Auriga Hills: Part One (Javier Peña x f!Reader) (1930′s AU) (ON HIATUS)
Auriga Hills ~ Part One
masterlist / next part
pairing: javier peña (narcos) x f!reader
warnings: rated M for adult language; violence; smoking; allusions to sex
word count: 3.9k
story summary:
Javier Peña- brash, arrogant, a real jerk.
And now he’s your damn husband.
Allured by the prospect of mischief and money, you consent to marry Javier Peña to assist him in his undercover mission for justice. You’re only in it for the fun, nothing more, nothing less. But traveling together in close quarters on a train bound for the West Coast comes with some unexpected ramifications- you’re actually beginning to like the damn idiot.
A 1930’s Enemies to Lovers AU
a/n: Train setting? Check. Enemies to lovers? Check. One bed trope? Check. Fake marriage? Hecc yea! Enjoy!
also found on: Ao3
Auriga Hills
Part One:
You’ve had your fair share of near-death experiences, but this one certainly takes the cake-
-Because you’re actually about to die.
Urg!
You wanted a heroic death, a front-page-newspaper-worthy death! Something along the lines of: “Woman Dies Saving Drowning Child!” or “Woman Throws Self in Front of Gun, Saving Pregnant Mother!”
Damn it, “Woman Strangled in Dark Alley!” doesn’t have nearly the same ring.
You continue whispering curses under your breath, leaping over a crate blocking the entrance to a darkness-draped alleyway. Your feet slip as you bolt forward, fighting for just an ounce of traction against the wet, gravel-coated ground. Eyelashes fluttering against the night air hanging thick with the fog rolling in off of the sea, you squint, spying the eerie, deserted docks in the distance.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
You can already see it- your corpse floating face-down in the water.
Oh, there’s no way in hell you’re running down there! You’re not about to hide somewhere so convenient for your killer.
No, if he’s gunna kill you, he’ll have to work to dispose of your body, thank you very much.
Growling through clenched teeth, you spin on the ball of your foot, cutting around the corner of a brick wall as tightly as you can without stumbling. You groan with relief when your feet finally trade the gravel for solid ground, easily doubling your speed with the added traction.
You strain your ears as you bound in between two buildings, listening for that tell-tell crunch of pursuing footfall.
…
Nothing.
You grin.
Tightening your cap against your head, you do not slow down- not even for one instant. You dare not- not until you get to a- ah! There!
You snicker as you bolt towards the abandoned warehouse towering before you, energy returning to you in droves. The building’s nothing but an empty shell now, long since abandoned by the drifters, such as yourself, who once haunted its interior, so it should be safe enough to settle down and hide within.
Home sweet home, baby.
Grinning, you blast the door wide open, storming inside as the noise reverberates throughout the barren building.
“Geez Louise!” You slide to a stop, panting heavily for air. Slapping both hands down against your knees, you whine at the stab, the sting in your side from the exertion of running.
Hell.
You deserved this.
You deserved to have a close call- to have the pants scared off you. Hell, what a sloppy job! You should be ashamed of yourself- you’re more talented than this!
With a heavy, forlorn sigh, you sink down to the ground, pressing your back up against the metal wall of the warehouse, shivering against the chill.
“Damn,” you groan, reaching into your coat to pull out the object responsible for all this bloody trouble.
Your wallet.
Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly your wallet…
It’s a…. borrowed wallet…
Borrowed from someone else’s pocket, that is.
You stare at the worn leather, letting your thumb trace the maker’s mark.
Well, what can you say?
You need the cash more than the man you pickpocketed this from, that’s for certain. He’ll get over it… eventually… If he ever stops searching for you, that is.
Your grin only widens.
With a snort, you paw it open and begin fumbling through the wads of….
…Hundred-dollar bills?
Your eyes blast open.
“Jumpin’ Jahosafat!” you hiss through your teeth, fingers tightening around the wallet. You-you can’t believe your luck!
“Bloody hell!” you gasp, shuffling through the bills, holding them up in the air to get a better look. This-this can’t be real! How many grand is this?
You throw your head back, your sharp bark of laughter bouncing off the thin, metal walls. “Ooooh-boy! Oh, that man wants to murder me right about now, absolutely murder me.” Oh, you wish you could see his face right about now!
Fighting against a fit of giggles bubbling up your throat, you pull out an identification card from the wallet, eager to discover the name and face of the man who’s, no doubt, off somewhere spitting every curse word under the sun at you.
You squint your eyes, attempting to read the card in the dark.
“Javier… Peña…” You pull the identification card further away from your face, trying to angle it just right in the moonlight so you could make out his image.
Two dark, soulful eyes and a moustache glare back at you.
“He looks like a damn grump.” Your grin falls into a frown at the judgement in his frozen stare. You toss the card off to the side. “Glad I stole from him.”
You reach back into the wallet, pulling out-
“Oh!”
Oh….?
Another card? And another… Another… Hell! How many….? All with different names, and-
Your eyes stretch, your stomach squeezes…
An… an ordinary citizen would never have this many… If- if he’s part of the mafia, or a copper, or…or…
Oh shit.
No, no, you’re washing your hands of this- immediately.
You cram the cards back into the wallet, removing the cash and stuffing it in your coat pocket.
“Nope, nope!” you grumble, leaping up to your feet. You spin around, not exactly sure what it is you’re looking for, but- ah, there! An open window, right above your head! And that side of the warehouse boarders the water- perfect!
You hurl your arm back, eager to rid yourself of-
“Throw that and see what happens.”
…oh shit.
You’re dead.
“Turn around.” The voice lowers. “Slowly.”
…
Rage.
Rage edged in his tone.
Oh, hell.
Oh hell!
Your blood pulses, throbs in your ear. How- how do you get out of this?
You’re going to die you’re going to die you’re going to die.
Shit, shit, shit!
You raise both trembling hands. “Sir- I… There’s been a- a, uh, misunderstanding-” You slowly twist, meeting the two dark orbs of-
Javier Peña.
Or John Buckley.
Or Fred Matthews.
Or- or whatever his real name is.
You blink, refusing to drop his gaze, swallowing back the fear gurgling in the pit of your stomach.
Both of his hands rest calmly on his waist, but there’s nothing calm in his expression. His eyes flash at you, furor radiating off of him in waves.
“Five words.”
His voice is deep, raspy- made all the more terrifying when paired with the searing I’m-going-to-kill-you glare. He rolls his shoulders forward, taking on the presence of an even larger man.
“Give me-” he takes a step forward, his shadow crawling across your face- “my damn wallet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lower your brows. “And get the hell out of my house!”
He quirks his brow, watching you with a deepening expression.
Damn it, what are you doing?
“Stop playing games with me, mujer.” Something… dark edges in his tone. He raises a finger, pointing at your hand. “It’s in your fist.”
Your eyes lower.
“Ah, oh my! Thought this was mine!” You toss him a cheeky grin. “No harm done?”
You don’t wait for an answer.
You spin around.
The window.
Arm back- aim-
“Ack!” you squeal, throwing all of your weight at the ground. “Let go of me, you creep!” You thrust out your feet, aiming over and over and over for his shins, but missing each time.
His grip on your wrist is painful, unforgiving, holding you partially up off the floor.
“You little shit,” he growls, plucking the wallet from your grasp. He frees your wrist, letting you flop back against the floor with a hard oof.
Groaning, you scramble away from him, stumbling up to your feet. “Fuck you!” you shout, launching towards the door.
So close-
A hand slaps on your shoulder- heaves you backwards. “Yipes!” you yelp, stumbling to the ground at the sudden reversal of momentum.
You throw out an elbow, but it lands nowhere.
You squirm- kick-
But then-
Two large hands press your shoulders against the ground-
-you’re pinned.
“Stop fighting,” he hisses in your ear, breath hot against your skin- a faint hint of cigarettes. “And stop yelling.” He reaches down, digging through your coat pockets.
“Why?” you growl, wriggling beneath his weight. “S-so you can kill me without any w-witnesses?”
He doesn’t answer.
You blink.
Oh… not… good.
“W-wait- sir!”
He pulls back, flashing you the wad of cash. “A misunderstanding?”
“Give me that!” you hiss, raising up off the floor. “I need it more than you!” You throw out a hand, but he swiftly pulls it away, tucking the cash within his coat.
He’s up on his feet and stalking away before you can barely think.
“I saw all those cards, Mr. Peña!”
He freezes.
"Give me a hundred, and I’ll… uh, forget what I saw.”
He turns, faces you- but it’s not anger that’s etched on his face.
Amusement.
At you.
He grunts, reaches into his coat-
Your eyes blast open. “Don’t shoot!” You throw your hands in front of you, stumbling back a few steps.
“Relax.” His voice is buttery smooth- almost mocking. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it as he watches you, the layer of sweat on his face reflecting against the moonlight.
He puffs on the cigarette, silent.
Staring at you.
Wet curls plastered against his brow.
You raise your chin defiantly. “Don’t think I won’t-”
“As if anyone would listen to a thief.”
You blink.
A small smirk quirks up in the corner of his mouth. He takes another puff of his cigarette, dabbing the ashes off to the side.
“Go home-” he takes a puff of his cigarette- “kid.”
“I told you-” you take a step forward, red flashing in the corner of your vision- “you’re in my home.”
“Here?” His voice deepens, and he throws a glance up, eyeing the hole in the roof of the warehouse.
“Yeah,” you growl through gritted teeth. You cross your arms tightly across your chest. “Don’t pretend you care. You don’t care- care if I’m hungry or cold tonight!” You throw your hand out towards the door. “Just take your money and get the hell away from me.”
The amusement slips from his face, the irritable expression from his identification card swiftly replacing it.
“Goodnight then-” he tosses his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his heel- “And careful-” his voice lowers, deep, raspy- “who you steal from next.”
You watch as he slips out the door, stalking beneath the shadows of the buildings lining the docks.
And then-
He’s gone.
Along with the cash-
-Your chance at a new start in life.
Rage explodes behind your eyes.
“ARG!”
You kick at the side of the building, cringing against the jolt of pain that shoots up your leg.
“Damn you, Javier Peña!” you scream into the dark. “And damn your stupid mustache!”
You really hope he heard you.
-------
It was a bad idea to stay in the warehouse for the night. Damn, you forgot how cold it could get by the sea. You can’t stop shivering.
With a pathetic groan, you sit up, eyeing the moon through the window, trying your best to assess what time it could be.
You raise a brow. Maybe… Four o’clock? Five o’clock?
You sigh.
Fine. Whatever.
Guess you’re up for the day.
Leaning down, you dust off your baggy pants, lamenting your current status. Maybe it’s time to jump another train… try a new location.
Tucking your hands in your pockets, you sneer over at the cigarette on the ground, trying to avoid thinking about…. him.
Hell! If it wasn’t for… him, you- you could have used that cash to have a bed tonight- warm food! A… a hot bath!
You groan pathetically, inching the door open. “Oh, curse my bad luck,” you grumble, flopping your head back as you stumble out into the chilly sea breeze. You wish you never held that cash at all if you couldn’t keep it for yourself.
It was all just a cruel joke.
But then again… it was kind of your fault for stealing it to begin with…
Oh, no matter.
Soon, you’ll find a way to get back on your feet. This is all just temp-
“Good morning, Mujer.”
“Yipes!” You all but jump off the dock and into the water. “Wha- oh, you!” Gritting your teeth, you all but growl at him like a feral dog. “What the hell do you want?” Tapping your foot rapidly against the dock, you throw both hands on your hips.
He leans up against the wall of the warehouse, taking another puff of his cigarette. He glances up at the setting moon, utterly unbothered by your anger.
“I have a… proposition for you.” His voice is low, still and calm.
“…What’s this proposition, Mustache?”
“Call me that again-” his voice drops- “and you’re taking a swim.”
You’re almost tempted to test him… almost.
Rolling your eyes, you saunter a few feet closer to him. “What. Do. You. Want?”
His eyes darken- piercing into your own. His raspy voice is all but a hoarse whisper-
“I want you to marry me.”
Silence.
…
You burst into laughter. “Oh- hell! G-good one!” Reaching out, you give him a slap on the arm. “Damn, I’m-”
“One grand, for your trouble.” He takes a puff of his cigarette, his dark gaze holding your own. “And a quick annulment when we get to the West Coast.”
You blink.
“Wait… you’re serious? Actually… serious?”
“I don’t joke, hermosa.” He shifts forward, passing you by as he steps to the edge of the dock. “I’ve… run into a complication.”
Your eyes widen. “Oh, wait a minute, are you a cop?” You run forward to stand beside him, staring up at his face. “A mobster? What exactly am I getting into here?”
He tilts his head, glancing down at your gaping mouth.
“You don’t need to know.”
“Like hell I don’t! I’m getting the hell out of here!”
“Hold on-”
You stare down at his hand clutching your wrist. “Fifteen hundred.” His eyes shift away from your face, his voice… tightening. “I… work for the government, hermosa. That’s all you need to know. My partner… she fell through.”
“You better not tell me she got bumped off, I swear I will-”
"The California Express train leaves today, and I must be on it, with a wife. I’m… out of options.”
Ripping your arm back, you furrow your brows at him. “Then, be on it? I don’t want the money- you’re insane. You don’t need a wife; you need a doctor.”
Spinning around, you begin to rush down the dock.
No amount of money is worth-
“Two grand.”
Freeze.
Slowly, carefully, you turn back around, watching with wide eyes as he saunters towards you.
“Two grand.” He tilts his head. “Two grand. This is…. important, Hermosa.”
“Two… grand?” you whisper, eyes widening. “Jumping Jahosafat, it must be important…”
Tossing the cigarette into the water, he steps right up beside you, hovering over your face.
"Very.”
A small smile tickles the corner of your mouth.
“Three grand.”
“No.”
“Then bye.”
“Wait-”
He growls, rubbing his eyes. “Fine, three grand.”
“And an annulment? Once the train arrives in California?”
He releases a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
Slowly, a grin inches its way across your face.
“Well, Javi-” you slap him against his shoulder- “you just bought yourself a wife.”
His frown only deepens.
“Let’s get one thing clear-” his fingers dig into your upper arm, pulling you into him. “If you break my cover or once- even once- ignore my any of my orders, I will not hesitate to throw you off a moving train.” His voice is cold, hard. You believe his every word. “Are we clear?”
You only sweeten your smile.
“Javi, dear-”
“Don’t call me Javi.”
“Let me make one thing clear-” you stand up on your tiptoes, resting your arm atop his shoulder- “If you touch me- even once- I’ll lob your head off.” You wink. “Are we clear?”
He has the audacity to return your smile.
“Indeed.”
It hits you at once- three grand.
Three grand! You- you can’t believe it! Three grand! And a free trip to California? You- you can maybe open that bakery! Just like Mother’s!
You clasp your hands together, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Damn, three grand!”
"Calm down,” he grumbles, lowering his brow. “We don’t have much time. You’ll need some clothes, I imagine, before we go to the courthouse.”
“Clothes?”
“You can’t wear that-” he motions at your baggy pants and much-too-large coat- “on the California Express.”
“Fine, guess we’re going shopping?”
“You need a bath before I’m taking you in anywhere,” he grumbles under his breath, spinning around on his heel as he stalks away.
“Hey!” you yelp, jogging up behind him. “Excuse me, sir. What exactly are you trying to insinuate?”
“You stink.”
“Of all the nerve!” You stumble over your feet trying to keep pace with his strides. “I’m- I’m not bathing in your hotel room, you peeping tom!”
He stops- you run straight into his back.
“Oof, Javi!”
“We’re going to be married, sharing a train compartment-” he angles his head to the side- “and you’re worried about this?”
Silence.
He has a point.
…Not that you’re going to admit that.
“Javi, I will not, you mustached bastard- what- wait! What are you doing? JAVI!”
He swings you forward- and you flail- off the dock-
-straight into the water below.
“J-Javi!” you shriek, splashing the water around you as you fight to stay afloat.
“You can bathe down there,” he grumbles, amusement lacing his tone, “or you can bathe in my hotel room. Your choice.”
“I- I hate you!”
He has the nerve to grin at you.
-------
You stare at yourself in the mirror.
Hell, you make a real lady. A grin stretches across your face, and you adjust the hat on your head until it’s angled just right.
Yup. A real lady.
Heh.
No one would know the truth.
You gasp at loud rapping on the bathroom door.
“Out. Now,” Javier barks.
“Fine! Fine!” you grumble, gathering up the last of your newly purchased items into your bag.
“Now, Hermosa.”
Flinging the door wide open, you come nose-to-nose with one angry, glaring Javier.
“Javi,” you bark, “Is this any way to treat your soon-to-be wife?” You smirk, spinning around to show off the dress you chose to wear to the courthouse. “How do I look?”
He just… stares at you, eyes darkening as they sweep down your figure. Taking a languid puff of his cigarette, he angles his head to the side.
“Not my type.”
You huff, sneering up at him. “Well, good! You’re ugly too!” You cross your arms tightly across your chest, scowl deepening. “Let’s get our marriage the hell over with.”
A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s go, Hermosa.”
-------
“What a handsome couple!”
“Who? Us?” You raise an eyebrow at the old woman, a court-assigned witness to your vows. “I mean, I think I’m handsome, but Javi?” You sneak a glance over at him, his back facing you, still engrossed in a conversation with the Judge.
You raise an eyebrow. “I mean, he has a nice ass, I guess.”
“W-what?”
“Nothing!”
“Let’s begin, shall we!”
You turn to find the Judge and Javier both watching you- the Judge beaming ear-to-ear.
With a visible exhale of air, Javier lumbers forward, a neutral- almost bored- expression etched on his face. Reaching out, he takes your hand in his.
“Remember my rule,” you hiss under your breath, “when we’re on that train, keep your paws off of me.”
He tilts his head to the side, lowering his brows at you.
“Do not worry yourself.” He pulls you in closer to whisper in your ear, “I only go for handsome women.”
“Fuck you!” you shriek.
…
The Judge and old woman gape at you.
“Uh, um…”
“That’s how she says, ‘I love you,’” Javier mumbles. “Precious, isn’t it?”
The Judge blinks.
…
“…Dearly beloved, we have gathered here-”
“Just the vows.” Javier tightens his grip on your hand. “We’re in a hurry.”
The Judge’s eyes widen further, and he sneaks a glance over at the old lady-
-She has a hand pressed against her mouth.
“….Right. That’s fine. Uh… read the vows aloud then, and we’ll… finish this up.”
The Judge motions at Javier to begin.
"I, Javier Peña,” he rasps, his voice tightening with each word spoken, “take thee to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish-” his hand tightens around your own- “till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge myself to you."
He drops his eyes to the ground- almost… shamefully.
The Judge, still very much perplexed by you both, turns his attention now to you.
Oh.
Damn.
This… is really happening.
…What on Earth are you doing?
"I,” you squeak, barely audible even to your own self, “take thee to be my wedded… husband, to have and to h-hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for… richer, for poorer, in- in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish-” you pause, swallowing back your anxiety. You sneak a glance up into Javier’s eyes- immediately regretting it.
He’s… staring at you.
Just remember- this is for three grand- a new beginning.
This isn’t real-
It… will be annulled.
“Till… death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge myself to… you."
You drop both Javi’s burning gaze and hand as soon as the last word drops from your lips.
“I pronounce you husband and wife!” the Judge chirps. “You may kiss the bride.”
You blink-
Kiss?
You forgot about-
Javier’s lips press gently against your own- he pulls away before you even have a chance to react.
He… kissed you.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Peña!” the old woman smiles, clapping her hands.
Mrs. Peña…
Mr. and Mrs. Peña.
Married…
You’re married.
To Mr. Peña.
…To an idiot.
You- you refuse to look at him.
You… think you’re gunna be sick.
What have you gotten yourself into?
"Enjoy your honeymoon!” the old woman whispers, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek. “Have fun, Mrs. Peña.” She winks.
You crinkle your nose, deciding to have a bit of fun with her- distract yourself from your current mental crisis.
“Oh, no. You think I’d want him touching me?”
…
You grin at the perplexed old woman.
“Thanks for everything, lady!” you giggle.
A large, warm hand encircles your own.
“Come, Hermosa.” Javier’s voice is low, tense. “We cannot miss our train.”
You glance up, meeting the eyes of your husband.
Dark.
Hard.
Unreadable.
He brushes a quick finger along your jawline.
You can only nod.
“Let’s go.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
masterlist / next part
taglist: (in the reblog)
a/n: Ahhhh!!! I’ve been working on this one since early December! I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a nice change of pace from In Fields of White (of which chapter 9 is coming late this week!) PLEASE comment/reblog letting me know what you think! I spent a really long time on this, lol! (Shameless begging, I know.) Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check it out on Ao3 as well!
In Fields of White ~ Chapter Nine ~ “That’s My Girl”
masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter
pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader
warnings: rated M for language; smoking; violence; mild descriptions of wounds; mild sexual themes; angst
word count: 14.4k
chapter summary: heartbroken and grief-stricken, you do everything within your power to stay hidden away from danger… and din djarin. but when plans go horrifically awry, you have no choice but to face down a ghost from your past.
story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.
a/n: @sana-katarn suffered and nearly died for this chapter. give her a follow as a thank you from me. (though she’ll also happily accept pictures of cassian andor in her inbox instead.)
also found on: Ao3
In Fields of White
Chapter Nine: “That’s My Girl”
“Mando can’t kill us if he can’t find us.”
“Pablo,” Cara snaps. “We can’t just-”
“It’s not our fault the Mandalorian’s ‘girlfriend’ ran away.” Pablo scoots forward, a scowl etched deep on his face. “But he’s going to shoot us when he finds out-”
“Shoot you, maybe.”
“Pardon? If memory serves me-” Pablo waves a hydro-spanner at her- “we were both left to look after Mando’s precious little sunstar.”
“Get that thing out of my face.” Cara swats at the hydro-spanner, ignoring Pablo’s curse as it flies through the air.
Maker. She can’t believe she’s been stuck alone with Pablo for three whole days. The man is-
“Hey!”
Cara twists, watching as Peli stomps around the side of the Razor Crest, barely visible even with the moonlight.
“I can hear everything you’re saying! You’re not about to run away-” Peli juts a thumb at her chest- “leaving me with the fallout!”
“Oh, come on, Ms. Peli.” Pablo flashes her a cheeky grin. “You have 4PO to protect yourself, right?”
“4PO!”
-Crash.
“Oh, Maker’s mercy!”
“4PO! Get off the ground, for land’s sake!” Peli growls. “Pick yourself up!”
<my existence is but an illusion>
…
“Oh, kriffin’ hell.”
…
“Well…. Anyway… you can’t expect me to handle an angry Mandalorian all by myself!” Peli squawks, shoving at Pablo’s shoulder. “I swear, I’ll have my droids strip every last-”
“We aren’t leaving.” Cara shoots Pablo a pointed look.
He throws his hands in the air, avoiding meeting both their eyes.
“I’m watching you,” Peli grumbles, jabbing a finger at Pablo as she walks away. “4PO! I swear- get UP!”
Releasing a pained sigh, Cara begins going through the motions of loading and unloading her weapon, a distraction against the apprehension, the concern for you beginning to weigh heavy in her chest.
Sure, you might be impulsive, reckless even, but Cara knows you aren’t stupid- far from it, in fact.
…
But damn it if you aren’t being stupid right now.
Just… up and running away? No goodbyes? With bounty hunters- Mandalorian bounty hunters- trailing after you?
…
You won’t last long, and Cara knows it.
And you had to know it too.
“Such, a rash, senseless move. We could have helped her,” Cara mutters, rubbing her brow. “I just… why did she up and leave like that? She’s going to get caught within days.”
Pablo stops spinning the hydro-spanner long enough to chuckle. “So-” he quirks his brow- “you have no faith in that bewildering brain of hers?”
…
“No.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Cara slaps hand against her thigh. “Blast! I just wish Din would get his ass back into town… Maybe I should take out a bike, search for him in Mos Pelgo.”
After all, every day that goes by… Maker, you’ll be only that much more impossible to track. And while Cara respects your independence- your freedom to choose to play the part of the sacrificial hero, in turn sparing your friends from further threat, she also knows-
Din’s… not going to take this well.
“If we couldn’t find any trace of her after three days of searching-” Pablo leans forward, resting his forearms against his thighs- “what makes you think he’ll have better luck?”
