. He keeps your head down and close to his chest and you let him. You don’t let the fact that Alden never once apologized bother you. You just hold onto Din’s words and let them wash away the hate in your heart. You don’t have room for it anymore.

Perhaps it's the light swaying of your body in his arms or your body giving out from pure exhaustion due to your interaction, but you fall asleep before you make it to the front of the lab. You don’t have any nightmares. You don’t even have any dreams. You just sleep and for the first time, the darkness that surrounds you is as comforting as an old friend.

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

You stir from sleep when you hear the creaking of the ramp opening and then when it connects with the floor. Before you even open your eyes you can smell him. Faint notes of pine and his natural musk temp you to drift off again. Your cheek is resting on the fabric of his cape that wraps around his neck. It's not the most comfortable piece of cloth in the world; it's actually rather scratchy. Regardless you nuzzle your head deeper into it and let out a dreamy sigh.

“She wakes.”

Even with the knowledge of you being awake, he doesn’t make a move to set you on your feet. You feel a twinge of guilt at the fact that he carried you all the way from the lab to The Crest. That was no leisurely walk. However, it fizzles out because you know that Din never does anything he doesn’t want to do. His stubbornness falls second to his softness when it comes to you. For once in your life, you allow someone to take care of you. You have spent your entire life giving yourself to others and holding their pain so they could have a fraction of peace. And while you did all of this without expectation of reciprocation, you secretly yearned for it.

The whole walk back from the lab, Din’s mind couldn’t be calmed. As soon as he noticed that you had passed out, he had half a mind to permanently remove Alden from both your life and the planet's surface. Although he would never admit it, he even stopped and contemplated going through with it. The more he thought, the heavier the blaster on his hip grew. What ultimately swayed him was having to look into your eyes everyday and lie. Killing Alden would have been as easy and natural as taking a breath, but lying to you was a challenge he knew he would fail. He told you that it was your hunt and that you should call the shots. By killing Alden, he would be undermining your call to let him live. Even if he was secretly hoping you would have allowed him to remove that virus of a person from the universe. You chose what was true to you and he accepted it.

Listening to you yell at and plead with your brother for answers was one of the hardest things he has ever had to do. He can usually fight or buy his way out of any scenario, but not this. He had to watch one of the most precious things in his world struggle right in front of him. He was pushing his fist so hard into the side of the metal building that it left a dent. His heart skipped a beat when Alden raised his voice at you. Before he even realized what was happening, his feet had carried him a few steps forward. You looked back at him and his shoulders relaxed, but just slightly. Although when Alden stood up from the ground and walked toward you, he wasn’t able to stop himself that time. He had to let you know that you weren’t alone and that he was there. Thank The Maker he did too. If you had gotten hurt by your brother again and he wasn’t able to stop it this time…he can’t even begin to imagine the carnage he would have wreaked. There wouldn’t have been a place Alden could have gone too where he wouldn’t have followed and found him.

Another thought rears its ugly head as he continues walking with your sleeping body through the Daiyu streets: what happens now? Your mission has been completed. He has helped you find Alden. That’s what you hired him to do after all. What would you do once this knowledge sinks in for you too? The knowledge that you technically no longer have a reason to stay with him. Would you ask him to take you back to Navarro? Or maybe back to Eadu so you can live in isolation for the rest of your life? He can feel his skin crawl at the thought of the hull being so silent. It would no longer be filled with things he didn’t realize he couldn’t live without. The sounds of your laughter and your bare feet padding around against the cool floor of the ship. The smell of you and your soap on his sheets long after you have left them. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin in the darkness and the warmth your body exudes when he holds you closely.

You crack your eyes and see him stroll past your hidden bed and right to his own. Even after carrying you for over an hour, he is gentle and slow when he lays you down on the cot. You hear him clamoring around in the pantry to make something for the hungry child. A smile worms its way across your face as you hear the two of them talking back and forth with each other. This is home. It isn’t Eadu you laugh to yourself. No it definitely isn’t Eadu. There were no windows to let the sunlight and fresh air in, no abundance of land or greenery, and no fresh produce.

Eadu isn’t who you are anymore however. Now your one window lets in the light of thousands of beaming stars. The small space of the ship makes you feel comforted and allows you to never forget that you're not alone anymore. The food, while you would still prefer it fresh, is made with and for people you care about. There wasn’t a place in the galaxy you would rather be than here.

By the time Din returns to you, you have made your way under his covers and wrapped yourself up. You sit up when you see him leaning against the doorframe and looking at you.

“What?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“You-you are?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t mad that I didn’t let you do what I hired you for?” You ask genuinely.

You hear him laugh under his helmet and move to sit down on the edge of the bed. You wriggle your way out of the cocoon you created for yourself and scoot up next to him. He places his hand on the inside of your thigh and rubs you with his thumb.

“I told you that it was your call and you were in control of what happened,” he looks up from your thigh and peers over at the kid playing with his silver ball on the floor. “I did get to knock him on his ass. How could I be mad at that?”

“Oh! Your credits! Let me get those for you.”

You make a move to get up to go get them, but Din keeps his hand firmly on your leg.

“We can take care of that later. I know you’re good for the money. Plus, I know where you live.” You can feel him winking at you under his beskar.

If you’re being honest you really didn’t want to give the credits to him. Not because you didn’t want to pay him, but because when you did, all of this would end. You aren’t ready to give this up. To give him up.

“What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Maker, you always have the most random things on your mind.”

“I’m serious,” you swat at his arm. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“You.” He says in a hushed voice.

Your mouth hangs slightly agape while you feel your cheeks burn.

“I told you I was being serious!”

“I was. You asked and I answered seriously.” His hands are up in a defensive position.

“Then let me rephrase. What is your favorite thing to eat from childhood?”

“You’re no fun.”

You stick out your tongue at him and patiently wait for him to answer.

“Probably…tiingilar.”

“Tiingilar? What’s that?”

“It’s a traditional stew made on Mandalore,” his voice sounds bitter sweet as he talks about his adoptive planet. “It’s made of a blend of various meats, vegetables, grains and spices.”

“That sounds so fucking good.”

“Oh it was. Eating it was a challenge in and out of itself though.”

You give him a quizzical look.

“Well, like I said it had a lot of spices in it. So naturally, it had the potential to have an almost deadly heat. In fact,” he stops mid sentence to laugh. “If it was a particularly good batch, it could singe your nose hairs right off.”

You protectively put your hands over your nose. “Why would you eat something that could cause you physical pain? Are you insane?!”

“It was a fun game to play. The more heat you could withstand, the stronger Mandalorian you were. It was known to sweat even the toughest of us right out of our beskar.”

