Dear Wishmonger, I’ve enjoyed your writing for quite some time, it has a certain elegance and prose that I can’t help but adore and I do hope to keep seeing your wonderful writing in the future. But I simply had a question, if you’d like to answer. Do you believe any of the Zabrak brothers would ever get involved with a Jedi? Or perhaps someone force-sensitive but not connected to any side? Thank you so much for continuing to feed us with your lovely writing.
Thank you, anon. It pleases me to know that some of our offerings resonate with you. As this is a direct question I'll do my best to outfit you with a direct answer rather than something fictive as is the impression I'm getting from your ask.
Firstly, if you're a creator, you need no one's permission to dabble in whatever dynamic interests you when it comes to these characters, and the question of whether they would or they won't is up to you to answer based on your personal preference and not some prescription, because even within the constraints of canon and knowing what we know of Maul and Savage, a deft hand can guide their journeys in such a way that alters their thinking and impacts their actions -- even and especially under circumstances that appear unexpected.
Maul in particular was trained from an early age to hate the Jedi, but on the midway, the focus shifts that animosity to one Jedi and a mission of futile revenge that carries him through the rest of his life. But wouldn't it be interesting if he met someone else along the way that could alter his perception of the Force and its nature, thereby altering him and instigating a paradigm shift? Change his perception of the universe and his place in it? Change his fate, once robbed from him, now restored with renewed purpose?
What would you want him to hear, if that were the case?
In my heart of hearts (and I have several to work with), I would hope that he would learn that he need not be alone, regardless any differences and demarcations that should create division between him and a lover... even a Force user who claims perfect neutrality (how juicy!), because Maul is the fulcrum that catalyses the dynamic with the strength of his experience.
I think we should remember that the nature of the Force is rooted in duality, but neither can exist without the other: the light is always rendered brighter when offset against darkness, and doesn't that make for an interesting dynamic when the idealogies of either side don't necessarily agree with each other?
Where possible, I opt for conflict between characters to see how the shared adversity might shape their futures when the Force endeavours to thrust opposites together.
No one said it needed to be a pain-free process... in fact, that's what I'd hope for, because absent conflict, there is only pwp. (A/N: Broad stroke generalization here to make at least one joke.)
A/N: We finally made it through episode 2x1/9!!!! This is the most episode heavy part, and I apologize for that. I guess spoiler warning if you haven’t seen the show? Lots of dialogue from the show. Future parts won’t be this episode/dialogue heavy.
(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes right to the end of episode 2x1/9, The Marshal.)
I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Cobb Vanth is…. Himself.
Word count: 5,364
As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.
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Xxx
Vanth explained how he came to have the armor as your little party sped across the desert. He may have been a flirt and a bit rough around the edges, but you felt yourself warming to him slowly. His heart was in the right place, and what he did was selfless and brave. If anyone was going to do anything while wearing Mandalorian armor, this was the right use for it. He was just protecting his town and its people. You’d like to think you’d do the same, given the circumstances.
Pulling into a canyon, you both slowed the speeder bikes down, when suddenly there was an ominous, echoing howl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was low, almost a growl, and unlike anything you’d ever heard.
Holding up his hand in a motion to stop, Vanth pulled to the side in a sweeping move, situating his speeder between him and the noise, so you followed suit. Din was already off the speeder with his rifle drawn and braced on the seat by the time you made it off the bike. Scrambling behind him as the canyon walls echoed with the eerie cry, the sand seeming to want to swallow your feet and keep you from moving efficiently, you glanced at the child in his satchel seat on the back as you perched behind Din’s shoulder.
The child whined softly before withdrawing into the sack to hide, making you swallow roughly, your eyes turning toward where the sound was growing louder just a few yards ahead.
Glancing to Vanth, you saw his rifle drawn, you heard the safety click off, and motion out of the corner of your eye drew your gaze back in front of you. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen, a four legged creature with menacing jaws that you had no hope of describing any further past that. It’s menacing aura taking up the whole of your focus. More of them step out from behind the rocks, and you lose count after three.
Out of nowhere, Din lets out a bellow from deep in his gut, the sound echoing off the stone walls. The creatures freeze, turning to him curiously, and you’re sure you do much the same.
Setting his Amban sniper rifle back on the speeder, he got up and walked around the little shelter it provided, gesturing with his hand to wait when Vanth began to protest. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to say something, too. To keep him there with you, safe behind the tiny cover the bike gave, hidden in its shadow, or to grab your own blaster at your hip and run along beside him. But you trusted him.
Walking out in front of the beasts, he grabbed something out of a pocket on his belt, and you realized it was one of the child’s snacks. He had gotten one out at the cantina what felt like a lifetime ago now. Glancing over to the kid, you saw him leaning back out of his satchel, and when he noticed the cookie in his caretaker’s grip, his eyes narrowed accusingly. The corner of your mouth twitched up the slightest bit at the exchange before it faded back to a thin line as your focus returned to the Mandalorian.
After more exchanges of what you could only call grunts, the creature happily ran up to him, making you take in a sharp breath, holding onto it until you processed that the creature took the snack, and was contentedly groaning as Din rubbed its side fondly. All the other creatures in the pack seemed to relax as well, and it seemed the disaster had been avoided, until three tall robed figures emerged from behind the rocks.
You may have never left Coruscant before, but you knew enough to know these were Sand People. Tusken Raiders. The nomads who survived in the harsh wilds of Tatooine for centuries.
Once again your breath is stolen and refuses to come again as you take in the newcomers, a breath you didn’t know you were holding escaping as Din rises to his feet slowly and begins to converse with them in the same strange grunting language. He begins to gesture with his hands in precise, calculated movements, and you realize it’s part of their language. You’re not surprised he knows this, it’s a fact you’d know for a while that he knew multiple languages. But you were still in awe as you watched him, something akin to pride swelling in your chest as he calmly conversed with them.
“What’s he doing?” Vanth hissed at you, eyes never leaving the situation, same as the aim of his rifle.
“He’s helping,” you smiled as you continued to watch the exchange. They echoed his sounds, hands gesturing back, a back and forth.
“Hey, partner, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Vanth said a little louder, directing his attention toward Din.
Turning toward your companion, Din spoke calmly. “They want to kill the kryat dragon, too.”
After another brief exchange with the Tuskens, Din made his way back toward the speeder, stopping to rub the creature's head one last time, making its back leg thump in ecstasy.
“We’ll follow them to their camp, stay there tonight while we discuss terms, then go see the kryat in the morning to make a plan.”
Vanth let out a scoff, but obliged all the same, stowing his rifle away on the bike and getting back on his speeder.
“Can you teach me?” You asked Din suddenly, making him pause as he tightened his rifle back down.
“Teach you what?”
“Languages. Well, right now - not right now right now, later - specifically what you were just doing with your hands,” you gestured with your own hands in a poor imitation of it before waving it away like a bad smell. “I don’t think I can do the whole grunting thing, but-” you took a deep breath, your excitement getting the better of you. “-in general, I want to know how to speak to people we meet.”
Vanth let out a snort over the roar of his speeder. “Did you catch all that?”
You huffed, rolling your eyes before looking back at Din.
“Yeah, I did,” Din said, and you could have sworn he was smiling under the helmet. “I speak her language.”
Xxx
You sat to Din’s left by the fire in the Tusken camp. He sat up on top of a crate, the child between his feet with the crate at his back. Vanth sat to his right on a low bench, looking extremely uncomfortable in the company of so many Tuskens.
You watched in amazement as Din conversed back and forth with them yet again, a faint smile on your face.
They pulled out two small dark melons, pushing their thumbs into them to break them open, and an opaque steam rose up from the contents. One was handed to Vanth, one to yourself, and you took it with a smile, not wanting to be rude.
Vanth sniffed his briefly before mumbling to Din, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You drink it,” Din said simply.
Hearing this, you shrugged, taking a deep breath, and took a sip. It didn’t taste great, in fact, it didn’t taste good, it was dubious, but you swallowed it, lowering the melon held in both your hands slowly down to your lap. Trying to suppress a violent shudder, you plastered a small smile on your face, letting out a quiet, delayed, “Mmmm…. Interesting.” Looking up toward Din, you saw him looking at you, as well as everybody else, but the tilt of his helmet showed his amusement at your reaction.
The kid was looking at you with a somewhat disgusted face, and you filed that away for later, finally finding something he didn’t want to eat.
“Well that sold it,” Vanth muttered sarcastically, looking away from you and staring at his own melon. “It stinks.”
“Do you want their help?” Din asked dryly, shoulders somewhat hunched as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees with a sigh.
“Not if I have to drink this.”
After that it turned chaotic, the Tuskens becoming angered at his refusal, and Vanth shooting accusations right back, even tossing his mellon into the fire, angering them further, and Din caught in the middle having to translate between them.
Finally, Din stood up, fire blasting from his vambrace, and everyone stilled, except for the child, who looked up with wide eyes and cooed happily.
He brokered a truce between them, ending with, “Now how do we kill it?” as he used the hand signs in their language to benefit both parties.
After more back and forth, though much calmer this time around, the Tuskens retired for the night, going to various tents around the camp.
Vanth let out a groan, scrubbing his hands down his face as he slumped further into the bench behind him and the sand beneath him, hands parting to hold his face on each cheek, giving his head a gentle shake. His eyes were wide as he stared into the fire with a look you’d seen people walk into your bar with one too many times. You wanted to lend an ear, but something about him was asking for space, so you stayed where you were.
Turning his face to you, Din sighed, turning on the crate he sat on to fully face you, once again sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, leaning in closer to you. Turning where you sat in the sand to face him, you mirrored his stance with your crossed legs, smiling as you settled your chin on your fist.
He let out a huff of laughter before sighing. “Well, that was something.”
“I’ll say,” you agreed. “Also, I had no idea you could shoot fire out of your vambrace, so I’ll ask again, where does it all go?”
He chuckled. “I can do it with both of them.”
“Showoff,” you mumbled, glancing over to check on the kid, finding him poking at Vanth’s discarded melon sitting on the ground near the fire.
Din turned his head to follow your gaze, moving to reach out toward the kid and stop him, but you put your hand on his arm quickly, shushing him. He tilted his visor at you for a second before turning back to the kid.
The child tentatively poked the melon, becoming braver when nothing happened. Reaching out he pulled it towards him, rolling it off of its side, and a thin wisp of the opaque mist wafted to his nose, making him take a deep sniff, then promptly gag, shoving the melon away with vigor, backing himself away at the same time.
You and Din both burst out laughing. The child startled at the sound, looked and realized he was being watched, he started crying, letting out little pathetic whimpers.
“Oh, buddy,” Din said through chuckles, scooping the small green child into his arms, unable to stop his laughing.
You took the kid from him, holding him close as he pouted, and you mimicked the face. “I’m sorry, bud. We weren’t laughing at you. Vanth just told us a really funny joke right at the same time, didn’t you, Vanth?” You turned your gaze up to the Marshal slowly, narrowing your eyes at him to play along.
The child looked to him with teary eyes, sniffling, and Vanth’s wide eyes looked between you and the child as he remained silent, looking somewhat shell shocked from the whole day of events. One hand cradled his chin, covering his mouth, and the other supported it across his chest.
Slowly, Din turned his head to look at Vanth, and the Marshal’s eyes grew impossibly wider before he nodded vigorously, arms lowering to his sides, leaning his weight around nervously. “Yeah. Oh yeah. Hilarious joke. Horrible timing. So sorry, little guy.” He cracked a nervous grin before his eyes darted back to the Mandalorian, a sigh of relief leaving him when Din gave a brief nod, his eyes closing, hands coming back up to cradle his face once again.
Xxx
You rode atop banthas the next day to get to the kryat dragon. A long line in front of and behind you. Glancing back at the kid where he sat in his satchel on the rear of the creature showed he was more than okay, looking around at everything contentedly.
Turning back to face forward, you winced. Squinting in the sun, you let out a groan. “I don’t want to complain, but….”
Sitting in front of you, reins for the animal in his hands loosely, Din prodded you on. “But….?” He turned his head to the side to look at you in your perch behind him.
“I need to be in front whenever we go places here. Your armor is too reflective, it’s giving me a headache.”
“You’re telling me,” Vanth muttered from his bantha behind the two of you, making you smile. Looking over your shoulder to see him, he was squinting with a hand held out in front of him in an attempt to block some of the excess light. “It’s like a third sun.”
You snickered, turning back, burying your face into his cowl and turning your head to the side so you could watch the dunes pass by without the beskar glare, resting on the worn material. “Plus I’m kinda terrified your jetpack is gonna go off and roast me,” you mumbled, making Din chuckle.
“That won’t happen,” he said softly, amused, one gloved hand coming to rest on your hands where they met, clasped tightly around his abdomen, in comfort. His thumb began to lightly trace your knuckles, almost absently, and you sighed into the material you rested against.
Taking a deep breath, you held it for a moment, realizing the material smelled like him. Of course it did, you thought, rolling your eyes at yourself as you let the breath out. But after another brief moment of thought, you turned your head just slightly inward, tucking your nose in just a little bit more, and took normal, steady breaths.
“You okay up there, darlin’?” Vanth’s teasing voice lilted behind you, making you clench your jaw at the intrusion.
“Just fine. Thanks, Marshal. But you really should stop staring at the sun, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not good for you?”
Vanth chuckled. “Always was a slow learner,” he teased.
You could feel Din’s laugh at the exchange vibrating his cuirass under your hands.
His head turned just a bit to look down at you, still looking out at the vast sea of sand, and if anyone asked Vanth to put money on it, he would have bet the Mandalorian was smiling.
Xxx
Pulling back into Mos Pelgo, the three of you were quiet. Well, four including the kid, but he was asleep in his sack on the back of the speeder.
Seeing a kryat dragon, that same kryat dragon eat a Tusken, then finding out just how big that kryat actually was would do that to a person, you guess, smiling wryly to yourself.
Vanth began to explain how they had been attacked by Tuskens, and they had fought back, taking down twice as many, climbing off his speeder as he spoke. It didn’t sound like he was trying to justify anything, in fact it sounded like something he didn’t really want to admit, and this made you tilt your head slightly at him in thought.
“The town respects you. My guess is, they’ll listen to reason,” Din said from behind you, both still on the speeder.
Vanth poked at his speeder absently, smiling down at it, before looking back up toward the two of you. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” With that, he turned and went into the cantina.
You could hear the buzzing of voices from inside, the town having gathered to hear what the Marshal had to say.
“I need to go in there,” Din said softly, climbing off the speeder, and turning to face you.
You swung one leg over, sitting on the seat with both perched on the same side, one knee resting lightly against the side of his thigh plate.
“Stay with the kid.” You both turned to look at the back of the speeder where two little tips of giant green ears poked out of the top of his satchel. “He’s asleep this time so he shouldn’t be much trouble.” His voice sounded amused through the vocoder.
“Shouldn’t being the key word, there,” you teased, earning a huff of laughter, and a gentle shake of his head.
Din placed a hand on your knee that rested against him, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”
The two of you stared at one another for a moment before you remembered you should respond, so you nodded.
With one last squeeze to your knee, he turned and followed Vanth into the cantina.
Leaning against the speeder, much like a few days before when the kid had performed a disappearing act, you sighed, looking around the small town with a new appreciation. These people were stubborn, but they fought for what they had. They worked for it. Nothing came easy, and they didn’t expect it to. Back home on Coruscant, you just had to worry about looking over your shoulder in certain parts of town, especially the lower levels where the bar was. Here, they had to worry about a giant dragon. You’d found a new admiration for the people of Mos Pelgo.
You heard shouting from the cantina, the townspeople in an uproar about something. Glancing over to see the kid still snoring away in his seat, you decided to go poke your head in and see what the fuss was about.
Leaning on the archway, like you had days before, it was a bit of deja vu. Din was standing in front by the bar, making a speech to try and sway the crowd. Only this time, unlike before when he had been threatening Vanth, he was speaking calmly, stating the facts, and the people were listening.
You couldn’t help but admire how he was handling the situation. If it were you, you would probably be yelling back by now. And there was an off chance there would be tears, as well, for no good reason.
He had command of the room, held everyone’s attention, and left no room for questioning his words. You had no doubt some of it was the novelty of a Mandalorian being the one speaking, being something out of stories for most, but there was no question he himself was good at this. Something akin to pride swelled in your chest, and you felt your lips twitch upward in a smile.
These last few days he kept showing you something new, something fascinating, and you couldn’t wait until this whole dragon thing was over so you could talk to him about it.
As everyone filtered out of the space after coming to an agreement, you stayed in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the stone, arms crossed over your chest, and a smile climbing your face as Din walked up to you.
“What?” He asked, his voice almost reluctant, like he was scared to know, making you chuckle.
“Nothing. You’re good at this.”
“At what?” He scoffed, his tone incredulous, even through the vocoder, and his weight shifted to one side.
“Talking to people,” you said softly, pushing off the wall and reaching out to pat his pauldron. “You should do it more often.”
His helmet tilted at you, only making your smile brighter.
Vanth just happened to be passing by at that moment, and snorted out a laugh as he passed, Din turning his tilted helmet on him, his gaze following him for a few paces before turning back to you.
Xxx
The suns beat down on you as you sat on the porch in front of the small building, people busying themselves around you, readying explosives for the kryat.
Din and Vanth emerged from the building, walking up to stand behind you. Din was so close you could feel his legs just barely at your back.
Looking up, you saw they both were looking out at the horizon, so you turned your gaze that way, rising to your feet and standing next to Din. Just cresting over a dune you could see a line of banthas approaching, carrying their Tusken warriors who would help against the kryat.