Silence.
“Pablo-”
“Oh, I know, I know. He’s an ‘elite bounty hunter,’” he mocks. “Deadly, efficient, blah, blah, blah.” He leans back with a sigh, stretching out across the crate.
“And you ought to know it.” Cara bites back a smirk.
Does she really want to get him going…?
…
Yes.
“After all, Pablo, you’re personally well acquainted with the Mandalorian’s hunting techniques.”
He shoots straight up. “I almost got away from him!” he snaps. “If it wasn’t for that Carbonite, I would have-”
“-Oh, here we go…” Cara chuckles, covering both eyes with a hand. All too easy.
“It’s true!” he barks, throwing both hands in the air. “If Mando hadn’t flung me into the freezing bay, sealing me within that cold, dark, terrifying… tomb of, uh…um… C-carbonite...”
Silence.
“Hell, Cara!” Eyes blasting wide open, Pablo leaps to his feet. “I’m getting the kark outta here!”
“Hold up.” Cara’s hand lashes out, grabbing a fistful of Pablo’s shirt and yanking him back. “Just you calm down- I’ll keep you safe, Babycakes.”
He huffs. “The hell?... Babycakes?” Stuffing both hands in his pockets, he faces away from her. “Uh, love you too, I guess? ... Um, anyway- I still don’t know how he’ll track her if she’s already left the system.”
“This is why you’re the scheming con artist,” Cara sighs, shifting forward to stand, “and he’s the bounty hunter.”
“I prefer the title ‘opportunistic entrepreneur.’”
“Charlatan, swindler, cheat-”
“Now kriffin’ look here-”
“HE’S BACK!” Peli yelps somewhere in the distance.
Cara’s heart squeezes.
Din.
Thank the Maker!
A wave of relief washes over Cara… immediately replaced by a tidal wave of dread. Cara knows he’s probably going to ask for you right away-
Shit.
“Cara!” Pablo hisses, rushing to stand beside her. “What’s the plan? Plan, Cara?!” He twists his eyes to stare out across the hanger. “Do we have a plan? What do we say?”
“Stay calm and shut up!” Cara jumps up, foisting Pablo back down into his seat, ignoring his yelp of protest. “I’ll tell him.”
“Just remember-” he lifts his finger, a brow quirking up- “I’m Babycakes. Don’t let him hurt me.”
“Oh, Maker,” she groans, burying her face in the palms of her hands.
“QUICK!” Peli screeches, dashing around the back of the Crest, flapping her arms in the air. “Act natural! SHOO, go away, droids! Maker, can’t you see we’re in a crisis right now? I swear!”
Peli slams rear-first into a chair, the seat shooting back a few feet against the momentum of the action. Pablo, equally as jumpy, begins fiddling with the random pieces of mechanical junk surrounding him.
“Oh, stars, you both look so suspicious- uh, Mando!”
There he is.
The Mandalorian is frozen beside the Razor Crest, the soft moonlight casting a hazy glow against his Beskar armor. Resting across his back, a bar strung up with gear and supplies weighs his shoulders down low.
He doesn’t move. He just… stares, angles his head to the side.
Oh, great. Just great.
He had to of heard all the yelling- he knows something’s wrong.
“Din?” Cara rises to her feet. “What- why are you carrying all of that? Here, let me-”
“No.”
The curt reply slaps her hands back.
“Well, someone had a lousy trip,” she mutters as she moves to sit back down. Even with her fatigued sigh, she’s unable to keep a slight smile from slipping onto her face at sight of the baby- only the tips of his ears visible from satchel resting against his father’s side.
The Mandalorian lumbers forward, each step slow, weighted, the clank-clank of his Beskar and blaster-casings the only noise reverberating throughout the hanger.
“…Sorry,” he mumbles, barely audible through his helm’s vocoder. Ducking his head away from Cara, he gently lowers his gear, resting it down against the hanger floor. “It’s… been a long couple of days.”
Even with the burden of his gear now lifted from him, his shoulders remain slumped forward, exhaustion, weariness tattooed on every square inch of his frame. The stance is completely unlike the ordinarily deft, foreboding Mandalorian- abnormal enough for concern to take root in Cara’s mind.
“What happened to you?” she snorts, raising an eyebrow at his languid, fatigued walk forward. “What- hell, Din, what’s that… green goop all over your armor?”
He doesn’t answer- just dips his gloves into the satchel wrapped around his torso, hauling out the sleepy-eyed, listless child. Peli- without waiting for permission- takes the baby from his hands, tucking him against her chest.
“You have a lot to learn about raising a young’un,” Peli grumbles, stroking a finger across the child’s left ear. “He’s too young to be dragged half-way cross the desert on some- some fool’s errand.” She glares at him with the word “fool.”
Din reaches a gloved hand out, his hand cradling the side of his son’s face.
“I know.”
Cara lowers her brows, concern and anxiety for you squeezing in her chest again, only building with every moment that passes.
“Oh, lookie here! He brought meat!” Peli interrupts Cara’s fretting, lifting up a corner of burlap with her free hand to peer beneath it. “DROIDS! Pull out that- no, stop! We’ve gotta cook- no!”
Cara smiles wearily as Peli bounces away, shouting demands at her droids. But Din stands still, unmoving, visor trained on the ground beneath his feet.
“Well, damn, man-” Pablo reaches down into his shirt pocket, pulling out a cigarra. “You look beat to hell.” He reaches up, lighting the cigarra. Pulling it away from his lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Oh, oh shit, what is all that green stuff?”
“Krayt Dragon stomach acid.”
…
“Kriff, man. Well… I guess that’d do it.”
The Mandalorian bends his knees, sitting down with a pained grunt. He sighs, deep, heavy, his head tilting forward to stare at the dirt.
“Sounds like a party.” A smile quirks on Cara’s lips. “Should have invited us.”
He grunts.
“On the way back, a group of mercs tripped my bike.” Leaning forward on his thighs, he glances back up. “Destroyed it. Had to walk.”
“Kark, they are after the chip again?” Cara growls, clenching her fists. “Just great. How’d they even find you?”
“I don’t know.” The Mandalorian shakes his head, his voice slowing with every word. “I… eliminated them before they could be questioned.”
“Damn!”
…
“Hey, so just to clarify, that’s dragon meat and not merc meat, right?”
“Pablo-”
“Just making sure!”
“Well, this little one would eat either!” Peli snorts, walking up the child, who’s beginning to fuss and whine in her arms. He pushes against her chest, motioning to be let down. “Alright, alright.” Peli coos, setting the child back down on the ground.
The child bolts straight for Din, a long, high-pitched whine erupting from his tiny frame. The Mandalorian obliges him, hauling him up into his lap.
“He’s been-” he pauses, staring down at the child in his lap- “…irritable since we left.”
The Mandalorian begins shifting side to side, almost nervously, in his seat. Setting the child against his hip, he leans forward with a grunt and stands.
“I-” the Mandalorian rasps, stealing a quick glance over at the open ramp of the Razor Crest. With a small groan, so small that Cara almost missed it, he tears his visor away from the starship. “I think he’s been missing… the girl.”
He turns.
“I… he misses the sound of her voice… her… laugh.”
…
“Uh oh,” Pablo mumbles under his breath, shoving the cigarra back in his mouth and turning his body away. At the same moment, Peli- taking Din’s words as her call to action- rips the child out of his arms, muttering under her breath to him as she practically flees from the scene.
The Mandalorian stares at the Razor Crest, oblivious to everyone’s discomfort.
“Is she inside?”
His tone is soft, affectionate…. Damn, there’s… just no easy way to do this.
“Mando-”
One word gives it away.
…
“Where is she?”
…
“Where’s the girl?”
“Din, it’s-”
“Now.”
Din isn’t speaking.
This is the Mandalorian.
“She’s… gone.”
“What do you mean-” his voice tightens- “she’s gone?”
“She ran away, man.” Pablo pulls the cigarra from his lips. “Lost to the force.”
“Pablo!” Cara barks. “Stick a sock in it.”
“We-” the Mandalorian drops to his seat- the word barely a whisper- “…we had words, argued, but-” He leans forward, visor piercing, burning the ground.
“Tell me what happened.”
His voice is hard- the affection, any hint of weariness, stripped from his words.
“I think she thinks she’s protecting us,” Cara sighs. “…From bounty hunters.”
The Mandalorian shakes his head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. We’re both involved with the Taek-”
“The same day you left for Mos Pelgo, she had a conversation with Karga.” Cara stands, frown deepening on her face. “He told her that three bounty hunters had approached him on Navarro, asking for information… about her- not concerning the events on Taek. About something else entirely. She thanked Karga; told him she would take care of it. And then she just- slipped away without a word to us.”
The Mandalorian just stares- stares straight ahead as if Cara had never spoken a word.
“…Din?”
“Shit…” he breathes, clenching his hand into a fist. “Shit.”
“Din?”
-slam-
“-Kark, man!”
Din lifts his fist from the crate, ignoring the crack he left behind. “We have to find her.” He shoots up. “We have to find her first.”
A noise- Pablo clearing his throat.
“Cara forgot to mention something.” He takes a puff of his cigarra, disregarding Cara’s warning glare. “The hunters searching for Sweetheart are Mandalorian.”
…
“Damn it,” Din hisses- a sharp rasp of breath through his modulator.
“Well,” Cara grumbles under her breath, looking down to tighten the holster against her thigh. “What’s the plan-”
“Connections,” Din snaps. He spins around, stalking straight for the Razor Crest. “We’ll track down her connections on Tatooine.”
“How do we do that?” Cara sprints to catch up, their footsteps clanking against the metal ramp of the ship. “We don’t know a thing about her, not even the name she went by here.”
The Mandalorian does not speak- does not answer. He merely reaches forward- slams his hand against the control panel for the ship’s Holonet display.
“Din?” Cara prods.
“‘Damn best racer.’”
She lifts a brow. “Pardon?”
“‘Damn best racer,’” he repeats, typing orders into the system. “A speeder bike race-” he lifts his helmet, the words from the Holonet display reflecting off of his visor- “she won one. On Tatooine. Years ago.”
“Ah,” Cara nods her head, beginning to catch on. “Find the race, and you find her connections, her sponsors. Sponsors she might have recently contacted for help.”
Din doesn’t respond, completely engrossed with the display before him.
“Hey.” Resting a light hand atop his vambrace, Cara forces her voice to soften. “You know, if you do find her, you can’t… force her to stay under your protection-” she pulls her hand back- “if she doesn’t want to.”
…
“…I know.”
He stops- stops typing- dips the edge of his helmet against his chest.
“I just… want to talk. Make sure she has a plan… Credits.”
He resumes typing, punching demands into the Holonet.
“…Make sure she’s… safe.”
With a heavy sigh, Cara stares into Din’s blank, unreadable visor.
Unreadable, yes. But that didn’t matter.
The frantic clank-clank-clank of fingertips pounding against search keys told her everything she needed to know.
-------------------------------
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
The Mandalorian doesn’t react to Cara’s grumble- just keeps his head pointed forward. But the curl of his gloves; the clench of fingers against his holster told her-
-He agrees.
A flash of sunlight grabs at her attention, drawing her eyes to stare at the gleaming marble walls- a stark comparison to the dry, arid sands of Tatooine rolling just outside the building’s walls. And she ought to know- they just spent the last blasted hour traveling through a relentless sandstorm to reach the compound’s gates.
“Hey,” she calls, attempting to catch the guard’s attention. “Where exactly are you tak- oh!”
Two double doors burst open- revealing an enormous, palatial… dining room?
If you could even call it that.
Art museum might would be a better descriptor.
“Ah, it’s true- a Mandalorian!” booms a voice that practically shakes the ornate chandeliers hanging from the rafters.
“Now, I knew you couldn’t all be dead.” The voice, a Cathar, stands up from his chair at the head of the table. He shoots his fur-covered hand out to the side, his embroidered sleeve swaying as he beckons them forward. “After all, if you were all dead, you actually made terrible warriors, you know?”
Cara glances at the Mandalorian-
Uh oh.
Shoulders tight- fists clenched against his thighs- he steps forward-
“-Aric Thall!” Cara barks.
“Ah, so you’ve heard of me!” Thall bares his fangs in a… smile? “This should be interesting. Please, sit. Join me in my dinn-”
“We’re here on business, Thall.”
The air stills.
…
The Cathar sinks back into his chair.
“Ah,” he sighs. “So, you’re here on… business. Disappointing. Well, you’re not here to collect me, I hope?” the Cathar grumbles, glancing over at his guards. They stand with weapons drawn- ready to take the threat- Din- head on at Thall’s first order.
He flashes another fang-filled grin. “I’m innocent, I swear. My cousin’s the dirty one.” He flops back and sighs, letting both his arms hang off the side of the chair.
Cara rolls her eyes. “Oh, kriffin-”
“I’m here for information.”
The Mandalorian’s tone is hard- grit and warning dripping from each of his words.
“…About what?”
“A race,” the Mandalorian snaps, taking a broad step forward.
“Oh, be specific- I’ve held thousands!” Thall flips like a switch, his persona flooded once again with jubilancy and charm. “But you have certainly piqued my interest.” He holds out a hand. “Please, continue, Mandalorian.”
Your Tatooine name- the one discovered after hours of careful research- drops from the Mandalorian’s vocoder.
“Oh. Oh,” Thall groans, squeezing both eyes shut. “Oh, don’t remind me! Wild little thing-” he presses against his temples- “she left me holding the bag with the Hutts when she disappeared after winning the Boska Springs Classic. Valen’s doing- no doubt. Her grandfather had no imagination.” Thall opens his eyes with a sigh. “When she wasn’t racing, she was giving me a headache.” He leans forward to take a sip from his glass, wiping his mouth with a napkin before continuing.
“Still, so much wasted potential,” he sighs, staring at the glass in his hand. “The girl was karking nuts. The only racer batshit crazy enough to cut a route through a Rancor’s den as a shortcut.”
Cara can’t help but smile.
Well, hell yeah, kid.
Her eyes drift up to Din, who’s now standing a few feet in front of her. Both of his hands are latched on his belt- his shoulders rising ever-so-slightly in… pride? Respect?
Perhaps both.
“You’ve not been in contact with her recently.”
The Mandalorian states it as a fact, his tone even, indifferent. But she- his friend- heard the disappointment layered in between his words.
“I didn’t say that,” the Cathar purrs, folding his fingers together.
“…Has she been in contact?” The Mandalorian slowly, carefully stalks closer. “Answer me.”
Thall chuckles.
“Depends on why you’re asking, Mandalorian.”
Silence.
“Or more importantly-” the Cathar stands, strolling forward, pausing in front of the Mandalorian- “what are you willing to give in return for my information?”
Cara can’t help but notice Thall’s eyes… drift across the Mandalorian’s Beskar.
“I’m not making any deals-” Din steps forward, closing the distance between him and the Cathar- “until you answer my question.”
“Fine. Fair enough,” Thall sighs, folding his arms behind his back. “She was here not that long ago, looking to reconnect with some of her old friends.”
“Where-”
“She’ll have left the planet by now.”
…
The Mandalorian’s shoulders tighten.
“But-” the Cathar throws out a hand dismissively- “I know how you can find her.” He grins and takes a step back. “My question is, again, what are you willing to give up in order to find that information out?”
…
“How much do you want?”
The Mandalorian’s words- dry, hoarse- linger in the air.
“Your Beskar-”
“-is not up for trade.”
“Ah! Fine- I have a… much more profitable proposal to offer you. Profitable for me, at least.” Throwing his head back, Thall grins at the ceiling- chuckles.
Oh, Dank Ferrik.
Cara knew she had a bad feeling about this.
“We’ve had a bit of a-” Thall spins his hand around- “let’s say, entertainment drought since the fall of Hutt control. We’re desperate for a good show- good excitement. A reason for a little friendly… betting amongst friends.”
“How does this concern me?”
Din’s patience is wearing thin.
“How does it concern you, Mandalorian?” Thall chuckles. “Well, you’re walking, talking entertainment!”
…
Dank Ferrik. He couldn’t mean-
“I don’t want your credits, Mandalorian; I want everyone else’s credits!” Thall holds up three fingers. “Three fights, starring you, my friend, as primary challenger. I intend to make a small fortune off ticket sales, and the betting?” Low whistle. “Credits galore!”
The Mandalorian tilts his head- staring straight at the Cathar- silent, unmoving.
“You’ll never find her,” Thall says through a clenched smile, “without me.”
“Mando.” Cara steps up right behind him, keeping her voice low. “I don’t think this is a good idea. He’s leading you on. He doesn’t know anything.”
“If he does?” The Mandalorian pauses, angling his head back. “…I’ll take that risk.”
He turns away.
“Do you agree then, Mandalorian?” The Cathar grins, already sensing his answer. “You’ll fight?”
…
“…I’ll fight.”
“Fantastic! I will jus-”
“But just know, if you don’t follow through-” the Mandalorian slowly, deliberately places a hand against his belt- “the last thing you’ll remember is regret for this moment.”
Thall slaps a hand on the Mandalorian’s back, grinning as if Mando hadn’t just threatened to kill him. “Understandable position!... Then let’s lay the rules out…”
Cara grits her teeth.
Oh, here it comes…
“You win two of three fights… and you get the information you seek.”
The Mandalorian turns his helmet, glaring at Thall.
“But you lose two of three fights… or die-” he smiles- “and I keep your Beskar... These are the conditions- I will not budge.”
The Mandalorian huffs.
“… I don’t plan on losing.”
------------------------------
You’re about to commit a murder.
“Curse me out one more time-” you bare your teeth at the Ortolan- “and I’ll stomp you into oblivion.”
The Ortolan just… screams.
“Fine! Fine!” you grumble, taking a step to the side. “Look, I’ll just leave the box over here-”
"-M, m buoou!”
“Okay…. here?”
“Daneeveo dueenboomo!”
…
“…What the hell are you saying?”
“Leeela duundao m…..” The Ortolan whines, yanking on his nose in clear distress.
Oh, to kriff with it.
You knew this was a bad idea.
But beggars can’t be choosers. This Ortolan crew was the only one which offered you a job as a mechanic, for that you are grateful. So, as long as you didn’t start a fire like the last repair you attempted, ultimately leading to your unceremonious marooning on Taek…
You’ll be… just…uh, fine!
…
Yeah.
Either way, you’re willing to take that risk. Anything’s worth it to get off Tatooine as soon as possible. Every minute lingered… stars. You’ve already stayed much, much too long… After all, who, at this point, isn’t trying to find you?
The Mandalorian bounty hunters- you… you don’t want to think about them; what- what they might do on his orders…
Kriff.
Kriff.
Next in line to destroy your life, there’s the Nar Shaddaa hunters. You’ve already been karkin’ stabbed by one. You don’t exactly want to make it easy for them to finish the job.
And then there’s…
Din.
Mandalorian, friend, protector…
…
A good man.
And maybe you are just- completely delusional… But he… cares a lot about you… Then again, the way he spoke to you- the things he said just before leaving-
…
Does he?
…It doesn’t matter.
“J-just,” you push out, rapidly blinking as you look away from the Ortolan. “Let’s agree to move on, start fresh? Otherwise-” you force a tight smile, waving your hand at the starship- “this will be a long, long trip to Nal Hutta.”
Kriff this.
Kriff all of this.
You- shit.
Shit!
Squeezing your eyes tightly together, you spin away, placing your back between you and the Ortolan crew. Damn it- it’s been three days already! Why do you still feel- feel this- this..?
…grief?
You open your eyes.
That’s what it is, isn’t it?
Grief.
You can’t help but snort, almost… relieved at the realization. After all, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s suppressing kriffing grief. Should be simple enough- no one’s even died this time, an overall improvement, you think.
You inhale deeply, pressing a palm to your cheek. Stars, this is going to be- KRIFF!
A hand on your arm-
You spin-
Hand to your belt-
Grab at the staff-
“Whoa! Wait! Hold on!” A hand grips your wrist. “Hey, wait!”
“Screw off!” you shriek, using your free hand to punch at the man’s chest. “Get away-”
“-I’m not trying to hurt you!”
…
You gawk at the man’s face.
Green eyes.
Sandy hair.
Tan skin.
Crooked nose-
-because you broke it years ago.
“Tesen!” you gasp, leaping into his arms.
“Hell!” he grunts, taken aback by your sudden shift in temperament “Kark, thought you were about to break my nose again!”
“Weeping Womprats, Tesen!” You grin, pulling back from the embrace. “Hell, I’ve missed you like a Hutt misses dinner!”
“Well, kriff then.” He flashes you a shy smile, diverting his eyes to the ground. “Didn’t know you felt that way.”
“You always were my second favorite guy-” an impish grin stretches across your face- “after Gavon, of course.”
“Oof-” he clutches his heart- cringes- “Damn, you haven’t changed, I see.”
Pulling him in for another hug, you can only laugh. “But you were my first favorite mechanic.” You bury your face against his chest. “Only one I’d trust to work on my bike.”
He tenses- then there’s a gentle -pat- against your back.
“Yeah...”
Glancing up, you can only smirk- his cheeks are tinged with warmth, eyes darting everywhere but towards you.
“Don’t blush on my account-” you laugh at his groan and pull away- “I’m not worth it, trust me.” You glance away, your eyes catching the Ortolan crew, just blasted… staring at you.
“OH, so were you lot just going to sit there?” you growl. “Let me get kidnapped?”
…
One Ortolan shrugs.
“Oh, fine,” you sigh. “Well, what do you do these days, Tesen? Still a mechanic?” you ask, your lips sliding into a smirk. “Still working with the racing circuits?”
“No, I work here now.” His own smile quirks at his lips. “Cargo inspector for the planet’s administration.”
“Oh.” Twisting back to glance at the ship, your eyes widen. “Um, I… uh.”
“Don’t worry-” he winks. “I know this ship is carrying… hyperdrives.”
You blink.
“…Sure.”
He laughs, giving a quick nod over at the Ortolan captain. “Let’s just say I have an… understanding with a few of the cargo captains.”
Ah.
No need to say a word- you just return the grin.
“So hey,” Tesen clears his throat, breaking from your gaze. “How’s your old man- Valen?”
…
“He’s, uh… gone.”
“Blast.” Tesen’s voice softens. “I’m… sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You slide the toe of your boot across the ground and shake your head.
Hardly…
He’s dead because of you…
“It- it happened a long time ago. Um, anyway… blast. You have no idea how badly I needed to see you again.”
Tesen smiles, his voice perking up. “Oh, yeah? I heard you had been in town, but I never thought I’d run into you like this.”
-Stop.
Your breathing stops.
…
“Wh-what… what?” You stumble back. “How… how did you kn-”
“Aric Thall?” Tesen raises an eyebrow at you. “You… don’t know? About the Mandalorian trying to find you?”
…
Mandalorian…?
…
Trying to find you.
…
Oh.
…
Well.
…
Guess it’s time to fucking go-
-a hand grips, holds you back.
“Let me go, Tesen!” you shout, shoving against him with both hands. “I- I can’t stay- need to- let go!”
“Hey, hey! What’s wrong?”
He releases your arm- touches your face.
“What do you kriffing think?” You slap his hand away, your voice rising, straining against the fear and panic and anxiety bubbling up your throat. “…Bounty hunters? They blasted hunt! What? Did you think they wanted to propose marriage to me?”
“Dank Ferrik,” he whispers under his breath. “You need to get out of here. Aric Thall- he’s helping the Mandalorian find you.”
…
Shit.
Shit!
Hands grip, squeeze your shoulders.
“I- I have no idea how they tracked me here!” The words tumble from your lips, your palm slapping across your eyes. “I- oh, Maker!”
“What in the galaxy did you do?” His eyes widen. “You always did have a penchant for trouble. You sure pissed someone off.”
You grit your teeth, choosing to ignore his blatant prodding for information.
“Tell me, Tesen.” Both hands shoot up to your hips. “Everything.”
Tesen shrugs and turns to sit down. “My cousin told me the Mandalorian cut some sort of deal- I don’t have the specifics. But he’s entering Thall’s fighting rings in exchange for information.” He raises a brow, leans forward. “On you.”
You blink.
“Wait… what?”
This… doesn’t sound right.
Tesen shrugs again. “It’s all anyone’s talking about.”
“I’m-” you stare at the wall- “so confused?”
“Yeah, me too.” He scratches his head. “Thall told him you visited, but that you had left the planet. That’s why I was surprised to find you here.”
