#I love Vision's face after he gets Corvus back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewayofthemandalorian · 3 years

Text

more than you will ever know - oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Rating: M. Like, it’s a definite M. Word count: 2,779 Summary: When an old contact is recruited to help you and Din hunt down Moff Gideon, he makes remarks neither you nor Din like. Din rectifies the situation. Notes: So as soon as a certain character was confirmed to be returning in episode 2.07 “Chapter 15: The Believer” last week, my mind had fully formed this idea. As such, it has very little to do with the actual episode. All the same, if you don’t want to know a few plot details for this week’s episode, maybe wait until you’ve seen it. Warnings: Non-descriptive/vaguely described scenes of sex, jealous Din Djarin, ever-so-slightly possessive Din Djarin, self-doubt, minor miscommunication (Din Djarin is shy and not good with words) mild season 2 spoilers (returning character, the child’s name)

Taglist: @goldafterglow @frannyzooey @absurdthirst @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @forever-rogue @f0rever15elf @thewaythisis @marvel-and-mischief @seasonschange-butpeopledont @sin-djarin @ezrasarm @din-damn-djarin @opheliaelysia @pajamasecrets @mandohatesdroids @poenariuniverse @fioccodineveautunnale @fleetwoodmactshirt @auty-ren @storiesofthefandomlovers @ithinkwehitametaphor @yespolkadotkitty @cinewhore @wille-zarr @tangledlove27 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @cryptkeepersoul @hayley-the-comet @clydesducktape @jaime1110 @computeringturtle @lovinglokiforever @justanotherblonde23 @sesamepancakes @phoenixhalliwell @giselatropicana @buckysalefty @fromthedeskoftheraven @paintballkid711 @ghostwiththemostbitch @revolution-starter @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @lilkermit14 @luvzoria @none-of-your-bullshit @sithkrispies @xserenax-13 @princess-and-pedro @dee-rosemary @kid-from-new-zealand @chibi-liz05 @dearspacepirates @mandolover86 @kirstiehenderson29 @dindjareen @remmyswritings @rzrcrst @teaofpeach @lv7867 @corellians-only @jedi-nila-rhyn

masterlist || read on ao3 || taglist form

“Well, will ya look at this? Mando’s got himself a little girlfriend.”

It hadn’t even been a full hour that former Imperial sharp-shooter and convicted criminal Migs Mayfeld had been on Boba Fett’s ship and you had already gone from being intimidated by him to being annoyed by him.

You didn’t like the idea, but you couldn’t disagree with Din on this. You knew that someone who was familiar with ships that the Empire used would be your best option in getting Grogu back from the clutches of Moff Gideon. And Mayfeld was the only person that Mando knew that could navigate the Imperial Cruisers.

Mayfeld sat back in the seat he was cuffed to, clearly enjoying the sight in front of him - you flustered and annoyed, Mando silently raging. “I can’t wait for Xi’an to hear about this. And I thought she was heartbroken before this little … development.” Mayfeld smirked smugly.

Din said nothing. Just stared at Mayfeld with a blank expression. You knew him well enough when he had his buttons pushed. And right now Mayfeld was pushing all of them at once.

“You don’t get to talk to her,” said Mando evenly. Quietly.

Mayfeld raised an eyebrow in your direction. “Shouldn’t she be the judge of that? Or are you the type that makes all her decisons for her?”

The two men glanced at you expectantly. “You make me uncomfortable,” you whispered to Mayfeld.

The former Imperial sharp-shooter just clucked his tongue at you. “That doesn’t sound very convincing, sweetheart.”

Beside you, the Mandalorian clenched his fist. “You heard her. You make her uncomfortable. So leave her alone.”

Something fluttered inside you at this display of protection, his assuredness. It was something that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You and Din Djarin hadn’t known each other for very long when he invited you to join his crew after his first face-off against Moff Gideon back on Nevarro, having met once or twice before then, a good rapport between the two of you already existing. He had picked you up on Corellia not long afterwards, shortly before his search for other Mandalorians began, claiming that he needed an extra pair of hands on the Razor Crest. If you had to guess, it had been about seven months since then.

It wasn’t too long after the events with the krayt dragon on Tatooine that you had found yourself in his sleeping chamber with him, the room pitch dark. You were blindfolded for good measure, but all the same, it had happened. Mando had been careful, gentle in his movements. Almost like he was afraid of breaking you. But that hadn’t stopped him from being passionate all the same.

Against your better judgement, knowing of his creed, his method of living, you had fallen for him, long before this first night sharing his company, his bed. It became a regular occurence, his bed becoming your shared bed.

Originally, you assumed it naïve to think that he reciprocated your feelings in any capacity; what you had was merely physical, or so you had told yourself. But now? Now, you weren’t so sure of that.

The seed of doubt that this was purely physical had been planted when he had told you his name one night, shortly before Grogu had been taken, when you had departed from Corvus after that fateful meeting with Ahsoka Tano. You didn’t know who knew less about the ways of the Jedi, Din or you.

Until that moment, when you were lying in his arms, you had called him nothing but Mando or nothing at all. “Din,” he had whispered, so quiet you had to strain to hear him.

“What?” you had replied.

The Mandalorian whispered it again in your ear, almost shy as if you would reject his name, reject him. “Din. My name is Din Djarin.”

You had been speechless. Up until now, you were sure that you would never know his name. You were fine not knowing his name. Sure, you had wondered what it was, but it was not your place to ask it if he didn’t want to give it freely.

“Why are you telling me?”

Din hadn’t answered you. Instead he had kissed you softly. Tenderly.

You hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but looking back now, you wondered if you had been wrong in your assumptions of this being just a physical relationship for him.

It wasn’t until recently that you realized that he showed you his true self long before he had shown it to anyone else. The self that was hidden away by layers of beskar, forced to be replaced by a man that was silently stoic.

* * *

“Come on, sweetheart.” Mayfeld’s voice interrupted your reverie. It was so easy to let your mind wander these days, since Grogu had been taken from you and Din.

The small creature had found his way to your heart almost instantly. You loved him, cared for him as a mother would a son. It had been your responsibility to watch over him while he was on the Jedi seeing stone. You had failed, unable to overpower the dark troopers that had been sent in to take him.

Though he had told you otherwise many times, you still wondered if a small part of Din blamed you at all for Grogu’s abduction. You knew that you blamed yourself for it.

You shot a glare at Mayfeld at the same time that Din’s helmet turned to glance in his direction. “What?” You were getting annoyed.

Mayfeld chuckled to himself. “What’s the appeal of Mando? I never got it on our last mission together. You seem like you can do a lot better than hanging around with him.” The implication was not lost on you or Din.

Before you could say anything, Din had moved from his seat into your field of vision. “Can I speak with you in private in the sleeping compartment?” His voice was huskier than usual through the modulator.

Baffled by this, you said, “O-okay.” Fennec and Boba Fett had left you and Din alone to get provisions and find any possible leads on where Moff Gideon’s ship was. Din had insisted that someone keep an eye on Mayfeld at all times.

“Don’t touch anything,” Din warned Mayfeld as he ushered you into the sleeping compartment that the two of you shared. It was slightly less cramped than the one on the Razor Crest had been, but it was less homey than the Crest had been. You missed it.

Don’t be mistaken, you were grateful for Fett’s ship, but you yearned for the domesticity that had accidentally (purposefully?) grown between you, Din, and Grogu on the Crest.

You missed what Mayfeld had to say in response, probably some wise-ass comment or remark. You knew he wasn’t going anywhere, not chained to the seat.

“Din, what’s wrong? What is it -?”

The rest of your words were cut off by the room being plunged into darkness, his helmet being torn off, and his lips crashing to yours all in the manner of fifteen seconds.

A moan slipped out unbidden as he continued to kiss you languidly, his mouth roaming your neck, biting and sucking on your pulse point, crowding you against the wall. You were so used to tentative, soft Din, who was so careful with his movements with you. This was a far cry from that Din. It was something that you found yourself enjoying, though.

You were confused but not complaining in the slightest. Din pulled back from you for a moment, chuckling at your whine for him to continue. Very haphazardly he yanked his chest plate off, followed by his pauldrons, throwing them to the floor with a loud crash. The knee covers were next before he gathered you in his arms again, pressing his lips to your neck, your jaw.

“Din.” The word came out half chiding, half moaning. “We need to be quiet. Mayfeld will hear us.”

Din pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, his voice husky and ragged with want when he pulled back. “Yeah? Good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, which was swallowed by another one of Din’s consuming kisses that you had come to love. You weren’t sure where this was coming from, but you couldn’t complain. There was nothing to complain about.

He ripped your tunic from you, taking his time with your trousers, pressing kisses down your exposed body, leaving marks in the wake of his lips and teeth. “Don’t hold back cyare,” he said. “I want to hear you.”

* * *

You moaned out his name again and again, your voice breathless, desperate. "I need - I need -"

Din chuckled against your skin, the sensation reverberating against you doing nothing to alleviate your current situation. "Yes? Use your words, pretty thing. What do you need?"

Your back arched, not for the first time, reveling in the sensations that you were feeling. That he was giving you. You wanted him closer - needed him closer. Always.

“I need you,” you groaned, voice hoarse.

You understood at that moment that you meant that in more than just a physical sense. He seemed to understand that, too. Perhaps he was the same and needed you in return.

Din gave you what you wanted, his growls mixing with your own whines as you fell apart around him, Din not far behind you. “You’re so good to me, ner kar’ta,” Din ground out as he caught his breath, collapsing against you on the bed.

“And you’re so good to me,” you replied. You found his lips with yours in the dark, kissing him gently this time.

A moment later, Din spoke hesitantly. “I didn’t hurt you at all, did I? Are you all right?”

Nodding against his chest, affirming that you were great, you rested for a moment in his arms before the question came to you, the one that had been on your mind since he had first ushered you in here.

“What was this all about? Not that I’m complaining, which, I’m not. Not at all. How could I complain after that?”

Din stiffened for a moment, becoming shy and self-conscious. “I-I didn’t - He was bothering you. Implying things that neither you or I liked.” He knew it was immature, but he couldn’t help it. “And I’m not good with words when it comes to things like…”

You stroked his arm reassuringly, not saying anything for a moment. “I didn’t like what he had to say. But you know I’m with you one hundred percent of the way, right?” Your voice was quiet, unsure. “I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Instinctively pulling away from Din after that bombshell, you didn’t have much time to consider your words as he pulled you back closer to him. “Do you know what ner kar’ta means?”

This question threw you for a loop. “N-no. I don’t know what any of the words you say in the languages of Mandalorians means.”

Din sighed, not unhappily. “Then I haven’t been doing what I’ve wanting to do correctly. Like I said, I’m not great with words when it comes to things like this.” He took your hands in his. “Cyar’ika means darling.” He pressed a kiss to the knuckles of your left hand. “Cyare means beloved.” A kiss to the knuckles on your right hand. You felt your face grow warm with realization as Din moved his face to yours, his breath tickling against you. “And ner kar’ta means my heart.” A kiss to your lips.

“Oh.” The word was quiet. His lips met yours tentatively. You responded immediately, bringing your hand up to wind in his impossibly soft, curly hair that you so often wondered the colour of.

The kiss became heated. Din hummed against yours lips. “I’m yours,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

You rested your forehead against his, kissing his nose. “I’ll have you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Pressing one more kiss to his cheek, you whispered, “Now let’s go get our boy back.”

Mayfeld had the decency to not look you in the eye when you emerged from the sleeping compartment ten minutes later, hand in hand with Din. When he did speak to you, it was to ask if you needed help or when you spoke directly to him. You hadn’t missed the way Din had dragged him into the cockpit, faintly hearing the muffled words of how this was going to work.

* * *

“Did he behave himself?” asked Fennec, referring to Mayfeld, who was snoring in his seat.

You and Din shared a look. “We’ve come to an … understanding, you could say.”

As you settled against Din for the night, Slave I in hyperdrive in the direction that Moff Gideon’s ship was headed, you thought back to your guilt over your part in Grogu’s abduction.

Din was pensive tonight. Likely thinking about his son, worrying about whatever it was that Moff Gideon was doing to him.

You shifted in his arms. Since this afternoon, he had become less stringent about certain things. Though it might be some time before he could fully reveal his face to you, you no longer needed an over abundance of caution. “Din?”

“Yes, cyare?”

Taking a fortifying breath, you spoke. “I’m sorry. That I wasn’t able to stop them. From taking him.”

In the darkness, Din looked at you. “It isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I should have stayed with the two of you. Come back sooner from the firefight.”

You stroked the fabric of his tunic softly. “It’s not your fault, either.”

Din caught your hand in his. “I was meant to protect him. And I didn’t.” His voice sounded ragged.

Squeezing his hand, you said, “You have protected him in so many ways. Loved him. Cared for him. He loves you. And we -” You had to pause for a moment to steady your voice, the threat of tears making their way to the surface causing it to become shaky. “We are going to get him back.”

That made Din pause for a moment. In a movement that stunned you, Din reached over to switch on the light, flooding the chamber in light. Before you could cover your eyes with your hands, he took them in his own hands. “I want you to see, cyare. It’s long overdue.”

He was beautiful. But you already suspected that. You reached up to cup his scruffy jaw in your hand. He closed his eyes, brown as his hair, at the sensation. “I love you,” you whispered. “And we’re going to get him back. I promise.”

Din inhaled sharply, fighting back his own emotion for the moment, returning your sentiment of love before becoming unsure. “How can you be so sure that we will get him back?”

Your response was simple as you reached out again to stroke his cheek. “Because he’s ours. And he means more to us than Moff Gideon will ever know.”

#the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

357 notes · View notes

amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 24: There's the Kicker

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: this chapter doesn't warrant warnings except brief mentions of violence!

SUMMARY: When you hear your name, you think you’re hallucinating it. It comes out of nowhere, and the voice that it comes from is familiar, trusting, warm. And there’s the kicker: it’s unmodulated. You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, because you’ve spent so many nights playing over Din’s voice in your mind, his promises, the way he broke them.

And still, you freeze, turning around, feeling completely suspended on the space-time continuum. Standing there, unmasked, heartbreak written all over his face, is your Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian. As your heart hammers, drowning out every impulse to run towards him and jump into his arms, you have to remind yourself he left you, and even though he found you, he’s not yours anymore.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES SO SORRY THIS IS DAY LATE!! i had a lot of family and personal stuff come up on the back half of the week, and the chapter just wasn't where i wanted it to be last night. i hope this makes up for it! and i promise, the next chapter is going to be muchhhhh longer, and (in my opinion) very good ;) ENJOY!!

Getting back to Hoth feels like trying to run up a staircase that doesn’t fully exist.

Your starfighter, the one you put together with your aching hands and a little bit of wishful thinking, is rebelling against you. It’s fitting, you think, trying to hit warp for the thousandth time, that in the Crest’s unceremonious, splintered death, it left behind a new ship for you can wrangle in its wake. Immediately, you feel awful, swearing and kicking the parts of your hand-me-down Rebel ship into shape, reminding yourself that your home—the physical part of it, at least—is gone, and it makes you want to break down in the middle of space, get lost in the stars and not think about anything in this forsaken galaxy ever again.

But every time you close your eyes, you see the lightsaber glow green, and you know somewhere deep in your chest that Wedge called you back for a reason. It’s colossal and monumental in the same thundering way finding Din and the baby for the first time was, as illuminated and fated as meeting Ahsoka. There’s something here, something real, something more, if General Luke Skywalker himself sent Wedge a hologram and shook your old friend up this badly.

Finally, you get the ship to move. You kick the malfunctioning warp system a few times before she shudders to life and groans under your pressure. “Kicker,” you mutter, flipping all the colorful, variant buttons on the dashboard to get her to move. “Kicker, that’s what I’m gonna call you. I’d name you Rebel,” you continue, punching the ship into hyperspace, “but that one might be a little too on the nose. What do you think?”

Because it’s a ship, Kicker doesn’t say anything. You smile though, a small, stolen one, and as you exit the crush of warp in front of the icy behemoth that is Hoth, you feel your heart aerating and releasing, nervousness building a colony of butterflies up in your stomach. Luke Skywalker, you whisper a few times, turning his name over in your mouth. You know he’s real. You’ve seen him before, only from a distance, but you’ve heard the concrete stories, the way he turned from desert farm boy into the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. He’s the kind of man that can turn into myth with the right storyteller, and he’s always awed you. There’s a part of you that connects to him—something yearning and desperate, that part of the tales you always heard where he keeps trying to save people beyond saving.

Wedge knows him. Knew him, maybe, with the mystique surrounding the Jedi that Luke became, but you’ve seen the way Wedge talks about him, how the double suns of Tatooine shine in his eyes, his enthusiasm, his kindness. And you know they haven’t seen each other in ages, because Wedge has been from one end of the galaxy to the next, and Luke—you aren’t on a first name basis, he’ll always be General Skywalker, but there’s something about the way he appeared in your vision that makes you feel closer to him—well, Luke’s been becoming a Jedi.

And after perceiving said Jedi on the seeing stone immediately after your premonitions of Grogu getting whisked away by something evil? It feels like too close of a coincidence. And you don’t believe in coincidences to begin with.

The descent to Hoth feels even colder and slower when you’re shivering in anticipation before you even break through the planet’s atmosphere. You’re in your jumpsuit, and one of the spare blankets from your makeshift bed in the back of the cockpit is draped over your legs, but you’re still freezing. It feels like forever until you’re finally docked and you can sprint towards the control room where Wedge told you he would be, boots stomping heavy and intentional against the frozen ground.

“W—” you wheeze, immediately skidding to a halt the second that you breach the doorframe, all the breath leaving your lungs, “what did he say?”

The room, you realize, a second too late, is full. There’s seven people splayed around the hologram, and they’re all staring at you. You recognize all of their faces, both from seeing them around here on base, and from your youth when you were still a fully integrated member of the Alliance, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you pull your helmet off, trying to walk over to where Wedge is standing with as much grace as you can muster.

“It seems like some of the message is corrupted,” Wedge manages, lowly, pulling you gently out of the way of the other people talking urgently over the holotable. “He said something about a new Jedi, though, and that he’s heading back to find them—”

“Me?” you blurt.

Wedge startles. “What?”

You bite your lip, grabbing his arm and dragging him a bit further away, hoping to avoid the other generals’ earshot. “I—I was on Tython,” you breathed, “just now. And before my fiancé and our kid abandoned—left me on Dantooine, we were on Corvus. Where we met with a Jedi—I think. I don’t know if she identifies as one anymore. Her lightsabers were white.”

Wedge blinks at you. “What?” he repeats, and you steal a nervous look at the others gathered around the hologram. Some of them are examining the table itself, others are watching you, and you feel both incredibly small and incredibly judged. “You’re not making sense, rebel girl. What about you?”

You inhale. It’s shaky, but it’s a start. You’re still out of breath. “I—I’m Force sensitive,” you whisper, as quietly as you can, “that’s why I was left on Dantooine. The baby—Grogu, our son—he’s also Force sensitive, and Moff Gideon was after the both of us. It was safer if we split up. Can,” you interrupt yourself, still out of breath, “can you play me the message? I think that Luke—General Skywalker—might have been talking about me.”

Wedge stares at you. After a second, he takes a half step back, but the look on his face, disbelief, is so close to Din’s of confusion and betrayal after you showed him the same piece of information about yourself. You swallow, suddenly self-conscious, pulling your braid over your shoulder.

“How long have you known?” Wedge whispers, voice urgent. “About your abilities?”

You shake your head. “Not long,” you promise, “two months at most. Listen—”

“Why did you say yes to me?” Wedge interrupts. “Why did you come here? We’re barely anything, right now, Nova, the Alliance is completely scattered after the fall of the Empire. There’s not enough of us to protect you.”

You blink, anger slowly filling up the expression on your face. “I can protect myself,” you hiss back, “and, besides, I’m not—I’m not dangerous, Wedge, and I can take care of myself. Besides,” you say, trying not to choke, “I think Gideon has the baby right now, b—because our ship was shot to shit—”

Wedge faces you again, putting both of his broad hands on your shoulder. Immediately, you close your mouth, suddenly anxious. You don’t know what he wants from you, and you don’t know if you should have told him about everything. But if he was friends—close friends—with Luke Skywalker, he shouldn’t be this uncertain about your Force sensitivity. You bite your lip, unsure how to react, but you can feel the anger and desperation slowly building back up in your chest, billowing like an old, ancient flame.

“Moff Gideon,” Wedge says, voice low, “is after your fiancé and your kid?”

Troubled, eyes furrow, you nod. “Yes.”

“And when you just left the base earlier today,” Wedge continues, his voice intense but slightly strained, “where did you go?”

“I—” You inhale, sharply, breaking his intent gaze to look over at the rest of the people in the room. Almost every single one of them is outfitted in the regalia reserved for admirals and generals, and the ones who aren’t are pilots. You know the uniform. You’re practically wearing it yourself. They’re all looking at you with a strangeness to them, eyes flickering back and forth between you and Wedge, as if asking for permission. “When we met Ahsoka Tano on Corvus,” you continue, trying to direct your conversation to both Wedge and the others in the room, “she told us—me and Grogu, my kid—that she couldn’t train us, because we had emotional attachments to one another. But she told us to go to the planet Tython,” you pause to swallow, mouth dry, “because it has a strong connection with the Force, and we could connect with a Jedi who could.” You stop, looking back at Wedge. “I heard him,” you whisper, “and I saw him. His lightsaber, lighting up the hallway of an Imperial cruiser. I know that Gideon was after my family.” You pause again, inhaling a shivering breath. “When I was just on Tython, I saw our ship. It was just rubble.” You’re trying so hard not to cry, but you can’t help yourself. “I’ve had visions, Force visions, for months now, of the planet. Gideon and his troops were after the baby, and I know Tython is where they took him.”

Wedge’s hand is up against his chin. He exchanges a quick, unreadable look at one of the generals, and then he faces back to you. “How many men does Gideon have?”

You look around at the people in the room again, and decidedly take a step forward, towards the table, towards the paused, flickering, blue hologram of Luke Skywalker pulsating up from the table. “A lot,” you admit, hand flying to your necklace before you startle with the realization that it’s not there, that you gave it to Grogu right before you were deserted out on Dantooine. “I know the galaxy is still in reparations from the fallen Empire.” You swallow, trying to meet the eyes of the rest of the people in the room. “But I don’t think the Empire is as fallen as we previously thought.”

Wedge moves in behind you, and a space opens up around the table. You smile, grateful, falling into rank with the other eight people in the room. “That’s what we’ve been afraid of,” he affirms, bumping his shoulder gently into yours, the same thing your dad always did when he wanted to include you. You let your stature relax, leaning in to examine the pulsing of the hologram on the table. “After we defeated the Empire, most people left the Alliance. It seemed like the natural thing to do when there wasn’t active, visible evil to fight off anymore. People wanted to get on with their lives.” He inhales, deeply. You can see worry lines chiseled into places they weren’t before, the last time you saw him. “Luke, though.” He stares at the rotating disillusion of his friend as he exhales, “Luke knew it wasn’t over. He’s been all over the place,” Wedge says, and this part sounds like it’s just for you, “trying to find people who can use the Force like he can, and like you can too. Trying to rebuild the Jedi Order.”

You swallow, looking up at him. “What does the hologram say?” Your voice comes out shaky and small.

Wedge sighs, pressing the button to play the message.

“Wedge,” Luke says, voice tinny but full of relief. “It’s been a long time, and I know you’re busy, but I need your help.” You watch, transfixed, at the blue, flickering image of the greatest Jedi in the galaxy. You swallow. “I think I’ve found someone. Maybe two people, I can’t be sure. I felt it through the Force.” He pauses again, giving Wedge a look that feels private, intimate, like something only for him to see. You avert your eyes. “I’m headed to the planet Tython. Then—then I’d like your help, and the Alliance’s, to help safeguard whoever I find.” You look at Wedge. “I know it isn’t fair to ask. I know I’ve been distant for a long time. But I need you to know that the galaxy is still in danger. I feel it, Wedge, and I know you can too. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, the holotable flicks off, the rotating, grainy, blue image of Luke Skywalker himself turned to dust.

“He found you,” Wedge says, but it sounds more like a question.

“No,” you whisper, voice small. “No—I saw him, but it was a premonition. I didn’t call out to him.” Your eyelids flutter, because you’re trying to hold back tears. “Grogu,” you say, voice even smaller than it was before. “Gideon has Grogu.”

