#din is the only thing keeping them from fighting every five seconds | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dameronology · 3 years

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rescuer {din djarin}

summary: din djarin rescued you - and then you rescued him {for @drinksomecoco !! i hope u enjoy}

warnings: brief mentions of torture, swearing

this is like....4k words?? it got a little out of hand, i won't lie to u.

- jazz xx

It wasn’t often that The Mandalorian found himself becoming attached to bounties.

Twice. He’d done it twice.

The first time, he swore to himself that it would be the last. Adopting his little green surrogate...frog? Son?

Okay, adopting his little green surrogate Grogu had brought enough tension into his life. It had gotten him back onto the radars of both the Empire and the New Republic; thrown him into some weird form of fatherhood that he wasn’t quite ready for and tipped his entire way of life upside down. Despite all that, he never stopped to question if all the exhaustion was more trouble than it was worth, because he loved his kid. Completely and entirely in ways that no parenting book or fairytale could ever quite describe. It was an intense form of love and attachment - and Din knew it was going to hurt when he would eventually have to return the Child to his own people. That was a little far off though, because he couldn’t investigate any further til he had the means to do so. Money and resources weren’t limitless and even The Mandalorian had to find means to an end.

Going back to the Bounty Hunter’s Guild wasn’t ideal, especially not with the kid in tow - but did he have any other way? Din didn’t know any other way of life, let alone another way of earning money. Besides, he figured it would only be a quick few months. A couple jobs here and there until he had enough in savings to travel far enough to find where Grogu really came from.

But it was two bounties; two bounties that he would find himself becoming attached to. Grogu was the only one.

It was through that decision to return to the Guild that Din Djarin would find himself stumbling across the next one. He was offered five pucks - the first four were easy. Standard jobs, really. Runaway criminals and Imps who had crossed people so many times that trying to work out their loyalty was head-ache inducing. He found them all in a matter of days, really. They were good at hiding but it didn’t count for much when The Mandalorian was good at finding.

Then there was you; the fifth puck. The one he thought was going to be the easiest.

Finding you wasn’t a problem. Tucked away in a corner of rural Tatooine - maybe twenty, twenty five minutes shy of Mos Eisley - you were hiding in plain sight. It would have been enough to protect you from anyone else but Din was an unrelenting expert in finding those who didn’t want to be found.

He never quite knew what to expect when he closed in on a bounty. Sometimes they ran and sometimes they hid. A few of them had tried to appeal to his humanity; to try and connect with the man they hoped was behind the mask. Because aside from the husky voice that occasionally escaped the helmet, there was no proof that The Mandalorian was anything other than a very convincing droid. That was, until, someone would lay a hand on his son or ship and suddenly, a wave of pure human rage would burst out from beneath the beskar.

You couldn’t have hidden from him or run away, even if you wanted to. Not because you were scared, but because you were chained up; wrists and ankles in shackles, keeping you tied to the walls of a filthy docking bay. From the sand piled around your feet, it was clear that you had tried to kick up a fuss at some point.

But based on the way that you looked at him - with tired eyes and a hopeless expression - that made Din realise: you’d lost the will to fight. He knew that you weren’t going to wriggle away or try to engage in combat.

“Are you…” The Mandalorian trailed off. “Are you alone?”

“Probably,” your eyes flicked up from the ground, unknowingly capturing his gaze. “I think I’ve been left for dead.”

He sighed. “I’m looking for a...Kan Durant. Is he here?”

“No,” you shot back. “He left me here for dead about a week ago. Probably knew that a bounty hunter was going to come after him at some point.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“I’m chained up,” you said. “Isn’t the answer to your question a little axiomatic?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But if you know anything, it might be helpful.”

“Try Corellia,” you muttered.

Corellia. That was...doable. Not too far and not too hard to search. That would be his fifth and final puck and then Din could set off for the sunset in search of his kid’s home planet. That’s what this whole thing had been about.

But...you. You’d been left for dead - and based on the bruises around your eyes and on your limbs, that was the least of what you’d gone through recently. What kind of man would it make him if he left you? A fucking awful one, obviously, but what was he supposed to do?

Din slowly leant down, pulling a thin tool from his belt. He fiddled around with your cuffs for a moment, until there was a low hiss. They fell from your hands and onto the sandy ground - he expected you to get up, or to run, or do anything but sit there and stare at him with gaunt eyes. Maybe it was foolish of him to think that merely freeing you of your restraints was doing his part for the greater good.

“Is there anywhere around here where you can go?” he asked. “An inn? A cantina?”

You snorted. “No. I’ll die.”

“You can get food and medicine out there.”

“Mos Eisley is swarming with Durant’s men,” you explained. “The minute I step foot in any town or port here, they’ll know.”

Maybe being with Grogu had softened him, or maybe The Mandalorian genuinely couldn’t find it himself to leave you. But, he found himself doing the unthinkable: sticking his hand out to you, lifting you up, and leading you out of the docking bay and back towards his ship. He didn’t know what he was going to do or how he was going to do it but really, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. His main focus had been on keeping you alive until you were within the safety of the Crest.

You stumbled slightly when he put you down, tripping and falling towards the control panel to shut the loading bay doors. At least you were intuitive.

With that, you fell back to the ground. It was becoming clearer and clearer that you were in a bit of a state - how long did you say it had been? A week since Durant had left - so that was at least seven days without proper food or water. It was a miracle you were alive. Din had got there just in time.

“Why are you helping me?” you asked. “What do you want?”

He glanced over in your direction. “I don’t want anything.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you shot back.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there,” Din replied. He paused for a moment, before turning to face you. “I’ve heard Durant’s name before. I know what he does to people.”

“Aren’t you more worried about finding him and getting the bounty?” you pushed.

Truth be told, Din wasn’t that bothered. He had enough money from the last four pucks to get him where he needed to be. The fifth had just been a little extra, so he had an easier time letting go of it. He certainly wasn’t the only hunter going after Durant’s ass and worst case scenario, Karga would give him a little bit of shit for not completing the job. All of that was a lot more manageable than living with the guilt of leaving you in the dark to die.

“Someone else will get him. I’m sure.” Din muttered. He reached for a ration pack stored away on a shelf and tossed it in your direction. “You should eat this. I’ll get us in the air and find some bacta-”

“- you really don’t need to,” you cut him off.

“Eat,” he pushed again. “You’re weak. You’ll need it.”

Over the next few days, you would come to find that forceful-but-caring demands were The Mandalorian’s main language.

He didn’t talk much - or at all really. He didn’t need to, not when you kept to yourself on the lower deck of the ship whilst he dealt with everything else. He didn’t seem to mind that you weren’t helping; after all, you’d been in a weak state when Din had found you and standing up had been hard, let alone maneuvering around the flying hunk of metal. You were beginning to feel a little more spry, thanks to the food, water and bactaspray. The combination was hardly an elixir of life but you’d found yourself feeling a little more human.

Sleep was the hard one. A combination of confusion - at the situation, at Din, at where you were going - and nightmares made it hard. Every time you closed your eyes, you found yourself hurtling back in time to when Durant had first captured you. You’d been a test dummy for all his weapons and experiments and really, you were just lucky to be alive and in one piece. It didn’t count for much though, not when you couldn’t get a single fucking second of shut eye.

You would have been a fool to think that Din hadn’t picked up on it.

He was observational by nature and even more so by craft. A man who was constantly looking over his shoulder and straight ahead; a warrior who had been raised to keep a weapon by his side at all times. Of course he was going to notice your insomnia, and the way your eyes seemed even more sunken and dull than when he’d first found you.

You were sitting in the hull when he approached you. Not a lot had been said, other than the occasional eat this or put this on your bruises. Again - all a little forceful, but with a sense of genuinity behind the words. You still had a hard time believing that he was legitimately just a man who wanted to help you.

“I find that noise helps.”

You glanced up at him. “I’m sorry?”

He cleared his throat. “When I can’t sleep, and when I have nightmares, I find that being in a room with white noise helps distract my brain.”

“Oh, right,” you gave him a small nod. “I s’pose it is pretty quiet down here.”

“It’s noisier up there in the cockpit,” he replied. “We’re going to be in hyperspace for a while so if you want to get some sleep, I’ll stay down here.”

“Thank you.”

For the first time in days, you finally showed a glimmer of emotion. It was just a smile - and one he figured was a forced one - but still, it was a good sign.

Din’s eyes followed you as you stood up, heading for the ladder up to the cockpit. You stopped in front of it for a moment, palms wrapping around one of the rungs. At first, he thought you were just pondering, or taking a moment to rethink your actions, but then a light bulb went off in his head. You were too weak.

Moving slowly, The Mandalorian positioned himself behind you.

“Is it okay if I put them here?” he quietly asked, large, gloved hands hovering over the side of your hips.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied. “Thank you.”

With Din’s support, you were able to grab onto the hatch above and pull yourself up, boots hitting the ground of the cockpit. He followed you up, guiding you over to one of the pilot’s chairs. The lights of hyperspace were flashing by, illuminating the entire room in a white-gold glow. It felt odd to be up here after so many days of confining yourself just to the hull - forbidden, even with the invite from The Mandalorian himself.

“How did you know that I get nightmares?” you asked, turning around to face him.

The helmet tilted slightly. “I get them too.”

“I’m sorry,” you softly sighed. “Thank you again for your help.”

“It’s okay,” Din brushed it off as though it were nothing. “We have about four hours til our next stop. I’ll wake you up before we get there.”

“Is that where I get off?” you asked.

“No,” he firmly replied. “It’s not safe there either.”

You had more questions that you wanted to ask - now more than ever that he was finally talking - but you were far too exhausted to even try. Once you’d fallen back against the chair and been handed a blanket out of nowhere, the noise of the surrounding machines practically dragged you out of consciousness.

---

One question you had wanted to ask Din had been about the duration of your stay.

How long were you supposed to stay on board? How long did he want you there?

You were almost scared to ask, for fear of the answer. After all, you barely knew him. He could get up at any moment and demand that you left, and you wouldn’t have been able to argue. All of this - this looking after you, this roof over your head, this care - felt too good to be true. Like it was all part of some elaborate ruse.

But it was funny, because you were even more scared that it wasn’t. If Din - or The Mandalorian, as you knew him - was truly just a nice person with pure intentions, then that was about to be dangerous territory for you. The minute that you started trusting him, and the minute you started to see him as someone who could protect you, would spell trouble. You had never intended to become attached, but it was only natural. You hadn’t had a single person look out for you - not once in your life.

Every time he made you food, or helped you up into the cockpit, you felt yourself slipping that way. A six-foot pile of beskar should not have been a sign of comfort, but the helmet came to symbolise...something. You didn’t know what. Attachment, maybe? A little inkling of affection for whoever the hell was below those inches of steel?

A few weeks passed and the tension slowly began to falter. It was probably the proximity more than anything, but the time proved to you more than anything that Din was genuine. He was helping you because he wanted to - there was no personal gain for him, nor monetary. He actually, honestly just wanted to do good.

And doing good, he was. Whilst he still kept his distance, he looked after you. He made sure that you ate enough to recover from your periods of deprivation and once a day, he would clear out of the cockpit for you to get some rest. He still helped you up the ladder every time -and even when you told him you were strong enough, he still stood back and watched just to make sure.

Because, truthfully, The Mandalorian was beginning to see something in you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but he was intrigued by the way you were slowly beginning to show him parts of yourself. Where your eyes had once been gaunt and lifeless, they now had a spark in them. You were quiet when you’d met, but now you spoke to the kid and you hummed to yourself. It was like the life that was sucked out of you was slowly being breathed back in, day by day and bit by bit.

“Do you wanna get some sleep?” Din asked you one day.

“Yeah, sure,” you glanced up at the Child, giving him a small smile. “When did you last sleep, Mando?”

Another helmet tilt. “I get enough sleep.”

“I don’t believe you,” you thinned your eyes at him.

The Mandalorian sighed slightly - normally, that would have been a sign to literally anyone else to drop it. But with you? Nope. You saw that as a sign of progress; that the little, tiny display of emotion meant you were beginning to chip past those godforsaken layers of beskar.

“I get nightmares about Durant,” you continued. “Every time I panic and wake up in a cold sweat, I remind myself that I’m safe, because I know that you and the kid are here.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You can tell me anything and I promise I won’t judge you. You’ve never judged me.”

He pondered for a moment, before releasing another deep breath. “I can’t sleep alone.”

“Really?”

“Last time I did, I woke up and my parents were gone,” Din explained. “So I wait til the kid wants to go to sleep and I just go with him, so that I’m not alone.”

Your heart dropped a little at that - partially because he’d opened up to you, but also because the Child rarely ever slept. If Din only ever waited around for their exhaustion to coincide, it must have been months since he’d last got a decent night’s rest. It was the least he deserved.

Nodding, you stuck your hand out towards him. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna sleep and so are you,” you replied. “You need it and if I’ve done everything that you’ve instructed so far, I think I should have the same in return.”

Din didn’t want to admit it to himself at first.

It being multiple things: the fact you were helping him, the fact your presence on his ship had made the place seem better, the fact that his heart skipped a beat every time you brushed past him.

Bar his surrogate son, Din had never been close with anyone before. He’d never even slept in the same goddamn room as anyone else, even. That was a fucking mammoth step for him, but when you took his hand? It felt like a baby step. Just a tiny hop from A to B. Not a massive milestone, or a moment of personal progress. You had made it seem so simple.

Maybe that was it.

You never over-complicated anything. Your intentions were always clear and simple - there was no moral ambiguity, no moments where Din had to question whether or not he could well and truly trust you. He just knew. It was funny, because it was the exact same situation you’d had with him - questioning why he was helping you, trying to work out what he wanted. This whole time, Din had been helping you solely because he thought it was the right thing and it’s what you were doing for him too.

Din liked when you sat close to him. There was a little wave of warmth he felt every time you shuffled a bit nearer to him when you both crashed on the floor of the cockpit, and a tiny swarm of butterflies that flew through him when you stuck by his side in busy towns and cities. It was clear that you found comfort in him after so many years of going without it.

In turn, he found comfort in you. Not just in the way you unintentionally looked after him, but just...everything. Your presence had been a little odd on the Crest at first, but now it felt weird to be without it. Hearing you single quietly in the shower and have one-sided conversations with the Child filled a hole in his life that he hadn’t even realised had been there.

It was as though he’d had a missing puzzle piece his entire life; a gap between all the interconnected parts that hadn’t been integral, but certainly inconvenient. And now that it was filled, he could take a step back and finally look at the bigger picture that had been forming. All the pieces were finally there - you and the kid and whatever odd family unit that made you - and the galaxy didn’t seem so nonsensical anymore.

A little over two months after he first found you, word got around that Durant had finally been captured. Not by Din, but that hadn’t mattered - because killing the man who had hurt you, even after everything, would never amount to everything he’d done for you.

The relief didn’t last long for you, though - because as soon as you realised you no longer had a reason to hide, it dawned on you that you no longer had a reason to stay with Din. Or, at least not one you were willing to share with Din. Begging to let you stay just for the sake of being near him didn’t seem like a very convincing argument - at least not from where you were standing.

But from where Din was standing, it was a little different. You were part of his life now, even if you had no idea. That wasn’t your fault, though. He wasn’t exactly the best at vocalising it. Admitting it to himself had been hard enough, let alone to you.

“So,” you spoke softly, clearing your throat. “I suppose you’ll drop me off at the next planet?”

You were both sitting in the cock-pit; the Child was asleep downstairs and the Crest was soaring through the last stretch of hyperspace before Nevarro.

Din didn’t want to drop you off. He didn’t want his ship to be silent all over again or to sleep without you by his side. The thought alone of not having you around anymore was enough to make him a little watery-eyed beneath his beskar barrier. You’d grown on him, and in return, he’d kind of, accidentally fallen in love with you.

“You don’t have to go,” he said.

You peered over at him. “If you can think of a reason for me to stay aboard, please do let me know.”

“I want you to stay,” Din replied. He gently reached out a hand and took it in his - it was the first time that he’d given you such a vast gesture. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “It is.”

Staying aboard the Razor Crest was one of the best decisions you’d ever made.

Not only because it meant you were well and truly safe, but because Din’s direct request was a sign to you that you weren’t imagining things. Whatever attachment you felt to him, he felt it too - but it ran deeper than that. There was a mutual concern and respect for one another. Something born of two lifetimes spent on their own, finally coming together in one.

Things had been a little slow before then; the way that you danced around each other, like two magnets that were meant to come together - just with a little hesitancy. There had been a lot of late nights and long trains of thought about the signals that the other was giving off; about whether you’d misinterpreted the way his hands lingered over yours, or the way you’d practically passed out on his shoulder.

But, after that - after Din had openly asked you to stay, and you’d happily agreed, things began to move a little faster. Where you’d once been slowly walking down that hill and towards each other, you were now slipping, tripping and falling.

With each passing night, you inched closer towards each other. God forbid you ever found out, but Din even found himself pushing the pilot’s chairs closer to each other when you weren’t in the room, just so he could properly feel you next to him when you dozed off. He enjoyed your presence at the best of times but it was those dark, quiet moments when he genuinely and fully needed you.

It came to a head one night when you’d laid down with the Child beside you - not upstairs in the cockpit, but in the tiny cot in the hull of the ship.

There wasn’t room for one person, let alone one person and a tiny creature. Even worse, for two people - one in a beskar suit - and the creature. It just didn’t work. It shouldn’t have worked.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and the moment that Din saw you dead to the world with the Child in your arms, he was certain that he was going to make it work. Maybe with a bit of reshuffling there, and if he just moved the kid here - and that was when Grogu bit him pretty hard on the finger.

Disregarding his reshuffling plan, he knew there was only one option left.

It was something he’d never dreamt of doing before, simply for how terrifying and exposing it was - but he took one glance at you, and once glance at his kid, and he knew it was going to be worth it in the long run. It was merely a necessary step to getting closer to you - physically, mentally emotionally.

You stirred slightly at the sound of metal clattering to the floor - not enough to wake up, but enough to be a little more aware of the room around you. A moment later, there was a quiet hiss, and then everything went black.

In your sleepy state, your brain reacted a little slowly - but then the mattress beneath you dipped, and you felt someone’s skin against yours. Not just skin, but stubble against the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to it, and warm fingers tangling with yours.

“The armour,” you murmured. “You took it off.”

“It was the only way,” he softly replied. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” you let out a sleepy hum. “Good night…”

“Din,” he quietly said.

“Good night, Din.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin reader insert #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian reader insert #mandalorian imagines #star wars reader insert #star wars fan fiction #star wars x you #star wars imagines

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

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The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

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bbysamu · 3 years

Text

It Ain’t Me - Part IV

Featuring: KUROO Tetsurou x you ; AKAASHI Keiji x you

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,249

Warning: mentions of alcohol and drinking

Now Playing: It Ain’t Me by Kygo & Selena Gomez

✎ Preview: Kuroo continues to destroy his own life as he immerses himself in alcohol and women, desperately using them to drown you out. But he should’ve known about the consequences of his action.

Ch. I

Ch. II

Ch. III

Ch. IV

Ch. V

Epilogue

a/n: no excessive drinking please, don’t hinder your brain and health.

Falling in love wasn’t like those Nicholas Sparks movies. Falling in love for Akaashi Keiji was natural, like breathing, something you don’t even notice unless you really pay attention. Akaashi Keiji has been in love with you since 14, and he didn’t even notice until the day you called him, squealing, “guess who just asked me out?”

Akaashi Keiji watched as you fall deeper in love with Kuroo Tetsurou. Of course he was upset, but watching his best friend so happily in love made him smile. After all, isn’t love wanting the love of your life to be happy?

Yet, even after all these years, the little sharp pain in his heart never dulled once as you send him cute pictures of you and Kuroo out on dates, listening to you ramble about your fights, his romantic gestures etc...

So when you called him, voice filled with so much pain, “he cheated on me”, Akaashi Keiji ran like never before.

He opened the door with ease, only to see you so small, face full of angry tears that was released into a sob when he wraps you around his arms.

Keiji has never felt so much urge to punch someone in the face when Kuroo knelt in front of you begging for forgiveness. And though he’d never admit it, shutting the door in Kuroo’s face felt so good.

The first few months of healing was a blur to you. All you could clearly remember were two things, the overwhelming pain whenever you think of Kuroo and how sweet and thoughtful Akaashi was.

Slowly, bit by bit, words after words, hugs of immeasurable warmth, Akaashi pieced together your heart, stitching it back together with his love.

Akaashi watched you fall in love with him the same way he did with you, like breathing. So he didn’t say anything, he wanted it to be something you realized on your own.

It took you six months to realize you were in love with Akaashi Keiji.

Six months have passed since the Kuroo incident, it was another overtime, the boss finally letting you go. You walked out the company door, shivering slightly at the cold breeze.

“Y/n!” A familiar figure calls out. You were surprised to see Akaashi waiting for you with hot chocolates in hand.

“what are you doing here?” You asked him, heart warmed as he hands you the hot drink.

“Since you texted you’d be working late again today, I wanted to drop these off for you as a little boost of energy.”

“well great timing, the boss finally let me go. Wanna grab some late din din?”

Akaashi looks down at you, smiling sweetly, “sure, take out at yours?”

“and we can watch that new BNHA movie?” you asked, eyes gleaming with hope.

“sure.” He laughs, watching you do your little happy dance.

Back at home, Akaashi watches as you happily slurp your noodle, hitting his arms whenever an exciting part comes on. When the movie finally finishes, you leaned back against the sofa, watching Akaashi clean up the bowls and moving to the kitchen.

You watched as the black-haired setter move around in your kitchen, cleaning up the takeout boxes and realized how he fits so perfectly in your home, in your life...in your heart.

You walked over to him, heart thumping in your ears. He jumped slightly as your wrapped your arms around his waist, your face on his back.

“Y/n? what are you doing?”

You said muffled something that he couldn’t quite catch.

“what? you’re gonna have to speak louder.” He tries to turn around, but you grabbed onto the hem of his tshirt, stopping him.

“Don’t turn around, I don’t think I can say it if you’re looking at me.”

Akaashi’s heart was pounding as he anticipated your next words.

“I...I think I like you Keiji.”

He whirls around, “you think?”

You look down embarrassed, “I mean, I like you Keiji.”

He lifts you up by the chin, so he could look into your eyes.

“you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

He leans in and kisses you with so much passion and love, you realized he must have been in love with you after all this time. So you kiss him back, head and heart finally devoid of Kuroo Tetsurou.

A few weeks have passed since his disastrous encounter with you. Kuroo lies in bed and glares up at the ceiling.

“Get up!”

“what do you want Kenma?”

Kenma pushes open the door, “it’s been two whole months and I'm sick of you destroying your life. It’s literally been clubs this entire time and strangers walking in and out of my house every morning. Also your room reeks of alcohol. If you keep this up, I’ll kick you out for reals.”