“…Blast.”
You can’t help but chuckle.
“Then the lurdo is lying to a Mandalorian.” You shake your head. “Thall is going to get killed.”
“Good.” Tesen glances away, the hint of a small, timid smile on his face. “He… he deserves it- for betraying you.”
Returning the smile, it grows with the warmth crawling across Tesen’s cheeks.
“One thing I don’t understand-” you sit beside him- “I- I was told three Mandalorians are hunting for me.”
“Maybe so, but only one made a deal with Thall- along with some tough looking woman.”
…
You blink.
Oh… no.
“…The Mandalorian- did your cousin happen to… describe him?”
“Tall. Scary. Big cape. Big rifle.” He scratches his face. “Um…”
“Color, Tesen.” Your voice lowers. “…What color was his armor?”
“Silver. Pure Beskar.”
…
…
“Is he INSANE?”
Your outburst flings Tesen backwards.
Hands hurling into the air, you release a guttural growl. You- You’re going to kill him- Din Djarin- kill him!
“Whoa- wait-”
“Is he crazy? He’s insane! INSANE!”
You march back and forth, back and forth-
“A few days without me, and he’s already kronged things up- trusting Thall?”
“Hey,” Tesen butts in, waving his hands. “Clue me in here!”
“Tesen!” You stop stomping around long enough to glare at him. “The Beskar- Din- he’s… my friend! I- oh, shit. It’s… complicated. Super, stupidly complicated.”
You bury your face in your hands. “Thall- you know Thall. The man plays dirty.”
“Yeah, so? Everyone knows that.”
“Except my friend!” You moan, leaning up against the hanger wall. “Thall…. SHIT!” You slap both hands over your eyes. “Beskar! Kriff! Thall wants his Beskar! He- you know his fascination with- damn it! Din’s in danger!”
“Wait, what are you going to do?”
“Come with me to Thall’s.” You slap both hands against your hips, your voice taking on a demanding edge. “I need your help.”
“I- I- you know I would,” he sputters. “But I can’t leave my post or-”
“Fine,” you grunt, spinning on your heel. “Then I need to go find someone.” You march towards the hanger doors.
“It was great seeing you again, Tesen!”
“Wait, it’s not safe for you-”
“Goodbye, Ortolans!” You throw a hand in the air as you stalk past their ship. “It’s been fun, but I’m afraid you’ll be needing a replacement mechanic.”
Their cheers are cut off by the slam of the door.
------------------------------
His words are cut off by the slam of the door.
-Knock-
-Knock-
“Talk to me, Darling.”
“Just- just leave me alone!”
You sink to the floor, sobs rocking your body as you bury your face in your lap.
“I’m not a mind-reader, little one. Tell me what you need from me.”
-Knock-
-Knock-
“Let me in, kid.”
Grandpa’s husky voice is muffled, barely audible from behind the door. But his words were calm- always so calm.
“Stop shutting me out.”
Always so damn calm.
“I don’t need or want anything from you!” you yell, wiping away your tears with a dirty sleeve. But it’s no use- new tears just roll in to take their place.
“P-please leave me alone! I’m t-tired of you always telling me w-what to do!”
Silence.
"You go out of your way to find the most damaging, dangerous…” You hear him pause- sigh.
You know he’s lighting his pipe.
“Would you rather I left you to self-destruct?”
You only sob harder. “Y-you ruin… e-everything!”
“…I’m trying so hard to keep your head above water-” pause- “but it’s impossible when you are so determined to drown.”
You lift your head- his words beginning to ease your heart- soften your temper like they always do…
“You’re just so…” his voice cracks- “young, little one.”
Your heart shatters.
You’re so kriffing… selfish.
“I can’t control you,” he continues. “I… know you’ll keep running away… searching for whatever it is you’re missing.” His voice grows hoarse, pained with every word. “All I ask is, please, promise me….”
-Pause.
“Please, always come back. You’re… you’re all I have left.”
Footsteps.
He’s walking away.
You slide the door open.
Grandpa is standing by the fire, pipe in his mouth, flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. He turns to give you a tentative look. “…I’m sorry, Darling,” he says, voice rough with his failure.
You don’t speak.
-You bolt forward.
His brawny arms open, receiving you in a tight embrace. You hide away, bury your face in his chest-
-and weep.
------------------------------
There he is.
Pablo- leaned back in a chair, faced away from you, smoking that stupid cigarra of his- oblivious that anyone even entered the hanger much less walking up behind him.
“Pablo!” You yank on the back of his chair with a jerk.
“SHIT!”
He flings backwards along with the chair, crashing- hard. “Don’t shoot!” He rolls to the side- stops- freezes.
“Princess?”
He blinks- tilts his head.
“Well, hello?”
“Hello, yourself.” You raise a brow.
“Where have you been?” He leaps to his feet, staring into your eyes like he still couldn’t believe it’s really you.
“I went to get bantha milk. Look, we don’t have time for this-”
“Like hell we do!” Pablo catches your wrist. “Now you just slow down a minute-”
“We don’t have time!”
“You had time to run away-” he drops your arm- “leave everyone worried about you-”
“Yell at me later.” You lower your brows, matching his glare with equal force. “You have to help me.”
“Help you? What, run away again? No-”
“Listen, stop arguing-”
“What if I like arguing?”
“Maker’s mercy, will you shut up and-” you freeze. Glancing up at the sky, you swallow the curses bubbling up your throat.
“Let’s try this again.”
He crosses his arms.
“Fine,” he sighs, shifting his weight to the side. “Okay, Miss Runaway, what the kriff are you doing here?”
You open your mouth, but no words exit.
A thought.
“Wait. Where’s…” Biting your lip- you turn, glancing around the hanger. “Where’s the baby?”
Pablo’s demeaner shifts- relaxes. “Peli has him in the ship.” His voice softens with every word, the anger, frustration draining from his face. “Little green kiddo really misses you, Maker only knows why.”
Kriff.
-a stab
-a lurch in your chest.
Damn it… you’re abandoning a child, exactly what you fought with Din over- he’s alone- alone and-
-stop.
Squeezing your eyes shut, your force your mind to refocus… just refocus.
“Keep your voice low.” You pry your eyes open again- shame and embarrassment bleeding along the edge of your heart. “I- let’s not upset the kid. He… it’s best he doesn’t know I’m here.”
…
“What? Why?”
“I’m not staying.”
Pablo blinks.
“I’m- I’m really confused right now. You’re not back to stay?”
“Pablo!” You knock your hat back, placing a hand on your hip. “Maker, can you please keep up? I’m a ticking time bomb!”
You step forward- Pablo steps back.
“I’m. Not. Staying.”
“Relax, relax!” He holds his palms up. “Just start from the top. Kriff, Sweetheart.”
Grabbing his hand, you peer at Pablo from beneath your hat’s brim. “Din- the rusted tin head- is mixed up in something extremely dangerous. He’s got to get out of there- now.”
“Oh, man. Stinks for him.”
“And I have to go warn him-”
“Oh, for sure.”
“-with you.”
…
“No. No.”
He turns- practically runs away from you. “No, no way!”
“You dirty- Pablo!” you bark, stomping after him. “Stop! This is important! He will- kark- Din could die! Please, come with me- we have to get him out of there!”
Growling under your breath, you continue to chase him down. “I can’t let this happen to Din, especially when he’s doing it to find me. Blast it, that’s why I left- so he and the baby wouldn’t be hurt.”
Stars!
Why the hell did Din agree to this- all just to find you? Did he think about the kid if he were to lose, to die? Did he think about any of that? No, of course he didn’t. He has some nerve lecturing you for your impulsion- yet here he is making the decisions of a karkin’ brainless Gundark.
…
He… he must really care about you.
The guilt, the shame that washes over your body distracts you from Pablo’s irritated grunt.
“Sweetheart,” he huffs. “Need I remind you that your precious Mando had me frozen in Carbonite- mailing me, postage paid, to my death?” Pablo throws you a look across his shoulder and keeps moving forward. “So, what makes you think I’d take any risk for him?”
“Pablo!”
“I don’t even like any of you!” he shouts, stuffing some of his possessions into a bag. “No, I’m out. I’m running away too.”
“Please!”
Silence.
“Please… then don’t do it for him.”
You grab his arm, trying to meet his eyes, but he refuses.
“Do it for me.”
He still won’t meet your eyes- but if you know Pablo- his silence means you’re making progress.
“I’m scared to do this alone.” Your voice drops, a mere whisper. “With all the hunters out there- I’m… afraid to go in without you, as much as it pains me to admit.”
“I need you.”
…
He throws his head back- groans. You bite back your own smile.
“Well-” he flops his head to the side- sighs- “I guess it’s nice to be needed. That’s certainly a first for me.”
You grin.
“Pablo, for once-” you give him a peck on the cheek- “I’m actually glad I saved your life.”
“Then-” he smirks- “I think we’re making progress.”
You giggle and slap a hand on his back. “Then let’s get going!”
You start walking forward, eager to get to Thall’s arena as soon as possible- but movement catches your eye.
You glance up.
Inside the cockpit- two little green hands are pressed against the glass-
Air catches in your throat.
You blink- then a hazy voice…
…
“…Mama, up! Up!”
Her little hands tug on the edge of your cloak.
“Okay, little one-” you smirk, hefting her up to look out the glass. “Dang, girl-” you draw her close, painting her cheek with kisses- “you’re growing like a weed. You better stop, or I’ll send you to live with the Lothwolves.”
“There! Look!” she giggles, pulling away from you to press two little hands against the glass. She looks up, shooting you a bright, toothy smile. “Shiny men, Mama! Shiny men!”
“Yeah.” Your smile fades, dread beginning to swirl at the base of your spine.
“Shiny men…”
…
“Hey.”
You jerk around, staring at Pablo.
He nods his head. “You ready?”
You turn back.
The little green hands are gone.
“Let’s go.”
------------------------------
“Hey, hold up- excuse me, sorry!”
“Pablo!” You glare down at him from the top of the staircase. “Get your sequined butt up here!”
You suppose there really was no use in glaring at him... After all, your entire face (glare included) is completely hidden by your vocoder mask, the same kind worn by the arena’s singers.
“Now, look here, yipe!-” he leaps aside, avoiding the crowd of spectators storming down the steps- “I didn’t come along just so you could bully me- arg!” He is knocked into the rail. “Oof- no, excuse you, sir!”
Pablo stomps up, pausing just in front of you, a scowl etched deep on his face. “I hate everything,” he grumbles, wiggling the collar of his jumpsuit.
“Keep up,” you sigh, turning on your heel.
“Look, I know we’re disguised as performers-” he grabs at the sequined fabric stretched across his rear- “but did you have to steal me a jumpsuit two sizes too small?”
Rolling your eyes, you scamper up the next flight of stairs. “Oh, you look fine,” you bark back. “And it’s all I could find in the basement!”
You don’t have time for this- Pablo’s grumbling.
Din’s first fight could be- stars!- any moment! You have to find him or Cara immediately… which is easier said than done. Thall’s arena is packed- crammed to max capacity. But you know this building like the back of your hand- if Cara is anywhere- if Din is anywhere- it’s Thall’s skybox.
…If they’re still up there.
“Pablo, I- oh!”
“Whoa!” Pablo’s arms wrap around your waist from behind, preventing a nasty tumble down the stairs. “Easy- those heels aren’t exactly made for racing, you know?”
“Dank Ferrik!” you hiss, allowing Pablo to lead you to a nearby chair. You release a heavy sigh. “I’m ashamed of myself.” You glance up at Pablo, a rueful smile on your face. “Heels and dresses were like a second skin to me on Nar Shaddaa, and look at me now, tripping all over myself.”
Stooping down, you adjust the strap on the shoe, allowing for easier movement, and you can’t help but sigh. “I might feel nostalgic if I had the time.”
“Well, speaking of time-” Pablo turns- catches a passerby- “Excuse me, do you know when the first fight starts? Uh, with the Mandalorian?”
The man chuckles and gives Pablo a curious glance. “Son-” he slaps a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave- “why do you think everyone’s yelling?”
You blink.
No…
…
BLASTED STARS!
You burst up from your chair- flying down the hall- Pablo’s shouts licking at your heels. “Dank FERRIK!” you bark, just before diving into the sea of bodies pressed against a viewing window. You try elbowing through the crowd- but no use. Sinking to the floor instead, you crawl under legs, desperate for even just a peek through the viewing window.
“Ouch! Get off my- oh!” Your hand slaps across your mask. “Din!” you hiss, eyes blasting open at the sight below.
Gleaming Beskar- surrounded by pools of blood and corpses… And one colossal, drooling, slashing…
-Rancor.
“Kriff! KRIFF!” Your screams drown in the sea of spectators. “Damn it, Din! KILL IT!”
This can’t be happening- this can’t be happening.
You’re too late- you’re too late.
“Just- blasted kill it! JUMP!” You slam both palms of your hands against the glass. “I can’t- OH- WATCH OUT!”
The Rancor cries, roars against Din’s flamethrower, lashing out with a swing of its claws. Din propels backwards with his jetpack, narrowly avoiding the slice, but he, in turn, loses precious ground to the slobbering beast. The raw stench of burnt flesh wafts through the halls. You slap a hand across your mask, trying to suppress the bubbling bile rising up your throat.
Damn it.
Damn it!
Your fist crashes into the glass.
You swear on your life, if your Mandalorian dies because of this- because of you…
-you will burn this whole damn place to the ground.
It seems the flames only enraged the creature- saliva and bile raining through its teeth as Din turns- reassess his position. Your heart squeezes- aches- he’s cornered- cornered in. And-
“Din!”
He flings into the air- flames cascading down in a golden waterfall, temporarily blinding you. You squeeze an eye open- watching claws and teeth slice through the fire-
-SLAM-
The floor quivers beneath your knees as the creature smashes its fist straight into the side of the arena’s forcefield.
“Dank Ferrik!”
“Holy shit!”
“Did you see that?”
“Best show in years!”
You sneer at the jubilancy surrounding you. To hell with this! You’re not going to sit here and watch your Mandalorian turned into monster chow!
You flip around- scrambling on all fours to squeeze beneath the sea of legs. Stumbling up to your feet, you twist your head- frantic to locate Pablo.
You pause- blink.
“Pablo!”
There he is- down the hall- losing his absolute mind along with the crowd.
“You Nerfherder! Stop cheering!” Slapping a hand on his shoulder, you struggle to pull him away from the viewing window. “He’s going to karkin’ die!”
“Stars!” he groans, relenting to your hold. “But I just put credits down!”
“They better be on Din,” you yell over your shoulder, sailing down the closest flight of stairs. “Or I’m never blasted speaking to you again!”
“That’s not a threat, Sweetheart!”
“Carbonite man,” you growl under your breath. Well, he had better keep up because you aren’t waiting around, even if it leaves you unprotected. You don’t care. You don’t care.
You’re not even sure how many flights of stairs you’ve flown down- all you know is that with every thunderous cheer, with every whoop of the crowd- Din is one step closer to the end result of the fight…
Whatever it may be…
…Oh stars.
Once you reach the ground-level, your instinct, your memory takes over, leading you with straight towards the secured gate that opens into the arena. You cut around corners- heave past crowds- barrel down to- ah, there!
There! The gates!
“Shit!”
You freeze- legs tangling up at the sudden stop, nearly hurling you to the ground. Your eyes widen, staring through the bars of the gate, eyes glued only on him.
Din.
Smoking blaster- his armored chest heaving-
-and dead Rancor pinned beneath his boots.
He gazes down at the creature as if completely unaware of the wild, raucous applause ripping through the building. Re-holstering his blaster, he flings aside his cape, turns, and drops several feet to the ground. Shoulders rolling back in complete and utter ease, he hooks his fingers in his belt.
You smug bastard. A lop-sided grin stretches across your face. You absolute show off.
You blink, the smile wavering on your lips.
Maker, that stance- he- he’s… dang. Really kriffing sexy.
Kriffing sexy… and alive! You- you can’t believe-
“Din! DIN!”
You grab ahold of the gate, bouncing up and down on your toes. “HELL YEAH!” Throwing your head back, you burst into wild laughter. Maker, you’ve never been so damn proud of a man in all your life!
“That’s my Mandalorian!” you cackle, beaming ear to ear. “Din! Over here- wait! No, wait!”
But it’s too late. There he goes, blasting into the air with that stupid jetpack of his.
“Dank Ferrik!” you growl, pushing back against the gate. “You tin-head! You did that on purpose-” you fling both hands into the air- “to make me keep running after you!”
“HEY!”
“Pablo!” you shout back, turning to race down the corridor.
Panting heavily, he catches up to you with a few long strides. “Corellian hells!-” he reaches out to touch your shoulder- “don’t do that again!”
“Do what?”
“I couldn’t find you,” his voice strains. “I was worried you might jump into the ring- try and choke out the Rancor.”
“I would have-” you spin on your heel, squeezing through a large crowd of Twi’lek and human performers- “if I had a shockstaff.”
“Then you’re never getting a shockstaff.”
“Try and stop me.”
You can only smirk at the string of grumbles that fall from his lips.
“Come on-” you grip his hand- “he should be in one of the private rooms in the back. We can slip in and-”
“Hey, you!”
-you freeze.
An elaborately dressed woman rushes forward, snatches Pablo’s hand from your own. “You should have been in section four thirty minutes ago!” she snarls, tugging at his arm. “We have one final dance rehearsal before the performance!”
“…Dance?”
Pablo’s head whips around- staring, pleading with you for help.
“Sw-sweetheart-”
“NOW.”
All you can do is watch, slipping him a pitiful shrug as he is yanked away to Maker knows where… You snort. You sure hope he’s as talented at dancing as he is spinning tales, or he’s in some serious bantha poodoo…
-----------------------------
Ah, here we go!
It took longer than anticipated to locate the corridor housing the private suites, but after a bit of frantic searching, you’ve finally located it. Unfortunately, you still have no idea which room Din could be within… Maybe the grand suite? Or the one overlooking the main entrance?
Well, you’ll figure it out, even if you have to knock on every last door to find him.
You have to admit, you can’t wait to see him again…
Stars! A grin bursts across your face, and you struggle to suppress a giggle. You also just can’t believe he did it! Hell yeah!
He killed a Rancor.
…
…for you.
To find you.
Oh Maker… You don’t deserve him.
You clasp both hands together, laughing under your breath. You’re just so… so damn proud. The second you see him, you’re going… to… to…
You freeze- the air squeezes from your lungs.
…
Well.
You…
You found Din Djarin.
Down the hall, entering his room-
…
-with two women hanging off his arms.
You just… stare, blood throbbing in your ears as they disappear from view. The slam of the door shutting behind them rushes down the hall- ramming into your chest like a punch.
Then-
-silence.
You clench your trembling hands into fists, your nails digging, cutting into your palms.
…
Well.
Guess someone’s having a little celebratory fun… What the blazes do you do? Go knock? Interrupt… whatever?
…
No. You know what?
Kark him.
You press both hands against your thighs, flames beginning to tinge along the edge of your vision. Clenching your jaw, you throw back your shoulders, spin around, and march down the hall.
Why- Maker!- what’s wrong with you? Turn around- go bang on his door- get him out of here. That was the plan- stick to it!
But you…. you’re-
-ridiculous.
The fire scorching the edge of your vision is extinguished by a watery flood. You reach up to wipe your eyes with a glittery sleeve, but- kriff!- the mask prevents it.
Maker above! Karking crying? Damn, you’re embarrassed on behalf of yourself! Why do you care so much what he does? Stars! He’s free to do whatever damn thing he wants… the lurdo.
You’ve never even seen his face! How kriffin’ old is the Mandalorian anyway? Stars, he- he probably just sees you as some stupid girl who can’t stay out of trouble without him! Killed a Rancor because he feels sorry for you!
After all, if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Mandalorian since the day he pulled you from the sands of Taek, it’s that he has a penchant for collecting friends, pathetic rescues- pathetic rescues like yourself.
That’s all you are to him.
Your lower lip trembles- whether in furor or dejection, you aren’t certain.
…Kriff him!
You grind your teeth, forcing your lip to still.
Stop. It… doesn’t matter what he does.
Your… your feelings for him aren’t… real. You’ve always known that- acknowledged that. You know you’re susceptible to silly daydreams; you’re desperate for attention- a home- a family…
And Din Djarin gave you all of that.
So, no- this burst of emotion? These karking tears?
You clench your hands into fists.
They mean nothing.
Just… manifestations of your loneliness.
But- but still… you had always thought that… his feelings were real…
…
But they’re not.
Which is… good.
If the Mandalorian had real feelings for you, the moment he learned what you’ve done, who you are... No, you were right to run away the first time, for more reasons than one. You- you have to stick to that plan.
It… is what it is.
…
But damn, do you hate him right now.
----------------------------
~I can’t let the way you are influence me~
Shut up, Din.
~You make rash, impulsive, emotional decisions~
Shut up! Maker, just shut up!
~We’re done here~
“Yeah,” you growl aloud, trailing behind the flow of people filtering into the arena’s entertainment hall. “We are done, Din Djarin.”
Your first step into the arena’s entertainment hall is a time machine, spinning you back to a time and place you thought you’d never relive. Yet here you are- in the room from your memories- only this time you’re back to search for your dumbass friend in a sparkly jumpsuit.
Maker!
Your eyes trail upwards, following the natural light. Ah, there’s balconies you’d jump from with the crew! And the- you sniff the air- heavy scent of roasting meat still lingers, hovering in the air. The reverberations of booming laughter and mirth twist, meld together in the air. The echoes rise, just barely kissing the ceiling, before slipping out through the open windows and into the sunlight above.
You can’t help but smile softly.
But reminiscing is not the goal for today.
You’re leaving. Getting the kriff off this planet.
And Pablo has to stay and warn Din for you… if you could just blasted find him! Pablo- stars- the man is impossible! You take him on a field trip, and what does he do? Disappears.
Arg! Where the hell is he? Your eyes sweep the lines of entertainers, the tables of special guests- but no Pablo. Hell, did he elope with a Jawa and leave? This is the perfect chance for him to talk with Din! You swear, if he left you-
You gasp- Cara! And… You clench your teeth, biting back an audible growl. Karkin’ Aric Thall- the lying sack of Hutt excrement. There they are- sitting up on his favorite platform, the best view in the house.
You- you have a good mind to march right up there and- and-
“Where’s the Mandalorian?” Thall rises from his chair, standing at the edge of the platform. “Is he in medical? Surely he’s not snubbing my hospitality!”
The crowd murmurs.
-slam-
You spin around- Din! He’s just… standing in the doorway, both hands pressed against the frame.
A cheeky grin begins to stretch, beam across your face, until… you remember what he was doing the last time you saw him…
“There he is!” Thall chuckles, sitting back in his seat. “Come.”
Din remains motionless, silent- and the air thins, as if one wrong move could shatter it into a thousand gleaming shards.
“Uh oh,” you groan, wrapping both arms tightly around your body. You know the Mandalorian- he’s pissed.
In the flick of an eye- he’s moving, sweeping forward through the room- paving a direct path for Thall.
“Stars!” you hiss, moving forward on his mark.
You can’t hear a word of their conversation- but Din is none too happy. If you had to wager a guess… um, well, Din’s probably not amused by the Rancor addition to the fight.
Something tells you that wasn’t part of their original agreement…
Standing as close to them as you can without raising suspicion, you turn up the dials on your mask, amplifying the sound.
“Come on-” Thall’s voice cuts through your mask- “a true Mandalorian can handle any little surprise thrown at them.”
“A Rancor is a little surprise?” Cara butts in.
“Yes!” Thall laughs, swinging his arm to the side. “Surprise, it’s a Rancor! It’s good for business.”
Din tilts his head to the side. “No more surprises.” His voice is low- so low you almost can’t hear him even with the dial turned up.
“Understood?”
Thall just laughs. “Come on! My reputation is built around surprises!” Lacing his fingers together, he throws a leg up and over the arm of his chair. “You handled it like a Mandalorian ought to have. So, what’s the problem?”
“We had conditions,” the Mandalorian growls, taking a step forward. “See that you stick to them.”
Thall’s eyes widen in mock concern. “I have, haven’t I?” He glances at his guards before turning back to the Mandalorian. “You had a fight. You won the fight. So, you win the next fight, and you learn how to locate our... friend.”