You listen to him ramble on about the stew and how he actually ended up sick for a few days because of one batch's spice level. You unconsciously lean in the more he talks about Mandalore. Your heart flutters when you hear how excited he is by the volume of his voice. He rarely speaks of where he spent his childhood. You’re careful not to say anything so you won’t snap him out of his expository. In truth, you wanted to know what his favorite meal is so you can recreate it for him. Paying him with just the credits almost feels like a disservice to what he has done for you. Honestly, you don’t think you could ever repay him, but a home cooked meal seems like a good place to start. A plan and mental grocery list starts forming in your brain.

When he reaches the end of his stories you place your hand on his and thank him for sharing all of that with you. Before you side out of bed to take care of the child, you place a kiss on his helmet.

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

“I think he’s asleep,” You whisper as you walk over to Din. “I’m honestly surprised he went down as easily as he did given that he slept through the entirety of Daiyu.”

Din is currently unloading the arsenal of weapons he carries on himself into the armory. You stand quietly next to him and watch as his rifle and each blaster and bomb finds its designated spot on the wall. Your eyes travel from one gun to the other and freeze when they land on a tool that you have only seen used once. Din must have noticed your body tense.

“What’s wrong?”

Embarrassment and unexpected arousal flood your body as your eyes continue to stay locked on the handcuffs he has hanging up. He follows your eye line and stiffens himself, in more ways than one. A strangled noise comes through his modulator.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, but you don’t have too, pretty thing. I can see it in your eyes.”

You turn to see that his gaze is locked on you now. Your stomach churns as fantasies play out rapidly in your mind.

“Well…what are you going to do about it?”

You watch as he rips the cuffs off the wall without even turning to look at them. He wraps his hand around your back and pulls you into him.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

The next thing you know, the two of you are scrambling to take off what you’re wearing. Armor is clattering to the ground, shirts and pants are flying off in various directions. When you naturally finish undressing first, you watch in awe as his body is revealed to you. You have seen it multiple times and felt it more than you can count on two hands, but it never gets old. His skin always looks warmed by the sun. His stomach is slightly round with an ever intriguing trail of hair under his naval. As he removes his pants your eyes trail down to take in his V. Maker, you want him so bad your mouth is watering. When his hands slowly go up to remove his helmet, you throw him a wink and cover your own with your band.

You hear the thud of the helmet connecting with the ground in exchange for the pair of handcuffs. A shiver runs down your spine and your breathing picks up as you hear him walking towards you.

“Stand up.”

You do as you're told and hold yourself steady when your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. He grips your shoulder and spins you around so that your back is facing him now.

“Give me your wrists, pretty thing.”

You obey again and move your arms to rest at the small of your back. A click is heard and then a strong hand takes your left wrist and places it inside the first cuff. He then does the same with your right. Once they are securely fastened behind you, you instinctively pull on it.

“You’ll find that the only way you’re getting out of those is if I let you.”

Still blinded, you turn your head and speak over your shoulder. “While it was fun to be in control, it’s a lot more fun to be at your mercy.”

In response you are met with him grabbing your hips and his length sitting firmly between your ass. You can’t help but moan out at the sensation.

“I’m going to go down on you until you’re dripping down my chin.”

He spins your body back around and sets you back down on the bed. You scoot yourself backwards with your legs until your head reaches the pillow. The bed moves beneath you as he finds his place in between your thighs. As you spread them for him, he let out a godless moan at what you have presented. His tongue finds its home in your folds and your back arches at his touch. Your mind and body feed off of his incoherent groans while he laps you up. His nose continuously hits your clit as you grind your body down into him. You strain against the cuffs behind your back as he devours you. Your fingers tingle with the need to bury themselves inside the curls of his hair. With each grunt and moan he releases you feel yourself drifting closer and closer to your orgasm.

Maker, he has thought about you cuffed and pulling against your restraints due to his tongue frequently…very frequently. He looks up at your naked body while you jerk before him. Your breasts glisten with sweat and they heave as you gulp down air. Your lower lip is caught in your teeth as you battle against his mouth with your body. The sounds escaping you are captivating. The ebb and flow the two of you have is otherworldly.

“Right there fuck,” a moan cuts through your sentence. “Stay right there.”

Din heeds your command and continues his steady pace on your cunt. As you open your mouth to praise him again, your breath is stolen from you. Your orgasm slams into you hard and fast. All you can do is shakily rock your body onto Din’s now soaking face. It takes you a while to come down from your high as the man between your legs refuses to stop pleasuring you. Your oversensitive body flinches whenever his lips come up and circle your clit. Again your wrists twist around inside the cuffs that bound you.

“You want to touch me so bad, don’t you?”

“So fucking bad.” You whine desperately.

“You’re out of luck. I’m having my way with you now, Mesh'la.”

You feel him kissing his way up your body. You wish you could burn each and everyone of those kisses into your skin permanently. He travels up through the valley of your breasts, your collar bone, the side of your neck, and finally your lips. It’s a feeling well worth the wait. You wish, now more than ever, that you could hold the sides of his face. You want to feel that beard with your fingers and not just the inside of your thighs.

You push your core up to meet him and you feel a smile curl on his lips.

“Not so fast, pretty thing.”

“But I want you, Din.”

“Fuck, you make it so hard to say no.”

“Then don’t.” You let your lips make their way down from his jaw to his neck.

Before you know what’s happening he takes your head in his hands and kisses you. Your body burns for him.

“Brace yourself.” He says panting as he pulls away from you.

“Wha-? Ahh!”

He flips you so that now you’re laying on your stomach and the side of your face is resting on your pillow. You quickly catch on and prop your knees up underneath you. Your ass is now on display in front of him and your latched hands rests atop it. A few drops of sweat tickle your back as they slide down due to your new position. You feel a calloused hand grip your ass; a sensation that makes your eyelids flutter behind the band. His other hand grabs your joined wrists and uses them to keep himself steady. He slides himself inside your cunt in one go before bottoming out. You cry out in both surprise and pleasure.

You can still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size as he begins thrusting into you at an anchored pace. Each time he hits your sweet spot, stars erupt behind your cover eyes. He works at you mercilessly and all you can do is whine in appreciation. You hold your body in place as best as you can. Even though, with each pound he delivers to you, your bones threaten to turn to jelly. He feeds your internal fire by whispering honeyed words. You tell yourself to hold on so you can feel and listen to him longer, but it's too hard. His voice tips you over the edge and you plunge into your pleasure.