Kuroo knew Kenma was right, “I just...I just can’t find the motivation to live without Y/n.”

“Shut up already. After your second screw-up, I don’t even feel sympathy for you anymore. Get up. We’re going to lunch, you’re buying.”

Kuroo pushes himself off the bed. His phone buzzes, a unknown number flashes across his screen.

“aren’t you going to pick that up?”

“nah”.

Halfway across town, Akaashi unwraps himself from you.

“Keij, five more minutes!”

“darling, you said that ten minutes ago.”

You smiled, “I'm just tired, can’t we nap for bit longer please?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes at you playfully, “normally I’d say yes, but we actually have a reservation for lunch today. We’re meeting Bokuto and his girlfriend, remember?”

“oh yeah. It’ll be nice to see them again.”

Akaashi pulls you out of bed, kissing you on the forehead before getting ready himself.

Bokuto’s loud “hey hey hey” could be heard miles away. You and Akaashi laughs as Bokuto’s girlfriend reminds him to be quieter.

As the four of you walk into the restaurant, you come face to face with a familiar figure.

Out of all the places, you just had to run into Kuroo here.

Kuroo looks at you in shock, glancing back and forth between you and Akaashi, at his arms wrapped around your waist and the way you instinctively shifted closer to him when you saw Kuroo.

Kenma was the one to break the awkward silence, “Hey Y/n! Good to see you. How’ve you been?”

You smiled at Kenma, grateful for his presence, “Hey Kenma! It’s been a while. I’ve been good. How are you? How’s the company?”

Kuroo uses this chance to take a good look at you. Your hair have grown out longer now, curled beautifully. He notices the way your eyes shine brighter, Akaashi must’ve been treating you right. His eyes meets Akaashi’s, before clearing his throat and turning away.

“Anyhow, we’ve got to get to lunch now. I’ll see you around Kenma.”

You and Akaashi walk towards your table, not even bothering to spare Kuroo a glance.

Kuroo trails behind Kenma out of the restaurant, his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Hey Kenma, I’m just gonna take this call real quick.”

Pulling out his phone, Kuroo sees the unknown number from this morning.

“Hello?”

“Hey Kuroo. It’s me, Aika. Do you have time right now? I need to tell you something.”

Kuroo searches his brain for an Aika, annoyed that he had given a one-night stand his number. “Sorry but I'm a little busy right now. Can’t you say this over the phone?”

He hears shuffling behind her, “okay um...”

Kuroo catches Kenma’s eyes, a look of panic in them.

“what did you say?”

“I’m pregnant.”

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jasonscaramel · 3 years

Text

Positions - The Mandalorian

Din Djarin x unnamed female reader (credit to gif maker up there I just work here)

warnings include: i was inspired by ariana grande’s new album, i also haven’t written in forever (much less for din—that’s never), 2.9k words, heterosexual sex, slight cockwarming, slight dom!din (but that’s all you’ll ever get from me)

author’s note before we get started: i have more of these planned so if you’re interested in being tagged let me know! also it has been forever since I've written so if you like it pls let me know

Being a multi-faceted human being isn’t that difficult, especially growing up in the middle of an endless galaxy. You were taught many valuable lessons growing up: cooking, farming, smuggling, hand to hand combat—the necessities to keep you alive. So upon your first ever meeting with a Mandalorian, it was no shock that he deemed you useful almost straight away.

Growing up with defected Imperial parents, the intelligence training you received from your paranoid parents was better than the Empire could offer. You were sneaky, sly, and downright deceptive when you needed to be. Talking a bounty into walking straight into their death was easy, as was putting them down yourself if you needed to.

You’re also a damn good babysitter. And kids love you.

All around, it was a no brainer for Din—after promising you passage to a nearby planet that ended up being a six month journey—to keep you on board. You were all attached to each other at that point, especially the kid. He found maternal energy quite soothing, and even if you weren’t his mother, it seemed as though having a woman to counteract all the Boy going on eased the little one’s mind.

So now you’re here, the kid strapped to your chest and Din by your side, the only thing in your way of the Razor Crest is the man holding a knife to your throat. He’s trying, and failing, to get ahold of the kid in the process. Din pulls out his blaster in a move to protect the both of you, and the knife shoves further in your neck.

“Come any closer and they’re dead!” The man shouts in your ear, and a squeal comes from the makeshift baby carrier on your chest. You look at Din, hoping desperately he’s making eye contact with you. You give him a single nod, then stomp on the man’s foot as hard as you can, moving to grab the knife from your pocket. The blade at your throat is piercing, but you ignore it to stab the knife into the man’s thigh. He finally pulls away in agony as you rip it out, only to shove it into his throat seconds later. He hits the ground with a thump, choking on blood, and the kid lets out a relieved huff.

“Let’s go, it’s freezing,” you say as your teeth chatter, wrapping your arms the kid and snuggling for dear life. You can feel the sticky warm blood trickling ever so slowly down your neck, but the wound doesn’t hurt.

Upon entering the Razor Crest and shutting the hatch, Din turns his attention to you. “Does it hurt?”

You give a slight chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Din. You get us in hyperspace, I’ll put the kid to bed and get cleaned up.” You left no room for arguments as you made your way over to the baby’s pram and began unraveling him from your chest. You noticed Din hadn’t moved yet, but you didn’t really mind. He’s very protective of his son, so it doesn’t affect you to have him watch you coddle the kid, coo at him and sing him to sleep, if only it puts Din’s mind a little more at ease. With the lives you live, it’s hard for either of you to have trust in anyone. The only way is to prove yourself, and you intend to do it every day. Maybe for a little more than trust, but hey, you’re not complaining having Din stare at you all the time.

By the time the kid is ready to lay down, the ship is up and beginning its course. You shut the little guy in on himself so nothing bothers him and head to the refresher. Looking in the mirror, you have a sizable cut on your throat, but it’s only surface damage. You wipe off the blood, put on the first antiseptic you can find and head out. Apart from that little scuffle, your day had been relatively uneventful. You stopped on this planet to get groceries and fuel, for maker’s sake.

Settling into the co-pilot’s seat, you turn to look at Din and find him already facing you. You give him a soft smile, reaching over and giving him three light taps on the beskar on his thigh. It was something you always did; it always comforted him, even though he never really knew what you meant by it. “You alright?” He sounds genuinely worried, and you imagine if you could see his face his brows would be furrowed in the cutest expression.

“Definitely,” you reassure him, lifting your head to expose the cut a bit more. “It’s superficial, no harm done.” You drop your head to give him a bigger smile for added convincing. “What’s on your mind?” You know he’s concerned, but there’s something else underneath it. There always has been something else with you two. It lies beneath every conversation, making its way in through comfortable silences and soft touches. It pulls at your heartstrings at the oddest of moments, like when he’s cleaning up spit up with his cape or gazing out at the stars in hyperspace when he thinks you’re not there.

“I just don’t like to see you hurt, is all. But you handle yourself well, so it’s hard to worry for too long.” You hear his tone get lighter as he finishes his short explanation, giving you a slight chuckle when he’s finished. You return it easily.

“Please, you have nothing to worry about. As long as I have you as back up, I can do anything.” It started as a simple sentence, but the longer your silence sat the deeper the meaning became. Neither of you broke the spell, just stared at the general direction of each other’s faces and hoping you were making eye contact. It made you giggle, and when he cocked his head to the side, you just shook yours.

“Well, I wa-“ Din was interrupted by a beep on your wrist, indicating the child had been moving around. You turned on the speaker and gave him soft reassurances and cooed a small lullaby.

You didn’t hear anything after that, so you returned your attention back to him. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” You pulled your sleeve over the watch to show you were giving your undivided attention.

The words that come out of his mouth are so quiet you hardly hear them. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

A smile breaks out on your face, tears unwillingly welling in your eyes. “Me too, Din. Me too. I-“ You stopped yourself immediately. What were you going to say? Maker, you could think of a dozen. I love you. I want to touch you. I want to sit in your lap and feel safe.

You’re glad to hear the child crying from the speaker on your wrist.

It had been two months since your almost-talk with your favorite Mando. Since then, Din has parked on the edge of a rainy planet, leaving you and the child for the past week. Easy enough job, watching the ship and the kid, albeit incredibly boring. By day two you were considering what card games the child would understand. By day five, you took to cleaning the entire ship.

Din came back on day eight, the day where you decided to fix up whatever you could laying around. Granted, you’re not a mechanic, but you’ve hot wired enough ships in your day to know a thing or two. It’s basic things at first, fixing loose wires and buttons, tightening bolts. After poking around for long enough, you think you find a decent enough project in fixing the nest of wiring in the cockpit, so you get to work.

It’s not much more than busy work, so when the child started crying you let him sit in your lap and help you work. After doing more harm than good for a solid half hour, you began to try to teach him the task at hand. He couldn’t grasp the entire idea of what you were doing, but he was doing a great job at handing you the wires you needed.

It was a while before you heard the ship make it’s familiar noises as Din came onboard. You heard the bounty pleading, the whoosh of the carbonite, but you didn’t hear his footsteps come closer so you continued your task. The child was beginning to have enough, you could tell he was getting tired, but knowing Din was here you wanted to keep him up as long as possible. Give Din more of a break after working so hard.

“Hand me the blue one,” you paused, watching the child’s little hand reach for the wrong wire. “You don’t know colors, do you?” Sighing, you moved his hand a little to the left to put him back on course. “That’s blue.” He made a noise in acknowledgment, handing you the wire to clip underneath the control panel.

You heard Din finally making his way up as the child handed you another wire. “Red! Thanks, buddy.” He gave you a small, sweet sound before turning to look at Din. You followed suit, looking up from your seat on the floor. The child wrestled his way out of your arms, waddling over to his father and lifting his arms. Din picked him up, holding him tight and rocking back and forth slightly to soothe him. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, and you don’t even think he realized he was doing it.

“How’d it go? You alright?” You asked Din as you rose from the floor, dusting your hands on your pants. Giving him a once over, you don’t see any blood leaking from anywhere, so that’s a good sign.

“I’m fine, he just wasn’t that easy to track down.” Din kept his eyes on the little one, watching as his eyes drifted open and shut. He was fighting sleep, but Din could always get him to knock out quick.

“If you want to go put him down and get dried off, I’ll get us going to our next destination.” You could hear the rain beating down on the Razor Crest, so there’s no telling how much water snuck it’s way between skin and beskar. He gave you a gentle nod, turning and making his way down to the refresher. The baby’s pram was next to his cot, so he could do everything in one place.

As the ship began its kick into hyperspace, you heard Din’s heavy footsteps make their way closer to you. Turning on auto-pilot, you jump over to the co-pilot seat to give Din his back. When he sits, he double checks the coordinates, and once he realizes you’ve done it all right, he slumps into his chair. You reach over, tapping three times on his thigh.

“I can take care of this if you want to sleep,” your voice was soft, imagining him dozing off like the child was earlier under that helmet.

He tensed, shaking his head without looking at you. “I’m not tired.” His fingers twitched, reaching for a lever and gripping it hard. Reading him was always incredibly difficult, but the more you’re around him the more he lets out his emotions in physical cues. He seems frustrated, restless, was the bounty that bad?

“Then what can I do to help? You seem... tense.” The sharp intake of air was audible through the helmet, so you followed your gut and placed your hand on his thigh.

“Cyar’ika...” his voice trails off, as tense as his body. He’d never called you anything but your name, especially not something this soft, and you found yourself moving to situate on your knees, in between Din’s. Looking up at him, you could see the beskar of his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. You ran your hands up and down his thighs, gazing up into—what you hoped were—his eyes.

“Is this okay?”

He cleared his throat, nodding his head. “More than.” After you hear those beautiful, consenting words, you immediately get to work. You reach for the waistband of everything you could get your hands around and pull. Luckily, Din helps you and before you know it his pants around his ankles and his cock is right at eye level. You take a moment, eyes widening once you finally realize where you’re trying to fit that thing. Din shifts in his seat with nervous energy, and you remember he can actually see you, so you continue. Soft kisses up and down his thighs, the occasional bite soothed with your tongue, all while pumping him with your spit slicked hand. Making your way back up his thighs, you kiss up his balls and shaft, giving the tip a kitten lick before you take him in your mouth. The groan that emanates from the helmet drives you further, doing your best to get used to his size. You moan when he finally hits the back of your throat, and Din grabs your hair with a growl.

“I need—I want...” Din stops, panting, desperately trying to pull you off his dick by your hair. You comply, jerking him softly while looking up at him.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours. Don’t hold back.” Your voice comes out raspier than normal, and you feel Din’s cock twitch in your palm.

“I need to fuck you.” You could feel his need even through the vocoder, so you let go of his cock and—after removing your clothing from the waist down, wearing nothing but a tunic—moved to sit on his lap. Din grabbed you by your hips, pulling you close and hovering over right where he wanted to. Slowly, fingertips digging deliciously into your skin, he guides you onto the tip of his cock. You share a moan as he stretches you, slowly but surely, as you feel like you’re going to split in half.

“Kriff, Din,” you whine, finally seating your hips against his. He runs his gloved hands up and down your sides in an attempt to soothe before resuming their iron grip on your hips. “You’re huge.” You smile when you hear a deep, gritty chuckle through his helmet, and once you feel his guiding pressure on your hips, you finally begin moving.

It’s slow at first; your hands doing all the touching as you got used to one another’s bodies. As Din got more comfortable, he began thrusting into you, taking over your pace and morphing it into something faster, yet equally close. He pulls you so close your chest is tight against his, your head moving to bury itself in his neck. As his pace grew, your hands gripped onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

It was the best sensation you’d ever felt in your life. The stretch was just enough for an extra sense of pleasure, and the way he kept hitting your g-spot on the way out had you seeing stars. You press your lips against the tiniest bit of skin you can find, your fingers desperately trying to find purchase on his shoulders.

“Maker, Din, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for—it sounded like your voice came from far away, like it wasn’t you. He felt so good and strong and sturdy and his soft grunts and groans were filling your ears solely to heighten your pleasure. Everything about him made you want to never let go, keep him just like this forever.

“You going to cum for me, cyar’ika?” His tone is playful as his thrusts get rougher and out of rhythm. You know you won’t last long and neither will he.

“Need it, Din. Please.” Your sobs of pleasure are almost drowned out by the beskar on his shoulder, but he hears you—he always does. His left hand leaves your hip and trails down to where the two of you meet. He traces his fingers over your pussy, and where it meets his cock, then moves to your clit and begins his wonderful torture.

You’re so close, and he’s so good, rubbing your clit just right while his cock splits you open. You hear him breathe your name from under the helmet, followed by a string of curses you can’t begin to comprehend, and you let go, squeezing tight around him as your thighs shake. Din thrusts once, twice more before he’s buried as deep as he possibly can be and comes inside of you. The warmth inside of you makes you shiver with the contrast of the coldness of the cockpit.

The both of you are out of breath, holding onto each other tightly as you try to regain your bearings. His hands reach around you, encompassing your body in a hug as he runs his hands up and down your back. Upon realizing your legs are still shaking, he moves his soothing motions to your thighs.

“You’re amazing.” Mumbling into his neck, you grab at one of his hands and hold on for dear life. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Did I wear you out that well?” Despite the vocoder, you could hear the smile in Din’s voice. You share a laugh, and upon mellowing out, you give his hand three little squeezes. “Alright, cyar’ika, just a little bit longer.”

His gaze stays on the streams of stars as he holds your hand, rubs your back, and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. A little bit longer with you could never hurt.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader

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themandhoelorian · 3 years

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Dincember - December 4: Hot Chocolate

summary: Mando has unique ways of showing his affection for his son, like getting him hyper on too many cups of hot chocolate, but it’s only after a long day of bringing the kid down from his sugar high that you realize Mando has similar ways of showing how much he cares for you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: a caffeine addiction, sleep deprivation, the smallest sexual innuendo, Din being sweeter than hot chocolate, not super well edited ahaha

word count: 3.2k

a/n: asdfghkldf this is so so late but this week has been long and exhausting (no this fic was definitely NOT me projecting), and I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to write :/. I’m not even really sure this makes sense, but that’s kind of how my brain works when it’s exhausted, so hopefully on some level that’s accurate ahaha

***

You never understood the appeal of caf until you joined Mando’s crew.

The first time someone offered you a cup, that one day you showed up to the tiny mechanic shop of your first job with bags under your eyes, complaining about how little sleep you’d gotten the night before, you thought you’d been handed a steaming cup of motor oil by accident instead.

The dark liquid felt like lava on the roof of your mouth, leaving the taste of bitter ash on your tongue as you willed sip after sip down your throat. It did pull you out of the sleep-deprived fog, but it was more of a jolt in the opposite direction than a gentle tug, your body shooting into overdrive and hands shaking so intensely you burned your fingers on your soldering iron more times than you could count that day.

After that, you tried to stay away from caf as much as possible. No matter how little you’d slept the night before, how often you were caught staring blankly at the wall instead of untangling a mess of wires, you always refused when you saw a mug of hellfire coming your way. The acrid taste, the jitters, none of it was worth enduring when you just had to make it to closing before you could go home and sleep away the fatigue.

But now, your full time job is taking care of a child, and every night is a night with too little sleep. You spend your days trying to wrangle a warm, mischievous demon into compliance instead of just manipulating cold scraps of metal, and the kid doesn’t have “closing hours”- not with how violently he reacts to the notion of bedtime- so there’s never a sweet finish line to look forward to at the end of the day.

You thought you’d known exhaustion before, felt it heavy on your shoulders those months you worked overtime to make ends meet, but that was light years away from what you feel now. The black hole of sleep consumes you as soon as you get the chance to lie down, and when you inevitably wake to the sound of cries a few hours later, it feels like the weight of the galaxy is crushing your lungs, making it nearly impossible to crawl back out of bed.

So after just a few weeks on the Crest, after that one day when you accidentally dozed off watching the kid play and woke to find him sticking a finger into the barrel of a blaster (thankfully Mando had the sense not to keep his weapons loaded on the ship or Maker, that could’ve ended badly), you bought a caf maker on the next planet and forced yourself to chug a cup every morning since.

The taste still sucks, no matter how much cream you’ve tried mixing in, but it doesn’t make you jittery like it used to, the caffeine just enough to keep you awake, and now you don’t know how you ever took care of the little womp rat without it, especially on the days when Mando returns from his hunts and the child bursts with energy to welcome his father home.

Even if it’s only been a couple days since Mando left, you’d think he’d been gone for months with the way they act at seeing each other again. The kid’s just downright ecstatic, dropping whatever part he’s playing with as soon as he hears the hiss of the hull opening and babbling excitedly as he runs into his father’s arms. He’ll follow Mando’s every move for at least an hour after he’s returned, and sometimes, you have to literally pry him from the beskar so Mando can retreat to the cockpit and set the course to the next planet.

And then there’s Mando. He’ll look stoic as ever as he takes the child into his arms, but you can feel how eager he is to reunite with his son, his affection all but spilling out the sides of his armored chest. He’ll never admit it, of course, you’re not sure he’d even be able to find the words to say it if he wanted to, but he finds other ways to show the kid how much he missed him, how deeply he cares about his little foundling.

More often than not, those methods include spoiling the child to no end, giving into the kid’s every desire and providing him with a few moments of pure, unrestrained joy. And more often than not, you’re left with the not-so-simple task of dealing with the consequences of giving the child his every wish, easing him down from the euphoric high and re-establishing that he absolutely cannot expect that kind of indulgence with anyone but his father.

Like one time, Mando stayed awake with him all night long, conceding five more minutes every time the kid whined when he was told it was time for bed. Five minutes quickly turned into hours as they watched the bright mosaic of hyperspace go by, the kid so happy to just sit in Mando’s lap while he spoke in the soothing tones of his people’s tongue. You were only able to pull the child from his father’s arms in the early hours of the morning, all three of you only half conscious at that point, and you spent several cycles trying to get the kid (and yourself) back on a normal sleep schedule.

Or like today, when Mando returned this morning while it was still dark outside, and you woke to the smell of cocoa and peppermint what felt like mere minutes after you’d fallen asleep. When you finally pulled yourself from the bunk, you found Mando sitting next to the child as they sipped on steaming liquid, his helmet tilted back just enough for him to bring the mug to his lips.

He made the kid hot chocolate, you realized from the way the child threw back his bowl so quickly he left milky brown splotches on his face. Of course. Mando had made a habit of bringing sweets back for his son after he’d once gotten his hands on a chocolate bar you’d splurged on in the market, nearly bouncing off the walls with glee as he devoured the entire thing in seconds. That was a memorable day for all of you: the kid found his new favorite snack, Mando found another way to indulge the child, and you found out that when the kid has sugar in his system, you need caf more than water to survive the day.

So it’s no surprise that several hours and a couple more servings of hot chocolate later, long after Mando’s gone to the cockpit to fly to the next planet, you’re chasing the tiny ball of energy around the hull, running on nothing but an unhealthy amount of caf mixed with a little bit of spite, worried you might collapse before the sugar-fueled monster falls asleep.

You have half a mind to be mad at Mando for getting the kid so hyped up on the decadent drink and inevitably making your job that much harder, but you can’t get the image of them together this morning out of your head, Mando dabbing the mess from the child’s face as giggles bubbled from his tiny mouth. The memory’s shaded with the golden haze of dawn, like those dreams that feel warm and familiar, and you can feel your heart swell re-imagining that moment of perfect bliss, father and son so content just to be with each other and the sweetness in their cups.

And oh, you know you could never be upset at Mando for indulging the kid, creating those little pockets of warmth in a life filled mostly by cold, dead space, no matter how much more work it makes for you. Not when you know that he savors those moments as much as the child, that the days he’s back with his son are the only times he doesn’t have to be tough and menacing and deadly, the Crest the only place he doesn’t have to armor up his feelings just as much as his body.

You’re willing to reign in the kid, be the tough one on the ship, if it means Mando can show his son the softness that lies beneath the beskar, tuck away the sharp edges when he holds the little green menace in his lap. You’re willing to lose weeks of sleep course-correcting after each indulgence if it means he can let the honey of his love ooze thick and messy before he’s off to the next quarry and has to lock his affection behind iron walls again. You’re even willing to drink all the caf in the galaxy, let cup after cup burn bitter down your throat, if it means he can have a moment of peace sipping hot chocolate with his son at the break of dawn.

You’re more than willing, happy even, to do all that and more for him, especially if it means you can catch glimpses of the man behind the guise of “Mando” in the process, a man whose heart you’ve found yourself wondering more and more about lately, wondering if it might one day beat strong and steady for you the same way it does for the kid.