Our friend?
Hell no. I think not.
It takes all of your resolve to keep from marching forward, ripping your mask off, and revealing what a blasted liar Thall is.
“You never explained, Mando,” asks Thall. “I hope you don’t seek her for a bounty. As many headaches as both she and Valen caused me, I do still have fondness for her.”
Ha.
Liar.
More like fondness for the cash you drew in.
The Mandalorian is silent, still, then steps forward-
“My reasons are my own.”
“Well,” Thall sighs. “It must be important to go to all this trouble.” He slaps his hands on the arms of his chair, leaning forward. “Who hired you? What did she do? Tell me- I am dying to know.”
Silence.
“Ah! So unnecessarily dramatic,” Thall grumbles, flopping back in his seat. “Fine! We’ll change topics!” The tips of his fingers bounce rapidly against his leg. “Sooo.... we’re excited to have a Mandalorian visiting here again! It’s been a while, am I right?” Thall’s voice booms at the last few words, seizing the crowd’s attention. In a mixture between slurred cheers and boos, the crowd erupts, encouraging Thall to continue.
“I know!” Thall springs from his seat, staring down at the Mandalorian. “Why don’t we switch things up here, and you entertain us!”
Cara’s laugh is a bark. “Killing a rancor wasn’t entertainment enough?”
“Oh!” Thall chuckles, shooting his guards a knowing look. “I know! How about blade throwing? Or sharpshooting? Mandalorians are supposed to be good at that, right?”
The Mandalorian keeps his voice even, but his irritation is not veiled.
“I’m not interested in your games, Thall.”
Of course, Thall pretends he didn’t hear that. The man always was-
“Oh! Yes! Yes, yes!” Thall’s words burst through your thoughts. “I have an even better idea!”
Kark, what now?
You watch, anger only rising in your chest. Thall sweeps his eyes across the room, across the sea of faces-
-stops.
…
You.
Oh… Force.
He’s staring at you.
No.
Oh no.
"Put the dancer against the wall.”
…
Oh, FORCE.
A hand clasps your arm, and you instinctively resist- yanking against the hold. “What?” you hiss. “Wait!”
The guard lugs you forward, pulling a squeak from your lips. Oh stars! What do you do? What’s happening what’s do you do oh stars, stars, stars!
“Move. Now.”
You hiss. His claws dig, cut through your sleeve, into your flesh.
You… you have to stay calm.
You… can’t blow your cover. Stay calm.
…Oh stars.
With one final thrust, you are heaved forward, and you hit the wall with an audible oof through your mask’s vocoder. Sucking in air through your teeth, you fling around, pressing your body flush against the wall, the roughness scraping your exposed back and legs.
You blink.
Din.
He’s just… staring at you.
Unreadable as always.
Blast! Panic nips at your heart. Does he recognize you? Seven Corellian hells! Do you reveal yourself- risk a fight breaking out? Oh kark, your plan was to sneak out. Arg! What do you do?
You clench your hands into fists, resisting the urge to groan.
Hell. The things you get mixed up in…
Wrapping your anxiety up with a bandage of confidence, you lift your chin, awaiting Thall’s next move.
The Mandalorian breaks from his trance.
“What are you doing?” He dips his head back to Thall.
He flashes the Mandalorian that old familiar, no-good grin…
Oh dear.
“You’re going to show us your blade throwing precision skills-” Thall motions a guard, carrying a set of blades, forward- “with a live target.”
....
Live-
OH FORCE.
“If Mandalorians are as good as the legends say, she’ll be just fine.” Thall has the audacity to wink at you. “Or if you inadvertently kill her, well-” he waves a hand- “I have plenty more.”
…
The Mandalorian does not move- does not speak. His blank, lifeless visor is focused only on you.
And you only on him.
“Well?”
…
He shifts- glares at Thall.
“No.”
“Fine…” Thall purrs. He glances over at his guards- raises a hand at them.
…
“Then kill her.”
…
Kill? …Wait-
DANK FERRIK.
“OOF!” You are flung against the wall, a hand pressing, locking you in place. “No, no, stop-”
You freeze- eyes blasting open-
A man-
Blade extended-
Stepping forward-
-BLAST-
-BLAST-
Burnt flesh pierces your nostrils.
“Bloody seven hells!” you warble through the modulator, gawking down at the lifeless body mere inches from your feet- the second body also much too close for comfort. Your head shoots up, your eyes widening.
The Mandalorian is facing you- smoking blaster in hand.
“Yay!” Thall’s voice pierces the tension, his claps echoing throughout the silent room. “Excitement already!”
This is the flick that switches the crowd- their shouts and cries swirling together to birth utter chaos.
The guard steps up to the Mandalorian, offering him the blades. He stares down at them- to you- to Thall.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Thall purrs.
You groan. Holy Maker, you knew you should have sent 4PO in your place…
Squeezing both eyes shut, you swallow back your dread. Dank Ferrik, how the hell do things always go so blasted wrong? Should you reveal yourself? Ah, no, no, then a firefight would break out- he- Din- could be killed- or you- or-
“Don’t move.”
Your eyes blast open.
The Mandalorian- he’s… leaning over you- so close you can feel his warm, protective aura wrap around you like a cloak.
“Understood?” He shifts closer, his voice all but a rasp. “Don’t move.”
Well, damn it if you won’t obey him, but all you can muster is a pitiful nod in response.
He returns the nod, turns to leave-
“I trust you.”
He freezes at your words- turns to stare at you. His dark visor bores into your mask, as if he could sear straight through to metal- past all the wiring- and see only you.
But then he’s storming away again, palming a blade in his gloved hand.
You press your head back. Uh, wait- is this really happening? Kark! Well, you suppose you were going to get yourself killed eventually… Might as well be at the hands of a friend, right?
Right…
He stands at a distance- angles his head to the side, the blade firm in his grip.
Silence.
He pulls back-
Your eyes widen. Holy k-
-Slam-
You turn your face ever so slightly to the right, the ice-cold metal of the blade jutting from the wall a chill against your skin.
Your mouth drops.
Did… did he mean to get that close?
His voice hisses in your mind.
“Don’t move.”
-Slam-
Two.
-Slam-
Three.
-Slam-
Four.
You flinch with every landing, eyes squeezed as tightly closed as physically possible. Stars! How many more-
-Slam-
You hiss, and crack an eye open, glancing down at the blood pooling, dripping from your right hand. You moan, and tuck the hand behind your back, hoping no one noticed the graze.
The crowd bursts into cheers, the tension and silence eradicated by the Mandalorian’s final blade toss.
“She lives!” Thall’s voice cuts through the ruckus. “I get to keep my dancer!”
Flopping your head back against the wall, all you can do is groan. “Dank Ferrik,” you warble, pressing your left hand against your chest.
Hell, first he stabs your heart, then he slices your hand. If you weren’t about to run away again, you’d stay and kill Din Djarin.
A flick of movement draws your eyes forward. There- the Mandalorian- Din- he’s making a path straight for you, seemingly blind to the room, the chaos surrounding him.
You blink and watch him approach. You know it’s tempting fate, but… you can’t resist.
“Not bad,” your modulated voice mumbles. “Could use a little improvement.”
Din pauses just before you and leans his head forward.
“You’re not dead, are you?”
Your smirk is hidden behind the mask. “No-” your hand grips the handle of a blade, and with a tug, you yank it from the wall- “I’m alive for now.” You stretch your hand forward, offering him the weapon.
Silence.
You think he’s grabbing for the weapon, but he grabs your right hand. He stares down at his glove, your blood black against the leather.
“L-like I said,” you stutter, biting your lip- “uh, you could use a little improvement.”
His visor is glued to your hand, to your blood. Then, his head trails up… to your masked face- along your sleeved arms- down your torso-
Oh kark.
You rip your hand away, stumbling off to the side.
You don’t say a word- you just run.
------------------------------
Step- step- swing to the left.
Twist- twist- spin.
Left- left- shake your body.
Thrust- thrust- pose.
Stars, thank the Maker Thall’s dancers are performing to standard Nar Shaddaa choreography. The last thing you need is to stand out even kriffing more than you already do… You know this dance, this song like the back of your hand.
You follow along with the line of dancers, your muscle memory taking over as the lights dim further- dipping the room into a neon glow. The bass throbs in your head, preventing you from doing any coherent thinking. So, you flip into autopilot- taking this opportunity to glance out at the crowds for a sign of blasted Pablo.
You gaze out- (spin, spin, to the left)- eyes sweeping across the neon faces- (thrust, thrust, kick your leg)- but it’s no use- (swing, swing, release the pole)- there’s just too many karkin’ faces!
As much as you enjoy dancing, this is a waste of time- (kick, kick, spin around).
You scowl out at the crowd, and your breathing stops.
Din.
Leaning up against the wall, both arms crossed, his visor is trained- unmistakably trained- on you.
Stars!
How long has he been watching you? Or rather… why is he watching you?
You twist your head back and forth with the music- catching Din out the corner of your eye a second time.
-Still staring.
Maker!
You rip your eyes away, your heart fluttering in your chest. Oh hells, now you wish you had never noticed his attention- you can barely remember the choreography much less focus on trying to find Pablo in the crowd.
You hiss, fumbling with your rhythm.
Blast him- the Mandalorian’s ruining your performance.
You grit your teeth, seething. Doesn’t he have his own entertainment to get back to in his quarters? You might would be flattered by the attention… if he knew it was you. But he can’t possibly know it’s you. He… he thinks you’re… someone else.
You can’t help but growl.
Kark him!
Not that you’re jealous…
Right…?
…
Kark him.
…
Ah! There!
Your eyes catch a flash of white light- a door opening and closing just to the side of the room. This is your best opportunity. You slip from the performance, fleeing through the door and down the side corridor.
Thankfully, the crowds are thinning out now, which should make the building easier to navigate- easier to locate your sequined companion. You continue running down the corridor, keeping an eye open for any good hiding spot.
“Pablo!” you hiss, ducking your head into an open storage room door. “You there?” You swear, if he’s been hiding this entire time- you’re going to kick his- YIKES!
A steely grip pulls, yanks you away from the door and straight down the hall.
“W-wait!” you squeak, stumbling over your own feet.
Your eyes shoot up-
Din.
…
Oh…. shit.
His glove is locked around your left wrist, dragging you behind him as he stalks down the hall. Stumbling against his pull, you squeak again, but he does not slow his pace.
“Wh-what are- urg!”
You nearly crash into his back at his sudden stop. The door to his quarters flies open, and he pushes you forward. You stumble into the edge of the bed- collapsing onto it with an oof.
Then the door slams shut behind you.
…
Footsteps.
…
Oh kriff.
You spin around to face him. “I- I can-”
The mask rips from your face-
…
…
His chest heaves.
His visor- frozen- on your eyes.
Oh…
…
Oh stars.
You stand- hands raised.
“D-Din… I- I ju-”
He grabs your wrist-
-yanks you forward-
-his arms crashing you against his chest.
…
Safe.
…
You’re safe.
…
“Dank Ferrik,” you groan, burying your face in the fabric just beside his pauldron.
His arms tighten at your voice, squeezing you even closer into him.
“You left.”
His voice is rough, strained.
You shove on his arm. “Technically,” you mumble, face buried in fabric, “you left me first.” Peeling away from his armor, you glance up at him.
His helmet dips down, visor trained on your eyes- your face. His arms relax, dropping to the curve of your lower back.
“But at least I had a good reason-” you pout your lips in playful contempt and jab a hand into his side- “unlike you… uh-”
You tense.
The cool of leather brushes down the side of your cheek- curves around your jaw. It stops- pausing just beneath your chin-
-and lifts.
“I-It’s good, um-” you force a grin- “to… see you, Din.”
Leather dusts your ear.
“Ka’r’ika…”
…
Damn, damn it.
That’s it-
You’re done for.
“I- uh- I…” you fumble, flicking your eyes to the floor.
Oh, Dank Ferrik.
You reach up, gripping his wrist. “Come now, Din.” Pushing his arm away, you take a step back- space to think. “Don’t get all… uh, sentimental on me.” Your forced smile tightens. “We- we can talk about things later, once we’re out of here.”
He, too, steps back, and dips his head at you.
“Talk.”
Crossing your arms, you can’t help but snort at his brevity. “Well, I came to save your rusted ass, Mando… Thall is a creep. He lied about knowing how to find me so he could con you into fighting.” Rubbing your temple, you can only sigh.
“Trust me, all he wants your Beskar.” You throw out a hand- smacking it against Din’s armor. “You flashy show off.”
Oh-
He’s caught your hand, holding it against his armored chest. His hand is warm, firm above your own.
And he isn’t letting go.
“We… need to leave,” you whisper, tugging against his grip.
He frees your hand- angles his head to the side.
…
“Come.”
His voice is soft, gentle.
…
“I’m taking you home.”
…
Oh.
“S-sure-” you clear your throat, eyes flicking away from him- “I just need that mask… wherever it flew, aha...”
Swooping to the side, you reach down, scooping the abandoned vocoder up off the floor.
“Hells,” you grumble, snapping it into place. “Um, hey, we’re twinning, Mando!”
Hooking his fingers in his belt, he just flops his head to the side.
Grinning ear to ear, you pull the mask away to shoot him a pointed look. “Tell me,” you ask, “how’d you know it was me?”
“Who else but you-” he takes a lumbering step forward- “would say she trusts me to throw a blade at her head?”
He has the audacity to reach up and tap your nose.
“Din Djarin!” Crinkling your nose, you take a swat at his hand. “I didn’t exactly-” you stick your tongue out- “have a choice.”
…
-a stab in your chest…a thought.
It’s petty, but…
“Oh, but I bet one of your companions-” you lower your brows at him, resentment resurfacing on your tongue- “from earlier would have also trusted you.”
…
“…You saw that?”
He stills- fingers flexing by his side.
“They… were in a bad situation,” he mumbles, barely audible through his vocoder. “…From which I helped them escape.”
…
“Oh.”
…
“So… you weren’t-”
“No.”
“…Oh.”
You blink.
“Not that I kriffing care what you kriffing do, Din Djarin.”
He just… stares.
Maker.
You want to die.
You just… awkwardly glance around.
…
“I… recognized the scar on your hand.” His voice is quiet, hesitant. “Kept an eye on you since.”
“Oh. Kark, of course.” Stretching your fingers, you glance down at your hand. “Mmf, got this my first week on Nar Shaddaa- a homecoming gift, I suppose.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you grimace at the scar.
“When we first arrived on-world, the lower level was the only place we could find work.” You flop your head back, groaning at the memory.
“And, just my luck, my first employer was raided my fifth night there. Out of nowhere.” Rubbing your temple, you release a heavy sigh. “Those were… hard days. But- stars- I… I schemed, I plotted, I learned the game as fast as I could.”
…At a price.
The bed dips down beside you, ripping you from your thoughts. You turn, meeting the Mandalorian’s neutral stare.
“…And I made it-” a smirk twitches at the corner of your lips- “I clawed my way into the city skylines, upper-level opulence.”
He chuckles.
“Well now…”
Leather brushes against your neck.
“That’s my girl.”
…
Oh Maker.
…You hate he saw how you grinned at that.
“Here-” his glove drops, motioning for your right hand- “that cut needs to be cleaned.”
“Making fun of my doctoring?”
He grunts, focused only on inspecting the wound.
You roll your eyes. “I just went and-”
Oh.
He’s… tugged his glove off- tossed it aside.
“Here.”
His hand- his human hand- his tan, big, warm human hand- oh stars, oh stars- reaches for yours-
Blast it- stop.
It’s a damn hand, for Maker’s sake!
“Are you hurt elsewhere?” he snaps, oblivious to the turmoil his kriffing hand is inflicting at the moment. He dabs a wipe across the wound. “Have you been eating?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” you chirp. “Fried up a womprat leg in the desert for lunch.”
…
“I’m kidding, Din.”
He blows a puff of air through the vocoder, and you can only grin.
Stars, he’s just too much fun to mess with…
“Blast! I told you- nhg- that you needed a little- ah- improvement-” you cringe, forcing your eyes away from the wound.
He makes a noise- continues his task.
“I might be the better blade thrower,” you snort, continuing to ramble. “But, damn, you killed a whole ass Rancor!”
“Well-” he shoots a quick glance up- “I couldn’t kill just half its ass.”
…
He has a point.
“I know! You should teach me Rancor fighting!”
“No.”
“Please? I want to try taming one- ride it through town.”
You hiss- he’s pressed a bactapatch against your flesh.
“That’s beyond my paygrade, Ka’r’ika. I’ve only ever killed one. Taming-” he looks up at you, tilts his head to the side- “…taming is substantially more difficult.”
“Are you talking about me now?” you tease, crinkling your nose at him.
“Your words-” he quips, his tone deepening- “not mine.”
You chuckle, your lop-sided grin only growing.
Blast it.
You’ve… missed this… missed him.
“Well, anyway” you huff, shoving against his shoulder with your free hand. “I still think you’re a banthabrain for even considering Thall’s deal.”
Silence.
One, two, three short tugs, and he’s finished wrapping your injured hand.
“…I’d fight a second Rancor-”
His visor lifts.
“…If it meant finding you.”
…
You blink.
Oh.
Watching as naked skin disappears within the sanctuary of his glove, a… thought occurs.
“Well,” you mumble and stand, flicking your eyes north to his helm.
Oh, hell.
Just do it.
You whirl around, positioning between his legs. He jolts back- startled- as you slap both hands atop his pauldrons.
“…You found me.”
You lean forward- plant a sharp kiss against his visor.
A catch, a hitch in his breath-
-and he leaps to his feet, spinning you aside.
“We… we need to go,” he rumbles, stalking straight for the door. He stops beside it, fumbling with his belt.
“Fine,” you sigh, snapping your vocoder mask back into place. You saunter to stand beside Din, who’s still fiddling with something on his belt.
Throwing both hands on your waist, you jut out a hip.
“Well, you ready, Mando?”
The door snaps open.
And then he’s gone- ducks right out the door, cape swooping around at his heels.
You can’t help but chuckle under your breath.
Okay, so maybe you’ll never tame a Rancor in your lifetime…
…but you think you just tamed your very first Mandalorian.
------------------------------
“Just keep an eye out for lime green sequins.”
At your words, Din angles his head back at you, his silence speaking a thousand words.
“No, we shouldn’t leave Pablo.” You shake your head, glancing down each hallway you pass. “I think he has abandonment issues.”
Din just sighs, resting a hand behind your back to push you forward.
“I’ll tell Cara where to meet us.” The Mandalorian’s voice is all business. “And Pablo- we’ll… find him.”
“Don’t sound so depressed.” You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “He’s starting to grow on me.”
Din makes a noise- then pulls you close.
“Stay with me,” he rumbles. “Don’t say a word.”
“Lips? Zipped.”
He glares at you- and you can only smirk.
Ah, ahead!
The entrance to the entertainment hall…
Upon re-entering, it’s pretty much exactly how you left it- loud and chaotic. As you blink up at the flashing lights, you feel a tug on your arm.
“Keep up.”
The Mandalorian’s voice is hard, a warning.
“I told you that you can’t use that voice on me,” you hiss under your breath. “I’m not afraid of you.” You shove a hand into his back as if to prove your point.
“Aye!” you growl. “Din!”
“Quiet.”
“Don’t pinch me.”
“Quit being a brat.”
Thank the Maker you wear a mask- you’d hate to give Din the satisfaction of your stupid grin.
“Din,” you whisper, tugging on his arm. “Maybe we coul- OH!”
-an eruption, a burst of curses and shouts and chaos.
Your eyes blast open-
“Pablo!”
There he is- arms pinned behind his back as a group of performers trail behind him. There’s… blood dripping off the side of his face-
-and he looks pissed.
“Sir!” one of the guards shouts.
Thall just sighs. “Oh, what is going on? Interrupting my party…”
“An intruder. This man was pretending to be a performer, and he refuses to explain himself.”
“This man is lyin- oh OUCH.” Pablo’s head jerks to the side. “Was that necessary?”
“Ack,” Thall huffs, waving his hand aside. “I don’t care. I don’t care who he is. It isn’t important.”
“Thank you-”
“Just kill him.”
“Wa-wait WHAT?”
You slap a hand across your mouth, but before you can react- Din is blazing past you- straight for the crowd.
“Din!” you hiss, panic welling up in your throat.
Oh stars-
“Stop.”
The Mandalorian’s voice commands the room.
“Yes, stop!” Pablo laughs at Din’s appearance. “Maker, man, I’ve never been so-”
“He’s with me.”
Thall just… leans forward.
“Is there-” his voice is hard, cool- “a reason you have a spy in my midst, Mandalorian?”
Oh… kriff.
You begin pushing forward.
“He’s a friend,” Cara’s voice interjects. “Not a spy.”
“Were we-” Thall chuckles- “plotting something behind my back?”
The room freezes- stills-
-ready to shatter.
Thall- kark!
He’s been waiting for a reason to do this!
…
He’s- he’s going to kill Din for his Beskar.
Thall just… smiles.
…
“Kill them.”
The room erupts-
Bodies racing- blasters flying- shrieks-
Everyone is either fleeing-
-or joining in on a fight.
You scream, ducking behind a table to avoid a flying chair. “Kark!” You reach down, lugging your heels at a passing guard.
“You bunch of creeps!”
But your voice drowns in the ocean of pandemonium.
“Blast it, oof!” you growl, racing past several men wrestling each other. “You’re all idiots!”
Shit, shit!
You- you can’t see any of them!
“DIN?- get back, you- MOVE!”
You shove past a stampede of screaming dancers, spying-
-Aric Thall.
You bare your teeth.
You look to Thall- look to the wall.
An idea.
“Oh, just kill them,” Thall yells, stepping back behind his wall of guards. “Just blas-”
-SLAM-
A collective gasp-
The room crumples into silence.
…
You stand firm atop a table, pointing a second blade at Thall.
“ARIC THALL!”
You reach up- rip the mask from your face- smash it to the floor.
“Fuck you!”
Not the best choice of words, perhaps…
Thall just stares at you.
“Uh…” He casually glances at the blade jutting from the wall… mere inches from his head. “Do I know you?”
Karkin’ hells, you’ve got to be kidding…
You shout your name, rage bleeding through your words.
“Oh, Maker help us! It’s you!” Thall gasps, clutching his temples. “I should have known I had a headache for a reason-”
“I’m going to give you more than just a headache-” you jab the blade forward- “you greasy furball!”
“Ack!” Thall flops dramatically back in his chair. “If you were anyone else, I’d have you blasted for that.”
“You liar!” you shout. “You lied about finding me-”
You pause.
-a voice.
-your name.
Your eyes trail downwards.
Din’s pressed up against your table, inches from your feet, his hands held out for you.
“Ka’r’ika, come down-”
…
You turn- reject him.
You… you know what you’re doing.
…
Din has to trust you now.
“You know, I’m truly sorry our reunion had to be this way,” Thall laughs, flopping back in his seat. “Look at you, all big and grown and bossy. And violent. Valen must be proud.”
Your resolve wavers at his name.
“How is Gramps?”
“None of your concern.”
“Oh, so he’s dead.”
“I’m not here about him,” you growl, throwing your hand to the side. “You lied to the Mandalorian about the conditions of your agreement.” You clench your teeth, forcing an authoritative persona. “You had no information on me. Therefore, the agreement is void, and we will be going now. Thank you, and goodbye.”
“Ack, now, I didn’t lie,” Thall replies. “I just… mistook another for you! My eyes are really getting bad.”
“You need glasses, sir.”
“I know!”
“Uhg,” you groan. “Thall, you’ve not blasted changed a bit.”
“You neither!” he chirps. “And you aren’t going anywhere, isn’t that great?”
Furor threatening to boil over, you rush forward, stopping just at the edge of the table.
“You OWE me!” Your voice strains. “You were nothing but a flea-bitten scrap pile to the Hutts until I-” you jab a thumb at your chest- “came around- until I convinced my friends to give you the time of day- race under your banner.”
“You over-estimate your influence, I think.”
Then he- he laughs at you.
Red flashes, pulses in your eyes.
You- you want- you’re going to-
“Mandalorian.”
Thall crosses his legs, smiles at Din- now standing just behind you on the table.
“You can try and leave, but you-” he throws his hands up; makes a face- “will not make it out alive. Sorry!”
Oh-
That’s karking it-
You start forward. “Thall, I’m going to break-”
“Don’t hurt her.”