Looking around at the people of Mos Pelgo, you took a shuddering breath as animosity began to fill the air, and it pressed on you like a heavy weight against your chest.
Din must have noticed because his hand came silently to your back, resting in the middle of your spine, just as a soft presence.
Turning your head just enough to the side to see him, you mumbled a thanks, feeling his thumb trace a small line along your shoulder blade in recognition.
You felt something bright, something happy and joyful trying to come into your mind, like a pinprick among all the hate currently flooding you from the people. Looking over to the speeder, you saw the kid peeking just over the edge of his bag from his nose up, his wide eyes on you. When you met his gaze, the pinprick broke like a dam and began to flood everything else, bleeding light and happiness into all the dark. Relief washed over you, and the corner of your mouth twitched up in the smallest of smiles.
You pushed what you hoped was thanks toward the child, and it must have worked, because his head popped up just enough that you saw his little smile, then his eyes began blinking heavily. You felt guilty as you watched him fall asleep again, the waves he sent calming, but you were able to hold onto them, use them to keep out the rest. He was getting an extra special snack later.
All went well until a Tusken took an explosive handed to him by a townsperson, fumbled it, and it dropped to the ground with a thud.
While the man began to freak out, yelling at the Tusken, you intervened, stepping in front of the Tusken as Vanth stepped in front of the man. You signed to the raider that it was okay, you would take care of it, using the gestures Din had been teaching you since you asked at the canyon. Vanth pushed the man back, explaining it was an accident, repeating himself until the man stopped, turning away.
Picking up the explosive and handing it to the Tusken waiting by the bantha, you nodded as you passed it off, the raider returning the gesture. Walking over to stand between Din and Vanth, you let out a breath as you stared ahead vacantly.
“It’s gonna be great,” Vanth said sarcastically, a smile to match across his face.
Xxx
You’d been back and forth over this desert more times in the last few days than you’d ever thought you would be in your life.
Pulling up to the kryat’s lair once again, the atmosphere was tense, as everyone stood and stared at the gaping hole in the mountain, waiting.
A lone Tusken approached the mouth of the cave, and you wished you were that brave.
“What’d he say?” Vanth whispered when the Tusken began to signal back towards the group.
“He says it’s sleeping. If we listen carefully, we can hear it breathing.” Din spoke calmly, but you could hear the slight edge to his voice. He was worried.
You swallowed. “That’s not creepy.”
Vanth let out a soft snort at your sarcastic remark.
A Tusken extended one of the disgusting melons towards him, and he almost pulled a face before schooling his features like a pro. He took it in one hand, looked at it with something similar to regret, before straightening his spine and taking a large sip. Pulling it away from his lips with a grimace, he struggled to swallow for a second, finally doing so loudly, barely concealing a shudder as he did. Looking you straight in the eyes, he mimicked what you had said when you drank yours around the campfire the night before. “Mmmm…. Interesting.”
Lips quirking up in a grin, you gave him a single nod, which he returned with a grin of his own twitching up one side of his face.
“Let’s get to work.” Din said simply.
Pulling you to the side, Din lowered his voice to keep the conversation private, his helmet tilted down to look you in the eyes. “I need you to stay with the kid. This is really dangerous, and I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”
“Then why are we here?” You asked, somewhat annoyed, hands on your hips.
“Because I can’t protect either of you if you’re somewhere else.”
You softened your voice, hands dropping to your sides. “Din, I can help.”
“It will be a help if you watch the kid.” His tone was sincere, but then it turned playful, making you let out a scoff. “It’s the most important job. And most dangerous. That kid is trouble.”
You finally let out a snicker at his comment, shaking your head and gently pushing him toward the cave. “Go. Be a hero.”
“I thought you said ‘don’t be a hero’?” He was walking backwards toward the group setting everything up, keeping his focus on you. His arms slightly spread in question.
“Yeah, well, I’m learning things.” You waved him off. “Telling you that is like telling your armor not to be blinding.” You held a hand up to block the glare off his beskar to prove your point.
Chuckling, he shook his head as he turned and began to jog to the mouth of the cave.
Once you got back up to the ridge where the speeder sat with the kid in his satchel, now wide awake again after a nice long nap, you pulled him out and set him in front of you. Sitting cross legged on the sand, he plopped down where he was across from you, tilting his head and letting out a small squeak.
“Okay, kid. We’re going to try meditating. Because I don’t know what else to do right now. But just in case….” You pulled your blaster out of its holster and set it on your lap, ready to grab if you needed to do some dragon slaying.
“Close your eyes….” You did as you said, peeking one eye open after a few seconds to check on the kid, and finding him doing the same, one eye peeking at you. When he saw you spying on him, he let out a squeal and quickly closed his eyes again, making you giggle.
“Deep breaths….” You fully opened your eyes, watching them take care of the setup of the explosions, minding your breathing all the same. Glancing over to the kid, you saw him furrowing his brows in concentration. One of his eyes peeked open at you, finding you not even remotely doing what you were saying to, and both his eyes flew open, an indignant squeak flying out of his chest.
“Fine, fine….” You huff, turning back to him, sighing, and closing your eyes. One last peek proved neither you nor the kid trusted each other to follow through as you both were spying on the other.
Xxx
You had watched the entire thing unfurl from your spot at the speeder, somehow miraculously safe, even though the kryat had changed positions several times.
Both you and the kid had promptly given up meditating in favor of perching behind some nearby rocks to watch it all.
When Din had gone into the dragon, you had stood up immediately, watching as your stomach sank. You told yourself you’d be able to tell if something was wrong. You’d sense it. Right?
You let out a loud breath when he had flown out of its mouth, electricity shooting everywhere from his rifle, then detonated the explosives, finally killing the dragon.
He skidded on the ground very dramatically as he landed, making you roll your eyes, but you still found yourself running to him, the kid tucked quickly into your arms.
Sliding down the dune toward him, you were about to hug him, but at the last second stopped, realizing he was covered in dragon stomach goo.
“Why would you do that?!” You cried, adjusting the child in your grip. “You wear beskar, you’re not made of it! That could have gone very badly!”
“But it didn’t.”
You huff at his simple response.
“What happened to you learning things and telling me to be a hero?”
“That was before I realized it meant doing something so stupid!” You huffed again while he let out a chuckle. “I’m just glad you are okay.” Your voice had lowered, and you tried to breathe and calm your nerves.
Xxx
The kid was admiring a giant piece of meat off the dragon that sat on the back of the speeder, looking at it like it was a treasure.
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to explain,” Din said as Vanth approached, Mandalorian armor in hand.
“No need,” Vanth brushed it off. “This was well earned.” He sat the armor on the speeder.
Shaking hands over the speeder, Din replied simply, “It was my pleasure.”
You narrowed your eyebrows at him. If you hadn’t known him so long, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight sarcastic edge to his tone. He was parroting what Vanth had said to you the other day, when he had brought the cot.
But to your surprise, Vanth seemed to notice, too, smirking, before looking over at you with a wink. “I hope our paths cross again,” he directed at Din before walking away.
“As do I.” Din sounded sincere, and you were relieved whatever petty thing they had going on seemed to be brushed under the rug.
Vanth quickly turned back. “Oh, and you tell your people I wasn’t the one that broke that,” he said pointing at the armor.
Using the scarf the Marshal had given you to cover your face while riding on the speeder, you began to wipe down the front of Din’s armor.
“What are you doing?” He sounded affronted, pushing you away slightly.
You looked at him with an expression that said it should be obvious. “You’re covered in dragon digestion goo. I have to sit with you on the speeder, and since there is plenty of space,” you leveled a look on him, “and I don’t wear beskar, and that stuff kinda disintegrated a few of the others, I thought it would be a good idea to get rid of what I could before we go.”
He tossed his head from side to side as if weighing what you said before taking the cloth and taking care of it himself, stuffing it in his belt when he was done. Holding his arms out to the side, his tone was heavily sarcastic. “Happy?”
“You’ve no idea,” you deadpanned back.
Once again you found yourselves staring at the other for just a little longer than necessary, and before you could look away this time, you felt something flutter in your stomach at the thought.
Both of you melted into laughter before getting on the speeder.
“We should drive through the night, get this meat back as soon as possible. You drive first, then you can sleep while I drive.”
You nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve got my Mandalorian pillow, so we should be good.” You looked at him over your shoulder with a broad teasing grin.
He let out a heavy sigh, slouching back in the seat as you chuckled before looking forward and hitting the accelerator. The kid let out a happy squeal as you sped off, the day quickly fading into sunset, and you felt like the next adventure was just up ahead, waiting for your little crew to find it.
Summary: You're a starving artist living on Coruscant who is about to hit rock bottom. It looks bad, real bad, especially to the regal looking Mandalorian that just dropped you off at the med center. You'll be okay though and you'll both get your second chance at making a real connection, even if it goes a little sideways.
Warnings: Part one has depression, grief of a dead parent and a graphic self harm moment. I urge you to approach with caution. Writing this was therapeutic for me but may be very triggering for you.
Second Chances Masterlist
WRITERS FULL MASTERLIST
‼️Note on Reader Immersion: This fic is not y/n but is in reader format 2nd pov, you are not coded to any race but this is an OC with a name and background, you could also be considered neurodivergent, so you may project however you want. Three vague physical descriptors, short hair (not described but applies to character development so it stays in), Din is taller than you and you're ~35 years old.
.....
You're taking a walk after finishing your shift at the cantina you work at. It's not unlike you to get lost in your thoughts. But tonight, you're ruminating about him. Why? You're not sure, your brain just does this sometimes, it was so long ago. The night you ran right into him.
The evening had been moving along quickly, you can have fun at work if you try. It didn't take much effort that night, patrons were being flirty, maybe it was the new look. Sometimes all it takes is a new haircut to feel like yourself again and this night you were feeling that spark of confidence every time you passed your reflection; it was a feeling not often felt so you clutched to it. It was a rare thing, almost as rare as the Mandalorian.
The venue was dimly lit, the vibe was a little romantic, moody but not seedy by any standard. It was packed, the house band had a well-known Fanfar player as a guest, and that brought in a few extra patrons. You were walking away from your friend Kirah, telling her about the terrible date you had last week. You were not paying attention to your path, looking over your shoulder as you were walking and talking. That's when you ran right into him. Your toe hit his boot before jamming your index finger on his armor.
Your reaction was to cuss, "Oh, shit, Dank Farrik ow!" And then apologize, as your eyes checked him out up and down, "Maker, sorry!" You shook your hand and put your finger to your lip to ease the throb, "Kriff, I think I broke it!"
The Mandalorian beskar visor was fixed on you, it felt like an eternity, but it was likely seconds. He didn't say anything immediately, just stared down at you through that dark visor, the few lights in the ceiling bounced off him, reminding you of sunbeams hitting transparasteel. You could feel your eyes meet. You were imagining who could be under there and the mystery compelled you. In the few seconds you had, you took note of the scuffs in the paint on the metal covering him, the width of him, the layers of weaponry and armor, his helmet – unmoving as it was angled down to look at you. As you stood frozen, he took your injured hand in his, very gently, his rough glove stroked the accused digit. He didn't have to, he could've shoved you aside like anyone else would. The room went quiet, the bustling noises faded, and the ache almost went away. When he let go and as the warmth of him left the noise came back and so did reality – sound and spacetime resumed.
His rich modulated voice spoke casually over the music, with a hint of care, "It's probably not broken, but you should put some ice on it."
Moving your eyes from his visor to your hand, you stammered awkwardly, "Oh, uh, yes, okay, thank you, I'll do that." You continued to stand in each other's way in the noisy crowd. "Um so, do you want a drink or..." But as you were finishing your sentence his visor shifted quickly up to look past you, you turned your head to see what he spotted but met the broad fuzzy backside of man in a ridiculous coat.
He then put his hand gently against your shoulder, drawing your eyes back to him, giving you a very small delicate nudge, "Excuse me, I'm sorry, I need to pass now."
"You do? I mean, you do." Warmth was spreading across your cheeks, your eyes stayed locked on his helmet, no one like him has ever crossed your path before. Your bodies were right up against each other in the very crowded space, his bandolier grazing your chest as he moved. Not realizing his blaster had caught on your apron pocket, he attempted to step away but the snag jerked you back and then forward into him, tangled and close, you started to pull it off, "Ssshhit…I'm so sorry, I'm not doing this on purpose."
The Mandalorian put his hand on top of yours to stop you, "Don't...careful, it's loaded." He said firmly, followed by what you swore was a nervous sounding laugh as he worked to unhook the pocket from his blaster and holster.
"Right, you're a uh...bounty hunter?" You were standing there holding your jammed finger with your hip angled towards him, stuck in place, taking note of the intricacies in the thing on his forearm.
"That's right." He answered loud enough for you to hear, as he unhooked the last bit that was stuck between his belt and holster. Before you could ask more, he was freed and stepped away, but then, the man in rust colored armor turned back to you, his gleaming helmet lingered on you for half a moment more – almost like he was about to come back over. The blankness of his helm...you likely were projecting that he was checking you out, it might have been true. He then stepped away with an urgency, shoving harshly past people who gawked as he passed, wiping at the drinks he made them dribble, with one person cussing him out. You had started to open your mouth to call after him, but no words came, and he was gone. He ran out the side exit.
Kirah came up, snapping her fingers at you, "Hello, that was amazing, maybe he'll come back." She craned her neck to see if she could spot him.
You stared at the exit he went through, hoping she was right. Maybe it was the way he moved around you and even though he spoke only a few words it was the last time you remembered feeling truly desirable. It may have all been fantasy, but your friend’s reaction grounded it to reality. That was, not rotations or months but cycles ago.
You grew up on Coruscant. You continue to live and work here, near the surface. You've worked at the same venue for several years now in an old art district, fabled for its freethinkers and starving artists, it's survived regimen and societal changes. The neighborhood has churned out a few well-known names but yours is not one of them. You're an artist, like your mom. She raised you single handed after having you late in her life. She worked lots of low wage jobs but was able to supplement income with her incredible sculptures. She sold to whom she had to, she wanted what was best for you. She ensured your education and safety and most importantly, that you grew up knowing love, beauty and art. She was your best friend and in her last years you even shared an apartment together. After the fall of the Empire, the people found themselves needing artists, they needed reflection and solace. The art trade boomed on Coruscant after the Empire crumbled, unfortunately, as a way for the many crime syndicates to launder credits, but that was beyond your scope. You're just a little-known painter, in her thirties on the brink of a complete nervous breakdown.
You find yourself very muted these days, your hair has grown shapeless, you wear whatever is loose and lazy in your top drawer, rarely do your makeup. You look ordinary, you feel ordinary, which might be okay for most, but not for you. You never settled down; kids were never on the radar even though you adore children. Ever since your friends started marrying and having families and spreading out across the Galaxy, you felt orphaned in a way. This feeling has only been made worse since your mom died. Her decline happened quickly, there's no real way to prepare for such a loss, but you wish you'd had a chance.
You feel profoundly sad, alone and unable to see your way out of a consuming depression. This isn't the first time you've felt this way, but it hasn't hit you this hard since you were much younger and less able to cope.
In the years since that Mandalorian seared himself in your brain, you've lost your mom, your closest friends and your way. You quit painting and you are very much going through the motions. Your neighborhood isn't entirely without danger, you usually take the train home.
Tonight, you decided to walk. You find yourself numb; a dangerous fog has shrouded your very being. It's hard to describe how you're feeling because the answer is nothing. It's not pain, it's not sadness or anger, it's worse, it's like you don't exist. Everything that you are is locked up and you can't find the key. There is rain starting to fall but it takes a while to hit the platforms and streets where you are. Your feet are carrying you somewhere, your brain is on autopilot, you passed your apartment blocks ago. Looking up at the traffic way up high in the sky lanes, the rain makes halos around the lights. The damp finally hits you; you turn your face to it hoping it will rouse you from this disconnect. It doesn't.
You sit on a bench along a pedestrian walkway, your work apron still on and your bag hanging crossbody around you. Everything is starting to get wet now, in the cool night rain, your apron, your clothes and shoes. You go into your bag and pull out the knife you found on the ground in the alley at the back exit of your workplace. You had meant to bring it inside, but the door was locked behind you. It's an impressive tool, a vibroblade, a nice one, that looks more like a weapon. You aren't an expert, but you know this thing means business.
You flick it on and just do it, something you hadn't done in ages, an act you never imagined you'd resort to again. You cut yourself on your arm, hoping for release, a few endorphins maybe. It burns, it stings. "Dank farrik", you mutter, you cut yourself for real. It's not good. You've self-harmed before, but it's been many years, and this is the absolute worst it's ever been. The cut is shocking to look at. Immediately you know you're in trouble when you see the connective tissue and muscle in the long diagonal gash, you panic. Blood is pouring out of your forearm. You think you set the blade down, but you are frozen in place and immediately regret your action. You see a metallic shimmer to the left in your peripheral vision.
...
Din knew he should have just dragged that quarry along with him to retrieve his blade. The tracks made it evident that it had been picked up. He couldn't leave that weapon on the street. It's made from beskar, it's unique and he has a certain responsibility now more than ever to not let things like this go, so he sets off to look for it alone.
It's starting to rain and he really hates being more weighed down by the water. He's tired and just wants to get back to his ship to either fly home or land somewhere he can clear his head for a day.
The tracks meandered through the district. He likes this area, it's interesting, lots of art and music. In his travels he's learned new languages, heard and seen many cultures and how they expressed their spirit, love, hope, anger, fear. Expression that he's never taken part in externally. He’s kept his armor unpainted, although the silver does hold a special meaning in his culture. He's not an artist, but he is an observer. He has many skills, from mathematics and fighting, but one of his least recognized is his ability to watch people, really watch them.