He talks you through your orgasm, while keeping a languid pace. As clarity returns to you, so does the desire to make him cum. Without warning you begin to thrust your body back to meet his. He must not have expected your tired body to suddenly pick up speed because his hands dig into the skin of your ass. You hear him curse behind you and a whimper slips out.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He growls. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you say panting. “I’m yours, Din.”

Your verbal confirmation is all he needs before he's spilling deep inside you. You reward him with a moan of satisfaction as you feel it beginning to leak out of you. As he pulls out, your body slumps down into the cot, hands still bound behind your back. You’re too dazed to realize that he left to go get you a towel and the key for the cuffs. When he returns, he gently works the cuffs open and frees you one wrist at a time. You turn over on your back and groan out slightly in pain. Both you and Din constantly pulling at your restraints has made your wrists and shoulders ache. As you rub on your sore joints, Din diligently cleans you up. He makes sure to kiss you in between each swipe of the towel.

After all is said and done, the two of you lay intertwined together. Din apologized when he realized that your shoulders were hurting. He had been scared that he had gotten too rough with you.

“Occupational hazard.” You said to him sweetly. “I would have told you to stop if I didn’t enjoy it.”

It takes you a while to convince him that you really are alright, but eventually he comes around. The silence between you two is peaceful, yet there seems to be an unspoken issue in the air. You can feel it and you are sure that Din can too. You’re just about to make a comment when he beats you to it.

“Would you-would you like to come back to Navarro with me? Until you figure out what you want to do?”

“Of course I would. Getting rid of me isn’t that easy.”The truth was, you had figured out what you wanted to do. You just weren’t sure how to ask for it.

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#din x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars

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daincrediblegg · 8 months

Note

Is Lady Terror an original female character or, like, the human personification of the Terror ship? Like Doctor Who and Idris/Tardis?

OH MAN NONNIE! FUNNY YOU SAY THAT!!!

So yes. SHE IS an original female character... but as I originally conceived her she was, in part, a human personification of the ship.

because you see, I'm a whore about television shows. Sometimes I mix and match them for au's to fit my needs, even. And at around the time I re-watched the terror in the early months of this year and summarily got myself INTO this mess, I was also watching 1899, which everyone was pissed about netflix cancelling (and I completely understand why- just another on a whole laundry list of genuinely amazing shows that were not given what they were due- my personal grievance among the likes of The OA and Teenage Bounty Hunters... seriously it's such a shame), and that having a bit of a (spoilers) sci-fi twist in it got the gears turning for what the lady terror thing would actually become. It was just a nickname- one for the AI (and one that could conceivably be reader inserted) that ran the terror SPACE ship, and who happened to have the ability to pop into their alternative cryosleep victorian reality- and one that francis fell (and falls) in love with... again and again and again upon every loop on the ship.

But then I got Serious about the plot, and came up with some stuff that was even better in the context of the plain ol canon context, but the nickname stuck like feathers on tar (because in fairness it is a DAMN good nickname). But now divorced from its original context it still holds the same amount of weight for me- if not MORE than it ever did. Now it has a nasty and even sexist implication to the men who gave it to her (since she was originally designated to the HMS EREBUS, but over the course of the story ends up spending more and more time on Terror... so there you have it)... but also I think of all the things that Francis himself says a ship is to a man... and I think a lot also about how much of a "terror" that she herself is also by defying a lot of the rules that such an objectifying nickname might lay out for her (as so many of them tend to do). And it's just too bloody good and delicious to think about and I can't let it go for the life of me now 😂😂😂So there you have it. Lady Terror: Origins

#thank you nonnie 🥰#this ask made me feel like neil gaiman even if only for a minute #lady terror #egg's oc's #also yeah just go look up gifs of maura x eyk. lotta the original groundwork for francis and lady terror came from that #man should I make a lore tag for her now???#lady terror lore #??? is that anything????

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morganwrites-starwars · 2 years

Text

Time is a social construct pt. 4

Mandalorian Time Travel AU

Summary: Din is trying his best, ok? But between trying to find a teacher for his magic kid and learning there were other Mandalorians who follow a different creed, Din is very confused and lost. So when he ends up on a plant that his HUD says is Manda’yaim and encounters two teens on the run from a group of dar’mandas called Death Watch, Din figures he way as well help them. He never meant to adopt them. Or become Mand’alor.

Masterlist

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Din didn’t bother suppressing his chuckle at Ben’s affronted expression as the teen blearily stumbled out of his room the following day.

“You- what? I-“ Ben stumbled through his words. Ben rubbed his eyes. “Why?”

“You looked like you need the sleep, ad’ika. And I’m perfectly capable of staying awake one night,” Din explained, shifting on the couch. He had relocated a few hours in. The couch was old but still more comfortable than the plastic chairs.

Ben pouted, which was frankly adorable on the teen’s face. “I’m taking first watch tomorrow.”

Din chuckled again. “Whatever you want. Now, get something to eat.”

Ben huffed again but grabbed a pack of dried orange slices that were from the pantry. Ben sat on the couch next to Din, sliding slightly closer to Din due to the indent of the larger man made in the couch.

Ben munched on his oranges, and Din took a moment to listen for Grogu. “Did you eat yet?” Ben asked.

Din smiled at the kid’s attempt to act casual. “Yes, before you woke up.”

“Good. Good,” Ben nodded. “Satine probably won’t wake up for a little bit. She’s never been an earlier riser.”

“And Grogu sleeps like the dead,” Din joked, prompting Ben to chuckle.

“Yeah, I know someone like that. Snores like a bantha too,” Ben grumbled.

They sat in silence for another minute as Ben finished first meal. Din took a slow breath.

“So,” Din started in what was hopefully a relaxed tone, “how long have you and Satine been on the run?”

Ben shifted in his seat and didn’t reply. But Din was content to wait him out. He would help protect Ben and Satine as long as needed (especially since he wanted to figure out the whole being on Manda’yiam thing). He could technically do that without knowing much about the situation- he certainly had completed bounties with less. But Din wanted to know, to fill in the blanks of Ben and Satine’s story, to figure out what the hells a New Mandalorian was. And Ben seemed to be more comfortable around Din than Satine was.

Ben sighed and tilted his head slightly- a classic Mando sign of ‘I’m thinking about it.’ “About half a standard year.”

Din resisted the urge to suck in a breath. That was way too long for these two teenagers to be on the run (especially if they were alone most of the time). What were their buire thinking? Even if they are working on solving the issue, Din feels like it is obvious that Ben and Satine should have been shipped to another, safer planet.

“Why-“ Din sighed and lamented his inability to rub his hand down his face. “Ok. Sure. Please tell me it hasn’t just been you two most of the time. Surely either your or Satine’s buir was with you?”