The Mandalorian yanks you back- pushes you behind him.
“…Our deal is still on.”
…
“I will fight.”
“Din!” you growl, grasping onto his cloak. “No- you stupid metal-”
“Hurt her-” he steps forward, pushing you back- “…and you’ll beg for me to kill you.”
Thall huffs.
“I don’t kindly to threats, Mando…”
Your eyes catch movement- Din’s hand… hovering above his blaster-
Kriff… No!
You lunge forward-
“A RACE!”
…
Thall tilts his head at you.
“Uh…Care to explain?”
You… you have to do this.
Din…
You can’t let him fight.
“Credits- you’ll have all the credits you can imagine, Thall.” You force your voice to steady, neutralize your waver. “You can advertise it as a big comeback of a… a legend that disappeared. Think- think of the gambling, the ticket sales…”
“Ka’r’ika-”
“I’ll race again, you slimy piece of filth.” You leap down from the table- the clomp of Din’s boots stomping just behind you. You pause beneath Thall’s platform. “And then we’ll go free… unharmed.”
…
“I used to make you a lot of money, Thall.”
“You certainly did…” Thall purrs. “And… an event such as this… would be worth much more to me than… a simple fight…”
“We had a deal.”
Din storms forward- the guards shoving him back.
“Din!” you hiss, shaking your head at him.
“This is more desirable to me, I’m afraid, Mandalorian.” Thall grins. “But on one condition-”
“Here we go,” Cara growls, stepping up beside Din.
“If you win, you all go free. But if you lose-”
Thall throws a leg up and over the arm of his chair.
“You’ll stay and race under my banner… for an entire year.”
…
Oh, hell…
“Ka’r’ika-” a hand wraps around your arm- “let me figh-”
“Deal.”
You lift your chin.
“We have a deal.”
“Ah, excellent! Just like old times!” Thall cheers, claps his hands. “She really cut you a good arrangement, Mando. We were just going to throw you in the Sarlacc for your next fight!”
“Thall,” you snarl. “You blob of-”
“-But you spared him!”
A harsh grip spins you around.
“What are you doing?”
Din’s voice is low- measured.
“Saving your ass.”
His hands just… drop to his side.
“Don’t worry so much, Din. Besides-” you force a grin- “If I lose, the hunters will be on me within a week… so there’s absolutely no risk of me having to stay a year!”
…
“Damn it…”
The curse slips beneath his helm.
“Hey-” you reach out- jab his arm- “you’ve not seen me at full capacity yet.”
The Mandalorian shifts… touches your face.
“I’m the damn best-” you lean into his touch- “remember?”
-a puff of air through his vocoder.
…
“Trust in me, Din. For once, trust in me.”
…
The cool of Beskar kisses your brow.
“...I always have.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter
taglist: (in the reblog)
a/n: Thank you SO MUCH for your patience.
My dudes, I’ve spent an EMBARRASSING amount of time on this chapter. I wrote and rewrote chapter 9 more than any other previous chapter. I just wanted it to be perfect- and between health and personal issues- I’m very proud that I was able to pull this chapter together in a way that exceeded my expectations!
Your beautiful comments kept me going! And, trust me, I savor every last one! I recognize regulars, and I think about the things you’ve commented while writing. They even inform how I write at times! (To the commenter who said they looove when Din hooks his fingers in his belt, I hope I checked that checkbox for you in chapter 9 lollll.)
Chapter 10 will pick up right where we left off here- but the second half of chapter 10 will be much different than the first half- and that’s all I’m saying…. Actually, I will go ahead and say we will be getting a LOT of angst and straightforward answers to Ka’r’ika’s/Reader’s past in chapter 10…
Also, I thought I would share a link to the FANTASTIC fanart a reader of In Fields of White @styxxus drew! It’s AMAZING! (Click here- Note that the images my look a bit squished on desktop. Just ‘right click’ the image and select ‘open in new tab’ to see the full artwork.) If you happen to create anything based off this fic, I’d LOVE to see it! Just head on over to my personal tumblr page! :)
Next, I am shamelessly plugging my new series, Auriga Hills, a Narcos fanfiction. The summary is as follows:
Javier Peña- brash, arrogant, a real jerk.
And now he’s your damn husband.
Allured by the prospect of mischief and money, you consent to marry Javier Peña to assist him in his undercover mission for justice. You’re only in it for the fun, nothing more, nothing less. But traveling together in close quarters on a train bound for the West Coast comes with some unexpected ramifications- you’re actually beginning to like the damn idiot.
In Fields of White ~ Chapter Ten ~ “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”
masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter
pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader
warnings: rated M for language; canon-level violence; angst; brief discussion of hunger/starvation; themes of parent/child separation; discussion of pregnancy; flirty rough-housing; character death
word count: 15.3k
chapter summary: when a dreaded face from your past emerges, everything in your new life, including your relationship with the mandalorian, is put under threat.
story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.
a/n: I’m really, really nervous for this one. 🙃Please read using the Ao3 link below if the length causes your app to crash! Also, MAJOR THANKS TO @sana-katarn WHO WAS A HUGE HELP.
also found on: Ao3
In Fields of White
Chapter Ten: “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”
If Grandpa was alive to see this mess, he’d roll over and die again.
No.
No-
He’d find Thall.
Kill him.
Then die again.
“Stars,” you groan, leaning both palms on either side of the sink. Lifting your head, you glare at the face staring back at you from the refresher mirror.
Your face… it feels like it’s all you recognize of yourself these days…
You grit your teeth as shame weighs your eyes low, down your bare body, down to the speckled floor beneath your toes. You wiggle them to ground yourself- to reign in the disgrace squeezing at your chest.
…Dank Ferrik.
You press your eyes against the voice pushing, pushing at your consciousness.
…
I told you so…
I know, Grandpa.
I told you Thall was sketchy.
I know! Maker! Do you have to rub it in, Gramps?
Just wanted to point it out. And don’t call me Gramps. Makes me feel ancient.
Kark off. You’re dead.
…
I love you, Grandpa.
….
Kriff.
No one warned you that the worst part of growing up would be the realization your family was blasted correct about a lot of blasted things.
Hissing through your teeth, you fling your hand through the current of water flowing from the faucet, the droplets glittering across the reflected crown of your head.
Oh, fine. Fine!
You twist away- hand snapping up your shirt from the floor.
You’re used to everything going wrong. What’s new?
Another day, another “you’ll maybe possibly probably die.” Only this time, everyone’s survival rests upon you.
Big karkin’ yay.
If you survive this, you’re writing a book.
“Thall, how about you just kiss my- erf!-” the collar of your shirt catches your nose- “kiss my butt!” You yank on the edge of the hem until your head pops free.
“Just kark off-” you mash on the control panel, and the door opens with a snap- “straight to- YIPES!”
You fling backwards.
“GET OUT!”
Face exploding with warmth, you press behind the door. “What the hell! Can’t you knock?! I’m in my underwear, for Maker’s sake!”
Your shrieks are met with silence… so you peer around the corner…
Your wide eyes are greeted by the back of your Mandalorian intruder, the ends of his cape still twirling around at his heels from his own startled spin.
“Din, get OUT!” you hiss, ducking back behind the frame. You pull on the ends of your shirt, fighting to cover the bare skin of your thighs.
A strained, modulated groan slips around the doorframe.
“….d…r -s unl-ked.”
“What!?” you squeak, head ducking around to gawk at him. “Stop garbling, Djarin! I can’t-”
“Your door was unlocked!”
His words are sharp, strained.
“Anyone c-could have come in while you were showering and- and-”
“-Go away!”
You pat around the refresher counter, fingers gripping the closest thing within reach, and you hurl it-
“Out!”
“I can’t- Ka’r’ika! Is-… fresher paper?”
You bend around the door, watching as his gloved hands pick at the ribbon of white paper trailing across his shoulder.
You can’t help but grin.
“You look like shit, Mando.”
“Damn it, girl,” he grumbles, so low you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear it. “Can- can I… Dank Ferrik. Can I turn around now?”
“Blast it- no! Go away! I’m in my underwear!”
“What are you wearing underwear for-”
“Why am I wearing underwear? Did you really just-”
“I- I didn’t mean-”
“Some of us sleep in our underwear, Din! Gosh! What- do you sleep in your armor or something?”
...
“Oh my Maker. You sleep in your armor.”
...
“…No.”
...
A smirk quirks at the corner of your mouth, and you’re grateful he cannot relax at its sight. Stars, you take too much pleasure in making him squirm…
“Y-you’re not staying in here alone-” his voice strains- “not with hunters-”
“I’m safe-”
“-get in the bed.”
…
You blink.
…
His hands rise to his waist.
“Get in the bed.”
“Hmf.” You purse your lips. “Yes, karkin’ sir.”
Sticking your tongue out for good measure, you spin on your heel to sweep your pants up from the floor.
“Gosh,” you grumble, sticking a leg in as you hop one-legged towards the bed. You glance down at the print on your underwear. “I hope you didn’t get a good look- urg!” You lose your balance, slumping across the mattress.
“Wouldn’t want this to be the way you find out I’m a horse girl…”
“What?”
“What?”
…
…
“…nothing.”
You hook the last button of your pants. “I guess you’re free to spin around now.”
He hesitates- then turns at your words.
“Look at you,” you snort. “Creeping in that dark corner.” You slide both legs beneath the comforter, pulling it up to just beneath your chin. “I’ll never get any sleep if you lurk over there. I’ll wreck my bike tomorrow, and it’ll be all your fault.”
…
Heavy sigh.
The Mandalorian emerges from the shadow-shrouded corner, and he flicks his fingers out at his side.
“Better?”
“Hmf, fine.”
You crinkle your nose.
“You can stay, but don’t stare at me all night like some dang rakghoul-” you scooch forward, pulling the comforter up over your head like a scarf, only your face visible- “trying to scare me.”
-a puff of modulated air.
“You’re not afraid of anything.”
The Mandalorian lumbers forward, fingers hooked on his belt.
“And that’s what concerns me.”
He pauses right beside your head, visor angled down to stare into your eyes.
“Come now, Mando. You scared the shit out of me on Taek.” You dramatically flop out flat across the bed, letting the comforter crumble around your body. “Thought for sure you’d kill me for being annoying.”
…
“You were afraid of me?”
You let your weak smile speak for itself.
“Hmf.”
He re-hooks his fingers on his belt.
“Could have fooled me-” his voice is light, teasing- “you were a mouthy little thing.”
Mouthy.
Mouthy??
Oh, you can show him mouthy-
You part your lips to snot off at Din, but his hand extends, pats the crumpled comforter, ripping your response straight from your mouth. You watch, brow quirked, as he pulls, smooths out the comforter around you. His visor lifts-
Oh.
Oh Maker just cast you in the Pit of Carkoon-
He can be so kriffing thoughtful and it’s really hot and you want to die-
Lowering your eyes, you grunt, picking at a loose thread to distract from that familiar squeeze, that ache in your chest.
Stop-
Stop.
You can’t get mixed up with this man-
You’re… you’re not able to-
…Someone’s going to get hurt.
…
“I… I- uh- talk a lot when I’m nervous.”
…
He tilts his head at that.
“Fine!” You throw a hand up, swallowing quickly. “... And- and when I’m not.”
“Hmm.”
“Still-” you jab a finger towards him, eager to just talk, distract yourself from that familiar warmth blooming in your chest- “I’d rather have been killed by you in the desert than spend another day on Taek.”
With a groan reminiscent of a wounded Kath Hound, you roll over onto your stomach- away from the Mandalorian.
“Kriff, so many sand stingers!”
A second roll, this time pulling the comforter along with you.
“And you can’t even eat them!”
A third roll.
“And I would know.”
A fourth roll- you stop, satisfied with the level of burrito-wrapping you’ve achieved.
“I tried.”
The Mandalorian has the audacity to chuckle.
“My lips were swollen for two days-” you wiggle, freeing your arms from their burrito prison- “and you laugh?”
“Ah.”
A small, strangled cough slips through the modulator.
“Sorry.”
You try your best to look angry- but you can’t resist the cheeky grin.
“Well, anyhow,” you sigh, re-crumpling the comforter around your body like a nesting mother bird. “Thank the Maker you flashed that Beskar of yours around like a baited hook, reeling me in like a fish.”
“Hmf.”
The Mandalorian leans forward, hands on his hips- his body casting a light shadow across your cheek.
“You would have found a way off without me.”
Rolling your eyes, you can only huff, “Yeah, blasted, right.”
You plunge your face, your grimace deep within your pillow.
“Blast it- I was so damn hungry; I was this close-” you lift up two fingers held closely together- “to resorting to cannibalism.” Your hand drops with a plop.
…
Truth be told… you have always wondered if Toydarian tastes like Nuna…
Heh.
…
-The bed jolts.
Your head shoots up.
You blink.
…
The Mandalorian-
-sitting beside you.
Close.
Very… close.
“Din?” Your hands fumble with the tangled comforter. “Wh-”
“I’m sorry.”
His tone is…
Angry.
He turns away from you, striking his fingers against his thigh armor in rapid succession.
Your eyelashes flutter, taken completely off-guard by his harsh admission.
“Uh…”
You sit up straight, eyes glued to the gleam of his helm.
“What exactly for?”
Oh, kark, what did he do?
Did you forget you should be mad about something?
“I should have taken you back to the Crest-” his shoulders shrug forward- “…the night we made our deal on Taek.”
The Mandalorian stops tapping- balls the comforter into his fist.
…
You blink.
…
“Maker, Din!”
Flopping back, you slap your hands across both eyes.
That’s it? Damn man is fretting over that?
With a dismissive flick of your hand, you can’t help but snicker. “Oh, come on, even if you had asked me to, I would have just written my obituary first- left it behind for the sand stingers.”
Grinning ear to ear, you, again, gather the comforter up over your head like a protective cocoon-
-just like the child does with his blanket, now that you think about it…
“I must say though, Mandalorian, you could have at least lugged off those two dead dudes you killed.” Crinkling your nose, you narrow your eyes at Din as he shifts, eases back against the wall, observing your movements with careful attention.
“Leaving me all alone with dead people-” you cluck your tongue- “very improper of you, Mr. Djarin.”
The Mandalorian tucks his head aside.
“You weren’t alone.”
“Yeah, no kidding!” The comforter slips forward, consuming your head entirely and entombing you in darkness. Pushing against the quilt, attempting to free yourself, you continue, “I- erf- had two decomposing-”
“-I stayed.”
Your hands drop.
…
“The entire night... on the roof.”
…
“Oh.”
Oh.
…
You sit in darkness.
…
The bed shifts, tilting you towards the movement-
The comforter is flung off your head, and your squint is met by your own face reflected in the Mandalorian’s visor.
“Are you still afraid of me?”
His words are tentative, but you hear their teasing edge.
Fine.
He wants to play.
You can handle “play.”
It’s easier than the truth.
…
“No, Mando.”
~Yes, Mando~
“I’m not.”
~I am~
“My terror for you was eradicated from my head the moment I was assaulted by the sight of your revolting bedroom quarters.”
~My terror is you’ll learn the truth about what I am~
“Your hair might be exceptionally soft and astoundingly fragrant, as your hair conditioner collection would imply-” you tap a finger atop his helmet- “but you’re messy, Din.”
~Seven Corellian hells, my life is messy oh my stars~
…
Silence.
…
“Hmm.”
His head jerks to the side.
“You’re welcome to clean it-” he shifts forward- “if it offends you.”
A smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth.
“I’d probably find something sentient growing in a dirty sock pile.”
The Mandalorian chuckles- a rumble… deep, low.
He leans forward-
-and you scuffle to the other side of the bed.
“S-Stars! Uh, well, enough about my fears. Um, tell me-” you let your feet dangle off the side of the bed opposite from him- “what scares a Mandalorian?”
Uhg.
You tried to force a light-hearted tone; pull on one of your phony masks- but…it seems the longer time goes on-
-the more it’s impossible to pretend with Din.
This… is bad.
Especially when you have as many damn secrets to keep as you do.
You can’t help but cringe.
Kriffin’ dune worm on a stick!
Cautiously, you sneak a quick glance over your shoulder, finding Din’s position on the bed unchanged. He stares down at his hands as if lost, buried within his own thoughts.
“I’m-”
He pauses.
…
“I’m afraid of making the wrong choices...”
…
“Not being strong enough to protect... who I care about.”
…
…
Your lips part.
Well.
…
A light-hearted question.
A serious answer.
You take a deep breath, letting it steady, refocus your spiraling, spinning mind.
“Din,” you mumble, throwing his name over your shoulder. “If… if this is about the baby...”
Stars, the baby.
…
Hell… you- you can’t have this conversation right now.
How do you-
Do you just-?
“The- the responsibility of a child-” you reach up; rub your browline with trembling fingers- “it’s the single most…”
You pause.
“Th-the single most-”
…
terrifying-
exhilarating-
rewarding-
punishing-
fulfilling-
painful-
you- you can’t breathe-
“Ka’r’ika?”
You jolt forward at your name.
“Ka’r’ika, are you-”
“Being a parent-” put on your mask put on your mask- “you feel so… big and so… small.”
Dank Ferrik…
“You’re too small to forge the galaxy you want for them, no matter how much you fight for it.”
Your hand slips beneath your shirt, clenching the pendent you wear close to your heart. “But you’re big, so big- you’re everything to them- their whole galaxy.”
Your eyes slide shut.
Her- her voice will come back to you if you just stay quiet and- and-
…
“Mama, what this for?”
Even your excruciating exhaustion can’t suppress your grin. “Your belly button?” With a grunt, you lift Valera up from the cot, placing her down atop your legs.
“Well, you little womp rat… uh…”
Stars, how do you explain this to a kid?
“It’s… uh… how you ate food when you were growing in my tummy.”
She shoots you an incredulous little eyebrow lift.
Oh great-
She’s already picking up your sass.
Serves you kriffin’ right.
Your fingers wrap around the pendant hanging from Valera’s neck.
“Watch the attitude, kid.”
You give the necklace a few short tugs, sending her into a fit of giggles.
“Mama!”
“Ka’r’ika?”
Oh!
You jerk around-
-Din.
“Is something… wrong?”
“Yeah- uh, yeah.” You cough- clear your throat. “I just, dang it-” you slap your thigh- “get emotional thinking about little kids, ya know? So darned cute, the little monsters.”
He’s… not convinced.
But he doesn’t push it.
That’s… all you need from him right now.
“Look, Din. I- I know you’ll make the decision you think is right for the kid…” You lower your voice- make it easier to hide the waver. “It’s- it’s all we can do.”
...
“But you don’t… approve of my choice.”
No.
You don’t.
“I stand by everything I said before... mostly.” Your eyes lower, glaring down at the comforter. “Just make sure you aren’t making the choice to send him to a Jedi out of fear... fear of not being good enough for him.”
…
You glance back up.
“Because you are.”
...
“Ka’r’ika…”
So soft.
He always says it so soft-
“Your opinion…”
His visor dips away, almost bashfully.
“It means a lot to me.”
You blink.
“Really? Mine?”
It certainly didn’t feel that way during your argument on the Crest…
Sliding his fingers across the leather of his belt, he makes a slight choking sound.
“I… regret the things I said to you before.”
…
“I- you were saying things I didn’t want to hear...”
He turns, stares over at you.
“You’re not selfish.... far from it.”
You hold his gaze.
That damn daze.
…
“Well...” you mumble. “I shouldn’t have blown up on you either. I- I let my personal bias cloud my head and heat my tongue...”
You break the gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
…
Silence.
…
Oh stars.
You shouldn’t do it.
…
You’re gunna do it.
“Well, Mando-” energy floods your voice- “I’m flattered you hunted me down and killed a Rancor just to apologize to me.” Crawling beneath the comforter, you don’t fight the smirk cracking across your face
“Truly, Din, it means the galaxy to me.”
You scooch over further, further until-
“W-what are you-”
“Shut up.” You shove a hand into his side. “I’m trying to sleep.”
You lean against his arm, your head drooping down…
…
…
“Din.”
…
…
“Din.”
…
“Oh my gosh, kriffin’ relax, Din!”
You pull away from him. “Stop tensing! It’s like trying to sleep next to a blasted boulder!”
“It is not.”
“Loosen up!”
“I am loose.”
Oh.
You know how to loosen him up.
You jump up to your knees, staring him down.
“Hand. Now.”
…
The Mandalorian gawks at you. Or, at least, you imagine he’d be gawking if it weren’t for the, ya know, helmet.
“Din Djarin.”
You shove your open palm at him.
“Let me hold your damn hand.”
One breath-
…
Two breaths-
…
Three breaths-
His hand, warm and- kark!- so damn large, slips into your own.
“If I die tomorrow-” you give his hand a tight squeeze- “I want you to remember me like this.”
He grunts.
“Domineering and demanding?”
“You know I can hear you.” Rolling your eyes, you sigh dramatically, “As I was saying, remember me like this.” You squeeze his hand a second time-
He returns the squeeze-
“Maybe I’d rather remember the time you fell into that mud-hole on Arvala-” his free hand reaches out- tugs on your ear lobe- “and I had to pull you out while the kids laughed at us.”
You whack away his hand. “Oh, come on, Din-”
“Or maybe I’d rather remember the time you sang to the Blurgs.”
“I was bullied into tha-”
“Or the time you fell asleep in my shirt- drooled all over it.”
“Kriff off! I did not.” You yank on his hand, drawing him forward. “How would you even know?” You lean into him, squishing your nose to his visor.
“You never-
do-
your-
karking-
laundry.”
…
Din just chuckles.
Oh oh Maker his chuckle is so sexy and damn it damn it-
…
You’ve… you’ve got it bad.
Crinkling your nose, you pull away, sinking down- down- down into the comforter. “Well, you’re being mean to me. I’m going to bed.”
A… thought occurs.
…
Oh, Banthabreath.
Life is short. Do it.
“Din?”
Your eyes twist, staring up into his visor from where you lay on the bed. He watches; does not break the gaze as you reach out- grab his hand again. With a sharp tug, his glove slips right off, revealing- stars- that hand, those fingers that have haunted your daydreams since they first brushed across your lips.
Warm.
Callused.
Scarred.
Oh Maker.
If you’re losing it over a blasted hand and voice- a kneecap reveal would have you deceased.
You sigh.
“Din, tell me- uh…”
Naked skin dusts across your jaw- “Uh… Din?” -traces your earlobe- “Do- do you really plan to, uh…” -trails down your neck- “…s-stay all night?”
-his fingers pause at your collarbone.
…
“Yes.”
He resumes stroking his fingers slowly, languidly across your collarbone.
“Humor an old man, Ka’r’ika.”
You blink at him.
Old?
Huh.
Now that he mentions it…
“How old are you?” you blurt.
He freezes.
…
Oh, you just killed the mood, didn’t you?
…
Dank Ferrik.
“I’m just curious.” You lift a brow, a slight smile upon your lips. “You do grunt and groan a lot.”
The Mandalorian makes a sharp noise- tears his hand away.
“Young enough to pull you out of mud holes.”
…
You narrow your eyes at him.
…
“…Late thirties.”
Ah.
“Sorry,” you chuckle, shoving against his shoulder. “Just trying to construct a mental image of how I think you might look.”
Din huffs- crosses his arms across his chest like a sullen child.
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Come on, it’s not like I’ll ever see it!” You jump up to your knees. “I should at least be allowed to imagine.”
“I could never live up to your fanatical imagination, Ka’r’ika.”
“What, are ya ugly or something?”
“…No.”
“Are ya hot?”
“Hardly.”
“Oh my gosh don’t say that about yourself.”
“You’ve never seen my face,” he grumbles. “You don’t know what I’m working with here.”
“Shut up.”
“The helmet is an improvement.”
“It is pretty sexy,” you laugh.
…
Silence.
Oh kriffing hells-
Did you just say-
Oh stars-
…
You hope you die tomorrow.
Shaking your head, you snort. “Fine. Whatever.”
-just change the topic change the topic-
“Uh, so, uh, tell me-” you lean in closer to him- “what does Ka’r’ika really mean? You can’t lie to me anymore- I know it doesn’t mean brat.”
“You’re right.”
He, too, leans forward-
“It means pain in the ass.”
“DIN DJARIN!”