His thoughts clear themselves when he sees he's caught up to the person who has his blade. It's pouring rain now. He sees you on the bench and wonders why you wandered all this way in the rain. He can hear the blade turn on before he sees it.
"Excuse me...HEY!"
You’ve just sliced your arm open with it. Din has no idea what has just happened, all he comprehends is the blade on the ground and the flesh on your arm hanging wide open. He's over in half a second.
...
You squint to look through the rain that's falling heavily now. It's the figure of a man, the raindrops are bouncing off his shiny armor. Yes, he's wearing armor. He's coming closer. You hear yourself speak but it sounds like it's coming from a deep well.
"You're a Mandalorian."
The next thing you know this reflective man, not too unlike the rust colored one you saw all that time ago, is stooping over you, blocking the raindrops. You look down to see the ground turning red, the rain exacerbating the amount of blood pouring from your arm. Spots paint your vision.
His modulated, deep voice barely registers over the static in your ears, filled with frustration "Why did you do that with my blade, why, why did you do that!?"
You look up into the visor of the man and the tears that have been stuck, the sadness, the embarrassment, you sob weakly, "I'm sorry, I didn't, didn't know it would, didn't mean to..."
You're dizzy, struggling to stay upright, there is a ringing in your ears. You feel him trying to help you, but you're not really present now. It's as though you've become a spectator to your own mental and physical collapse. The Mandalorian shouts over the heavy rainfall, "You're bleeding too much!"
It’s so much effort to speak, you mumble, "Ok, I'm okay. I'm okay."
You hear him again, “Hey! Stay awake! Look at me.” Wet leather swipes over your face before a weightlessness overtakes you, “Stay awake, you're okay, I've got you." Your arm feels like it's on fire, your legs tingle, you can't believe what's happening. You feel cold metal against your body and hear an unfamiliar mechanical burst, wet wind rushes over you before you lose consciousness.
...
Din looks down at your terrified face, your eyes wide open in fear and confusion and filled with tears. Your fear nearly matches his, "Why did you do that with my blade, wh- why did you do that?" He asks out of sheer frustration.
You start apologizing, seemingly desperate and confused. He's so caught off guard, as though he's never seen an injury before. His thoughts race with guilt on his part.
Din squats down, his head is at your level now. He takes his eyes to the injury and his stomach lurches. Vibroblades, his knife, can take off a limb. He takes your arm carefully in his hand and thinks, assessing the severity of the injury, it stuns him and his body races with adrenaline.
He takes note of how much blood is pouring from the gash, it's soaking his gloves, and up under his vambraces. Din looks back to your face and finds you looking directly at him. Time stops for a moment. Still, after all these years, it catches him off guard when someone can perfectly meet his eyes under the helmet. Usually, the direct eye contact is off enough that he misses out on any potential for intimacy. Your eyes are boring right into his, your fear and sadness piercing right into him. He grounds himself, "You're bleeding too much, I need to stop this bleeding."
He needs a tourniquet and notices the strings of your apron. He takes it off and ties it around your arm above the gash but also covering it. It's better than nothing.
You murmur to him, "I'm okay." Your weight shifts and shoulders slump. He grabs your cheeks, your whole face fitting in his one hand, trying to rouse you.
Din starts wiping away the wet hair that's plastered to your face, "Stay awake! Look at me! What's your name, please, what's your name?"
Your eyes are half open and you don't respond. "DANK FARRIK!"
He picks the vibroblade up from the ground and conceals it in his boot. Din checks that he has everything. He picks you up under your shoulders and legs.
"Stay awake, you're okay, hang on, I've got you." He holds you close to him, ignites his jetpack and takes off in the rain.
Din has you tight in his arms, his muscles burn with the strain of keeping you safe against him and through the rain makes his way to the nearest med center. He lands at the emergency entrance of a small facility that was just a short distance away on the surface. It's not busy at all. He is grateful for the lack of people around. There is a droid handling the check in.
As he walks up to the desk in the small, well lit, sterile looking lobby, he looks at you in his arms. Your lips are colorless as you shiver violently, you look completely helpless. What would compel someone to do something like that and he feels at fault.
As he's trying to get the Droid to understand that he has no information other than that of your injury, he feels your body stir.
You come around enought to feel that horrible suffocating feeling and taste - you've just vomited - you try not to do it again. The Mandalorian sounds like he's lost all patience now, his voice drops lower, and he speaks slowly, "Help this woman right now or I will melt you." You don't hear what comes next because you think you might be dying.
The Droid rebuttals, "Sir there is no need for threats!"
A human doctor comes through the double doors behind the desk. "Sid, what have we here!? I told you if the patient isn't conscious, send them back immediately! Sir I'm sorry!"
A nurse comes out with a gurney and Din is careful as he lays you on it, running his hand up your back to catch your head before he lets go. The nurse starts running a scan and quickly relays the info to the doctor, Din stares at your now lifeless form, only taking in half of what they're saying, "Female human, 35 years old...blood loss...deep laceration, left forearm, her heart rate is too low..."
His heart for a moment recalls that hallow feeling that comes with grief and it’s the only illustration he can draw up to compare to what he’s looking at. You’re young, and attractiveness he knows is subjective, but your features register with him, and familiarity strikes him. He stares, watching for your eyes to open and maybe the familiarity will strike you. How could it though, he doesn’t have a face and that pang of grief turns into something else, something he’s been working on. Your eyes have stopped fluttering.
"Sir, Sir, would you like to follow us back?" The doctor asks.
Din answers the doctor, "No, that won't be necessary, I'm sure you've got it from here." Din looks down at his beskar, beads of blood mixed with rain drip down his chest.
Sid the Droid is now asking him questions, "Sir, do you have any injuries that need assessment."
Din looks up at the Droid from his soaked gloves, "No, I'm fine."
The doctor comes bursting back through the double doors. "Hang on, hold on, Sid don't let him go!"
Din stands at attention, swallowing heavy, "Is she okay? She didn't die, did she?"
The doctor walks up to Din, "No, she'll survive, what we'd like to know is how she ended up with a six-inch bone deep laceration on her arm?"
Din nervously grips at his belt on his hip and nods, "Okay, yeah, fair enough, I'll answer your questions, but can we go somewhere private?"
The doctor leads him through the double doors into a room with a window that connects to the room where you’re now being worked on by a med Droid and another human. He doesn't like medical facilities; they make him fret. Maybe it's all the vulnerability, looking at you, stripped bare, hooked up to cords and exposed, nothing but a blanket covering your form. It makes Din shiver inside his beskar. The human attendant in the other room closes a shade so he can't see anymore.
He folds his arms across his chest, "Doctor I found this woman after collecting a bounty, she injured herself, I don't know why, but the wound was self-inflicted. Here…" Din punches a few things on his vambrace and brings up part of his chain code, just the necessary information, his name, his current professional status and station, "I'm telling the truth, do you have any more questions?"
The doctor audibly swallows whilst looking at the code, "Yes, well, that seems plausible, we'll ask her about it when she wakes. Thank you for clearing that up, we have all we need then. You, you may have saved the woman's life, so thank you, have a good night, sir."
Din nods and turns to leave. He stops in the lobby and turns back before he exits, "Sid, my apologies, thanks for your help." The droid’s response gets lost is the whoosh of the double doors.
He's tired, cold, wet and he wants to kick something. He's decided to just get his own room in town tonight, it's nearly dawn now. Stripping off the beskar and peeling his wet flight suit off his body in the fresher, the water from his soaked clothes is pink from the blood. He's thinking about the moment your sad eyes connected with him, they felt familiar, he couldn't place it. Once in a blue moon he makes that kind of connection, he's never really had a chance to chase it before. The faces just fade into his memories, some fade slower than others. He'd think about you for the next five weeks.
...
You wake up in a bright room. There's a heavy bandage over your arm. You feel pretty shitty, the pain isn't too bad but your whole body is heavy and tired. The clinic has questions for you, like confirming your identity and getting the facts about what happened. You're honest with them. They hold you there for another day. The nurse tells you that you nicked an artery and were going into shock. The Mandalorian saved your life. At first they didn't believe him, but she wouldn't tell you details about him and how they knew he wasn't the one to slice you open. You will have a scar, hopefully nerve damage is minimal. The discharge nurse makes arrangements for your now upcoming appointments. She hands you your items in a bag and you leave.
When you step out the daylight is bright and the air is cool, the city around you is now bustling. You feel better than you did two nights ago but you feel changed, in a dark way, like you have a new demon to introduce yourself to. It’s strange how that deep numbness left you feeling so inhuman, compelling you to behave so inhumanely to yourself and yet today it’s as though that was just a fluke. What you did happened, there is no going back and there is no hiding from it. When you get back into your apartment you fall back on your bed, your eyes appraising the blank canvases and painting supplies that have been stacked there for months. You fall asleep scared for what's next, you want to be strong, like the arms that held you two nights ago, solid as the timber in the voice that told you to hang on.
The days pass by slowly at first and then quickly. You are managing to make it to your appointments and get in hours at work. You reach out to a couple of your oldest friends to hear their voices and catch up. The scar on your arm is fresh still and sometimes tender.
You've finished three paintings in the last four weeks, the most you've done in a long time.
You feel like your recovery is taking roots. You think about him, about his voice telling you you'll be okay. As you paint a skyline scene, you decide to add raindrops, reflecting the silver shine of the cityscape or a man in armor. You think about how you'd be dead if it wasn't for him and you want so badly to thank him.
It's been 5 weeks since that night. You are looking at yourself in the mirror, and wish the reflection better matched how you feel inside. You go into your closet and put together a flattering outfit. You know you have a body shape under the loose, oversized garments you're hiding yourself in. You do your makeup for the first time in a while. You head out for the morning, you have a shift this evening. You had a productive therapy session today, it was painful, but grief is just that. Walking down one of your favorite strips of shops and galleries you come upon a salon. Its window is covered in adverts for local bands and events, the music being played inside is atmospheric. You think of that night a man in rust colored armor wearing a T shaped visor made you feel like the only one in the room. You describe the style you had then, and the hairdresser loves the idea and gets to work. It's a drastic change. Your head feels lighter, you feel like your reflection matches your own perception. You feel beautiful for the first time in a long time.
The smile on your boss's face makes you grin. "Heeeey, look at that! There she is! You look great!" they say. The attention is welcome in small doses.
You have energy tonight; you laugh with your regulars and the house band sounds even better than usual. You've been coming back to life these last few weeks. And you wonder if this week is going better than most or if you're finally just present enough to see the potential in each day. Making your way past the dim booths in back, where it is quieter, a shimmer catches in your peripheral directly to your right. The way the light reflected, you knew immediately who it had to be, it's him. You stop and turn, feeling nervous, almost embarrassed.
You are working, but this is the man that saved your life, so you slide in across from him. He's intimidating plain and simple. He's not saying anything, you're not saying anything. You haven't been this intimidated by a man in a long time. Mandalorians are rare, you feel so dense right now in your epiphany. The helmet is the same, the voice is the same, the same broad frame. It didn't cross your mind until just now, you need confirmation, you ask with a bit of a side-eye expression, “You’ve been here before, haven't you?"
He nods his helmet, "I was here five weeks ago...out back, not inside, before that, it was cycles ago."
You wait out his silence. Watching for that visor to vanish, so you can see those eyes you know are piercing you.
The Mandalorian admits, "I remember you…you distracted me that night, my quarry almost got away. You, you didn't look like you last time we met, between the rain and blood-" he tilts his helmet, "your hair was different, I like this look, suits you." He pauses and the tilt of his helmet gives him away, he is staring, "Your eyes, I knew I'd seen your face before."
You almost can't bear to look at him now. You rub your hand against the back of your warm neck and look to the floor, ears hot, ho
ping he doesn’t notice the nervous twitch of your brow.
Its obvious he notices as he reached his gloved hand out, laying it across the table and makes a subtle waving motion. Din tries to stop the words from uncharacteristically spilling out, the way you sit there, vulnerable, he can’t stop himself, "Don't be embarrassed. It's okay, you're alive, you look well. I feel partly responsible. I got clumsy taking in a quarry, lost my blade. I'm out of practice, I've been busy with...other responsibilities. I had to go turn the guy in and collect the bounty. He was being difficult. I tracked you. You wandered far; the rain made it trickier. I caught up with you but was a second too late, I did find you in time I suppose but still, too late. Stop me from talking at any time, I'm not good at this. I don't mean to upset you. I just wanted to see if you were okay."
You taste a tear you hadn’t realized you spilled. The tears are coming from a catharsis. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, trying not to smudge your makeup, "You're not upsetting me, quite the contrary. Please, none of this is your fault. I need to thank you, you saved me, in more ways than one, just, um, oh stars, I'm really crying.'' You give a breathy laugh, not realizing your free hand is now sitting in his on the table. You give up trying to see through the dark shield, “My name is Mal, thank you, for saving my life..." He squeezes your fingers with his thumb, his velvety voice is gracious as he offers his name too, "You can call me Din."
Realizing your shift ends soon, you pull your hand away from him and rub your apron, "Look, my shift is over soon. Do you have to leave? I'll be done in an hour. I understand if you can't, you can say no. But, um, would you like to talk more after I'm off, we could walk, the air is nice out...I feel like I owe you an explanation, or something." He leans back into the booth, you hadn't realized how you both had positioned yourselves so intimately across the table.
Din shakes his helmet, "You don't owe me anything. I don't have any urgent matters. I need to go back to my ship to check on some things, but I'll come back. I'll see you in an hour."
You both stand. You're eyeing his jetpack, "Din? Did you fly me to the hospital?"
He nods, “It was the fastest way to get you help." He's turning to leave now. Your mouth is agape.
You watch him go out the front door, he has the tiniest bit of swagger to his step, but not enough to seem arrogant, just confident. His beskar armor is polished, even the jetpack, his cape is deep blue, it could be black, he looks almost regal, you are surely intrigued. You don't notice the glances and whispers you both get as you watch him exit.
Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8
Words: 3571
Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor
Chapter: 1/8
Author’s notes: So I haven’t written in forever because LIFE but I love Mando over here soooooo I had to write something but also just finished this at 2 am so if there are spelling or grammar errors my apologies anyways I hope you enjoy!!!!
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You had been hired to hunt down a Mandalorian.
When your Commander personally called to pull you out of the field and into Headquarters, you knew it must be for a covert mission.
Typically, when you were given a new assignment, you would receive a short message on your comlink, which would send you on your way. But a face to face meeting, especially in your line of business, was almost unheard of.
So, without wasting a second, you packed up your encampment and slipped stealthily into the cargo-bay of the nearest ship bound closest to your Headquarters.
The ride itself was bumpy, and as your head slammed against the box you were hidden behind for the umpteenth time, you silently promised yourself to never leave your ship at Headquarters ever again.
A couple of hours later, you stumbled unsteadily out of the ship, not even trying to stay hidden from the crew whose ship you had stowed away on.
As you yawned, almost tripping down the ramp, you heard a shout behind you as one of the crew members caught sight of you. Turning, you threw him a wink and a salute before you took off into the crowd in front of you, vanishing among the vast volume of people.
With your signature red cape sweeping behind you, the citizens in the street immediately steered from your path, trying to keep out of your way and away from your famous temper.
Everybody who was anybody knew who you were and that you were not to be trifled with.
Your Commander and your troop had made somewhat of a name for yourselves on this planet. You served the highest buyers and did whatever needed to be done. Murder. Stealing. Assassinations. Bribing. Threatening. Bodyguarding. Sometimes even peacekeeping. It wasn’t always the best job, but it was a stable one, and it gave you more than enough money to survive comfortably.
You had only been working with your Commander for a few years but had quickly risen in the ranks when you earned her trust after saving her life. It wasn’t rare for a client to try and murder you, but trying to murder the Commander was a different story. But instead of succeeding, he found himself 10 feet underground. Thanks to you.
When you reached headquarters, you entered without knocking, slamming open the door to the Command Center.
Commander Trax leveled you with a glare when one of the rookies, startled from the door, spilled their drink all over her paperwork.
“Scram.”
The young rookie went red in the face and took off out the door before you could even say a word.
“You could be nicer to them.”
Trax scoffed motioning for you to take a seat, “That’s how they’ll get killed.”
“I haven’t.”
She squinted her eyes at you, “I’m not nice to you.”
“Mhm, sure we both know you basically adopted me.” You snorted as you settled yourself in the chair across from her, swinging your legs up to rest on the table.
Trax pushed a folder toward you but you didn’t take it yet, instead deciding to relax for a moment leaning back against the chair with your eyes closed.
“I have a mission for you.”
A pause.
“What kind?” You responded.
“Search and recovery.”
Your eyes opened slightly, squinting at her, “Thing?”
“Person.”
You rolled your eyes, “Boring. I want something more exciting.”
“He’s a Mandalorian.”
You froze, your face blank as your searched Trax’s face for a lie, “You’re shitting me.”
Trax motioned to the folder in front of you, and you quickly slid your feet off the table before pulling the folder to you, flipping through the pages.
Your jaw dropped open, “This man is a legend, why do we need to find him?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
Your mind was racing and you whispered to yourself, “But who would want a Mandalorian?”
“The mission brief is in there. You find him, and you bring what is in his position. It is called the asset, another life form.”
You hummed thoughtfully to yourself as you continued flipping through the file, before you stood, “Sounds easy enough to me.”