So no, you’re not mad at Mando, not in the slightest. It’s more that right now you’re worried you might not be physically able to do those things for him, the shorter than usual night of sleep catching up with you faster than you can fight it off with caf. You’re pretty sure it stopped working after your third cup anyway, the additional caffeine just making you dizzy and no more energized, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep up with the child’s pace. You’ve played peekaboo and thrown around his favorite silver ball and even tried to show him how to rewire an old generator (not that you had any luck with that), and he still hasn’t crashed from his sugar high.

You have no idea what else to do to keep the child busy, and Maker, you’re just so kriffing tired right now, so you’ve resorted to leaning against the door of the weapons closet, floating in that hazy space on the brink of consciousness, using what little of your energy remains to make sure he at least won’t get his hands on a blaster again.

You’re not even completely sure what the kid’s doing right now, just know he’s somewhere on the other side of the hull, and you can only hope that Mando doesn’t come down here and find you and the kid like this. The last thing you want to do is make him worry, doubt how much you care about his son’s well being, but it’s like he can feel your exhaustion radiating through the ship because the next thing you know, the heavy echoes of his boots fill the hull as he descends the ladder from the cockpit.

You will yourself to sit up straighter as you hear his footsteps getting louder, locate the child before Mando can, but your body is working on a little bit of a lag, and by the time you actually open your eyes, Mando’s walking past you, the child snoring softly in his arms.

Of course he fell asleep as soon as you took eyes off of him, the little monster.

Mando doesn’t say anything as he tucks the child into his makeshift bed before striding back to the other side of the hull, and some faraway part of your brain tells you to explain yourself or apologize or say kriffing anything at this point, but the inky gravity of sleep is pulling you in deeper with each passing moment, and you can’t be bothered to speak when your eyes are threatening to droop shut again.

They must have at some point because you don’t remember seeing Mando approach you, but somehow he’s in front of you now, holding a mug out in front of your face. Maker, you must’ve drifted off, long enough for him to decide you needed some help staying awake and make you a cup of caf, and as you reach for it instinctively, bringing the cup to your lips in the trained motion, you can’t decide if it’s just as a thoughtful gesture or a thinly veiled warning for you to actually do your job.

You hum as the warm liquid coats your tongue, deliciously silky and slightly sweet, and it’s only when you swallow, the milky substance gliding down your throat, that you realize-

“This isn’t caf,” you mumble, looking up from the mug to meet Mando’s gaze.

“I never said it was.”

You just stare at him wordlessly, trying to figure out why he made you hot chocolate when it’s not going to make you any more functional. You have no idea how long you sit there thinking, too far gone to even understand the concept of time right now, but it must be a while because he breaks the silence first with a sigh.

“Cyar’ika, you have to stop drinking that crap. It’s not good for you.”

“Need it,” you respond, almost too quickly considering how long it took you to answer him before. Apparently the only thing you can understand in this groggy fog is your caf addiction. “Gonna fall asleep if not.”

“You’re about to anyway. Come on, you need to sleep.”

For some reason you giggle at that, unable to stop the laughter rising through your chest. He’s right, of course, but it just seems so damn funny right now that Mando, who has told you he rarely sleeps when he’s away, who you’ve never seen rest for more than an hour at a time, is telling you that you’re the one that needs sleep.

“You sleep even less than me, Mando. You can’t talk,” you accuse.

He jerks his helmet back in something like disbelief, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“Well I’m not the one falling asleep on the floor right now,” he counters.

“That’s fair,” you admit. You take a few more sips of the hot chocolate, closing your eyes in pleasure as the warmth floods your veins. Maybe it’s just because you’re so used to the sharp bite of caf, but the sugary drink feels so good, like something comforting and familiar though you can’t quite place your finger on where you recognize it from. It’s almost like you’re wrapped up in the thickest blanket or, even better, by strong arms as you’re lulled to sleep, and you’re not sure that’s what you were thinking of, but you realize that’s exactly what you want right now.

And then your stupid, half-conscious brain decides to ask for it in the worst way possible.

“How about this, I’ll sleep if you sleep with me.”

You only catch how kriffing suggestive it sounds as the words come tumbling out of your mouth, but then all at once, you’re utterly aware of how much you’ve been embarrassing yourself. First getting caught falling asleep on the job and then accidentally making a very blunt pass at your boss, and Maker, you’re just a whole ass mess today aren’t you? Suddenly you feel very awake, your eyes going wide as you stumble over your words trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh stars, I didn’t mean sleep with me, that’s definitely not what I, well, not that I wouldn’t…no, I just- I do need sleep but so do you, even if you’re not actually falling asleep right now, so I was just gonna say that we should both-”

But then your rambling is cut off by a chuckle coming from the modulator, his voice light and playful in a way you’ve never heard before.

If you weren’t so kriffing worried about what he was thinking about you right now, you might’ve thought it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“I know what you meant, cyar’ika,” he says.

Oh, thank Maker, you think, waves of something like relief washing warm over your body. You’re not quite sure how he can understand what it is you want when you can’t even articulate it yourself, but your brain is still too foggy to care, deciding it doesn’t really matter how he knows you so well, just that he does.

Mando eases the mug from your hands, the worn leather of his gloves brushing lightly over your knuckles. You whine in protest as he steals the liquid comfort from your fingers, but it’s quickly replaced by his hands wrapping around yours to help you off the ground.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow,” he assures you, his voice as velvety as the drink he just took from your grasp. “But now, we need to sleep.”

We, not you.

You barely catch the distinction as he leads you to the bunk while his thumb rubs soothing circles on your lower back, but it just leaves you even more confused in your sleepy daze. You didn’t think he was actually going to entertain your suggestion, even if he did take it in the more innocent way, and when you crawl into the bunk and he doesn’t follow, you think maybe you just misheard him.

But as you close your eyes, your exhaustion starting to pull you away from reality again, you hear the clang of metal on metal behind you, and a gentle tap on your calf halts your descent into the stillness of sleep as Mando climbs into the bunk next to you.

It’s only after he shuts the door, when your body is pressed to his so you both fit in the tiny space, that you realize he’s taken his armor off, the first time he’s ever done so in front of you. You can’t see him at all in the darkness of the bunk, you’re not sure you could even open your eyes again at this point anyway, but even in your delirium you can grasp the weight of how vulnerable he’s making himself right now, letting you run your fingers lazily across the tight muscles of his bicep and rest your head against his broad chest.

And once again, you’re overcome by the feeling of something pleasant and vaguely familiar, your heart swelling the same way it did when you first saw Mando and the child this morning, the same warmth in your veins as the first sip of hot chocolate. You couldn’t quite place it before, but for some reason, as you listen to the way his heart beats strong and steady against you, you think you finally recognize it, the way Mando’s been making you feel all day, the reason he knew exactly what you needed before you could even realize it yourself.

It’s just a hazy flash in the moment before the black hole of sleep finally consumes you, an inkling of a breakthrough you may or not remember tomorrow, but you think this feeling, the acrid taste of caf replaced by smooth chocolate on your tongue, a strong body turned soft as it’s molded to yours, has a four letter name you thought you and Mando only saved for the child.

Maybe that’s why you’re learning to use it for each other too.

#dincember #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin #*drops this and runs away in shame*#ahaha this took so long to write and for what?#asdfghkl don't roast me too bad lmao #emi writes

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

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THE PUHON PLAYLIST.

— twenty three hearts. twenty three songs. twenty three stories.

SUMMARY | a collection of fics for all members of nct2020! all the fics will be centered around ben&ben songs, but even if you don’t know them, you can still read! the lengths may vary, and this collection is gonna be on shuffle meaning there is no order for the updates HDJFH and there’s also no order for you to read hehe i’ll be providing translations and links to the songs as well ^^

SCHEDULE | there is no schedule. puhon means “in god’s time” so i’ll also be updating and finishing this in god’s time <3

STATUS | ongoing! (3/23)

TAGLIST | send me an ask/dm if you wanna be tagged for all of the fics, or you can specify the ones that you want to be added in (please inform me if you wanna be removed too!)

MOON TAEIL | LEAVES [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | it's the first time you've met someone so carefree— so unapologetically himself. the first meeting, you were annoyed. the second, maybe he wasn't that bad. and the third, fourth, fifth came until you realize that maybe that's what you've been needing all this time. GENRE | office! au, strangers to lovers! au, angst (of course), romance, fluff, humor WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "leaves will soon grow from the bareness of trees // and all will be alright in time // from waves overgrown come the calmest of seas // and all will be alright in time // ohh you never really love someone until you learn to forgive"

SEO JOHNNY | NAKIKINIG KA BA SA AKIN? [coming soon!]

(ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?) SUMMARY | political marriages were unavoidable in royalty. it's always what's the best for the nation and not the best for you. you and johnny knew this when your engagement was announced, but one tries his best making things work out, while the other tries her best to avoid the unavoidable. GENRE | modern royal! au, arranged marriage! au, one sided e2l, romance, angst, fluff WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “sasalubungin kita sa dulo ng 'yong galit” + “nakikinig ka ba sa akin? // hindi kita gustong awayin // pareho ang ating hangarin // ang kadiliman ay basagin" ("i will meet you at the end of your anger" + "are you listening to me? // i don't wish to fight you // we both dream of the same thing")

LEE TAEYONG | PAALAM [coming soon!]

(GOODBYE) SUMMARY | there are five stages in moving on, but taeyong can’t seem to get past the first stage. that is until his friend johnny introduced him to you— self proclaimed heart doctor and a professional at helping people let go. there are also five stages in falling in love, but you found yourself falling through all five stages quicker than you’d expected, and for someone that you know that you shouldn’t be falling for. GENRE | strangers to lovers! au, a dash of unrequited love but happy ending don’t worry, angst angst angst, romance, fluff WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “ba't 'di man lang nagpaalam? // oh, 'di lang ikaw 'yung nasaktan // hindi pa ba sapat // nung binigay ko ang lahat?” + “at kahit 'di nagpaalam // 'di bale na kung nasaktan // ika'y naging sapat // kahit tinapon ang lahat // paalam” ("why didn't you even say goodbye? // you're not the only one that got hurt // was it not enough // when i gave you everything?" + "and even if you didn't say goodbye // nevermind that we've been hurt // you were enough // even if we threw everything away // goodbye")

NAKAMOTO YUTA | DOORS [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | yuta was loud, open, and unafraid to relay anything that's on his mind. you were not. quiet, reserved,and preferred to keep things to yourself, even while you two were together. people asked yuta how did the both of you manage to stay together this long— from the last year of high school until now in college, and he'd always answer with a smile that you're kind, understanding, patient, and oh wait— that's all he really knew about you, didn't he? GENRE | college! au, established relationship! au, yuta is a loud dumbass while you’re a quiet dumbass, very heartwarming growth of the relationship jdhfjd, romance, fluff, minimal angst maybe WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "i won't ever know what's on your mind // if you'll always be hidin' behind // words you never mean, just to be kind // will there ever be no more of your secret doors?"

QIAN KUN | MASYADO PANG MAAGA [coming soon!]

(TOO EARLY) SUMMARY | italy— the land of love, as they say. of course, that was only a saying, kun knew well of that. he wasn't expecting to actually fall in love on the cobblestone streets of the country, but things always happen when you least expect it. he didn't expect you to leave as quickly as you came, either. GENRE | pain just pain, tourist! au, strangers to lovers to strangers <//3, romance, angst, fluff WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “parang kay bilis ng iyong pag-alis // teka lang, teka lang, teka lang muna // sa'n nagkamali? // pwede bang bumawi?” + “na minahal kita higit pa sa sarili ko?” ("why did it take no time // for you to leave // please, please, please wait a while // where did i go wrong? // can i make up for it?" + "that i loved you more than i love myself")

KIM DOYOUNG | MITSA [coming soon!]

(CANDLE WICK) SUMMARY | once a candle wick has died, no matter how much you try to light it up, it will never ignite again. the only thing you can do is light another candle and hope it doesn't die the same way. GENRE | actor! au, fake dating! au (kind of but not quite hehe), angst very angsty, romance, fluff, light ending <33 WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “'pag wala na naman tayong nararamdaman // ay mabuti pang itigil na'ng kunwa-kunwari lang // 'pag wala na naman din itong pupuntahan // ay mabuti pang sabihin na'ng salamat // salamat” ("if we don't feel anything for each other anymore // it's better to just stop pretending // if this won't go anywhere // it's better to just say thank you, thank you")

TEN LEE | BRANCHES [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | things that are forbidden always taste the sweetest, always bring the most excitement. maybe that's why adam and eve couldn't help but eat the fruit from the garden of eden. and maybe that was also why you couldn't get enough of the boy you met at the masquerade party, and why you couldn't find it in you to let him go. GENRE | romeo and juliet! au, strangers to lovers! au, secret relationship (obviusly djf), romance, angst, suggestive, fluff, they do not die don’t worry WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "was a fire and you were gold // said we'd ignite until we're old + "you and i were meant to be // branches of different trees"

JUNG JAEHYUN | MAKE IT WITH YOU [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | jung jaehyun had always been a part of your life one way or another. from just someone you know as you pass by your high school corridors, to having the same mutual friend in college, and now possibly one of the closest people that you have in your life. he's always been there, and you didn't want him to step out of your life any time soon (and neither did he). GENRE | friends to lovers! au, mutual pining, romance, fluff, a dash of angst, suggestive WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "life can be short or long // love can be right or wrong // and if i chose the one i'd like to help me through // i'd like to make it with you"

DONG SICHENG | HUMMINGBIRD [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | summers at ten's lakehouse were always a mess. the moment he was taken in by the fresh winds of nature, he already started wondering how far south would things go. even more so when he finds that ten had invited a couple more familiar faces this year. one being far too familiar for his liking. or, wherein sicheng swears he's over you, but a humming in his head says otherwise. GENRE | exes to lovers! au (sorta, you’ll understand soon), summer! au, angst angst angst, romance, a couple of bad decisions WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "but one half of my senses // silently wishes // you were still with me" + "hummingbird // beating of your wings still echoes in my mind // hummingbird // somewhere in me singing // wish we could rewind"

KIM JUNGWOO | TALAARAWAN [coming soon!]

(DIARY) SUMMARY | jungwoo wasn't the same shy kid as he was in high school, a dreamer that could only imagine the what if's because taking the dive is terrifying. but now he's different, and he's determined to make the dreams that he wrote on the pages of his diary into reality. thank god that his high school reunion is coming soon. GENRE | some high school! au, the one that got away (oof), friends(ish?) to lovers! au, romance, humor, fluff WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “bakit hindi ko mahinto // ang pagsara ng 'yong pinto? // pakiusap, sandali lang” + “pakibalik naman, konting minutong nakaraan // 'di magawang pakawalan // talaarawan” ("why can't i stop the closing of your door? // hold on, just a moment" + "can you bring back those small moments in the past? // can't find it in my to let them go // talaarawan")

WONG YUHKEI | FALL [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | the feeling for meeting your soulmate for the first time is once in a lifetime. but with lucas, you get to experience that every single day and you're sure that you could never get enough of it. GENRE | soulmate! au, FLUFF so much fluff, romance, lucas is a cassanova but only for u, humor WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "so why don't we fall in love tonight // 'cause everything else just feels so right // and i just want to hold you tight // so why don't we just fall"

MARK LEE | BIBINGKA

SUMMARY | legend says that if you finish all nine night masses of simbang gabi, your wish will be granted. mark only hopes that it’s actually true because that’s his last and only chance in getting you to notice him (but wait— shouldn’t his wish only come true after the nine days?) GENRE | christmas! au, crush! au, lots of fluff, mark is a piner, mark is also very awkward, some filipino references and customs WARNINGS | swearing, religious themes PROMPTS | “pagdating ng ama namin, ang oras huminto // nang magkahawak ang ating mga kamay // umawit mga ulap at sabay // nagsiawit ang mga anghel sa langit” + “pero mula nu'ng unang ama namin na // ang iyong kamay ay hinawakan // 'di mo na binitawan” (the our father came, and time stopped // when our hands touched // the skies sang and the angels in heaven sang together” + “but ever since the first our father, i held your hand // and you never let go of it”)

XIAO DEJUN | GODSENT [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | an unknown illness has struck earth, eating away at a person’s memories, emotions, and feelings until a hollow husk is left. dejun’s heart falls apart when it got to you, and t’s hard to keep himself together when your memories of him and you start to fall apart. the only hope he can keep holding onto is the light in your eyes. GENRE | established relationship! au, pure angst xiaojun i’m sorry, some romance and fluff into the mix WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "god sent those eyes // to get me through the night" + "when all the memories in my head subside // you'll remain here // you'll remain dear inside"

WONG KUNHANG | LIFETIME [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | due to a mistake that he made centuries ago, hendery is forced to live through lifetimes being intertwined with you— only to see you fall in love with someone other than him in each life. never yours, but he once was. GENRE | fantasy! au?, angst (obviously), maybe romance and fluff if you squint. WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "was there a lifetime waiting for us in a world where i was yours? // was it the wrong time, what if we tried giving in a little more? // i'd spend a lifetime waiting in vain just to go back to the way we were before"

HUANG RENJUN | ROOTS [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | huang renjun. the very name brings venom to your veins. you loathed him, and he detested you. it was a mutual understanding built up on hate that went on for over ten years of your lives, but no matter how much you wanted to avoid each other, fate would still manage to spiral the both of you together. until the moment that actually happens and somehow it just feels wrong. GENRE | enemies to lovers! au, angst, romance, fluff, a bunch of emotionaly dense motherfuckers WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "lives have grown roots around each other // we both know the truth is we don't really care // to find any room to doubt each other // we're tied by the roots of whatever we shared"

LEE JENO | PAGTINGIN [coming soon!]

(HOW YOU LOOK AT ME) SUMMARY | it is an unspoken, universal rule that you shouldn't catch feelings for one of your brother's best friends. but what were you supposed to do when cupid decides to shoot you down with all of his arrows? leaving you absolutely enamored for the smiley eyed boy that you see way too often for your heart's safety. GENRE | brothers best friend, brother! renjun, years and years of pining oh my gosh, romance, fluff, some angst WARNING | tbd PROMPTS | “dami pang gustong sabihin // ngunit 'wag na lang muna // hintayin na lang ang hanging // tangayin ang salita” + “'pag nilahad ang damdamin // sana 'di magbago ang pagtingin” ("there are a lot of things that i'd like to say // but i'll keep it to myself for now // i'll just wait for the wind to carry all my thoughts aloud" + "if i lay out my feelings for you // i hope you won't change how you look at me")

LEE DONGHYUCK | KATHANG ISIP

SUMMARY | musings of the mind and heart are always dangerous— it's easy to get carried away and get lost in your made up scenarios, rose colored wishes, and fleeting daydreams of what you thought would be. that is until reality hits you like the crashing of an ocean's waves. GENRE | roommates! au, college! au, flirty donghyuck, it’s bittersweet, angst, romance, fluff WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “bawat kilig na nadarama sa tuwing hawak ang iyong kamay // ito'y maling akala, isang malaking sablay” + “pasensya ka na sa mga kathang isip kong ito // wari'y dala lang ng pagmamahal sa iyo” ("every thrill i felt while i was holding you hand // it was just a wrong assumption" + "i'm sorry for all these delusions of mine // i guess i was just carried away by my love for you")

NA JAEMIN | ARAW-ARAW

(EVERY DAY) SUMMARY | mahiwaga— someone or something that you’ll choose every single day no matter the circumstance. and for you, that was na jaemin. even if time decides to set you apart. GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, college! au, romance, slow-ish burn, fluff, humor, tiny angst, biology major jaemin and art major mc HEHE WARNINGS | excessive swearing, insecurities, some sex jokes LMAO, i project a lot in this i’m sorry PROMPTS | “kay tagal ko nang nag-iisa // and'yan ka lang pala // mahiwaga, pipiliin ka sa araw-araw // mahiwaga, ang nadarama sa 'yo'y malinaw” + “payapa sa yakap ng iyong hiwaga” (”been alone for so long // but you were just there all along // mahiwaga, i’ll choose you everyday // mahiwaga, what i feel for you is as clear as day + “at peace in the embrace of your magic”)

LIU YANGYANG | RIDE HOME [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | it’s hellweek and you’re hellbent on finishing all your deadlines this weekend. but yangyang had a different idea, and it took you two rest stops too many to agree that his was the better one. or, wherein the ride home didn’t actually feel like a ride home because you've been with him all this time. GENRE | roadtrip! au, best friends to lovers! au, there is only one bed (the works), fluff, romance, maybe some angst, humor WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "so i'm coming home to you, you // you're all i need, the very air i breathe // you are home" + "when i'm with you home is never too far"

OSAKI SHOTARO | MAYBE THE NIGHT [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | high school dances are always fun unless you get stood up by your date. lucky for you, you weren't the only unlucky soul tonight. GENRE | prom! au, high school! au, fluff, romance WARNINGS | tbd. PROMPTS | "moon has never glowed this color // hearts have never been this close // i have never been more certain // i will love you 'til we're old" + "maybe the night holds a little hope for us, dear"

JUNG SUNGCHAN | SA SUSUNOD NA HABANG-BUHAY [coming soon!]

(IN THE NEXT LIFE) SUMMARY | it's never too early to fall in love. but before falling, you must be a hundred percent sure or else you'd only end up crashing down. GENRE | breakup! au, angst, but this is gonna end on a light note i swear WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | “hindi ba pangako mo nu'ng una // tiwala'y iingatan? // baka naman, sa susunod na habang-buhay, ha-ay na lang” + “ikaw pa rin ang pipiliin kong mahalin // sa susunod na habang-buhay” ("didn't you promise back then // to cherish our trust? // maybe only in our next life, then" + "i'd still choose to love you in my next life")

ZHONG CHENLE | SUNRISE [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | one summer vacation and you discover all new sides of your childhood best friend, zhong chenle. he’s still as hyperactive, competitive, and a little shit as he was before, but there were a few changes. maybe those changes changed something within you, as well. GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, summer vacation! au, fluff, romance, humor WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "pull the windows down, the night was young // so we'd hide under the sheets until the dawn" + "sunrise // i have run this far still i find you // sunrise // show my weary heart that a new day will soon arrive // new day will soon arrive"

PARK JISUNG | WAR [coming soon!]

SUMMARY | a few months before college and jisung feels like his time is running out. he wasn't ready to face the rest of the world yet when he had barely experienced anything at the age of eighteen— and neither were you. the both of you are determined to accomplish everything you've ever wanted to do within the remaining few months before finally parting ways. GENRE | coming of age! au, best friends to lovers! au, romance, very lighthearted, fluff, minimal angst WARNINGS | tbd PROMPTS | "i wanna go // and fight in this fight // i wanna be // be more than just a child" + "i wanna hear // the marching sound of love"

258 notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

A Room at the End of the World

Pairing: Max Phillips/GN! Reader

Word Count: 3,253

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, so much blood, mentions of broken bones, depictions of moderate injuries, hurt/comfort,

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

It was a very cliché dark and stormy night.