The comforter launches over your head, plunging you into darkness. You kick and roll and yell- the comforter and sheets tangling up around you- but you can’t get free-
-because the kriffing metal idiot is holding it down.
“Let me OUT!” you shriek, kicking upwards with your feet. “I’m going to KILL YOU!”
Weight lifts from the comforter.
You fling it off, and your flaming eyes immediately turn towards-
“So, you’re going to kill me?”
Damn that smug voice!
Your hand shoots out, a sharp smack landing against his unarmored thigh.
“Ouch!”
“Eat. Banthashi- OOF!”
You’re catapulted backwards- heaved across the bed. You roll, landing up on all fours.
“Why YOU-”
“Go to sleep.”
-smack-
“DJARIN!”
You grip your ass.
“Did- did you just spank…?”
…
Oh.
Oh, it’s on now-
You fling up, firing yourself at his chest, bursting into shrieks as he easily knocks you aside.
“HEY!”
But the Mandalorian goes for you this time.
His hands grasp your hips, shoves you back behind him. You pounce again- wrap your limbs around his back- you’re yanked forward with an oof. You retaliate, jabbing your hand towards his exposed side- he grabs, stops you- but then-
His arms have you pinned- trapping you against the bed with his weight.
“G-give u-up now, bounty hunter!” You wriggle; his grip only tightens. “I-I’ve- erf- got you, Mando!”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak…. just… stares down at you.
“Yeah.”
He dips his helmet to the side.
"You’ve got me.”
…
You both burst into giggles.
“Hell, M-Mando!” you say, gasping for air between your giggles. “I’m- stars!- crying!”
"Hm.”
A light -pat- smacks against your thigh.
“Go to sleep.”
Your grin stretches ear-to-ear. “Yes, sir.”
…
Oh Maker, you’re really done for.
You quiet your laughter, shimmying back beneath the comforter, keenly aware that you might regret every bit of this impulsive behavior in the morning…
But for now?
You roll up against the Mandalorian, curling up against his side. You tuck your face-
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
His hand drops to your shoulder- moves up- stops… a tickle against the back of your neck, his fingers tracing tiny circles…
“Ka’r’ika.”
"Mhm? What? Leave me alone.”
….
“It means… ‘Dear Star’.”
…
Oh-
Oh.
...
Oh shit.
“Sweet dreams… Ka’r’ika.”
----------------------------
“See you later, Babycakes.”
“Bye, Cara!”
“The hell-” you shoot Pablo an incredulous look- “Babycakes?”
“What?”
“Please don’t answer to that in public.”
“It’s too late,” Pablo sighs, turning your racing helmet over in his hands. “I’ve answered to it twice today.”
A small smirk tickles your lips.
“Then can I call you Sweetcheeks?”
“Oh, I think the hell not-”
“Fine,” you chuckle, taking a pinch of his cheek. “Sweetcheeks it is.”
“I hate you.”
A grin cracks your face. Hey now, if he can call you Sweetheart, you can call him Sweetcheeks.
It’s only fair.
With a heavy sigh, Pablo shoves the helmet back into your hands. “Well, guess it’s back up to Thall’s skybox for me. I- uh-” his hand shoots out, pats your shoulder- “…Don’t die.”
“Pablo, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You press a hand to his chest. “I knew you cared.”
“Yeah, well,” Pablo sighs, knocking your hand off his chest. “I’ll admit, my motivations are sullied… I might have credits down on you.”
“Oh karkin’ dunes.”
“Karkin’ dunes, what?” He throws out his hands. “That’s good! It means I believe in you!”
“Kark you.”
But your smile betrays your words.
Pablo laughs- flashes you a quick wink before turning away. “Now go- win me some credits, Sweetheart,” he yells over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to a casino and let you spend them!”
“Love you, too, Sweetcheeks!”
“Love you more!”
“You answered to it!”
“… Damn it!”
…
Heh.
Pablo really is just-
-“LINE UP WARNING.”
Oh stars-
-“REPEAT. LINE UP WARNING.”
Oh stars oh stars oh stars-
Groaning like a dying Bantha, you press a gloved hand to your browline.
Hell, that cocky, confident little shit you were as a teen?
…
Yeah, you’re not so confident right now.
“I know you’ll win-”
You spin around.
“-you always did.”
“Tesen,” you say, reaching out to accept his hug. “Dank Ferrik, man! I looked over my old speederbike this morning and- wow- you really did a fantastic job on her!”
Maker- the trouble you got into on that old bike… How are you even still alive?
Tesen chuckles- a rumble beneath your cheek. “After you disappeared, others tried taking her out on runs. But only you could get her to do the things she’s capable of.”
He pulls back.
“I kept her for the memories.”
A cheeky grin bursts across your face. “You know I’d trust no one else but you with her.”
His eyes brighten, and he opens his mouth to-
-“LINE. UP. WARNING.”
Groaning, you stare up into Tesen’s eyes.
“I’d wish you luck-” he winks- “-but I know you don’t need it.”
“Maybe not....” A coy smile turns up your lips. “But I could still do with my traditional good luck kiss. As my friend, would you mind… since Gavon isn’t here anymore to do me the honor?”
Tesen laughs- deep, hearty-
“Well, I am a good friend.”
He bends down- hesitates- hovering just above your face-
“Tesen, yo-”
Warm lips press to yours.
Oh hell yeah-
You wrap your arms around his waist.
Gosh, you’re pathetic. One friendly little kiss, and those cocky, confident teenage vibes are pulsing through your bloodstream.
Pretty sure you could wrestle a dewback…
“Aww! How sweet!”
Pulling away, you grit your teeth at Thall’s voice booming over the loudspeaker. Your eyes shoot up to the sky.
Stars, you could kill that man…
“Hello, hello everyone!”
Tesen tears away from you- meeting your eyes one final time before sweeping away-
-leaving you all alone.
Just you and your bike.
To win this dang race.
Or die.
At this point, if your friends didn’t need you to actually- you know- win, you’d accept either outcome.
“As we all know, one half of our kissing duo down there-”
“We’re just friends!”
“-is none other than our long-lost Blazing Womprat-”
The nickname snaps you into gear.
Oh yeah.
Time to play the part.
-“former champion of the Boska Springs Classic!”
Climbing up on your speederbike, you stand on the seat, throwing both hands in the air. You stare up into the cameras defiantly, as if you’d already won the kriffing race.
You wave your hands again, the crowd exploding into jests and cheers and shouts.
Dank Ferrik-
You swallow back the goofy grin itching to bloom across your face.
-don’t ruin your image.
You know you must play the part they expect to see on the circuit.
Blazing Womprat-
Brash.
Arrogant.
And batshit crazy.
Maker, how you missed this- this rush. Whether it be racing, singing, or otherwise, you love playing to the crowd…
And they’re eating it up.
“E CHU TA!”
Well…. almost everyone…
You sneer down at your fellow racers, observing their rather rude gestures.
“EAT MY BIKE EXHAUST-”
Your middle fingers jab at the sky.
“-YOU ABSOLUTE ROAD WORMS.”
The racers start towards you-
“How exciting! Back to your bikes… yes, thank you, yes, please don’t kill her… thank you!”
Snickering to yourself, you fall down into the seat, hooking your boots in position on the pedals.
“The race is simple enough- first out to the Castle Rock to run up their flag and back, wins!”
You slip your helmet on-
“I don’t care what path you take-”
You tug at your gloves, ensuring they’re snug between each finger-
“Nor do I care what you do during the race!”
You flip down the visor of your helmet, your entire head and face protected-
“It’s all part of the fun!”
You lean forward- gripping the steering-
“Now, various organic beings… start your engines!”
-and your speederbike roars to life, pulsating beneath your body like a caged racehorse ready to run.
…
Wait-
…
It… just hit you…
Din- he-
-he never showed up.
…
Why would he avoid you, especially before an event this serious? Sure, he was… strange, aloof this morning just before he left you. But to be honest, so were you.
Waking up tangled in each other’s arms tends to do that.
…
Hells… if- if your behavior last night… ruined your friendship with him…
Oh stars, you’ll never forgive yourself.
He… but he promised that he’d speak to you before the race…
…
He never showed.
He never-
“Ka’r’ika-”
You scream-
“Hey, it’s me.”
“What the kark, Mando!” You lean back, twisting your helmet around to stare up at the crowd. “Get out of my helmet! You’re ruining my focus.”
You grin.
The Mandalorian kept his word… sort of.
“Sorry… just…”
You stare up at Thall’s skybox, the teasing gleam of Beskar vaguely visible through the glass.
“…stay safe.”
The static of the connection cuts.
…
You’re alone.
…
…
“READY…”
Your engine revs-
RED LIGHT-
Your bike pulsates-
YELLOW LIGHT-
Your grip tightens-
…
…
…
Wait a minute…
…
GREEN LIGHT-
The speederbikes burst into the distance- gone, out of sight within a blink of an eye.
…
You stay still.
Unmoving.
Staring out at the distance.
“Uhhhh…. Go?”
You stare.
You feel it…
You… feel it…
You-
The wind lashes, nearly knocking you from your bike with a yelp. You hold on for dear life as the crowd screams, ducking down into their own seats to avoid the brutal pounding.
But more importantly-
The sky darkens in the distance-
A monstrous dust cloud swoops across the sand-
-straight for the scattered bikers blasting across the dunes.
And-
you grin.
High-pitched screams and crashing metal reverberate across the dunes.
…
…time to go.
You push forward-
-and blast off.
…
Avoiding the starving, all-consuming dust cloud, you swing to the right.
It’s a risky route.
But you’ve studied it.
You know what you’re doing…
…hopefully.
Movement catches your eye-
A miniature speederbike zooms up to your right- a creature no bigger than the baby just- screeches at you.
“What the fuck!”
A second bike smashes into your left.
“What the fuck!” you shriek, swinging to avoid another swipe.
You accelerate- push forward on the controls.
Get away get away-
Ah!
There- looming in the distance.
The cliffs.
Turning knobs with a snap, you hold your speed steady- maintaining your direction-
“OOF!”
The end of your speederbike slides to the right- the attacking biker heaves back- preparing to try again-
You blast forward-
-straight for the cliff walls.
You release a bark of laughter- the sound swallowed by the wind whooshing past.
Try following me now.
The cliff wall looms closer- closer- closer-
You drop to the right, hanging off the side of your bike as far as you can without falling off-
-shooting beneath the cliff walls and straight into a small cave that’s barely tall enough for even your bike to fit.
The handles of your bike scrape the rock formation looming mere inches above your head- you yelp at the sparks showering your body.
Well, thank the Maker this jumpsuit is fireproof…
Movement-
Your head twists to the right-
That karkin’ little creature on his karkin’ little speederbike… grins at you- waves his hand as if to say “See? I fit, dumbass.”
You growl.
Oh, hell no.
…Approaching light.
You bust out of the cave, shooting straight up in your seat. You swing to the right- kick your foot out-
-the little creature flings into oblivion.
…
You’re alone again.
You push forward, gritting your teeth, and accelerate to full throttle.
You’re coming to an intersection in the path- this is where other racers might start to- ah! There!
Three bikes, crowding into one another, swerve around a column of boulders-
The lead speederbike trails straight for you.
Oh, Dank Ferrik.
Not again-
You scream as your speederbike lurches- rolls into tight, spinning loops. The bike that smashed into you barrels past-
You grit your teeth.
Get back here, you little-
You ram the back of his bike, grinning as he flings forward over his handlebars- run over by his own bike.
And yours.
Oopsie.
Castle Rock is approaching- it should be directly to the left- on the opposite side of the cliff wall blocking your line of sight.
You cut the corner- the roar of the remaining speederbikes still howling in your ear.
You punch the booster controls on your bike- but…
You’re painfully aware of a new shake, a new tremor of the bike that wasn’t there before.
Oh dear…
Hope this doesn’t backfire- literally.
With a groan, you blast into the canyon between the cliffs- giving your bike all it’s got.
Your mind blanks-
Instinct.
…
You’re running on instinct.
You swerve to the left- right- sharp right-
The roar of the speederbikes fade into the distance, left completely in your dust.
Heh.
The Blazing Womprat lives up to her name.
Oh, heck, here we go-
-You need to take a sharp left up ahead or you’ll completely miss Castle Rock-
You lift your left boot from the pedal- slide it across your seat- throwing every bit of your weight into the turn.
Your grip starts to slip- gloves desperately hold on for dear life. With a pathetic groan, you straighten, lift-
-There, Castle Rock!
And not another bike in sight.
You hit the brakes, sputtering to a stop. The thunder of engines storm in the distance behind you- you leap from your seat-
And you run for dear life.
The flags- the flags! Up ahead! At the top!
With a grunt, you scurry, fumble your way up the boulders-
“Get out of my way!”
Your head shoots back- other bikers have arrived, parked at the base of Castle Rock.
Oh, you don’t think so…
“Oops!” You grunt, shoving hard at a loose rock with your boot. “Sorry!” you yelp as they leap out of the tumbling rock’s path, screaming at the top of their lungs.
Giggling beneath your breath, you scamper to the top, the flagpoles just within r-
-PING-
-PING-
You scream- a bullet ricochets off your helmet.
“Seven Corellian hells!” you screech, stumbling to the ground.
Tuskans!
Damn it!
You clamber to your feet, pushing forward with all your might.
Bullets shower the ground, the pings mixing with the yelps of your fellow racers. “Kark off!” you scream at a Weequay as he barrels past you-
then drops dead.
Well, he karked off, all right.
Nice shot, Tuskans.
Not slowing in the least bit, you snatch up your flag color, hooking it to the-
“OOPS… heehee!”
You gasp- a Rodian- he… he cut your flagline.
You snarl at his fleeing back.
…
Fine.
Sticking the flag between your teeth, you grip the pole with your hands and begin to climb. Dank Ferrik- what the hell even is this race?
Ignoring the pings flying around you and praying they miss, you reach the top and tie off your flag.
A bell rings.
Done.
You’re first.
You’re cleared to go.
With a pained sigh, you take advantage of your height to observe the sight down below.
Grinning at the scuffle, the fight breaking out between the racers all fumbling to avoid both bullets and one another’s sabotage…
…an idea occurs.
You reposition your weight, careful to not lose your grip and slip down the pole into the chaos below… One deep breath… and you leap the gap, clasping onto the second flagpole for dear life.
“Hey!”
You stare down at a furious Twi’lek.
“Get down!”
You grin.
“Okay!”
Biting your lip, you wrap the flagline one… two… three times around your glove, tugging to ensure a good grip.
Oh, this is the dumbest idea ever-
With a grunt, you release the pole and-
You swing forward- and back- forward- and back-
…screaming like a wild Lothcat in heat.
With each swing, you feel the pole shift beneath you, loosening from its shallow base.
“WHAT ARE YOU-”
“Yipe!”
With an audible snap, the pole breaks from its foundation- cascading to the ground…
…and taking every single flagpole to the right down with it.
With an oof, you hit the ground, hard. Peeling your head up with a groan, you turn-
…
“Get her!”
Time to go.
You jump- jump- jump- down the boulders, not bothering to check the height. You just gotta to get the kriff out of there.
You’re so close.
Flinging yourself across the seat, you blast into the horizon, straight in the direction of the starting line.
You’re so close-
Engines rev in the distance.
…
You’re so close.
Thumb hovering over your thrusters- a speederbike emerges in the distance-
…it’s time for a shortcut.
A cliff to your right, it’s a steep drop, but you think you can…
Gritting your teeth, you accelerate, pushing what power is left within your bike into- you scream, sailing straight over the edge of the cliff.
Your thumb punches the reverse boosters, keeping your bike from smashing into a thousand pieces on the ground below. Speederbike clattering and clanking from the stress, you hit level ground and-
You made it.
“Holy Hutt!” you groan, the words shaky in the air from the brutal reverberations of your engine.
You’re… you’re going to win.
You keep your path straight, flying over the sand dunes.
You’re going to win.
You’re going to-
You scream-
A force-
A burst of light-
You soar through the air-
You scream-
…
…
…
Darkness.
…
----------------------------
…
…
Ignoring the abrupt shock of the harsh Sularian winter air, you race from your home, running straight down the mountain path.
"Starlight?”
You don’t stop at your father’s voice. You run faster- swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks.
“Starlight!”
A hand grabs at your shoulder.
“Let m-me go!” you yell between your sobs, shoving at his hand. “I-I’m going to l-live wi-with G-Grandpa!”
“Hey, little one-” he spins you around; pulls you into his chest- “deep breaths, hm?”
“I’m- I’m not… little!” You sniff, pushing away from him. “I’m ten and r-running away!”
"Can I come?”
…
You stare at him, the sobs easing from your body.
“Huh?” -sniff- sniff- “What?”
He plops down on the snow beside you- staring up at the stars dusting the sky.
“Running away doesn’t solve anything, Starlight-” he looks at you, flashes you a lop-sided smile- “you know that, right?”
You pout your lips.
“But Mama is so… so… unfair!” You stomp your foot and flop down beside him. “She’s so mean with me! She likes Kalara more!”
He doesn’t chastise your outburst.
He just… grunts- rests his rifle across his lap.
"Starlight.”
You keep your eyes turned to the ground, shame burning your cheeks.
"What happened?”
…
“I… I hit Kalara- but she said I was mean first! And Mama took her side!”
…
A heavy sigh.
He reaches down, grasps your pendant in his hand.
"Do you know why you wear this?”
You scrunch your nose at him. “Because I’m the ‘oldest’,” you mock.
He lets it drop back against your chest. “Watch the attitude, kid. You wear it because, as the oldest-” his tone, while gentle as always, eases into something more serious- “you set an example to your little brothers and sisters. They look up to you and want to be like you.”
“They do not!”
“Do too.” He pokes your stomach, and you can’t help but giggle. “This necklace is a reminder of your responsibility…” His mouth quirks into a smirk. “Of your influence.”
"I don’t want it!”
“Well, Starlight,” he chuckles. “I can’t help you being born first, but I promise, one day, you’ll appreciate your little brothers and sisters.” He hooks a finger on his belt. “And one day, you’ll give that same pendant to your first born, if you wish, just as generations of our family before you have.”
“Eww!”
“Eww!” he mocks back.
You blink down at the pendant, curiosity blooming in your chest…
"If this was yours before I was born and you gave it to me-” you look up at him- “does that mean you were the oldest?”
He stares into the distance, quiets…
…
“Yes.”
…
“Oh.”
…
"Did… did you apr-chi-ate them?”
"‘Appreciate’. And yes.” He looks down at you, that lop-sided smile slowly returning. “I did very much.”
"…Do you miss them?”
He glances away, stares up into the starry sky.
“Very much.”
You blink- a wash of fear- fear for your brothers and sisters hitting you like a blizzard breeze and- and-
“Don’t be sad, Starlight.” He taps your pendant; points to the sky. “They are with the stars… I’ll see them again.”
He stands, heaves his rifle against his shoulder, and motions you to follow.
“Come, let’s go inside. I think someone has a few apologizes to make?”
“But Mama is mad at me…” you groan.
“I promise,” he chuckles, taking your hand in his own. “No matter what you do…”
…
“…your mother and I will hold you in our hearts…”
…
“…for eternity…”
…
…
…
--------------------------
The Mandalorian’s licking your face what the HELL-
Your eyes blast open-
“W-what?”
Something wet swipes your eyes. “Yipes!” You squint, throwing your arm across your face. “What the blasted- oh.”
…
A… dog.
Massiff dog.
…
Not… Din.
…
Oh.
The dog tilts his head at you, his tongue drooping out the side of its mouth.
“In my defense, you kinda look like Din though,” you giggle, patting the dog’s hard exterior. “You goofy little thing…”
Sighing, you reach up to rub your face…
Wait.
Where- where’s your helmet’s visor…? Why’s it… busted out…?
…
…
“OH BLASTED STARS.”
You scramble to your feet- a mistake. You cry at the pain that shoots, throbs from head to toe. “Damn it, damn it!” you groan, hobbling forward as your memory floods you all at once.
The dog mistakes your agony for playtime, hopping up and down, up and down, dancing little wiggle-butt circles around you.
“Back, dog! Back!” Your eyes scan the sky-
…Oh no.
It’s… the sun’s setting.
It’s evening.
No, no!
“Kriffin’ hells!” you moan, fingers digging into your palms. “My bike! My bike? I got to- where?”
…
There.
In the distance.
You grit your teeth.
…
…Sandcrawler.
“Stupid JAWAS!”
You burst forward, growling through every last ache. “Get BACK here!” you shriek, launching your helmet at the still-very-much-far-away sandcrawler. “Little thieves! I ought to- OOF!”
The dog cuts in front of you, dashing alongside your right.
“Dang it!” you yelp. “If you’re coming too, then help, not hinder!”
The dog just howls- gleeful and blissfully unaware of everything but “run. fast run.”
“Oh, Maker help me,” you moan.
You’re close enough now that the Jawas have noticed you. Hanging out of their little windows and doors, they begin screeching at you.
“Kark off!” you scream back, nearly tripping over your own feet. “And give me my blasted bike, or I’ll- OUCH!”
Whatever they threw- it damn well hurt.
…You shoulda left your helmet on.
The dog picks up the object in its mouth and brings it straight to you.
“O-oh… st-stars!” you puff, increasing your speed. You throw the object at a Jawa hanging from an open window. “H-hey, dog, maybe you are useful, hmm?”
Your praise must have confused the dog. He yelps once, turns around, begins running butt-first.
“Oh hell.”
Close enough now, you reach up, grip a pipe on the side of the crawler.
“Open, now!” you demand, banging on the metal.
A slot opens- you slap at the Jawa- it screams- slams the slot shut.
A higher window opens- something’s launched- you scream- it screams- the window shuts.
You wish you could say playing whack-a-mole with Jawas was the strangest thing you’ve done today…
“Dank Ferrik,” you groan, eyeing the Massiff dog running circles below your feet.
You’re getting into this thing if it kills you, so help you-
“Dank FERRIK!”
The jolt of the sandcrawler sends you hurling towards the ground.
“Force…”
You slowly, gingerly lift your head…
Stopped.
The sandcrawler… stopped.
…
Why…
You look up- the Jawas have the slots and windows peaked open, glancing around towards the front of the crawler…
…
They slam them shut.
…
Uh oh…
“Dog, I… I think we might be in trouble- wait!”
But it’s too late- the Massiff dog is darting towards the front of the crawler.
…
Silence.
…
Oh, what the hell.
You’re not leaving without your dog.
Pressing against the sandcrawler, you ease, creep your way forward. Closer… closer… closer-
-until you’re just one head peek away from seeing what’s caught the Jawa’s attention…
…
Do… do you peek?
Or run?
…
Oh Huttsludge.
Maybe the Jawas-
“I’ve been watching you, little one.”
OH STARS OH STARS STARS STARS.
…
WHAT DO YOU DO?
…
You squeeze your eyes closed.
Oh, what the Corellian crap use is there in hiding?
He’s knows you’re here!
So-
You peek around-
…
A man.
…
A terrifying man.
…
You duck your head back.
…
…
You’re dead.
…
“Hey!” you hiss up at a Jawa. “Whatever beef we had before, we’re on the same side now. Let me in!”
The door slams shut.
“Why you-”
“Hello there, Princess-”
You shriek.
“Stay away!” you yelp, pressing your back up against the sandcrawler. “Or I’ll- I’ll stick my Massiff on you!”
Right on cue, the Massiff bolts past your legs, flying straight for the strange man-
-and drops- wiggling around on his back, begging the scary man for attention.
…
Great.
The man huffs, bends down to pat the Massiff’s exposed belly.
“I see you’ve trained it well.”
…
“Thanks…?”
Wait, was that an insult?
…
“I mean you no harm, Princess.”
Amused.
He’s… amused.
The man glances up at you, throws his hood back.
My stars, you observe his gnarled appearance. What… what terrible thing happened to him?
You almost blurt the question… almost.
“Who are you? What’s your name?” you ask instead, rather empowered by the fact he hasn’t yet- you know- killed you.
“I’m just a simple man making my way through the galaxy-” his gaze intensifies- “like my father before me.”
…
“Got an easier to remember name?”
“I’d rather learn yours.”
…
Is he… flirting?
…
Oh my gosh he’s flirting. Okay, you know what? The grizzled look is actually really hot. Like hot, hot. And, wow, he’s a big guy and you like big guys oh my gosh he’s flirting-
With a lop-sided smirk, you call out your first name. “But you can keep calling me Princess.”