Wedge exchanges looks with the others in the room, then looks back at you. You’re exhausted, and you rub your hands over your tired eyes, pressing until you see stars. “So Luke is going after Moff Gideon?”

“Yes.”

“So we need to help him.”

You spin around, back to Wedge and the generals. “No,” you enunciate, trying to stress just how bad that idea is with a single syllable. Then your words come flooding back. “No. We—you, any of you—cannot go after Gideon. I know you want to, and I know you’ve taken down plenty of the Empire, so I know you’re capable, but you can’t.” You look back at Wedge. “You can’t,” you whisper again. “I’ve seen him. He’s flattened entire cities in his destroyers, and he’s ruthless. He’s power-hungry, and anyone or anything that stands in the way of that is something that will soon be dead. I held him off once,” you say, projecting this part to the rest of the room, “once, and I barely got out of there in time, and it drained me for days. I still feel that exhaustion here. You can’t help Luke with this. Protecting me, and whoever the other Jedi are—that’s what you need to do. I know this is horrible. I know you probably feel helpless.” You swallow, fingers grasping around open air around your throat where your necklace used to be. “But you can’t take on Gideon. Not alone. And not even with all of you. I’ve seen how that story ends. It cost me my family.”

Wedge stares at you. “So you’re suggesting we do nothing? To help Luke Skywalker? To get your kids and fiancé back?”

The question burns. You meet his gaze. “No,” you answer, finally, “I’m suggesting we strategize before we attack.”

There’s rumblings from the generals in the background, but Wedge holds up a hand, and the low voices cease. You swallow, trying to push your shoulders back, give off confidence, but you’re not sure if it’s working. Wedge nods at you, and you feel relief spread through your whole body as he turns back to the generals. “Nova’s right,” he says. “There’s not enough of us left to adequately fight off Gideon and the troops he has.”

“He has a weapon, an awful one,” you say, stepping forward. “It’s called the Darksaber.”

No one seems to blink an eye at that one, but Wedge looks at you. “Is Gideon Force sensitive, too?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“No,” you answer, softly, “but this weapon isn’t like a lightsaber. It’s cruel, and ruthless, and its blade is black, vibrating with a ring of white around it. He can use it, and he has, and he’ll continue to until he’s been stopped—”

Suddenly, all the lights start blinking, sirens blaring. You jump back in panic as everyone immediately mobilizes, starts pulling weapons out of hidden places, running out of the room. Wedge beckons for you to follow him, so you do, and your legs scream with the soreness of trying to climb to the top of the seeing stone back on Tython.

“What’s happening?” you yell, following Wedge into another control room.

“We’re under attack,” he answers, grimly, his face paling. “You need to go.”

You blink, coming to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“It’s Gideon’s men,” Wedge says, turning around to face you. “It’s not Gideon himself. But he’s sent in three fighters, and they’re big ones. I assume they’re after you?” he asks, and your stomach twists. Wedge starts striding towards the hangar, and you follow him, immediately getting blasted in the face with Hoth’s frozen air.

“It’s three fighters,” you say, urgently, “I’ve taken out six of them before, Wedge, singlehandedly, let me get in the air and I can shoot them down—”

“No,” he interrupts, “we’ve got it. I promise. You have to go. There will be a decoy ship alongside you, one that looks enough like yours so they’ll follow it. Only when that ship is clear do you leave the atmosphere, and then you immediately jump into hyperspace.”

You’re frozen.

“Do you understand?” Wedge asks, and you exhale, letting go of all the seizing stress in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes,” you answer, and he nods. You’re at Kicker, so you grab the parka out of Wedge’s outstretched hand, starting to climb.

“Rebel girl,” he calls, and you go back a step to catch his face. There’s so much there. You can feel it the same way you see how worn his worry lines were when you were reunited back on Dantooine. It’s longing, loss, and, somewhere hidden, hope. You see the way he’s trying to convey everything—condolences for your parents, plans to get Din and the baby back to you, whatever was going on between him and Luke—but he can’t vocalize it. You nod at him, smiling softly. “Fly safe,” Wedge says finally, “and let me know where you land. No matter what,” he tacks on, at the last minute, and you see for a split second how concerned he is, “do not turn around. Do you understand me?”

You want to defy him. You want to say no. You don’t want to leave, you want to stay and fight. You promised Din all that time ago that you wouldn’t run, and here you are, deserting the people that you’re supposed to protect. Finally, though, because of the look in his eyes, you nod. “Don’t you dare let them touch you,” you manage, and your voice only cracks on the last word, which is an improvement. Wedge nods back, and then he’s gone, running through the hangar to his X-Wing. You watch him take off, and your eyes track the decoy ship that’s supposed to be yours, and as the three fighters go after it, you exhale and punch it. You’re moving fast, too fast, and your takeoff is sloppy, but you know Wedge wouldn’t tell you to book it if he didn’t mean it, so you fly recklessly and you fly fast.

When you hurtle out of the atmosphere, you catch one of the fighters diverting from the group to chase after you, so you don’t even bother punching in coordinates. You just floor it. “C’mon, Kicker,” you whisper, voice low and desperate, as she shudders and groans to hop into warp. “I know you want to go slow, but now is really not the time—”

And, like the rebel she is, she sputters down to nothing.

“Fuck!” you scream, loud, too loud, it hurts your own ears, but you get up and start pounding on the dashboard while the fighter’s getting closer and closer. You look out the window as you flip switches and slam on buttons, and now you’ve got their attention, too, and you watch in panic as the ships flock to you, firing, trying to hail you on your comm.

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. Turn of your shields and lower your blasters.”

“Like hell,” you spit, “Kicker, I’m serious, I need you to work now—”

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. You have been warned once.”

“Warn me again, then,” you seethe, closing your eyes as you disconnect one of the wires and try to spark it with the other.

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. You are resisting capture. If you disobey one more time, we will fire on you instead of taking you prisoner.��

You ignore them. If this works, the ship will finally hop into warp, and you’ll be in the clear not only to evade, but to shoot back at them. If it doesn’t, you’re about to die in a fiery explosion, and all of your promises to Wedge would go—very quickly—down the drain. You cross your heart and pray to the Maker that you did the right thing, and then there’s nothing, just three very large—and very scary—TIE fighters about to surround you and take you prisoner at best, and then, finally, the glorious rebel she is, Kicker thunders to life. “Yes!” you scream, buckling in, cracking your neck, putting one hand on the accelerator and one thumb over your blasters. You have a second to do this, and you need to do it right.

“This is your final warning. Either board our ship or die.”

“Die,” you answer, your voice calm and not much like yours. As you speak, you push the accelerator forward, hit warp, and fire. You catch the biggest fighter right on the wing, not a hard hit, but enough to knock it back into the other two.

“Get back here, scum—” the pilot shouts, but you’re already in hyperspace.

“That’s Rebel scum to you,” you say, and the grin that swallows up your whole face is worth every bit of the close call.

You don’t know where to go. You don’t really care, because the farther you get away from the Alliance, the safer they’ll be, so you just set Kicker to coast through warp and lean back, seeing how far she’ll take you. Maybe she’ll dump you on a desert planet, or maybe she’ll crash land you on Nevarro again. Your heart feels daggered, impaled. There’s no way you could go back there. Sure, maybe Din wouldn’t be there, but Cara would be, and Greef Karga, and all the other people you met in the Guild. They’d ask questions, for starters, and Cara might go after Din and kick the shit out of him, and it would just leave you on the verge of tears. You want to go somewhere populated, you think, like Dantooine was, even though you know you can’t go back there yet. It’s too fresh, and Gideon’s men might come looking, and, besides, if Din wants you back, he’s going to have to chase you a little.

“Novalise,” you whisper to yourself, echoing the time almost a decade ago where you only had your name out here to hold onto, to bring you back to life. It still sounds like yours—no matter Din knowing it, no matter how you shared it with Arlen, no matter that it’s what everyone in the Alliance calls you now, after you told Wedge you prefer it to your original name. It’s yours, and right now, your own self feels like home.

So you coast. You hop out of warp every few hours to make sure that no one’s after you, but no one seems to have tracked you anywhere. It’s quiet out here, but it’s not the kind of shattering silence that it used to be. You sleep sometimes, huddling under the next of blankets for warmth, and then you go back to your chair to spin and look out at the stars.

You’re not sure how long it takes, but it feels like a few days when you finally decide to hop out of warp for good. You’re not sure exactly where you are, but you need food, and you need fuel, and you don’t think you drifted into the Mid Rim. It takes a little searching for anywhere that looks populated, but when you drift into the middle of an asteroid field, you realize you’re in Polis Massa. You’ve never been here. It’s not as filled with people as it used to be, once you break through the atmosphere on the rock that holds the research base, but it’s large and it has food and fuel. This is where your dad would go, before he joined the Alliance. Here and Coruscant, or what was left of it, had the most history about language and linguistics, and he’d take day trips from Yavin to collect as much research as he could to bring back and share with you.

It feels familiar here. Even though it’s not home, or anything close to it, you know that there’s something pulling you here, and something anchoring you too. The city is dense, but there aren’t a lot of people out and about. It’s dark here, darker than you imagined, so when you park Kicker in a landing bay, you bring a small flashlight with you. People don’t pay you much mind out on the street, even while you’re dressed in glaring orange, which is comforting after the close call you just had back on Hoth.

You wander. For a while, until the city starts getting lighter on the horizon line. Soon, the cafes and small markets on the street open up, and you sit outside, still wrapped up in your parka, glad to not be shivering. You eat, eventually, and have a steaming mug of caf, which helps. You don’t live the way it makes you feel, all jittery and nervous, and you don’t love the taste, either, but you’re happy for the warmth. Eventually, people filter in and out of the streets and you start to make your way deeper into the heart of the city.

You trip over the cobblestones at one point, practically launching yourself into the person ahead of you. You wince at his dirty look. “Sorry!” you call after him, and you hear him grumbling, but he acknowledges you with a nod. When you stand back up, you see where you are—the research institute your dad always talked about, where he’d go and spend hours reading about the different languages in the galaxy, to write them down and bring them back to you. You hesitate, for a second, and then you’re climbing the stone steps, driven by ache and longing.

It’s massive in here. It’s gorgeous, but huge, and the shelves are stacked all the way up to the ceiling. You have no idea where to start, but you pick an aisle at random and start browsing. You’re not sure what you’re looking for, if it’s something to connect you with your family or to connect you to this new life you’re haphazardly building for yourself, but you stumble again and nearly knock over the librarian.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage, seeing how tiny she is, how frail. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s quite all right, dear,” she answers, kindly, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses on her face. “Can I hep you find anything?”

“The…language section,” you say, decidedly, eyes still caught on how many books there are here, how many years it would take you to read every one. “Linguistics.”

You follow her deeper into the labyrinth of bookcases, and when she shows you where the linguistics shelves are, you thank her excessively, your gaze buried deep on the titles on the spines. Most of them are in Basic, likely for inclusive access to anyone who ventures here, but there’s so many that have unfamiliar letters, the way they jut out and curl around themselves, and when your finger finds one, it falls open.

You don’t know what it is at first. You just feel called to it, opening it up and poring over the pages, and then a familiar word catches your eye. Kar’taylir. To know. To hold in the heart. Your own heart catches in your throat, stomach twisting itself over in impossible knots. You slam the cover closed to look closer at the text, and you realize it’s a dictionary of Mando’a, and all its translations.

There are tears in your eyes. You came here, to be closer to your father, sure, but also because you wanted to build something new. And you walked through these doors that held millions of books, and the one you picked out was a dictionary of language that your fiancé shared with you. It’s too much. You choke back a quiet sob, hoping everyone else here for research can’t hear your silenced wailing. Against your better judgement, you tear through the pages, looking for the familiar syllables, and when your finger finds the word cyar’ika, you have to close your eyes and desperately beg your heart to stop beating so horrifically, to slow the pulse down.

You follow the word over to its translation in Basic. Cyar’ika, it reads, sweetheart, beloved.

Beloved. Beloved. It says beloved, it doesn’t just mean sweet thing, it doesn’t mean that you’re kind and close to his heart. Din had been calling you his beloved for months, and then he fucking left you.

It’s too much. Everything is hot and fuzzy. You slam the book shut, heart pounding a staccato in your chest. Immediately, you get up and run. You don’t know where you’re going. In hindsight, you should have put the book back, but you didn’t. You’re running. You promised Din you’d never run, but he promised you forever and then stole it away, so you don’t owe him a damn thing anymore. You’re crying, loudly, openly, and when you rush by the same librarian you toss her a halfhearted apology.

You trip going down the steps, bang your knee up something horrible. It makes your eyes flash white hot for a second, but you pick yourself up and just keep going. You only have a vague idea where Kicker is, but you run in that general direction, blood dripping down your scraped knee, and then you’ve found the landing slot. You hurry up the ladder, not even bothering to get out the bacta kit that you stowed in the hull of the ship, just desperate to get out of here, to go somewhere else. It doesn’t matter.

You have history with Din on so many planets, it’s impossible to pick one where he won’t be hanging in the air. But something feels horribly right about heading to Tatooine, considering he hates desert planets and you can hide in plain sight. Maybe you’ll go to Mos Eisley and pick up bartending, maybe you’ll be a hermit that lives in the sand, maybe you’ll learn to speak Tusken and really never be seen from again. But before you breach the atmosphere, you call Wedge.

“Rebel girl,” he sighs, coming in almost immediately. “I was worried. You didn’t respond earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. That seems to be the only thing you can utter today. “I—I went into warp for a while, turned off my comm. I was just on Polis Massa, just for the day, but it’s not—”

“Safe there,” Wedge interrupts, and you want to tell him that’s not what you meant, but he’s still talking. “We intercepted the comms of some of the people sticking close to the Empire. There’s enemies there, I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” you say quietly. “I’m going to Tatooine. Not forever, just for a bit. I figure I can ditch Kicker—the ship—somewhere safe and get some sort of job for a few weeks, throw people off my trail.”

“Good call,” Wedge says, then he sighs. “Luke’s from there, you know.”

You swallow. “I know. Listen, don’t tell anyone else where I am, but if he asks—”

“I’ll tell him where you are,” Wedge assures you. “Can you get word out to your fiancé?”

You gulp, slowly coating towards the atmosphere line, watching how your whole vision fills up with sun and sand. “I’m not sure,” you say, barely anything at all. “Listen, Wedge, I gotta go. Thank you for checking in on me. I’ll tell you if I’m headed anywhere else.”

“Do that,” he agrees. “Lay low. Unless you need to go after Gideon. But if that happens, you call me. You have to promise you’ll let me help. Not the full Alliance, if you don’t want our guns and ships. But you have to call me. I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

Your eyes fill up with tears. You don’t have the energy to argue, really, so you don’t. You just nod, slowly, finding a safe place to land. “I promise,” you say eventually.

“Nova?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” You hear the line go dead, but you nod again against your own company in the cockpit. “

“I will,” you manage, low and deliberate.

It’s hot out here. It’s a no-brainer, you know how relentless Tatooine’s suns are, but it’s even worse than you imagined. You shed the parka, most of the jumpsuit, and tie your hair up on the top of your head before you step out into the sand, but even then, in just your tank top and light pants, it’s ridiculously hot. You struggle for the first few klicks, and then the suns slowly start to go over the horizon, and it’s a bit more bearable. You drink the last of your water, and keep stumbling closer and closer to a settlement.

It’s not Mos Eisley, but it’s a cantina. Smaller, probably lower profile, and you stagger in with your empty water canteen and your bag full of the few credits you have left, and you pick a small table out of the way to sit down upon. The wall is cool, and you press yourself up against it as you signal the waitress.

She’s definitely not human, but you’re not sure what race she is, because the dark in here is such a stark contrast against how blinding the light was outside, and your eyes haven’t fully adjusted. “Hi,” you say, your voice coming out cracked. “Can I please get some water, and—and something to eat?”

“What would you like?” she asks, and you balk at the menu, all of which has meat on it. The thought of putting anything made out of mat in your mouth makes your stomach roil, so you shake your head.

“Is there anything you offer—um, that doesn’t have meat?” you ask, and your words come out small.

“We have a plate of vegetables,” she answers, “but they’re not the freshest—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt, warmly, “that’s fine, thank you.”

She gives you a soft smile and offers you a whole pitcher of water. You should pour some in your canteen, but you just start drinking straight from the jug, gulping it down as fast as you can, trying to get rid of the dry heat in the back of your throat. When she comes back with your food, the water it totally drained, and you ask for a refill as your stomach grumbles.

“Can I get anything else for you?” she asks, and you shake your head, and she starts walking away.

“Wait,” you call after her, mouth full of food, “wait—uh, do you happen to have any positions open? For a job? I can’t offer much, but I’m a good cook, or I could clean, I’m good at that too—”

“What’s your name?”

You swallow around your mouth of food. “Novalise. And I usually have much better manners than this, I’m sorry.”

She smiles. “I’m Kuna,” she answers. “We only have pick-up jobs available around here right now, I’m afraid. It’s not steady pay, but it’s something, and at least it’s out of the heat.”

“Yes,” you say immediately, “yes, I would love that, whatever you have for me. Thank you.”

Kuna nods. “Dinner’s on the house,” she says, voice still lowered, “and you can come back sometime tomorrow to start, if that works.”

“Yes,” you nod. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much.”

You sleep better that night than you have in the last week, which isn’t saying much, but at least the hulking silence of being alone in the ship is satiated with the knowledge that you’re not going to be easily accessible to anyone that doesn’t wander into the cantina, and after you hike back to Kicker, you fly her closer to the hangar on the edge of town and cover most of the ship with a tarp you find rolled up in the hull. As long as stormtroopers or anyone associated with Gideon doesn’t stop in the hangar on the outskirts of town, you’re safe.

The work is hard, and slow, but it’s rewarding. It gives you that same distracted feeling that working with Arlen at the hostel did, and something to show for it. You mostly clean, sweeping out the freshers and scrubbing down the bar, but you get the stools spotless and you’re able to polish the backs and seats of some of the other cluttered chairs, moving tables back and forth to best optimize the space. After a few weeks of working a handful of days, Kuna lets you back behind the bar. Mostly, you’re making small drinks, no big cocktails or anything fancy, but you like it. It’s nice to interact with people, even if you don’t share a language with them, and it keeps your mind off the book of Mando’a and Din stranding you on Dantooine after promising you an eternity.

You don’t care that it’s temporary. There’s nothing momentary about heartbreak, nothing compartmentalized enough for you to simply forgive him. Not now. And maybe not ever. But your heart yearns for Grogu. Whenever you let your mind wander, you tap into the Force as much as you can, searching for him, or searching for Luke Skywalker, trying to figure out if they’re okay, if Grogu is still under Gideon’s grasp, and in the corners of your visions, you look for Din.

It’s involuntary. It hurts, and it leaves you reeling, heart spinning out into an abyss you can’t cartograph your way back from. So you try to stay distracted, try to keep busy. Days pass, and you’re not sure for how long, but they’re filled with work and you sleep at the end of them, restless, with nightmares, but you’re still getting sleep, and that’s all that matters right now.

Kuna lets you start serving drinks unsupervised, which isn’t much, but it makes you feel accomplished. The whole cantina looks better every day you’re here, and it’s something to be proud of, especially since you haven’t done anything to call attention to yourself other than being a woman in the middle of a skeevy bar in the desert, which just means you attract creeps instead of stormtroopers. It’s a good bargain. One night, you serve a regular, a Twi’lek with green skin, not purple, and you can look at her without seeing Xi’an, her dead body, or Din. She’s kind, and she asks about you as much as you ask about her, and you walk out of the bar to clean up the mess one group of people left behind, letting the rest of the people filter out for closing time.

When you hear your name, you think you’re hallucinating it. It comes out of nowhere, and the voice that it comes from is familiar, trusting, warm. And there’s the kicker: it’s unmodulated. You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, because you’ve spent so many nights playing over Din’s voice in your mind, his promises, the way he broke them. And still, you freeze, turning around, feeling completely suspended on the space-time continuum.

Standing there, unmasked, heartbreak written all over his face, is your Mandalorian.

as always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!!

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! thank you all for being patient and bearing with me these past few weeks!! i promise more is coming, and we still have the whole last arc to go, so SM isn't ending soon ;) and when it does? i already have plans for a sequel in the works!

so sorry again that this is a day late!!! i hope you loved it anyway <3

xoxo, amelie

87 notes · View notes

tobealostwanderer · 3 years

Text

Padawan

Grogu and Din introduce Luke to a friend

Again, I wrote this late at night and I haven't proofread. I am not a great writer but I thought that this was adorable so I wanted to write it down. Slight DinLuke mentions. This story can also be found on Wattpad. Enjoy!

It was a peaceful day at the temple. The padawans had the day of so in turn, Luke had some time to relax. Grogu's adoptive father, a Mandalorian called Din Djarin, would come and pick Grogu up in a few hours to have a father-son day.

Luke knew that the Jedi of old didn't agree to attachments with other people, including parents. But something stirred in him when he first picked up Grogu all those months ago. The Mandalorian and Child had a deep connection that wasn't easily broken. Grogu was practically unmanagable when he joined the newly established Jedi temple, and it wasn't until he got his metal ball, a replacement from what he used to play with on his father's ship, and the promise that his dad would visit him soon that he cooperated in the lessons.

Din visited once every two months and Luke got to know the man behind the helmet a bit. After all, the Mandalorian gave his name to him, which he knew was not commonly done. A tiny smile krept on the Master's face as he remembered that day..

Shaking out of the memory, Luke got up from his desk chair and made his way to the sleeping chambers of his pupils. It was about time he got Grogu ready. There weren't many pupils in Luke's temple. His own nephew wouldn't join until he was old enough to show the signs of the Force, but he was certain that he would grow up to be a powerful Jedi.

Knocking on a wooden door at the end of the hallway, a happy coo was heard. Luke opened the door to see Grogu play with his metal ball. The metal was starting to look less polished because of the creature's clawed, green hands. This obviously didn't bother the little alien as he couldn't be parted with it. Through the Force, Luke could feel Grogu's happiness. He knew what today meant.

As if on cue, the loud rumbling of a spaceship could be heard. Grogu squealed and hobbled to his tiny window as fast as he could. The familiar form of the Razor Crest landed closeby. Luke picked up the green baby and smiled down at him.

"Let's go greet your father, little one" he said with a tiny smile. His robes whooshed as he turned around, his leather boots clicking on the tiles as he powerwalked to the entrance. He too was happy to see the Mandalorian again. He was like a friend to him, although not in the way Han is a friend to him. It felt like... more. Luke had to surpress it though. Some people still remembered the Jedi of old, and remembered their customs. Even though most had forgotten, he still needed to be an example to the galaxy.

As the black-clad man and baby stepped outside, the hull door of the spaceship lowered to the ground. A cloud of dust sprang up as the metal hit the ground. The beskar clad man was quick to make his way to the two people in the yard. Happy to see Grogu for a bit. Grogu, in turn, cooed loudly upon seeing Mando.

"He has been behaving very well. He is slowly picking up his lessons. Every day his connection with the Force grows stronger" the sandy haired man said as he stopped in front of the metal clad bounty hunter. "I'm happy to hear that" the bounty hunter said, stroking the baby's green ears affectionately.

Luke handed Grogu over to Din. "I hope to have him back by dinner-" "Actually," Mando interrupted the Jedi Master. "I was wondering if you would like to join us.. Just for today. I think Grogu would like it" to which the Child indeed cooed loudly, raising a clawed hand towards Luke. "I understand if you are busy but he- we would very much like it"

It wasn't often that he saw the beskar clad man in a nervous state. In fact, he can't remember if he ever got nervous before. But Din was moving his weight from one leg to the other and looking around anywhere but at Luke. It was kind of cute...

Luke stowed away his thoughts for now and just grinned at the tall man in front of him. "I would very much like to. I don't go on many adventures anymore. Let me inform my second in command and I shall join you" he said, staying professional even though there wasn't really any reason to be this professional to the man.

Din nodded and turned to his ship, carrying Grogu to it as Luke made his way to his second in command. He quickly relied the message that he would be gone for the afternoon but would hopefully return before midnight. As he finished instructing the Twi'lek female, he made haste to join the father and son on the ship.

It didn't take long for Luke to be settled in and Mando to start the ship. The planet on which he build the new Jedi temple becoming smaller until he felt the familiar lurch of lightspeed. It took a few seconds before Luke was comfortable enough to talk to the Mandalorian.