You huddled in your tent, listening to rain slam onto the ground. You had checked the forecast literally an hour before coming out to go camping, but somehow, the unexpected storm had trapped you in your tent, unable to go anywhere until the rain subsided. All you’d wanted was one last trip out before it got too cold to camp, but no, it just had to pour on your one weekend off.

Sighing and rolling over, you looked at your soaked boots and coat, illuminated by the tiny lantern you’d brought. Well, at least this would make a good story to tell your coworkers. A crack of thunder split the air just as a bolt of lightning lit your entire tent up. The storm had to be right on top of you, and you quickly shot a text out, telling your friends that if they didn’t hear from you in a half an hour, to send emergency services out to the campsite.

And then you heard the howling.

At first, you assumed it was the wind whistling through the mostly bare tree branches, creating those mournful screams, but then they got closer, breaking into overlapping and individual voices.

“Wolves?” you asked yourself, turning your light out and slowly gathering your things in the dark. If you had to outrun a pack of wolves, you’d rather have your shit on you so that you could survive if you got lost. You quickly checked over your stuff, making sure it was all there. Then you shoved your feet into your boots, quickly pulling the laces tight, suddenly glad you’d spent the extra money on the waterproof ones. Next went your coat, zipped to your throat, and then the backpack overtop that. You clipped all the safety straps on the backpack, keeping it as secure as possible. It had no waterproof covering, but you didn’t care. Everything that could possibly be ruined by the rain was secure in your inner jacket pockets.

All that was left to do was wait. You sat in the center of your tent, leaning your head ever so slightly back, looking up at the roof of your tent. Your lantern was sitting beside you, ready to be scooped up and used if you had to run.

“I’m never going camping again,” you decided softly, voice dying as you realized you weren’t alone anymore. The wolves were around you, the sound of their snuffling suddenly horrendously audible over the rain. Low growls accompanied the sniffing sounds, occasional teeth snapping joining the din of sound that kept you petrified in your tent. You found it in you to stand, going as slow as you dared as you moved to a crouch, ready to run. Lightning flashed again, and as the thunder rippled through the air, you felt the breath leave your chest as you saw the silhouettes of the wolves outside your tent. At least five, each one double the size of any wolf you’d ever seen. They were directly next to your tent, and you were sure if the storm wasn’t drowning noise out, you’d be able to hear their breathing.

Another giant bolt of lightning split the sky, and you could see the raised paw of one of the wolves. You only had one choice now. Fight and run. Grabbing the small swiss army knife you kept on you, you flipped the horribly inadequate knife out and in one swift move, slashed a hole in the tent right as the wolf’s claws came down on the nylon.

Just like that, everything was a rush. Your knife in one hand and your lantern in the other, you jumped out the hole and barreled through the crowd of wolves, pushing them aside with your shoulder in a desperate effort to keep going. Crashing through the woods with only your dim lantern to guide you, you ran as fast as possible down the trail, taking several confusing turns, never quite losing the sound of pounding feet on your tail.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you had to give up. You couldn’t do this anymore. Your legs ached and your chest burned and the rain was coming down in sheets, soaking you to the bone. The wolves were right behind you, and you’d run yourself into a corner. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. You were done.

Turning, you finally saw what was chasing you and you felt your breath stop. Standing there, actually standing on two legs, was a group of seven enormous wolves, each one bipedal and snarling, their faces twisted into sick grins. They looked as if they were enjoying every second of this. You whimpered, backing yourself against a tree as the wolves fanned out, surrounding the tree in a crude semi-circle, making sure you didn’t escape. The lantern night shone off their eyes, illuminating the strange humanness of their expressions. You held out the knife, hoping it would at least protect you for a few minutes. The lantern swung wildly, highlighting the blood dripping from each and every muzzle around you.

Finally, after an agonizing wait, the first wolf leapt at you. You swung out of the way, slashing wildly with your knife, but the rain made your vision blurry and unreliable, and before you knew it, the unharmed wolf was turning on you, claws moving wildly. You saw them hit you before the pain began to flow, thick and viscous from your torn up right forearm. The knife fell to the forest floor in shock, and you screamed, knees buckling and sending you toppling down right after it.

You looked up, vision fogged by the pain and by the downpour. The wolves had formed a tighter circle around you, and when you turned your face upwards, all you could see were the muzzles of the wolves, their fangs glistening in the lantern light. Closing your eyes, you could only pray your death was swift.

Whether it be fortunate or unfortunate, no pain struck you. You heard something, muffled by a beat of deafening thunder. When your ears recovered, you heard a horrible, screeching howl, and then the rain began to worsen, only for a minute, before the deluge became no more than a downpour again, accompanied by a terrifying silence. No wolves could be heard. In fact, you heard nothing aside from the thud of rain on the ground.

Cracking open an eye, you saw something you couldn’t even begin to explain. A man, no more extraordinary looking than you, was standing above the mangled bodies of the wolves. He seemed almost bored, his features unknown in the dark, but you could tell, even with nothing more than your meager lantern light, that he was drenched in blood.

“Are you okay?” His voice called above the din of the rain. He took a step towards you, and you scrambled back, watching him with wide eyes. The man held a hand out to you, coming no closer. Rain began to wash the blood away, leaving nothing more than streaks of watered down crimson on his skin. “C’mon,” he urged. “You’ll catch your death out here in this storm.”

You shook your head violently, finding yourself unable to form words, but you had no doubt this man scared you. Even though his features, now outlined ever so slightly by the lantern, were kind and warm, despite being washed in splatters of blood.

He sighed, sitting on the wet earth, staying the same distance from you. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice sliding over you like a warm blanket. “I just want to help.”

Somehow, despite every red flag, you stood, and so did he. He carefully took your left arm, giving you support and guiding you through the woods, encouraging you despite your stumbling feet. One of your ankles was messed up for sure, although whether it was a sprain or a break, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that you were using your savior as a crutch, and he was letting you. Your right arm hung uselessly by your side, blood dripping down your limp fingers and creating a temporary trail behind you before the rain removed any trace you’d ever been on the path.

“Home sweet home,” the man said, nudging your side lightly. You looked up, seeing a beacon of warm light spilling from a small cabin window. You sighed in relief, collapsing when you realized you couldn’t stand anymore. The man grunted in surprise, but immediately scooped you up, holding you close. He was cold and wet, but you didn’t mind as you rested your cheek against his soggy shirt arm and felt your eyes slip closed.

You opened them a minute later, unable to keep them closed out of worry. The man had opened his door and rested you on the couch, facing the kitchen where he was standing. He must not have assumed you were awake, because he was taking a once white washcloth to his skin, wiping away the blood staining his body.

Struggling to sit up, you realized you must’ve been asleep longer than a minute, because your coat and boots were by the door, and your backpack was next to the coffee table, the contents taken out and placed on towels to dry. You immediately went for your phone, finding no texts. Damn, you hadn’t realized you had no service out here.

Looking down, you felt a bolt of shock hit you. You weren’t in your own clothes. Instead, you were wearing old sweatpants and a slightly stained football jersey displaying a high school team you didn’t know. The tag in the corner had ‘Phillips’ written on it in scratchy handwriting, faded by time.

You put your phone down, and the man turned, surprised. “You’re up!” He said, moving towards you. “Are you feeling okay?”

You shrugged, shying away from the man. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, looking nervous, rolling the washcloth over and over in his hands.

He broke the tense silence first. “I’m Max.”

Shrugging, you held out your hand, surprised to find there was next to no pain when you extended your right arm. It was wrapped in thick white bandages, and when you looked down at your foot, you saw it had been treated in a similar way, all patched up and tightly wrapped.

“Oh, yeah,” Max said, letting you drop your hand to your side. “Your ankle. It was fractured. Nothing serious, but I wrapped it as tightly as I could without hurting you. Might want to elevate it.”

You nodded, propping your foot up on the coffee table. Max smiled, and you felt your heart roll in your chest. “You have,” you said slowly, gesturing to your own cheek. Max paused, raising his hand and wiping away a smear of blood. Then, to your utter shock, he put his hand in his mouth, washing away the blood. He must’ve seen your horrified face, because he stopped, pulling his hand from his mouth and finishing the job with the washcloth.

“Sorry,” he said softly, almost sheepish. “I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Eaten?”

Max nodded, preemptively moving away from you. “I’m a vampire.”

You were quiet. Half of you wanted to call him out on his joke, but the other half reasoned that he was telling the god’s honest truth, because if he was a vampire, then the things outside had to be werewolves. There was no other physical explanation.

You decided to play along, even though you still didn’t truly believe him. “Okay,” you said slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Max asked. “Usually I get much more screaming and disbelief.”

“I was attacked by werewolves,” you reminded him. “This is nothing.”

Max chuckled, standing. “Seems valid,” he said. “Want tea?” I can’t guarantee it’ll be good, but it’ll be tea.”

You smiled, nodding. Max shuffled into the kitchen to make tea, putting his washcloth in the sink as he went. Meanwhile, you began to organize your things, starting with the small pile of stuff pulled from your coat pockets. Your phone was okay, as was your map, spare flashlight, and pocket charger. Next, your small stockpile of food and water that had been in your backpack. After that, it was just a soggy pile of clothes, a ruined old book, and your lantern. You scooped the lantern up, running your finger along the spiderweb of cracks that now decorated the lantern’s glass surface. You carefully flicked the dial on the side, happy to find that despite the cracks, the lantern worked just fine. Fire filled the small chamber, and you waited a minute, watching the gentle flames before lifting the lid and blowing the fire out.

Max came back with your tea, the mug a regular slightly faded black. “It’s green tea,” he said, setting the mug down on a coaster. “With a bit of lemon and honey.”

You cradled the mug in your hands, glad for the warmth. “Thank you.”

Max sat back, watching you take a sip. “It’s good?” he asked nervously, and you nodded. The tea was the perfect combination of tea flavor and lemon, with just a touch of honey to help it all go down smooth.

“Good,” Max said, smiling. “I’m going to go look for a few things for you. I used to come out here a lot with my friends from high school, and we stashed some shit that could be useful. Including a boot and crutches for your ankle.”

While Max rummaged through the closets and cabinets, you drank your tea, turning and watching the rain slide in heavy sheets down the window. Lightning flashed, but it was no longer immediately followed by thunder. Instead, the storm grew further and further until it was no more than a gentle drizzle outside, the full moon peeking through the thick clouds at last.

“Aha!” Max resurfaced, triumphant, from a closet, holding a black medical boot and a pair of crutches. “Here they are!” He came back to the couch just as you put your empty mug down, turning back to him. He sat on the couch beside you, holding the boot out to you. “Do you mind if I?” The end of the question hung unsaid in the air, but you shrugged, propping your foot up on the couch cushion.

“Go ahead,” you said without hesitation. “Better you than me.”

Max grinned, nodding. “True,” he said, taking your ankle gently and guiding it to his lap. He slowly unwrapped the bandages, leaving a lone layer on. “You scraped your ankle,” he explained, unbuckling the boot. “Gonna leave on those bandages until tomorrow. But for now,” he said slowly, his tongue poking between his teeth as he slipped your foot into the boot and began to pull the buckles tight. “This should help you get around.”

You tested it out, hobbling around on the crutches and boot. It was surprisingly more mobile than you’d expected, and by the time you’d made a lap around the kitchen, you felt sturdy on your feet. “Does this place have service?” you asked, sitting back beside Max. “I want to tell my friends I’m going to be late coming home.”

“Yeah,” Max said, looking out the window. “It was probably killed by the storm, but usually, yeah, it does.”

You and him decided to just wait it out, going your separate ways for the rest of the night. He showed you to your room, which was a plain room with hardly any décor, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

The next morning, you woke to birds singing and Max shuffling through the kitchen, muttering to himself. Sliding out of bed and grabbing the crutches off the wall, you made your way to the kitchen table, smiling when you saw Max making breakfast. It was eggs and bacon, and you waited for almost five minutes before finally standing to help him.

“Bacon first,” you said, handing him the package of bacon. “Then eggs.”

Max smiled sheepishly, looking at you. “Haven’t made breakfast in a while,” he admitted. “It’s weird.”

You shrugged, watching the bacon so you didn’t have to look into Max’s eyes. “It’ll come back to you,” you promised. “Where’d the ingredients come from though?”

“Convenience store,” Max said. “Half an hour drive, by the way. But they said that the power and phone lines got fixed, so go ahead and make your call or text or whatever.” He noticed you nervously eyeing the pan and chuckled. “I’ve got this.”

Turns out, he did, in fact, have this. When you looked up from your phone, you saw Max humming to himself, standing over the stove with a watchful eye, nodding his head back and forth to the hummed Star Wars theme. In his pyjama pants and old t-shirt, Max seemed oddly normal, so unlike the bloody menace who’d saved your life last night.

“Voila!” Max said happily, putting a plate down in front of you. “Eggs and bacon!”

You smiled, looking down. The breakfast looked amazing, everything oddly to your taste. Max sat across from you, the spot in front of him empty.

“What about you?” you asked. “Don’t you get breakfast?”

Max shrugged. “Yeah, but I figured I’d eat later.”

You shook your head. “Go get your food,” you said sternly. “Don’t starve yourself on my behalf.”

“Okay,” Max said, standing and opening the fridge. He pulled out a raw chunk of meat, putting it on a plate and grabbing a knife as well before he sat back in front of you. “Bon appétit,” he said, cutting off a piece of his meat and sinking his fangs into it.

You nodded, eating your own food. As much as you wanted to stare, you decided that you’d do your best to make Max comfortable. So instead of gawking, you simply enjoyed a meal with him.

“So when are you going home?”

You looked up at the question. Max was looking down, almost nervous as he shoved a few more bites of food around his plate. “I don’t know,” you said. “When I’m well enough to walk, I guess.”

Max seemed shocked. “But that’ll be weeks!” he said.

“And?” you were confused. “I told my friends I was staying with an old friend from out of town who lived close to the campsite while I recovered, and that I’d be back when I could walk again. You’ll let me stay, right?”

“You actually want to stay?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah I want to stay!” you said. “Provided you won’t like, eat me in my sleep or anything. You’ve helped me Max. I trust you.”

Max seemed shocked as you spoke, but finally, he sat back, smiling. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah, you can stay.”

“Great!” you said happily. “After breakfast, what do you want to do? The storm let up, we could go outside.”

“On that foot?” Max asked, nudging your boot under the table. “No. I have a PlayStation and a bunch of games. It’s all old though.”

You shrugged. “How old?”

“Three years,” Max said. “And most of the games are horror. No one ever comes around anymore, so I just kinda kept the stuff I used.”

You perked up. “Got Resident Evil?”

Max smiled. “Yeah.”

“Seven?”

“Yup.”

You stood, already moving towards the couch. “I bet I can die less times than you can!”

“Oh you’re on!”

#bloodsucking bastards #max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Five)

Summary: (Y/N) and Mando join forces with Cobb Vanth to kill a krayt dragon, and they attempt to get the townsfolk and the Tuskens to peacefully work together. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Five The Dragon (Previous Chapter)

When she made the decision to join the Mandalorian’s crew and help him fulfill his quest, (Y/N) knew that they’d frequently be encountering dangerous situations. However, she didn’t foresee one of them involving her and Mando having to help kill a krayt dragon to protect a settlement in the middle of the Dune Sea. Cobb Vanth, the Marshal of Mos Pelgo, had offered Mando a deal: if they helped him kill the krayt dragon, he’d give them the Mandalorian armor he’d been using for years to protect his people.

“Deal. (Y/N) can ride back to the ship and blow it out of the sand from the sky; we’ll stay and use the bantha as bait.”

Cobb looked away from Mando to shoot her an astounded smirk, to which she responded by raising a brow, daring him to challenge her piloting skills. Silently conceding, the marshal looked back at Mando with a grimace. “Not so simple. The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations and stays underground. But I know where it lives.”

“How far?”

“Not far.”

So, she and Mando had wrangled up the child before getting onto the speeder bike and following Cobb further into the desert. Sensing that the Mandalorian was still agitated about the marshal’s blatant disrespect of his people’s Creed, (Y/N) had allowed him to drive and resigned herself to sitting behind him on the bike. I suppose there’s worse ways to travel, she thought to herself with a faint blush as her arms tightened slightly around her partner’s waist, like on the back of a bantha or dewback.

“You two don’t understand what it was like,” Cobb interjected after about a half an hour of driving. “The town was on its last legs; it started after we got news of the Death Star blowin’ up…the second one, that is.” (Y/N) smiled to herself, a little pleased that someone else had realized just how idiotic the Empire had been to build two of those things, then turned her attention back to the marshal’s tale. “The Empire was blown out of Tatooine and there was blaster fire over Mos Eisley; the occupation was over. We didn’t even have time to celebrate. That very night, the mining collective moved in; power hates a vacuum and Mos Pelgo became a slave camp overnight…”

(Y/N) listened as the marshal detailed his escape from Mos Pelgo, how he’d stolen a camtono of silicax crystals and wandered the desert for days until being rescued by the Jawas. She felt Mando’s body stiffen as Cobb explained that he’d traded the crystals for the Mandalorian armor and returned to the town, ridding it of its enslavers and establishing himself as its marshal. Based on what he’d told them, (Y/N) decided that he was an honorable man just doing everything to keep his people safe; however, she knew that the silent Mandalorian sitting in front of her would take more time to win over.

That’s what Cobb Vanth must’ve thought as well; once he’d finished his story, he turned his attention to her instead of Mando. “So, what’s your story? How’d a smuggler end up workin’ with a Mandalorian?”

“How’d you know-?”

“Livin’ on Tatooine, I’ve met my fair share of hot-shot pilots.” His mouth stretched into a lopsided grin. “None as pretty as you, though.”

Feeling her face warm at his flirtatious tone, (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, Mando here asked me to join his crew after seeing my piloting skills firsthand. And I’m actually a former smuggler; I worked for the Rebellion but I retired from that life just after the New Republic was established.”

The two speeder bikes had just reached a rocky canyon and they reduced their speed in the narrowing ravine. It was then that Cobb glanced over at her with a raised brow. “I didn’t know they had smugglers workin’ in the Rebellion. What’d you smuggle for ‘em?”

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, acutely aware that there was more than one person waiting to hear her reply. “I, um-”

Cobb signaled for them to halt right when a loud growling noise began echoing through the canyon; both speeder bikes came to a stop and all three took cover behind them as they drew their weapons. Not knowing what to expect, (Y/N) pulled the plaster rifle off her back and propped it up alongside Mando’s pulse rifle on the top of their speeder, furrowing her brow when the howling grew louder. Moments later, a massiff emerged from behind an outcropping of rock and was soon joined by several others. Instead of firing, Mando lowered his pulse rifle and let out a familiar-sounding growl of his own before walking around the bike and towards the creatures.

“What the hell’s he doin’?” Cobb whispered loudly, his look of surprise growing when (Y/N) got up from her crouch and slung her rifle back onto her shoulders. “What the-?”

She and Mando both raised a hand to calm the marshal down, and (Y/N) watched with an impressed smile as her partner knelt down and began petting the now-happy massiff. I guess Mando’s got a way with pets, she thought to herself, her smile widening when she noticed several Tuskens emerge from behind the rocks. (Y/N) had enjoyed sharing camp with the Tuskens the night before; they’d been pleasant hosts, and she’d truly loved learning more about their culture while teaching them a little of her own.

(Y/N) glanced over at Cobb while Mando conversed with the Tuskens, her smile faltering a little as she took in his hardened expression; and when Mando informed them that the Tuskens also wanted to kill the krayt dragon, a feeling of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach.

As night was beginning to fall, the Tuskens led the three of them to their settlement and allowed them to stay in two of their tents. (Y/N) thanked them for their hospitality using the hand gestures she’d picked up from Mando, pleased that she was still able to remember them but before she could make her way over to the Tusken’s campfire, Mando stopped her.

“Word travels fast on the Dune Sea; they already know about your peaceful encounter with the other clan of Tuskens yesterday. It’s Vanth who needs to earn their trust tonight.” Mando explained, his voice becoming a little gruffer when he mentioned the marshal’s name before quietly continuing. “Why don’t you and the child get some rest, alor’ad? I know it’s early but we’ll be traveling to the lair at first light and you’ll need your strength if you’re gonna help us kill a krayt dragon…”

(Y/N) relented, taking the child from Mando and crouching into their tent as she stifled tired yawns behind her hand; settling down in her bedroll, she drifted in and out of sleep, glancing over where the child was soundly sleeping every once in a while to see if he was all right. The little guy must be growing on you, she thought with a small smile, closing her eyes and rolling over to face the tent entrance.

A sudden sound caused (Y/N)’s eyes to snap open and in an instant, her blaster was in her hand and pointed directly at the Mandalorian’s head; realizing it was only her partner, she lowered her blaster with widened eyes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Mando, I thought that-!”

“It’s okay, you shouldn’t apologize for having a quick reflex.” Mando replied, entering the tent and sitting down on top of his bedroll. “It’s good that you’re up; the Tuskens are going to take us to the lair tomorrow, but they’re insisting we travel in a small number and only scout the area. Will you be all right staying here with the kid while we go?”

She smiled, tucking her blaster back under her pillow. “Sure, that sounds okay. I guess that means you’ll be traveling with Vanth by yourself, huh?”

Nodding, Mando glanced over at the sleeping child before looking back at her. “I don’t trust him. He picked a fight with the Tuskens earlier, and he was asking a lot of questions about your Rebellion days.”

“Well, he was born and raised on Tatooine; he’s probably been told all his life that the Tuskens are the monsters. And as for the questions…well, most people don’t know that the Rebels recruited smugglers to their cause and then once they learn, they always assume that I was only working with the Alliance for monetary reasons. But I don’t mind.” Shrugging, (Y/N) laid back down on her bedroll, resting her hands on her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling of the tent. “Better to let them assume than to re-open any old wounds by explaining. Does that make any sense?”

The Mandalorian was silent for a moment and when he answered, his voice sounded softer than usual. “Yeah…yeah, it does.”

“So, um, what’s the story with the little guy?” (Y/N) asked, eager to change the subject but also curious about the child’s background. “When you say we’re returning him to his kind, do you mean his species or maybe his family…?”

She heard Mando lay down on his own bedroll. “The child is…special. He has many abilities, and he belongs with a race of sorcerers called Jedi.”

“Jedi?” (Y/N)’s sleepy eyes widened and she rolled over to look at the Mandalorian. “I thought that they were just myths!”

“You’ve heard of the Jedi before?”

“My mother used to tell me stories about them when I was a child on Naboo, but I didn’t…” She trailed off, feeling his gaze from behind the visor of his helmet. “I always thought they were fairytales.”