Ben looked confused for a split second before he smiled. “Oh no, my Ma-buir was with us for some time. He decided to return and help Satine’s buir stop the Death Watch, though.”

Ok, so not too bad. Well, maybe. “How long ago was that?”

“Eh, maybe two and a half, three months ago.”

Only Din’s professionalism and years as a bounty hunter allowed him to keep his cool. Because Din would’ve accepted a week, or hell, even a month, as a valid answer. But nearly three months? While Din had minimal doubts about Ben’s fighting ability, leaving one teenager to defend himself and another against well-trained adults for three months was unacceptable. It didn’t help that Din wasn’t sure what their buire left with them versus what Ban and Satine had to get themselves.

Ben figured out Din’s silence was not a happy one and leaped to his buir’s defense, as ade were wont to do. “It hasn’t been that bad. And he left instruction to find passage off-planet if he hasn’t gotten in contact in another month.”

“And did he give you credits to buy seats on a ship? And is there even a ship port you know of that would be safe?” Din question, probably pushing a bit too much if Ben’s shoulder’s hunching in was any indication.

“Nayc,” Ben responded meekly. Ben wasn’t looking at Din anymore.

Din forced himself to take a deep breath. Kids, teenagers were not a strong suit. His position as beroya meant he didn’t spend much time with his clan, with the ade. The ade would look at him with starstruck gazes, but only the bravest of the bunch typically approached him. Teenagers, those who had just passed their verd’gotten, were better. But they mainly just wanted training help or to learn about his life as the tribe beroya. Din had always considered taking one on as an apprentice, but the whole Grogu thin got in the way. And now they were-well. It wasn’t happening any time soon.

“Ben’ika,” Dain said, softer this time. When Ben didn’t look up from his hands, Din slowly reached out and set a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m not mad or upset at you. I just- I have some issues with the way your buir has handled the situation.” Ben was now looking at Din out of the corner of his eye. Din took this as a good sign and kept going. “You are doing a great job. I’m incredibly impressed. Your buir’s actions are just ori’suumyc for me.”

Ben winced and opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t- I can guess, but I don’t know what that means. I know ori is big.”

Breath Din. Ben had already shown that he had an understanding, at least a basic one, of Mando’a. It’s entirely possible it was just a niche or uncommon phrase. Din didn’t know any Mandalorians outside of his tribe, so that was possible.

“Ori’suumyc means one step too far, or outrageous,” Din explained. The way Ben visibly processed the information, nodded, and smiled was endearing. There was a shuffling coming from Ben and Satine’s room. “Can we continue this conversation later?”

“Sure,” Ben agreed. “I don’t think Satine would appreciate- uh-“

“Criticizing her buir?” Din guessed.

“Among other things.”

Satine came out of the room, and Din was honestly a little impressed at her lack of bed hair. Manda knows Din got it bad, and his hair wasn’t that long. Maybe she had been awake longer than Din had thought and had brushed it. Her regal posture definitely didn’t indicate any tiredness.

“Good morning,” Satine greeted. Din didn’t miss how she only smiled when she looked at Ben.

“Morning Satine.”

“Jate vaar’tur.”

Satine sniffed and went over to their food pile. As she went through the options, Din stood up.

“I better go get Grogu,” Din said. “If he sleeps much longer, he’ll make a fuss at bedtime.” It was a hard-learned lesson.

Din grabbed a piece of non-spiced jerky for Grogu to have for first meal. He pointedly ignored the whispers between Ben and Satine as he walked into the front bedroom. There was a small lump settled on one of the pillows. The covers over it were moving in a steady rhythm.

Din quietly walked over to the bed and pulled the cover off Grogu. He whispered, “Hey, kid, time to get up.” Grogu whined, curled into a together ball, and buried his face into the pillow. Din sighed, part fond and part exasperated. Din rested one hand on Grogu’s head and gently stroked his brow. “Yeah, I know. But look, I brought food.”

Grogu peeked one eye open to see the piece of jerky Din offered. The kid considered his offer before huffing. Grogu sat up and held his hands out, greedily accepting Din’s offering. Din was impressed at Grogu’s grumpy expression. He didn’t think someone so small, who was eating food, could look so annoyed at the world. Din moved to go grab a pouch of water, but Grogu whined again.

“Yes, ad’ika?” Din asked. Grogu patted the bed, and Din sighed, entirely fond this time. And, of course, Din sat down, allowing Grogu to climb onto his lap and rest back on his chest. “Happy?”

Grogu gurgled a confirmation and continued eating his breakfast. Din could hear Ben and Satine talking but couldn’t make out the words.

“Patuu?” Grogu asked, holding his half-eaten piece of jerky up to Din.

“Thank you, ad’ika, but I already ate,” Din said, chuckling. Grogu cooed and continued to eat. Din let his thoughts wander. Satine didn’t seem to like Din very much. Correction, as Din thought on it, she didn’t seem to like it when Din was violent or (curiously) speaking Mando’a. Maybe whatever a New Mandalorian was didn’t correctly teach their ade? That was the only conclusion Din could come to with Ben’s shaky knowledge of Mando’a and Satine’s apparent distaste. It seemed that New Mandalorians were claiming to be Mandalorians without doing any Mandalorian thing. Because no real Mandalorian buir would let their unarmored and weaponless ade be hunted. It was more frustrating than the time Din went on a four-planet wild bantha chase for a bounty. A pursuit that ended in Din nearly being thrown into a fighting ring.

“Ba?” Grogu cooed, gently slapping Din’s chest. Din hummed and looked down at him. Grogu looked back, eyes wide with concern. “Patuu?”

“I’m ok, Grogu,” Din said, gently stroking one of Grogu’s ears. “Just trying to figure some things out.” Grogu was satisfied with his answer. Then the kid promptly burped, causing Din to laugh at Grogu’s startled expression. “I guess first meal was good, then?”

Grogu smiled and slid himself off the bed, landing with a light thump. Din stood up as Grogu began to walk to the door. Din walked heavily behind him, hoping to warn Ben and Satine that their conversation was about to be interrupted.

Grogu squealed when he saw Ben and ran as quickly as his little legs would allow. Ben chuckled and quickly picked Grogu up when the kid reached him. Din didn’t know when Grogu decided he liked Ben that much, but Din wouldn’t complain. It was cute watching Ben and Satine respond to Grogu’s babbles with smiles. Made them actually look their age for once. Din supposed that Ben could talk to Grogu in the same way Ahsoka was able to. So Grogu probably enjoyed having someone understand him for once.