The man chuckles, pats the Massiff one last time, and stands.
“I was speaking to the dog.”
…
“Oh.”
Damn it.
…
You glance at the Massiff.
“…Noodles?”
“A solid name.”
“Thanks.”
…
Okay, what the actual hell is this conversation-
You shake your head, knowing you should be afraid, terrified... but in your defense, it’s rather hard to feel that way while bonding with your potential killer over a dog.
“So… uh, what the hell do you want?”
The man lumbers forward, hands folded behind his back, as if… contemplating something.
“Your Mandalorian friend-”
He pauses, his imposing frame casting a cool shadow across your face.
“-he has something that belongs to me.” The man turns his eyes, so kriffing intense, to stare you down.
“And you can take me to it.”
“Uhhh….” You blink, words escaping your brain. “What… is it?”
“My armor.”
…
“All I request… is my armor returned.”
Gulping, you shake your head, afraid to give him your honest answer. “I-I’ve not seen any armor, but-”
“You might want to consider my words carefully, little one.”
His words slice the air.
“You and the Mandalorian have a rather large bounty on your head.” The man bends down, crouches upon the sand. “According to this chip-” he lifts his hand; a small data chip gleams in the setting sun- “that I took off the corpse of the man… that blew you in the air.”
Your mouth plummets to the ground.
“W-what?!”
He just stares up at you, waiting patiently for you to process his words.
“Damn it,” you growl, sinking down to the ground in front of him.
“If- and that’s if- I knew where this armor might be located-” you look up at him, brows furrowing- “why should I trust that you won’t still try and claim that bounty on us?”
He doesn’t speak- just holds your gaze.
…
His fist holding the datachip rises in the air-
-and crushes the chip into a thousand microscopic shards.
“You and your friends need to leave before more return.”
You gape down at the shimmering shards.
Stars, note to self, do not piss this guy off…
“News of this race, and your presence, will spread to the wrong ears.”
“Uhh…” You turn to stare at the retreating figure of the man in black. “Hey! Wait!” You leap to your feet, rushing right after him. “See that’s the problem- my friends are kind of…. uh, trapped by Thall.”
The man makes a noise.
“I will assist you if-”
“-you regain your armor,” you finish, rolling your eyes.
The first hint of a smile dusts his lips.
“What is your answer, then, Princess?”
…It’s not like you have a choice.
Your friends… Din… are still under Thall’s snare. For all you know, now that you’re out of the way, Thall- kark!- might make Din fight again!
…
You can’t let that happen.
You throw both hands on your hips- purse your lips.
“We have a deal.”
The man nods sharply, accepting your answer before turning, prowling down the length of the sandcrawler.
“I have an insider feeding me information from within Thall’s complex.” His strides are heavy, yet quick. You struggle to keep pace. “She will contact me with the necessary information, but for right now-”
-a screech splits the air.
You gasp- twist-
The Massiff stumbles around from the back of the crawler-
-dragging a behind it a writhing Jawa.
…
The man in black grunts.
“We need your bike.”
----------------------------
You need to scream.
Of all ways for this day to go, you never dreamed it would be riding back to the Razor Crest sitting in a strange man’s lap.
Well, not in his lap… but might as well be.
You wanted to drive. After all, it is your bike, which was thankfully undamaged enough to still ride at lower speeds, but he didn’t exactly give you a choice… You press back against his chest, sneaking a sharp glance to the left and right, gulping at how blasted thick and strong his arms that have you caged in are…
Boba Fett.
At least you now have his name.
It’s the very least you should know, considering your current intimate positioning.
Boba’s hand releases the bike’s handle- grips your shoulder to steady your body as you turn-
Stars-
Stars this is so awkward and you want to fling yourself to the ground you don’t care how fast you’re going-
But if you did that, Noodles would have to go too, since he’s squatted on the seat in front of you, your arms wrapped tightly around his body to keep him from jumping off at high speeds. And no matter how much you’re willing to potentially threaten your own life, you draw the karkin’ line at endangering animals.
Noodles glances back at you, tongue flapping in the wind, as if to say thank you kind ma’am for the hug.
…
…
The sky is pitch black, the air cool, biting, by the time you arrive at Peli’s hanger. Almighty stars, it feels like centuries since you last saw… there!
The Razor Crest!
You can’t believe you’re actually home!
You pause.
Home?...
…huh.
Stars, you can almost imagine… Din. Standing at the base of the ramp. Head angled at you as you run forward, holding the baby-
…the baby. Din. Cara. Pablo. Kark.
You… you need to hurry.
“Let me find someone before you go inside-” you yank off your gloves, toss them aside- “and your armor should be inside the ship… somewhere- I guess-”
A shrill squeak rips the rest of the words from your lips.
“Baby!” you gasp. You rush forward, crumpling to your knees. “Hey, little fella!” Your voice shoots ten octaves high as you squeeze, squish the little guy to your chest.
“Hey, hey-” you whisper, rubbing his head as his little squeaks intensify.
Crying.
He’s… crying-
“I know, I know.”
Kriffing hells.
“You’ve been alone too long.”
Damn it, damn it.
You’re going to cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.
“But you’re not alone now, hmm?” You pull back, force a cheesy grin to stretch across your face. “See? I’m back. Did Peli take good care of you?”
“AHHHH!”
You press the baby close- spin-
“4PO!” Peli screeches, racing around the side of the Crest. “MASSIFF DOG! PROTECT US!”
The droid hobbles around- stops-
<sensing potential threat>
…
<commencing deactivation protocol>
…
“Oh, kriffing hells…”
You glance over at the hanger door, locating the deadly Noodles…
…all four legs in the air as Boba pats his belly.
He gives you a bare hint of a smile.
“Excellent.”
----------------------------
“Handsome little mister,” you sing, grinning ear-to-ear. “Gotta look snazzy to go rescue Daddy, hmm?”
The baby just stares at you, clearly unimpressed with his new threads.
“Come now. I’m the fun parent,” you laugh, straightening his little suspenders. “Tell you what, if you don’t like it by tomorrow-” you sit down beside him- “I promise I won’t make you wear it again. We’ll try something else I bought you in town.”
The baby grabs a sock off the table- throws it to the ground with a scream.
“Okay.” You quirk a brow. “We hate socks today, that’s fine.” You lean forward, pressing a quick kiss against his head.
The baby’s grabby hands reach up, begging to be held. Without hesitation, you lift him up and place him down in your lap.
“That nice man should be finished dressing soon,” you absentmindedly mumble, twisting your eyes to watch Peli buzz around the back of the hanger. “And then we’re going to- oh.”
A little tug around your neck pulls your attention back down-
The baby- he’s tugging on the twine of your necklace.
“Ah,” you chuckle, pulling the pendant out from beneath your shirt.
“You want to look?”
He stares up at you, into your eyes.
…
…
-pressure-
…
you feel…warm pressure-
…
it dusts against…
…
It’s… it’s like…. something’s pressing against a- a membrane…
….
-pressure-
…
-a thick membrane in your mind and-
…
w-what- is-?
Body trembling, you press back-
the membrane slips and- and-
…
“Mother?”
You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth.
Who..? Wh-what just-?
Something dusts your hand, and you jolt in your seat- eyes shifting down…
…
“Was… was that you?” you whisper, eyes blasting wide open.
The baby only giggles.
…
…
Oh kriff.
…
You flop back in the chair, stare up at the sky.
“Is this a… force thing?”
You’re speaking to yourself more than anything…
“Holy kark,” you groan, slapping your hands across your eyes. “…These kinds of powers are beyond my pay grade….”
Dank Ferrik, you knew you should have paid closer attention to your mother’s lessons… She was as close to an expert on the force as any Jedi, you suppose... Was it your fault you would rather be with your dad, learning how to effectively hit your siblings with stick spears? Mama damn near bored you to death with her long lectures of “light side energy.”
…Whatever that means.
See? You should have paid attention, Dank Ferrik!
The baby tugs on your necklace again.
You blink.
-pressure-
This time, you let the membrane slip right away.
“You are Mother?”
You just… stare.
“Feel force.”
…
“I, uh…”
“Feel her.”
…
His… his question-
Are you a Mother?
…
Emotion scalds the back of your throat.
…
“Yes…”
He… he feels her.
“This… this belonged to my little girl.”
The necklace-
…He feels her.
“A-and mine. And my father’s.” Your voice softens, affection dusting each and every word. “Going back generations.”
Swallowing down the lump, the ache squeezing in your chest, you force a tight smile.
-the warmth brushes against your mind-
-you open up- let him back in-
…
“Grogu.”
…
You blink-
“Grogu?”
He bursts into little squeals.
“Is that your name, Bean Dip? Grogu?”
The little toothy grin he flashes you is the only confirmation you need. Matching his grin with one of your own, you laugh- pull him close.
“Can I still call you Bean Dip sometimes?” you ask.
He doesn’t answer- instead grabs at your necklace again, studying it intently.
You can only… smile at his interest…
You… remember Valera doing the very same thing… grabbing at it- sticking it in her mouth- drooling all over it-
…
Hell.
…
…
“Hey, hey, Grogu-” your voice wavers- you clear your throat- “You know… I’m- I’m always losing things.”
Deep breath.
“Would you mind… keeping this for me?”
You slip the necklace over his head, letting it fall loose. You reach out, pat it against his belly.
…yes.
For the time being…
…this is where it belongs.
Ignoring your welling ache, you force another tight smile.
“I think-” you give the necklace a few short tugs- “it completes your ‘let’s rescue daddy’ outfit perfectly.”
…He agrees.
“Holy Mudslug!” Peli’s yelp tears at your attention. “Look at ‘em!”
You glance up-
-and your stomach squeezes.
…
Oh.
Oh no.
…
Mandalorian.
…
“Fett!” you bark, setting the baby down. You leap to your feet, stomp to the bottom of the ramp.
“You mean to tell me that you’re a Mandalorian?” You stare up at Boba defiantly, feet set apart and hands thrown on your hips. “And you just… forgot to mention that?”
Dank Ferrik! When Boba said “armor,” you assumed it was, like, biking armor or something.
…
But Beskar?
…Well…now you understand why he wanted it back so badly…
Boba doesn’t react to your little outburst- just… crosses his wrists in front of him, staring down at you with that damn unreadable visor.
“Oh! Great! Another Mandalorian,” Peli grumbles, sweeping past you, a broom gripped in her hand. “You know, my hanger was the safest place on Tatooine-” she shakes her broom at Boba- “until you Mandalorians started showing up!”
“Peli! Come now-” you grasp her broom, forcing her to lower it- “how many have you even serviced? Mandalorians are practically extinct.”
“Counting yours and this green guy?”
You nod.
Peli glances up at the sky, counting on her fingers.
“Two.”
…
“But I want him out of here!” she squawks- shoving a hand in the air at him.
“You’ll have your wish soon, ma’am.”
Amusement laces Boba’s deep tone- thank the Maker.
“And I am beholding to your…kind hospitality.”
“Weeellll,” Peli blushes, eyes darting around at the ground. “I- I guess it’s fine if you stay- but not much longer!”
Peli shoots you a glare and snatches her broom back from your hands. She jabs her thumb at the ship. “Watch him; he’s a big -un.”
…
Sigh.
…
Twisting back around, you frown at Boba's darkened visor.
“I thought Mandalorians didn’t show their faces?”
-a sharp huff.
“Never said I was one.”
You blink.
“Then… the armor…?”
“Mandalorians are complicated, Princess.”
…What the hecking Hutt does that mean? Is he or isn’t he one?
…oh.
…forget it.
Crossing your arms, you shift your weight to one leg.
“Well, what now?”
“My contact has informed me that your friends are to be taken to a location out in the desert- unsure why.” Boba hulks down the ramp, patting your shoulder as he passes by.
“Stars!” you groan, pulling your hat down low.
This… can’t be good.
Din…
Just… hold on, Din.
“I have the coordinates.” Loading his belt with charges, Boba steals a quick glance at you- noting your expression. “Don’t worry, little one,” he chuckles. “We’ll have your babysitter back in one piece shortly.”
“I can assure you,” you huff, a small smile teasing at the corner of your mouth. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Undoubtably.”
You release a pained sigh, flick your hat back out of your face.
“Well then, I guess it’s time to-” movement draws your attention; you turn just in time to watch Grogu slide the remaining pile of socks to the ground- “…go.”
“Hey, if you’re leaving-” Peli stalks forward, cleaning her hands with a rag. “I guess that means I won’t see the rest of you again, huh?”
You give Peli a wry smile.
Peli sighs, slaps the side of your arm.
“Do me a favor then.”
She scurries away, muttering under her breath.
…
“Uhhh… Peli?”
She turns back around the corner, arm motioning at something hidden behind a stack of crates.
“Come on- don’t be shy.”
…
Oh, hell no-
“I’ve decided to make the ultimate sacrifice-” Peli pushes 4PO forward- “and gift 4PO here as a parting gift-”
“No.”
-“to Pablo.”
“Oh.”
…
Peli leans into you- covers her mouth with a hand.
“I think the two of them really bonded.”
…
“Peli-” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into laughter- “I would be more than happy to present to Pablo 4PO on your behalf.”
“Oh ho! Fantastic!” Peli cackles, clapping her hands together. “Droid, get on up that ramp!”
4PO shakes- falls prostrate on the ground.
…
…
You’re beginning to relate a little too much to this droid.
…
----------------------------
“I’ll tie you up, Princess.”
“No!” You rush after Boba, pulling your blaster from its holster. “I’m going too! You can’t-”
“You want to help?” snaps Fett’s contact, a helmeted woman named Fennec. “Then stay out of our way.”
You sneer. “How about I-”
“Princess-”
Boba turns on his heel, grips your shoulder.
“Stay with the ship.” His tone is hard, biting. “And stay in this cave.”
…
“Do I make myself clear?”
…
Your mouth opens… closes.
Please…
Please just let me come.
But Boba is not the kind of man to relent to a pair of pleading eyes- he reaches out, nudges your chin with his knuckles.
“Keep your commlink on-” his voice is… softer, but nowhere near sympathetic- “and keep it close.”
And then just like that-
They’re gone, blasting away across the sand dunes.
Leaving you all alone in eerie…
Silence.
…
Corellian hells.
You crumple to the ground, your face buried in your hands. You inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tightly closed in a poor attempt to keep from absolutely losing it.
…
A fight to the death.
A fight to the death-
What if-
What if they don’t get there in time? What if someone’s already dead? Stars! Pablo is all bark and no bite- he’ll be the first to croak! And- and Cara- and Din, kark… damn it, damn it, damn. IT-
“ARG!” You leap to your feet, snarling up at the rising twin suns, as if they were somehow to blame for your mess.
Stay behind?
…
You blink.
Stay behind, your ass.
With one final glare, you spin around- marching back inside the mouth of the cave. You rush past Boba’s own starship- making a direct path towards the Razor Crest.
“Grogu!” you yelp, racing inside the belly of the Crest. “I’ve got to go, baby. Stay in this ship-” you fling open the Mandalorian’s storage unit packed with weapons- “and do absolutely nothing.”
Chewing on your lower lip, you let your eyes graze across Din’s pride and joys-
What the hell do some of these even do?
Which should you-
…
Oh.
You… you’ve seen that one before.
…
Your hand hesitates, then snatches the rifle from the rack.
“4PO-” you bark, loading your pockets with ammo. “Keep the ship on lockdown. You can manage that, hm?”
<lockdown protocol prevents killers from boarding.>
“That’s kind of the point of a lockdown,” you grumble, slamming the storage doors shut.
<excellent. your request is acceptable.>
You spin around on your heel, looking for-
“Grogu.”
There he is- sound asleep, little face buried against the Massiff’s belly-
-and your pendant clenched tightly in his hand.
…
Stay.
You should… stay for him.
If- if something happens to Din, he will need you.
…
He needs… he needs-
-hold on.
…
…Rumbling?
The ground outside the ramp is… rumbling- pebbles and loosened dirt sprinkling down from the cave’s ceiling.
Something’s flying overhead.
This… can’t be good-
With a miserable groan, you start forward, pausing just before the exit.
You glance back-
“We’ll all be back soon, Grogu, I promise.” You stare at the sleeping child’s form. He doesn’t so much as even stir at your words.
“And I mean all of us.”
…
“I promise.”
…
And with one final breath, you run down the ramp- the baby left behind, cocooned within the belly of his home.
Dashing forward, you emerge from the mouth of the cave just in time to catch fleeting sight… of…
…
-a hitch, a catch in your breath.
…
…
Damn it.
…
…
Th-the symbol on that ship-
You… you only caught a brief glimpse, but…
…
Shit.
…
Nok.
Kriffing Nok is here?
You- you have to leave Tatooine.
-kriffing now.
…
If- if you take your speederbike, leave immediately, y-you could take a shuttle and…
…
…
Leave?
…But-
But if you leave again…
Heart squeezing- shredded into a thousand fraying strands, you glance back at the mouth of the cave.
…
…
Running away doesn’t solve anything, Starlight.
…
…
Kark it.
…
You’re done running.
This time, you fight.
…
You’re not leaving Tatooine without your boys.
…
…
---------------------------
-BOOM-
You slam on your speederbike’s breaks, the bike groaning against the force. You waste no time in shutting it off, launching from the seat before it’s even fully stopped.
-BLAST-
Dank ferrik dank ferrik dank ferrik-
-BLAST-
-BLAST-
Growling through your teeth, you push forward, rifle held in a death grip against your side.
“Gunna try and kill my Mandalorian?” you snarl. “And my friends? Oh, I think the hell not, Thall. Eat blaster dust!”
You skid to a stop- boots sliding within inches of an…. uh, extraordinarily high descent.
Dropping to your knees, you peer over the edge of the cliff, peer at the canyon floor far, far down below.
What’s going on?
Where-?
You gasp, pressing a hand to your mouth.
Holy Kowakian monkey lizard!
Your eyes widen, watching as flamethrowers and blaster bolts and bodies fly and fling and throw-
Those who aren’t sprawled out on the ground karkin’ dead are certainly about to be karkin’ dead. The crowds- the pleasure barges- Thall- are long gone, no doubt fled when extra firepower arrived in the form of a pissed-off Boba Fett and co.
In fact, to you, it looks like they’ve just about wiped the canyon clean.
Holy Huttslug! You purse your lips. They didn’t leave anyone for you, darn it.
Ah well.
Grumbling beneath your breath, you lay out flat on your stomach. You knock your hat back, positioning the scope of the rifle against your eye.
“Din!” you laugh, watching as he stabs a Weequay in the chest. “Get ‘em, baby! Oh my gosh GET HIM! Hell YEAH!”
Reaching down into your pockets, you retrieve the extra ammo- loading the rifle with-
“Ayyeeaaaaa!”
You gasp, and you peer back through the scopes, zooming in to watch as your friends… whoop and cheer.
Oh, they did it! They actually blasted did it!
A grin cracks across your face, your anxiety pushed to the back of your mind for the time being. Because for now?
THEY BLASTED DID IT!
Giggling, you pull up your knees, prepared to leap up and-
…Wait a minute- who is that? He’s not-
-you freeze.
…
Oh.
…
Oh no.
Hissing through your teeth, you drop to your belly, press the scopes against your eye. There- Nok- approaching the group. He stops- stands several yards away from your friends.
…
Nok… what the hell is he doing here? That slimy Huttscum! Shavit! Just… shavit! What does that- that spiteful man want?
…
“Crink it!” You smash your fist against the ground. “Blast!”
This is bad. Really, really bad.
…
They’re- they’re all talking together. His hands are up now- What- what are they saying?
Kark
Kark!
What- what do you- oh kriff oh kriff-
You pull your twitching eye away from the scope- glance down at your belt.
…an idea.
“Fett,” you mumble into the communicator. “No questions- turn on your comm.”
You watch Boba through the scopes- he does not scan his surroundings, does not try and look around for you. He just… reaches up, taps his helmet.
-static- “-not here ..r you.”
Nok’s voice is faint, hard to make out. You curse, turning up the comm’s volume as loudly as it will allow.
“What do you want?”
You jump at Din’s voice, cutting in loud and clear through your comm channel. Biting your lip, you are frozen with panic and fear and oh blast what should you do Nok will ruin everything what do you do-?
…
Kriff!
You press, squeeze your eyes closed-
You… you can’t go back.
Your lower lip trembles.
…You can’t go back!
…
“Don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t particularly want to be here either, but I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” Nok answers Din. “I’m here to present to you an offer.”
No- no you trust nothing coming from Nok- nothing!
“ …What kind of offer?”
Oh stars. With a sharp inhale of air, you raise, hover your scopes just above their heads, watching, listening-
“There’s a woman you’ve been traveling with. If you hand her over into my care-” Nok sighs, leans to one side as if bored- “you will be compensated generously in return for your cooperation.”
Oh-
Oh stars- NO!
You’re not going back to Nar Shaddaa. You can’t-
Nok- he needs to shut up-
Shut up before he ruins everything!
“Request- denied.” The Mandalorian’s tone is… hell- he might kill this man himself. “How much-” he steps forward- “how much to call off the hunters you have on her?”
Nok just chuckles.
“You mean my patron? My patron is not the one who called the hunters on her … Believe me, I’d enjoy nothing more than watch her hunted down, personally. But my patron is… concerned for her. Wishes to shield her. And, alas, I am at his beck and call.”
“Your patron?” you snarl, tightening the grip on your rifle. You hover it just above Nok’s head. “Your patron can eat Banthashit, Nok, and you along with him. I’m not. going. back. Especially not with you.”
“What makes you think that I’d agree to this?” The Mandalorian’s tone is… dangerously calm.
“You can keep running, but she will be tracked down eventually,” Nok chuckles, clearly amused by all this- this mess you’re in- the kriffing creep. “This isn’t going away, Mandalorian.”
Hell-
You’re so… tempted to shoot him before he talks, blabs and ruins everything! Din- kark!- your past, it would ruin everything. He’d… he’d be disgusted and… and-
“This isn’t your problem, Mandalorian,” Nok sighs.
“…Her problems-” the Mandalorian’s hand inches towards his blaster- “are my problems.”
You blink.
…Stars.
“You really don’t have any idea what this involves, do you?” Nok laughs- brighter than you ever thought him capable of. How comforting to know your predicament brings him so much blasted joy. Maker knows the man is miserable otherwise.
Nok takes a step forward.
“You may know who she is, but it’s clear you don’t know what she is.”
Shut up shut up shut up.
Nok’s going to ruin everything. Din will- he will… damn it. You’re going to burst-
“My patron had hoped we could do this the clean, easy way. Avoid future bloodshed.”
…
The Mandalorian takes a slow, deliberate step forward.
“That’s where you were mistaken.”
He draws his blaster-
“Because not only would I die for her-” he points the weapon at Nok- “I’d kill.”
You pull away from your scope, mouth gaping open.
You- you never realized…
…
But… of course that’s how he feels.
“So, you go back to your patron-” the Mandalorian reholsters his weapon, his tone cool, even- “and you tell him that.”
Nok shakes his head, sighs. “Well, only if you promise to tell her I look forward to seeing her again very soon… in the latest fashion of prison restraints.”
The Mandalorian storms forward- drawing his weapon- Nok draws his-
They freeze- stare at each other.
“Oh great, she really has you under her thumb, doesn’t she?” Nok snorts, waving his weapon to the side. “You should reconsider. She’s selfish, you know. She’ll throw you aside as soon as she no longer needs you. Never cared about anything or anyone except herself and that little brat of hers.”
He chuckles- leans forward-
“Let’s just say it was hilarious irony …
…what happened to the little girl.”
…
…
Hilarious irony…
…
Hilarious irony-
…
Hilarious-
Red flashes- flashes in your eyes-
…
…
You- you’re-
…
…Hilarious irony.
…
…
The dam holding back your terror and grief and fury…
Erupts-
…
See you in hell, bastard.
…
You pull the trigger.
…
And you don’t miss.
Shouting- shouting from down below-
Damn it- they… they can’t find you here! You need to go!
With a sharp inhale of breath, you aim your rifle sights at a safe, yet convincing, distance from your friends, and-
-BLAST-
-BLAST-
-BLAST-
“Take cover!”
And at Cara’s muffled cry, you stumble up to your feet… and run.
Oh Maker, how are you- yipes! Jetpack- you hear a jetpack! Go-
GO!