"Where are we going?" He first asked. He knew he could look into the Mando's head for answers, but he had too much respect to infiltrate the man's mind. "A planet called Corvus. It isn't the most comfortable planet, but we want you to meet someone." Din responded. Grogu gurgled happily and Luke could vagually make out what he was saying: "Very nice, she is. Helped us, she did".

"Who is 'she'?" Luke asked, more to himself than to the two other beings in the cockpit. But nonetheless Mando responded: "You will see, no need to ruin the surprise".

It took exactly two hours when they started to lower into the atmosphere of Corvus. Luke looked at the fires that spread through it. Like it was never meant to be a forest planet, but trees grew anyway just to burn down because of the drought. As they landed close by a walled village, the white mist was almost omenous as ashes hung in the air.

Luke sensed her. She was somewhere inside the village. She almost seemed familliar even though Luke was certain that he never felt such a Force signature before. Whoever she was, was powerful, and most likely has trained like a Jedi. He wondered if she was interested in joining the Jedi again.

Before he realised it, the trio was decending from the Crest and started to walk into the village. Luke followed Din like an uncertain puppy. Because even though he was strong, he felt very out of place on this planet.

It seemed like the crackling of far away forest fires were always heard. Other than that, and the trio's footsteps, the village was quiet. Not many people were out and about and those that were slunk into the background. Luke had no idea why but he had a feeling that Din has scared these people a little.

It wasn't a big village and soon they were met with double doors. They were already opened, seemingly jammed and melted into place by a familiar weapon. Luke's fingers subconsciously stroked his own Lightsaber as they passed through the beautiful garden and to the last and biggest home in the village.

Before Din could knock, the doors flew open and a Togruta woman stood in front of them. Luke could make out a few wrinkles in her face. Her eyes shone wisdom and loss and on her belt she had two 'saber hilts. Even though he had felt her presence before, he was surprised to see the two powerful weapons hanging from her belt.

"Mando, Grogu. It is very nice to see you again. I see you have found a Jedi to train him? Please, do come in" the woman's smooth voice said. The trio stepped into the home and followed their host to the living room. As they all sat down, Grogu playing with a piece of fabric on the floor, Din introduced the two.

"Luke, this is Ahsoka Tano. Ahsoka, Luke Skywalker." As the words left the Mandalorian's lips, the two people looked at eachother with wide eyes. "That's why you are familiar.. It is a pleasure, Luke, to finally meet you. I knew your parents..." She drifted off, thinking back to her Padawan time, thinking of 'her' Skyguy.

Mando had quietly taken Grogu with him outside to let the two Jedi talk. The moment Ahsoka had spoken, he felt like the two needed to speak in private, and havinf a babbling kid around wouldn't help them get to talking. This was a private moment, he knew.

Back with the two Jedi, Luke carefully placed his hand on Ahsoka's. "I have never met them.. truly met them. But I know they cared for you, miss Tano. Ben told me about you" he said, trying to comfort the Togruta woman. "Please," Ahsoka said "call me Ahsoka. And.. who is Ben, if you don't mind me asking? I don't think I've met one" her mind fluttered through memories, trying to remember a 'Ben'.

"My aunt, uncle and I knew him as Ben Kenobi, but his true name was Obi-Wan Kenobi." Luke said calmly. He could see one hundered emotions go through Ahsoka's eyes. Her Force signature seemed to pulse with the same emotions. Happiness, sadness, admiration, respect, hope, love and grief. "Master Kenobi... I... I felt him join the Force a while ago.." Ahsoka swallowed thickly. "He was a nice man. A very good General. Caring, but he never truly understood Anakin" Ahsoka smiled at a few memories that fluttered through her mind. So strong, that they were projected in Luke's mind. Visions of the start of the Clone Wars projected in his mind. A young Ahsoka standing next to a tall, dark haired man he assumed to be his father, Anakin, and a slightly shorter man with an auburn beard that looked very much like a young Ben Kenobi.

"Sorry" Ahsoka said, as the memories stopped playing. "I don't think back a lot to.. that time. I wish you could've met your father... I still cannot believe he changed to the Dark Side" Ahsoka sighed. She was about to stand up as Luke responded to her: "That is the thing, I have met him. In the end, I got to see him. The real him. Anakin. And though our moment was brief, his love was real, and I am glad to have met him" his words shocked Ahsoka. Tears pricked in her eyes as she looked around the room. "I want to believe you-" she whispered, the tears now streaming down her face.

"He is telling the truth" a voice behind them said. Turning around, the two were met with the blue Force Ghost of Anakin Skywalker. "My son is telling the truth, Snips" a smile formed on Anakin's face as he looked at his old Padawan with fondness.

"Skyguy..."

#dinluke #lukedin #padawan #oneshot #grogu #babyyoda #ahsoka #ahsokatano #snips #Anakin #anakinskywalker #skywalker #its kinda really adorable #masterlist

80 notes · View notes

morganas-pendragons · 3 years

Text

Willow | Din Djarin

life is a willow and it bent right to your wind..

long story short | no body, no crime | song #3: willow

this got away from me, i am not sorry

tags: @snippy-tano / @mackstrut / @majorshiraharu / @sacred-things / @wonderlandgabby / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol / @roseofalderaan

set during chapter 14

Din.

His name still rolls around inside your head like the waves of a storm building over the ocean. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. He had bared himself, soul and all, for you to know the most intimate details of a life that no one else has had the privilege to know.

But someone can only bend so far before they snap.

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind..

It should have been easy. You and Din had brought Grogu from Corvus to Tython so the baby could use the Force Conduit to call out to any of the remaining Jedi left in the galaxy. It was supposed to be a means that would further lead him to his people.

And lead him further away from you and the man he called his father.

“What’s he doing on the magic rock?” Din questions skeptically.

“Entering a meditative state, you di’kut.” You reply, eyeing The Mandalorian who stands at your side as you both eye your child. Grogu was young in terms of his species. You knew that. Despite his limited experience with formal training during his time at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his reach to the other remaining Jedi was remarkable. The field he’d created was impenetrable. You and Din couldn’t get through it. “It’s a conduit. A conduit that’s powerful, Din. We can’t get through it.”

“You can’t either?” Din asks. “You’re-You’re a Jedi too, you should be able to get through!”

The desperation in his voice is palpable. Seeing Grogu in the midst of the act is forcing Din to realize just who his son is - how powerful he is, and how he is so far out of his depth right now - and that, eventually, he will lose him too. Just as he’s lost everyone else, and will inevitably lose you.

“Grogu.”

It’s so hard not to fall in love with the man when he holds that beskar ball the baby loves to play with up between two fingers and gently calls out his name. Grogu has made it abundantly clear that he is a daddy’s boy and thus never fails to make his father laugh with the response he gives to his name.

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that he made Din laugh to hear anything else.

Din won’t lose you today. Not tomorrow, but someday. Men like Din Djarin don’t get happy endings, no matter how badly they want them.

And as you sit there tucked into his side, head tilted upward towards a helmeted face that’s most likely beaming beneath the mask, you realize that this is where you’d like to spend the rest of your life.

You and him. Him, when you had no one else. Sounds like the ideal happy ending.

“Until he’s done communicating to the other Jedi,” You reach down to the belt at your waist and remove one saber, then two, and ignite both blades as you peer over the side of the hill. “We have to protect the child.”

The two of you take off down the hill.

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow

Over the treeline, Slave One lands in the clearing with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand on board.

I’m begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That’s my man

Din yanks you behind one of the largest boulders as a series of shots rings out. It’s most definitely the man who had landed the ship over the hill, and he seems interested in Din. “I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.” He calls out, unaware of your presence as Din clamps his hand down harder on your mouth.

“Are you Jedi?”

“Are you kidding me?” You seethe through your Bond -which is always fun because Din is never expecting it - eyes narrowing in annoyance as you tilt your head upward to see if you can glance a peek at the newcomer. “Does everyone look Jedi to you?”

The minute Din lets go of you, the newcomer removes his hood and you are greeted with a face you’ve seen multiple times before in your dreams from when you were younger: The same face that over a million soldiers for the Grand Army of the Republic had shared.

“Boba Fett?”

That definitely catches the newcomer off guard. You’d only seen him in passing - only each other’s faces, never names - since the last time you’d been on Tatooine, well before you’d met Din, but you had failed to mention to the Mandalorian that you had been part of the reason that Boba Fett had lost his armor to begin with.

“You.”

***

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in

You’d give Boba Fett credit for his ingenuity. You had known upon meeting him that he was a talented bounty hunter, but he was lethal. You’d never in a million years anticipated him being so deadly in the face of storm troopers.

Then again. He was a clone.

As if you were a mythical thing Like you were a trophy or a champion ring But there was one prize I'd cheat to win

“If you were given the option, what would you cheat to win? What would be your prize for falling in love with him?” Cara had asked you idly when the two of you had returned to Nevarro.

“The best one. The one I already have.” You had murmured in reply. “His heart.”

“Din!” You yelled. The Mandalorian’s head snapped into your direction, wild and alert, as you rolled in front of him and held your sabers in an X formation. “Sword and shield!”

Din removes the second blaster from the holster against his thigh, and together the two of you mirror one of the very movements you had perfected with your clone troopers during The Clone War. You had been young.. but you remembered.

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

When it’s evident that Boba and Fennec have control of the valley in which the Stormtroopers are trying to overrun them on, the two of you sprint back up the hill hand in hand to try and retrieve your child.

Grogu is still in contact. The sight of him so at ease as he reaches out to the ends of the galaxy in search of another Jedi - one that is not you, because the person acting as his other parent cannot be the one to warn him against attachments - makes your heart ache because that ease is what he should know. What he should’ve been able to live on a world where the Empire wouldn’t try to hunt him down and slaughter him for simply being alive.

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

“Sarad!” Din yells. “It has to be you! I-I can’t-” The tips of his boots dig into the ground as he pushes himself forward, lifting each foot as he does, because Din is simply desperate enough to fight a cosmic stone. “I can’t-hold onto-him!”

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind...

They count me out time and time again

You trudge forward. It’s so difficult to fight this, but you do. You trudge forward despite the pain, despite the gnawing fear that you won't be strong enough to retrieve your son, and with a bloodcurdling scream you push your hands through the field.

Your fingers touch his robes before you’re thrown backwards and land right on top of Din.

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

“Sarad, please.” Din’s hands cradle your cheeks as your vision swims in and out, and your head is aching and you want to sleep but your child is in danger, the man you love is in danger, you cannot just-

“I’m here.” You murmur, pressing your aching forehead against that of his helmet as he slowly hoists you to his feet. “Life hasn’t broken me yet.”

He’s so kriffing proud underneath the stupid beskar. Din only hopes you can feel it through the Force.

Head dried with blood, you throw your hair over your shoulder and cast a look down into the valley. One saber ignites, and then two.

Din watches your back as you both retreat back down the hill. What you both remain ignorant to is that the moment you turn around, Grogu disengages and the field dissipates.

Your son lays his weary head to rest.

***

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your heart aches for him. The minute that things seem like they’re starting to go right, a single shot rings clear from the sky and blows The Razor Crest to kingdom come. Your home. Grogu’s home. Din’s home.

The Mandalorian doesn't say a word. He just stands there and breathes in the wake of the destruction.

“The kid!”

You, Din and Fennec turn around and take off back up the hill to try and reach Grogu before whoever is coming above him. There are four of them - robotic in nature - and they are coming in fast.

“DIN!”

Lungs heaving, blood pumping, heart pounding, your feet slam against the Earth as you use the Force to launch yourself in the direction of the baby-- only for him to be taken into the arms of the dark trooper as you make a less then graceful landing.

Your knees give out beneath you as your face nearly collides with the rock beneath your hands. Gravel bites into your palms. You don’t care.

They took your son.

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

“Grogu.” You whisper. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut, you wish away the overwhelming feeling of tears that pool in your eyes - you’ve gotten alot more used to heartbreak since the genocide of the Jedi - and focus on the thrumming Force signature of the baby. “Stay safe, ad’ika.”

You don’t dare tell Din the emotions that radiate from his tiny form. It’s not fear. It’s anger.

When all is said and done, the three of you find yourself back in the ashes of The Razor Crests remains. Din sifts through until he comes up with an object, tiny and silver in nature, and you swear your heart drops into your stomach when he pockets it. Grogu’s ball.

“They took your son, Jedi.” Fennec murmurs, almost as if she can feel the way you are trying so hard to keep yourself composed, and lays a hand on your shoulder. It’s not the comfort you’d take from the man you love but it is more then enough. “You are allowed to grieve.”

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow

As Din talks with Boba and Fennec, you disappear over the hill back in the direction of the rock and ignite your sabers. Jedi are not supposed to deal with their anger this way. You don't care.

They took your son.

The first one goes flying down the hill by control of your capable hand, arcing through a cluster of trees at its base until there is nothing left but smoldering limbs.

You don’t care.

They took your son. The son of you and Din. His son.

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

“You abandoned me.” You whisper. When no one replies, you say it just a little bit louder and with alot more force- “YOU ABANDONED ME! After everything I did, after all I lost-” Images of your final days in the Jedi Temple flash before your eyes like the images of a holodrama played out frame by frame as you are forced to watch clones murder your teachers, your friends, your family..

A hand comes up to clasp your own, stained in blood.

A scream echoes down a empty hall. A gun fires. Clones shout orders at one another.

A bloodied body collapses at your feet, lightsaber rolling from limp fingers.

These images flood your mind until they dissipate like smoke and leave you in a shattered reality where you have again lost everything you care for. “You have the audacity to take him away from me?! Why?!”

The Force hums in your ear. You see the clones who murdered your family, who killed your Master, all the clones you had been forced to kill because it was them or you.

Just like right now, it was the child or you and din. They chose The Child. They chose the one who could barely defend himself. He was so innocent. So gentle.

Why did the Empire have to ruin all the gentle things?

You throw your arm as far as you are able and send the second saber in the same direction as the first one, using bloodied hands to guide the arc made between the two as they dissect the trees in half. “Have I not suffered enough?!”

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

A small voice echoes in the wake of your anguish, “What about me?” Din asks through the vocoder and catches you so off guard that your sabers come soaring into the sky and disengage with a snap of your fingers before returning to your hands. The valley beneath you is nothing but ruin. How appropriate. “Have I not suffered enough, Sarad?” A pause before his trembling hands at his sides clench themselves into fists. Your eyes follow the defeat in his body language until your eyes are high enough that if the helmet were not on, you’d be looking directly into his own. “Have I not paid enough?” Din crosses the gap between you and lightly taps the beskar’gam. “Have I... have I not lost enough?!”

It’s not like him to yell. Not at you. Not around you.

Was the price not high enough? What else can they take from me?

Your lips quiver as you eye the man in front of you. Without uttering another word - and in spite of the tears that fall freely down your face - your gaze never tears away from his own as you remove his glove and link each finger, one by one, until your hands are linked.

Then you lift them to your lips, unlike your fingers, and kiss each fingertip.

“You haven’t lost me.” Din wraps an arm around your waist to gently pull you into his hold, fingers curling around your hips as he peers at you through the visor. You can’t see his eyes, but you imagine there’s tears reflecting in them.

“I will. I lose everybody. That’s why I’m lone wolf, that’s why until I met you... I was always alone.” He laughs bitterly. “A Mandalorian and his ghosts. What a pair we make.”

You wonder if Din’s ghosts are anything like your own, wearing the faces of the people who’d left you. Who'd sacrificed themselves for you.

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind...

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he exhales shakily and rests his forehead against your own. Fennec and Boba are waiting for the two of you in Slave One, but they’re not in a rush. You have work to do in order to rescue your son from Moff’s Cruiser.

As much as you hate it, the rescue of your child can wait for a moment if it means you can comfort Din. If Din can get to be human and grieve. He needs this moment so you can reassure him that no matter what The Empire - or the remnants of it - tries to take from him, you refuse to be a victim of it. You refuse to break.

You won’t give them that satisfaction.

“You won’t.” You promise. “I belong to you. I am imprinted on you, Din. Heart,” You take one hand and press it against your chest, spreading his fingers over the pounding of your heart as you take your other hand to curl your fingers around the bottom of his helmet. You won’t lift it though. Not until he gives you permission. “Body, soul.”

Those words ring in his mind as he takes his helmet off and allows it to clatter against the ground. The seeing stone looms behind him as his focus shifts away from that which has been taken from him, and that which is in front of him.

You.

“We’re going to get him back.” You murmur against the shell of his ear as, for that sole moment, he allows himself a luxury he is so often denied. “We are going to bring our son home.”

Din’s face falls to your shoulder and he hides himself away from the world there. For that sole moment, he allows himself to be... human.

What a luxury that a galaxy this one cannot afford him. What a luxury.

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind...

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x Reader #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

134 notes · View notes

cal-kestis · 3 years

Text

You Come Around And The Armor Falls | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part II of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: You and Din continue your travels across the galaxy. A trip to Tython reveals your path and a stay in Sorgan breaks down Din's barriers. But red-stained visions will lead you both on a dangerous journey you can only hope to survive. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually) Word Count: 7105 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, cuddles, Din tells you more stories about Grogu and gives you a new nickname A/N: This chapter is very soft :’)

[PART I] // [Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Tython is a mountainous terrain, a landscape of rocky slopes and bumpy hillsides.

From the viewport of the cockpit, you see a small mountain with six protruding pillars arranged in a circle on top. That must be the place.

The Mandalorian — Din — makes a joke about traveling the last stretch with the windows down as he circles around it, chuckling to himself at some secret memory before landing the ship far from the ancient-looking pillars.

When you exit the ship, he turns to you with his arms outstretched. And when he tells you to grab on, you back away immediately, finally understanding his joke.

“We can definitely walk,” you argue, shaking your head and strutting past him.

“That’ll take too long,” he sighs, gently taking hold of your wrist until you stop in your tracks. “It would be dark by the time we got there.”

“I don’t give two bantha ticks. There’s no way in Malachor that I’m letting you dangle me through the air like a kriffing womp rat.”

“You say the strangest things when you’re angry,” Din chuckles.

“Don’t you have another jetpack?” You demand, ignoring his comment.

“Even if I did, you haven’t been trained in the Rising Phoenix.”

“The what?”

“Just hold on,” he mutters and you imagine his eyes rolling, a grin on his lips. He pulls your hands toward him, wrapping them around his neck. One of his arms rests on your lower back and the other scoops you up behind your knees, cradling you against his chest. Flames burst from his jetpack, launching the pair of you off the ground ungracefully as he adjusts to carrying another person. Your grip tightens around him for dear life and he can’t fight the smile on his lips when he feels you bury your face into his neck as he flies high above the mountains toward the pillars.

“We are never doing that again,” you say once your feet finally touch the ground.

“Come on. It’s not that bad,” he says, holding your shoulders as you regain your balance. “The kid loved it.”

You scoff, taking in the scene around you. The pillars look much taller up close, towering above you from all sides and pointing to the middle of the round platform where a smooth mound lies dead center. It’s covered in dirt save for the few shrubs that managed to blossom from the dry ground.

“It’s a rock,” you say, unimpressed as you circle the half sphere.

“Seeing Stone,” he corrects.

“Fine. It’s a stone and I’m seeing it,” you say, turning your gaze on him with your hands on your hips.

It's strangely fitting to look at him and see yourself reflected in the beskar, warped and wavy from the curves of his armor. His hands fall to his hips, mirroring your posture.

“So, what happens next?”

“I don’t know… exactly,” he admits with a long sigh. “There aren’t any controls. I just sat Grogu on the stone and something… happened. Ahsoka said if he reached out through the Force, someone might hear him. So, sit and reach,” he commands, gently nudging you toward the stone.

“Nonsense Jedi bantha crap,” you grumble under your breath, ripping another short chuckle from his chest. You smile, sitting cross-legged on the stone.

“Focus,” he says, hands on either of your shoulders before he backs away, remembering how last time, the energy field had knocked him back more times than he’d care to admit.

You close your eyes, concentrating on something you don’t quite understand. Your eyes screw shut tightly, wrinkling the skin between your brows, and you frown.

“Nothing happened.”

A leather-clad thumb trails a gentle line down the furrow between your brows, smoothing the wrinkles by your eyes with a gentleness that tugs your heart so fiercely, you almost fall off the stone.

“It will,” he says softly — confidently.

You open one eye to peek at him, watching as he steps away again and nods, fingers itching to pull his hands back to your face. A blue butterfly appears in front of your nose out of nowhere, another landing on your knee. You watch as they flutter around you in silent encouragement, take a deep breath, and softly close your eyes once more. One clammy palm presses into the stone beneath and you refocus your thoughts, reaching out for one thing: Din.

Din Djarin, a kind, gracious man hidden beneath impenetrable armor. How can someone who never shows his face be the most beautiful person you’ve ever known? You’ve never seen his smile, but you hear it in the baritone of his laughter and teasing. You’ve never seen his eyes but can feel them — concerned, curious, observant, warm — underneath a tinted visor. He gives you pieces of himself in ways that can’t be seen, but in moments that spread heat to your cheeks and flutters to your belly. And he takes little pieces of your heart in exchange. After years of surviving on your own, you never imagined you could care so deeply for another person.

Suddenly, a beam of energy encircles you in blue transparent waves and Din takes a few extra steps back just in case, a triumphant smile on his face as he whispers under his breath, “Good girl.”

He paces back and forth as you sit atop the Seeing Stone for nearly an hour, your eyes gently twitching, fingers brushing together, locked in a deep trance.

“Then, Grogu may choose his path.” Ahsoka’s words echo in his memory.

He wonders what your path is, if it will continue to weave with his or if it leads you far away. He doesn’t let himself hope, doesn’t let himself imagine — knowing full well how it broke his heart the last time.

Finally, he feels the powerful energy wane, your body collapsing over the stone, and he bolts to your side.

“I’m fine,” you assure him with a hand on the side of his helmet. “Just took a lot out of me.”

He nods, keeping silent despite his eagerness to hear what you found.

“Din,” you whisper, his name sounding like the lullabies of his childhood on your smiling lips. “I heard him.”

Din imagines a hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I heard Grogu,” you clarify and Din’s helmet whips toward you so violently, the way it slices through the wind is practically audible.

“You heard… Grogu?” He stutters quietly.

“Yes!” You squeak excitedly, standing on your feet, your hands holding tight onto his arms for balance. “He had quite a lot to say,” you laugh, and Din lets out a half-sob, half-chuckle, remembering the time his boy babbled nonsense the entire way from Nevarro to Corvus.

“How is he?” Din whispers so quietly he’s not sure if he spoke at all.

“His master says he’s getting stronger each day.” You wish you could see the pride in Din’s eyes. You know it’s there. “And he misses you, a lot.”

Din holds his breath, visibly fighting back tears.

“But he said he’ll see you again soon, just like you promised.”

You leave out the answer you gave to an invitation to join his master. And you leave out Grogu’s parting request: “Please take care of my father. He shouldn’t be alone.” But you tell Din everything else.

Tears drip down his cheeks and you see the wet drops slip out of his helmet and land on his cowl.

“Did you tell him that I—”

“Yes,” you say, a hand on the side of his helmet. “I told him.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his rapidly beating chest — similar to the way you’d done when he'd allowed you onto his ship.

“Thank you,” he says, helmet pressing against the top of your head, his gratitude rumbling through beskar into your skin.

—

vi.

He doesn’t ask you when you plan to leave him.

You don't give any inclination that you plan to stop traveling the galaxy at his side.

So, you find yourselves together on Sorgan, deciding to lay low for a while.

Sorgan is a swampy, humble planet. Nothing like Tatooine. To you, that makes it all the more beautiful.

Din brings you to a small krill farming village, which only adds to the planet’s enchanting charm. Children run through the fields as their laughter wafts in the air, enveloping you in a soothing balm. Men and women kneel over rivers with woven baskets full of the bouncing blue krill, soft smiles etched into their faces as they work.

When the Mandalorian saunters through the village, the children come bounding up to him in hoards, eager grins and grabby fingers boxing him in until he can’t walk any further. You can’t help but laugh as he visibly sighs before kneeling to greet them, accepting a small pink flower from one of the little girls.

Before you had landed, he’d mentioned visiting this village once or twice before. But it’s clear that he hadn’t just passed through. He’d made an impression. You half expect to find a statue of him in the center of the village after seeing the way the children looked up at him with stars in their eyes.