As you made your way past Trax, she grabbed your arm and pulled you in close, whispering in your ear, “Be careful. We are messing with some really powerful people. If you don’t succeed, don’t come back.”
Your eyes flashed for a minute thinking she was trying to get rid of you, but you realized that she wasn’t saying this to scare you. She was trying to protect you.
If you failed, you would be killed.
You nodded solemnly, gripping the file tighter, before stalking out the door.
Your heart was pounding hard as you boarded your ship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You had grown up with bounty hunters. Knew how to talk like one and work like one. A Mandalorian was different though. You know that it would be hard to find someone who knew how to stay hidden.
But you had a young and trusting face, and you could easily play the victim to find whoever you needed. Even him. All you needed was to make a fool of someone who had seen him.
After arriving on his last known location, and scouring the area for information about a man sporting a helmet and misplaced armor, you were able to scrounge up enough information to begin your search. It took you a few days but you were finally able to locate him. Some low-level dealer had easily been bribed with a few chips.
And that is how you found yourself camped out on the roof of his motel room. The hours passed and it grew colder, but you didn’t move. When it began to rain you groaned, silently cursing this stupid bounty hunter for not being back yet.
As it passed midnight, you began to nod off, but suddenly awoke when you finally heard footsteps and door slam below.
Sliding down the side of the building, you slipped into the room, your hand moving to your stun gun. But before you could even wrap your finger around it, you felt a blaster push into your back.
“Why are you here?”
You held up your hands, “Looking for a man in a helmet, have you seen him?”
The man behind you didn’t say a word, and you took that as an invitation to turn around.
Throwing him a wide smile, you looked him up and down, your eyes lingering on his body, focusing on the weakest links in his armor and where it would hurt the most to hit him. With a wink, you turned on your heel and walked over to one of the beds, falling down to rest against the headboard, your legs stretched out.
“Hope you don’t mind, I am so tired. It’s been a long day looking for you.”
“Why?” His voice was gruff. You could tell by his stance that he was tired, and the weariness in his voice confirmed it.
You shrugged, “I have my orders. You have yours. Where’s your little buddy I’ve heard so much about.”
His fingers twitched and your eyes flicked down as you watched them hesitate around the trigger of his blaster.
“Get out.”
You tsked, leaning forward to fluff up the pillow behind you, “No can do buddy. Like I said I have orders. If I don’t bring you in, then I die.”
“Not my problem.” He holstered his weapon and moved to stand against the wall.
You sighed, pushing yourself to your feet. You shot forward, standing in front of him in seconds. Startled, the man reached for his blaster. But went he to aim it at you, his arm froze and he looked down at it confused, as he seemed to fight with it.
A sound echoed from the corner of the room and you looked around in confusion, catching sight of something behind the Mandalorian in front of you. Squinting, you stepped around the man, who made a move to try to stop you but growled when he couldn’t move more than an inch.
A floating orb sat in the corner, and as you grew closer you saw a creature inside. Reaching out toward his green hand, his eyes made contact with you as he made a cooing sound.
The man behind you grunted and you spun.
“This is it? The asset? It’s a child!” You whispered horrified.
“I know.”
You ran a hand over your face, waving wildly at the baby, “I can’t give a child to those people.”
“What people?”
“I don’t know!” Your voice was becoming louder, “But my Commander said they would kill me. They would most definitely have no qualms killing a child. You need to get out of here.”
“What about you?”
Your stomach dropped but waved it off with a gentle laugh, and an unsure smile, “I’ll be fine.”
“I-“
He hesitated.
You stood there. Watching this man who seemed to be at war with himself. A few seconds later, he finally sighed.
“...could use a crewmember.”
You answered before you could stop yourself, “Yes.”
The man nodded and sat on a bed. When you didn’t move, he motioned from you to the other bed across the room.
Cautiously, you walked past the man and settled down on the bed, fully dressed. With one last look at the helmeted man, who may or may not be sleeping, you closed your eyes.
But you didn’t sleep. Your hand remained wrapped around your blaster all night. And you’re sure his did too.
Goddamn bleeding heart. Goddamn Mandalorian.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That goddamn man.
He barely spoke. Didn’t respond to any of your questions. Didn’t even stay in the same room as you for longer than a few minutes.
You were slowly losing your mind.
You would help around the ship. Fix things. Be back-up when he went into cities. Or babysit. But you needed connection. Real human connection. Just someone to talk to.
All you had was the child.
And while his cooing was cute. It wasn’t the type of conversation you craved.
It had been two weeks since you joined the Mandalorian and the little green child, who was apparently 50 years old. That was the only thing you had been able to get out to the helmeted man. And you had tried everything to get closer to him. Or even just learn his name.
You thought you had a chance one night when the man in question came home with a deep cut. You had rushed over to help him, but he had yelled at you to stay away.
You ignored him for three days after that.
Not that he noticed.
However, when this trend of getting injured continued to be a frequent occurrence, you finally stood your ground.
After listening to him grunt in pain for the tenth time, you stalked into his room and stood in front of him. When he said nothing, you growled and pushed him down, “Let. Me. Do. My. Job.” You said through gritted teeth.
He did.
He trusted you more after that. Let you wrap up his wounds. Said ‘good morning’ to you. Even stayed in the room with you now, instead of hightailing it every time he saw you.
And then, when you saved his life, he was indebted to you.
He had been mad at first because he had told you to remain put he went to grab things from the market. But you hadn’t. You had shouldered your bag, pulling on one of his dark capes from his closet, before taking off after him.
When you had finally caught up with him, you saw him about to be overrun. Without thinking, you opened fire dropping all three of the men within seconds.
Swinging around blaster raised, the man offered you a nod of thanks. More communication than you had had in weeks.
(And he even let you keep his cape.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week later and you couldn’t deal with the silence anymore. If you listened to the green child coo for one more second, you thought your head was going to explode. So you sat down across from the Mandalorian and held out your hand.
“I’m Y/N. I worked under Commander Trax before being basically kidnapped by you. I was to retrieve you for.... I’m not even sure who but I’m guessing it’s the people that hired you to find the green baby over there.”
The man looked out your outstretched hand.
He sighed (his favorite pastime) and you waited a moment, hoping he would respond.
And when he did your heart skipped a beat.
His gloved hand engulfed yours.
“Y/N. I know of you. Commander Trax is good people. My family has worked with her in the past. You’re a bounty hunter?”
“More or less.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Killed?”
“Yep.”
“That must be lonely.”
You froze, swallowing hard, “Well, I’m used to it. Especially after spending two weeks with a helmeted man who doesn’t talk.”
He was quiet for a few minutes before moving closer to you.
After a second, he began to speak, softly and slowly about how his family had died when he was younger. How the Mandalorians had taken him in as a foundling and made him who he was today. How he had a family and friends. But had lost too many good people when the Empire fell. After losing his own partner, he swore never to get close to anybody again. He dedicated his time and earnings to sponsor new foundlings.
As he continued speaking, you began to relax in his presence. Everything he spoke of was different than your life but it felt almost the same. You had both experienced your fair share of loss and pain. The way you distanced yourself from others to avoid making connections you would ultimately lose in the fight. Or the way that you followed orders because they had been drilled in your head at such a young age.
A few days later, you finally got up the nerve to ask him where you were headed.
“Need to know.” Was his response, but you could hear the smile on his face.
You were finally starting to be able to read this man. This man who seemingly showed no emotion. But he did. If you looked and listened close enough.
You smiled, “Could we at least spar or something to pass the time? I need to be prepared if something happens.”
“Nothing will happen.” But his voice wavered. He cleared his throat to play it off, but you caught it.
“Something always happens.”
His head turned to yours and though you couldn’t see his eyes you knew he understood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You ducked as a fist came flying at your head, a smile growing on your face as you knew exactly what your opponent’s next move would be.
Or so you thought.
Your arm darted out, ready to slam into his stomach, but before you could make contact, your legs were swept out from beneath you, and you slammed to the ground.
You slammed your fists into the ground as the man above you chuckled.
“I told you. You won’t succeed”
You tried to push yourself up, but your arm screamed in pain and you crashed back to the ground with a yelp. Taking a deep breath, you blinked away the sparks of light dancing across your vision, letting out an exaggerated groan as a foot lightly kicked your side.
A hand came into view.
Taking it, he hauled you up onto your feet.
“Enough.” He warned.
Flashes of light were still sparkling across your vision and your body felt as if you had fallen 10 stories, but out of habit, your leg slid back as you lifted your fists.
“Again.” You pleaded.
The man hesitated before his arms rose once more.
You rushed forward but realized too late that he was going to take you down. He swept your legs out again, but this time you took him down with you. You squealed as you realized you were going crash to the ground, the heavily armed man on top of you. But at the last second, the man twisted, taking the brunt of the fall as you fell on top of him.
“Ow.”
The man beneath you snorted.
You pushed yourself up on his chest so you could see his masked face. You smiled at him widely. And then froze, as you watched his hand come up slowly before brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His gloved thumb brushed across your cheek and you leaned into his hand.
“I-“ But before you could, a cooing sound startled the both of you.
Your heads shot to the side, catching sight of your little green friend standing not five feet away from the two of you.
Stumbling to your feet, both of you refused to look at each other.
You cleared your throat before rushing over to the little green guy before picking him up, “What are you doing over here!” You exclaimed, before placing him back into his orb.
“This isn’t over.” The Mandalorian said as he passed by you, a hint of a joke in his voice.
You sighed in relief, teasingly flipping him off, before quickly rushing out of the room your face bright red.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things had been going too well for too long. You still weren’t sure where you were going but that didn’t matter as long as you were still alive.
You and the Mandalorian talked more nowadays. You shared things with each other. Talked about stupid things. He was still a man of few words, but he seemed to care deeply. Especially for the little green child he had saved. And you as well it seemed.
After that one day after sparring, you had both been cautious about your touches. Neither of you were sure what it had meant.
But when his hand brushed against your back a few days later and you didn’t jump out of your skin, the light touches began. A shoulder touch. Brushing of hands. Once he had even brushed an eyelash off your cheek.
Everything was going well.
But good things didn’t last forever.
When you landed on a new planet. The Mandalorian had stated you were going to be there for a while. So you figured you might as well go to town to find some supplies.
A woman in the market had helped you pick out some clothing and personal items. Afterward, you had thanked her profusely and tipped her generously.
As you rounded the corner, whistling to yourself, you ran headfirst into a man in black. Offering your apologies, you tried to sidestep him only to be grabbed and shoved back into the wall. You began to fight back but just as you attacked, something hit you hard over the head and you blacked out.
When you woke, smoke was billowing from a fire in front of you.
You weren’t in the city anymore. The desert sand blew around you, no civilization to be seen for miles.
You tried to move, but your arms were tied behind your back. As you tried to shuffle yourself into a seated position, a foot came out of nowhere slamming into your side, causing pain to splinter through you.
Another foot came down, slamming your head into the ground, a rock tearing into your forehead.
“Who are you?” You croaked out.
The men above you didn’t answer except for another delivering kick. And then another. Your lungs were burning from the flames and you were certain they had broken a rib.
Someone spoke, their voice muffled. You strained to hear what they were saying, but all you could hear was the pounding in your head.
“---the bounty hunter.”
“What?” Your ears were still ringing.
“Give us the bounty hunter or you die.”
“If I die, you won’t find him.” You challenged.
“Then we’ll kill her.”
Your brows furrowed, until you looked around, catching sight of the woman from the market kneeling across the fire.
“No, I don’t know where he is,” your heart was pounding out of your chest, “I promise, just let her go, I don’t even know her.”
“Too late.” The man above you smiled, his golden teeth glittering from the blaze of the fire.
You pushed yourself to your feet and managed to get one of the men on the ground, but you just weren’t fast enough. Your legs were kicked out beneath you and you were pinned to the ground, forced to watch in horror as one the other men aimed his blaster at the woman.
You screamed. And he pulled the trigger.
You couldn’t pull your gaze from that woman. Someone you had spoken a few words to. Dead because of you.
The man from across the fire came around and began speaking to you. But when you didn’t look up he grabbed your chin forcing your eyes to meet his. As he began to repeat what he said, you spit in his face, barely flinching when he punched you across the face.
And this time as you laid silently on the ground, they left you there as tears burned in your throat.
You weren’t sure how long you remained there, the fire still burning hot across your face.
You welcomed the pain and prayed for the darkness to come.
Darth Maul x Jedi!Reader: Out of Bounds (One-Shot)
Word Count: 2,967
~~~~ ~~~~
You arrived on Mandalore just a short time ago to assist a fellow Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You, however, were too late. Despite your best efforts, Obi-Wan had already fled the system before you could even announce your arrival. Not wanting to waste the trip, you had your astromech droid drop you off, literally, on one of the highest points of the citadel, cloaked in darkness. Crouched down, remaining still, you breathed steadily. There was more than one Force presence there, and one that was very strong and exceptionally dark when it revealed itself. Still, you could see nothing, but your other senses remained alert; something was happening.
Across the darkened courtyard and up onto the highest of the balconies, appeared a cloaked figure wielding two red lightsabers. A Sith, you thought, and were very sure of, for no one else would bare such a colored weapon. Two additional figures, with their faces unveiled, sprung up on him with a red saber each, the brute of the two slashing around a double-bladed version. A fight was unfolding before your very eyes. You watched on as they fought; never had you seen more than one Sith at a time, much less against each other. From what you could tell, the hooded figure had no one on his side to help him, not that he needed it; the cloaked figure was kicked off the balcony by the larger opponent, only to use the Force to drag them down with him where a platform stood holding two sets of ascending and descending stairs. The three of them each landed with such precision, that you could feel the pursuit of death ebbing from them.
As the fighting ensued, you kept an eye out for anyone else that might show up. The red sabers clashed with such accuracy and determination until the large yellow Zabrak was kicked away. The red one went to retaliate, but was severely Force Pushed against the median of the upper stairs, hitting the wall hard enough to jostle and tumble him forward unconscious. Progressively, the large yellow Zabrak regained his footing to fight the hooded figure once more until being stunned enough for the cloaked one to stab him with both sabers, Force Pushing him off of the stair-platform, and landing on the ground level of the courtyard. The red Zabrak had awaken to witness this as well, rushing off of the platform to join his partner’s side as he lied on the ground. A mysterious green mist streamed out from him, making his very body shrink in size for the loss of muscle bulk. The red one even held his hand during this, making you question the severity of the Sith; could they indeed show such compassion, even so minute as that display? Though you tried, you could not hear what words left the Zabrak as he took his last breaths.
From then on, you could hear the distasteful words rippling out of the hooded Sith’s mouth, cackling in the remaining Zabrak’s misery. “Remember the first and only reality of the Sith: there can only be two. And you are no longer my apprentice.” At that, the Zabrak, whose anger you could feel rising turned his attention to the man above, who, by his voice, you could tell was much older than his athleticism would have suggested. “You have been replaced,” he pronounced sharply, hopping down to the other’s level. The red Zabrak stood up, now facing the old man, this time igniting a black Mandalorian blade to pair with his red saber, engaging the old man in another duel.
They were fighting fiercely, each one trying to out-do the other until finally the old Sith Lord grabbed the red one with the Force, slamming him on the ground, against the wall of the stair-platform, and the hard surface beneath his feet.
“Have mercy, please, please,” the downed Zabrak begged desperately, dragging himself a little ways from his attacker.
Your heart rung out for him as if he were not a dangerous Sith at all; he was hurt, in more than just a physical state.
Continuing to look on, the masterful Sith spoke with such spitefulness that it made you taste foul acid in your own mouth. “There is no mercy,” the man stated, shooting out a round of blue Force Lightning on his victim, causing such an agonizing scream that it could keep away any beast. Though as soon as it began, he stopped, watching as his opponent shivered with the remnants of the electricity. “Do not worry, I’m not going to kill you, I have … other uses for you,” he laughed as his sentence ended, only to electrify the Zabrak to no end.
You did not realize that you were holding your breath for so long as you were, transfixed on the vicious encounter that manifested before you. Was there no end to the violence during these Clone Wars? Even the Sith were against one another. However, the red one drew your eyes; he showed compassion toward his equal, and pleaded out for mercy against the other.
Drawing in a steady breath, you were about to do something that would likely turn the other Jedi’s heads, but you had such a feeling to proceed. Rounding up the Force, you leap down the structures surrounding the courtyard silently until you came upon the ground level. Force Cushioning your landing mere yards from the dark Sith, you threw out your hand toward the aggressor, Force Pushing him into the wall as quickly and strongly as you could ever muster. You did not intend to have a confrontation with that Sith Lord on your own.
Now having a clear path to the downed red-skinned Sith, you ran toward him. To your dismay, however, the hooded Sith recovered from your attack faster than expected and decided to take matters into his own hands. You spun around in time, slightly thankful for his raspy growl that had alerted you. Raising up his hands to you, blue lighting erupted out from around his bony fingers. Your eyes widened, but this was not enough to panic a Jedi such as yourself.
In turn to his strike, you flipped over to your right to avoid the range of the assault, landing on the soles of your boots with the tenacity of a Wampa going after its prey. Sequentially, you thrust your hands forward, propelling the Sith backward with the Force. He was up against the wall, but you did not release your hold on the Force, hearing the faintest of cracking along the decoratively carved wall in synchronization with the Sith’s shrieking. Taking the chance, you let go of your hold on the Force, stopping your onslaught on the enemy, he, dropping back down onto the hard surface.