Din had to swallow the lump in his throat. Because for all this scene, and Grogu, made him happy, it wouldn’t last. Grogu would be better off somewhere he could communicate easily and where he didn’t have to worry about getting shot at or blown up. Yes, as much as Din loved the kid (and yes, he was finally able to admit that to himself), Din knew he was only a temporary home.

A fleeting thought struck Din as he sat down to watch the kids talk and levitate the wrapper from Ben’s food. It wasn’t the first time Din had thought of it, but he didn’t want to linger and build up false hope. But, Ben clearly had the same powers as Grogu. Maybe, just maybe, whoever taught Ben the Force would be willing to teach Grogu. Or maybe even Ben would be willing to teach Grogu the basics. Then, Din could stay with his kid, and Grogu would be able to learn. It was a nice thought.

A wrapper was floated in front of Din’s face. Grogu’s cooing told Din it was the kid floating the object.

“Good job, kid,” Din praised, chuckling when Grogu lit up, his babbling kicking up a notch.

“He’s strong in the Force,” Ben said. “Like Master Yoda and Master Yaddle are.”

“Who?” Din asked. He remembered that Ben had called Grogu the first name when they first met.

“Master Yoda and Yaddle are the same species that Grogu is. Probably 800 hundred years older or so.” Ben shrugged. “I don’t know what kind of species that is. They refuse to say.”

The lump in Din’s throat returned at the reminder that Grogu would easily outlive Din. And, if Ben was true and Grogu would live to be 800 years old, the time that Grogu spent with Din would be a minuscule fraction of the kid’s life. Would Grogu even remember Din? Another reason why Din can’t be selfish and keep Grogu with him. Grogu would need someone to care for him after Din dies. Because Din imagines it’ll be another 100 years or so before Grogu is on par with a human child. And Din, despite his best efforts, would never live that long.

“Din?” Ben asked, startling Din out of his thoughts. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I uh-“ Din paused and blushed as he realized something. “I never told you my name.”

Ben also blushed. “Oh, uh, Grogu told me. I, uh, I hope that’s ok? I don’t have to call you that if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s ok. I didn’t even realize I didn’t share it. Most people just call me Mando,” Din said. He really hadn’t meant to forget to introduce himself.

“Is that what you want us to call you?” Satine asked, looking uncomfortable with the idea.

“No. You can call me Din. Uh, my name is Din Djarin,” Din finally introduced himself. It was weird to tell his name to people he’d only met the other day. But these were ade, and Din didn’t want them to be uncomfortable around him because he refused to share his name.

Ben looked at Satine nervously. She looked back, shocked, clearly knowing what he was trying to convey. But before she could say anything, Ben turned back to Din and smiled awkwardly. “My real name is Obi-wan. We, uh, I decided to use a fake name. Obi-wan is pretty uncommon in this part of the galaxy.”

That was fair. Obi-wan was certainly not a Mandalorian name. Din wondered if Obi-wan had been adopted or if his buire decided to name him based on wherever they originated from.

“Alright then, Obi-wan,” Din said, looking at Satine. “And Satine?”

She smiled tightly. “No secret names for me, I’m afraid.”

“Well, feel free to let us know if you come up with one,” Din said, solely because he wanted to make his kids (as in the kids under his protection not- no. Nope, not going there) smile. It worked.

“So, how long do we plan on staying here?” Satine asked. Grogu demanded to be let down, so Ben- Obi-wan (that was going to take getting used to) set the kid on the floor. Grogu began to wander over to one of the wall-mounted cabinets.

“Well, baring being found, we can stay here another night to two,” Din said. “It would be good to figure out where we wanted to go before heading out.”

“I can look at my datapad to see if there are any friendly settlements nearby,” Obi-wan offered.

“I want to look around and see what things might be of use,” Din said, thinking of the greenhouse and garage.

“I can help you with that,” Satine said, though she looked like she’d rather not. But Din wasn’t going to say no to the help.

“Alright, go, team,” Obi-wan said dryly.

“What kind of team are we?” Din asked, half-joking, as he stood up.

“The jury-rigged kind,” Satine responded, prompting Din and Obi-wan to laugh.

�� She wasn’t wrong.

Masterlist

Mando'a translations: Nayc: no Jate vaar'tur- good morning

#din darjin #mando #mando and grogu #the mandalorian #time travel au #time travel #obi wan kenobi #duchess satine #satine kryze #fluff #din adopts every lone child he meets #baby yoda #star wars #death watch #canon typical violence #time is a social construct

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omegatheunknown · 6 months

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Top 10 of 2023 -- Theatrical Releases

Started using letterboxd as a journal two years ago, mostly so I could remember just how recently I'd watched Big Trouble in Little China or Hot Fuzz, but also to hit 'em with of the moment reviews and ratings fresh from the theatre. Which is to say, I'm a little nervous to see what'll come up at the top, but let's take a trip.

10- The Boogeyman (**1/2) - Technically in theatres for a week or two. Buried otherwise, a low stakes King adaptation/remake/reboot that makes the list so I don't have to say anything about AntMan, Elemental, Renfield, or, god forbid, Mario. Effective horror, kind of a neat creature at the center of it, pleasantly surprised that I didn't hate it.

9- Asteroid City (***) - Did lead to a minor personal epiphany, so not all bad. The amount of meta-fictional artifice (lest we for a second want to empathize or consider Wes' paper doll characters in his paper doll theatre as being recognizably human) has gone well-beyond the 'as Royal Tenenbaum' and 'let me tell you about my boat,' past the authorial frame of the Grand Budapest and as of The French Dispatch, Mssr Anderson is now almost entirely preoccupied with stories within stories and it is actually very annoying. (The minor epiphany is that I have also been doing this, as metafiction delights me too, Wes, but why should anyone else care?) Anyway, highlight here is the usual meticulous design, the ridiculous stop-motion sequence, some crackerjack dialogue (muted because now every character has the same blunted affect and without subtitles I sorta glazed over in parts) and these movies remain quite funny.

8- Barbie (***1/2) - Watched a lot of pablum this year, most of it with very naked corporate ambition. Barbie's central trick is to critique itself and the very cynical context in which it critiques itself and hopefully contain within it the entire discourse (good luck to you.) Wish I hadn't had to listen to people earnestly tell me how brilliant and resonant certain 'pause for applause' moments were, but the humour may well stand the test of time, and people were rightly hyped on Ryan Gosling's over-delivery on what once was seen as an unlikely bit of casting.

7- Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 (***1/2) - Not too proud to admit I was, in 2023, still kind of excited to see this one (1) marvel movie. Crisp Rat aside, the Guardians deliver best on the comic-to-screen vibe and rarely seem embarrassed with their source, leading to the intense emotional journey of a CGI mutant raccoon bounty hunter reckoning with his maker, no winking involved. Rocket Raccoon is my fucking guy, anyway, no more of these, please and thanks.