When the children finally leave to play, you follow several steps behind Din, watching his interactions with curious eyes. A beautiful woman with long, raven hair stops him with a gentle smile, her eyes softening with vast yet familiar constellations reflecting in her irises. It seems like there’s a history between Din and the raven-haired woman — something he’d failed to mention, but you try not to dwell on the uncomfortable way the idea squeezes at your heart.

Whatever Din says to the woman is too quiet to hear from this distance, so you settle for reading his body language. Although he speaks to you far more often now, you find you can understand him even without words.

The woman tilts her chin, a soft smile unwavering on her lips until Din shakes his head, the setting sun reflecting off his helmet as it moves right and left. His shoulders slump and the woman’s smile slips off her face as she reaches a sun-kissed hand toward his elbow and squeezes gently. The woman says something, confidence in her eyes, and Din nods.

Finally, Din glances in your direction and you gravitate toward him without instruction.

“This is Omera,” Din tells you.

The woman — Omera — smiles once again. “Hello. We’re happy to have you both as our guests. I’ll prepare your lodging,” she says, turning on her heel to leave the two of you alone.

“Thank you,” Din says.

When Omera is out of earshot, you can’t keep the tinge of jealousy out of your voice when you say, “She seems nice.”

“She and this village were very kind to us when Grogu and I came here before. We can trust her.”

You nod, more curious to know what he’d just said to the woman.

“Did you tell her about Grogu?” You ask, wondering if you made accurate observations.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

You see his shoulders slump again. Reliving the goodbye is never easy for him.

“It’ll be dark soon,” he says, changing the subject and wordlessly handing you the pink flower one of the children had given him earlier. When you don't take it immediately, he decides to tuck it behind your ear as you do with your pencil, sending a wave of heat down your neck. (Later, when you’re alone, you press the flower between the pages of your drawing pad for safekeeping.)

“Looks like they’re pitching a fire. Hope you like krill.”

Dinner moves at a slow, peaceful pace, accompanied by friendly voices of storytelling strangers. They regale you with the fantastical tale of the legendary Mandalorian and the fearless former Rebel shock trooper who saved them from a band of pirates and a destructive Walker that stood tall above the trees — the two heroes who not only restored harmony but showed this village how to be brave and how to fight for themselves. You feel at ease sipping on spotchka, listening to stories honoring your friends.

But as the thought passes through your mind, ‘friend’ suddenly becomes the strangest word. It fits Cara Dune, the courageous marshal who you’d met several times on Nevarro, the woman you’d shared drinks and laughs with at cantinas, the warrior you’d trust with your life and Din’s life. But Din, your ‘friend’? The word seems to fall short.

After dinner, the villagers retire to their beds one after the other — leaving you and Din at the fire.

Din looks around at all the families, watching as one father carries his son on his back and a mother cradles a swaddled infant in her arms. He sees Omera and her daughter, Winta, in the distance — their hands joined and swinging between them as the little girl skips toward their humble home.

He clenches and unclenches his fists, the leather gloves silently screeching as the material sticks and peels away from itself again and again. His brows pinch together as he stares down at empty hands — empty hands that had foolishly allowed themselves to get used to holding someone else.

An image pierces his memory: three tiny green claws wrapped around his yellow-tipped thumb.

He blinks, blurry vision refocusing on his hands. Empty.

You watch him intently, feeling sadness roll off of him in waves, drawing you in until you’re submerged just as deep, crestfallen on his ocean floor.

When the heart breaks, no amount of bacta can heal it. You can’t cauterize the lacerations carved inside of him or stitch the pieces together. But you can let your scarred heart bleed and beat next to his, until the heavy thud, thud, thud, thud evolves into the resilient rhythm of a somber symphony only the two of you know.

He exhales. It’s a weary, crackling sound behind his helmet.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice,” he admits quietly like he’s ashamed.

“For him? For Grogu?” You ask.

He nods, the motion almost imperceptible if not for the glint of firelight that flashes off beskar.

“I know you did. Grogu is doing well. He told me himself,” you whisper, opening his clenched fist and molding your fingers between his. “You’re a good man.”

For a moment, the moons and stars disappear at the same time, enveloping you both in inky darkness save for the angry red flames that reflect against his armor. He decides not to speak, not right away, allowing a shivering silence to shroud him as he weighs his next words. The late evening decrescendos into a soft lull of the crackling fire, wind-bristled branches, and a familiar thud, thud, thud, thud.

“Sometimes,” his modulated voice finally rumbles. The dark window of his visor anchors itself on the way your hand completely fills one of his. Then he looks away, beyond the trees, beyond you. “I wonder if that’s true.”

You try to piece the words together yourself, try to make sense of him — how he can’t see what you can see as clearly as the roaring fire.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I was scared to take you to Tython,” he admits.

“Because of what happened with Grogu the last time? You defeated Gideon. The Dark Troopers are gone, nothing was going to happen—”

“Not because of that,” he interrupts, taking a breath. “Because I… don’t want you to leave. And I feel selfish because you should be able to go — to train.”

Your heart beats faster at his admission, your mind mulling over his words to make sure you heard them right. A shaking hand reaches for his helmet, pulling his visor to face you.

“Di— Mando,” you whisper, taking a quick glance at the empty village. “I already chose my path at the Seeing Stone. I’m not leaving,” you reveal to him for the first time. You do everything you can to make him believe your words, squeezing his hand tighter, attempting to send your feelings through your skin into him.

“It isn’t right. You should train. You’re so powerful,” he says, almost to himself.

“No, I’m staying with you. And I know it’s right,” you declare, staring into the T-shaped visor where his eyes are. “You said Grogu knew where he was meant to be when he was young. He trained even before he met you. Letting him continue was the right thing to do for him. You did the right thing,” you argue. “But I didn’t go to some fancy Jedi temple. When I was a kid, all I wanted was... to not be alone anymore. And now, I’m not. This is where I’m meant to be.”

You watch as flames dance across his helmet, his body still as he stays silent. Then, suddenly, your body feels warmer than the crackling fire, encircled in his tight embrace. You stay wrapped together like that for several minutes, limbs wound around each other like vines. You almost fall asleep on his shoulder from the peaceful sound of his breath so close to your ear.

“Come on,” he says, the crown of his helmet now resting against your forehead. He gently detaches you from his body as he stands, extending his hand for you to take once again. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

With your hands joined, gently swinging between your bodies, the two of you walk side by side to your shared lodging.

The hut is small and quaint, sparse in decoration but plentiful in necessity. A bed for two sits nestled in the corner of the single room, the soft orange glow of a lamplight casting hazy, billowing shadows against the wall. Din stands on the threshold, shifting his weight between his feet as you explore the room, your fingers gliding across the soft fabric on the bed.

“All clear, Mando. The bed doesn’t bite,” you tease him, his head shaking — probably rolling his eyes — as he closes the door behind him.

“I’ll take the floor,” he says, removing his cape and laying it on the ground.

“That’s ridiculous,�� you argue, rolling your eyes this time. “We came to Sorgan to relax. You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“I’ve done worse,” he shrugs. You don’t doubt it.

“I don’t care. There’s plenty of space for both of us. If you don’t sleep on the bed, neither will I,” you resolve, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Who’s being ridiculous now?” He says, a hand on his hip as he stares you down. When you don’t relent, he sighs. “Fine.”

You practically bounce with delight, removing your socks and dusting off your clothes before diving under the plush covers. A breathy moan escapes your lips as your body sinks into the mattress and it freezes him in place on the other side of the room.

“Oh, stars. This is heaven,” you hum.

Din approaches the bed like it’s a rancor crouching in wait to devour him whole. His knee hardly touches the top of the mattress before you’re sitting up with another accusatory glare.

“You’re going to sleep in your armor?” You question incredulously.

He doesn’t want to argue in circles with you again, worried the other villagers may be able to hear, so he sits on the edge of the bed and removes each plate of beskar one by one, save for his helmet. He’s left in a long-sleeved top, dark pants, and woolen socks — his hands the only skin on display after removing his gloves.

He turns on the mattress, his feet resting beside yours as he lays his helmet down on a squishy pillow, facing your curious gaze once more.

“When was the last time someone saw your face?” You whisper.

“Not long ago,” he answers truthfully. “The child.”

“And your Creed?”

“He meant more.”

You nod, understanding full well that the love for another being can easily outweigh any rule or law or virtue or doctrine or belief or obligation.

You tuck your hand beneath your pillow, squinting your eyes as if trying to see through the panes of his helmet. You wonder, not for the first time, what he looks like when he rolls his eyes or laughs or smirks. You wonder if his eyes soften when he looks at you the way you know your eyes do whenever he’s near... if a dimple appears in his cheek just for you. Your knees bend slightly, touching his legs.

“What happens if you take off your helmet?”

He doesn’t respond right away, as if looking for the correct answer.

“I used to think I could never put it back on,” he says, pain in his voice as the word ‘traitor’ echoes in his mind. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

You hum in acknowledgment, submerging the room into a long gap of silence, your eyes flitting across his covered face, your own features reflected in the silver steel. He watches as you close your eyes and wonders for a moment if you’ve decided to finally sleep. But then, your hand reaches in the direction of the open flame across the room, and with a flick of your wrist, the lamplight extinguishes, enveloping the room in complete darkness.

“You’re good at that,” he comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“It comes in handy,” you say, the fabric beneath your shoulder rustling as you shrug.

The room is quiet again, the steady sound of soft breathing filling the small space between your bodies.

“Din?” You whisper.

His eyes close at the sound of his name spoken so delicately by your lips. “Hmm.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he answers, not missing a beat.

“I won’t look, I promise. I can’t even see. I just,” you pant as if speaking alone has made you breathless. “I can’t imagine sleeping with a helmet on is all that comfortable. You can take it off. You can trust me.”

Your hand trembles as it blindly reaches for the side of his helmet but his hand immediately traps you there against the beskar. You fear you’ve taken it too far when he pushes your hand back toward your side of the bed.

But then you hear it, the sound of air releasing, a puff of unrestrained breath, metal gently hitting the floor. And then his hand is holding yours again and placing it on his cheek, touching his skin for the first time. His eyelashes flutter against the side of your fingers, closing shut as your other hand tentatively explores the rest of his face.

He’s warm. Soft and rough at the same time. His entire weight leans into your palm and you think, this must be what it feels like to hold the entire universe.

“I never thought—” he suddenly whispers, a jagged inhale, a shaky exhale, his breath touching your lips. “After I lost the kid,” he continues, his thumb caressing your hand on his cheek. “I never thought I’d feel this again.”

You wonder what he means by ‘this.’ Touch? Tenderness? Warmth? Care? Or something much, much deeper?

You desperately wish you could see how he looks in this moment, feeling another person’s skin against his own after depriving himself for so long. Your fingers run across wrinkles and scars and you wonder, not for the first time, how long he’s had to carry these marks and stories all on his own. Your thumb finds the bridge of his nose, trailing down the strong curve until below it, a dense smattering of hair scratches at your skin.

“A mustache?” You ask, amused.

You hear his smile widen when he chuckles. “My father had one.”

It makes your heart ache, remembering the story he told you about his home planet, how his parents had sacrificed their lives to keep him safe. How the siege built his distrust of droids and redirected his faith to the Mandalorians who lifted him out of devastating danger. As you trace his mustache with reverence, you wonder what parts of his mother he wears like armor.

Below that, your thumb drags along the plush outline of his lower lip, from one corner to the other. You swear they’re lifted — at least just slightly. As you move your fingers across his cheeks, you find the shallow dip of a dimple and you smile so big he must be able to see it. His jaw is sharp and prickly, freshly shaved probably the day before.

As he leans heavily into your hand, you think to yourself how much you want to help carry this weight for him.

“Can you say something?” You ask quietly, your hands still touching his skin, careful not to disturb the bubble you’re in.

“What do you want me to say?” He whispers.

“Hmm,” you respond, enjoying the feeling of his voice rumbling through your hand. “Anything. I just like the way you sound.”

For a second, you think you feel his lips press against your palm.

“Cuyan,” he says, the foreign word tickling your skin.

“What language is that?”

“It’s the tongue of my people: Mando’a,” he explains, his cheek stretching upward under your hand. “It’s not spoken much anymore.”

“It sounds beautiful. What does ‘cuyan’ mean?”

His hand falls into your hair, brushing the strands with his fingers. “It means survivor.”

“Like you,” you smile.

“And you.”

You smile wider.

“Stars, please keep talking,” you plead, despite the peaceful yawn slipping from your lips. Your hand on his face wraps around his back instead, holding him like a pillow. Nestling your head over his heart, you feel the strong thud, thud, thud, thud against your ear — your own heartbeat starting to synchronize with his. His hand continues combing through your hair, his chest rumbling with a gentle chuckle.

“Kotep means brave,” he whispers, his voice weaving through the hairs at the crown of your head. “I remember the time I introduced you to Cara Dune. We were in a rush but she was taking her time pummeling someone into the dirt. And you rolled your eyes, took the blaster from her belt, set it to stun, and shot him. Then, you smiled, shook Cara’s hand, and said ‘Nice to meet you.’”

“Kotep,” you mumble, half-awake. “Maybe more stupid than kotep.”

“Sometimes, they’re one and the same,” he chuckles, making your entangled bodies shake. “Mirdala means clever. Like when you snuck onto my ship and convinced me to let you join my crew even though I wasn't looking for one. Or when you rewired the jammers so that our ship could scramble Imperial and New Republic codes.”

“Kotyc means strong. When you saved me from that rancor, I was terrified,” he whispers. He tilts his head down, his lips pressing against your hair as he listens to your slow breathing. You’re fast asleep, arms still wound loosely around him, cheek pressed against his chest. But he keeps talking. “Not of the rancor or even of you. You’re so strong, so powerful, just like the kid. I was terrified I’d have to let you go too. Then, you said you want to stay. And I felt so guilty because I was so relieved. But I want you to stay too, truly, for as long as you want, ner kar’ta. Ner kar’ta means my heart.”

He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Before I met the kid... before I met you, ner kar’ta… I never thought I’d get to have this, whatever this is,” he whispers into your skin. “That was a past life. This is heaven.”

—

vii.

The few nights you stay in Sorgan give you ample time to study his features in the dark, etching them into your mind the way you would on paper.

Every night after the first, he whispers words like cuyan, kotep, mirdala, and kotyc as you fall asleep — some you remember and some you don’t.

When you leave Sorgan, you notice he wears his helmet less. Not outside of the safety of darkness and certainly not outside of the ship. But in quiet, shadowy moments and dim corners of your metal home — he feels comfortable enough to be without it.

He’s giving you a portion of what he knows he can’t fully give to you... not yet. But it’s like he’s inviting you, waiting for your hand to find its place on his cheek once again.

When you retire to your quarters each night, he powers off the lights and whispers, “Good night, ner kar’ta,” faint enough to make you wonder if he means for you to hear it. Ner kar’ta. It’s a beautiful phrase, one from his people’s language. He’d shared it with you that first night he let you know him, feel his skin with its scars and soft expanses. But for the life of you, you can’t remember if he taught you what ner kar’ta means. (You curse that comfortable bed and his warm arms for tempting you to sleep so easily.) The way he says ner kar’ta each time is like a sanctified prayer and you desperately want to know what Divinity has that he wants.

Sleep had never come easy to you before. Not in your years of lonely nights surrounded by danger on Tatooine. Before you met Din, nightmares had been enemies you kept close like friends. Not by your own will, of course.

But nightmares quickly became scarce foes. Living with Din made you feel safe. He’s a protector, but more than that — he shows you the strength you have inside you like a mirror, his bravery reflected in your eyes. Kotep means brave. You remember that.

But as you feel yourself growing more connected to your powers, the Force, your dreams seem more vivid, more rooted in reality, peculiar prophecies. And nightmares feel like omens.

You have a recurring horror story that plays in your mind in fragmented flashes, pieces you’re too scared to dwell on in the clear light of day for fear they may form a mosaic of your own image, cast away in the vast expanse of space. Alone. Again.

Tonight, the nightmare visits you and bathes your thoughts in red. You don't recognize the dreamscape from your travels with your Mandalorian, you only see the way it paints everything in a bloody tint and sets your skin on fire. Then, you see Din — hear him yell in agony under the attack of an invisible enemy. But you’re rooted to the ground, your limbs morphing into distorted vines and branches, dry screams ripping through your throat until you can’t make a sound.

“Din!” You gasp, waking up in a cold sweat in your darkened quarters, the desperate sound of your voice echoing through the ship.

“What’s wrong?” Din sprints in, panting as he skids to a stop. He turns on the lights to reveal himself in only his underclothes and helmet, head snapping back and forth as he examines the scene. When nothing seems out of place, his shoulders relax. “Are you okay?”

Your chest heaves as you attempt to steady your breath, not realizing tears are rolling down your face until he comes forward to wipe one from your cheek.

“It was just a dream,” you say, not fully believing your words. “But it felt so real.”

The edge of your thin mattress sinks at the same time you feel his bare hand brush a sweat-slicked strand of hair out of your face. His fingers comb through your hair and settle at the base of your head before he pulls your face into his soft chest. The steady beating of his heart under your cheek immediately helps yours slow down.

“I’m here. You’re safe,” he says, and all you can do is fist your hand in his shirt and hold onto him, anchor yourself in his solid body because it’s not you that you worry about. Not this time. But you don't tell him about the nightmare or the fragments that have been haunting you the past few days. You just listen to the way he breathes in through his nose and sighs through his lips.

“Scoot over,” he whispers, untangling himself from your arms. You sniffle and do as he asks, giving him room to settle under your covers and wrap his arm around your back so you can use his chest as a pillow. “Do you mind getting the lights?”

You chuckle, closing your eyes and levitating the pencil on your drawing pad until it hits the controls for the lights and blankets the room in darkness. Almost immediately, you hear the hiss of Din’s helmet and the light thud of it hitting the floor before you feel his soft hair touching the top of your head.

He holds you, his thumb stroking the skin on your arm, his breaths coming out as warm puffs against your hair. And like those nights in Sorgan, you let your fingers draw smooth shapes into his skin and rest over his heart.

“Do you want to hear about the time I took Grogu to school?” He asks quietly, indulging you with the deep rumble of his rich voice.

You tilt your face upward and try to see his smile in the pitch black, nodding your head so his shirt beneath your cheek rubs against his chest. You want to hear every story about his past as long as he says it with his voice and his hands on your skin.

“I was on Nevarro, just passing through for repairs. And of course, I ended up on a mission at an Imperial base,” he chuckles, sending vibrations through you.

“Of course,” you laugh with him.

“I couldn’t take the kid with me. Karga and Dune brought me to a school, so I left him there for a while.” Your hand raises to his cheek so you can feel that pull of his smile under your fingers. “Mid-mission, I have to bolt from the base, grab my ship, and pick up the kid on the way. I’m in a rush and the educator droid tries to keep me, saying my son stole some poor boy’s snacks. I don’t have any time for the droid to explain more and just mumble sorry and grab the kid. He’s got little blue crumbs all over his cloak and a silver packet of cookies. He ate so much he got sick on the ship when I flew back to help the others near the base.”

You feel Din shake his head, laughing at the memory.

“I had to let him wear one of my tunics while I washed up his clothes. I even tried sewing up the bottom so it would protect his feet better,” he snickers. “Not the best stitching job I’ve done.”

You don't think your heart has ever felt so full and large and ready to burst. You love listening to him talk about Grogu, the fondness in his voice tugging you impossibly closer to him until the two of you blend into one.

“He whined for hours when he finished those cookies.” He muses, lifting one of your hands and drawing lines on your palm with the tip of his finger. “Such a little womp rat.”

“Wonder where he got it from,” you tease, your voice still scratchy from tears but laughing in genuine amusement.

He scoffs, the mirth never leaving his honeyed voice. “I only ever taught him strength, honor, and loyalty.”

“Oh, I’m sure. This is the Way,” you say, attempting to imitate his deep baritone.

“You really like to give me a hard time, don’t you?” He teases.

“Ah,” you grin. “The Jawa calls the Ewok short.”

He stills before bursting into a full-bodied laugh. “I’ve never heard that one before,” he gasps between wheezes.

You laugh with him, your shaking bodies gradually calming into a slow vibration of charged energy. You can’t see it but you feel his eyes looking into yours when his breaths settle down, his thumb now tracing over the slope of your lip.

“Sleep, ner kar’ta,” he says, stroking his fingers over your hair once more. And you desperately want to ask what it means, why he calls you this beautiful phrase. But soon enough, your eyes are closed and he kisses your head before letting sleep take him as well.

When he wakes in the early hours of the morning, your quarters still mostly covered in the ship’s shadows, he gently slides himself out of your hold and tucks you deeper under the covers, before putting his helmet back on and walking to the fresher.

On his way out of your room, he notices a sliver of light peeking through the doorway and a splash of pink catches his eyes. He looks down to find your open drawing pad sitting on your dresser, the pink flower he gave you on Sorgan pressed and dried onto one page.

And on the page beside it is a rough charcoal portrait of a man that looks vaguely like him. The sketched face shares the hooked curve of his nose, a mustache below it covering his lips, and wavy locks atop his head. But the other features are empty, blanks waiting patiently to be filled in once you fully grasp the picture.

Beside the off-white space where his eyes should be, he sees a note in your scribbled handwriting that reads:

Eye color?

He takes the pencil lying between the stitched binding of the booklet and gives you another piece of himself, writing below your question:

Brown.

—

viii.

When you wake, you half expect to find your cheek still pressed to a warm, beating chest, strong arms wrapped around your body, perhaps even a charming snore blowing the hair at the top of your head. Instead, when you open your eyes, the space beside you is cold and empty, and you wonder if it had all been a fantasy you’d conjured to erase the nightmare that had plagued you moments before.

But when you slip out of bed and pad over to your door, you spot your drawing pad which you’d left open. And below the question you’d scrawled across the page, you find his answer and can finally put a color to his eyes — a rich, warm, melting hue that fits his gaze so perfectly you think there must be a Maker putting these pieces into motion.

You grab the pencil from the booklet, place it behind your ear, and go to find him.

Leaving your quarters, the ship feels unusually frigid and you hold your arms tightly to retain the residual warmth from the bed covers.

When you walk into the cockpit, you half expect to find Din in his plainclothes again, giving you a chance to wrap your arms around his waist and whisper “good morning” into the soft planes of his chest without his beskar blocking the way. Instead, you find him fully-armored, crouched over with his elbows on his knees, helmet hung low and held between gloved hands. In front of him, a holoprojector loops a message from a pale, uniformed woman.

“Din Djarin,” the grave voice addresses him by his full name, sending shivers down your spine. “Yes, I know exactly who you are. If you don’t want the entire galaxy to put a name to your face, you will help me devise a plan to release Moff Gideon from the New Republic detainment facility. We will send you coordinates to an Imperial base shortly.”

The blue projection vanishes briefly before starting again in a haunting cycle.

“Din,” you whisper, startling him out of his stupor, his helmet whipping around as if ready to take aim and fire. You walk toward him slowly, kneel in front of him with a gentle hand on his knee, and face the holoprojector. “Who is that? How do they know your name?”

He sighs, his helmet falling into his hands once more.

“When Gideon took the kid, I had to make a choice,” he says, voice rough and ragged despite the hours of restful sleep he got the night before. “I snuck into an Imperial rhydonium refinery on Morak to get Gideon’s coordinates from a data terminal. But the terminal required a facial scan.”

“They have your face in Imperial data archives,” you gasp, the understanding poisoning your veins and causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

“They have everything in the archives,” he corrects, his modulated voice distant and detached. “And they’re about to take it all away.”

“No,” you whisper. Standing up suddenly, anger washes over you at his quick defeat. “No! I won’t let them. There must be something we can do.”

“I won’t free Gideon,” Din says, stern and almost frightening in his resolve.

“I’m not saying we break him out,” you respond, hands up in defense. “But there’s always more than one way to skin a womp rat.”

Your heavy footsteps echo in the small space of the cockpit as you pace back and forth. Din’s helmet follows you slowly as you walk in circles and he sees the gears turning in your mind. You pull the pencil behind your ear towards your lips and gnaw at it with your teeth, an action he quickly learned meant not to talk to you lest your brewing idea slips from your skull. The holoprojector repeats its threat over and over, the voice grating against the metal walls until it begins to sound like an endless shriek. And with a roar of frustration, your clenched fist comes flying down onto the holoprojector until the image fizzles away.

“I’ve got it.”