Mando nodded eagerly. “Do you remember anything about your mother’s stories? Anything at all?”

“All I remember is that the Jedi were supposed to have been the guardians of the peace but if that were true, then the Empire never would’ve happened.” (Y/N) snorted, laying back down and frowning a little as she sensed her partner’s disappointment. “That doesn’t really help us, though.”

“Well, it’s one thing I didn’t know before, so I’d say it was a little helpful.” The Mandalorian offered. “We should get some rest; we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, it quickly became apparent that they were in for more than what they’d originally bargained for. (Y/N) stayed at the Tusken settlement with the child while Mando, Cobb and a handful of Tuskens traveled by bantha the short distance to the krayt dragon’s lair. To pass the time, she’d mended some of their clothing and cleaned her borrowed blaster rifle, knowing that she would soon be needing it.

When the others returned, Mando explained their plan to recruit the villagers of Mos Pelgo to aid in the attack against the creature before they headed back to the town. (Y/N) hadn’t said anything out loud, but she was wary of their new plan; it essentially hinged on the ability of two warring peoples to set aside their differences in order to defeat a common enemy, and while (Y/N) had no problem working alongside the Tuskens, she knew that the villagers would have a very different opinion than her. Now I definitely have a bad feeling about all this, she thought as she parked the speeder alongside Cobb’s in front of the cantina.

“They attacked us less than a year ago, killed half a dozen of us by the mining camp. I’d say I took down about twice as many Tuskens.” Cobb got up from his speeder, a fresh look of guilt on his face.

“The town respects you.” Mando pointed out as (Y/N) hopped off their speeder and dusted off her clothes. “My guess is they’ll listen to reason.”

(Y/N) nodded and offered the marshal a brief smile. “If the Tuskens are willing to put the past aside, then I don’t see why your people can’t find it within themselves to do the same.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

A doubtful-looking Cobb quickly gathered the town into the cantina and it went about as well as she’d feared it would; after explaining the entire situation to the villagers they reluctantly agreed to the deal the Tuskens had offered, that in exchange for their help and the carcass of the creature, they would unite with them in battle and never attack Mos Pelgo until a villager breaks the peace. Tension filled the air as the Tuskens arrived to help with the preparations and it went fairly quickly, save for one brief moment of unrest between a Tusken and a villager. But in no time, they were slowly on their way to the krayt dragon’s lair with the villagers and explosives in tow.

With the suns high in the sky, (Y/N) stood between Mando and Cobb as they carefully watched a lone Tusken make his way to the large cave entrance and place his hands on the ground before it; after several terse moments, the Tusken straightened and signed a message with his hands.

“What did he say?” (Y/N) quietly asked, the hand holding the blaster rifle’s strap tightening with anticipation.

“He says it’s sleeping. If we listen carefully, we can hear it breathing.”

(Y/N) glanced over at Cobb beside her, shrugging and watching as another Tusken offered him a familiar-looking green object; she gave the marshal an expectant smile that widened when he lifted the object and drank the sour liquid, finally accepting the Tusken’s gesture of peace and good faith.

After receiving their instructions from the Mandalorian, they got to work as quietly as they could. (Y/N) removed her cowl before grabbing a shovel and helping the others dig the shallow hole that they’d bury the explosives in; the muscles in her arms were aching in protest by the time the hole was finished, but she hid her pain as she walked up to Mando and Cobb with a smile.

“Ready when you are, fellas.”

Mando nodded and moved forward to watch the Tuskens approach the mouth of the cave, leaving Cobb to walk alongside her as he flashed her a lopsided grin. “How ‘bout a kiss for luck from a pretty lady?”

(Y/N) only rolled her eyes and raised a brow in amusement at his flirting attempt. “How about we focus on killing a krayt dragon and not dying instead, Marshal?”

“Worth a shot.” Cobb shrugged as they stood alongside Mando on the rocky ridge overlooking the villagers and Tuskens. They watched as three Tuskens slowly made their way to the cave and stopped, hesitating a brief moment before loudly calling out; their grunts and growls echoed throughout the rocky canyon and just as they had begun to fade, the growling of a large creature called back. All three Tuskens turned and ran, and the krayt dragon burst out of the cave in an explosion of sand; its roar shook the ground, and (Y/N)’s jaw nearly dropped when she realized just how massive the creature was.

Beside her, Mando pulled out his scope and all three of them watched the Tuskens and the villagers enact their plan; they fired the harpoons they’d built to pull the creature from its cave, but it quickly became clear that it wasn’t working when the krayt dragon reared its head back and tried tugging itself loose from its captors. “Dank farrik, it’s going back in; it’s retreating.”

Cobb gripped the detonator in his hand, his thumb hovering over the button. “I’m gonna hit it.”

“No, wait. We only have one shot; we’ve gotta get it out.”

Following the others lead, (Y/N) slung the blaster rifle off her shoulder and quickly aimed before firing at the creature, her precise shots joining the blaster bolts and small explosives hitting its thick hide. Their actions enraged the krayt dragon, which charged forward and forced the others to run for cover.

“Now?” Cobb asked, his jaw tightening as he watched his village continue its assault on the creature.

Mando shook his head. “Not yet. It’s gotta come out further.”

But as he spoke, the krayt dragon finally pulled itself free of the harpoons with a deafening roar, throwing Tuskens high into the air before opening its mouth and spewing acid onto a group of retreating Tuskens and villagers.

Both Mando and Cobb stiffened at the sight, and (Y/N) heard herself breathe out, “Oh, Maker.”

The creature continued forward after its attackers, and Mando held up a tense hand. “Almost, almost…now!”

The marshal’s thumb smashed down on the button and the explosives went off, sending a massive cloud of dust up with a blast of air as the creature roared and vanished from view. (Y/N) lowered her blaster to shield her face from the sand-filled wind, looking up as the dust began to settle and frowning when she noticed the empty patch of ground.

“I don’t think it’s dead.”

“Me either.”

(Y/N) merely bit her lip and watched as the Tuskens and villagers looked around in confusion, an unsettling feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, the krayt dragon exploded out of the rocky ridge high above the entrance of the cave with an ear-splitting growl and began spewing more acid onto the panicked crowd below.

Cobb’s face twisted in fury. “It’s pickin’ us off like womp rats.” He suddenly turned and grabbed his blaster rifle off his speeder. “Let’s get after it!”

Mando turned to look at her and she nodded, already knowing exactly what the two of them had in mind; he hurried over and grabbed his pulse rifle, rushing back to her and wrapping his free arm tightly around her waist. He barely gave her enough time to latch onto him before activating his jetpack and shooting up into the air, flying fast towards where the creature was emerging from the rocks. Yeah, I think I prefer flying in an actual ship, (Y/N) barely had time to think, landing roughly beside Mando and Cobb on the side of the ridge and immediately joining them as they fired their weapons at the side of the creature’s head.

“This ain’t doin’ a thing!”

“Yeah, I have to agree with the marshal on this one!” (Y/N) yelled, watching as their shots bounced off its thick hide.

Reloading his pulse rifle, Mando loudly replied, “Just keep shooting!”

The three of them continued firing their weapons and after a few moments, the krayt dragon seemed to finally notice their presence; it let out another roar and moved its head towards them, but the Mandalorian grabbed her around the waist again and they flew out of the way just as it bit down on the rocky ridge. They flew down to the ground in front of the cave entrance and spun around, their weapons at the ready, but the creature had disappeared once again.

“Dank farrik…” (Y/N) murmured under her breath, her grip on her blaster rifle tightening as she waited for the krayt dragon to re-emerge; she didn’t have very long to wait. They quickly turned as the creature appeared from the sand dunes behind them and lunged forward, narrowly missing a cluster of escaping Tuskens and villagers.

“There he is.” Mando spoke under his breath, his modulated voice steady despite the dire situation. He glanced past (Y/N) to Cobb with a nod. “I’ve got an idea. Get it’s attention.”

Without hesitation, the marshal leaned forward and activated the missile strapped to his back; it hit the creature with a fiery explosion, causing it to shriek in anger and change its course, charging through the sand in their direction. “I got its attention! Now what?”

“You still have that detonator?”

Cobb unclipped it from his belt and reached past (Y/N) to hand it over. “Take it!”

“Wait, what’s the plan, Mando?” (Y/N) frowned, trying in vain to piece together what her partner was planning on doing.

Mando turned his head to look at her. “You’re gonna take care of the child.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know but wish me luck!” Before (Y/N) could realize what was happening, Mando pushed her into Cobb’s arms and as she instinctively brought her arms up around the marshal’s shoulders, he slammed the butt of his pulse rifle into his jetpack and they shot high up into the air. Clutching tightly to Cobb as they zigzagged through the sky, (Y/N) had just enough time to glance over and see the krayt dragon swallow Mando and a bantha whole before they landed hard on the ground.

Quickly sitting up, (Y/N) stared at the spot the Mandalorian had been with her jaw dropped in horror. She couldn’t move or speak and beside her, Cobb ripped off his helmet to reveal an equally-stunned face; before either of them could say anything, the ground began to rumble beneath them once again. (Y/N) grabbed her blaster rifle just as the krayt dragon re-emerged from the ground, its jaw widening to release a mighty roar, but just as she was preparing to fire on it, a familiar beskar-clad figure flew out of its mouth and was followed by the electric-blue shockwaves of a pulse rifle.

“That son of a mud-scuffer…” (Y/N) breathed out, watching through her rifle’s scope in amazement as the Mandalorian pressed down on the detonator and set off the explosives within the creature. With one last ear-splitting scream, the krayt dragon collapsed to the ground in a cloud of sand and dust, finally defeated.

She and Cobb shielded their faces as a strong gust of wind blasted them, looking up in time to watch Mando land on the ground in front of the creature’s carcass. (Y/N) glanced over at the marshal and they shared a disbelieving grin, clambering to their feet while the cheers of Tuskens and villagers filled the air.

(Y/N)’s leg twinged in protest when she stood but she ignored the pain as she and Cobb hurried over to where Mando stood; his armor was dripping with the creature’s green stomach acid and his chest was heaving with labored breaths, but to her he looked incredible.

“You’ve gotta be the craziest kriffing man I’ve ever met!” (Y/N) exclaimed, looking over her partner for any serious signs of injury and grinning when he merely shrugged his shoulders. “Keep pulling stunts like that and you might just change my low opinion of ex-bounty hunters.”

Mando chuckled between breaths, the sound causing her heart to warm in her chest. “I’ll keep that in mind, alor’ad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain

Chapter Six

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @zukoyonce @itsnottilly

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda #cobb vanth

141 notes · View notes

amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 3: Without Armor

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, violence

SUMMARY: “You’re an excellent leader. Tell me what to do.”

“Nova—”

“Prove it,” she whispers, her voice barely air. Her blood is pumping so heavily in her ears that her own words sound distorted, like they’re under a waterfall. “Show me you’re a good leader. Because I believe you are, but I know you have to prove it to believe it.”

“This isn’t what this place was made for.”

Nova stops, her forehead pressed against his. Everything in this strange arena is quiet except for their breathing, an urgent pulsing in the cold, dark night. “So fighting is sacred to Mandalorians,” she breathes, feeling the airlocks that keep Din’s helmet secure around his face hiss. He doesn’t move, letting her lift off his helmet, to have him without his armor. “You’re sacred to me. Every inch of you.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello hello my friends!!! this is where i offer a deep, massive apology for Chapter 3 coming out a week later than it was supposed to. i was traveling to visit my best friend who lives states away, then my family had a slew of emergencies and crises, then i was too drained with a flareup of pain to write a single word. writing SD is literally my happy place, and being forced to take an unplanned break was painful and hard. this chapter isn't as long as i wanted it to be (i'm so sorry for that as well!!!) but i think it's as fleshed out as i can get it, because, as usual, Big Things Are Coming. thank you so so much for being patient with me in my hasty, largely unexplained absence, and i hope you LOVE this week's chapter!! <3

Hoth really shouldn’t feel warm and welcoming. The climate is horrible, temperatures that drop to dangerous lows, the ice that breaks and shifts and opens into the gaping maw of the planet’s icy interior. It’s a wasteland, white-blind and horrible, but the small Rebel base located in the heart of the planet is enough to keep Nova’s heart anchored here, even when she’s parsecs away.

Landing Kicker isn’t an issue. The second they descend onto the landing pad, a small crew of the mechanics Nova spent most of her brief stint here with racing towards the underbelly. Nova waves at them, pointing over the noise at the makeshift patch on the mainline of fuel, and they nod, enclosing on the issue in a matter of seconds.

Din’s tense. Nova’s eyes roam over the silhouette of his impressive, taut body, knowing that most of what’s underneath the beskar is in fighting mode, ready to expel energy like a hurricane whenever he faces the opposition. He tilts the visor over at her, and Nova offers a tiny smile, her heart kicking an arrhythmic beat against her chest. She’s trying her best to not look relieved that she’s here and not on Mandalore, but she knows she’s a horrible liar and that her body is full of betrayal. When the airlock doors hiss open and the two of them are beckoned into the insulated hollow of the Rebel base, Wedge is there waiting. Behind him, like a silent sentinel, stands Bo-Katan, her owl-painted blue helmet obscuring the expression on her face.

“Rebel girl,” Wedge calls, and something cold in Nova’s heart thaws. His arms are strong and purposeful, and he envelops Din’s hand with that same warmth and vigor, nodding at him. Bo-Katan doesn’t move an inch, her pristine hands folded behind her back, every muscle in her body the same kind of tight and purposeful as Din’s are, Mandalorian strong. “Welcome back.”

“It’s—” Nova inhales, eyes flicking, uncertain, over at Bo-Katan, “good…to be back. I wish it was under better circumstances, but—”

“You’re Andromeda Maluev,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and the mention of her old name sends a spike straight through Nova’s chest, puncturing on scar tissue that’s never fully healed. “Aren’t you?”

Nova swallows, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “I was,” she answers, finally, voice far away and small. “Why do you ask?”

Bo-Katan gestures with her head, a tiny movement, and then she’s turning on her beskar heel to move towards the war room. Silently, Nova and Din follow behind her and Wedge, Nova’s heart still hammering, erratic. The space is smaller than the giant one on Mandalore, but because it’s empty except for the four of them, it seems massive. Dangerous. Lonely.

Nova steps up to the holotable, twisting her tongue behind her teeth, trying to remain calm. The mention of her old name, twice in less than a week, feels like shrapnel. It reminds her of everything she’s been running from for a decade—her parents’ deaths, Jacterr Calican, the Empire, the resurrected evil in the First Order—and it sits sourly in her stomach as Bo-Katan presses buttons on the holotable. When the image of Nova comes up—so much younger than she feels now, dark hair long against her back, her features glitched and glittering in the hologram projected towards the ceiling—she winces at it. Beneath her portrait, her name is written in Basic: ANDROMEDA MALUEV. AGE: 26. CRIMES: EVADING CAPTURE, MURDER, AIDING AND ABETTING CRIMINALS. It’s bold and terrifying and Nova can’t look away. The word MURDER, screaming at her in capital letters, is too much to bear. She swallows, throat dry, blood rushing in her ears. It’s such a dangerous, horrible thing that it takes Nova a minute to read anything beneath the portrait of a girl she hasn’t been in years, but when she finally gets past the roadblock—MURDER, MURDER, MURDER—she sees a price on her head.

“Five million credits?” she asks, her voice rocketing through three octaves in her disbelief. The word credits cracks down the middle, incredulous. She presses a hand to her mouth, flattening her fingers flush against her face, trying to steady herself. “Why—why is the bounty so high?”

“That’s not from the First Order,” Wedge starts, gently, but he’s interrupted by Bo-Katan’s knife of an arm, cutting up between him and Nova. She jabs a long, gloved finger at the script underneath Nova’s image and her bounty, and Nova blinks hard, trying to get her brain to focus on what the words say.

“Novalise,” Bo-Katan says, her voice clipped, “you’re wanted alive or dead. Do you see that?” She enunciates her point with her finger again, stabbing it on the shimmering blue words reflected in front of them. “This is from the fucking Guild.”

“Easy,” Din cuts in, the word hard in the air. He steps forward, knocking Bo-Katan’s angry hand out of where it’s shaking in Nova’s face. “Take it the fuck down, Bo-Katan, or I will do it for you.”

“The—Guild?” Nova asks, trying to make all of the moving parts fit right in her brain. “I—I don’t understand. The Bounty Hunters’ Guild? The one that Greef Karga runs? I—I’m wanted? Why?”

“You’re not,” Din interrupts, his voice clipped and intense. Nova shuffles to the side as Din steps towards the holotable, magnifying the strange text. “It’s not Karga’s Guild. And you,” he adds, shoulders tossed back, facing Bo-Katan, “had no right to yell at her with those theatrics. Save that for the enemy.”

Nova can’t see Bo-Katan’s face, hidden under the blue beskar of her helmet, but she knows that Bo-Katan is glaring daggers at the both of them. Nova swallows again, trying to keep her heart rate steady, her racing mind calm, but she just keeps seeing the word MURDER flash before her eyes. Din’s saying something else, and she can’t concentrate, turning her body away from the three of them, staring off at the ice that makes up every corner of this room, clear and dangerous. She closes her eyes—MURDER, MURDER, MURDER—and opens them again, just as rapidly.

Inhaling shakily, Nova starts counting the deaths she’s been responsible for on her long, shaking fingers. Her skin, usually so warm and radiant, is fallow and pallid in the low light. Her thumb sticks up first, wearing Jacterr’s name. It wasn’t intentional, she tries to console herself, but her hands are still quivering. It was an accident. She didn’t mean for the lightsaber to ignite. She didn’t even know she had the power to do that, let alone use it as a weapon. It was self-defense, killing him before he had the chance to kill her. And then there were all of the faceless troopers in the TIE fighters she shot at when trying to get out alive. For years, hordes of them, shooting back at them before they had the chance to blow her to smithereens or capture her for something worse. You’ve never shot first, Nova tries to reason with herself, eyes focused on the outline of her boots, old and worn, warm against the icy floor of the room she’s standing in. It was all self-defense.

Except, that tiny little voice in the back of her mind whispers, insidious and awful, you killed Xi’an all on your own. Nova’s heart hangs heavy in her chest, like it’s on trial. She tries to inhale, but there’s no air in this ridiculous ice block of a room, and everything is purple and wounded, the imprint of Xi’an’s cold, dead body embedded on the back of her eyelids. That could be argued as self-defense, too, Nova tries to rationalize, but the reminder of the bullet that hit her wicked body head-on is still so horrible in her head. Logically, Nova knows that the only reason that she shot and killed Xi’an was because Din would have died if it weren’t for that bullet, and that Xi’an hurt her husband in ways she’d never felt fully comfortable asking about, but it’s still a dead body on her hands. Her gorgeous, terrible, radiant, shaking hands.

“I g—I gotta go,” Nova mumbles, and then her feet are carrying her out of the war room, into the hallway. They’ve put up more insulation since the time she lived here for a few weeks, when Din and Grogu left her and the world stopped turning, but the recognition of it barely registers in Nova’s mind as she sprints through the empty hallways, picking up her feet so that they don’t tangle in the loose generator wires curled across the floor. It only takes a few more turns, and then she’s through the airlock, back out into the frozen climate of Hoth’s exterior, her heart hammering something horrible, her pulse erratic, her blood pressure high and dangerous. Slowly, she sinks onto the frozen ground, right outside of the door, pressing her bare hands into the snow, trying to calm anything back to its usual resting place.

It’s freezing out here. Nova’s still in her outfit from Ahch-To, and even though her pants are lightweight and the cold cuts straight through, she’s not getting wet from the snow. Her upper body is slightly warmer, fabric of her shirt protective, the shawl wound tightly over her shoulders, flapping slightly in the wind.

“Nova,” a voice behind her cuts through the silence, and Nova turns at the sound of her name, breath stuck somewhere between her chest and her mouth. Din’s standing there, tall and stately. “Are you okay?” he asks, and the timbre of his voice makes it very clear that he knows full well that she’s not okay.

“Why?” she manages, and then she’s being hauled to her feet, Din’s gloved hands warm and steady around her waist. “Why is there a bounty on my head—alive or dead?” She blinks against a loose lock of hair blowing in her face, and before she can react to it, Din’s already tucking it gently behind her ear. “I thought the Order wanted me—”

“I don’t know,” Din interrupts gently. “I don’t know why you have any of these charges on your head, or why there’s a bounty at all. Gideon and everyone we’ve interacted with associated with the First Order always insisted that you would work for them, not that you were to be eliminated. I don’t know who put the charges out there, but we’re going to fix it. I’m never going to let anyone touch you.”

Nova looks straight up at the visor, swaying slightly in the frosty breeze. Her head hurts. Her scar aches. The pressure that’s constantly blossoming on her shoulder blades feels incredibly heavy, and even though the wind is frozen through, it makes her heart burn for Ahch-To—its gorgeous greenness, its holy ground—and Nova just stares at her own, unhinged reflection in Din’s helmet.

Her teeth press down onto her bottom lip before she can muster up the strength to speak. One of Din’s gloved hands is pressed protectively against the small of her back, and the other is holding her right cheek, a fortification, a promise. Nova looks desperately into the visor, trying to see straight through to Din’s brown eyes. Her voice is barely there when she’s able to talk. “How?”

Bo-Katan’s helmet is off by the time Nova feels stable enough to walk back inside. The airlock door hisses shut behind them, and Wedge is the one that Nova catches first. He’s outfitted in his regular orange jumpsuit, but the spark that usually burns behind his eyes is replaced by a sadness that Nova’s never seen before. He offers her a small smile, beckoning into the room, but she knows his mind is racing just as quickly as hers is, and when she looks at the holotable, the horrible image of her isn’t projected anymore. She inhales once, exhales, and tries to coax her heart back to a normal rhythm.

“Novalise—”

“It’s okay,” Nova whispers, nodding in Bo-Katan’s direction without looking at her. “You—you were right to call us here. I’m just…” she trails off, a small glint of light catching the stone on her ring finger, and she sighs. “I was taken by surprise. That was—I wasn’t expecting it. I know the First Order wants me. I know that my…powers, however mysterious as they are, make me valuable, and that makes me dangerous. But I don’t understand who wants me dead if it’s not the people we’ve been running from for the last year.”