6- Dungeons and Dragons, Honor Among Thieves (***1/2) - Yeah, okay, more popcorn flick pablum. Hasbro hoping to further capitalize on the pop culture rise of and monetize and micro-transaction-atize and thereby enshitiffy one of my dearest hobbies (I am diversifying away from D&D TM) looming large in the background here, given the whole OGL blowback it was briefly reasonable large portions of diehards might boycott this thing. Anyway, saw it, liked it, succeeded wildly in the goal of effectively conveying what it's actually like to play a fantasy ttrpg, all the weird in-jokes, wild variations in tone, hand-waving and quirks of 'the rules' there for snorts of recognition. Cannot imagine this was much fun for non-players, but maybe.

5- Across the Spider-Verse (****) - Extremely hyped, but hopefully not the zenith of the trilogy, a lot is riding on part 3, which is thankfully due, uhhh, sometime next year? Dragged out its ending laying more groundwork, but before then, another ceiling breaking exercise in contemporary animation, an almost non-stop kinetic kaleidoscope of visual creativity that augurs well for animation's continued evolution.

4- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in Mutant Mayhem (****) - Speaking of. Now, I've loved the Turtles since I was 4 years old, so my personal belief has always been, even though I love the 1990 rubber-suited cash grab, that the central premise is something that in the right hands can actually be objectively good, as opposed to personally delightful to me. This is that movie, the good Ninja Turtles movie. 'Teenage' -- to the point of being endearingly, obnoxiously immature, 'Mutant' -- to the point that the world around them is just as grody and fucked up looking as they are, 'Ninja' -- with sly handheld camera angles and satisfyingly fluid motion to rival Spiderverse, and uh, 'Turtles' -- they sure fucking are. I loved this. Jackie Chan forever.More, please.

3- Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person (****) - Exceedingly Quebecois take on the contemporary hipster vampire movie, Can-con for my list. Canadian Indies in 2023 are strikingly similar to American Indies from 2008, if that at all recommends. Ranks high for efficient self-contained everything, very charming, funny, just bizarre enough.

2- The Boy and the Heron (****1/2) - Easy to feel like this is a Ghibli greatest hits compilation, easier to remember that's what we all kinda want-- cute and unsettling creatures, delicious looking food, spirit worlds, quiet moments of reflection, arcane rules for how any and everything works... yet also maybe the truest return to the titanic achievements of Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away (especially.) Story forms a suitably esoteric thesis about grief and creation and, ultimately, endings. I think Miyazaki might actually be done this time.

1- Godzilla Minus One (*****) - An entirely different movie than Shin Godzilla, very possibly even better. It's tense (Godzilla hasn't felt creepy like this for a while.) It's emotional (rivals Godzilla vs Biollante in its human story.) It's very naked in its message (ah, the guilt.) The action is superb. I do not know where Godzilla goes from here. (Mothra!)

(Haven’t seen: Poor Things, Bottoms, Napoleon, the Killer, a bunch of other crap.)

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ladyonfire28 · 1 year

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Maybe you should try watching Teenage Bounty Hunters and/or NCIS Hawai'i. The first because it's funny, there are teenagers figuring out their sexuality in an honest way, the characters look their age and of course there is a wlw relationship. Also it's just 10 eps because fuck Netflix. The second is because the main relationship is actually focused on 2 women who have insane chemistry but they fucked up and it's just a slow-ish burn of them finding their way back to each other. I personally don't watch cop procedurals because of the copaganda and it's just not my cup of tea but the characters are surprisingly well written.

Oh yes I did watch several videos of Lucy and Kate from NCIS Hawaii when I heard there was a wlw couple in it 👀 I did like their story and it looked like a good written one so I’m glad you feel the same ! I probably should watch it for real now haha !

Never heard about the other show tho ! But that’s also why I rarely watch Netflix shows except when I know it’s a mini series, cause they just cancel so many shows with wlw rep…. It’s also why I wanted to see if they would cancel WN before maybe watching it, cause I was so sure they would not renew it. And I can’t stand watching unfinished shows like that, it’s too frustrating 😩

#just so you know I took quite powerful painkillers so I hope what I said make sense 😅#I’ll put those shows on my watchlist #thanks so much anon :)#ask #anon

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televinita · 4 years

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a saga

Me, secretly delighted by the many promising gifs of Teenage Bounty Hunters while having no idea what the show is about except that it’s rated MA: What's the catch.

Wikipedia summary: After banging up their father's truck, high school students and fraternal twins Sterling and Blair Wesley fall into bounty hunting for a grizzled bounty hunter named Bowser Simmons in order to pay for the truck's damages, and without their parents knowing.

Me: Wait they’re TWIN SISTERS??? Heck yeah, this is the content I want to see! ...what's the catch.

Variety: Formerly titled Slutty Teenage Bounty Hunters, the sisters "dive into the world of bail skipping baddies while still navigating the high stakes of teenage love and sex."

Me: and there it is.

Me, still hopefully googling: Is it maybe not as bad as it sounds tho??

Televinita's Personal Guide To Appropriateness Counsel: Although the word teenage is in Teenage Bounty Hunters, it doesn’t mean this Netflix show is appropriate for teens. While witty and humorous at times, Teenage Bounty Hunters is rated TV-MA for language, nudity, and well, everything else you can think of.

Me: consarn it

#and that's the story of why i will not be watching teenage bounty hunters #I read the further details on that guide and I am...Disgusted #NETFLIX MAKE ANOTHER SERIES THAT DOESN'T REPEL ME (YET IS LESS CLOYING THAN VIRGIN RIVER) CHALLENGE #idk why i even bother at this point. I should know that no show outside broadcast TV (frankly outside CBS is dicey) is palatable to me #teenage bounty hunters

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vodika-vibes · 11 months

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And a follow-up to the last thing I posted. As a story! With no proof-reading, because now that it's typed it's no longer my problem.

And, I'm tagging @starrrgazingbunny

CC-2224 woke slowly, though he didn't want to. He had been having a wonderful dream. He was back in the GAR, and he was sitting with his brothers, and they were just having a good time.

He fought waking up. He didn't want to go back to being a Purge Trooper. He was so tired of fighting. Of killing.

But, despite his best efforts, he found himself more and more aware. And it definitely wasn't helped by the whispering coming from nearby.

He cracked open his eyes, grateful that the lights in the room he was in had been dimmed, and he rolled his head to the side.

"Look, he's awake!" A tiny wookie said through his translator.