The plan goes as follows: Send the Mandalorian to the Imperial base under the guise of full cooperation and stall the holoprojector Imp for as long as possible. This will give you enough time to sneak in through an air vent (“Or… something.” “Or something?” “Yes, Mando. Whatever’s convenient at that moment!”), find a terminal, and hack the system, wiping every Imperial archive of Din Djarin.

“That’s a horrible plan,” he says.

“It’s not ‘horrible,’” you argue.

“It’s dangerous.”

“You got something better?” You challenge.

His long sigh is enough of an answer.

“So, we’re doing it then,” you say, suddenly a million times more nervous than when you’d laid out your blueprint for him. “Punch in those coordinates. Let’s go pay a visit to some Imps.” [READ PART III]

End Notes: Please support this story with a reblog or comment in the replies! I’d love to know what you think of it so far. :) (Also, I know the Seeing Stone is more of a beacon but let's just say you can talk to other force-sensitives if you meditate deep enough.) Btw, zoom into the moodboard to see the sketch of Din. Should I upload the full size? Mando’a Glossary: Cuyan = survivor [koo-YAHN] Kotep = brave [KOH-tehp] Mirdala = clever [MEER-dah-lah] Kotyc = strong [koh-TEESH] Ner kar’ta = My heart (kar’ta = heart [kah-ROH-ta]; ner = my [nair]) Star Wars slang: The Jawa calls the Ewok short = When somebody comments on or accuses someone else of a fault which the accuser shares.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #taole #mine*

74 notes · View notes

joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

It All Makes Sense Now

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

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.8K

Summary: The three of you land on Corvus to find a Jedi, but what starts out as a simple job is quickly turned into a truth you definitely weren’t prepared to face

A/N: okay sorry peeps but no smut in this one...I did say slow burn, right? hahahahaha. there's a bit of fluff towards the end, but this chapter focuses more on the reader's relationship with the force and their conflicting feelings, but it's not all bad, we have a special guest in the next two chapters! besides that... this basically a shit ton of angst. also, I split this chapter in two so the next update should be within the next week?

Warnings: ummmm there’s a small mention of torture? (like in the ep the Jedi with the prisoners strung up outside the magistrate’s gate but other than that... I don't think there’s anything but pls tell me if there’s something I missed!)

-----

Your body jolts awake to the sudden drop out of hyperspace. Panic quickly sets into your blood as you try to get your bearings, but once you see Mando sitting quietly in his chair along with the Child sitting on the control panel just to his right, your heartbeat steadies, and a wave of relief washes over you. Using the heels of your palms to rub at your eyes and clear your vision, you catch sight of the planet Mando had mentioned just before takeoff on Tatooine through the transparisteel.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” He addresses as he hears you stir, still keeping the visor glued to the view in front of him.

“Mmm,” You groan back, still somewhat asleep and unable to use your words to answer him properly.

“Corvus, this is the place,” Mando’s voice cuts through the gentle hum of the ship. “I’ve detected a beacon.” You’re about to answer him when you realize that he wasn’t even talking to you to begin with. He was talking to the kid.

The Child looks up at him, and coos as if they’re having a conversation with each other even though they clearly don’t speak the same language, and don’t understand what the other is saying.

“I’m gonna start the landing cycle. You better get back in your seat.”

He looks up again at Mando, but doesn’t budge from where he’s currently seated. Turning his gaze to one of the levers on the control panel, he stares at the durasteel ball just atop of the handle. You’re not sure why the kid loves that ball so much, but it clearly means a lot to him because you’ve seen the way he gets upset or fussy whenever Mando tries to take it away from him.

“Hey,” He warns—not in an aggressive way, but a stern way like a child being scolded by their parent. “What did I tell you? Back in your seat.”

This time the kid listens, letting out a chuff of air before crawling down the little ledge he was seated on previously and gently scuttling back to the seat to your left.

Maker, your body aches. Sleeping in the chair every night has seriously done a number on your bones and muscles. Twisting your upper body and using the back of the chair to hold yourself in place, a series of smalls cracks echo through the cockpit, and it somewhat releases a bit of the tautness in your back and along your spine. Suddenly becoming aware that you haven’t taken a sanisteam in…well you’re not sure exactly how long it’s been since you left Tatooine, but it’s definitely been long enough; you could seriously benefit from one right now.

Using your palms to push yourself up to your feet by your knees, you inform Mando you’ll be heading down to clean yourself up. “I’ll be ready to go once we land.”

“All right.” He says matter-of-factly.

You wait a couple of seconds before moving, elongating your arms above your head before bringing one of them behind you and stretching out your bicep, holding your elbow with your other arm. You repeat the process with the opposite arm and feel your body slowly coming back to life. A sanisteam is starting to sound better and better with every second. Your feet guide you to the ladder and take two rungs at a time, feet hitting the ground in record time. Not even bothering to wait until you reach the fresher, you strip out of your clothes and gather them together in a small pile atop one of the crates lingering around in the hull.

Once in the fresher, you turn on the water to almost the hottest setting possible. It stings your skin at first, but your body quickly acclimates to the heat, muscles slowly relaxing in response to the gentle massage the showerhead exudes as it hits you, releasing the stiffness from your body. Truthfully, you could stay in this tiny space for hours and just let the water continue to cascade down your skin until your fingertips were wrinkled like a Dressellian prune, but you don’t want to use up all of the hot water since you’re not the only one on this ship who needs to sanisteam. The longer the water pressure falls onto your upper body, you begin to feel a sharp pain on your left shoulder, and you’re forced to recoil from the water in an effort to stop the throbbing ache. Inspecting your naked form to find the source of the discomfort, you notice a large, plump purple bruise nestled between the crook of your neck and the top of your shoulder. It’s a dark shade of purple, with swirls of yellow and forest green surrounding it. When the Kriff—

Oh.

It suddenly comes back to you.

The firm grip on your shoulder.

The feeling of Mando’s cock on your tongue.

His moans.

Fuck, it’s enough to make your own groan echo through the walls of the refresher.

Maker, pull yourself together!

Giving yourself a gentle slap on the cheek in an effort to knock those filthy thoughts out of your mind and knowing the Crest will be landing in the next couple of minutes, you quickly wash the grime off your body while trying to be mindful of your bruise, and rinse yourself off before grabbing your only remaining clean pair of clothes left, dressing hurriedly just as you hear his footsteps reach the top of the ladder. Your clothes stick to your wet skin, and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but you try not to pay too much attention to it; you’ll dry up eventually.

The Mandalorian descends the ladder, the Child burrowed in one arm, then hands him off to you as he heads to the armory to grab his pulse rifle.

“Hey,” He says before calling your name to get your attention. Turning his body towards you, his arm extends out in your direction, a blaster in his hand. Your eyes shift down to the gun, taking notice of it before your brows pull together tightly, shifting your gaze back up to him in confusion.

“You should probably take this back. Just in case,” He gestures the gun at you, holding the barrel of it so you can grab the handle. It’s a small act, giving you back your blaster, but there’s an unspoken message as he hands you your gun. He now trusts you enough not to shoot him and run off, and at the same time, this gives you the reassurance you needed that he no longer views you as just a quarry, but as his partner.

Putting the kid down for a moment to grab your bag and ruffle through it to retrieve your thigh holster, you strap it around your leg and plop the blaster into the pouch. Once you turn around to pick the Kid back up, you notice he’s already by the back ramp with Mando, both waiting for you to catch up with them.

You head down the ramp first, walking a few feet away from the Crest and taking an immediate scan of the area, as you always do whenever you’re in new territory. It comes at almost as a shock to you that Mando doesn’t instantly head down after you. Instead, he stays at the top of the ramp with the kid, waiting for you to give them the ‘okay’. The sun can barely penetrate the dense amount of cloud here, the area is covered in fog as far as the eye can see, making you shift anxiously. The faint cry of the native beasts’ boom in the distance, making your skin crawl.

Mando’s landed the Crest in a small clearing. The trees appear to be snags—lifeless due to its climate and the lack of sunlight, making the whole planet even more eerie. The quicker you meet the Jedi, the quicker you can get off this planet.

“Not much to see here,” You announce, slightly disappointed by the scenery. When you don’t immediately see a threat, you gesture with your hand that it’s safe to come down, and so he does. The fact that Mando now acknowledges the routine you’ve created isn’t lost on you. In truth, it makes your heart swoon because you both know that he doesn’t needto wait for you. Mando’s more than capable of checking for threats himself, and defending you both if someone tries to ambush you, but he knows it puts you at ease to check for yourself, and the fact that he’s indulging you in this small service shows you he’s more of a softy than he lets on.

As Mando walks towards you, he hears the kid huffing behind him and turns his body to face the little baby waddling down the ramp before falling back on his bum. You make out a small sphere in his hands and realize it’s the knob from the lever in the cockpit. When did he snatch that and how did Mando not see him take it?

“What did I say about that?” He disciplines, taking the ball from his hands and holding it out in front of him. “This needs to stay in the ship.” The Child looks up at him fondly, chattering incoherently as he watches Mando place the ball in his utility belt.

“Never had dealings with a Jedi before,” He admits before leaning down to pick up the Child and placing him in the makeshift pouch he designed for the baby that’s strapped across his cuirass. “Let’s head into town. See if we can pick up a lead.”

He walks ahead of you just by a couple feet. Your hand hovers over your blaster the entire time, body on edge as you both make your way through the forest. The air is hot and humid, almost suffocating—you can only imagine how hot Mando must feel under all that armor. Your clothes stick to you like glue, a mix of water from the sanisteam as well as from the damp air. Every now and then, the Child babbles nonsense and Mando answers him like he knows exactly what the kid is saying. “Don’t worry, Kid. We’re okay.”

It’s quite endearing, seeing such a gentle side to the Mandalorian. You know not many people have had the opportunity to see these little moments, making this that much more special. Watching two beings, appearing to have nothing in common, and clearly coming from two very different upbringings, but having such a deep connection you’re not sure you’ll ever fully understand is quite a beautiful sight. It makes you appreciate these moments so much more. Mando’s letting you in on these precious exchanges, and you’ll cherish them for as long as you live.

After walking for what feels like hours, off in the distance you catch sight of a giant wall made of duracrete, and can faintly make out little blobs at the top of the wall; soldiers by the looks of it.

“A fortified city?” You ask him.

“Seems like it.” He answers as you draw closer to the gates. “Let me do the talking, all right?” He says, more of an order than an actual statement, but you choose not to argue. Mando usually knows better than you, and you’ve shown that you have a tendency to lose your temper, therefore he’s definitely the better mediator between you two.

As you both appear from the edge of the forest, the guards atop the parapet flock to the front gate, their rifles pointed at you. Mando stops just a few metres shy of the gate, waiting. A man suddenly appears, studying you both.

“State your business.” He shouts, standoffish.

“Been tracking for a few days,” The Mandalorian begins to say. You continue studying the gunslinger as well as the other soldiers whose rifles are still pointed at you. Hand continuing to hover merely inches above your blaster, your body fighting the urge to turn this into a fight. “Looking for a layover.”

The man shifts his gaze between you and Mando, clearly debating whether or not to shoot you both where you stand.

“Nice armor.” He jests.

Kriff, you don’t like the look of this. You’re both severely outgunned, and despite the beskar amour Mando wears, that doesn’t guarantee that you’ll live through this if a fight ensues.

The man to your left doesn’t answer, opting to gauge the gunslinger’s demeanor, waiting for him to press you again. “You a hunter, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Both of you?” His stare turns to you, so you glare back at him, refusing to back down and cower under his own piercing scowl.

“Yes.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

The helmet turns slightly in your direction as if warning you to watch your tone. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you straighten out your shoulders and let your arm drop to your side, no longer hovering over your blaster.

“Guild?”

“Last I checked.” Mando answers, a glint of annoyance is hidden under the deepness of his baritone.

The man studies you two for a couple more seconds, then orders the guards to open the gate. Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you start to feel like this will be the beginning of a very tense day. Better to keep quiet and let Mando handle this, since you tend to shoot first then ask questions later. Your partner is much more of the level-headed one—who would have thought that?

The city itself is small, and very quiet—way too quiet for any normal city. Every city and village you’ve visited have been vibrant and loud, with native villagers and visitors mingling together, but here? The residents walk silently, keeping their heads down, and only peeking at you both through the corners of their eyes. The guards walk around, hands planted firmly on their rifles, as if to be looking for trouble. Immediately, your bones tense and that anger you have trouble controlling begins to bubble up inside you. These villagers seem trapped—Maker, even the kids aren’t running around. They’re stuck to their parents like glue, never taking a single step away from them. This is a city under a gruesome Magistrate.

As you make your way down the main road, Mando catches sight of a vendor and heads for their stand. “Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…” But as he draws closer to the elderly woman behind the table, they quickly turn their back to you and disappear down a quiet alley.

Eyebrows pulling tightly, your jaw clenches, completely astounded at how these people are too afraid to even talk to you. What kind of monster forces its citizens to live in constant fear to the point of being too afraid to speak to travelers?

Before you know it, you’re following the vendor down the alley when you see another elderly man bending down and whispering to some younglings. Your neck cranes to the side, and you walk over to him cautiously, hoping you won’t startle him.

“Excuse me,”

Once he catches you in his peripherals, he ushers the kids away before rising to his feet and turning his body to you.

“We need some information.” You announce, trying to keep your voice as gentle as you can despite the white-hot rage cooking up in your veins. “We’re looking for someone. Could you help—”

“Please,” he pleads as he holds a palm out in front of him to stop you from elaborating, voice quiet as to not draw any attention to himself. “Do not speak to any of us.”

“Look,” Mando interjects, his attitude becoming less patient as time ebbs on. “I just need to know—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re approached by two armed guards. Your hand flies to your holster, and Mando quickly shoots his hand out to stop you.

“The Magistrate wants to see you.” Their voices come out heavily distorted by their voice-box. It’s deep and frightening—no wonder these villagers are terrified. Even you are somewhat taken aback by their aggressive inflection, you can only imagine how these people must feel. Completely helpless and cut off from the anyone else, they don’t have a fighting chance even if they wanted to overthrow their government.

The old man leans over and takes a step back as one of the guards takes a step towards him. Your body cuts the droid off, putting yourself between the both of you. They’re wearing what appears to be a gas mask, but you stare at him, imagining where his eyes would be and continue to burn your own eyes into him, full of poison and anger. Inside, you’re begging him to make a move; to give you an excuse to shoot him right where he stands, but Mando’s visor snaps towards you, shooting you a warning as to not do something stupid. “Let’s go.” He says to you.

You follow Mando and the first guard down the main street, keeping an eye out on that other guard that treads behind you. The soldier leads you to another gate and kriff, you’re completely dumbfounded by what’s in front of you.

Along the cobblestoned street just ahead of the second gate are…prisoners. Prisoners strung up on various poles with a tiny podium to stand on, surrounded by what looks to be some kind of electrical barrier around them. The hostages are disturbingly frail, with many of them scarred with markings of fresh and old burn wounds you assume are from the bars circling around them. One man nearly doubles over and is electrocuted, its power so strong you can see the outline of their bones when the voltage hits their skin. You shudder at the sight of them, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.

They whisper desperately, begging for help but Mando continues walking, only offering one of the prisoners a quick glance. You stop in front of one of the hostages, eyes looking up at him as he cries, pleading over and over again for your help. Your jaw slacks, wanting to say something, but knowing nothing you say will matter. You can’t help them, at least not right now. Making a mental note to tell Mando once you head back to the Crest that you will free these prisoners, your eyes meet with the man’s own droopy, hooded lids, and hope they somehow can understand.

“Hey, girl,” A guard yells out. Looking down at the ground, you hear his heavy footsteps walk towards you, each step getting louder and louder as he nears you. “Keep moving.” He warns.

Biting your tongue and white knuckling your fists at your sides, you catch up with Mando, choosing no longer to wait till you are alone to whisper, “We’re freeing these prisoners before we leave,” through gritted teeth.

Mando’s helmet dips forward just enough for you to see it. The faster you find this Jedi, the sooner these prisoners can be freed. Once the first gate closes behind you, the second one opens and your jaw downright drops.

Firstly, there’s a fucking moat in front of you. When you and Mando were walking through the woodland in search of the village, you hadn’t even come across any body of water, and here the Magistrate is living with a full-on fucking moat. If that wasn’t enough, Maker there are trees here—not just stumps or snag trees, but actual trees flourishing in her small haven. They appear to be some sort of pine tree, but you can’t be sure since you’re too far away from them. Somehow even the air feels different here. Logically, you know that makes no sense, but it must be due to the contrast between how the Magistrate lives compared to how her own people live. There are hostages strung up, and being tortured, citizens who are too scared to even talk to you, living in tiny homes with little to no resources, and this one person is living with such excess and wealth, all the while quite literally separating themselves from the city’s population. It’s disgusting, it’s totalitarian, and the thought of people living in such horrible conditions is making your head spin.

It’s not that you were naïve enough to think there weren’t people living in such awful conditions, it was just that you had never actually seen this firsthand, so it was easy to forget that not everyone was as fortunate as you. Sure, water was a luxury back when you were just a child, but you had never been oppressed or discouraged from being a child. You had the luxury of walking around the city, and not having the stress or fear that any minute now a guard could kill you for doing something as normal as talking to another person. Not knowing how many more planets are under such control, it makes you want to search this entire galaxy and save every single citizen from this kind of barbarity.

The Magistrate is standing by the edge of her moat, appearing to throw something in the water. Maker, if she has fish in this moat, you’ll be… literally fucking speechless.

She addresses Mando to come forward, so he does. You opt to stay by the gate—deciding that it’s would be too difficult to hide the anger on your face and choose to wait for him to return.

“So she wants you to kill the Jedi?”

“Yes.” He says before putting the Child down gingerly on a smooth boulder.

According to the Magistrate, the Jedi is hiding somewhere in the forest, so now you and Mando have been searching aimlessly through the vast amount of woodland for any sign of a Jedi—whatever what means, but after what felt like hours of searching, your feet were throbbing. After ten minutes of begging him to take a small break, he finally gave in.

Plopping yourself down next to the Child, you continue to pester Mando with more questions. “And she’ll give you that beskar staff if you kill them?”

A drawn-out sign emits from the helmet. “Yes.”

“But we’re not doing that, right?” The question coming out rhetorically.

“No.” He answers curtly.

“Okay, good.” The conversation goes silent for a few seconds, and then your lips are moving again. “I really want to head back in there and shoot that woman right between the eyes.”

A noise comes from him that you’ve never heard before. Was…was that a fucking laugh? Is he fucking laughing at you? “You wouldn’t even get that close before one of her droids would shoot you down.”

“Believe it or not, Mando, but I’m a pretty decent fi—”

All of a sudden, Mando turns his body to yours and throws a gloved hand over your mouth. A small yelp escapes you but is muffled by leather. Your own hand flies to his, struggling to remove his kriffing hand from your face, tugging and trying to pull away from him.

“Stop!” He whispers, before raising a finger to his helmet where his mouth would be, ordering you to be quiet. Giving him a nod, he lets go of you, and presses a button on the side of his helmet then pivots around, scanning the area for lifeforms. Off in the distance, a large beast trots along the forest edge and Mando’s body relaxes.

“False alarm,”

“What the hell, Mando?” You force out through jagged breaths.

“Why are you here?”

Both your bodies whip around and catch the sight of a female Togruta standing just a few metres away from you. Her blue stripped lekku are enlarged around her round face and extend all the way to her midthighs, giving an indication that she’s of a mature age, although her face is clean of wrinkles, her features still smooth, suggesting she’s still well within her prime. Thick montrals pointing towards the sky like mountain tops, her orange skin reminds you of Tatooine sunsets—warm, and deep. White pigments outlining her cheeks, forehead, and eyebrows, Maker, she is stunning, and intimidating.

In her hands, she’s holding what appears to be two beaming swords. Not unlike the electrical barrier that the Magistrate had her prisoners surrounded by, although this type of energy looks much more elegant and impressive. Its luminescent white light purrs, you can hear the humming even though you’re a couple metres away from her. You’ve never seen a weapon quite like it. It’s much more of sophisticated weapon than you’ve been privy to seeing, but it’s exceptionally beautiful.

“Ahsoka Tano?” Mando asks, holding his hands out in front of him, taking a very cautious step towards her. She tenses, one of the laser swords comes up and she holds it across her chest, keeping the other steadily by her side. Your hand placed firmly on your blaster strapped to your thigh, heart thumping in your chest, you wait for her to attack.

“Who are you?” She says cautiously, keeping that glowing spear between Mando and herself.

“Bo-Katan sent me.” He says warily.

The Togruta stares at Mando, then to you before straightening out her back, her weapons’ beaming white blades retracting into their handles.

“We need to talk.” Mando clarifies, standing up straight.

“Well, I hope it’s about them,” She answers kindly, shooting you a quick wink before taking a step towards you.

Crossing your arms and lips forming a tight line, your head jerks back when she responds.

“What do you mean, “them?”

Mando retreats to get the Child, and holds him with one arm, choosing to stand almost directly between you and Ahsoka. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Her posture changes from weary to inviting, hooking her weapons back on her hips, her back untensing and taking a step back. “Come.”

You and Mando follow her through the thick, dense woods, nearly tripping and twisting your ankle trying to avoid the roots that are nestled above the dirt, or stumps that have fallen over and are lying on the ground.

She finds a spot not too covered in trees, with a couple of boulders lying around in a circle. In the middle are embers from an old fire that you assume she made for herself. She sits down on one of the rocks, then you and Mando follow suit. He places the Child gently between himself and Ahsoka, and presses a button on his vambrace, causing a flame to shoot out from his wrist, reigniting the ashes. Instead of waiting for either of them to speak, you begin questioning Ahsoka.

“So,” You say, head craning in her direction. “You’re a Jedi?”

Ahsoka lets out a small chuckle, eyes shifting towards the ground. You can vaguely make out the blaze in the reflection of her eyes. “No, I’m not a Jedi, not anymore.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about this little one?” Mando questions her, jerking his neck to the left where the green baby is perched between them. She turns her head towards the Child, and almost instantaneously, his giant ears perk up, big eyes peering up at her, uttering unintelligibly.

“Can I have a moment alone with him?” She asks you and Mando. He doesn’t say anything in response, but stands up straight and walks away, not once looking back. You’re a few seconds late, but finally rise to your own feet before taking one last look at Ahsoka. She smiles at you and nods. You hear her voice and at first believe she’s actually spoken to you, but quickly realize her lips haven’t moved.

It’s okay.

Surely, you’re imagining things. It’s not possible to hear someone’s voice so clearly in your mind unless they actually said something to you…right?

Pushing the thought out of your mind, you turn on your heel, and you walk over to where Mando is pacing back and forth. He’s quiet as usual, but his body language is screaming. He’s tense, boots retracing the same steps over and over, shoulders square and hands fidgeting by his thighs. The apprehension, his nervousness—it’s practically seeping from him. It’s not something you ever thought you’d see—Mando anxious about a situation, given that he’s usually a lot better at keeping his cool under pretty much every single stressful situation.

At first, you think about asking him if he’s okay, or showing him that you notice his tentativeness, but it’s quickly shoved out of your mind when you remember how little he likes to talk about himself or how he’s feeling. You know firsthand that he prefers to stay silent rather than admit what’s going on inside his head.

Choosing to sit on a tree stump that’s fallen over on the ground, you continue to study Ahsoka and the Child. They stare at each other for a couple minutes not saying anything, just offering each other a series of smiles, gazes, and tilts of the head. As you continue to watch them, it’s almost as if you can hear them, which you know logically makes no sense. It’s very faint and muffled, taking all the concentration you can muster but you swear to the Maker you can hear them speaking to each other. The harder you squint, the clearer their voices get. However, it’s when you close your eyes and pull your brows together tightly, giving them your full attention that their voices become almost as clear as day.

His name is Grogu.

He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Order 66.

What’s order 66?

Before you can make out anything else, Ahsoka’s voice pulls you out of your concentration, calling you both over. Jumping to your feet in record time, you reach out and grab hold of Mando’s vambrace. He stills at your touch.

“Come,” You say gently, motioning your head over to the two by the fire.

The deep breath he lets out pulls rough from his vocoder, you can feel the trepidation in his body spilling into his lungs. He trails behind you and when you both reach them; you sit back down on the rock you were seated on before, but Mando chooses to stand instead.

“Has he…said anything? Do you…understand him?” He asks Ahsoka curiously, but with a hint of worry in his baritone.