Without a hesitated thought, you rushed over to the red Zabrak, kneeling beside him. His body shuddered with blue sparks from the leftover Force Lightning, making him wince before finally falling unconscious from the overwhelming pain. Taking a quick glance at the other Sith, you began to think up a plan, not having one entirely outlined as of yet. Hastily, you grabbed both of the man’s sabers, the black and red, harnessing them onto your own belt for safekeeping. Shrugging, you rose to your feet and ushered the Force to carry this injured creature up to the structures from which you came.
Managing to toss him as gently as you could, you shoved the elderly Sith away once more, seeing him pushing himself up with his slender arms; again, he was slammed into the wall. Looking back up to the building where you had left the Zabrak, you ran over, Force Jumping up to the next level to join him. Again, you lifted him with the Force to the highest point that you could undertake in this frantic situation, and jumping up to meet with him once again. Taking a breath, you walked over to the lying man, now seeing clearly the black tattoos that encased what was visible of his body. Pressing a knowing button on your commlink, you requested for your loyal astromech droid to rendezvous the ship over to your present location for immediate extraction.
Reminding yourself to keep a steady breath, you inhaled, only to stifle it in. Down in the courtyard, not a soul lurked. The Sith that you had left lying there, was seemingly nonexistent. Hearing a scratchy yell, you looked over the edge, closer to the structures manufactured below you. There, the Sith was springing up to your level, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he did so.
Nearly hitting yourself with your commlink, you called to your droid to hurry, receiving a multitude of a mechanic beeps and whoops in response. You watched on warily as the enemy approached menacingly, leaping from structure to structure like a rabid creature of the night, not paying much attention to the one lying on the ground beside you.
Bringing your wrist back toward your mouth to call your droid a third time for good measure, your nimble fingers instead reached over your belted waist for your lightsaber, easily drawing the elegant weapon out to ignite the brilliant (color) in time to block your right side from the fierce man. In but a moment, peering into the hood of your attacker, you could see that he was an old man, wrinkles and all. He yelled nastily as your lightsabers clashed, his aged teeth bared out at you. He swung the red blades at you again, left and right with such speed that you were thankful that the Force was on your side thus far; the Light at least.
“You will die, Jedi,” he growled throatily, swinging his lightsabers out behind him, readying to strike at you for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Not today,” you replied sternly, adjusting to bring your saber ahead of you to block your front defensively.
Feeling a surge through the Force, you readied to jump away or block the attack from the old man, but the attack came from an unlikely source. The Sith was pushed a good distance away from you, but not enough to throw him off of the building as you had hoped. To your astonishment, the Sith to your right rose to a defensive position, his own red blade igniting threateningly beside him, having already snatching from your belt while your blades were locked with the old man's. You could tell from your side vision that his strength still wavered, but you were only too glad to have someone fighting by your side.
The hooded Sith cackled, “You fight with the Jedi now, Maul?”
The red Zabrak to the right of you stood his ground, growling, “If it means your destruction.”
“Hah, hardly,” the other smiled grimly.
As strange as it may seem, you were fighting along side someone who welcomed the Dark Side of the Force, but you worked fairly well together. He did not falter, nor strike you down, completely battling against your shared opponent, even if he might have other more sinister ideas to rid himself of you later. You blocked left, Maul swung right. No matter how you swung your lightsaber at the hooded man, he always seemed to block it with hidden expectation.
Maul had this imposing elegance to the way he wielded his sabers. Blocking your right side, Maul held up the red lightsaber against the man’s. Risking injury, Maul kicked the abdomen of the psychotic man, and you watched as he easily flipped back over onto his feet with a toothy smile that ran a chill up your spine. Seeing the different looks in his eyes did not help in the least; with Maul he held a conniving glaze in his eyes, but one of ultimate annihilation toward you.
It appeared in slow-motion, the Sith running back in your direction, his lightsabers marking the ground while he dragged them behind him. You held firm though, holding the hilt of your (color) lightsaber with both hands, angling the blade diagonally in front of you in waiting. Could there ever be an end to this fight, or were you doomed to retreat, or worse?
Maul and yourself struck up your blades in one smooth motion as your foe cackled, much to your annoyance. Was this only a game to him? A formality?
Within a moment’s breath, the Sith Lord back-kicked you away, causing you to stumble over. In reflex, you whipped your weapon out in front of you in the off-chance that he would strike you down. He, however, obviously had other ideas in mind. No sooner you had fallen, he was electrifying Maul maliciously in his vain attempt to make him submit to his doings.
In a heartbeat, you aggressively Pushed the mysterious Sith away from Maul with the protectiveness of that of a dear friend. The dark Sith flew off the side of the building, plunging into darkness. Scrambling up off of the ground, you trotted over to the Zabrak’s side.
“Maul?” you inquired, trying to gain his attention. He was out cold again, his eyes squeezed shut and his chest unmoving. Putting two fingers to his neck, you waited for a pulse that thudded like that of a panicked herbivore’s hooves. You sighed lightly, glad to know that all of that trouble was not for nothing.
Having the worst timing in the galaxy, your droid had arrived with your ship, lowering down the entrance ramp. Shaking your head, you knew that this probably was not the wisest decision of your life. Using the Force yet again that evening to lift that man up, gently setting him down within the confines of the ship. Jumping up yourself, you sealed the door and called for your droid to set the ship’s course beyond the current star system. The droid whooped in protest until it saw you dragging someone across the floor to the medical bed in the ship. To your relief when you had managed to shove Maul up onto the med-bed, he had yet to awaken, that, and you felt the ship enter Hyperspace.
Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you snatched both of the Sith’s sabers, lest he use them against you. Placing the red one onto your belt, you walked into the small bridge within the frontside of your ship, earning a curious series of beeps.
“I’m going to need you to take care of this for me,” you said, crouching down to hand over the Sith’s light-sword.
“Good, now go ahead and check up on him,” you instructed, stepping around him to sit in the pilot’s chair after it had taken and stored the weapon within itself.
Your direction was replied with a nervous whine from the droid.
“He’s unconscious, relax,” you waved off his concerned to take full operating control of the spacecraft.
*Time-Skip via cruising through space*
After a couple of solitude minutes, you had your heart rate back down to normal. Enjoying a moment’s peace as you leaned back in your pilot-chair, the loud sporadic beeps from your astromech droid traveled into the bridge. Smashing the autopilot controls, you ran out of the bridge, through a small corridor, and into a room, the door swishing open for you.
Taking a stunned step back, you stood static near the doorway. Not only had the Sith awakened, the Zabrak was sitting up with his golden eyes now focused on you with the intensity that had been previously zeroed in on your droid. His brow-ridges furrowed and his eyes narrowed by your entrance. Not only were you visibly dressed in the attire of a Jedi, though with your own style splashed into it, you had both your own and his lightsaber attached to your belt.
“Where am I?,” he began gravelly, “why did you take me, Jedi? Am I to be presented to the Senate?”
With a breath, you answered calmly, the horns crowning his head adding to his darkening demeanor, “I haven’t decided yet.”
Maul stared at you, suspicion evident in his eyes as he questioned you, “Why?”
“Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” you countered with a raised eyebrow.
“My m—…former master was more important,” he paused, narrowing his eyes at you, “where are we headed, Jedi?”
“We’re on a steady course to Coruscant, just outside of the Inner Rim in case I do have to do what is necessary, and my name is (Y/N), not Jedi, Darth Maul.”
By the stern look on your face, he smiled faintly, “So you’ve heard of me.”
“Master Qui-Gon was a good man…”
“And were you on Mandalore on behalf of Kenobi?” he looked humored, as if the thought of Obi-Wan’s agony brought him some much needed joy.
“He obviously left before I arrived, only to see the little spat that you were involved in. Luckily, I saved you.”
“I did not need your help, Jedi,” he huffed, looking away briefly at your accusation.
“Twice,” you recalled, holding up two fingers with a smirk playing on your lips.
Maul visibly sighed, his eyes veering away in thought, shifting every few seconds.
Aside from this, you still had no clearly defined idea of whether you wanted to drop this Sith off on some remote planet in the Outer Rim, transport him to Coruscant to face trial, getting praise from the Jedi Council no doubt, or any number of options; the choice was yours.
“What’s it going to be…(Y/N)?” Maul inquired, his calculating eyes rising up to bore into yours.
Open-ended Ending Provided by … your astromech-droid wigging out over the sudden burst of possibilities.
(A/N: I came up with this idea in September, but only got around to typing it up now.)
Cuffs holding your wrists together, you were escorted by a number of Resistance members with blasters at the ready.
You had been caught off guard. Not in the sense of a battle tactic, however you were caught between deciding to end someone’s life simply because they were ‘the enemy’ or let them live because you had empathy for their inner pain.
It turned out that letting the young woman live because she said ‘all of you lead to her sister’s death’ was what lead you into a cargo ship.
Lead to what could be a lounge room, you sensed a familiar presence.
Classic blues and lilac colors adorned the older man’s attire who turned to the group surrounding you.
“Ah. So this is one of the famous Knights of Ren?” Lando Calrissian stood with fists on his sides.
“Sir,” Poe Dameron, a Resistance leader stepped ahead to the other man. “Do you really think it’s safe bringing this one on board?”
“Only one way to find out. Remove their helmet.”
You inhaled deeply. There were numerous reasons why you still wore a helmet that covered your face. Bringing up your past was one of them.
One of the beige-wearing troopers less than delicately removed the onyx mask from your head.
Exposure for who you truly were caused more unsettling twists in your stomach than having five blasters pointed at you when you chose to show no aggression towards the girl who falsely accused you, as ‘the enemy’ for her sister’s death.
Every eye was on you. Not your boots, not your now empty utility belt, and certainly not your restrained-gloved hands.
“It’s been a while,” Calrissian took another step closer to you.
Tentatively, you met his gaze.
“Nice to see you again, (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).” He rose both eyebrows. “You’ve grown up since the last time I saw you.”
The Resistance pilot beside him turned with wide eyes.
“What would your parents think of you now? A part of the First Order. Your parents risked their lives leaving the Empire and you joined the ashes of it.”
You tore your eyes away from him, it caused too much anguish and shame to think about his words.
Clarissian shook his head.
“You’d do so much better here.”
There stood a confrontational Poe Dameron. Not even addressing you while you stood right there.
“They betrayed their family and killed countless people. Why should we let them live. They know the First Order’s secrets. We can find out where they’ll strike next.” Dameron spoke as anger boiled inside you.
“Are you suggesting we interrogate them or torture, Dameron?”
“They’re murders! They don’t deserve our–!”
“How dare you.” You spat, limbs shaking. “All you do is blurt out false accusations.”
“You’re a Knight of Ren,” Dameron turned on you with fire in his eyes. “All you’ve done is kill without mercy. You don’t care about anyone.”
“I didn’t join the First Order to kill. I joined because my friend woke up one night with a lightsaber pointed his way. I joined because a man I looked up to almost slew his own nephew. I joined because I feared for my friend’s life and feared what might happen to me if I stayed at the Jedi Temple.” Heat washed over you, emotions pouring out to the visibility of others. “I did not sign up to kill anyone. And I have not been brainwashed to think anything other than my own thoughts.”
Dameron took yet another step closer, his knuckles white as he gripped his blaster at his side.
“You still killed so many.”
“And I have faced long, countless nights in severe punishment for lying to Snoke by saying I eliminated our enemies,” your hands shook involuntarily in their restraints. “I am not a monster no matter what you might think, ace pilot of the Resistance.”
It took most of your will power not to knock the brunette senseless. Even without using the Force. That wouldn’t be good form especially in front of a man you knew in your childhood before you were amongst a dozen chosen to be Skywalker’s students.
"I am more than what others have set me out to be."
Summary: Everything has come to a head with Din Djarin in your life. You've grown closer than you could have imagined in such a short amount of time. After you both are left fighting for your lives, a decision has to be made for Din and you help him make it. It leaves Din changed and you will not give up hope that your second chance with the King of Mandalore is over.
Warnings: M! Sexual content, Whump, Violence, bloody, graphic depiction of injury. Emotional distress, Self harm, depression. ANGST
CHAPTER 9|PREVIOUS|MASTERLIST
"HELP! DIN! DIN! HELP HIM PLEASE!” Your scream is rough and ragged, as Din collapses into your arms.
(moodboard was made when making moodboards was new to me)
You’re in shock unable to compartmentalize. You hear Tem, "WHERE IS GROGU!?" She has to repeat herself. Your hands slide in warm blood trying to grip Din's neck, you struggle to get the air to answer, "The Fresher!" Din is struggling on the floor in front of you. The sounds coming from him will forever be with you. His grunt turns to a gurgle. His boots scrape and screech against the flooring as he kicks, grasping at his neck in desperation. He's dying.
Din feels his body grow cold as the pain subsides, this is it, this is that thing he was afraid of, that curtain falling down with lead weights, landing on him, at least it landed on him.
Tem has Grogu in her arms, his little robe and hands still messy with purple paint. You can't catch your breath. Vance stands guard by the broken windows next to the unknown, dead Mandalorian, the daylight bouncing off the limp pile of armor.
Boba approaches and you look at him for hope. The weight in your chest grows, it's tight and you're in pain now. But you can't let go of the wound in Dins neck, you press tight, trying to hold on to whatever life he has left. His warm blood coats your hands as the sound of his beskar scraping the floor fades as his body stills. His face has lost its color, his lips purple. You cry as his eyes start to roll back in his head.
You choke out the words, "Din, baby please."
Tem has let Grogu crawl to Din's chest. You watch as the child closes his eyes and holds his dad's face with his tiny hands.
In that moment you cry out and clutch at your chest. Boba turns to you, "She's injured," His modulated accented voice tinged with panic.
He grabs you under your arms and pulls you away, Din's head drops from your lap to the floor. You can see the blue leave his lips and the color return to his face. The child starts to curl up on his chest.
Boba lays you on the floor near Din's head, you can almost touch him. You try to call out to your Mandalorian but the air won't come. You don’t understand why the floor is slippery beneath you as you fight to crawl back to him, swiping at Boba, smearing blood across his green armor. Boba slips his helmet off so you can see the face you've grown attached to, quelling your panic. He puts his hand on your shoulder pushing you back to the floor, "Hey now little star, our guy is going to be okay. He's going to live. Let's take a look at you now."
Koska comes in through the broken window with her jetpack. "Holy shit! Dank Farrik! Please tell me he's alive!"
"Are there anymore!?" Vance asks Koska.
"No," is her answer as her helmet is fixed on her Mand'alor.
Tem is on the floor, she crosses her armored legs, holding Din's hand, her young voice controlled, "He's alive. He's alive."
You turn your head to look up at Boba. It's like everything is getting further away and you can't get enough air. You hear a forced wheezing sound and realize that it's you.
"I think her lung collapsed. I see two entrance wounds, they used slugs," Boba holds your face in one of his hands. "Keep your eyes open, fight it. Tem, can he do it again yet?"
Tem shakes her head no violently.
Vance is over you now and holds a small bag out to Boba. Your vision is fuzzy, you squeeze your eyes open and close, trying to see clearly, tears and spots blurring your vision. You lift your heavy head to see what's happening. Boba pierces your chest with something and you take in one good breath and then another. "There we go, is that better little star? You're so strong." He pets you tenderly.
"Din. Din!" You turn your head to look at his unconscious form. There's a pool of blood under his head.
"He's alive, the kid helped him, stay still," Boba assures you as he keeps his hand on your shoulder.
"Med center would be a good idea," you manage to quip.
"Is a medic on the way?" Boba asks Vance.
"Yes, they're coming," they say.
You feel confused. Your eyes dart to Tem, then to Koska whose helmet is fixed on you, then to Boba who sees your expression as he asks, "What is it?"
"Boba what's that?" You ask, a lucidity falls over you as your brain slowly pieces together the scene. A warmth crawls up your backside.
Vance adds, "That's not good."
"No shit Vance!" Koska mutters through her teeth.
Koska is now down by you, "Turn her Boba, it's gotta be an exit wound."
Boba pushes you on to your side. You can see Din, he's still unconscious. Tem is still sitting by him on the floor with Grogu, who is now in her arms, stirring in her grasp. Dins eyes blink.
"Din?" You say quietly, surprised.
You hear him cough.
"Din? He's breathing?" You ask again.
"He's fine Artsy, let's fix you okay?" Koska says as she pushes something into your back.
"Artsy? You call me that when I'm not around? Is this because you saw me naked?" You croak out a joke as you bleed all over your apartment floor.
"I was hoping you'd never mention that actually," Koska retorts.
"Din? Are you awake over there yet?"
Din sits up, blood has soaked the curls at the nape of his neck, he moves slowly and then suddenly as his vision finds you, “Mal?”
"Easy boss," Boba says.
Din is on his knees by you. The side of his face and head is covered with his own blood, his eyes are filled with anguish.
"No, no, no, what happened!?" He looks frantically to his team and back to you. Din holds your head level. Koska is still holding pressure to your backside.
Tem answers first. "Vizsla sent this man, you were hit through the neck and bleeding out. We let Grogu heal you." The kids' eyes are open now.
Din holds your head to his knee, "How bad is it?" He asks Boba and Koska, but you answer.
"I'm okay, my mom is here," You can barely see her smiling face by the window.
Koska whispers, "fuck," she let's go and lays you on your back so you can look at Din better, his hands resting under your head.
"What? Cyar'ika. Don't say that–" Din's voice catches in his throat, "Mal, you stay here with me." He didn’t do it, he didn’t protect you and he can’t focus on his guilt right now.
All the Mandalorians look to the babbling kid that's forcing his way out of Tem's arms, his little hands reaching in your direction.
"Is he strong enough?" Vance asks.
Din is choking back a lump, "I'm going to let him try. Grogu, can you try?"