"Shhhh! Rhawl. We're not supposed be be in here!" A teenage boy with white hair hissed frantically, "if buir finds out-"

"He'll ground you for disobeying? You're right." A deep, familiar, achingly familiar, voice came from the doorway, "You're all supposed to be in lessons now."

The man came into view, carefully maneuvering his body so that he was between him and the children. There was the sound of a wookie grumbling, "yes, even you. I know you love your lessons." There was the sound of light feet on steel, and then the door slid shut, and the man turned.

CC-2224 felt his breath catch in his throat. Long hair pulled into a neat bun at the back of his head, an ear clasp on his left ear, and a very unique tattoo curling around his neck.

The man carefully settled in a chair and watched him thoughtfully, "Are you back with me, vod?"

"Dusk-" and oh, was that his voice?

Dusk smiled, tension draining from his body, as he leaned forward, "Do you know who you are?"

"I'm...I'm CC-222...I..." He faltered and his eyes closed, memories flooding back, "I'm Cody. I am, was, Marshal Commander. I...God's. I killed General Kenobi! I-"

"Easy there, ori'vod." Dusk reached out and grabbed his hand, "Easy. It wasn't your fault. It was Palpatine's fault. All of it." He paused, taking a moment to consider Cody's state, before he continued, "We had chips in our heads, vod. It was designed to overwrite our feel will. I had yours removed."

Cody was still. Very still. "You're chip-?"

"Never triggered. Never did figure out why it didn't. But when the order went out, I snuck away from the Guards and into the Temple." Dusk grimaced, "I walked in on the Purge, vod. I was only able to save those three...and had to kill some vod'e to do so."

"They wouldn't blame you, Dus'ika." Cody said immediately, naturally falling into his ori'vod voice. "Hell, they'd probably thank you."

"Doesn't stop the nightmares," Dusk admitted, leaning back again, "anyway, we're on my ship, the Starsinger. I'm a Bounty Hunter now. The question, vod, is what do you want to do."

That...was a good question. What did he want to do?

"I want to shoot Vader in the face." Cody said hoarsly.

"Good start, but let's try something a little less likely to end in our untimely deaths." Dusk countered sarcastically.

"...I want to be a good ba'vodu to your kids. And maybe help the rest of our vod'e?" Cody offered after a moment of thought.

Dusk stared at him intensely, and Cody was suddenly reminded of the fact that Dusk was much more dangerous than he ever acted. "Two conditions,"

"Name them."

"One. If you even look at my ad'e wrong, ori'vod or no, I will kill you." His voice was tinged with promise, and Cody was so, so proud. "And two. Tell me where Fox is."

Cody stared at him. He knew, of course, that Dusk's loyalty had been to Fox first and then the rest of the vod'e, he was surprised to hear that it remained even after all this time.

And then he grinned. Something sharp and dangerous, "Fox is still on Coruscant. You have any armor that doesn't scream Purge Trooper?"

Dusk tilted his head slightly, "You want to help?"

"Fox is my brother too."

He nodded slowly, and then a grin full of dangerous promise crossed his face, "Once you're feeling up to moving, I'll show you my armory. For now, let me get my ad'e. They've been eager to meet you."

#star wars #tcw #clone oc #captain dusk #commander cody #jedi oc #yin #marral #rhawl #droid oc #Beesix

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girlpash · 4 years

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can y’all watch teenage bounty hunters on netflix pls so they’ll renew it? I haven’t hyperfixated on a show or a ship like this since clexa and I’m chasing a high here lmao

#for anyone on the fence considering watching it do it for me🥺#for the record it is INCREDIBLY funny sharp comedy #wonderful characters that you root for. they were all extremely well cast #fun stories and plotlines. intriguing twists. ITS JUST 10 EPISODES OF A FUN TIME #teenage bounty hunters #i need to find if anyone has made on of thise why you should watch powerpoints/posts #i would make one but i dont have time this weekend but im very desperate here #anyway this show is actually in trouble of being cancelled so this is me imploring my friends and followers to watch #if you also like TBH consider doing the same!!#i woke up in the middle of the night to pee and made the mistake of looking at my phone #and now im spiralling bc everyone is talking about how the shows in danger #so excuse the desperation im a little depirious lmao #delirious sdjdjsk #ok im gonna try to go back to sleep now

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syn0vial · 3 years

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do you by any chance have any more boba facts? 🥺🥺 i love it if you would grace me with your vast boba knowledge 🥰

i’d be happy to oblige, friend! here are some more miscellaneous boba deets, courtesy of the EU/legends 😊

though there are varying portrayals by different authors re: boba’s take on collateral damage, one of my favorites comes from one of the earliest boba fett stories. in it, boba is hunting han solo (of course) some time after the events of the original trilogy, but during the mission, things go awry and a civilian character is mortally wounded by a blaster bolt meant for han. boba, who in this timeline has never killed the wrong target before, proceeds to let han solo run away so he can check on the woman and, once he realizes that she’s too far gone to save, he administers something to ease her passing and kneels by her side, holding her hand until she passes away. it’s a surprisingly tender scene and goes to show that, as ruthless as he is, boba just isn’t willing to let someone die a slow, painful, lonely death for his fuck-up.

speaking of han, as boba gets older, he becomes deeply embarrassed by his “rivalry” with solo as a young man and will insist to anyone who brings it up that it wasn’t a thing and that han just tells everyone they’re “nemeses” for the Drama Of It All

this is infinitely more hilarious if you’ve read early EU work in which boba’s rivalry with han consisted mostly of boba obsessively hunting him while han is like “GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING WEIRDO”

speaking of things boba finds embarrassing once he’s older, at one point, he’s trying to verify the legit-ness of someone claiming to be telemetric (able to read memories off of objects), so he gives the man a necklace belonging to another bounty hunter he was romantically involved in as a teenager. boba is very skeptical and not expecting much, until the man starts reciting pick-up lines boba used at the wise old age of 16

cue boba just about dying inside

like, his thoughts are literally just, “OH GOD, IT’S ALL TOO STUPID FOR HIM TO BE MAKING UP ON THE SPOT, HE FUCKING KNOWS”

honestly, they’re less pick-up lines and more just. a very sincere list of reasons he likes this other bounty hunter.