“In a way. Grogu and I can read each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?” Mando’s voice is gentle but still low, and almost immediately, the Child’s ears perk up once again, and his little head jerks to face him, a gentle noise of glee escapes him.

“Yes,” Ahsoka says, smiling. “That’s his name, but you already knew that.”

“I—” He begins to say but Ahsoka cuts him off.

“No, not you. Her.”

Both Ahsoka and Mando’s head turn to you. Leg bouncing anxiously off the ground, your jaw slacks to answer, but not entirely sure how to answer. “Uh—Yeah, I mean he didn’t exactly tell me but he…kind of did?”

“What do you mean?” Mando presses you.

One of your hands rub the back of your neck and your eyes trail away from the two people staring you down to look at your feet. Clearing your throat, you answer uncertainly. “I…don’t know how he did it or how I was able to understand it.”

“Are you both still able to wield the Force?” Ahsoka asks curiously.

“The Force?” You repeat in confusion.

“You mean, his powers?” The Mandalorian chimes in.

“The Force is what gives him his powers. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It also allows us to communicate with each other.” She clarifies, somewhat answering your question but simultaneously confusing you even more. What the hell is ‘The Force’?

“You’re saying he used ‘The Force’ to communicate with me?”

“In a way, yes. We can communicate with others who are Force-sensitive, although it takes a great deal of training and discipline to wield it properly.”

Does this mean…?

Is she saying you’re…?

Force-sensitive?

Ahsoka sighs before addressing you again. “I sense a lot of conflict in you,”

“I’m just finding all of this very hard to believe,” You admit.

Ahsoka acknowledges your stunned expression with a gentle nod, before shifting the conversation towards the real issue—Grogu. Turning her eyes away from you, she now speaks to Mando. “Grogu was raised and trained by many Masters at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Jedi were deemed traitors of the Republic, they were hunted down and killed. Grogu was smuggled out of the Temple beforehand, and has been forced to hide his abilities in order to survive over the years.”

Peeking over to observe Grogu, your heart aches. How could anyone want to harm him? He’s just a child, an innocent creature. “Do you know of anyone else like him?”

“I’ve only ever known one other being like this.” Her eyes trail off to gaze into the fire once again. “A wise Jedi Master named Yoda. I didn’t know others like him existed.”

“My task was to bring him to a Jedi. Can you train him?”

Ahsoka lets out a deep breath before answering. “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts us.” Your voice comes out more aggressive than you intended, but you’re desperate for answers.

Ahsoka looks down to the Child once again. His eyes flutter shut, exhaustion overcoming his little body until he all but bows his head to fall asleep. “Let him rest for now, I’ll test him in the morning.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward in agreement. He moves around the fire and makes his way over to Grogu and picks him up gingerly, holding him close to his cuirass and motioning his head in the direction of the Crest. Humming in response and rising to your own feet, you make to follow behind Mando back to ship when Ahsoka places a hand on your forearm.

“A moment?”

“Uh, sure,” You answer hesitantly. “I’ll meet you back at the ship.” You call over to Mando.

He huffs in response before walking away, Grogu fast asleep in his arms. Sitting back down, you wait for Ahsoka to speak.

“You’re troubled. I can sense it.”

Jaw dropping, you look for the words to accurately describe just how confused and in disbelief you are. Gesticulating around you, your voice is soft and low. “How—how is this possible?” A laugh escapes your lips. “I’m just a mecha—smuggler.” You catch yourself, the word barely leaving your lips. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her own lips form a tight line, as if she’s seen others react the same way. “It’s unclear how the Force works, and there’s no definitive way of explaining who has the gift and who hasn’t. We’re just…burdened with it.” Her eyes look down at the ground. It’s evident there’s some unresolved regret and sadness she’s been carrying for years, and you can’t help but wonder what could have possibly happened to her for her to feel this way.

“You said ‘I’m not a Jedi, not anymore’. What did you mean by that?”

She takes a deep breath, exhaling through her nose before speaking. “I left the order when I was young. It… wasn’t what I thought it was anymore.” Her voice trails off.

“What was it supposed to be? Who were the Jedi?” You don’t mean to ask so many questions, but there are so many pieces to this puzzle that you don’t understand yet. You’re supposedly predestined to be a Jedi, but you know nothing about them. Stories of the Jedi weren’t told to you when you were a child. It was treated more like a moment in history that no one wanted to speak of—like it was a stain on the galaxy that the majority of folks wanted to forget.

“We were trained to be keepers of the peace, but that all changed when the Clone Wars began. Jedi were suddenly soldiers and thrown into battle, required to fight for the Republic and keep the Separatists from expanding.”

“You fought?”

Ahsoka’s voice is low, like your question that thrown her back into the war, reliving all the pain from her youth. “I was just a Padawan when I joined the war effort. At first it was easy to say we were fighting to maintain the peace, but after a while, it almost felt like we became the ones raging the war. All of a sudden, the Order just didn’t feel like it once was…” She goes quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe her conflicting feelings. “It changed.”

Your hand reaches out to hold hers. Once your skin touches her, immense pain overwhelms you. It’s haunting, a sudden hole fills your body with anger, regret, sadness. There’s a male voice, low and threatening, taunting her as he hisses.

Why did you leave?

You abandoned me!

Do you know what I’ve become?

Hand recoiling away, your left with the same empty feeling as her. It’s unnerving, experiencing something that hasn’t even happened to you yet somehow able to feel it so deeply, as if you know who this man is, but it gives you an insight as to just how tortured she must be feeling, and why she’s alone on this planet.

“Who…who was that?” Your voice is strained, shuddering out little breaths.

“Someone who meant a great deal to me.” Ahsoka’s face softens immediately, a somber smile develops on her lips, losing that hard, stoic demeanor she’s kept up in front of you and Mando. “An incredibly skilled Jedi Knight. He was my Master.”

“What happened to him?”

Ahsoka’s lungs fill with air, and she takes her time exhaling before answering you. “He fell to the Dark Side…” Her voice breaks up at the end, and clears her throat, giving the impression that she feels guilty about it, while also trying to regain control of her emotions.

Despite hearing the term ‘Dark Side’ for the first time, you almost instantaneously know what it is. The voice that creeps into your mind, the one that feeds off your anger and emotions, the one that scratches the inside of your brain, hissing to cause harm and feed the deepest parts of yourself that you despise. It all makes sense now.

“I sense it within you.” Her voice barely above a whisper, but clear enough to make your skin crawl. It’s a truth you didn’t know you had been dreading to hear. A truth you yourself had tried to ignore. The part of you that you hated most, finally being noticed by a complete stranger, it triggers something deep inside you, almost confirming your worst fears. You’re a danger, not only to yourself but to anyone around you. It’s suddenly as clear as day why you’ve tried to keep your distance from those you loved ever since your parents’ death. Why you never allowed yourself the luxury of attachments or love. Somehow, you knew that in order to keep yourself and others safe, you needed to put a barrier up, a wall to stop yourself from hurting others.

“I…don’t know how to control it.” Desperation in your voice, it becomes obvious that you’re both struggling to find solace.

“You should get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” Attempting to put you somewhat at ease, she offers you a smile, although her eyes show you anything but contentment. There’s a sadness in them, like she already knows your fate but is unsure of the proper way of confessing it to you.

Nodding your head slowly, you push yourself to your feet and make a beeline for the Crest. Ahsoka stands, watching you drag your feet back to the ship, then disappears through the fog, and back into the forest.

When you reach the back ramp of the ship, the lights are dimmed to the lowest setting, your legs almost collapsing once you reach the hull from all the trekking throughout the day. Leaning over to the side of the ramp, you press a button on the board by the door and the ramp creaks shut.

The Crest is deafeningly quiet. As you make your way deeper into the ship, you observe Grogu sleeping soundly in his little hammock inside Mando’s bunk. Making sure not to make too much noise on the ladder, you gently head up to the cockpit and find Mando sitting in the pilot’s chair, unsure if he’s sleeping or simply sitting there like a statue which you’ve noticed he’s does from time to time. Upon entering the cockpit, you sigh a little loudly, testing to see if he’s awake.

Practically falling into your seat, you know you should get some sleep, but the mental exhaustion is almost too intense, you can’t seem to get your mind off everything that’s happened. Continuously mulling over what Ahsoka’s said, noting how it makes perfect sense, but not wanting to accept it.

“Are you…all right?” Mando asks you timidly, the deepness of his tone cutting through the low hum of the dimmed lights.

The question bounces around in your mind.

Are you all right?

Just under a couple of hours ago, you had never even heard of ‘The Force’, let alone supposedly have a connection to this intangible entity. Of course, there are things that you’ve done that you couldn’t logically explain, but does that necessarily mean you suddenly have some greater purpose? That you’re this…peacekeeper with an obligation to protect others?

Did your parents know?

Did they keep this a secret from you in order to protect you or were they just as in the dark as you were about this?

Everything you thought you knew about yourself is once again being challenged.

Mechanic.

Smuggler.

Quarry.

Jedi?

How are you supposed to navigate through this? Ahsoka said herself the Jedi were basically wiped out right as the Empire rose to power. What does that mean for you? Is the Empire hunting you down because you’re ‘force-sensitive’?

Certainly, it would be easier to simply put this all behind you. Help Mando with Grogu and then go your separate ways, ignoring what Ahsoka’s told you about being connected to The Force.

Do what you must in order to stay alive.

Keep to yourself just as you’ve always done, and survive.

But…is that the right thing to do? How does one know if the path they’re on is the correct one? It’s not like there’s someone all knowing that you can ask, or seek help from. The only thing you can do is trust your own instincts, go over each possibility and examine them meticulously, and pray to the Maker that you’ll be drawn to one option more than another.

Remembering that Mando’s just asked you a question but not remembering exactly what it was, you hum in your throat. “Hmm?”

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. “Are you all right?”

“It’s funny how we can here for the kid, and now I’m the one having some kind of existential crisis.” Your tone is wry, the ability to mock yourself never waving.

“Yeah.” He answers coolly, probably just because he doesn’t know what else to say. Mando’s not really one to comfort or coddle, unless it’s Grogu but that doesn’t bother you so much. Mando is the way he is, and you wouldn’t change a thing about him.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re rising to your feet, word vomit expelling from your lips.

“I’ve lived my whole life not knowing where I belong. Navigating through various routes, trying to find my purpose and what I’m supposed to be doing, and I was fine with smuggling. I know it wasn’t honorable or strictly legal, but it made me feel better about my place in the galaxy. It felt better than being a mechanic on some rotten planet because at least I was seeing what the galaxy had to offer me, right? But it still couldn’t fill this empty pit I felt in my stomach.” Your breathing is erratic, chest pumping in and out as your heartbeat races.

“And I dealt with that. I did things I regretted but I never allowed myself to dwell on those things because I knew what I had to do in order to survive. Then out of nowhere I’m being hunted by what I thought was the New Republic but oh no surprise!” Your voice becoming almost hysterical, empty laughs punching out of you through jagged breaths. “It’s actually the Empire! Because I now apparently have some connection to an entity that exists in a form that I don’t even understand and have never heard of.

“All the while, I have this voice inside my head that fucking eats away at me. ‘Do this’ and ‘Make them feel pain’, ‘Hurt them like they hurt you’. It’s fucking gnawing at my brain, and I have no fucking idea how to control it or get it to stop. I feel like a monster, like some evil being that will one day just explode and hurt anyone in my path, and it fucking terrifies me because I can’t control it. I can’t fucking control it, Mando.” Your voice is hoarse, speaking so fast your lungs can’t keep up with you, only allowing yourself quick breaths as you begin to feel yourself hyperventilate.

Mando rises to his feet ever so slowly, visor glued to you as you continue to explode.

“What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to follow down the path of being a Jedi despite not knowing a single fucking thing about them? You heard what Ahsoka said about them. They were almost all wiped out.”

Your hands fly to your face, squeezing your eyes shut so hard, you’re seeing stars, and rubbing the heels of your palms into your skin. Completely overwhelmed by everything, you just want to disappear.

Then, you feel rough, sturdy gloves wrap around your wrists, and gently pulling at them, freeing your hands away from your face. When you finally open your eyes, all you see is Mando’s helmet, the ‘T’ of his visor looking down at you. He doesn’t let go of your wrists, just continues to hold them gingerly, even pulling them towards his chest. You take a step towards him, standing merely inches away from each other. He says nothing, but truthfully, he doesn’t need to. Holding you steady is all he needs to do in order to calm you down. Your breathing is slowly starting to regulate itself, even though your mind is still shouting at you.

Hearing a soft exhale emit through the helmet, Mando speaks quietly and softly. “You’re not a monster.”

“But—”

“We’ve all done things we regret.” He tells you softly. “What matters is that you regret it, which means you’re not a monster, because they don’t regret anything they’ve done.”

Your head dips downward, letting out a deep breath through slightly parted lips, as you begin shaking your head. “What if I hurt you or the kid one day?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know—”

“I do,” He says firmly, leaving you no more room to argue.

When you finally look up into the black eye slit of his helmet, you wish you were looking into his eyes. To see him looking back at you would be a blessing right now, but you know better than to ask him to take it off. You don’t know much about Mandalorians, but from the one you do know, he never takes his helmet off, and you wouldn’t dare ask him to break his creed just for you. So, this will have to do.

“Get some sleep.” He says then releases your wrists, letting them fall to your sides.

“I’m not tired,” You mumble.

“Yes, you are.” He argues. “Use the cot downstairs.”

“But that’s where you sleep.”

He turns away from you, sitting back in the pilot’s chair and swiveling it around so you’re facing the back of the seat. “I’ll sleep here. Now, go.”

He leaves no room for argument, and honestly? Finally being able to sleep lying down and not sitting upright in a chair does sound amazing. You head down the ladder without another word, feeling the sudden exhaustion hit you hard. Grogu’s still sound asleep in his hammock, and you wiggle into the tiny sleeping space, being mindful not to touch the hammock or make too much noise that might wake him up, gently pressing on the button on the panel near the door and hearing it woosh shut. Your nostrils fill up instantly with Mando’s smell. Notes of beskar, musk, and his soap fill your sinuses and you take a deep, burning breath, trying to inhale as much Mando as you can in one breath. The voices in your head are still chattering away, but being bundled up in Mando’s blanket and his smell is enough for you to push those noises away and fall asleep to the sound of the Child’s gentle snores.

Grogu’s training begins in the early morning. You’re all gathered around the same place you were last night, but there’s definitely more tension than there was the night before. For starters, you basically had a mental breakdown in front of Mando last night, and you’re feeling pretty guilty and embarrassed about it. You should have been able to keep your emotions in check and under control, but instead you blew up in front of the one person you didn’t want to blow up in front of.

Secondly, today you’ll all be seeing Grogu’s abilities firsthand, and find out just how much training he’s had and what he’s fully capable of doing, and it’s pretty easy to tell that Mando is nervous. The way he carries himself; back tense and his hands balled into fists at his sides, shifting uncomfortably as he watches Grogu stand on a rock just a few feet away from Ahsoka. You’re standing to his right, nerves and curiosity radiating off your skin.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking in that little mind of yours, shall we?” She says to Grogu before turning her head to you both. Clearing your throat, you nod in acknowledgement while Mando stays stiff as a board.

She reaches down and picks up a small stone off the ground and holds it out in front of her chest. Looking down at the rock and watching her eyes squint, it suddenly lifts out of her palm and stays in limbo for a moment before she uses her hand to push it towards Grogu. It flows over so slowly in his direction, his little arms reaching out and grabbing it with both hands. You stand there, completely stunned, eyes wide-shot and jaw practically hanging. It’s something you’ve been able to do as well, but only during bouts of anger or in the middle of a fight.

“Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” She instructs, her voice gentle but commanding all the same.

His head tilts to the side, continuing to hold it firmly with his claws.

“He doesn’t understand what you’re saying,” Mando blurts out.

“He does.” She reassures him, holding her hand out and gently coaxing Grogu once again to hand her the rock. “The stone, Grogu.”

The Child gurgles, then drops the stone in a chuff of defeat. A drawn-out sigh releases from Mando’s helmet, somewhat irritable, but not fully angry.

Ahsoka approaches Grogu, leaning down to pick up the stone he’s dropped and taking his tiny hand in hers. Her head dips forward and whispers, “I sense much fear in you, little one.”

Grogu coos in response, his big eyes blinking slowly. She flashes him a kind smile and takes a couple steps back, cocking her head to one side as she ponders her next move. Ahsoka’s eyes meet yours for a second and just when they meet, it’s almost like you both come up with the same idea. Grogu needs a different kind of enticement, a more personal incentive.

“Let’s try something else,” She says. “Come here.”

Mando looks over to the Child and motions with his head for him walk over to meet Ahsoka. When he looks over to the Mandalorian with a puzzled look, Mando sighs again. “He’s stubborn.”

Unable to hide the smile on your face, you shake your head just as Ahsoka lips curl upwards. “Not him, you.” She says, looking at him.

Mando hesitates at first, so you grab hold of his forearm and almost usher him in Ahsoka’s direction. “I want to see if he’ll listen to you,” She says curiously.

Mando scoffs, and the sound comes out scratchy and low through the vocoder. “That would be a first.”

Handing Mando the stone, she instructs him to hold it in his palm, open faced and tell Grogu to lift and take the rock. He stands there awkwardly, shifting a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but in an endearing way. You smile from ear to ear, watching Mando be so confused but approaching this in a gentle way that you know almost no one has been privy to witnessing. It tugs at your heartstrings, observing father and son.

He lets out a deep breath before following Ahsoka’s direction. “Okay, kid. Lift the stone.”

“Grogu,” You clarify, still smiling.

He whips his head to face you then back to the Child.

“Grogu,”

The Child’s ears perk up instantly hearing Mando’s voice call him, cooing excitedly. “Take the stone.”

Looking at the rock, Grogu babbles and then looks at the ground defeatedly.

“See?” Throwing the stone on the ground in annoyance, Mando looks over to where you and Ahsoka are standing. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”

You and Ahsoka turn heads to look at each other, knowing damn well it’s not because the kid is stubborn, but because Mando is stubborn. Keeping an emotional type of distance between him and every person in the galaxy, never allowing himself to make a meaningful connection.

“Try to connect with him,” Ahsoka chimes.

Mando studies Grogu, possibly trying to gauge a reaction or an insight as to what he wants. His gloved hands come up to grasp onto his utility belt and then you notice him fiddle with his belt and flesh out the metal knob from the lever of the Crest. Both you and Mando know just how much that durasteel ball means to Grogu, and if there’s one thing in this galaxy that the kid absolutely loves and wants at all times, it’s that ball.

Sure enough, as soon as he sees Mando with the ball in his hand, his ears perk up immediately and giggles of joy rush out of him. Mando bends his knees, crouching down so that he’s at eye level with him, holding the ball between his fingers, enticing the downright giddy baby just a few feet away from him.

“Grogu,” His tone is playful, and it shocks you. He’s never spoken that way around you. Mando has a monotone way of speaking, maintaining a level tone, or an annoyed tone. Never speaking in a playful or humorous manner. To see him show this kind of vulnerability must be hard for him, especially in front of Ahsoka who he’s known for half a day, but Mando knows this isn’t about him, this is for Grogu, and he’ll do whatever it takes for the kid.

“Do you want this?”

The Child fixates on the ball, arms reaching out in front of him, almost begging for it, but Mando continues to tempt him, speaking low but tender, as he urges Grogu to take it. “Well, go ahead. Go on, take it. You can do it.”

Maker, it takes everything in you not to scream. The way Mando continues to coax him, the way Grogu coos and looks at him so lovingly, it’s enough to break hearts. A relationship borne of hunter and quarry turned father and son. Something so rare, so genuine. To think that these two beings don’t even speak the same language yet have an attachment so fierce and pure.

Eyes squinting in concentration, Grogu’s hand reaches out just a little further and then the ball flies from Mando’s hand right into the Child’s little grip.

“Good job!” Mando exclaims, pure joy and full of proudness. Your mouth falls into a toothy grin as you watch him approach the Child and continue to affirm how proud he is. Looking over at Ahsoka and expecting to see her smiling, your face quickly changes when you take notice of her expression. She’s looking down at the ground, not a speck of joy on her face. In fact, she looks defeated, like she’s just witnessed something awful. Eyebrows pulling together, you give her a nudge with your elbow, asking what’s wrong without actually asking what’s wrong.

“I knew you could do it. Very good,” Mando continues to praise.

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” She says before her lips press into a thin line.

“Is that a bad thing?” You question. Taking a step towards Mando and away from Ahsoka, and crossing your arms against your chest, your head cocks to one side waiting for her to explain.

“I cannot train him.”

“What?” Mando straightens out immediately and turns his body to face her. “You’ve seen what he can do, right?” He asks curtly, a hint of underlying anger in his vibrato.

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears—his anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” She grits out through her teeth. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a person. What it can do to even the best of the Jedi Knights. I will not start this child on that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

You take a step back; a sneer escapes your lips as you try to understand what the hell she’s saying. “Let his abilities fade? Look at him. You can’t just give up on him.”

She looks down at Grogu who’s too busy examining the ball in his hands to notice the three of you arguing. Giving you both a quick glance, Ahsoka shakes her head. “I’ve delayed too long. I must head back to the village.” She turns on her heel and begins walking away from you two when Mando gets her attention.

“The Magistrate’s asked me to kill you.”

Ahsoka freezes, turning her body slowly towards you, hands making their way to the weapons strapped around her waist.

“I didn’t agree to anything.” Mando clarifies.

Uncrossing your arms, you take a tentative step towards her. “We’ll help you free the village, but at the very least, Grogu,” You point a finger in Grogu’s general direction, “needs training.”

She clamps down on her jaw, eyebrows knitting together as she mulls over the proposition.

“Fine, but we hit the city tonight.”

-------

I hope y'all liked the way I wrote ahsoka...I completely ignored how she looked in the mandalorian and based her appearance off the “Overlords” ep of tcw and changed the way her character was because I wasn't really a fan of how she was written.

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

62 notes · View notes

tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

Text

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter One

Master List

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I'm making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I'm trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We'll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

In the sweltering heat of the jungle, Din Djarin crouched to better scan for tracks in the rotting foliage at the base of the tall trees. Pools of light made it difficult to adjust correctly for the shadowy depths; add in the thermal activity of the plants and animals in this stinking sewer of a planet, and he was having a hard time tracking his quarry.

When he'd accepted the puck, he hadn't known what he was getting into as her chain code was surprisingly sparse. The only additional information he had was her name - Taa Marel - her last known location and face.

And what a face. Even on a holo, she was stunning, not that the Mandalorian would let that sway him one way or the other.

He'd tracked the stolen ship from Bogano, where she'd initially been hiding out to this skug hole of a world that was made to torment men in beskar, causing them to swelter in their helmet.

The kid, however, loved the place.

Constantly cooing, riding in his pouch, he touched everything he could get his chubby green fingers on. Leaves, flowers, bugs; those, of course, went straight in his mouth. By this point, Mando accepted the womp rat could and would eat just about anything.

Upon arrival, they'd found the ship nose down, destroyed, and abandoned, but the crash landing had created just enough space for Mando to set the Razor Crest down. Then the hunt began.

After three hours of slogging through the heat, he was ready to kill her. After four, he decided death was too good for someone who made him sweat this hard. After five, he was determined to make her suffer. But they were closing in. He could feel it like an ache in his bones.

Tracks led forward, but something didn't sit right with that. They were too obvious. After hours of following such a well-covered trail, this was an insult to his skills. Footprints led straight down a game trail like a beacon meant to lure him astray.

It wasn't right, too easy by far, and the skin on his nape crawled.

He looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman he was hunting. Even through the distorted colour of heat vision, he could see they were a vibrant green.

He moved on instinct, whipcord shooting out, wrapping around her shoulders, and dragging her out of the tree.

She screamed the battle cry of a hunting cat, an inhuman sound before she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, crouched but on her feet.

"Taa Marel, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," he warned her, hand hovering over his blaster.

"That is not my name. And I choose option three."

Her voice kicked him in the groin and made his dick twitch. Stunned, he could only watch as her hands came up and nails like talons shredded his whipcord.

Someone had left a few things out of her chain code.

"Put the child down."

Mando blinked. "Why would I do that?"

What did she want with his foundling? Had she heard about him? Would she attempt to take him?

"I intend to kick your ass, Mandalorian, but I do not hurt children. Put him down."