Bo-Katan steps forward, uncrossing her lean, muscled arms. Silently, she pulls up the shimmering holograms again, but this time, Nova’s bounty doesn’t come up. It’s not anything recognizable until Bo-Katan points to a blue, rotating sphere. “I think,” she finally says, her tone unreadable, “that whoever put this bounty up on you wants your face out there in a bigger capacity than what it already is. You’re known in the Alliance, obviously, and now you’re known on Mandalore.” She stabs her finger at the hologram of the planet, rotating in silence. “And you’re wanted by the First Order, for whatever horrible plans they have next. But whoever this other force is—”

Nova holds up a hand, and, miraculously, Bo-Katan stops talking. “They want me to be a martyr,” she whispers, and all three of them look over at her with various expressions of disbelief. Din’s face is still hidden underneath his helmet, but Nova knows exactly what the contours of his features look like right now. Wedge’s worry lines deepen, dark and troubled. Bo-Katan raises one sculpted eyebrow, but her eyes focus on Nova’s like she knows it’s the truth.

“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks, finally.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant right now,” Bo-Katan interjects, but Wedge holds up a hand. It’s so sharp in contrast to his usual easygoing demeanor that her mouth snaps back shut.

“Nova’s a Jedi,” Wedge continues, eyes drifting to the lightsaber hanging off her belt. “Or at least she’s going to be,” he amends, “so she’s rare. One of three still existing that I know of, so that makes her incredibly important. Luke has been off on his own the last few years, trying to piece back the history of the Jedi that got lost or erased in the war. And that’s the Skywalker family lightsaber she has right there,” Wedge continues, nodding again at Nova’s belt loop, “so I know she went to go see him. What did he say, rebel girl?” he asks again, and Nova exhales lowly through the tiny gap of her open mouth.

“He knows something is coming,” Nova manages, finally. “He wanted—he wanted me to stay and train. He’s trying to locate all of the remaining Jedi in the galaxy, to try and rebuild what got destroyed. And,” she continues, exhaling, “he told me that what died may not stay dead.”

“Well,” Bo-Katan interjects, huffing, “that’s incredibly cryptic and entirely unhelpful.”

“Don’t start,” Wedge snaps, an edge to his voice. “Did he mean Gideon?”

Nova slowly shakes her head. It’s the truth, even though, to Bo-Katan’s point, Luke was being cryptic when he gave her that particularly sage warning. It’s not Gideon. Luke was talking about something deeper. “No,” she whispers, finally. “He meant someone—or something—much worse.”

Bo-Katan raises another eyebrow, a scorn so distasteful it makes waves on her face. “Yet another cryptic and unhelpful point, Novalise.”

Din steps forward before the expression on Nova’s face even changes. Bo-Katan Kryze doesn’t cower much, but she sure as hell shrinks underneath Din’s stance. He’s all anger, electric wires running currents throughout his entire tense body. Even the beskar pales in comparison to his rage. His hand slips to his own waistline, and Bo-Katan’s startled eyes glaze over the Darksaber before she backs down.

Nova has no idea how to diffuse this situation. Maybe Din’s right, maybe she is an expert at getting out of things, but the mountain crushing down on top of her shoulders just keeps growing bigger and bigger. Soon, it’ll be the size of Mandalore, and then she’ll have two planets to try and keep balanced on her already aching back. Nova rubs at the sore spot between her eyebrows, trying to worry out the knot that’s been growing in intensity there.

Bo-Katan’s talking again. Nova registers it, faintly, in the back of her mind. She’s long since grown tired of running, but right now, all her legs want to do is make a break for it. She’s exhausted and frozen in place and so unsteady on her feet. All Nova craves right now, this very second, is to lay back down in the piles of frigid snow outside and let it cool down her body right to the core. Din’s voice is angry, direct, curling in waves through the modulator, and when Nova whips back around to face the three of them, somehow, miraculously, they all grow silent.

“They want me to be a martyr,” Nova repeats, her voice barely anything in the chill of the chamber. Wedge’s thick eyebrow raises, his careful eyes searching over her face, trying to find her angle. “I’m not going to be. But I’m also not going to sit and wait on Mandalore for them to come find me, whoever they are. I’m not going to make it easy for them. Besides,” she finishes, eyes locking on Din’s, even under the obscurity of his helmet, “I’m a Rebel. Laying low isn’t in my blood.”

“Maybe,” Bo-Katan says, and there’s a razor’s edge to her already sharp voice. Something is wrong, Nova knows that, because underneath all of that icy venom, there’s a tremble that ricochets through her words. “But you’re forgetting something. You aren’t just a Rebel anymore. You’re the queen of a planet—”

“I’m a figurehead,” Nova spits back, exasperated. Maker above, her head is seriously killing her. Somewhere, distantly, she aches for the quiet crush of hyperspace, the dazzle, the glimmer, the flair of it all. Out there, running didn’t feel like running. And out there, home actually felt like home. “I’m nothing. I’m married to the Mand’alor, that’s it. I don’t rule. I don’t interact with anybody but the two of you. I wear Mandalore colored clothes, sometimes I’m in the war room, but most of the time, I’m staring up at the sky, and I can’t see the stars. I cannot see,” she continues, her voice unhinging into something desperate, “a single star from the planet’s surface. Bo-Katan, Mandalore is a ghost town. There’s only a handful of people left. Why did you battle Din for power in the first place,” she finishes, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, “if this was all that it was for?”

The room is silent. Nova can barely see straight, her eyes burning with the tears she’s trying to hold back. Bo-Katan looks like she’s been wounded—not pissed off, not royally wronged—wounded. Hurt. It’s written in the fracture lines of her face, and even though she’s been cold and hostile and a pain in everyone’s asses, Nova aches knowing she put them there. “Because,” Bo-Katan says, finally, and her voice isn’t icy anymore. It’s flat. Monotonous. “I love Mandalore. And I wanted something more.”

Nova inhales shakily, letting her shoulders round, clutching her arms around herself. The shawl wrapped around her upper body has fallen down to her shoulders, her loose hair flying in curls around her face. She’s exhausted. Behind her, she can feel Din stepping forward, his presence like a locus, an orbiting star. She staggers backward, mouth struck open, unable to conjure any words to fix this. “Bo-Katan—”

“Maybe I was wrong,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and her regular permafrost is back. “Maybe I was wrong about you. You’re right. You’re not a ruler. You’re a figurehead, Andromeda.” Nova recoils as if Bo-Katan slapped her. Slapping her would be better, actually, because the gut punch that comes with the stab of her old name is almost too much to bear. “And you’re sure as hell not a Mandalorian.”

Nova closes her eyes at the impact, but Din shoves his body forward, the whoosh of the Darksaber igniting in his hand before Nova can react. When she finally opens them, Din is standing like the warrior he is, like the bounty hunter he used to be. The horrible, flickering blade is up in front of Bo-Katan, an inch from her throat.

“I agreed to do this job because you insisted. I only promised to follow through if you were in my corner.” Din’s hand doesn’t waver once. Nova watches, horrified, as the terrible blade crackles and hisses in the low, cold light. “You intentionally disrespecting my wife is the opposite of being in my corner. If you ever,” he continues, and Nova can hear the grit of his teeth through the modulator, “use that name to refer to her again, those words will be your last. Do you understand me?”

Bo-Katan stares up at him, all malice. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Believe me,” Din spits, voice even and dangerous, “you haven’t been burned by me yet.”

Finally, she steps down, jutting her chin downward in a very reluctant nod. “Maybe you’re not a Mandalorian,” she concedes, staring back at Nova. Nova’s frozen to the spot, arms hugged tightly against her chest, knees shaking from the proverbial impact, “but Mandalore is still your home. For now, at least. And until we figure out who’s after you, that’s where you’ll stay. No Rebel missions. No alone time out in the stars.” She stares up at Din. “You wanted me in your corner? Fine. But your corner is on Mandalore, and Mandalore only.”

“I can’t do that,” Nova manages, quietly, her teeth aching in her mouth. “I need to train, Bo-Katan, I—I need to go see Grogu, I’m a commander in the Alliance, I cannot be grounded on a planet indefinitely, not with the entire galaxy on the brink of another war, not while there are two groups of people who want me dead or to be their slave—”

“Your home,” Bo-Katan interjects, her eyes dangerous behind her solid voice, “is on Mandalore now. What better place to protect you than a planet full of born and bred warriors?”

Nova’s heart is in her throat. It aches, pulsing and twisting and waning, like she has a knife lodged in her esophagus. “I can’t stay there indefinitely, I—I’m a Jedi—”

“No,” Bo-Katan interrupts again, “you are not. Not yet, and not until we figure out what danger the Order and these bounty hunters are to the rules of Mandalore. Besides,” she tacks on, leaning back on her heels, “Mandalorians and Jedi do not get along.” Her glance that flickers over to Din’s intimidating, awful silhouette, the Darksaber a ruthless weapon in his capable hands, is the only thing that gives away all the fear she’s tucked away under all that venom.

“Ahsoka Tano,” Nova manages, and something painful runs through the hard lines on Bo-Katan’s face. “You led us to Ahsoka. So no matter what you’re telling us right now, I know that you get along with at least one Jedi better than you think.”

Bo-Katan stares back at her. For a horrible beat, nobody breathes. Nova’s almost forgotten Wedge is still in the room until he lets out a quiet, exhausted sigh. “We’re going back to Mandalore. Wedge will run the Rebel operation from here, with people who aren’t responsible for a planet and the next collective fight of the galaxy. You leave Mandalore,” she says, and this time her gaze is trained expertly on Din’s visor, “you’re on your own.”

“Stop,” Wedge says, finally, and the singular word shatters through the tension, bringing everything down to the icy floor in one fell swoop. “Stop it. You,” he says, pointing at Bo-Katan, “were in here less than a month ago talking about unity, wanting to build something better, to protect the galaxy. I never thought we’d be close friends, Bo-Katan, but I at least thought you were on our side.” He lets the intention hang there, before turning to Din. “You are an incredible warrior, Din. I think Nova was right about you being a good leader. I think you have great potential. But I’ve seen power easily go sideways, and if you keep fighting against your own, you’re going to end up in another war. And you,” he enunciates heavily, turning on Nova, “you’re the best person I know. Kindest heart I’ve ever seen, except maybe for Luke. You’re an incredible pilot, a fantastic Rebel, and I don’t doubt for a second that you can save the galaxy from whatever evil it brings. But you’re not immortal, Nova. You’re not a saint, or a god, or anything bigger than a human being. Bo-Katan is right about one thing, and that’s you being in danger. They want you to be a martyr? Don’t let them make that a reality.” He pauses, and there’s something ancient in his eyes. “Go back to Mandalore. Work with each other, in whatever capacity that means. And when the three of you realize that we’re all in this together, no matter what threat we’re facing next, then you get to call the shots again.” He lets that hang in the air too, and it’s so heavy with genuine care, Nova’ heart breaks over itself again. “And I don’t make a habit of saying this, but may the Force be with us all.” His gaze roams over the three of them again, and Nova swallows, nodding against Wedge’s words. “We’re certainly going to need it.”

Mandalore is deadly and quiet.

It doesn’t welcome the three of them back in open arms. Bo-Katan’s ship is so much sleeker than Kicker, but Nova revels in the groan and tumble her starfighter makes when it touches down on cool, ashy earth. Her teeth are still shaking in her mouth. She has a headache, one she can feel in her jaw, right down to the bone. No one has spoken since Wedge gave his rebel rousing speech back on Hoth, and Nova knows that nothing she can manage can top that one. She’s silent in her flying, her disembarking. Slowly, she and Din trail Bo-Katan up the marble steps of the palace, and Nova can barely remember to offer her usual smile at the guards before the tall, impressive doors snap shut.

“I meant what I said,” Bo-Katan offers, finally, and there’s a wicked set in her jaw. “I can’t protect you out there. Mandalore is my home. I’m not abandoning this planet to run after the two of you and your masochistic need to save the galaxy. It’s been through enough, and I’m not going to let either of you ruin that. I meant it.”

Nova stares at her. She wants to snap back, to repeat what Wedge said, to shake some sense into Bo-Katan’s tense shoulders, but she doesn’t. She left all of her vitriol and fire back on Hoth, and she’s so incredibly tired. It’s nearly impossible to remember that DIn only took the throne a little over two weeks ago, that the ragtag group of their collected rebel fighters seemed so confident that they could stop the First Order, take down the evil lurking there, and restore peace to the galaxy. “So did I,” Nova whispers, finally, and Bo-Katan blinks uncharacteristically, a tiny slip in her usual armor before she opens her mouth again.

“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow,” Bo-Katan allows, and then she turns on her beskar heel and walks off somewhere in the dark haunt of the castle, her steps receding into nothing but dread.

Nova’s scar hurts. These days, it always seems to hurt, this horrible sucking wound that still aches, an aftershock of a trauma long gone. She sighs, long and heavy, wanting to sink into bed for a day or two and sleep all this responsibility off. She wants to be back up there in the stars, moving from planet to planet with purpose. She wants to use the lightsaber hanging from her belt. She wants to hug Grogu to her chest, to feel his tiny green body give off that special kind of warmth. She wants to lay with Din without armor, the rest of the world falling away.

When she finally manages to pull her heavy head up, Din is staring at Nova in the silence. There’s only a small strike of moonlight cutting across the strange, blue floor. He’s still wearing his helmet, but she can practically cut straight through the shield by the way she can feel his eyes piercing hers. This aches, too, such small hurts that accumulate across the map of her body.

“Come with me,” he says, finally, and when he reaches out his familiar, steady hand, she takes it.

It’s quiet in the palace, as per usual, but something about the moon striking through the windows as they move through the empty halls feels loud and haunting. Quietly, Din and Nova walk, hand in hand, past the throne room, past the staircase that leads to their massive bedroom, into the maze of corridors in the yawning belly of the beast. The amphitheatre is massive, something holy in its own right. Mandalorians treat battle like it’s divine, and the giant stadium built into their palace is made of marble and blue stone, the sky open and glittering above the arena.

“Why are we here?” Nova asks, finally, breaking the silence holding the both of them captive.

“Because,” Din answers, his voice level, leading her to the center of the ring, “this is where I won the Darksaber.”

Nova raises a dark eyebrow at him, and even though Din’s face is still obscured by the helmet, she can feel his face softening. “I know, mighty Mand’alor,” she deadpans, her own voice gentle, “I was there for the fight of the century, remember?”

“Stop it,” he interjects, but there’s no venom in his tone. She smiles, relaxing slightly, letting her aching shoulders drop. “I meant this is where it started. When we stood here, you said you thought I could be a good ruler. A fair one. Someone people would listen to.”

“I still think that,” she echoes, and Din’s fingers flutter over the makeshift hood of her shawl, dropping the blue fabric so that her hair falls loose. There shouldn’t be a breeze in here, but something rustles Nova’s long curls, letting them spiral over her right shoulder. “Actually, I know it—”

“I’m not,” Din interrupts, and Nova watches his movements, how calculated they are, how he’s pacing back and forth in the pit around her. It’s empty in here except for the two of them, but there’s some strange sense of exhibition, as if they’re being watched. “I’m not a good leader, Nova, because I’m not a leader. Bo-Katan told me Mandalore doesn’t take kindly to outsiders, but you were right earlier. This place is a ghost town. Besides the people who live and work in the palace, I’ve never seen anyone in the village. I’ve spent hours in the war room just looking at the maps, trying to figure out where all of the Mandalorians are.” He sighs, and Nova chances a half-step forward. “There aren’t any. They’ve either fled, been killed, or have left Mandalore to hide on other planets, like my covert.”

“Din,” Nova starts, but when he holds up a single gloved hand, the words die on her tongue.

“There’s nothing here left to rule,” he says, finally, like the words are both an incredible burden and the truth that sets him free. “Mandalore is gone. Whatever it used to be, whoever used to live here, what we see is all that’s left. Maybe I am meant to rule this planet full of nobody, I don’t know. Maybe this is some sort of strange...riddle that I can’t figure out. But I can’t understand why it’s so imperative for the two of us to step into these roles, to follow rules that make no sense, to try and be a leader for a planet that’s barely anything.”

Nova stares at him. A small smile winges across her lips before she even realizes why. “You don’t want to stay here,” she whispers, which is an echo of the same sentiment she’s been saying for weeks, but this time it feels like the truth laid bare. “You want to be where the fight is.”

Din’s quiet. His shoulders are still rigid. “I don’t run from things.”

“True.” Nova steps another foot towards him, her head cocked to the side, trying to puzzle out what’s happening in his head without seeing a glimpse of his face. “That’s usually my M.O.”

“Stop it,” Din whispers, but there’s no fire left in his voice. Nova studies him—his stature, his stance, the Darksaber hanging off his hip, the proverbial crown balanced over his helmet—but there’s nothing hardened there, nothing sharp, regardless of how regal he is, how his presence cuts through every room like a knife. When she’s finally close enough to touch him, her hands immediately go to his helmet, pressing her palms against the smooth, cold beskar, an invitation and a question all at once. “Novalise,” he tries, and her name sounds like something more, something deeper, something holy. Quietly, she presses her body against his, letting the coolness of the armor heat up against the soft curves of her skin. “We can’t do this in here—”

“You’re the one,” she breathes, hooking her fingers under the rim of the helmet, “who said this is our place to desecrate.”

Din’s breath comes out sharp and wicked, like he’s been impaled on her words. “And I meant it then,” he manages, as she starts to pull his helmet off, “but now all I want to do is be back out there in the stars. Not be this figurehead. Not being the leader of a dozen people who all hate my guts and want to slaughter me for the throne.”

“You are a leader,” Nova continues, pressing her body closer to his. Even through the armor, she can feel him harden against her touch, stiffening against her trousers, a sign that she’s pushing the both of them closer and closer to the edge. “You’re an excellent leader. Tell me what to do.”

“Nova—”

“This isn’t what this place was made for.”

The sound that erupts from Din’s mouth is even more wicked as the modulator cuts off in the middle of it. Nova pulls the rest of the helmet off of his face, her eyes roaming over every single pore, trying to memorize the way he’s staring at her, half-frenzied, his eyes fluttering somewhere between pleasure and pain.

“Novalise.” Her name still sounds like a prayer. Nova doesn’t break Din’s eye contact, just drops the helmet with a clatter against the floor. It’s loud, deafening almost, but he doesn’t flinch at the sound. “You can’t say things like that to me—”

“Then stop me,” Nova counters. Her heart is hammering. She’s being a brat, she knows she is, a whiny, wheedling baby that only wants one thing, but she can’t help herself. Din’s gloved hand closes around her wrist, squeezing lightly, and even though it makes her heart skip a beat, she’s unhinged and dangerous right now. Silently, she unhinges his hand from where it’s gripping her arm and places Din’s fingers against her throat, leaning into his touch, eyes wide, inviting. “I know you. I know what you want. I know that I made a Rebel out of you, Mand’alor, but I also know that when you give people orders, they’re helpless to do anything other than follow them. You can have whatever you want. You just have to prove it.”

His eyes glint for just a moment. It’s in a flash, over almost as soon as it starts, just a nanosecond, but something glittering and dangerous sparks up behind Din’s measured brown eyes, and Nova barely has time to inhale before his grips tightens around her throat, his other hand anchoring her hips in place. It’s an exact replica of the way he’s held her a million times, but his touch still feels brand new. “I want you.”

Everything stops existing. The war, the ghost town of a planet they’re supposed to rule, the First Order, the insidious war that’s gearing up in the underbelly of the galaxy. The pressure for Din to be a ruler, the urgency of Nova becoming a Jedi, every single piece of their lives fall away. It’s devastating and divine, vivid and vivacious. “Then take me,” Nova breathes, feeling Din harden against her leg, hot and heavy even through her pant leg and the beskar that’s protecting him. “Take me, but do it without armor.”

He stares at her, just for a second, and despite knowing that she has her husband wrapped around her pinky finger, Nova’s own eyes widen, heartbeat quickening, worried she took it a step too far. When Din’s hands disappear from her body, a panicked apology is already trying to hurtle its way out of her mouth, but Din doesn’t break eye contact. His hands pull the armor off of his body, letting each piece clatter at his feet like it’s nothing. Nova’s breath has barely been returned to her lungs by the time that Din’s finished undressing, standing in front of her with nothing but his underclothes, Mandalorian blue, and then he slams himself into her, knocking both of them back a few steps with the centrifugal force. Her knees buckle as she lets herself be swept away, wind knocked right back out through the hollow of her open mouth, Din’s hands purposeful and intentional.

Nova’s pretty sure she’s seen Din this vibrant before, this full of desire, but the way he devours her means something deeper. It’s desperate, and yearning, and haunting, leaving his mark all over her body to be worn as a prize later. His lips trail down her jaw, his teeth sinking into her skin, tongue licking out a symphony on the pulse points he’s expertly mapped over the last year. “Din,” she manages, before his name is sucked straight out of her mouth, and his hands twist and writhe underneath the clothes she’s wearing.

Almost as immediately as he started, his mouth disappears. Nova’s eyes flutter open, trying to find where Din retracted himself to, and his large hands, suddenly bare of the gloves he was wearing just a second ago, grasp onto her face. She inhales sharply as he grabs her, the force of his grip puckering her lips up. Nova feels like putty in his hands, like she’s buzzing. “You want me without armor, cyar’ika?” he asks. Din’s voice is so low, it rumbles straight through her, everything between her legs a hurricane. “You want me to be a ruler?”

Wordlessly Nova nods, trying to coax air back into her lungs. “Yes,” she manages.

There’s something torrential in the low blaze of Din’s eyes. Nova thinks she’s still standing, that he’s keeping her upright, but honestly, she can’t tell. The only thing she’s focused on is the darkened outline of his gorgeous face, the flash of his eyes. “Then I want you like that, too,” Din breathes, yanking the shawl right off of her shoulder. Nova’s hair springs out from underneath it, ricocheting against her face as Din grasps her cheeks, pulling her forehead against his. “No armor. Submissive to what I say.”

Nova gasps, nodding against Din’s touch, and when he tears her clothes off of her, she doesn’t even try to tell him she needs them intact. It’s just fabric. It doesn’t matter, not when his hands can burn against her. When they sink down to the floor of the amphitheatre, kissing so hard their teeth knock together, nothing else exists anymore. It’s just Nova and Din and the stars they’re under, just like always.

The ground is cold against her back, but the second Din pulls his pants down and gets on top of her, the chill is immediately forgotten. Nova stares up at Din, trying to map every single inch of his face, even though she’s already memorized it, even though he’s shown it to the rest of the planet, it still feels so incredibly divine. He’s inhaling sharply, and when she flutters his eyelashes up at him, she nods. Permission. It’s just a second, wordless, but he understands. Usually, Nova wants foreplay, to be kissed, to have every single inch of her body blessed by the man she loves, but that’s not necessary tonight. When he pushes inside of her, hard and warm and huge, she gasps against the pressure. It’s devastating. It’s perfect. It’s hot and heavy and loud, and the force of how Din’s fucking her makes her head slam back agaisnt the floor. Before she can mutter a single word, one of his hands comes up underneath her skull, creating a barrier against Nova and the marble. She lifts her hips, locking her ankles around Din, trying to keep herself in the place he needs her, eyes rolling back in her head.