The kid wobbles over to you. He touches your cheek. You feel the most amazing wave of calm come over you, a peace unlike anything you've known before. There is a vibration that fills the tips of your fingers and in your toes, it doesn't last long.
"The entrance wounds are closing, take the valve out of her chest," Boba says.
Din pulls the needle that helped you breathe straight up and out of your chest. You take a deep breath and another. Din pets the side of your head and gives you a small reassuring smile, a fan of blood formed by the crinkles around his eyes that you love.
Suddenly Grogu lets go and sits down, his little body is spent. He leans over onto Din, he's done all he can. Din and Koska both roll you back over and look, there is a hole in your back on your middle right side.
Din's voice is calm but with a definite edge, "We're okay. Tem can you take the kid please?
You did good Grogu, good job buddy. Koska use the bacta spray again, see if that helps now.
And will someone fill me in please! Was this the only guy?! And where is Bo-Katan?!"
Koska uses the bacta spray from the small field kit.
"Bo-Katan is on her way now from Mandalore. As far we know, he's it, came straight to you here, Vance intercepted a comm transmission, that's how we knew," Boba says.
"I think it's her liver. This isn't working, she's still bleeding. I'm going to pack it. We can't wait any more. I'm taking her to a Med center now," Koska’s frustration echoes everyone’s in the room.
"Get her ready, I'll take her," Din sets your head down gently and gets up. He walks to his jetpack, trekking red boot prints along the way. He finds his helmet you dropped.
You feel cold, your skin is clammy and all your energy is focusing on keeping your eyes open. Din is picking you up from the floor and you cry out in pain. Koska tells you to hang in there.
"I'm going with you," Boba tells Din.
You hear pieces of transparisteel crunching under boots. Din climbs up on the ledge of the big window that is now shattered. He is squeezing you so tight against him you can't move your arms. You manage to stay awake as you get glimpses of Boba flying alongside Din. You hear a few voices shout out at you as you pass by balconies and platforms full of pedestrians in the middle of the day. Your stomach lurches as Din slows the descent to land. It's the same facility he took you to the night he found you on that bench.
"Sid! We're back!" Din shouts to the Droid at the desk as he carries you into the lobby.
Din goes right past Sid, in through the double doors. The same doctor as before moves to a sprint to meet Din who is laying you on the closest stretcher.
"What happened now!?" The doctor and nurse start running a scan.
"Two slug wounds, one exit wound on her back. Bacta did nothing," Din tells the doctor.
"I'm confused, I see no entrance wounds, but her organs are punctured..it's..what is this?" The doctor is struggling to make heads or tails of your condition.
Din removes his helmet.
"KRIFF! Get another stretcher for this one!!" The doctor shouts after seeing Din's head and neck covered in blood that's still fresh.
"No! I'm okay, I'm not hurt. Look–" Din looks intensely at the doctor and rattles off the truth, talking with his hands "–a Jedi used the force to heal her wounds but couldn't finish the job, does any of that make sense to you?"
The doctor freezes, his expression fixed on Din, the wrinkles in his face are deep, showing his age. Taking in fully what Din has just said, it's clear in his expression the concept was not foreign to him, "Yes, yes, that…does. Wow. Okay. You can wait outside."
They've placed a mask over your face to help you breathe. You try to watch Din's face as they pull you away from him, you reach your hand up, trying to pull the mask away to call to him but they stop you. You don't know why you're fighting them, you just want to go to him. They hold you down, and then you sleep.
...
Din watches you through the window. You're struggling with them, trying to get up and take the mask off. They sedate you and you lay limp. Din backs up into the wall behind him, watching the doctors work on you. His helmet on the floor beside him. He looks at his trembling hands, he didn't put his gloves on. His fingers are covered with blood that's dried, stuck in the cracks. Boba stands next to him, his helmet tucked under his arm, red fingerprints dot his cuirass. The two men stand stoic as they wait.
"She's strong, she's going to make it. I like that one Din. I know what you're thinking," Boba says calmly.
"That this is my fault and I shouldn't have tracked her down, should have just left her alone to live her life," Din says as he lays his head against the wall looking straight at you in the surgery.
"It's a good match. She's not naive. We haven't glossed over anything, she could have stayed away at any time, but she hasn't. Something I've noticed; people fall into Din Djarin's life in a strange, purpose filled way. You are fated," Boba says in a way that makes him sound like something akin to a priest.
Din reaches up and digs his palms into his eyes. He breathes a heavy sigh, "You sound like Tem now. I just wish it was easier."
The doctor comes back out. Din doesn't know how long he and Boba have been standing there, could be several minutes, could be an hour.
"She is stable, we are going to keep her under sedation and put her in a bacta tank for at least 12 hours. Mr. Djarin, are you sure you aren't injured?" the doctor informs and shows genuine concern for Din.
Dins voice is strained, like he doesn't want to answer, "No, I'm not injured, I'm fine." He closes his eyes and swallows down his guilt.
Boba asks the question for both of them, "She'll heal, she'll wake up soon?"
"Yes, she's in rough shape but I think we can repair the damage just fine. I have to say, as a medic in the rebellion, I've seen it before. Those wounds in the field…your Jedi saved her life," The veteran doctor says, his eyes revealing the ghosts that live inside him.
"Thank you Doctor, we will be back soon," Din’s eyes focus on you as they take you into another room. He looks back to the doctor, "Thank you."
"Of course and…may the force be with you," the doctor nods.
Din nods before putting his helmet back on. Din and Boba both stand outside the hospital and take off into the air, back to the scene of the crime.
As they approach, the security force, including the veteran office from weeks ago is just pulling away. Koska is standing outside. The sun is beginning to set now, casting shadows down the long alleys, adding a golden hue to everything. Din, not long ago smelled your sweet perfume and paint and now all he can smell is copper and blaster fire.
"How is she?" Koska asks, holding her helmet.
"In a bacta tank," Din growls as he stomps his way past her up the steps back into your apartment.
Tem is sitting on your sofa with Grogu sleeping in her arms, her helmet still on. Din walks over and kneels by her and the kid. He puts his hand on Grogu who is snoring. "How is he? How are you?"
Tem answers, "He's okay, I'm fine, better now that you're not dying," she almost laughs. "Din, I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner," the young Mandalorian apologizes.
"No, Tem, you did great, you're doing great kid," He says as he pats her shoulder before standing.
The body of the dead Mandalorian is still on the floor, laid flat, covered with a sheet. Koska told the authorities that it was Mandalorian business and she convinced them to leave the body to be returned back to Mandalore. Din imagines they're still going to hear from someone about this, maybe the New Republic.
They are all gathered in your shot out apartment.
Din walks over and gets a towel wet in your kitchen sink. He works to wipe the blood from his face and hands. Looking at the scratches in the floor from the first morning you spent together. His hands are no longer trembling. He doesn't say anything as he walks over to the body of the dead assassin. Din unclips the darksaber from his belt and ignites it. Its hum almost drowns out the sounds of the city coming through the shattered windows. He slices through the sheet, decapitating the body underneath it. The blade screeches as it grazes the beskar of the helmet. No one says a word as they watch.
"Boba, Koska, Vance, take this piece of shit back to Mandalore and make sure it finds its way to Paz Vizsla. Tem and I will be leaving tomorrow whether Bo-Katan approves or not."
Din is the last one to leave your apartment, the durasteel shutters have been pulled down over the broken windows. He wiped up the bloody mess both your bodies left on the floor. Tem helped to clean up the glass and pick up whatever had been knocked over. But there is still damage to your walls and furniture from all the blaster fire. The only source of light is coming in from the fresher. Din takes one last look around. The large painting you started of Coruscant from space is sitting perfectly unharmed under the window on the floor. Din puts his small painting of his last memory of Aq Vetina by your bed.
When he gets back to his hotel suite Bo-Katan is waiting at the dining table. Her red hair perfect, her face like stone. He walks past her and starts taking off his armor. He's still covered in blood and dust. He doesn’t hear her walk to stand in the doorway, she leans.
"Din, I don't know how we missed this. I don't know how he knew where she lived or to even find you there. I thought you were safe," Bo-Katan is sincere in her words.
"You can still just fight me for it, like him, if you want it, you don't have to go through Paz," Din says coldly as he packs.
She watches him, specks of blood dried to a burnt sienna on his neck, "You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that. You're upset. I almost got you killed. Is… she going to live?" Bo-Katan asks.
"I hope so…yes," Din stops organizing and shakes his head. "The Holo, it's my fault, our towers were under construction, I shouldn't have commed her," Din realizes the mistake with anger and disappointment in his voice.
"I warned you, I don't want to say it but, your guard is down around her, you'd be safer if you gave her up Din," Bo-Katan boldly suggests.
"Excuse me?" Din turns to face her across the room, "Are you suggesting I'm weaker with her in my life? That I'm somehow compromised? No, don't answer that. If I've learned anything Bo, it is that I'm much stronger when I let people in and I think you could benefit if you shared in that lesson," Din says before turning his back to her again.
"Alright well, how about this, maybe she wouldn't be in a bacta tank right now if you had stayed away. Maybe she'd be safer not having a boyfriend who endangers her life," And with that Bo-Katan starts to leave.
Din mumbles under his breath, boyfriend. He doesn’t want to let Bo-Katan know just how fond he was of you, she can believe it was just a fling or infatuation, maybe that is what he should start telling himself. He closes the lid of his trunk more forcefully than called for.
Din calls back to her, "Bo, we have to end this thing with Paz, it has to end. Are you ready?"
"What do you think I've been working on this whole time? Let's end this, for Mandalore," Bo-Katan says, the words heavy from her lips.
It's the next morning and Tem comes into the suite with Grogu in his pram. "The crest is ready, the pilot's seat is broken and I'm not going to ask why," She rolls her eyes in embarrassment.
"I want you to stay here, I won't be long," He says as leaves, he touches the side of the pram as he passes his foundling.
"Din, I like her. Please don't…I don't know, I like seeing you laugh," As Tem says this, Din puts his helmet on and leaves the room.
...
You wake up under a bright light, you're cold and your hair feels wet. Your back aches and your chest is sore but you feel relatively okay. The doctors move you to a private room. You're hooked up to an intravenous drip. All you can think about is Din, dying in your arms in front of you. The nurse says you have a visitor, your heart rate spikes.
A beautiful sky blue Twi'lek woman enters the room. "Kirah! What…how? You're here?" Your voice catches, you want to cry seeing your best friend come through the door. It's not who you were expecting, but it's certainly not unwelcome.
"I wanted to surprise you! Maker, I went to your place, your neighbors told me that there was a shootout with Mandalorians. I didn't believe them at first, then another neighbor said they saw you get carried off via jetpack…What in Holy Hoth is happening. You said you were seeing a guy and that he was a former bounty hunter…tell me, the truth," Kirah is in disbelief.
You start to open your mouth, when you see a shimmer in your peripheral vision, Din is coming into the room, full armor, helmet on.
"Well, I guess you two can meet," Your eyes don't leave Din as he enters. He pays no attention to Kirah as he comes to your bedside.
"Din, are you okay? Is Grogu okay?" You reach out and grab his hand.
Kirah watches you both curiously.
"You almost die and you ask about everyone else. I'm fine, the kid is fine. How are you?" He takes his glove off to touch your face.
You hold his hand to your face not letting him go, until he pulls away first.
"Kirah, I want to introduce you to Din Djarin, he is Mand'alor to his people," You look back and forth between the two.
"Mand'alor, what does that mean?" Kirah asks Din.
Din removes his helmet, "It means King, it's nice to meet you Kirah," Din reaches his hand out to greet Kirah. His smile is brilliant, he left his shadow of whiskers but you can tell he tamed his curls back just right before putting the helmet on. He looks gorgeous.
Kirah shakes his hand with her mouth hanging open and with heavy sass, "I'm sorry you said you're the what now!?"as she looks at both of you incredulously.
"THAT WAS EXACTLY MY REACTION! you start to laugh. It hurts to do so, but you can't stop. It might be the exhaustion or just the unbelievability of your life as of recently but your laughter is unhinged.
You catch your breath, "I'm sorry. I think one of these things I'm hooked up to is making me loopy."
Din looks at the bags hooked up to your I.V., "I think it's just you."
"Oh." you calm down.
"Kirah, I'm so sorry, I know you just got here, but I need to talk to Din alone, I'm sorry," You hold your best friend's hand now.
"That's fine, nice to meet you, Din. I'll wait in the hall," Kirah says before walking away.
It's just you and Din in the room now. He has set his helmet at your feet. He sits on the side of the bed. You both have stopped smiling.
"I want to kiss you so bad but it's going to make whatever you're about to say worse isn't it," you look at him as his sad eyes avoid yours.
"I have to go back to Mandalore, we have to finish this. It's not going to be…I can't be here for you, like I want to be, like you deserve. I don't want to put you in any more danger," Dins hand rests on your leg, he still can't look you in your eyes.
"You have to go fight Vizsla and his people, it's going to be bad isn't it?" you reach from him but drop your hand.
"Yes, we hope it ends quickly, but this is Mandalore, it could go on for a long time, but he has to pay for this," Din finally looks into your eyes as he holds your chin. It hurts worse than the blaster wounds.
"Din, I, I hate what I'm going to say. I don't want to say it, dank farrik, this–" you choke back the lump in your throat "–if you hadn't been with me, you wouldn't have died. Din, you died, Grogu saved you, I saw that. But I'm never going to forget what I saw. I can't see you die again," You take in his beautiful brown irises and warm skin, trying to memorize them more than you already have.
Din leans down and puts his forehead to yours, "I don't want to hurt you. It's the last thing I want. I wish it was different," he squeezes your shoulder, "I like being near you, I want to buy you flowers and take you places and watch you paint…my life, I can't do that, right now."
"Kiss me, please," Your tug him towards you.
Din leans in, the press of his lips and his beckoning tongue pains you, he pulls away once you taste your tears.
You gather your resolve and sit up, you look Din in the eyes. "Din Djarin, I'm going to tell myself I'll be okay, that I will move on from this, from meeting you and all the amazing days we spent together. Getting to know you has been an honor, getting to know your friends has been the most incredible time of my life. I'm going to tell myself I'll be fine. I will keep painting and go on with my life. I need you to do the same. I need you to fight for your clan and the life you want. Please, please don't let whatever is going to happen take away your peace. You've earned every ounce of rest that comes your way. Stay alive, so you can enjoy that rest, please."
"You'll tell yourself you'll be fine? That's not as comforting to me as you hope it would be. I told you, the thought of you being in the same place I found you, you are too good to be down there again, in that darkness. I promise I'll do my best to stay alive if you do the same," Din pleads with you.
You nod. "Maybe we'll find each other again? You can come find me if you want to, after your fight with Vizsla is over?" You don't know why you're hurting yourself with that suggestion.
"I, I don't know who I'm going to be after this is over…I can't imagine not wanting to come back to you, but I also don't want to make a promise I can't keep," Dins words seep from the cracks in his breaking heart.
"We have to say goodbye don't we?" You choke back a sob.
Din's voice barely makes a sound, "We do, I'm sorry Cyar'ika." Din kisses you delicately, one more time before he pulls away quickly to put his helmet on.
"Goodbye," the word crackles through his modulator.
"Goodbye Din," You whisper before he turns and walks out.
Din passes Kirah quickly. You weren't even sure if you loved him. But if the way you feel right now is any evidence, then the verdict leans heavily in favor of love. Maker, why did you have to fall in love with him? You don't say anything, you lay your head back on the pillow.
Kirah comes back in and sits down by you,"Oh honey. Come here." She holds you as you sob on her shoulder.
"We were just getting started K, he has to leave and there is nothing we can do about it. I'm. so. sad. this sucks," your breath hitches into hiccups.
"I know…I'm so sorry. He was really really pretty," Kirah pouts as she holds you.
You cry, "You really have no idea."
Kirah stays for a whole week. You take that time away from the bar, the symphony painting sold so you can afford to. By now everyone in the neighborhood knows you're the girl who brought the Mandalorians. You still don't tell anybody about who they were or what role they played in taking back their planet. It's not your story to tell, well, accept Kirah, but she doesn't count. You frame Din's painting and hang it on your wall. It hurts to look at it but it's comforting to see that he was real and what you had was just as real.
Weeks pass, you resist every urge to call and check in on him. You finally give in and it doesn't go through, the channel is dead. Grief is supposed to improve with time, but when you know he's still out there fighting for his life, it doesn't. You try to use the tools you gained after your last battle with yourself. You handle it very well for a while. You lay in bed, lonely, missing him, you miss all of them. You hope he's okay, your gut tells you he's not, but there is no way of knowing, yet. You still hold out hope that you'll find each other again.
It's been almost two months since you said goodbye to Din. You've been taking care of yourself, keeping up your appearance, you smile, you laugh plenty. You've even sold art, and the gallery has been really good to you. Outwardly, you look great. But all it takes is a couple of rough nights. Nothing in particular happens, but you can't do it anymore. The drunk crowd last night was your final straw for work. You know it could be temporary, this sunken feeling, but you don’t have the strength right now to reach out and desperation gets the best of you.
You make three small deep cuts on top of your wrist. It does what you want it to and that's the worst part about it. You cry for hours before falling asleep. You'd been holding it together so well, you really did not see this moment coming. You promised Din you wouldn't go to that dark place, but it's not like you traveled there, you tripped into it. You tripped and you'll get back up.
...
It's been three weeks since he said goodbye to you in that med center.
Din Djarin is surrounded by ash and mud. The thick wet ground threatens to trap him. He is pinned; his helmet lay beside him. One side of his face is black and bloodied, his eye is concealed by the swell of his fractured cheekbone. The darksaber lay on the ground just out of reach. Paz Vizsla has him pinned down using the force of his jetpack to drive Din into the ground. Din’s ship lands nearby, in sight.