Surprised, Mando reached for the strap across his chest instead of his blaster. "You're not going to run?"

She lifted a proud chin. "You will continue to hunt me. I would rather die than return to that hell hole, but I will not go easy. I will fight."

She was beginning to impress him with more than just her face.

Din lifted the strap over his head, his eyes fixed on the target, studying her outside of the holo he'd memorized.

She stood with her chin raised, body slightly turned in a stance that bespoke proper training. If one could call it that, her green tunic had no sleeves, crossed over her breasts, tied just beneath them, and ended a few inches thereafter, baring the wealth of sun-darkened skin over tightly packed muscles. Pants hugged slim hips, billowed at her thighs, and tied tight to her calves thanks to the soft, short boots that went to her knee.

Sweat gave her a sheen that made her glow, her vibrant eyes shadowed behind thick, long lashes. Her face was a treasure trove of sculpted brows, sharp nose, and high cheekbones over lips that looked like ripe fruit, begging for teeth.

A mass of hair, the colour of sand, fell in heavy waves to her hips. It began to darken toward the tips until it was as black as the deepest corner of space.

As he moved the kid, she untied a thin cord from her wrist and slowly began to bind her hair in a low tail.

He'd never met a woman like her, a bounty like her, ever. This one - fugitive or not - had honour in her.

The kid cooed and waved. Her lips twitched into a smile as she winked and waved back.

"Fear not, Mandalorian. Should I kill you today, I will raise your foundling as my own."

Din's blood ran cold. "You won't get the chance."

He hung the child's satchel on a low tree knot and drew the beskar spear from his back in the same motion. Though he'd won the spear from magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus and helped the Jedi Ahsoka Tano defeat her forces, the Jedi held no answers when it came to the kid. Though, Din wondered if that had more to do with him than the little green monster. She'd told him to seek another Jedi, someone with more training than she, but had given him no direction in which to search.

"He is rather cute," she smirked. "But his kind age so slowly. You will be long dead before he is grown."

Mando paused. "You know of his kind?"

She arched a brow. "You do not?"

He lowered the spear and held up his off-hand. "I am tasked with returning him to his people."

Her posture never changed, but her eyes filled with sorrow. "He has no more people. The last of his kind, or what was thought to be the last, died some years ago. Master Yoda was his name."

"I'm to help him find the Jedi," Mando murmured.

Her eyes lost their sadness. "I cannot help you."

"Will not."

"They are one and the same," she whispered.

Lightning fast, she rushed him. Mando barely blocked the first swipe of her claws before the second clanged off his pauldron. He used the spear's shaft to knock her back, even as she kicked him in the ribs, bypassing the beskar.

"Do you know the life you condemn me to, Mandalorian, if you return me to that horrible place?" she asked, crouched once again, a few feet away.

"You're a bounty. I don't make deals," he stated, watching his quarry while keeping his body between her and the kid. His ribs smarted, but he'd had worse.

"No. You just work for the people who Purged your planet!" she spat, leaping and clawing.

She was fast, damn fast. Barely able to keep up, it was all Mando could do not to lose ground until he saw an opening and swept the butt of the spear at her leg.

She jumped back, breath coming hard.

"I didn't ask who the bounty was for." Greef Karga offered him the chance for a big payday, and right now, they could use it.

"You work for the Empire," she sneered. "Returning me to torture and experimentation. Do you think I was always like this!?" She stood and held out her arms, flexing fingers tipped in dark claws. She bared her teeth, revealing wicked-looking canines, then lifted a portion of hair to reveal a sharply pointed ear.

Again he paused, a thing unheard of, to ask, "What are you?" Her chain code said human, but she was certainly not that.

Her proud chin lifted in defiance. "Do you know what a Zentari is, Mandalorian?"

Din inhaled sharply. "That's not possible. They were wiped out."

"All but one. I am Baast'mal, last of the Zentari. The Empire took me as a child and used my gift to ruin me. They bound my blood to the Corellian Sand Panther and Manka Cat. They have so thoroughly defiled my biorhythms that if the constellations were kind enough to cross my path with that of my mate, I do not know if I could bond with him." Pain flickered across her features. "I am sullied, broken. I am a monster," she whispered before shaking herself free of the melancholia and raising that proud chin once more. "So kill me if you can, Mandalorian, for I will not go willingly."

The beskar spear fell from his fingers as Din dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "I am a Child of the Watch. I must offer aid, Zentari. This is the Way."

"The Way?" She took a step back. "The Mandalorians no longer follow the Old Ways. They no longer conceal their face from all but their riduur and ad. The creed is long dead."

He shook his head. "My Tribe is one of zealots. We hold to the old ways of Mandalore. I only recently learned of this as I was raised with them in hiding. The Purge took much, but the ways of the Zentari are remembered in the covert."

She hesitated, eyes wary. "I have faced Mandalorians before. They knew not the Way."

Din stripped his gloves from his hands and held them out, palms up as if catching water. He raised them above his head and brought them down over his helmet, appearing to another as if he washed with air. "Zentari of the Bright Star, may the constellations bless this warrior with a treasure greater than beskar that they would be mine. Cyar'ika. Ka'rta. Riduur."

She inhaled sharply. He watched her fight tears, lip trembling before she closed the distance between them and knelt. She dipped her fingers into his cupped palms as if they held water, brought them to her brow and stroked them down over her eyes and out along her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she lifted them toward his helmet and laid her palms lightly on the sides of the beskar.

His hands gently grasped her wrists, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. She wouldn't remove it, that he was sure of, but it was an instinct he couldn't deny when someone touched his helmet.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. "Mandalorian, Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta."

"This is the Way," he murmured, shaken by the encounter.

"This is the Way," she agreed as she drew him forward until his helmet lightly kissed her brow.

The shudder that raced through her raced through him with equal intensity. The Zentari race was a myth, a legend, a beautiful dream. They were so lost to time Din felt like his heart would burst with joy.

"Have you ever removed your helmet, Mando?" she asked softly.

The shortened form of address made his heart skip. "Not before any living thing." The Droid on Nevarro didn't count, and no matter what Bo'Katan said, the creed was his way. He would never show his face to any besides his wife or children.

Let Koska scoff as she liked at his traditions. She had not found a Zentari. She likely wouldn't know what to do with the Zentari if she did.

Din rocked back on his toes and pushed to his feet, surprised when she followed him with equal grace. "Zentari, we should return to my ship. The Alor will want to meet you. The covert will rejoice."

"Baast."

He froze as her hands landed lightly on his beskar covered chest. "What?"

"To you, I am Baast." She stared into his visor as if able to see his eyes.

"Baast," he murmured, wishing he could speak her name without the modulator.

"Yes, Din Djarin," she smiled.

He still held her wrists, and his hands became her shackles. "How do you know that name?" he demanded.

Long lashes swept her cheeks, a coy smile curling her lips. "Grogu told me."

His grip tightened more. "Who is Grogu?"

She tilted her head to look past him at the kid cooing at them. "He is Grogu."

"You can understand him?" Din asked, his shock registering even through the modulator.

"Not in words, but he speaks to those who can listen. Images. Impressions. The Force is strong in him," she smiled at Grogu. "He loves you."

"He's okay." Mando was grateful for the helmet that hid his foolish grin.

"You fool no one," Baast chuckled. She gently twisted her wrists, reminding him of her bondage.

He let her go and stepped back to pick up the spear.

"You are a man blessed of beskar," she murmured. "You must be a great hunter."

"Something like that," he murmured. It still shamed him how he'd acquired his armour, but if he hadn't turned in the kid - Grogu - he wouldn't have been as well-equipped to get him back and keep him safe as they ran from the Empire.

Baast headed for Grogu, her smile growing as she lifted down his carrier and situated the baby against her chest. Grogu giggled and babbled something Mando didn't understand.

"Oh, I see," Baast chuckled, casting a side-eye his direction.

"What?" Mando muttered.

"Clan of the Mudhorn. A clan of two." She flicked her claws over his sigil. "I wondered. Grogu explained."

Mando glared at the kid- Grogu. "Don't tell her all my secrets."

Grogu cooed. Baast cuddled him and smiled slyly. By that look, he was pretty sure it was too late for his secrets.

He turned to go, heading back the way he'd come. It would take hours to return to the Razor Crest, and it was already getting dark.

***

They didn't make it back to the ship before nightfall, but he found a hollow tree in which to spend the dark hours. Creeper vines had choked the life out of the behemoth, leaving them in a cage of vines and dry, dead bark with a wealth of firewood to choose from.

The fire burned brightly, drafting well, casting shadows across Baast's face and keeping the larger predators at bay. She slept curled around Grogu, lips gently parted. The air had finally cooled at sundown, but now he could see the shivers and goosebumps developing on her flesh.

Slowly, he leaned forward to remove the cape from his back. Then, just as quietly, he rose, rounded the fire, and draped it over her and Grogu. She stirred but didn't wake, and Din returned to his watch on the far side of the fire.

A Zentari. He could scarce believe it.

She was a myth made flesh—a beautiful dream. Once, when Mandalore still followed the old ways, Zentarus was where many warriors sought their mates, their most cherished riduur.

A Zentari was always fast and strong and incredibly rare. They grew quickly but aged slowly, their years stretching out into eternity, some said. Fine in face and form, when they met their match, they bonded, taking on traits of the other and giving a few as well.

A Mandalorian could live a very long time with a Zentari mate.

But most Mandalorians came home empty-handed as a bond with a Zentari could not be forced, but those who the stars smiled upon, those most blessed with a cherished mate, bonded in ways that grew legends. It was said their children were the most incredible of warriors.

Baast'mal was everything he imagined when told stories of Zentari as a child new to the Tribe. It didn't hurt that she was the most mesh'la female he'd ever seen. Fast. Strong. Deadly. He wondered at what the Empire had done to her, how they could force the blood bonds on Sand Panthers and Manka cats, and just what other mutations they'd caused.

He also wondered at her Force sensitivity. What she felt or even what she could do had not been discussed, but Mando knew there was more to her than he had yet discovered.

But it was the ache in him, the growing need to once again touch her skin that concerned him.

It was primal. Feral. It clawed at him. It had him itching to be closer - much closer - to her. He wanted to show her his face and hope she found him as pleasing as he did her.

Din had nothing to go by in comparison. He'd seen his reflection before, of course, but he had no way of knowing if a woman would think him handsome. He'd had encounters before, ones in which everyone walked away satisfied, some paid for, others freely offered, but the helmet and the beskar never came off.

With her, he wanted to be bare, stripped off all trappings. Din wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. He wanted to taste it.

"You are a very loud thinker," she mumbled, bright eyes glowing softly beyond the fire.

Mortification filled him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I do not know your thoughts, Mando," she clarified, "just feel a gentle buzzing from the beskar. It restricts what I pick up from you."

Relief almost had him sagging. Baast closed her eyes, but he was loath to let the conversation end.

"How old are you?" She looked young, maybe twenty-five.

Her brow twitched, amusement in her smile. "It is rude to ask."

"I wondered how long the Empire had you," he explained.

Shadows darkened her eyes. "Forty years."

"But they've only been around for thirty," he frowned.

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up. "They have been around much, much longer. I remember the day they came for us. They slaughtered all who fought, men and women. Every child they could catch was rounded up and taken away." She looked away, down at dark claws. "I was the only Zentari to survive the experiments."

"I'm sorry." He was. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

She tilted her head. "You were a foundling."

It wasn't a question, and Din didn't answer her.

"They began experimenting with my blood almost immediately. I was ten when they bound traits of the Manka to me. I was fifteen when they brought in the Panther."

"How? Why?"

Her eyes burned into his. "Because they could." She flexed her fingers. "Because they are depraved. Because they are monsters, who turn others into abominations."

"You're not."

She looked at him in surprise.

Din shifted until he stood and made his way around to her side, where he offered his hand. Baast took it and joined him in the shadows as he led her a few steps away from Grogu. He stripped his gloves from his hands, the need to touch her no longer under his control.

Slowly, he reached up to caress her cheek. He pushed her hair back, revealing the pointed tip of her ear. Her eyes gleamed from behind heavy lids when he stroked his fingers down her tricep and finally cupped her elbow.

He closed his opposite hand around her nape; his thumb pressed to her spiking pulse. "You are no monster."

"My blood is sullied."

"Perhaps. But you remain unbroken," he murmured. "You lived. You escaped. Mesh'la, you are a beacon of shining hope to my Tribe. If there is one Zentari, perhaps there are others."

She closed her eyes. "There is not."

"How do you know?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I felt the last die three years ago. It was what gave me the strength to escape."

"Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore," he murmured, rubbing his thumb on her pulse.

"Pressure makes gems; ease makes decay?" A small smile twitched her lips. "Am I a gem, Mando?"

"No."

She arched an amused brow.

"You are something more precious than any gem," he murmured.

Colour dusted her cheeks. "A Mandalorian who has a way with words? I truly have seen it all," she teased.

He sighed and made sure it echoed through the modulator. "Get some rest." He attempted to move away, but she grabbed him by the belt.

"Stay."

"Baast?"

"Stay." She took his hand, led him closer to Grogu, encouraged him to sit against a fallen chunk of tree, and then curled up beside him, tucking herself under his arm.

"The beskar is too hard," he worried.

"No harder than a prison cell, and you are much warmer. I have not known the comfort of another since I was seven," she admitted.

He sighed again but gave in, curling his arm around her.

"Thank you for your cape."

"Hm."

Her chuckle was more of a low purr. When it rippled through him, Din swore he felt something inside him purr back.

Next Chapter

#Star-Crossed #mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfiction

84 notes · View notes

graukadino · 3 years

Text

A Better Ending

Description: You are the norse god of destruction and creation, two sides of the same coin, and an old friend of Thor and Loki. After seeing the pain your destruction caused during a war Odin waged against another planet, you condemn yourself to a life of isolation, watching and influencing from the shadows and leaving your lover behind. While the giant purple grape threatens the safety of the universe you decide to come out of hiding and use your powers for good.

Pairing: (Light) Thor X Male! God! Reader

You pace back and forth, muttering to yourself as a warped spot in front of you shows Iron Man, Dr. Strange, Starlorde, Spider-Man, Mantis and Drax on Titan. Dr. Strange was looking at all the possible outcomes.

“Get it together, (Y/n). You can do this,” You tugged at your hair. “Use your powers for good. You can be good.”

The warped spot of time pulled your attention to Wakanda. Blue lightning cracked around a battlefield as Thor started swinging his new ax. Your eyes widened and shone a soft white.

“You can be good!” With a flash of light you’re form vanished.

~~~

The fight against Thanos went fast. Adrenaline pumped through everyone's veins and soon enough almost everyone was out for the count. It was just Tony and Thanos.

Tony kicks Thanos’ hand and forces it to the ground, holding it there with the armor from his suit. Twisting, his suit turns his hand to a mallet type shape and he punches Thanos in the face. He jumps back and just as fast he’s diving feet first into the enemies chest, pushing off and landing firmly on the copper colored ground.

Thanos tries to strike back but is pushed into a large rock, breaking it on impact. He recovers quickly, pulling the helmet of his opponent off with ease to reveal the shocked face of Tony Stark.

The helmet reforms and Tony puts his arms up just in time to block a blow from the giant. He’s not strong enough and is knocked to the ground.

Suddenly, Tony is kneeling, his hands over Thanos’, who flips him into the air. He lands on his back and Thanos aims to strike but is blocked. The much larger man countines to punch at his metal-clad opponent. He throws punch after punch before picking up the smaller man by the neck and pulling back his fist, held tightly in his golden gauntlet.

A blinding light shines from across the battlefield.

“Stop!” A voice booms out. As the light fades, Thanos finds his eyes widening. “You have had your fun, but enough is enough,” You had made up your mind. Thanos would fall and you would feel no regret. “It is my turn,”

“It can not be,” Thanos gasped out, in complete disbelief. His grip on the neck of his former opponent loosened and Tony fell, a pure white cushion catching him. You brought the cushion to you.

“Rest now, hero. You will be healed,” the cushion was engulfed in a softer, sweeter light than your arrival and was formed into a healing pod. “Spider, please gather your comrades while I handle the titan,” A heavily confused Peter Parker did as told, giving you and the now screaming, begging giant a look.

“Please! Spare me!” The kneeling form of Thanos shook as it begged the overpowered being in front of him. “I will make you king! I will give you the stones!” You chuckled, scaring the giant even more.

“I do not need the stones,” You replied dryly. “Nor do I need to be king,” You lifted your hand, snapping your fingers.

Thick, black chains and shackles formed around Thanos and tied him, similarly to the restraints used on Thor. Thanos was forced into a much more uptight kneeling position with one hand held behind his back and his other, gauntlet clad hand was forced towards you. Stepping forwards, you pulled the gauntlet off with ease, plucking the stones from their places and dropping them into separate pouches on your belt. You crushed the metal into a ball, dropping it into another pouch. When you were done, the arm was forced behind Thanos’ back like his other and three shackles morphed together to form a muzzle that clamped over the giant's mouth.

“Spider, have you gathered your allies?” You turned and were met with Peter setting down Drax and Dr. Strange.

“Yes, Mr…” Peter trailed off.

“I am (Y/n), Norse God of destruction and creation,” you smiled slightly. “And you?”

“O-oh, I’m Peter. Peter Parker. I’m also Spider-Man,”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Peter. But I believe we have some things to do,” Dr. Strange, Starlorde, Mantis and Drax were all surrounded by soft light and healing pods formed around each. With the same blinding light as your arrival, the healing pods, Peter, the mad titan and you vanished from the planet.

~~~

Your arrival light flashed in the lab Shuri worked to remove the Mind stone from Vision. The healing pods had flashed into the med bay and Peter went with them. Thanos, still restrained in your chains, was next to you, unable to move or speak.

The light caused Shuri to stop working and pick up her blaster. She focused it on you.

“Who are you?!” She demanded. Her accent was heavy and fear glinted behind her determined eyes.

“I am (Y/n), Norse God of destruction and creation. I come in peace,” You said, gesturing at the restrained giant. “Please do what you need. I will soon end this fight,”

Corvus Glaive burst through the door. His eyes widened as they landed on you and Thanos.

“Stand down,” You commanded. He dropped staff, restraints grabbing him and forcing him into the same position as his leader. “We will meet again Miss,” you bowed to Shuri before flashing away.

Falcon reported the flash of light from the lab but was soon blinded as the same light appeared, only brighter and covering the entire battlefield. As the fighting ceased along with the light, everyone’s attention was called to the center of the field.

“This battle is over!” A voice boomed. “Thanos has been captured and the Infinity Stones have been repossessed.”

A (h/c) male stood at the center of the battlefield, Thanos and Corvus kneeling to the side. The male lifted his hand, snapping his fingers. The Outriders disintegrate and are blown away by a soft breeze. The Black Order is restrained in the same position as Thanos and Corvus and flashed to the middle of the field.

“Thor!” You called as the blonde dropped in front of you. “Hello again, love,” The God pulled you into a tight hug and held you tightly. You took the opportunity to heal him, passing energy through your hands and into him. His skin tingled as cuts and scrapes were mended. After a few moments, you seperated.

“I have missed you, (Y/n),” Thor smiled, eyes watering slightly. Someone cleared their throat and your attention was called to the Avengers that now surrounded you. “Ah, (Y/n) this is the Avengers. They are Earth's mightiest defenders,”

“I know who they are, Love. I have been watching over you,” You turned your attention back to the surrounding Avengers. “I am (Y/n), Norse God of Destruction and Creation,” you bowed. “Now, the team from Titan is in the Med Bay. They had quite the fight with Thanos. They will be alright though. The question is, what will we do with Thanos and the Black Order?” Soon you were muttering to yourself, an ADHD type state setting in as you thought of options.

“Is he always like this?” Natasha asked.

“Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?” Thor smiled whimsically.

“What the…?” Clint trailed off, looking at Thor weirdly.

#avengers endgame #thor x male reader

125 notes · View notes

sinditia · 3 years

Photo

The sudden attack also reveals that Tony’s not the only one who’s been having strange nightmares

(I had so much trouble writing this chapter so the most massive of thank you’s to my beta, Sophie @blushing-starker , for helping me bring sense and clarity to my tangly sentences)

Corvus Glaive is dead. Tony’s gauntlets had killed him with the detonation, but Nebula explained that his life force is tied to his spear, which must also be destroyed for him to remain dead. She said that even though Glaive had been killed by Vision during the battle in Wakanda, the unbroken spear had allowed him to be resurrected. Tony snaps the spear in half.

A Quinjet picks them up and takes them all back to the Avengers Facility. Tony hovers worriedly around the medical team who are seeing to Peter’s injuries. They dress his shoulder wound and then there’s scanning and taking swabs of the gash and blood tests and more scans.

Grimly, the head doctor tells them that whatever it was Glaive’s blade was made of, it’s preventing Peter from healing at the rate that he normally would. But his blood tests are showing a clotting rate similar to that of normal humans, so it seems as though his wounds will heal eventually, just at the rate of a non-superpowered person.

Peter ends up needing to get stitches to help him heal. Unfortunately, his metabolism still burns right through the local anaesthetic, and it ends up being a very painful ordeal. He can’t hold Tony’s hand because he’ll squeeze it too tight and break his carpal bones. Instead, Tony curls his arm around Peter’s back, letting the younger man bury his face in the crook of Tony’s neck as he gets stitched up.

It takes all of Tony’s restraint not to snap angrily at the doctor when Peter winces and whimpers in pain with every push of the suturing needle through his skin. The doctor does try to work as quickly as possible but Tony is still fresh off the emotional distress of seeing Peter almost die. Watching the man he loves be in immense pain after all that is eating at his already frayed nerves.

When they’re finally done, Peter reclines on the hospital bed with his eyes closed, breathing heavily like he’s just run a marathon. His shoulder is bandaged and his arm is put in a sling to prevent movement that might jostle and break the stitches. There’s tears clinging to his lashes and tracking down his cheeks and Tony wipes them away with his thumb.

“Sorry,” Peter mutters, opening his watery eyes and looking at Tony.

“What in the actual fuck are you even sorry for?” Tony murmurs. He brushes Peter’s hair back from his forehead, running gentle fingers through his sweat-damp curls.

“I don’t know. For making you worry?”

“You did scare the shit out of me.”

The door opens and Sam enters the room sporting what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

“Nice to officially meet you, Spider-man,” he says. “Glad we’re on the same side this time and I’m not on the sticky end of your bodily fluids. I’m Sam.”

Peter gives him a tired smile. “Nice to meet you too, Sam. I’m Peter.”

“Oh, I know,” Sam says, grinning. “You’re famous, Pete. I don’t think I’ve gone a whole day without hearing your name on TV. Nabbing America’s most eligible bachelor and all that.”

Peter blushes.

“Leave him alone, Wilson,” Tony says sternly. “The guy’s got a hole on his shoulder-”

Peter lays a hand on Tony’s forearm. “It’s alright Tony,” he says placatingly.

Sam’s smile softens. To Tony, he says, “so I’m just letting you know, there’s some stuff in the lab we got off Glaive that we want you to take a look at.”

Tony glances at Peter. “Right now?” he asks Sam.

“Doc said Peter’s getting discharged. Figured you two would be taking off soon.” Sam shrugs. “It’s up to you. Just make sure to stop by the lab before you leave.”

Peter nods. “It’s okay, Tony. I kinda just want to go home. Might as well do it now.” When Tony hesitates, Peter assures him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Tony says, leaning in to kiss Peter on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

Exiting the medical bay, he and Sam walk down the hallway in silence but Tony can feel the unspoken remarks wafting off the other man like a bad odour.

Tony sighs. “It’s been a long fucking day, Wilson. I’m not really in the mood for any snarky comments about my relationship choices.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. You guys obviously care about each other.” Sam chuckles. “I’m just surprised none of us put two and two together. You bring Spider-man into the scene back in Berlin, some guy who obviously hasn’t seen even the tail end of the 90s. Then the next year you start dating someone in the exact same age bracket? Kind of obvious, in retrospect. Can’t believe none of us saw it.”

“Wanda and Nat knew.”

Sam gapes. “You told the girls and not us?”

Tony huffs exasperatedly. “They figured it out. And what are we, the 90210? I don’t need to tell you everything that’s going on in my life.”

The laboratory at the Avengers Facility was supposed to be Tony’s space in the compound. He had it constructed just the way he liked it, from the layout, the interior design, to all the equipment and amenities. With him and Banner absent, the lab is run by Selvig and his team of scientists. But right now the astrophysicist is at a conference somewhere so there’s just a handful of his minions around to greet them in the lab.