“YOU’RE GOOD AT SHOOTING THINGS. YOU’RE PRETTY??? I TRUST YOU???”

love that apparently boba’s idea of flirting as a teenager was just frantically chucking heartfelt positive statements at someone in no particular order

to his credit, it did work 😂

the lowest amount boba has ever killed someone for is three credits. this happens bc boba is trying to save the son of a clone, connor, from his creditors, initially by offering to pay his debt of half a million credits for him. when the creditor rejects boba’s offer and insists that he’d rather kill connor, connor fishes into his pockets, produces three credits, and goes, “HEY, FETT, I’LL GIVE YOU THREE CREDITS IF YOU KILL THIS ASSHOLE FOR ME” and boba’s like, “u kno what, fuck it” and does just that.

boba in the aftermath of fucking up all the shit, standing next to connor in a room full of dead bodies, including one rancor: “you owe me three credits :/”

okay, now for some cultural stuff, starting with mando’a!

though boba in the mandalorian seems at least able to read mando’a script, in the EU, he doesn’t start to learn mando’a until he’s much older

naturally, some of the first words he picks up are curse words LMAO

man is a stoic, battle-hardened bounty hunter and he still learns languages like a fucking fourth grader

aside from cusses, two words he has particular reactions to are aruetii and ba’buir

aruetii means “outsider” or “non-mandalorian” and boba feels weird and self-conscious using it bc, uh... that... probably includes him in the eyes of most mandalorians, huh?

ba’buir means “grandfather.” in the EU, he does indeed have a granddaughter who calls him this and he becomes quietly attached to the it as a term of address—to the point where, when his granddaughter refers to her grandmother as “ba’buir” as well, boba has a moment of “hey wait, that’s my word >:(”... before remembering that the word can be used for both. GENDERLESS NOUNS, BAY-BEE

boba has... mostly negative feelings about the mandalorian view of the afterlife or the manda. basically, it’s a collective consciousness of every mandalorian who has ever died. non-mandalorians don’t go there bc according to traditional mandalorian belief, non-mandalorians don’t have souls

it’s quite telling that the normally not-very-expressive boba winces when the topic of the manda is brought up. and then when he’s asked what his problem is, he has a whole list of questions/objections to the manda as a concept. what if a mandalorian doesn’t want to go to the manda? do you have to spend eternity having your consciousness mixed with real monsters like tor vizsla and montross (mandalorians associated with death watch responsible for orphaning/betraying boba’s father)? what if you have non-mandalorian family members? are they allowed to come? and if an exception is made for them, why not the rest of the galaxy?

it’s interesting, bc clearly this isn’t a subject boba doesn’t know or care about; he’s obviously thought about it a lot to have all this to say about it. honestly, i wouldn’t be surprised if he put so much thought into it bc it may very well have been the afterlife jango believed in.

also, to end on a lighter note, boba is hilariously bad at all the like... leadership parts of being mand’alor.

there’s one scene where beviin drags him to a town hall meeting and all the other mandalorians are arguing over whether they should involve themselves in the new republic’s conflicts or not and boba’s like, “wow, this is really interesting. let me just quietly listen to all these different points being raised and think about—wait, why is everyone looking at me—oh. oh shit, they’re expecting me to actually say something.”

POOR MAN JUST WANTS TO GO BACK TO THE GOOD OL’ DAYS OF HAVING FOUR LINES ACROSS THREE MOVIES. STOP EXPECTING HIM TO MAKE WORDS 😩

#captainmunroe #boba fett #just a heads-up for future information requests: don't be afraid to ask for specific topics! :)#for example: boba's views on XYZ or instances of boba + theme #i can try and do my best without guidelines but it can be hard for me to decide what people might find interesting #and i'll just fling spaghetti on the wall like i've done here :'D #i hope some of the spaghetti stuck though!

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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 3 years

Text

i’ve been seeing a post going around abt how jatp is probably cancelled but netflix knows they’ll lose money if they announce it so they just aren’t saying anything,,,,,, but like. here’s the thing.

i was in the andi mack fandom as the show 1) had the most popularity it ever had, and 2) was coming to an end, with both of these things happening at the same time. andi mack was bringing the most views (see: money) to disney channel out of any of the other shows that were airing at the time, and yet right in the middle of their third season, they announced its cancellation. while it was, naturally, upsetting to any watcher of the show, it… made sense. they’d told a lot of the story by that point, most of the loose ends had started getting tied up, and they didn’t have a lot of opportunities in what direction they could take the story next (regardless or not of whether the show was cancelled for homophobic reasons or just because it had already reached disney’s usual three season mark, ending the story where they did fit more than it would have, had they tried to continue for a fourth season).

this is not the case with jatp.

not only did the show end on a cliffhanger that needs resolving, but there are so many more directions the show can explore from where they left off. and from a viewer standpoint, any of the other shows that were cancelled after one season (teenage bounty hunters, i am not okay with this, and the society come to mind) didn’t have nearly as much fan+cast+crew support as jatp does. i never watched the society, so i don’t really have a say for that one, but for tbh and ianowt, they were both very much one-off concepts that would’ve had trouble in a second (or third) season, mostly because the entire shows were based off of concepts (bounty hunting and telekinesis, respectively) rather than plots. ianowt ended on a cliffhanger, technically, but really it was resolved in the final episode with the intro and outro shots being the same. obviously, more could’ve been done with it, but like,,,, how much more, especially with the success of stranger things, where a character there has nearly the exact same powers as the main in ianowt?

jatp is lucky enough that on the off chance it is cancelled, it still has a mostly resolved ending (ignoring the last scene). but there are still so many things left unanswered if you think a bit beyond what the story tells you— why did julie’s hug work? does her mom have anything to do with it? what will caleb do next? is willie alright? are the boys alive or just saved? will ray ever find out? when a show ends, especially if it’s cancelled, there are usually some questions, but it is never nearly that open ended. it’s why i figured a show like no good nick would get renewed for a second season, but not a third; because of how the seasons ended.

also, i’ve never heard of any of netflix’s most popular shows getting their own book adaptation, let alone three of them. ignoring the fact that the synopsis for whatever happens literally said that the events in that book would lead into a second season, netflix knows the show is popular. they know the show would make them more money. they have no reason to cancel it other than their own conservative reasons, and in the case that happens, there is likely enough fan support to get it picked up somewhere else, especially with kenny fucking ortega as a director.

it is INCREDIBLY likely that the only reason they haven’t renewed it yet is because of border restrictions. with such large productions in the show, making sure that every one can cross the border into vancouver for filming can be very difficult given all of the covid protocols that need to take place (rightfully so). they likely also can’t risk filming big production numbers like tosoh even if everyone is fully vaccinated, just because of the number of people. hell, the dining hall i eat at requires proof of vaccination and we’re still only allowed to sit three people to a table. once they get more confirmation that things can be done safely, we’ll be more likely to hear news about a renewal.

if anyone else has any thoughts on this please feel free to share, i’m just trying to remain hopeful and make sense out of all of it

#jatp #julie and the phantoms

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?��

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #reader insert #we are one when together #fics

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