"What!? You think that Jedi scum kid of yours is going to help you now! It's mine, Djarin! You lose!" Paz shouts as he digs a blade into Din's right armpit.
Din reaches once more for the darksaber, with his left hand, it flies into his palm. Din screams as Paz’s blade twists out of his shoulder, Paz brings the blade resting the tip over Din’s Ka’rta beskar. In one motion Din finds the weak spot under Paz's chin and ignites the darksaber into his helmet. The force of the saber against the helm reverbs down Din’s arm into his chest and he screams again. His body is filled with a pain that transcends the physical and for a moment he swears he is no longer tethered to the only plane of existence he’s ever known. For a moment he floats painlessly somewhere delicate yet immense before he is thrust back into his agony.
From the safety of the cockpit, Grogu stands in deep concentration. He flicks his little hand and Paz's body flies through the air off of Din. Nik and Tem run down the ramp, Boba Fett lands his jetpack.
Those loyal to the Mand'alor won the fight that had been going for two weeks. Vizsla supporters lay dead or dying, some surrendered after they saw their leader killed.
Bo-Katan runs alongside the stretcher as Din is evacuated, "It's done Din! you hold on dammit!"
Grogu has been working so hard, his little body is tired, he does his best for his dad. Which is just enough to keep his heart beating before he can't do anymore.
"It's okay, kid," Din says to his boy as he looks into his glossy eyes that are now falling shut.
"Nik, get him out of here, no more, please, he needs rest," Din croaks from the stretcher.
Boba sits next to Din as they head back into the city, he takes Dins hand into his. "You hold on. You'll be able to rest soon enough brother."
Dins lips are moving and what he's saying is barely audible through the swell of his injuries, "I promise, I promised."
Weeks later Din is looking in the mirror. The fight with Vizsla is done. Why can't he sleep, he was supposed to hang onto the bit of peace he had found. But he's lost it. He can't rest, everything feels heavy again. In his fresher he stands at the steel and marbled stone vanity, he looks in the mirror and pokes his finger at the red scar on his face. It's horizontal under his right eye. The fight nearly annihilated him. The physical scars pale in comparison to the internal. He was comatose in a bacta tank for a week. His last wish before losing consciousness was to let Grogu rest. The kid slept for days, only waking to eat. Din feels immense guilt for asking the child to help at all.
He runs his hand through his hair that's grown longer, he imagines your touch and it kills him. He takes the scissors and cuts it off. It's mercilessly short, now he can't imagine you finding a curl and toying with it as he lays across your chest. He leaves the whiskers, why bother, he rarely leaves the newly finished palace.
Din sits at his large desk going over plans that were sent his way. He is fulfilling his duties as Mand'alor, to the best of his ability, but turns away help. The palace is taking notice.
Boba Fett enters the room, "You look like shit."
"Good to see you too," Din retorts flatly.
"I came by to tell you I'm going off planet for a couple days, I won't be gone long," Boba tells Din plainly.
"Okay, is that it?” Din asks.
"No. Do you want to talk about what's going on with you?"
"Not really. Is that all Boba?" Dins words are curt.
"No. Do you still think about her?"
"Every kriffing day Boba, are you done yet?" Din is losing patience, he finally looks up from his work.
"Yes. I'll be back soon," Boba says before leaving. Din watches him walk away, the doors slide shut, sealing out the bustle from the halls on the other side. It’s silent until he sends a datapad crashing into the opposite wall, pieces chip and crash to the floor. Din rolls his scarred shoulder letting the pain guide him away from everything he wishes he wasn’t feeling.
...
It's the next day, you wake up, your eyes are crusted with your salty tears. Blood from your wrist is smeared on your bed. You push down the disappointment and get cleaned up to go about your day. It's a new day, a fresh start. You're out of bacta patches, so it looks like you'll be adding a new scar to your old collection. You put a plain gauze wrap around your wrist. The long sleeves of your shirt cover it for the most part.
Only half of your windows have been replaced since the attack. They're making you pay for much of the repairs. Your apartment is gloomy because of that.
You change your sheets, do the couple of dishes in your sink. You get dressed and even do your makeup to lift your spirits. You sit in front of a blank canvas. You sit, and you sit and you sit. Then you jump at the sound of your door being buzzed. It works now, because one of the days Din was here, he fixed it for you. It's just another reminder of him that you love.
"Who is it?" You ask through the speaker.
"Hey there little star, you want to let me up or should I break another window? Boba Fett responds.
"Boba!? Come, come up!" You let him in.
Your mind races, is he alone? Has something happened to Din? Are they all back working with the engineers?
You open your front door and there he stands in his signature green armor with black robes underneath. His stoic handsome face almost breaks into a smile for you.
"Come in, please don't tell me Din is dead because I'll be so pissed," You quip.
"No, our guy is alive," He helps himself to sit on your sofa. He looks to the scorch mark on your floor where the darksaber struck it. "I came by to see you."
You sit on the other end of the sofa. "Me? I'm okay, I was just painting. And he's not my guy anymore Boba, he's Mandalore's guy."
Boba looks at the blank canvas, "Looks like it's coming together nicely."
"Okay, well, inspiration is slow to come these days."
Boba lets out a sigh before he speaks, “The fight with Vizsla is done. It was hard. He'd have died again if it wasn't for the Jedi child. He told me he thinks about you every day," Boba's expression is sullen when talking about his friend.
"So, you came all the way here to tell me this? Why didn't he come himself?" Your tone gives away your rising frustration.
"He barely leaves his room, much less the planet and he doesn't know I came.”
"Oh…", is all you can think to say. You lift your hands to your face and lean on your knees. You almost mumble through your fingers, "Boba, I can't hear this, we decided, we both did that it's better if he can focus without me around and I'm safer without getting involved. He said he didn't know who he'd be, when it was done…you can't speak for him."
Boba scoots closer to you and gently takes your arm. He's obviously spotted the bandage. He doesn't say anything as he lifts the sleeve.
You inhale and hold your breath, trying not to cry. Boba takes off the gauze to reveal the fresh cuts on top of your wrist.
"You wrapped that wrong. The sterile side goes down, let me," He gets up and goes to your fresher for fresh gauze and sits back down.
You don't say anything while a couple tears escape your eyes. Boba gently and expertly rewraps the cuts. He then takes off his pauldron from his shoulder and pulls you in. You lay your head there, on his shoulder, for a time.
"Thank you," You say as you lift your head.
"Din hasn't rested and I don't think you have either," Boba suggests as he leans into the sofa with a sigh. For the first time, you see he's tired too. You believe he did just come here to see you.
"I really can't say if this would not have happened anyway Boba, I'm not always well you know.”
"I know that, Din knows that. Besides, who is, little star?" He looks around.
"Where is the one of Coruscant? That one was impressive," He's looking for one of your paintings.
"It sold," You say without enthusiasm.
"That's good. I also really like the one Din bought."
Confused, "He didn't buy any of my paintings," you say.
"Yes he did, the one of the raindrops, on the street, looks like his beskar." Boba thinks you've lost it.
"What? He…that man. Anonymous buyer off world. Was all they told me. He kept calling it his painting. I was going to give it to him if it didn't sell. As a gift for saving my life," you smile thinking about him. "I miss him."
"I was going to invite you to come ride with me back to Mandalore. It's safe, the threat is gone. The palace is done. It's ugly."
You pause briefly, inhale and nod. "Okay. I'll go. If he doesn't want to see me, that's fine…I'd like to see everyone. Besides, I think I basically quit my job last night. It's fine." You tell him plainly.
"I don't have anyone to water my plants," you think out loud.
Boba looks over to the yellow, shriveling pathetic plants on your worktable, "I don't think you should let that stop you."
"Does your Rancor live on Mandalore now?" You ask.
Boba looks at you sideways, a joy sparks in his eye, "My Rancor does live there."
You gasp, clasp your hands together and smile with delight.
You have a bag packed with plenty for more than several nights and you decide to bring Din his painting. He should be the one to have it. It's his memory.
You spend long enough on Boba's Firespray. He fills you in on how touch and go it was for Din. It makes you almost sick. He warns you that if or when you do see him, you might be shocked. You ask if he's disfigured. He said it's not the scars on the outside that will upset you. He tells you how they beat Vizsla and how they hid Grogu and used his abilities at the last minute when Paz was under the impression he had won. He says it came too close and he was furious at Bo-Katan and Din for that.
You are moved by the beauty of hyperspace. You're not surprised by how ugly Mandalore from space looks. You were surprised by how shiny New Sundari is as you approached the rebuilt domed city that is still heavily under construction.
You land in the hangar for the palace. You're grabbing your bag, getting ready to exit. You peak at a reflective surface. You still look pretty good for traveling so far so quickly with only a tiny fresher to get cleaned up in. Boba has exited the ship and is at the bottom of the ramp. He is talking to a Mandalorian whose back is to you. From a distance, very quickly you take in their appearance from behind. They have plain shiny armor, a familiar dark grey suit underneath and a deep red cape on with a heavy cowl. They have short dark brown hair. You pause at the scar you can just make out through their hair on the back of their head. You scan the broad shoulders and size of the pauldrons.
"Din?" You don't mean to say it out loud. Your heart thumps. Are you afraid? Are you excited? Is it even him?
The Mandalorian turns and it takes seeing just a tiny sliver of his profile to send your heart leaping and your stomach into your throat.
He's facing you now and it's almost overwhelming. He's very much the same man but he is different. It's not just his appearance. Yes, his hair is so short, you didn't know he could be so pale, his bags under his eyes are heavier. His once perfect face now has a scar. It's the way he's looking at you. He's looking at you like you're haunting him, except he's the one who looks like a ghost. You see baggage laying at his feet.
"Din, you were telling me where you were going," Boba addresses him.
Din's face relaxes into something more familiar to you and he doesn't break your gaze. His voice pierces you, it vibrates right into your center. A sound you realized how badly you needed to hear "Coruscant…I was going to…" he stops talking.
"You can still go," you say, not breaking his eye contact.
He speaks slowly as his eyes take you in up and down and circling you, "No, now I don't have to…you're here. I can't believe it." He's sincerely enamored by your appearance in front of him.
He walks to you, footfalls heavy on the durasteel, his cape billows for a second. He's on the ramp, you're almost at his height with the incline. You take him in, his eyes are still so beautiful. The scar that sits horizontal, high on his cheek is still fresh. You can't stop yourself; you reach out and hold his heavily whiskered face. Your thumb grazes his scar. You scrape your fingers through his hair, no curls left to catch. He reaches up and grabs your wrist. Pausing when he feels the bandage, a bacta patch Boba had on his ship for you.
"Hi," is all you manage to say.
"Hi," his lip jerks, teasing a smile.
"How are you?" He asks, moving his hands absentmindedly to your waist and down to your hips, holding you there.
"I'm okay, been better, ya know," You shrug.
"Yeah, same," He pulls you closer. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, looking towards your feet.
"Of course," You whisper. Din wastes not a millisecond, his lips are wrapped in yours. You throw your arms around his neck. He holds you around your waist. As he backs down the ramp with you in his arms your feet leave the surface. He holds you as you kiss for what feels like forever and no time at all.
Din puts you down. You see Boba walking away. He knew exactly what he was doing bringing you here.
"I'm sorry, I should have done this sooner…I couldn't," Din holds the back of your neck.
"It's okay, I'm fine, Boba filled me in on how bad it was. Din, I'm so glad to see you. I wasn't sure if you were ready, but I came anyway," You pull him in for a hug. He holds you and you hold him.
Din lets out a small breathy laugh, "Well, I was just getting ready to come to you." He releases your hug, "Here let me help." He takes your bag.
"Wait, I have one more thing." You walk back up the ramp and grab the painting. "I thought you might want it back, it's your memory, you should have it."
Din doesn't say anything, you can see him getting lost in his memories for a moment. "Thank you." He walks over and grabs his bags too. His hands are full, he motions his head, "Shall we?"
"Yes, oh, your helmet…", you pick it up from the ground by his feet.
Din drops his knees down, "Put it on for me."
You pause looking right into his eyes before you slip his helmet on for him, and kiss his lips before his face disappears behind the iconic T shaped visor.
He leads you into the palace. There are a few people around, they're working. Some are in armor, some are not. You get sideways glances, they're trying not to stare as you walk down the hall with their Mand'alor, who is carrying your luggage.
He leads you to his room. It's as big as your apartment, it has a sitting area, a big bed, a huge desk that's filled with datapads and other work piled up. The weapons he's not wearing are on a rack on the wall, it's a large array. He has a stand for his armor, there are other pieces on another stand. One looks like his cuirass he had last you saw him, but it's heavily dented. The bacta tank stands out. Off to the side is his master fresher. He has a big bathtub. You smile when you see it. Your favorite feature is the stained transparisteel window, it's a beautiful abstract arrangement of reds, oranges and yellows. It's evening and the light filters in through it, the room glows amber.
He has set the luggage down. He stands in front of you. You reach for his red cape. "I like the red, it's beautiful, a beautiful way to honor your parents."
He leans in and gives you a Keldabe kiss.
"You want to use that bathtub don't you?" He says, you can hear the smile in his voice.
"Oh baby you know it," You poke his stomach.
"Say that again, call me baby again," He takes his helmet off and tosses it on his bed.
"Baby." Din scoops you up into his arms, cradling you. You laugh and it makes him laugh. His smile is still perfect.
His eyes crinkle as they rake in the memory of you, "You're so beautiful."
One of his double bedroom doors pops open.
You hear a squeal, it's Tem, "oh! I'm sorry! Sorry, nice to see you again! I'll close the door, sorry Din!"She shouts as she closes the door. You hear her yell for Nik.
"It hurts, I can tell, put me down..baby, please", you want to take care of him.
"I'm supposed to be using the bacta tank but I haven't, I'll start," He shakes his head and winces as he sets you down.
You lead him to the bathroom. You start helping him unhook his armor and laying it on the large counter. He slips his boots off, and you your shoes. You pull your pants off. He pulls his pants off. You pull your shirt over your head. He stops and strokes the back of his hand down your arm. He starts to lift his shirt over his head, but you see it. It's painful for him. So you help. Your eyes travel up his torso, there is a large new cluster of scars on his side, like he was burned badly or maybe it was shrapnel that was embedded. It covers the side of his ribcage. He's watching your face. There is a large scar down the front of his right shoulder that goes down into his armpit. You swallow heavy, it looks like he almost lost the limb.
You lay your hand on his shoulder over the large angry mark, "Thank you for staying alive, it clearly wasn't easy."
He takes your bandaged wrist in his arm, "I could say the same to you."
"Yeah, Um, that is from last night. It was a bad night, Din. I barely remember even doing it now," You speak softly, "It’s pathetic."
He cups your face into his hands, gently but also firmly. He looks right into your eyes, his brow furrowed, "You…are not to ever call yourself pathetic again…ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. And I don't want to hear you say that." He kisses your forehead.
"What does that mean?" You take his palm and kiss it.
"It means…It means I love you," He watches you for your reaction.
You grin, "Oh, thank the maker." Din looks confused. "I love you too Din! I knew I had fallen for you the second you walked out of that medical room."
"It took everything in me to not turn my ship around," He looks sad.
"Sit down," You gesture to the stool by the vanity.
"What?" Din is confused when he sits down.
You open the big vanity cabinet and find scissors, razor and shaving cream.
"Oh…hey I told you I don’t always try," Din points as he talks to you.
"I told you, you can do whatever and still be gorgeous, but your haircut is uneven and I know those long whiskers are driving you crazy by now," You throw a towel over his shoulders. "Will you let me?" You ask your Mandalorian.
"Please Cyar'ika, you have no idea how much I would like that," He runs his hand over his hair.
"I have some idea," you say before kissing his lips.
You fix his hair that he had cut himself so carelessly. It's already so short but you clean up around his ears and by his neck. He closes his eyes in relaxation as you shave his face. You stop when you get to his lip,"Mustache?" He makes a low grumbling noise that basically says no. You roll your eyes, "You win this time," you say as you swipe the razor carefully above his lips. Din looks in the mirror.
"It's an improvement, but I'm afraid it's not the same face you said goodbye to," He turns to you.
A delicate sweetness coats your words as you run your finger down the length of his nose, “Yes, it is, I'd know this face anywhere."
"It was a lot, the kid, I feel so much guilt, he's fine, happy now but…"he shakes his head slowly, his voice catches in his throat and he can't finish, capillaries swell in his eyes before he can shed the tears that sit there.
"You don't have to talk about it yet, if you don't want to. But whenever you do. I'll listen. Okay?" You don't want to push him.
You turn the tub on and let it run to fill. Din pulls you into him. You're both in your underwear, your bodies are touching each other, fitting like two puzzle pieces.
You grab his smooth face and kiss his mouth, you rest your lips on his scarred cheek. He kisses your neck and nibbles your ear, nuzzling you. You are tangled in each other's arms before you take Din's hand and pull him out to his big bed. You make love to each other. It isn't rushed, it's soft, warm and slow. He's so gentle pushing into you and your notes of ecstasy echo off the high ceiling.
The amber light is dim now. The sky is always cloudy on Mandalore. The sconces on his walls come on automatically. He's lying on his back and you're listening to his heart. Grateful for every beat.
"I don't have to leave you know, I can stay as long as you'll have me," Your voice disappears into his chest as your head is buried there.
"Really? But who's going to water your plants…", he can't finish the sentence without laughing.