Pressing a hand to your mouth, you choke back the sob, the howl threatening to tear from your lips. Flinging yourself across the speederbike, you ignore the warning tremors of the damaged bike, blasting across the dunes and away from the scene of your crime.
…
But you’re not finished yet.
You have to find Nok’s ship.
Wipe the computers.
Dump it out in the desert to rot.
…
But… but before it’s wiped… there’s something you must take from the starship’s computers…
----------------------------
<tier 1 security clearance code request>
-security code: 345-453
<security clearance code APPROVED>
<drellik computer archives accessed>
<how may i assist you?>
-begin download on all encrypted data filed under: valera dayne
<tier 3 security clearance code request>
-security code: starlight-2171
<security clearance code APPROVED>
<file download estimated between 1 and 3 standard hours to completion. commence with download?>
-yes
<command accepted. please enjoy our selection of jazz instrumentals while we select your files>
-have i not suffered enough today?
---------------------------
“WHERE have you BEEN?”
You lift your dry, burning eyes, spying Pablo- baby on his hip and Massiff at his heels- rushing down the ramp of the Crest.
“We’ve been searching hours for you!” He pulls you into a one-armed hug. The Massiff- Noodles, you suppose- not one to be left out of the fun, wiggle-butt dances around you for 3.5 seconds until he’s distracted by a moth.
“Stars,” you groan, every achy muscle and bruise throbbing at Pablo’s touch. You open your mouth to say something, but a sharp squeak steals those words from your lips.
You glance down.
“Little fella.” Flashing a tired smile, you reach out, taking the babbling child from Pablo’s hip. “See? I told you we’d be back!”
He stares up at you- giggles, and your tired smiles warms. The kid didn’t need the force to communicate with you this time. You know- can feel- what he’s feeling…
He’s… he’s really, really glad you’re back.
“Well, looks like you’re all in one piece, Bean Dip.” You quirk a brow, reaching out to stroke Grogu’s ear. “A miracle, if you’ve been in Pablo’s care all day…”
“The hell, Sweetheart?” Pablo throws his hands on his hips. “Is that the thanks I get? I’ve done nothing today but wipe up drool, chase after the kid, clean up after him- oh, and that thing?”
He glares at Noodles- busy running laps around Fett’s starship and howling at dust particles.
“It shit on the floor.”
Heh.
Good dog.
“Look Pablo, we can fuss about that later,” you sigh, legs trembling with exhaustion. You pull the baby closer, his presence a… comfort… A comfort you need right now as things are about to get…uh, complicated.
“You said… everyone’s out searching for me?”
“All day practically.” Pablo crosses his arms. “Mando was hell-bent on finding you before sundown… which is just about now, coincidentally.”
You swallow back the lump in your throat.
“I… I see.”
…
“What- what happened-” you bite your lip- “after my bike… kaboomed?”
Pablo huffs, flashes you a look. “The cameras following your bike cut immediately. And Thall refused to let us go rescue you and said he’d send his own men instead… which, uh, the Mandalorian did not take well… to put it mildly.”
You grit your teeth.
Thall- you scumbag.
“Mando annihilated half his security team, and-” Pablo shrugs- “according to that Fett guy, you know the rest of the story. With their help, we demolished Thall’s men- we didn’t die- and now you’re back! Overall, a successful trip to Tatooine, I suppose…”
…
Dank Ferrik…
That… look he just gave you. He’s… holding back about Nok, about the- the things he said. Maker! You- keep it together.
Keep it together for the-
“Ka’r’ika?”
You whirl-
“Din, I-”
-you’re swept up.
His arms clutch, grab at your body like you might disappear, float away, if he dared let go.
“Ner Ka’r’ika.”
His voice is hoarse… strained.
You bury your grimace against his chest.
Stars stars stars! What- does he suspect? What does he think of you after- after Nok’s… rantings?
You-
You can’t do this-
You can’t do this!
You lift your free hand, and shove at his chest. Din jolts, tears back, and the comfort of his hold slips away, leaving your body abandoned and starving for warmth.
You’ve startled him. He’s giving you that little head-tilt, the one he uses when he can’t quite figure you the kriff out.
“Din.” You force a light-hearted tone, adjusting the baby against your hip. “Uh, hi.”
…
He pauses, then dips his helmet forward- scanning your grungy appearance up and down. Keeping his left hand stiff against his side- he reaches up with the other, presses the gloved hand against your cheek.
“Look at me.”
You swallow- staring at anything but his visor.
He tentatively, carefully turns your face- inspecting the flowering bruises.
“Are you okay?”
…
“Nothing’s broken.” You swallow again. “I’ll live.”
“Kid’s built of tough stuff.”
Your eyes widen, shoot to the right-
Boba.
Kark- he knows- he knows you were at the canyon. He… he answered your comm. Of course he knows! Did he tell?
“She launched a hundred feet into the air and was up and fighting Jawas within the hour.”
You flash him a faint smile. “I landed on my hard head.” You grip Din’s hand still pressed to your cheek, drawing it away.
“Good to see you in one piece, Blazing Womprat,” Cara chuckles, unstrapping a rifle from her side. “Which is truly astounding after some of those insane stunts you pulled.” She steps forward, stops beside Pablo. “Pablo almost passed out from cheering too hard.”
“That was nothing.” You can’t resist the self-satisfied smirk that flicks up at the corner of your mouth. “You should see me-”
“-on a swoopbike.”
You stare at Din.
“Where have you been?”
Kriff, you knew the question would come eventually. You… hope your story checks out- that Boba doesn’t ruin things.
You place the baby down, letting him toddle across the ground towards Pablo.
“I decided to go a bit outside the cave, check around, you know?” Shaky breath. “One of Thall’s transports spotted me- recognized me… So, I, uh, took the bike out, far, far away from the Crest, as fast as I could in its damaged state, hoping to keep it… hidden.” Trembling hands in pockets. “Worked great until I got turned around. Took me a while to find my way back.”
…do they believe you?
Your eyes sweep across their faces- their shoulders relaxing...
They believe you.
…
But… then there’s Boba, and possibly Fennec. You- you need to talk to them.
“Well,” Pablo sighs. “What a way to spend the day… So, what now?”
“We’ve talked it over-”
You turn to Din.
“For tonight, we stay in this cave. Lay low. Analyze the situation tomorrow.”
Heavy sigh.
You… can’t argue with that. Laying low- resting… For one night, you need it. You need it desperately.
“Sounds like bedtime,” Pablo sighs, already blazing a path for the Crest. You watch, blinking, as the rest follow suit, each leaving for their respective ships.
“Pablo,” you call out, voice traced with exhaustion. “Take Noodles inside.”
“The hell?”
“My dog.”
“…No way! That thing is not sleeping in-”
“Noodles!” Cara calls, laughing as the dog highspeed races up the ramp.
“Your dog?”
You turn at Din’s rasp-
Stars… you want to cry at the stiffness, the rigidity in his body… You know you caused it, but…
“It’s going to eat bad people for me on Keolith.”
…
He just grunts at that.
Stars…
Pulling your hat low across your brows, you sigh, “Go on to bed, Mando. I- I think I’m going to spend some time on… Fett’s ship…”
You need space.
…
You need space to think.
…
“And maybe… maybe stay the night.”
The Mandalorian’s arms drop.
…
…
…
“……Okay.”
…
And just like that, he’s scooped the child up into his arms- trudging away towards the Razor Crest, cape fluttering at his heels.
…
Damn it.
You stare at the Crest.
…
That… came out wrong.
…
…
----------------------------
“Princess,” Boba smirks, lifting a glass as you walk through the door.
You discovered Boba and Fennec where you expected- sitting in the cockpit of his ship… as if they knew you were coming.
“No thanks.” You throw your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”
Something flies at your head- you catch it.
Opening the palm of your hand, you gawk down at-
“Next time,” Boba chuckles, “don’t leave your commlink at the scene of a hit job.”
…
“Oh.”
You swallow.
“Oops?”
“Nice shot.” Fennec smirks. “And here I thought you were inexperienced.”
…
You are inexperienced…
“Lucky first-time assassination, is all.” A pang knocks against your chest cavity. “Beginner’s luck?”
Oh stars, stop trying to be cute. Now’s not the time- you’re having a mental crisis for Maker’s sake-
“Thank you for not saying anything,” you mumble, eyes flicking between Boba and Fennec. “It… would have put me in an awkward position.”
…
You bite your lower lip…
Just blurt it out.
“Boba,” you sigh, “why are you helping me?”
…
Arms pressed against his thighs, Boba leans forward.
“Just fulfilling my end of the deal.”
Something… flicks in his eyes- the first time you’ve seen his mask… falter.
…oh.
…
He’s lying.
“Go, Princess-” a dust of a smile shadows his face- “you’re with the wrong Mandalorian tonight.”
…He’s right.
And with a deep grimace, you head for the door-
“I would have shot him too-”
You glance back at Boba.
“-if that helps you.”
You flash him a small smile.
…
It does…
…
----------------------------
“Where’s… uh, Mando?” you ask, head popping up into the Crest’s cockpit from the ladder below.
Pablo shrugs, focused intently on his card game with Cara.
“In his room.” Cara smashes a card on the dash- Pablo erupts into groans.
"Pay up, Babycakes…”
With a roll of your eyes, you begin descending the ladder. When your feet touch the floor, you freeze- overwhelmed, paralyzed with… anxiety?
Damn it… it’s… just Mando…
Just… do it!
Pursing your lips, you march past a prostrate 4PO with a snoring Noodles- all four feet in the air- resting beside him. And with one final march forward, you find yourself right at the Mandalorian’s door…
…
“…Mando?”
knock- knock-
“Uh, can I… come in?”
…
…
“It’s unlocked.”
Chewing on your lower lip, the door snaps open beneath your touch.
…
“Din?” you call out hesitantly, sticking your head inside.
“Thought you were with Fett.”
Your eyes turn in the direction of the refresher.
…
“His… ship smelled weird.”
The refresher door snaps open, and Din steps out-
“BLAST!” you yelp, stumbling backwards. “What the hell! Where’s your armor!?”
Dank Ferrik! It’s- it’s like looking at the man naked! Should you, you don’t know, spin away!?
Din just… tilts his helmet at you- rests his hands at the waist of his flight suit.
“I don’t sleep in my armor.”
…oh.
You lean back against the closed door, listening as Din shuffles around the room.
Kriff! What do you say? … Why isn’t he saying anything? Oh gosh oh gosh-
“Where’s the baby?” you blurt, beginning to turn towards him. “Is he- OH-”
ARM REVEAL.
…
OH SHIT.
SHIT.
KRIFFING GUNS-FOR-DAYS.
“I put him down in the bunk.”
“Huh?” you puff, snapping your eyes away from his… his big-ass GUNS- oh kriff.
“The child-” Din steps over a pile of junk to open a drawer- “he was... fussy.” He pauses… hooks his thumbs on his suspenders. “I thought… maybe he’d sleep better near your scent.”
Oh-
Oh stop just throw you into the pits of Carkoon will you.
Shoulders slumping forward, you groan inwardly- using every bit of your determination to not bolt right out the door.
Oh kriff, you hate this- this awkwardness. Just… ask him something! And for the love of all things good and holy- DON’T STARE AT HIS ARMS.
“What are you, uh, doing?”
“Going to bed.”
“Oh.”
…
You blink.
…
“Okay, goodnight-”
Flinging around, you reach for the door, but a hand, a grip on your wrist pulls you back.
“What are you doing?” you snap, stumbling at the motion.
“You need a real bed.”
“So do you.”
“I know.”
Oh.
Oh.
…
Well then.
…
Hell yeah.
…
You let him lead you, guide you around a pile of clothing- like a shepherd leading his flock through a minefield… only instead of a minefield it’s Din’s rancid room.
…But that’s an argument for another day.
Pausing at the foot of his bed- his visor trails down your legs…
"Sit.”
Damn it if you won’t obey. Stars, you’re pathetic.
“Din, what are you-”
He drops to his knees- bare fingers fumbling with the laces of your dust-caked boots. You watch- fighting to keep your expression neutral as the ridiculous man begins to remove your shoes for you.
…You also have to fight to not stare at his exposed arms and blasted-broad shoulders, but you’re much less successful at that part…
“Best be careful, Din Djarin.” A small smirk begins to grow. “I could get really used to this kind of treatment.”
“Who was he?”
You blink.
“…Huh?”
“That-” Din’s fingers pause- “that man.”
Your mouth pops open at his… vehemency.
“Boba?” You quirk a brow down at him.
Blast- what does Din… what does Din think?
He remains… silent, removing your second boot without a word.
“That man you kissed,” he puffs.
You blink… oooooohhh….
Leaning to your side, you pick at a loose thread on the bed. “He’s a… friend.”
“Looked like more than a friend,” the grumble slips beneath his helm. He stands, flicks a hand at you.
“Get out of those clothes.”
Thank the Maker- a topic change!
With a heavy sigh, you march yourself over to his drawers. You didn’t have to ask- you’re well beyond the asking stage.
“Mando?” you toss over your shoulder. “Um…What’s your favorite color?”
…
“Red.”
…
You can do red.
Snatching a scarlet flannel from the drawer, you slam it shut- sweeping into the refresher to change. As you remove your grimy clothes, you stare in the mirror at the scars- the marks on your forearm.
“You know, Mando,” you shout through the closed door, forcing your eyes away from the baggage of your past. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if the world hadn’t imploded under your feet as a kid? I know I do.”
Talking comes easier when you can’t see him….
…
Footsteps… shuffling… drawers opening and closing-
“Working my father’s trade…” Silence. “He was… a carpenter.”
“I think-” you reach for a towel- “that I’d have left Sularia, for sure. As much as I loved it…”
As much as you miss it…
“…There wasn’t much to do in the mountains except get married, have kids, chase kids, heard animals, shovel snow, fucking yodel… you get the picture.”
The door snaps open, and you press the side of your face against the doorframe. “I’ve always craved excitement, much to my parent’s displeasure…”
There he is- Din- sitting on the side of the bed… watching you.
He tilts his head forward- leans against his thighs. “I’d say you found yourself that excitement,” he snorts.
Understatement of the year.
Aches mixing with your exhaustion, you release a pained groan as you ease next to him on the bed. Body sinking in on itself, you brush, lean against his side.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
“Will you leave us again?”
His voice is but a whisper.
“If I left-” you lift your chin, flashing him a small smile- “I’d have to buy my own flannels.”
Silence.
…
He reaches out, tugs on your flannel sleeve.
“Can’t have that.”
…
“Go to sleep.”
A weary smile dusts your lips.
Yes, sir.
…
Scrambling up to the head of the bed, you shove your legs beneath the blankets and flop over to face the wall. Burying deep beneath them, you squeeze your eyes shut.
Blankets lift-
Weight on the mattress-
Heavy sigh-
Blankets pull and drop.
…
Oh kriff, he’s right behind you… Guess that’s how sharing a bed works…
…
Oh kark it.
You blink at the wall.
…
Time to make things weird.
“Roll over!” you shout, flinging up out of the bed. Din jolts back- startled by your outburst.
“W-what-?” He pulls the blankets up to his neck.
“MOVE!”
You yank on his arm- forcing him to roll over.
You can’t help but giggle as he obliges.
See? You don’t have to spend all night worrying about accidently touching him if you’re already touching him.
Life hack.
Now that Din’s properly flopped over and facing you in the bed, you crawl back under the blankets. You tug on his exposed arm- snaking it across your middle. You wiggle backwards until your back is pressed, squashed against his chest.
…
…
“Din?”
…
…
“Yeah?”
…
…
…
“This okay?”
…
…
…
His hand creeps up your hip, splays across your stomach.
…
“Yeah.”
…
…
…
“Then loosen up.”
…
…
“I am loose.”
…
…
“Goodnight, Din.”
…
…
“Goodnight, Ka’r’ika.”
…………
………
……
…
…
Guns-for-days holy shit-
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter
taglist: (in the reblog)
a/n: Oooooh boy. With a chapter this long, there’s a LOT I could say! I am reaaaaallly nervous for this one hsjdhdhd. Feel free to ask me anything in the comments so I can address specific topics! For now, I’ll just say things such as Din’s reaction to Boba taking his helmet off, Fennec still be alive, etc. will be addressed next chapter.
Chapter ten really came so easily yet so hard at the same time. I put a LOT of time and love into this fic... So, if you, too, find any sort of enjoyment from it, I’d love to hear about it! I have made so many kind friends through this story. I love hearing from you!
And heh, things be heating up in this chapter, hm??? 👀 Any thoughts/theories??
Anyway... I’m sure I’ll think of things later I’ll wish I’d said... but for now... I hope you enjoyed!!!
oh @adrieunor AND I GOT THIS, @missstef23 . Our DMs are full of Din analyzations. We got this himbo all figured out.
We’ve determined that the Crest OBVIOUSLY has no washer/dryer. Have you SEEN THAT THING???
So like, once Din’s clothes stink badly enough that even the randos in Space Walmart are giving him side-eyes, he’ll gather up the kid and his Space Underwear to go to Space Laundromat for his monthly wash day.
There you’ll find him sitting on the bench in full Beskar, next to an old lady Space Grandma, waiting for his underroos to wash/dry.
Also, @adrieunor‘s hill to die on: and I quote, “he might be a fucking disaster but Din Djarin folds his clothes”
ASK US ABOUT OUR DIN DJARIN SOAP SPECULATIONS ACTUALLY ON SECOND THOUGHT DONT
Here’s some fluffier thoughts involving laundry day:
When you first begin traveling with Din, YOUR FIRST RULE IS LAUNDRY DAY BECOMES A WEEKLY EVENT. You’re not traveling in that Stinky Metal Container with two Stinky Space Boys.
You fight with Din over the washer settings. Din wants to BLAST HIS CLOTHES WITH FIRE WATER. FIERY HOT WATER CLEAN ALL GERMS KILL STINK FAST.
You immediately make him go sit down next to Space Grandma and entertain the kid. That doesn’t stop him from occasionally coming over to irritate inspect.
Din ends up bonding with Space Grandma, and you’re just happy she’s there to keep an eye on him for you and keep him out of your hair
Space Grandma begins bringing butterscotch cookies just for Din on your weekly wash day because “he looks like a sweet boy”
“Thanks, Space Grandma.”
You decide to put Grogu to work, matching socks together.
But he’s terrible with colors, as we know, so he tries his best but.... well.... you just praise him anyway. The kid tried his best. He can float rocks. He’s allowed to struggle with his colors.
DIN DJARIN DRAWS THE LINE AT OTHER PEOPLE FOLDING HIS LAUNDRY. IF HIS UNDERSHIRT IS FOLDED LEFT TO RIGHT INSTEAD OF RIGHT TO LEFT HE SWEARS HE WILL JUST-
But what Din doesn’t realize is you washed/dryed both his and your Space Underwear together to save water
So when he pulls out a pair of your Space Underwear from the pile-
HEY YOU KNOW WHAT YOU CAN FOLD THE LAUNDRY HE WILL BE OUTSIDE WITH THE KID
I may be tipsy right now lol but omg I just told my bf my deep dark secret abt reading Mando fanfics - yours, the smut filled kinky ones and everything in btwn and my whole mans just looked me.dead in the eye and was like babe, its funny you think you hid that 😂🤣
I am rolling and idk why I thought you'd like that story lol okay byyyeeee
story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child
a/n: SNEAK PEAK!! COME AND GET IT!!!
also found on: Ao3
In Fields of White ~ Chapter 10 SNEAK PEAK ~ Coming May 4th
If Grandpa was alive to see this mess, he’d roll over and die again.
No.
No-
He’d find Thall.
Kill him.
Then die again.
“Stars,” you groan, leaning both palms on either side of the sink. Lifting your head, you glare at the face staring back at you from the refresher mirror.
Your face… it feels like it’s all you recognize of yourself these days…
You grit your teeth as shame weighs your eyes low, down your bare body, down to the speckled floor beneath your toes. You wiggle them to ground yourself- to reign in the disgrace squeezing at your chest.
…Dank Ferrik.
You press your eyes against the voice pushing, pushing at your consciousness.
…
I told you so…
I know, Grandpa.
I told you Thall was sketchy.
I know! Maker! Do you have to rub it in, Gramps?
Just wanted to point it out. And don’t call me Gramps. Makes me feel ancient.
Kark off. You’re dead.
…
I love you, Grandpa.
….
Kriff.
No one warned you that the worst part of growing up would be the realization your family was blasted correct about a lot of blasted things.
Hissing through your teeth, you fling your hand through the current of water flowing from the faucet, the droplets glittering across the reflected crown of your head.
Oh, fine. Fine!
You twist away- hand snapping up your shirt from the floor.
You’re used to everything going wrong. What’s new?
Another day, another “you’ll maybe possibly probably die.” Only this time, everyone’s survival rests upon you.
Big karkin’ yay.
If you survive this, you’re writing a book.
“Thall, how about you just kiss my- erf!-” the collar of your shirt catches your nose- “kiss my butt!” You yank on the edge of the hem until your head pops free.
“Just kark off-” you mash on the control panel, and the door opens with a snap- “straight to- YIPES!”
You fling backwards.
“GET OUT!”
Face exploding with warmth, you press behind the door. “What the hell! Can’t you knock?! I’m in my underwear, for Maker’s sake!”
Your shrieks are met with silence… so you peer around the corner…
Your wide eyes are greeted by the back of your Mandalorian intruder, the ends of his cape still twirling around at his heels from his own startled spin.
“Din, get OUT!” you hiss, ducking back behind the frame. You pull on the ends of your shirt, fighting to cover the bare skin of your thighs.
A strained, modulated groan slips around the doorframe.
“….d…r -s unl-ked.”
“What!?” you squeak, head ducking around to gawk at him. “Stop garbling, Djarin! I can’t-”
“Your door was unlocked!”
His words are sharp, strained.
“Anyone c-could have come in while you were showering and- and-”
“-Go away!”
You pat around the refresher counter, fingers gripping the closest thing within reach, and you hurl it-
“Out!”
“I can’t- Ka’r’ika! Is-… fresher paper?”
You bend around the door, watching as his gloved hands pick at the ribbon of white paper trailing across his shoulder.
You can’t help but grin.
“You look like shit, Mando.”
“Damn it, girl,” he grumbles, so low you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear it. “Can- can I… Dank Ferrik. Can I turn around now?”
“Blast it- no! Go away! I’m in my underwear!”
“What are you wearing underwear for-”
“Why am I wearing underwear? Did you really just-”
“I- I didn’t mean-”
“Some of us sleep in our underwear, Din! Gosh! What- do you sleep in your armor or something?”
...
“Oh my Maker. You sleep in your armor.”
...
“…No.”
...
A smirk quirks at the corner of your mouth, and you’re grateful he cannot relax at its sight. Stars, you take too much pleasure in making him squirm…
“Y-you’re not staying in here alone-” his voice strains- “not with hunters-”
“I’m safe-”
“-get in the bed.”
…
You blink.
…
His hands rise to his waist.
“Get in the bed.”
“Hmf.” You purse your lips. “Yes, karkin’ sir.”
Sticking your tongue out for good measure, you spin on your heel to sweep your pants up from the floor.
“Gosh,” you grumble, sticking a leg in as you hop one-legged towards the bed. You glance down at the print on your underwear. “I hope you didn’t get a good look- urg!” You lose your balance, slumping across the mattress.
“Wouldn’t want this to be the way you find out I’m a horse girl…”
“What?”
“What?”
...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴
masterlist for In Fields of White
taglist (i will be tagging only those that showed interest in my last date announcement post): @sana-katarn @greatcircle79 @zapsalis-d @followyourowncreed @missstef23 @thewayofthemandalorian @xwing-baby @awheeler27 @toilet-keeper @bewitchedbodyandsol @tuskens-mando @the-scandalorian @mandosmistress @wonderlandgabby @newflame97 @ohbeloved @betweentwopines @bootyliciousbilbo @snipskixandbeskar @poetichibiscus @sm0key-ravens @altarsw @kjcotton @greeneyedblondie44 @arda-ancalima @jessaminejaylinnreaper @agirllovespancakes @forthesakeofwandering @generouswombyrat @itsnottilly @nexuwhisperer @thosewickedlovelies @justhopeforthebestthingsinlife @gutgoreberries @cottonsheepy @who-the-hell-is-bonky1