Somewhere, something devious whispers to her that she’s being used, but right now, Nova doesn’t even care. Every inch of her body is screaming out for Din’s, and every place where he’s touching her feels sacred, complete.

“Nova,” he whispers, and she’s a hymn, a prayer, something deeper than herself in this strange, makeshift place of worship. She wants to talk, to reassure him that she’s here, but then Din’s mouth is back against her lips, ravenous, unyielding. It’s everything. It’s dark in here, and still eerily quiet, and for the first time, she’s unabashed about filling this space up with their noise. It feels like a rite of passage, something divine, especially when Din licks his vows into her mouth, murmuring in Mando’a, swearing in Basic, and his other hand finds the curve of Nova’s hips, lifting her up so he can fuck deeper into her. Suddenly, every single insidious thought evaporates, her hand fluttering down across her stomach to reach her clit.

“Din,” she manages, breathy and disconnected, and immediately, his expert hand knocks hers away, replacing her touch with vigor. Before Nova even has a chance to adjust to his pressure, he’s pushing her over the edge, her oragasm quick and loud, deafening and ecstatic.

“Wait for me,” he grunts, his mouth back on her neck, and Nova’s eyes are flooding with collapsing stars, her ears buzzing, and she wants to apologize that she’s beating him there but when he’s touching her like that, she doesn’t even care. But then Din breaks away from her, angling his hips to slam deeper and deeper into Nova, and his lips tear off her neck, knocking their foreheads together. “Now,” he orders, and his voice is low and commanding, and that alone sends Nova through the roof.

Din grunts as he’s about to cum, writhes into her like it’s the last time that he’ll ever get to touch her. Usually, he pulls out soon afterward, rolls over on his back beside her, but tonight, he just grabs onto Nova’s jaw and stays pulsing in her. Every time his cock twitches with the aftershock, it extends Nova’s own orgasm, and she lets herself be held there, not wanting to move.

“I could,” she starts, panting.

“Stay here forever,” Din finishes, his voice barely anything at all. “I know.”

For what feels like lightyears, they stay together, a tangle of limbs and warmth, trying to catch their collective breaths. Slowly, the rest of the world filters back in, and the quiet, starry darkness of the amphitheatre doesn’t feel desecrated. It feels used, for something better than it was designed for, at that, and Nova feels her heartbeat pound down to a regular rhythm before she lets Din lay down beside her, both of them exhausted, staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant it,” Nova finally says, closing her eyes to feel the hum of her own voice in her throat. One hand is tracing the outline of her scar, the other is tangled up in the discarded shawl that Din thankfully did not eviscerate. “When I said you were a good leader. I think you’re a great one, Din Djarin, and even though I want to be out there.” Nova trails off, gesturing at the ceiling painted with stars, “if staying put means you get to do that, I’ll stay right here. I’ll be a Mandalorian.”

Din’s quiet. Nova doesn’t dare to move, because she knows the significance of what she just said, the crushing weight of it. “I meant it, too,” he whispers, finally. “When I said I’d follow you anywhere.”

Nova inhales sharply, finally turning her head to search her husband’s eyes. “I know,” she murmurs, eyebrows furrowing down the middle. “And I believe you. But what do you want?”

Din’s face is entirely unreadable. Nova counts the beats of her heart as they sit there in the silence, trying to encourage him without saying a single thing.

“You.”

Nova inhales, wetting her mouth with her tongue. “What else do you want?”

Din stares at her, moving only to press the open palm of his bare hand against her cheek. “I want you without armor, too,” he whispers, and then pulls both of them to their feet. Nova knows there’s more to that sentence, but she’s fighting sleep, and she doesn’t want to put pressure on more points than either of them can take. Wordlessly, they redress, and Nova follows Din out of the eerie amphitheatre, out of the maze of tunnels, back to the first floor where the giant war room sits, beskar throne impenetrable at the highest point. She wraps her shawl tighter around ehr shoulders, all the warmth that sex gave them blown away by the startling reality of the situation. Without a word, Din presses the ignition to the holotable, and the strange, blue, fractured image of Nova ten years ago illuminates.

She inhales sharply, her old reflection a sucker punch. Din grabs her hand, and Nova squeezes it, trying to stare at herself head on, without flinching.

“I want to kill off Andromeda Maluev and everyone who’s after her,” Din breathes, his voice so much louder without the barrier of the helmet and the modulator. “I don’t want to rule this planet and ignore the war that’s coming while there are people out there who want you.”

“Din—”

“Listen to me,” Din whispers, grabbing Nova’s face in his hands, and she turns away from her painful reflection, letting him become the only thing she orbits, even if it’s only for a second, even if it’s only for now. “You are Novalise Djarin. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from you.”

Nova’s green eyes flood with tears. Above them, above the mist and fog and haze that hangs over Mandalore like an omen, her stars are sparkling and clear. She inhales, focusing her blurry gaze on her husband, something concrete, something real. “What does that mean?” she whispers, and Din’s right hand goes to her right hip, purposefully knocking into the Skywalker family lightsaber, and Nova’s sharp inhale comes out stuttered.

Din’s eyes are a promise, a prayer. His bare hand smoothes back over her cheek, and something dangerous and pulsing inside of Nova suddenly quiets. “It means,” he says, guiding her own hand down to the weapon hanging from her hip, “that we do what Mandalorians do best. We’ll take it one day at a time,” he continues, and Nova nods, “but we’re going do what we do best. All of us.”

“What are you—?”

“I’m saying,” Din sighs, pointing up through the domed ceiling, and Nova strains her eyes to look through the clouds to the stars above, pulsing and flickering with the promises they’ve made to each other, “that Bo-Katan is going to protect Mandalore, Luke is going to train our kid, Boba and Fennec are going to avenge, Cara’s going to forcefully keep the peace, Karga’s going to figure out who put the bounty on your head, Wedge is going to rally the troops, and you and I are going to save the galaxy.”

There’s a smile on Nova’s face before can register everything Din’s saying. “Din—”

“You’re the only one who gets me without armor,” Din whispers into her ear, and Nova feels the giant door sliding open behind them. She’s going to turn around to yell at Bo-Katan that it’s not the morning yet, and that she just wants one tiny minute of happiness before returning to the weight pressing down on all of their shoulders, but multiple voices filter into the throne room, and Nova lets Din pull her up the steps onto the dais, watching as the space fills up with the people who still make up Mandalore. Bo-Katan raises her chin at them, but something’s replaced the fear and vitriol in her eyes. Din lets his helmet clatter on the floor, the noise loud enough for the rest of the hushed noise in the room to fall quiet. Nova swallows, staring out to the scene of people gathered in front of them, trying to look like a leader, like someone trustworthy. “We’re going to fight,” Din promises, his voice full and honest, a vow, and then he turns to face the people he rules in the center of the room. “Let’s get started.”

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xoxo, amelie

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

Whumptober2021 - October 6th - Hunger

Fandom: Mandalorian

AO3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Note: this is set post-canon

---

The payment is Baskar, which is why Din takes the job tied with it. Normally, Din doesn’t take bounties that aren’t worth his time or sanity, especially when he’s currently already so busy distracting himself from certain black laser-swords and a certain kid that's no longer sitting under the cloak on his back.

He just wants to repair his new (used, broken, got on a discount at some shady market instead of asking anyone for hand-outs) ship. He got in a scuffle in an asteroid belt surrounding some random solar system in the Outer Rim as he was initially just passing by. There were bandits and laser cannons and the next thing he knew he was—for the millionth time in the past his entire life—making an emergency bordering-crash-landing on the closest planet that had any sign of civilization on it.

It’s a planet that’s mostly desert, though not as sandy as Tatooine. It’s a rocky climate with dirt that stains everything red, dotted here and there by bush-like weeds and a determined wiry tree.

He found a mechanic, they told him he didn’t have enough money, and he decided to go to the local tavern to find any kind of work.

The Bartender didn’t have anything, but a group that had been watching him from the second he had stepped in the place did.

They knew of a Mandalorian’s reputation, which is why they knew to bargain with Beskar to get his attention. After that, Din had to take the job. It didn’t matter how much he had lost recently—his ship, his kid, his clan, his identity, everything—he couldn’t just ignore the Beskar sitting on the table next to a small pile of actual money to make it prettier. Soon enough, Din found himself trekking through the hot, barren deserts with these people to help them find a deserter from their local gang. Din didn’t bother to learn their names, or why deserting their gang was such an offense. He just needed the payment to get off this planet and back on his aimless travels.

Besides, this shouldn’t even take long. They know where the deserter is, and while they refuse to let him go alone and handle it himself they at least know of the dangers of this planet.

Just a few days' journey; by foot as to not be spotted by the deserter.

It should be fine.

He didn’t count on the poisonous creatures that lurk the desert grounds, only deterred by a specific device the leader of this group keeps on herself at all times. It’s an expensive little device, he’s told, to get your hands on. For the villages on this planet to survive, they have to have bigger versions of this device all around the borders or else they’ll meet a nasty and gruesome fate by the wildlife. The one she has is small enough to fit on a ring, which is what makes it expensive… and it doesn’t have a very big radius. He’s forced to keep close, practically touching shoulders with someone else the entire way they travel despite there being only five of them in the entire group.

Din first meets just how tedious this mission will be when lunch break comes, and he cannot leave the group to eat in privacy.

He took off his helmet in front of people before… just a little bit ago… but that was for his- that was for Grogu. To save him from the Empire's remnants. He has no regrets about it now; not when the only people to see his face were people he trusted. But here? With four other random people on some planet ridden with gang wars?

He… can’t. This is the way. His way. Taking his helmet off once or twice before won't suddenly change his mind, no matter what Bo-Katan and her group says.

One of the gang members offers him a slice of dried meat, and he shakes his head, saying he’s not hungry.

They shrug, probably assuming he’s some sort of species under all his armor that doesn’t have a fast metabolism, and returns to sit with their group and talk about how happy their boss is going to be when they catch the deserter.

He’ll just wait till nightfall, then he’ll eat when they’re all not watching.

-o-o-o-o-

Nightfall comes right when his stomach is beginning to feel the discomforts of being empty for too long. However, he’s quickly distraught to find that the gang members do not trust him to keep watch during the night while they sleep… and he cannot trust whoever is on watch to not peek at him while he fills his stomach.

They offer him fruits and more dried meat for dinner, but he turns them down.

“You Mandalorians are powerhouses,” laughs the leader of the group, twisting the device that’s keeping them from being killed by all kinds of nasty creatures at this very moment on her middle finger. “Do you ever eat?”

Din doesn’t answer and lays on his cape on the red dirt, ignoring her snort at his attitude and doing his best to ignore his stomach. He’s uncomfortable in his armor, and he feels like there’s no room to breathe despite them being under the open sky. There’s someone to his left, their arm touching his, and if he turns to the right too much he’ll be out of the small radius that device keeps.

He doesn’t get any sleep that night… nor any food.

-o-o-o-o-

“Let me guess, you’re not hungry?” asks one of the gang members in the morning. Din wishes he could say that yes, he is very hungry. He hasn’t eaten since before his ship crash-landed here, and he’s had all night to think about how hungry he is.

But he doesn’t say that. What he does say is: “No. And you should stop asking.”

The gang member shrugs and takes a bite out of their dried meat that’s looking more and more appetizing every time it’s offered to him.

Din resists sighing and silently begs his stomach to keep from grumbling. He can do this, they don’t even have that much further to go before they get to the cave the deserter is camping out in. He’s gone long periods of time without food, sleep, and water before. It’s a challenge he’s had to prepare for from the moment he swore to never show his face to another living creature. Once this is all over, he can eat all he wants from the privacy of his ship or a rented room at an inn.

For now, the others in the group are beginning to walk and Din’s forced to follow along less he wants the venom of a Blood Scrii to turn his insides into liquid… whatever a Blood Scrii is.

-o-o-o-o-

They reach the cave entrance as the red sun is about four fingers from sinking below the horizon. He’s quickly learned that days on this planet lasts longer than what his human body is used to, which does nothing but make him more tired, more hungry, and more thirsty. His stomach has traitorously growled a few times in the last few standard-hours, and his lips feel extremely chapped. Thankfully, he’s managed to keep his body begging for food and water hidden from the others.

The leader slides a pack from her shoulders and pulls out an egg-shaped device the size of his helmet and begins to explain to him that it will temporarily scare away this planet’s predators and give them a big enough radius for any pending fights with the deserter. Because of its large radius, it won’t last longer than a few hours. They set up the device just outside the mouth of the cave, then tell him he’s free to head in there and catch their deserter after pressing a button and turning it on. The device whirs up and begins to hum like it’s already beginning to struggle. Din can only wonder how big and powerful the ones that protect the towns are as he grabs his hand-blaster and goes into the cave alone.

He quickly finds why these people were so insistent at hiring him when he meets the deserter. They’re big and armed with jagged looking swords in each of their four arms.

Luckily, Din’s beskar armor is stronger than the swords, and after taking a few blows that he can feel vibrating into his bones, he manages to take his spear and get a good bludgeon across their head. The deserter shouts and stumbles, but doesn’t go down. Instead, they only get angrier. They shout with raspy anger, charging at Din once again. Din lifts his spear to block, but his stomach suddenly spikes in angry hunger. The pain is so sudden that it distracts him from the charging deserter just enough to finally take a blow to an unprotected spot on his body. The sword tears through the thick fabric around his upper right-arm and into his skin. Din cuts back a shout as he feels the jagged edges of the sword absolutely shred into his bicep and does his best to keep his focus on his opponent before another one of the four swords can bury into his neck.

He punches out his spear and the head buries into the side of the deserter. They howl, stumbling back from Din. The sword in Din’s arm follows, cutting through more skin and muscle as it leaves, but still Din pushes through the pain. The gang members said that it’s preferable to have the deserter alive, but they won’t cut his pay if he’s forced to get lethal. Din’s too injured, exhausted, starving, and dehydrated to give a crap about preferences anymore. He uses his spear that’s still buried in the deserter's stomach to shove them against one of the cave’s walls. Then, he grabs his blaster and shoots them right between the eyes.

The deserter gurgles on their yellow blood, then falls to the ground: dead.

Din tugs his spear out of their stomach, then stumbles. His vision is suddenly very blurry, and his energy is so low he can barely stand. Without thinking, he shoots his injured arm out to the cave’s wall, but shouts as his injury spikes with agony.

“Mando?” a voice calls from the outside of the cave, but Din doesn’t try to answer. His body seems to finally decide to show how angry it is with him by making his sense of balance completely disappear. He falls to the ground, panting and dropping his spear with his good hand to clutch at the gruesome wound in his arm. He hears someone call for him again, but it's so far away.

Everything crashes down on him there. How long has it been since he’s last drank water? Eaten? Slept? He can't tell if his swirling vision and draining energy is from his own self malnourishment or if it's from the very bloody wound in his arm.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath, but then he finds he’s so exhausted that he can’t open them back up.

Consciousness deserts him then, and he falls into blackness soon after.

-o-o-o-o-

He wakes to a tugging on his arm. Immediately hyper aware, Din pulls out his vibroknife and holds it at the throat of the person who was just trying to take off the Beskar pauldron on his shoulder.

“Woah!” they shout, scrambling back and holding their three-fingered hands up in surrender.

“Mandalorian, we’re not going to hurt you,” another voice says. Din blinks, his vision swirling, but eventually manages to make out a familiar figure a few steps away. “You’re injured,” the leader of the group of gang members says softly. “We need to take off the armor around your wound to treat it.”

Pain shoots through his arm and he hisses, dropping his vibroknife as his hand spasms. Once again, he’s used his injured arm accidentally. The gang member approaches again, and Din allows them to. He uses his good arm to take off the pauldron himself then sits still as they cut some of the fabric away to reveal his gruesome wound. The leader leans closer and winces, then looks at Din.

“I knew you were human,” she says. “A wound like this wouldn’t take a Mandalorian down so easily. There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Din stays quiet, but his stomach rumbles traitorously; this time it’s heard.

Thank the stars for his helmet, because a blush rushes to his cheeks as the leader grins at his discomfort.

“You’re lucky you landed on a planet of people who could care less about what the rest of the galaxy categorizes as luxury. We’re out here just trying to survive a planet full of things that want to kill us. Beskar… money… it’s all useless in the grand scheme of things. If you didn’t want to show your face to eat, we would have turned away,” she says.

“You would turn your back from me to eat,” Din replies, deadpanned, “but won't trust me to not stab you in the back while keeping a night watch?”

“A few hours at night when the creatures are most dangerous is a little different than a handful of minutes when the rest of us are awake,” she replies smiling.

The gangster treating his arm suddenly splashes something painful on his wound to clean it. Din clenches his teeth, then curls the hand of his good arm as his wound begins to seal itself shut.

“There’s just enough to stop the worst of the bleeding, but we’ll have to wrap it for the trip back,” explains the gangster, dropping Din’s arm.

Suddenly, a pack is dropped in Din’s lap as the gangster backs away from Din after wrapping his arm. Din glares through his visor at the leader who threw the pack on him, then uses his good arm to open it and look at the contents. Inside, he finds dried meat, some fruits, and a flask of water.

“There’s still some time left,” the leader explains, clearly indicating to the device outside the cave. “Get your energy back in privacy, we have a long trip back to town.”

Din can only nod as the group leaves the cave. The second they’re gone, Din takes his helmet off and watches the entrance out of the corners of his eyes wearily.

He goes for the flask first, and never before has water tasted so good. He downs the whole thing, gasping when it’s empty. There’s a good amount of food in the pack, which he assumes is all for him. He doesn’t eat it all, however, less he wants to make his stomach upset after being empty for so long. The meat tasted as good as it looks, and the fruits gave him even more liquid to cure his dehydration. Once he's done, he closed his eyes and takes several deep breaths.

This… could have gone so much more badly than it had.

He lets his eyes rest and allows himself to enjoy the feeling of a satisfied stomach before he’s called for outside the cave. He opens his eyes and glances at the corpse of the deserter, allowing just a little bit of curiosity to sneak into his mind on what they’ve done that warranted death to these people. What do the gangs mean to these people, when things like money and luxury don’t matter.

He sighs, kills the curiosity on the spot, then bites back a groan as he rises to his feet.

The others are waiting for him, and when he exits the cave he notices a second ring on the leader’s finger. Perhaps it wasn’t about deserting at all, but about the device that they stole when they left.

Regardless, the trip back is easier than the trip there. He’s reluctant to trust them to turn their heads while he eats, so the leader gives him the second ring with a stern warning that they’ll make sure his ship never leaves this planet if he doesn’t return it in fifteen standard-minutes. He takes the ring, some food and water, and leaves to sit along on the other side of some thick bushes. He watches in morbid amusement as a red and green scaled creature scurries away through the sand and out of the ring’s diameter as he takes off his helmet to refresh himself. He also uses this opportunity to empty his bladder.

He returns the ring, and the leader promises to give it to him again when the next meal time arrives.

That night, he isn’t allowed to sit watch, but he does get some rest.

Eventually, they make it back to the city, and Din takes note of the giant poles that stick from the earth with large spheres placed on top and spread around like lamp-posts. They thank him and give him his Beskar and money, then he gives his money to the mechanic to fix his ship.

He spends the night in a local inn, eats his fill and even indulges in a little bit of wine, before he lays in the bed and gets a very rejuvenating rest.

He dreams of a child, one he’s never seen anything like. One that’s snuck through his armor and into his heart. They coo when he calls their name. Their little hands feel soft on his bare face.

He wakes, and sighs, then goes to his newly repaired ship to try once again to go nowhere important besides away. He ignores the laser-sword he keeps untouched on his belt, marks the planet down in his logs as a potential safe place if he ever needs to crash-land again in this area, then takes back to the stars knowing that while things suck and hurt like a bitch, at least there’s still some kindness left in the galaxy.

#the mandalorian #din dijarin #whumptober2021 #no.6 #hunger #fanfiction #jin writes

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 3 years

Text

Zena Lorell

Basics

Full Name: Zena Lorell

Age: 29 as of The Mandalorian: Season One

Sexual Orientation: Demisexual

Appearance

Species: Human

Skin Tone: Medium Tan

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Black

Hairstyle: Short curly bob

Build: Wiry

Height: 5’ 9”

Style: Usually seen in green work coveralls and boots; rarely ever completely clean

Personality

General Personality Traits: Stubborn, Compassionate, Guarded

Strengths: Intuitive, Dependable, Resourceful

Flaws: Abrasive, Stubborn, Withdrawn

Habits And Mannerisms: Always has to be fiddling with something be it tools, a loose coin or even just her hair

Secrets: There was a time, right when everyone her age was leaving either enlisting in the Imperial army or running off to the rebellion where she wished her father would just die already. She felt awful thinking it. Her father wasn’t a bad man, but he was a drunk a couldn’t look after himself. There were times he’d go on a bender and she hoped maybe she’d wake up, somebody would knock on her door and tell her, her father was gone. But it didn’t happen, and she would get this twisting feeling in her stomach every time the thought crossed her mind.

Regrets: Not leaving Mir years ago

Skills/Talents: Brilliant mechanic, excellent judge of character, able to contort herself into small spaces despite her height

Likes: Puzzles, Open skies, Exploring new planets

Dislikes: Alcohol, Thunder, Having to wear anything with a skirt

Guilty Pleasure: Doesn’t have many pleasures to feel guilty about; however I do see her having the equivalent of basic bitch music taste, will listen to any bad cheesy pop song that comes over the airwaves in a galaxy far far away

Defining Moment: Realizing the money doesn’t really matter to her anymore and she just wants to stay on The Razor Crest

Relationships

Friends: None really, she has acquaintances and not much else. But, Din gets there eventually.

Enemies: Imps (Imperials)

Rivals: She’s always in friendly competition with fellow mechanics to find the quickest and more efficient solution, but that’s all business. No personal rivals to speak of.

Lovers: She has an ex-boyfriend who went off to fight in the rebellion and never came back. She doesn’t know if that means he’s dead or just never wanted to come back. Other than that, nothing.

Relationship Status: Single and not interested in mingling. (At least at the moment)

Reputation: Doesn’t flirt and has a hard time recognizing when she’s being flirted with; has been called the equivalent of “fringed bitch” in a variety of languages over the years

Miscellaneous

Current Residence: The Razor Crest

Collections: Various fine tools meant for a variety of droids, ships and so on

Accent: Standard American

Voice: Low and a little husky

Signature Quote: “You owe me.”

Song: TBA

Backstory

Zena was born in a small outpost on the plateaus of Mir, a small planet in the far most reaches of the Outer Rim. Living so far from the core worlds, the population of Mir was able to stay out of The Clone Wars since neither the Republic nor the Separatist thought it held any strategic value. If was only after the end of the war did the population start to feel the reach of the Empire. Zena spent her early life following her father around in his workshop, asking questions when she could and staying quiet when men in uniforms and white armor came in to make special requests.