You laugh with him and clear your throat. "I'm serious though, I quit my job, the gallery has been really good for me. I can paint from here…on Mandalore. I can have my work sent there to sell, like so many other artists do. I used to pride myself in being a local…but, it never served me. It's not what makes me a good artist." You look up to his face, "Is that too soon?
You can think about it. You don't have to answer yet, I can go home in a few nights if you'd rather do it that way."
He looks down at you with his deep dark eyes, "Stay, stay here with me, with my clan. I know Coruscant has always been home, so I understand if you don't want to. But we can visit whenever, we can travel when we send a team there. It will be easier to court you if you’re always around."
You smile and crane your neck up to kiss him.
"Is this allowed, I'm not Mandalorian, I'm just some random lady," You say with a chuckle.
"I'll write a decree, random ladies must be allowed to sleep in Mand'alor's bed, and give him backrubs," Din shrugs.
He rolls onto his stomach, "see it's already written." You straddle him and start massaging him. He groans. "I mean it, I love you, stay, if that's what you want. We'll figure it out. I want you here, the others want you here."
You stop rubbing his back, "The water!" You start to run naked across the room to turn off the sure-flooding bathtub.
One of the bedroom doors pops open, you freeze and a woman covers her eyes and slams the door, you hear her yell through the door. "THAT DID NOT JUST HAPPEN AGAIN!" It's Koska.
You bowl over with laughter. Din is in shock; he's secretly praying Koska did not see him.
You hear her yell again, "THE BATHROOM IS FLOODING AND YOU SIR REALLY NEED TO LOCK YOUR DOORS DURING WORKING HOURS. PLEASE."
"IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU KOSKA!" you shout through a laugh.
"Hi Artsy, glad you made it," You hear come back through the door.
You turn off the tub and pull the plug. You can deal with the water later. You walk back to Din. He's lying naked on his back now, propped up on one arm behind his head. The golden glow of the room makes his skin look warm now, like it used to. He has a red throw covering his hips. He's watching you walk over so you go slower.
His voice taking on a smoothness full of contentment, "Is this real?"
You pause and look at him, you see it now, the painting by his bed, the rain reflecting his beskar, his painting. "I'm yours as long as you'll have me Din Djarin," You crawl back up onto his chest and lay there.
He kisses your head and whispers, "My Cyar'ika."
"I love being your sweetheart," You nuzzle into his neck and stay there.
PART 10->
Act Two: Not every Mandalorian is open to your move and the trauma of Din's battle with Viszla affects more than just him. Grogu's abilities become necessity when the Darksaber reveals a deep trouble. Bo-Katan reaches out to an old friend to help you and Din overcome a challenge.
(moodboard was made when making mood boards was new to me)
Mand'alor!Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (oc)
Word Count: 3,200
Summary: You were supposed to simply meet Din downstairs to let him into your crappy apartment building for your second evening together. Before you know it, you're in the dark, being thrown in the back of a speeder. Unbeknownst to your abductors your new friend the King of Mandalore is around the corner.
Warnings: reader is abducted, blindfolded, gagged. Violence isn't described because you can't see it. Non graphic death. Mild injuries described. Mention of past injury. Mandalorians being hot by just standing there. Boba Fett being IMO perfect.
<-Chapter 4
The cord stings as it digs into your wrists as they’re being tied up, quickly. Your feet lift from the ground as you're being put in a transport of some kind by what has to be two people; or one extremely large person, your head smacks against something quite hard, stunning you. It’s eerily silent as you try to call out, you hear your own heart pounding and the heavy, sonorous snorts and breathing of the brute who is manhandling you. One of them grabs your arm, with their huge rough hand. It's the same arm that just recently healed from being sliced open with a vibroblade. You cry out under the hood and through your gag and do your best to kick at whoever has you.
That's when you hear him, "Don't," it's spoken firmly, loudly and modulated. A muffled shot of a blaster, followed by a thick grunt. It's two people, the huge man that's on you now pushes you into the seat, knocking the breath from your lungs. You hear an odd sound, like a zipping metallic sound.
The huge man is off you now and you hear two more blaster shots, they echo off the building.
“Mal!” Dins rich voice is calm and beautiful and instantly you know you’re safe.
"I'm here!" Din calls out to you. He grabs your hand and pulls you upright in the seat. He pulls the hood from your head and you can see now. Blinking away the blur, you're in the back of a speeder. In the alley behind your building. They didn't even have a chance to pull away, the idiots.
Din is gentle as he pulls the gag from your mouth. You cough trying to catch your breath and your bearings. You know exactly where to look into his eyes through his visor. Dins hands are holding your face, "Are you hurt? Talk to me."
Tears are starting to form in your eyes, "Yes, no, I don't know." You're shaking but you don't realize it. Everything happened so fast.
"I'll help you out of the speeder, can you stand?” you nod feebly. “Mal, I want you to stay looking at me, those guys, they're dead, I killed them, and you don't have to look if you don't want to."
Din helps you up and out, you keep your eyes fixed on him, anywhere on him, his visor, his hand, his boots. Din holds you close to his body and that's when you notice, you wiggle your fingers, but you can't feel them. There is a lump forming over your scar. You hold both arms close to keep Din from seeing you shiver. Your chest hurts, like you ran into a wall. Your adrenaline is rushing.
"Boba, can you come meet me. I have a situation, just you for now. Thanks." Din speaks into his helmet.
He grabs your face again, he's tender, "Are you hurt? You haven't said anything yet."
Your voice cracks, "I, I um can't feel my hand?"
"What?" He sounds mad but you know it's not at you. He takes your right arm.
"No, this arm, the left, the one I…doctors told me there'd be nerve damage, so I don't know," you hold that arm up.
Din holds it delicatly, "Those Karking bastards, we'll have a doctor look at it, I can't tell if it's broken. Let me look at you." He holds your chin, he tilts his helmet, he takes one glove off, holding your shoulder with the other hand. He gently pushes with his fingertips on your collar bone and touches the top of your sternum. "Does that hurt when I touch you there?" he asks so seriously. He has excellent bedside manner.
You're barely audible but he hears you fine, "Yeah, yes, they were heavy and shoved me." you nod your head.
"It's bruised, can you breathe deep, no pain?" he asks.
You inhale, tears escape down your cheeks "Yeah, I mean no it's fine, feels fine," You huff out a little laugh, "Dr. Din, how are you so good at this?" You ask him.
"Hardly, I've had to be my own doctor in the past, which was...often," Din says with exasperation, holding your shoulders before his thumb brushes away a tear.
"But not anymore?" you ask him with a hint of concern and empathy in your voice. Your uninjured hand is resting on his chest.
"No, not anymore," he says with an air of reassurance coating the words. Which you imagine was for him and not you. He had a covert, but he continues to give the impression that he was lonely back then.
He pulls you into his cold beskar clad chest and wraps his arms around you. “I've asked a member of my team to come down, we're going to figure out why this happened, okay?"
You hear, what you now know is a jetpack. You look up at Din, "Din, I don't want to look at them but I think I'll have to eventually."
You see a Mandalorian in a lovely shade of dark green armor approaching Din from behind. "Boba is here, look at me, the dead guys are behind you, don't turn around yet if you're not ready. Keep this arm here, elevated like this,"Din tells you patiently as he takes your injured arm and places it diagonally across your chest.
You nod, "okay, I'm ready." You turn around with Din right behind you as you look at the two corpses. Both are male, one is a Trandoshan and the other a Crolut, you've never seen either of them before.
You hear an softly accented voice come from the man in green armor, "Do you recognize them?"
You shake your head, "No, I've never seen either of them."
You haven’t heard Din sound nervous yet, so you can’t be sure, but maybe he is when he introduces you, “Boba Fett, this is Malla Horne.”
You have your free hand clutching your injured arm and don’t offer it. Boba removes his helmet, "It's nice to meet you, wish it was under different circumstances," he says with a slight raise of his eyebrows.
You've met two Mandalorians now and Boba is older but holy hell, are they all impossibly good-looking?
Boba turns to talk to Din, "We've got two dead bodies in a Coruscant ally, and quite a few eyeballs peeking through some shutters, if someone hasn't called patrol yet, they will, what's the story Boss?"
"I think this is my fault," You and Din say simultaneously while pointing your finger at yourselves.
Boba's expression is unimpressed and so is his tone "Oh, good."
"What? What are you talking about, I had another death threat back on Mandalore…" Din starts.
Boba interrupts, "Threats, plural."
"Anyway, it's unlikely but they may have been watching me and were going to use you as bait or something," Din says, his movements getting more animated the more upset he gets.
"I THINK I ACCIDENTALLY HELPED LAUNDER MONEY," you really didn't mean to shout.
"The plot thickens," Boba adds dryly.
Din tilts his helmet at you, one hand on his hip, "You think you did what?!"
"Looks like she can explain that to the patrol," Boba looks past you both. His Sabacc face is much better than Dins. A speeder with lights flashing has just pulled up, two officers approach.
"I went by the gallery, and they put credits in my account when they shouldn't have and then a couple hours later the credits were gone," You say five times fast at a stage whisper to get it out before the police get closer.
"Two Mando's, two dead guys and a lady, right, so what's all this then?" a very confident, sarcastic security droid quips.
"Why do you say stuff like that? Why you gotta say that? Be more professional. Sorry about him, he's new. We do have questions, why are these two dead, who are you and who killed them?" a human female cop asks. She looks old enough she might be retiring soon.
You rattle off about how you went downstairs, they put the hood over your head, your injuries. You tell them about the weird thing with the credits from the gallery and how you've heard stories about money launderers. All while the female cop takes notes and the rookie scans the bodies and takes notes on the scene.
"Okay, and you? You took 'em out?"The female cops point to Din.
"I saw the Trandoshan getting in the driver's seat, he jumped out, I shot him, the Crolut was…he was tying her up in the back, I dragged him from the speeder, he was bigger, two for him. I found her in the back with a hood over her head," Din offers very casually, almost mirroring the officer’s energy.
"Welp, these guys are wanted,the list is long, drugs, assault, robbery and kidnapping. Looks like you did the topside a favor, almost getting nabbed here with your Mandalorian friend doing our job for us," The Rookie adds.
"Seriously shiny, be more appropriate, I'm gonna have the chief send you down below, good grief. Okay then, looks like it was the wrong place, wrong time or right time, for you miss. Do we need to call any medical services for you for your injuries?" The veteran cop asks.
"Maybe, I….", you tell her, cradling your arm, glancing at Din, he shakes his head no at you and you listen to him for some reason. "No."
"I need names for the record please," the female cop asks.
It's all very surreal for you, standing next to Din and Boba Fett while police work to clean up the two dead guys who just tried to abduct you, probably to sell you a hundred levels below you.
"No joke, did you just say you're Boba Fett? That's amazing, sir, my sister-in-law lives on Tatooine. She saw you ride a Rancor to take out the kriffing Pyke syndicate; she sings your praises to this day. Din Jarod? Never heard of ya. Boba Fett, very wizard," the veteran officer shakes her head as she walks away. Din raises his finger like he wants to correct her but gives up.
You forget your arm, the dead guys being bagged up and look at Boba looking at Din, you start laughing.
"She knew who I was." Boba says dryly with his accent making it sound even better. You just met him, but you need to be his friend.
Din turns his head to you as you stand there giggling, "I see you're less shaken now."
"Well, a little, yeah. I still can't feel my arm," you look down, it's started to swell.
"Okay, we need to get that looked at. Hey, what do you think the reaction would be if I brought her back to the hotel and used my station to get a private doctor to come look at her?" Din asks, turning to Boba. Then he turns to you, "The security force has the worst medical service…you need better."
"I think you know the answer to that. But I'll help," Boba says with a shrug.
"Would that be okay with you?" Din asks you.
"Yes, but I left everything unlocked upstairs, so I need to go in first," you say as you start to walk in.
"We'll be your security detail,” Boba offers following behind.
"Wow! I'm honored, the legendary Boba Fett, private security, and that shiny one, Jarod, can come too.”
Boba looks back at Din, "I like her."
Din nods and if his helmet was off, you'd see him wink.
You get to your door, but you can't remember the code. You're staring at the keypad. "Oh, I remember!" you think out loud.
"Let us go in first," Boba offers.
"Okay, yeah, feel free to look around," You always offer that, as your walls are covered in art.
Din follows behind you, his hand at the small of your back. Boba doesn't really need to check the corners because it's just one room but he pokes his head in the fresher anyway. "Okay, all clear," Boba says with that tone, it's hard to tell if he's serious or not.
Din takes his helmet off now. You can tell he's been wearing it all day by the way his hair is smashed down. He takes a deep breath. Boba is looking at the work on the wall, not saying anything. He's possibly more stoic than Din, his face is harder to read. Din on the other hand, has a terrible Sabacc face with the helmet off, he's had much less practice. That's another thing you want to ask him about. Both their helmets are on the kitchen table.
You pause to look at the two helmets sitting side by side on your kitchen table. "One plain, one green. Huh." You trip over nothing, "oops."
Boba is watching you now.
You walk over and pick up the data pad you threw, and the teacup off the couch. You start to close your window. "Ow fuck," You cry out.
"Let me get that," Din closes the transom for you.
You're wincing now. You can't feel your hand but pain is now radiating up into your shoulder. Looking up at Din, "Should I pack something, in case I don't come back here tonight?" you ask him quietly.
Din nods subtly.
You grab a few items from the closet and shove them in a bag, and your toiletries from the fresher. You want to take your datapad too, so you grab it.
You glance around,"Okay, that's everything."
You start to close your closet, Din approaches behind you and grabs a silken scarf that's hanging on a hook. "Here, we need to elevate this," He starts to take your arm and make a sling but Boba stops him.
"No, you're doing that wrong," the older Mando approaches.
Din takes offense, "No I'm not."
"Ah, ow!" You cry out.
"Okay, maybe I am. I'm sorry," He kisses your head, and that helps.
Din steps aside, Boba steps in front of you and silently, expertly offers first aid to your arm. His eyes aren't as gentle as Din's, he's not as tall but he is still as imposing. His skin is a warm tan and he has a very faint scar you can make out on his bald head across his forehead. His features are so even and symmetrical. You almost feel like you've seen that handsome face before but can't figure out where.
You're watching him closely, and you just have this urge, you don't know why you do it. You put your uninjured hand on top of his head and pet him, then you have the nerve, "You're so so so nice."
Boba doesn't miss a beat, he finishes making your sling, then he looks right in your eyes, he holds one finger up. What the kriff are you supposed to do with that? You grab it and hold it.
As you hold his finger Boba slowly turns to Din.
"Boss, I think your very charming lady here had her bell rung down there," he releases your hand from his finger.
"Thank you, that helps a lot," you say to Boba as he goes to wait by the door.
"What!? No. I looked you over. Did you hit your head?" his eyes are as big as saucers as he stands in front of you, his pouty bottom lip so pillowy you imagine kissing him. Then you get distracted by his cheekbones and you run your finger down the length of his aquiline nose causing him barely flinch.
"Transport is on the way, I'm going to head back unless you need me to stay. I can have a doctor waiting," Boba offers.
"Thank you for coming, I'll see you back at camp," Din tells Boba.
Boba nods after he puts his helmet on, and adds, "What can I say, I'm very nice."
He really is so nice.
The door closes and it's you and Din now. Din takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. His gloves are off, he's doing that doctor thing again. He's feeling your head with his fingertips and he stops and pushes on a spot.
"Ouchie," You say, as you lean in and put your cheek against his whiskers. "Scratchy, do you always have whiskers or do you sometimes shave every day for one week and then mix it up and have a mustache sometimes because you feel like it and you're handsome and can do whatever you want?" You say as you slide your face off his cheek onto his shoulder.
"While that's actually a very accurate depiction of my shaving habits. You have a concussion. I need you to sit here, don't lay down, I'm going to get you a glass of water," Din says. He starts to stand, guiding you to lean away from him.
You lay down. You're tired.
Din comes back with water, he sighs, "Sit up."
"I'm tired. I'm fine," you say with a yawn.
Din comes over and with great ease, pushes your top half up and shoves a bunch of pillows under you so you're basically sitting up. "I need to watch for our ride and you need to stay awake."
Din hands you the water and starts looking out the window as he asks you, "You said you couldn't feel your fingers but I can tell it hurts."
"I'm fine." You lie, why, you don't know.
"You're not, you have a concussion, you're confused. You got banged up by two huge guys. You were blindsided and I was around the corner like a useless stifling,” Din says with guilt in his voice.
"You're right," You admit. Din turns his head to you, his face sullen. "No, you're right, I'm not okay…", you swallow a lump, "It hurts, and I'm worried my hand won't ever work again and, I hate this shitty apartment, I feel bad that bad shit has happened around me every time we meet, I was scared down there–" you ramble off choking back a sob, covering your eyes with your good arm "–and I still think I helped launder money and…and I'm hungry, and you're not a stifling, you're a karking hero Din, I knew you'd find me."
Din glances out the window, then comes to sit by you, he almost smiles. "The speeder is here, let's get you to see a doctor, who I'm sure will tell you you aren't going to lose your hand. We'll have dinner, you'll be away from the apartment you hate. And–" Din furrows his brow
"–Well, the money laundering thing is out of my area of expertise, but I doubt that's what happened, you don't live in the underworld of Coruscant, despite the fact you were just almost abducted."
"Okay, can you carry my bag?" You say forlornly.
"You think I'm a hero?" Din says after putting his helmet and gloves on as the door closes behind you both.
"You've literally saved my life twice," You are holding his arm as you take the steps down.
"That's true," Din admits with a shrug.
....
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