It was also during this time, she started to become aware of her father’s problems with alcohol. While he was functional for the most part, there was more than one occasion where she and her mother would have to go into the shop and finish wiring on a droid or ship just before the costumer arrived. Between her and her mother, they were able to keep it all together. Her father had a better grip on himself and was always loving and supportive when he was sober. But, things took a turn for the worse when Zena’s mother died unexpectedly leaving it just the two of them when she was seventeen.

Her father took it badly and Zena essentially inherited the business, working hard to keep them afloat. It was also during this time a lot of her friends were leaving Mir. The Imperial Academy was a guarantee ticket off world and promised a steady paycheck to send back to the folks and the ability to see the galaxy. A lot of people took it, despite a lot of grumbling about “core world folks butting their noses into people’s business”. Others still were starting to get wise to what a threat the Empire was. Rebels cells were growing on neighboring planets and some left without a word.

Zena wanted to join them, but she knew she couldn’t leave her father all on his own, even if she could send him money. So, she stayed and soon enough, she was left behind. She honed her craft, gaining a reputation of being one of the best mechanics in the system. There were still moments where her dad would sober up long enough to help in the shop and the two of them could have long conversations like they used to, but like clockwork he’d find himself in the cantina again and Zena would be left on her own.

She kept on like that until finally the alcohol finally took its toll. Her father died in his sleep when she was twenty four, just after Mir had gotten news of the destruction of the second Death Star and the death of the Emperor. She was free.

For the next five years, she started saving money. Every little bit of credits she could hoard together, she kept hidden all over her house. She was going to leave Mir. She was going to get her own ship, be her own Captain, and fly away from that hellhole and never look back. Finally, she was going to do what she wanted to do. That is, until a Mandalorian came into her shop asking for information.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars oc #sw oc #the mandalorian oc #zena lorell

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mashupxreader · 3 years

Text

Little Buddy.

Hello, Lovebugs.

Din Djanin X Fem Reader

Warnings - none yet but this will be a multi chapter thing that will eventually have lots of smut.

Summary - You need a job and Peli agrees you can work on the Razor Crest for her.

Chapter 2!

You suppose you should have expected this. Out on the street with a pathetic bag filled with clothes and no units to your name. You had been bouncing around on friends couches until you had overstayed your welcome. The problem this time was that you were out of couches to crash on. All your friends were sick of you, not that you could blame them. You had become pathetic with no home, no job, and no drive to change that.

There were few options for you on tatooine for a job. You had no true credentials. You had worked on the junk your father had around his little shop but you didn't have any true training it was everything you taught yourself. After he passed you had nothing. He owed everyone around so they took what they could to repay themselves for his debt. You knew you had one last option but you had been putting it off for as long as possible. Peli had given you a few odd jobs in the past but it had been a while since you had seen her. You essentially had a temper tantrum and stormed off from her hanger. You were young and dumb and in pain from the losses you had. Hopefully, she could see it in her heart to forgive you and let you work to make enough credits to at least get a place of your own.

You made your way down to Peli tail between your legs ready to beg on your knees when an old ship landed on the platform. From the looks and sound of it, the old space junk needed some serious TLC. You continued walking over to Peli catching her eye once the dust had fully settled. She gave you a knowing smirk with a hand on her hip as if to say look whos back. You sighed rolling your eyes. Get through this y/n just a few jobs and then you can come and go as you pleased. You mustered a smile hoping it looked less fake then it felt on your face. You had made it beside Peli when she looked at you before turning to the person coming off the ship. To both of your surprises, it was a Mandalorian. Suddenly the little speech you had been practicing on the way over escaped your mind. You were distracted from looking at the tall Mandalorian followed by a little silver ball floating behind him. This was definitely not a normal occurrence even for Tatooine. He stopped in front of the two of you stiff and serious. The little droids Peli kept around the hanger starting to make their way over to the ship before Mando shot towards one scaring them away.

“Hey!” Peli said ready to straight-up fight a man way bigger than her. “You damage one of my droids you pay for it.” You had to admit Peli had no fear when it came to her turf.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” the modulated voice said clearly not afraid of the shorter woman in front of him.

“You think that's a good idea, do ya? Let's look at your ship.” Peli started to do her walk around clipboard in hand already adding the credits up in her head. She started to do her typical run through that you had seen a million times over. She was a businesswoman who knew how to upcharge a stranger. “Oof! Look at that. Ugh, you got a lot of carbon scorin building up top. Yeah.” she continues looking around poking and pulling as she goes. The Mandalorian was clearly unamused with her little show. She kept mumbling to herself about needing a special tool for this and that it looked like someone was doing target practice on the ship. The Mandalorian cleared his throat to get Peli’s attention.

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits.” The Mando pulled them out from a small pouch to prove to her he wasn't here to waste her time.

“That's all you got?” Peli said grabbing the credits from him. “Well, what do you think y/n?” You were surprised to hear your name. Honestly, you thought asking for a job would be more painful with pleading and flattery. You paused looking from the ship to the two other people in front of you.

“It will at least cover the hanger,” you said with a shrug. Your haggling skills were never the best and had gotten you yelled at a few times from your father and Peli about upselling to make a living.

“I’ll get you your money,” He said pausing before pushing the button on the little floating orb behind him. Peaking out was a little green creature with the biggest eyes and even bigger ears you have ever seen. It had the smallest little pout probably upset about being woken up from its nap. “I need you to watch him I have a job I need to take care of.” You couldn't help yourself you were drawn to it. Going over to the makeshift pram you reached out to pick up the little thing as it reached out to be picked up.

“What's its name?” You said looking to the Mando as you softly rubbed one of the giant ears on its head.

“I don't know his name. I just call him kid. So we got a deal? I’ll pay for the repairs and for the cost of watching the child.” Peli Hummed from a second before agreeing to his terms. With that, the Mandalorian grabbed a bag from the ship and went off to what you assumed was the job he spoke of.

“Bye Mando,” you said showing the child Mando leaving he cooed moving his ears down sadly. You felt for the little guy being left with two random ladies wasn't exactly what you would want either. “Are you hungry?” you asked the little guy suddenly seeing him brighten at the thought of getting a snackie. You turned around to take him into Peli’s area before being stopped by her in your tracks.

“Nice try y/n, I get the kid you get to work on the pile of space rubble.” Peli had her hands out for the child to be grabbed by her already baby talking to him giving him the pet name womp rat. She started to walk away before turning back to you. “Oh and welcome back y/n.”

You spent the next few days working on the ship with Peli. Every so often she would come over to check your work suggesting different things but otherwise, the two of you fell into the regular rhythm that you had been used to in working with her. The ship was truly in bad shape. Maybe the Mandalorian just wasn't that good at upkeep but he needed to start if he didn't want it to break down in the middle of space. The work was long and made your arms and legs have a familiar ache that reminded you of sleeping on different couches the past year. While working the child would sleep in his little floating pram or play around with the droids. When night would come you would play with him using random object around the shop as toys. His motivation in life however was food. He loved to eat everything and anything he could get his hands on. You were sure you had caught him eating random little creatures around outside. It didn't make him less adorable but you had to wonder where his insatiable appetite came from.

Peli let you sleep on the cot that she had around from the past when you would stay with her. It was very uncomfortable with the metal pushing into your back and sides when you would lay down in it. Yes, beggars can't be choosers but if you could you would choose something with a little more fluff. One of the nights you were laying staring at the ceiling when you heard the child start to stir. At first, they were little sounds like he was dreaming before turning into full-on tears. You snuck over to the orb looking down at the poor little guy. Clearly, he was having a nightmare. You thought back to when you would have nightmares when you were little. Your father would always rub soothing circles into your back to help you feel better. Grabbing the child in your arms you let him rest his head on your shoulder before you started to rub circles onto his tiny back. At first, his little whimpers were loud in your ear breaking your heart as he tried to let the soothing take over him. You lightly shushed him telling him all the typical things like you were there and he was okay. Eventually, after a lot of convincing and a few hiccups after the tears, he fell back asleep on you. You considered putting him back in the orb but you didn't want to wake him. At least that's what you were telling yourself because truthfully the cuddles made you feel so much better. No one had hugged you in so long that it felt nice to be needed.

Waking up you realized that you had slept sitting up leaning against the wall while holding the kid. You were definitely going to be paying for that later when your muscles would be screaming at you asking what the fuck you were thinking. For now, you were just happy that the kid didn't have any more nightmares that night. You could only imagine the things he had seen to end up being in the care of a Mandalorian. You started to hum very lightly to him when you felt like someone was watching you. Looking over you saw the Mandalorian looking at the two of you in your little cuddle puddle.

“He likes you.” the sound of his voice was slightly rough like he was in desperate need of some sleep and water. You nodded starting to stand before realizing your legs were numb from being in the position they were with the kid. Just as you felt like you were about to hit the ground the Mandalorian caught you holding you up while you found your balance. His gloved hands were rough against your skin. His grip was tight but not to the point you felt like he was going to leave a bruise. You gave him a little thanks before placing the child back in the pram. He gave a few little huffs before settling back into his blankets.

“I can show you everything we did on the ship if you want then I can grab Peli.” The Mandalorian simply nodded not giving anything away with that helmet. For all, you knew he could be rolling his eyes and you would be none the wiser. Walking around the ship Mando followed making small comments here and there about your work but overall was satisfied. Turning back to him you finally were able to take in just how much taller he was than you. He was broad and intimidating just to look at. You didn't want to imagine what it would be like having him chase you down as a bounty.

Peli came around the corner with the child following behind. The moment he saw you he made a squealing sound not even caring his father was back from his trip. Mando noticed turning his head to the side clearly surprised the excitement wasn't for him. You went to the child touching his ear softly looking at him closing his eyes. Mando and Peli dealt with the payment as you said good bye to the kid. How did he manage to make you fall in love with him so quickly? You barely noticed Peli call your name to get your attention.

“Oh sorry, Yes?” you said letting go of the kid and taking a step back. Mando looked over at you clearly amused by the way you and the child had already made a bond. It reminded him of how quickly he grew attached to him too.

“I have been looking for someone to watch the kid while I go on jobs. Plus you know your way around a ship. Would you consider working for with me for a couple of weeks?” Did the Mandalorian just give you your free ride off this stupid planet? You didn't think for long before your answer.

“Absolutely.” Mando nodded towards Peli as a final thank you before walking towards the ship the child’s pram following behind him as the kid tried to reach to Mando finally ready for his father’s attention. He really was a man of very few words not that it mattered to you. You ran to your little cot grabbing your bag that had your whole life in it. This was exactly the thing you needed. Running up to Peli she shoved some credits into your hand. “Thank you. For everything. Especially letting me come back after every time I leave.” She rolled her eyes nodding her head to the ship where Mando was waiting for you.

“I’ll always be here for you kid. Be careful out there.” With that, she gave you a little shove towards the ship before walking back to get away from the dust that will be kicked up from the ship. You made your way up the ramp looking back at Peli before closing the ramp. You threw your bag on the floor before crawling up the ladder to the cockpit. There Mando sat in the pilot seat with the child in the seat to his right. You sat down with a small smile on your face.

“Ready?” Mando asked as he flicked a few switches.

“Ready,” you said looking at the kid who cooed in response as the ship began to take off.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin

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kittinoir · 3 years

Text

Phantoms Ch. 13

Read on Ao3

“Wake up.”

Chloe ignored the voice. She’d learned a while ago it wasn’t real, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the company. She tried not to dwell on that too much. She’d deal with her trauma responses once she was no longer experiencing the trauma.

But it was persistent today.

“Chloe,” it came again. “Wake up”.

This time, she felt something touch her shoulder. That was new. How many days had it been since she’d eaten now?

“Dammit, Chloe, I’ll carry you out of here if I have to, but I really don’t want to.”

She laughed at that, a choked rasping sound that scraped from her parched throat - another thing she was trying not to think about. “Liar,” she whispered.

“Please,” the voice begged, closer this time. Cool hands touched her wrists, her cheek. “Please, Chloe. Get up.”

That caught her attention. The voice had cajoled her, berated her, taunted her, but it had never begged before.

She cracked an eyelid, squinting against the soft glow of the sun lamps that lit the space. “…Felix?”

A rough laugh, like rocks scraping together. “Yes.”

“You’re here?” Chloe asked, coming more fully awake. She felt like she couldn’t pull the scattered pieces of her mind together long enough to form a thought. “You came?”

“Of course I came,” he said as he helped her slowly sit up. “Why wouldn’t I come?”

“Thought it might be…a waste of your time,” she breathed. She didn’t mean to hurt him; his last words were the only thing she’d managed to hold onto, and the only thing that came easily now. She felt her eyelids slide closed again, but she was too tired to do anything about it.

“That was a lie,” Koira said quietly. He was close enough she could feel the warmth, the realness of him. “A lie that I told myself so I wouldn’t get attached.”

Chloe frowned, dragging her eyes open long enough to seek his face. It was close, closer than he’d ever been. “Attached?”

“I would love to have an at-length conversation in the ways I find you completely captivating,” Koira said as Viperion rounded a corner, “But now is hardly the time. We have to get out of here.”

“I’ve tried,” Chloe said, trying to ignore how much more awake she felt now - and how hard her heart was pounding. “Gabriel didn’t just settle for taking my Miraculous.” She tugged on the reinforced steel chain and manacle around her left wrist.

“Nothing Chat Noir can’t take care of,” Viperion suggested before his transformation wore off and Zazz reappeared. Five minutes already. Hopefully Alya wasn’t having any trouble keeping their illusions lively. “Here you are.” Luka pulled a pack of goldfish crackers from the pocket of his hoodie and opened it for his kwami.

Zazz hadn’t taken more than two bites before a scream tore through the room.

“NO!”

Luka was already running, calling on his transformation as he went, but a dim light went off in Chloe’s head: whatever it was, it was already too late - Viperion’s timer had run out.

“Doesn’t sound good,” she said, willing herself to alertness.

“It never does with this bunch,” Koira muttered. “Either way, time to go.”

He didn’t give her time to brace herself. In a matter of seconds, Koira had raised his hammer over his head and brought it down in a shining arc to where the chain was attached to the wall.

“Huh,” Koira said, examining the nearly unmarked metal. “Gabriel’s talents are wasted on supervillainry.”

“Got a plan B?”

“That was plan B.”

“So now what?”

Koira’s face was grim. “Back to plan A. Chat Noir!”

But it was Ryuuko who took shape out of thin air, brandishing her katana. “We’ve lost him.”

Chloe blinked, unable to make sense of the absurd statement.

“Lost who?” Koira said with a frown.

“Chat Noir,” Ryuuko ground out. “Akuma.”

“You brought him here?” Chloe demanded as Ryuuko’s words finally clicked. “You brought him here?!”

“Do you think that anything short of Gabriel’s magical manacles would have kept him away?” Koira growled. “Is there a better way to find out your father’s a supervillain?”

“There might have been a better setting,” Chloe snapped. “Preferably one where I’m not chained to a wall.”

“I’ll try to make other arrangements next time,” Koira snarled before looking up at Ryuuko. “What are we dealing with then?”

“It’s hard to…he looks the same, but in white.

Chloe’s brow creased. “So he’s…Chat…Blanc?”

“Unlimited cataclysms,” Koira murmured. “Sounds fun.”

“Don’t mock him,” Ryuuko snapped, her fingers tightening on her katana. “He’s in pain.” And then she was gone, darting back into the fight they could still hear carrying on.

“Yeah, well, we’re all going to be in pain if he gets his hands on us,” Koira muttered to no one in particular.

“We need the Bee Miraculous back,” Chloe said, tugging weakly on her chain. “If I can just incapacitate him - ”

“Are you joking?” Koira demanded, rounding on her. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“I’m not in any hurry to die, either!”

“KOIRA!”

Viperion’s shout was the only warning they got. Koira seized it. Instead of calling his power like he wanted to, he yanked Chloe to his chest and pressed them both up against the wall. He pulled her chain taut and whispered a prayer to whatever god might be listening. For the briefest moment, he felt Chloe curl into him, her body warm and real and whole against his.

Then the explosion sent them both flying in a shower of stone rubble.

He didn’t loosen his grip on Chloe once, not even as he landed on his shoulder hard enough he heard something crack. He grunted in pain as they skidded across the stone floor.

“Felix? Felix!”

Koira shook his head clear and realized Chloe was struggling against the grip he still held her in. He forced himself to relax, his muscles aching with the strain.

“Ok, not as much fun as previously anticipated,” he gasped out as he hauled himself into a sitting position.

“You idiot!” she shouted, grabbing the fur ruff at his neck. The tail of the chain still attached to her rattled against the floor. “What did you think you were doing!”

“Plan A,” Koira managed, “With some modifications.”

“He nearly took my arm off!”

“As if I would let you get hurt,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her free wrist.

You already did. Chloe finally blinked as her left hand drifted back down to her lap, the words waiting on her tongue. She didn’t need to say them; she could see that he knew it, too.

“They need help,” she said instead as another blast rocked the room. “Go. I can take care of myself.”

Koira made a face, his gaze darting pointedly down to the manacle still on her wrist, but didn’t mention it as his fingers slipped from her skin. “Do I need to tell you to get as far away from here as fast as you can?”

“I’m dehydrated, not stupid,” Chloe snapped. Koira just gave one last exasperated shake of his head before he stood and darted into the fray.

No, he did not need to tell her to run. It would have been a waste of time - she wasn’t going anywhere. Miraculous or no, she was still Queen Bee, and she owed Gabriel for his hospitality.

Chloe remained in a crouch as she scuttled forward towards the sounds of the fight. Her joints ached in protest and every beat of her heart begged her to lie down. She ignored them.

She paused when she was close enough she could see shadows dancing just on the other side of the table she was behind. If she remembered correctly, they were battling it out in the atrium where she’d first entered.

Ryuuko was talking. “Koira, if you use Full Counter - ”

“No!” Viperion gasped as he dodged a cataclysm. “He’s too powerful like this. It’ll kill him!”

Chloe shivered. How many times had Viperion reset their timer already? How many of them had died?

“I’m open to other ideas,” Koira said.

“We’re running out of time!” Ladybug shouted over the din. “I need to figure out my Lucky Charm.”

“Go,” she heard Viperion say. “We can keep him busy for a few minutes.”

Before Ladybug could respond, a horrible laugh echoed through the room, quiet at first, then manic. “You’ll keep me busy? I’m going to tear you apart!”

Chloe’s heart thudded in her chest. Adrien. She had never heard him sound like that before. Akumatized or not…something had broken in him. No wonder Hawk Moth had seized this opportunity. No wonder Adrien hadn’t been able to fight back. Perhaps she’d been wrong about the setting. Maybe keeping him contained in this basement cavern was for the best.

Suddenly, Ladybug was there, rolling into a crouch after vaulting over the table.

“Chloe!” Ladybug blurted, her eyes going wide. “What…you’re ok!” She frowned. “You need to get out of here. It isn’t safe.”

Even as she spoke, Chloe didn’t miss the way Ladybug kept fiddling with her Lucky Charm, a pair of bolt cutters, or the wild, haunted look in her eyes. Abruptly, Ladybug zeroed in on the chain coiled at Chloe’s feet.

“You! That’s why I couldn’t figure it out.”

“Me?”

“These must have been to free you from the wall,” Ladybug said. “We need you to win.”

Chloe couldn’t meet Ladybug’s eyes as she said, “Koira and Chat Noir kind of already took care of it, but, Ladybug…Hawk Moth took my Miraculous.”

“It’s still you, Chloe,” Ladybug insisted, leaning in to lay a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “I don’t know how exactly, but - ”

“Ladybug!” Chloe interrupted. Ladybug’s sudden closeness had given her a view of the heroine’s ears.“Your earrings! You’re going to detransform.”

Ladybug grit her teeth in frustration. “That’s ok. It was time for a new Lucky Charm anyway. Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybug sent the Lucky Charm skittering away from them across the floor. It burst into thousands of glowing Ladybug’s that swept the room, repairing the damage done. Chloe heard the surprised gasps of their teammates as their injuries were healed.

No sooner had the ladybugs finished a final sweep of the room then did Ladybug’s transformation itself dissolve. Yards of pale pink fabric spilled out around her, and Chloe was surprised to see she had her hair down for once.

“You dressed up for a rescue mission?” Chloe whispered as Marinette caught an exhausted Tikki in her palm.

“Gabriel’s charity auction,” Marinette said by way of explanation. “Seemed like the best time to sneak in. We were supposed to be ghosts.”

Chloe thought on it. “I’ve been here for four days then.”

“I’m sorry. We only found out this morning. The teacher’s said you were down with some kind of flu - I guess a lie from your father,” Marinette said bitterly. “Koira’s the only reason we knew to look.”

“Koira?”

“I guess he got your message the next time he finally transformed,” Marinette said as she watched Tikki finish her cookie. “He was manic. I’m surprised he even bothered to tell us first.”

Chloe tried to ignore the way her heart stumbled at that. Even after their fight, he’d kept his promise.

And then the table vanished.

Chloe flinched as it exploded against a nearby wall and shrapnel went whipping through the room. She felt some of it bite into her arm and leg. A white-hot line scored her cheek where she was sure another piece had narrowly missed her eye.

“Hiding, my love? That hurts.”

He was the most horrible thing Chloe had ever seen, a twisted replica of her friend. The only bit of colour in the sea of white were ice-chip blue eyes that were devoid of anything but rage. He was Adrien, but not. Adrien never got angry. Adrien was never violent. And Adrien had certainly never looked at Marinette like that - like he would devour her whole.

“Run!”

Marinette had grabbed Chloe by the arm and was sprinting back the way Chloe had come before she could even fully understand what had happened. Her chain clanked noisily on the floor as they ran, seeming to urge them to go fast, faster.

“Go,” Chloe panted, dizzy with the exertion. “I’m just slowing you down. You need to transform, not run.”

“I can do both,” Marinette huffed. “Tikki - !”

An explosion rocked the floor before Marinette could finish, sending both girls flying. Chloe felt the air rush from her lungs as she hit the floor and was left gasping, in too much pain to breathe in again. Her lungs squeezed.

She screwed her eyes shut, focusing on slowly taking a deep breath through the pain, even as her ribs protested. Again. Again. Again.

When Chloe could finally breathe through the worst of it, she pushed herself back up and opened her eyes to what she instantly knew would give her nightmares for weeks to come:

Marinette in her beautiful pink gown, the ribbon trailing from her hair, caught up against Chat Blanc with her back to his chest, his hand cupping her cheek, and no one to help.

#Phantoms #Lucky number 13 #MariBlanc

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