And Wanda.

“Did you know that Tony’s dating Spider-man?” Sam immediately asks her when they walk in.

Wanda looks up from where she’s scanning the blade of Glaive’s broken spear with the psionic energy emitting red from her dainty fingers. Her eyes dart to Tony who just shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“…yes?” Wanda replies. At Sam’s affronted expression, she continues defensively, “I was asked keep it off record!”

“I can’t believe you’re keeping secrets from me,” Sam grumbles.

“Can we like, move past all the teenage gossip and get to the point?” Tony asks irritably. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Relax about it. Why am I here?”

Sam reaches over and plucks a small glass vial of red liquid, about the length of his index finger. There are almost a dozen of them standing in a neat row on the lab’s counter.

“Pym particles,” Sam says. “Clean-up crew got them off Glaive’s body. Turns out he’s behind the break-in at their labs.”

Tony picks up the vial and examines it. He’s read about Pym particles in his dad’s notes. Hank Pym is notoriously secretive and distrustful. Even works published by his company don’t reveal much about the properties and full functionality of the particles.

“What did Glaive want with them?” Tony asks.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Sam says. “Why was he even after you in the first place?”

“I thought it was revenge, you know, for offing Thanos. But he wasn’t trying to kill me. He wanted to take me alive.”

“Do you think it has something to do with these particles? Maybe he wants you to do something with them.”

“But why me? Sure, give me a day, I could probably figure out all there is to know about these things. But wouldn’t it make more sense to kidnap Hank Pym? The person who actually invented the damn things? I mean, full offence, he’s also probably much easier to snatch off the street than I am. What’s with all the theatrics?”

Sam scratches his chin in thought. “I don’t know. I guess we’re still missing some pieces of the puzzle.”

Wanda sighs, pushing away from the counter where she’s been scanning Glaive’s spear. “I am getting nothing out of this weapon. Whatever ‘life force’ Nebula says is stored in this, there’s nothing in it now. I suppose it is safe to say that Glaive is well and truly dead.” She tilts her head in consideration. “You probably should have kept him alive for questioning.”

“Sorry. I just got caught up in the moment from where the guy almost killed Peter,” Tony says dryly. He boots up a holographic keyboard and types in some quick commands. “Upload all the data from this into my server. I’ll take a look at them.”

After getting a thanks from Sam, Tony makes his way back to Peter’s room. Halfway there, he runs into Bucky who’s apparently also on his way to the medical wing.

“I have to get neural scans after every mission. It’s part of the whole reintegration program,” Bucky informs him.

Didn’t ask, Tony thinks. But out loud, he says, “sure.” They end up walking together down the hallway.

“How is he?” Bucky asks after a few awkward seconds of silence.

“Who, Peter? Something about the blade he got hit with is slowing down his healing. But otherwise he’ll be fine with a bit of rest.”

Bucky nods. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Tony glances at him sideways. “Thank you for uh, saving him.” He clears his throat. “I guess we’re supposed to be square now, huh?”

Bucky gives him a wan smile. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“How is it supposed to work then?”

Bucky sighs wearily. “On my end? There’s no changing the past. There’s no wiping out the red. It’ll always be there. I just try to move forward and do some good. On your end? Well, that’s up to you. And whatever it is, I don’t begrudge you for it.” They arrive at the medical bay and Bucky turns to him. “For what it’s worth - and I know it’s probably not worth much - I truly am sorry.” He looks like he really means it. His blue eyes look too old on his young face, filled with resignation and remorse. He nods with a small smile before heading into the radiology unit.

Tony watches him go, waiting to feel that rush of rage that burned him in Siberia to hit him and being surprised that he can’t find it anymore. It’s not forgotten, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. And forgiveness? It’s difficult to wrap his head around the idea of forgiveness when that man, the man who dove into the river and saved Peter, isn’t the same person who caused the car crash on that dark winter road. What is there to forgive? How do you deal when the blood on your hands were put there by forces completely beyond your control? What does redemption even look like in that case?

Walking back into Peter’s room, Tony finds Nebula sitting by the younger man’s bedside, looking even more somber than usual. Peter’s features are also twisted in a frown and it immediately raises Tony’s shackles.

“What is it?” Tony asks them.

“Peter says you’ve been having nightmares too,” Nebula tells him.

“‘Too’?” Tony echoes.

“I don’t often have dreams. Not since…” Nebula looks down at her body. “And on the rare occasions that I do, they’re usually just incoherent flashes of memory. But lately…”

“Ever since we left Titan,” Tony finishes for her.

“Ever since we left Titan,” Nebula confirms.

Tony sits down, frowning. “What do you dream about?”

“Darkness,” Nebula says, grim and foreboding. “A heavy nothingness that seems to take up all the space in a room. And a voice. It says ‘Tony Stark’s time will come. Death will come for him soon.’”

Tony feels a chill that has nothing to do with the absurdly low temperatures these doctors like to keep the medical wing in. His heart thuds, icy dread pumping through his veins. But being himself, Tony can’t help but snort and go, “oooooh.”

“Tony,” Peter says sharply, expression deadly serious. To Nebula, he says, “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was anything of import,” Nebula admits. “The things I see in my sleep … they’re terrible things, but they aren’t real. Just by-products of a lifetime of trauma. They’ve never been prophetic.”

“That’s why Glaive managed to throw you off,” Tony remembers. “Earlier today when he said-”

“Yes,” Nebula says. “It’s possible he’s been having the same visions.”

“Wait, so they are visions?” Peter asks, glancing between Tony and Nebula. “They’re not just nightmares?”

Nebula looks away, avoiding eye contact. “Our father… Thanos forged a mental connection with us – his children – so that we could better enact his will. It was how they knew the battle was lost in Wakanda after we defeated him on Titan. But he’s dead. I know he is. I would feel it if he wasn’t-” She looks up at Tony, black eyes wild and determined. “I won’t let anything happen to you Tony. You have my word. I’ll go with Thor and the others off planet. I’ll find out what’s going on. I’ll-”

“Hey. Hey. Nebula.” Tony puts both hands on her shoulders before she goes completely off the rails. “Look, even if- even if these are visions. Maybe it doesn’t even mean anything weird. I mean…” he shrugs, “you know, death comes for everyone at some point.”

“Tony, I can’t believe you’re making jokes about this,” Peter snaps, glaring at him. “Their visions said death will come for you soon.”

“I mean…” Tony says weakly, gesturing at the crinkles around his eyes, the greys in his hair.

Peter scoffs angrily. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Tony sighs. “Look, I’m just saying. Let’s not jump into crazy conclusions. What are you gonna do, lock me up until-”

“I’m seriously considering it,” Peter says defiantly. “I am stronger than you.”

“Baby, you’ve got your arm in a sling. You can’t-”

“Like that’s gonna stop me. I’m still stronger,” Peter says, stubborn as ever.

“I concur with this plan,” Nebula adds. “We need to keep you safe while we figure things out.”

Tony runs a frustrated hand over his face. “Okay, who here isn’t A) lying in a hospital bed-” he glares pointedly at Peter, then turns to Nebula, “-or B) just suffered a concussion? Yes, we’ll figure this out. But no one’s locking anyone up.”

“Fine,” Peter says. “Let’s go meet with the Avengers. We’ll start the investigations.”

“Um, no. Me and my fellow Avengers are going to be figuring this out. You need to heal,” Tony says sternly. “The doctors prescribed you with bedrest until you heal properly.”

“Tony,” Peter says, voice more firm and commanding than he’s ever heard the younger man sound. “Either you come home with me while I heal or I come with you and help the others with the investigations. Your choice.”

They stare at each other for a few tense moments that even Nebula was loath to interrupt. But finally Tony deflates. “Fine. Let’s just go home.”

Nebula nods approvingly. “I will leave tonight.”

Tony’s already connected the lab’s dataframe to his private server and he’s sure the others would let him know immediately if they found some leads. The others might be a bit over their heads about the quantum physics surrounding the Pym particles, but that’s something Tony can work on remotely, at least on a modelling scale. Working on the actual particles in his lab at the penthouse might be a bit risky especially considering the implications of subatomic shrinking without some kind of quantum tunnel to stabilize-

Oh.

Peter sits quietly in the cabin of the helicopter, staring out the window and watching the rain starting to fall from the grey skies. Tony refuses to drive them back to the city by car after the incident. He had a Stark Industries helicopter flown in to the Avengers Facility and now they’re both sitting in there as it flies them back to Tony’s apartment.

The helicopter is more luxury than military, with a roomy cabin and leather seats. But even Peter knows enough about aircrafts to recognize the weapons control system built into the cockpit. He has no doubt that this sleek, business-looking helicopter is hiding all kinds of armament tucked in the fuselage, just like an Iron Man suit.

Tony sits next to him surrounded by multiple holographic pages showing data readings from Glaive’s broken spear and ongoing autopsy results being conducted at the Avengers Facility, Peter’s medical history and test results, information on the Pym particles, all scrolling at once with varying speeds as Tony takes them in with occasional swipes of his hand. The man himself is frowning as he stares at all the data, lost in thought.

Peter can’t get Nebula’s words out of his mind.

Tony Stark’s time will come. Death will come for him soon.

Peter doesn’t really know if he prescribes to visions or prophecy. But in a world with aliens and magic and powers of the entire cosmos condensed into a half dozen gemstones, it seems like nothing should be dismissed as an outright impossibility. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He wants to shut Tony away in his room while he goes and figures it out. But if staying locked away with Tony is the only way to keep the older man home and safe then Peter will do it. The Avengers can handle the investigations.

Peter glances over at Tony. He wonders if it should scare him how much he’s willing to do for Tony. He’s never felt this way before. That resolute, unwavering, all-consuming kind of devotion that tells Peter that everything will be okay, that he would be okay even if the whole world was on fire, as long as Tony is by his side.

Peter reaches over and takes Tony’s hand in his. Despite their argument earlier, the other man looks up at him and his expression softens. Peter’s heart clenches when Tony lifts their clasped hands and brushes his lips across the younger man’s knuckles.

They’ll be okay. Peter will make sure of it.

It’s full on raining by the time the helicopter lands on the rooftop of Tony’s apartment building. Having no umbrella, Tony holds his suit jacket over both their heads as they half-run together towards the rooftop entrance.

Walking into Tony’s apartment has a distinctly different feel to it than the last time Peter was here. Raindrops are falling full force against the floor-to-ceiling windows, reducing the view of the city into a formless, grey blur. There’s a faint rumble of thunder in the distance and Peter shivers a little in his slightly damp clothes. He hopes he didn’t get his bandages too wet.

Tony walks over to him and gently cups Peter’s face with both hands, tilting his chin up. There’s an aching earnestness in Tony’s eyes, something that’s yearning to cross the divide between them, a spoken sentiment that’s yet to take form. Peter has never been very good at hiding his emotions, and it’s impossible to do so when Tony is looking at him like that. Maybe Peter will say it first.

But for now they kiss. Softly, reverently, tenderly, like it’s a fragile thing they don’t want to break with rough, careless hands. Tony’s lips are slightly cold from the wind, but they quickly warm under Peter’s touch. There’s so much going on that he doesn’t understand, but Tony’s embrace is like taking shelter in a storm, safe in knowing that the elements can’t reach him when they’re together like this.

Peter takes the kiss and builds it higher, letting the slide of their tongues release a wave of arousal that feeds on itself until they’re both moaning in want. Peter arches his body up against Tony, his injured shoulder twinging as he tries to tug the older man closer to him, the hand that’s jutting out of the sling clutching desperately at Tony’s shirt.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” Tony murmurs, hands steadying Peter’s waist.

“Please, Tony. I need-” Peter fumbles with unbuttoning Tony’s shirt, tugging the fabric out of his pants.

“Peter, your shoulder…”

“I don’t care. We can just… we’ll make it work,” Peter says between kisses. “Please? I want to- I need to feel close to you. I need you, Tony.”

“Okay,” Tony says, his lips gentle against Peter’s, soothing him. “Okay, let me just … let’s just go a bit slower. I don’t want to hurt you.”

They make it to the bedroom. Tony coaxes Peter to lie on the bed as he undresses the younger man carefully. Peter shivers as Tony kisses him all over, the scrape of his beard a pleasant tingle on his sensitive skin. Tony has to undo the sling momentarily to slip Peter’s shirt off his shoulders and Peter doesn’t want to put it back on.

“It’s not sexy,” Peter mumbles.

Tony chuckles, kissing the tip of Peter’s nose. “It’s you, baby. Everything about you is sexy.”

Peter allows Tony to re-sling his shoulder after some more persuasive kisses. Also, when Tony takes the rest of his clothes off, any other thought flies right out of Peter’s mind anyway.

The solid build of Tony’s body and the soft definition of his musculature never fails to make Peter’s mouth water. But there’s a dark bruise blooming on his midsection that must be from the claws of Glaive’s harpoon. Peter reaches out his uninjured arm to trace it with his fingertips.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise,” Tony says, taking Peter’s hand and kissing the open palm of it. He leans down to hover over Peter’s body, caging him in his arms, breaths mingling with how close they are.

Peter looks up at him, feeling like his heart might burst. “Kiss me,” he whispers.

Tony obliges. It’s a fervent sort of kiss, hungry and possessive. Peter lets it wash over him, pinned under Tony’s weight and the urgency of his touches. Peter’s legs spread in welcome and Tony grinds their hips together, both hard and aching as their naked bodies move in sinuous synchrony.

Tony prepares him a little too meticulously, until Peter’s squirming and whining in desperation at the way Tony’s clever fingers are moving inside him. He wants to feel every inch of Tony stretching him out, carving out a space inside him that only Tony can fill.

Peter can barely stifle a gasp when Tony finally enters him, slow and unrelenting like the weight of all the words that are steadily climbing the back of Peter’s throat. He’s never felt so complete as to when Tony’s inside him, driving his cock in deep and unstoppable, like waves meeting the shore over and over again.

Tony is glorious above him, powerful and beautiful. His lust-darkened eyes gaze down at Peter with the kind of adoration of which the younger man never imagined he’d ever be on the receiving end. Tony is everything. He’s all that Peter can see, all that he can feel right now.

Peter can’t imagine not having this. He doesn’t want to think about all the dire possibilities, the unknown threat that’s looming over their heads. He can’t lose Tony. Not when he’s lost so many people in his life already. It would kill him. He clutches tightly at Tony’s shoulders, turning his head to find the other man’s lips, kissing him hard and desperate.

Tony hauls Peter’s thighs up under the crook of his elbows, folding him almost in half as he shoves in deeper, groaning at the change in angle. “God, Pete, you feel amazing. Is this good for you, baby?”

“Yeah,” Peter exhales. “Yeah, it’s so good, Tony. I-” His breath hitches with every thrust of Tony’s hips, hitting that spot inside him that makes him see stars. The pleasure is almost overwhelming. Peter bites his lip and shuts his eyes, feeling the fire in his gut burning ever brighter, coiling and clenching and ready to combust. It’s too much, too good. He can’t hold it back anymore. “I love you,” he gasps. “Oh, God, I love you so much, Tony. Oh, fuck!”

Peter hears Tony choke out a grunt against the crook of his neck. “Oh, baby, I love you too. I love you too, baby. You have no idea-” Tony groans as he feels Peter’s climax grip around him, hips stuttering as he fucks him erratically, harder and faster until he spills his orgasm into Peter’s body.

“I love you,” Peter says again, like a prayer, like an incantation that would save them, protect them from whatever forces out there that might try to take Tony away from him.

“I love you,” Tony says with a kiss, completing the circle.

Tony doesn’t fall asleep. He holds Peter in his arms as the younger man dozes off, breathing steadily on his chest. Tony’s fingers brush gently through Peter’s soft curls, lost in his thoughts.

Ask any genius with any semblance of a moral compass and they’ll tell you there are dark things their minds curse them with. Ideas and inventions that unfold like intrusive thoughts, ways to destroy the world and everything in it in multiple different ways.

Tony knows why it had to be him. He’s the only one who can do it. If Hank Pym was capable of doing it, he probably would have done it already.

But it should be over with Glaive’s death, right? Nothing needs to happen if Tony doesn’t make it happen. He holds the key to a locked door and he’s never ever going to open it.

Tony doesn’t fall asleep because he can’t sleep. He slowly slips out from under Peter’s arms and sits up on the bed, watching the younger man sleep. Peter looks so beautiful curled up in his bed, like he belongs there. Something about this moment makes Tony want to forget about everything, carve out a little space in time where this particular moment will stretch on forever and ever. Something is telling him not to get out of bed.

There’s a noise coming from the living room. It’s odd, F.R.I.D.A.Y. should have notified him of any threat.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Tony finds Doctor Strange standing a few paces down in his hallway, still in the same robes from the last time they saw each other on Titan.

Strange’s expression is somber and sympathizing. “Tony,” he says. “The time has come.”

Part 21

#starker #marsha writes

23 notes · View notes

dragonsholygrail · 4 years

Text

Saving My Savior

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4K

𝗮/𝗻: This is an AU for Loki’s time with Thanos. It’s in-between Thor and Avengers. The MC is another daughter of Thanos. She looks human enough but she has these powers of the mind. She can make people believe anything she wants. Whether they are seeing something or she’s making them believe they’re in pain and a bunch of other powers that include the mind.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Swearing, talks about, and shows torture.

Gamora swung, punching me hard in the face. I grunt, stumbling back and wiping the blood from the corner of my lip. Both of us were breathing heavily as we moved back into our fighting stance. We had been training for hours. I was losing. And I never lost!

I wasn’t too surprised though; I was once again asked and expected to torture the man I was in love with. Thanos didn’t know of course. And I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t imagine what pain Thanos would inflict on Loki and if he found out about our love.

I threw a punch of my own yet Gamora moved to the side. I punched, aiming for her throat, her stomach, her face. Yet every time she moved to the side as if I was moving in slow motion and she had all the time in the world. I growl under my breath. I was losing patience for this...

Finally Gamora moved, she kicked out her foot and aimed at my chest. I caught it and tugged her forward, using my other hand to latch around her throat. Gamora was quick to snap her own hands to my throat. We stand closely, both of us squeezing and both of us losing our air supply. Teeth barred to her, I stomp my foot against her knee and she buckles.

She crashes onto the metal floor. I let go of her and step back. I barley have time to collect myself before she lunges out. One hand goes to my jaw and the other on top of my head. I freeze. She sees this and her eyes harden.

“What’s wrong? Can’t figure your way out of this one?” She goads. I assess the hold she has on me. It’s loose. I scream and roughly push her away from me. The force knocks her back onto the ground. She looks up at me with ferocity, clutching her side loosely. I eye the movement intently. Interesting...

Gamora grunts as she stands, still keeping her arm across her stomach to guard her side. “You’re growing weak, sister,” she hisses. I inhale sharply and clench my fists tightly.

I scream, stomping towards her and delivering blow after blow anywhere I could make contact. But Gamora was ready. She stepped back and side-blocked each move I made. My patience was getting thin and I needed to win this. With a sharp inhale I swipe up her feet and thrust the palm of my hand to her chest. Gamora when flying back. But with her body in the air she barrel rolled and kicked me in the face.

We both fell harshly onto the metal floor. Gamora and I groan in sync. I don’t bother trying to get up, instead, I lay on the floor and stare up at the ceiling of this level of the ship. I see Gamora sit up from my peripheral vision.

“You’re getting weaker sister. I don’t usually come this close to beating you,” Gamora comments, a hint of amusement in her voice. That was it; my patience snapped like a rubber band. I make my way back to her, rage spilling over me in waves.

“I. Am. Not!” I yell, focusing in on her and honing my powers. In an instant Gamora is screaming in pain, my powers forcing her to believe she was in the worst pain imaginable. Gamora’s body arches before she begins to contort and wither in pain.

I soon let up on the illusion and crouch down next to her. Gamora relaxes and looks up at me lazily.

“Know your place,” I spit out lowly. I place my hands on my knees to help me stand back up. I don’t look back at her as I head to my private quarters to freshen up.

I let my hair fall from its towel before I start to re-dress. It’s only when I’m zipping up my leather jacket that someone knocks on the door. I look in the mirror and smile. The outfit I wore was dark green, black, and gold. I had taken to Loki’s colors with fondness. I move with hurried pace to open the door. Standing in front of me was one of Thano’s little lackey’s: Ebony Maw.

“Maw,” I greet distastefully. Ebony’s lip curls into a snarl.

“Thanos requires your assistance,” he says back, the mutual hate between us evident. Yet I stiffen at the phrase he spoke. It was a code of sorts, a calling for me whenever Thanos needed me to torture someone. It just so happened to be Loki that it had been leading too these last few months. I give him a curt nod. What was I supposed to do? Refuse Thanos? That’s wishful thinking.

Ebony Maw turns on his heel and starts leading me towards the torture chambers. We enter the lower levels of the castle. Before we are about to turn a corner, I almost bump into my sisters. Nebula held Gamora up and Gamora was still guarding her side. I look over them and try not to scoff. And she thinks I am the weak one, I think to myself.

“Gamora... Nebula.” I nod, even letting a smirk grace my face. Nebula senses the smug tone in my voice and she straightens. Always trying to prove herself; the little runt of the family.

“Sister,” Nebula responds cordially.

“Come now,” Maw snaps. I look and realize he’s all the way at the end of the hall. I start to go on my way when Gamora grabs my for arm in an iron grip.

“Please, sister. Don’t do this. If Thanos finds out—“

“And he won’t... Will he?” I interrupt, looking up at her. She stares at me deeply. I know she worries, but I can take care of myself. Gamora breaks from my gaze and looks down to the ground. I rip my arm out of her hold and continue to follow Ebony Maw.

As we walk down the corridors I can’t help but think back on the time Gamora had walked in on one of my sessions. It was around the time I had started to grow feelings for the troublesome god. Instead of using my powers to torture him, I would use them to give him peace. He would sit against the wall and beckon me into his lap; a comfort we both needed. Then I would use my illusions or conjure moments of peace and happiness for us. But Gamora had walked in and broke the spell. There was a lot of yelling— mostly on her part. There was a lot of nervous tears—mostly on my part.

But at the end of the day, Gamora wanted me to be happy for as long as we could manage to pull this off for. She always told me she wouldn’t risk my safety for the god of mischief. And over the past few weeks, Thanos has been growing impatient. He wanted results and he wanted Loki ready. Of course Loki was fine— mentally. Physically he was malnourished and dehydrated. But he was not as susceptible to Thanos as Thanos thought.

Ebony Maw stops in front of a metal door that had two guards stationed out front...More of Thanos’ so called “children”: Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive.

“Open the doors,” Maw commanded. Proxima nodded and turned to the door. She entered in a code even I didn’t know and the steel doors opened with a snap. Maw moved to the side and motioned for me to walk inside. I swallow thickly and enter the plain grey room.

The only decoration in the room was laid in the center. Chains hung from the ceiling and some more were sealed to the ground. In those chains were Loki. His head hung low and his knees ghosted over the floor. I could tell he was clearly starving, thirsty, and exhausted. I hated seeing him like this. If only he could get away...

My heart rattled. Of course I didn’t want him gone and away from me, but who was I to have him stay here in pain? If he could get out, I would let him go. I would help him go! Anyway I could...

I stand, stiff and tense. I can feel all of their gazes on my back. I wait impatiently until I hear the snap of the doors. As soon as the seal clicks my shoulders slump and I race towards him. Skidding to the floor, I grasp the chains at his feet and use my key to unchain him.

It’s only then that Loki even senses my presence. The chains around his wrists clank and he eventually manages to pull his head up and look at me.

“You’re here,” he croaks. I smile, taking his face in my hands and kissing him lightly.

“Of course I am. And I’m about to make everything better.” I nod, assuring him and trying to assure myself. He looks up at me as I stand and reach for the chains around his wrists. When I get an arm loose, Loki immediately latches it around my waist. I unlock the other and his arms wind around my hips to support himself. I brush my fingers through his hair tenderly. I can feel his steady breathing against my stomach and my mind calms down. He’s here, with me. He is ok.

When I feel he’s ready to move, we both separate. Loki sits on his arse and scoots against the wall without any help from me. His cheeks looked hallow and the dark circles under his eyes were a heartbreaking sight to see. But he held out his hand and motioned for me to sit in his lap. My brows furrow as I walk over to him. He looked oh so fragile. I attempt to sit down carefully when his arm wraps around my waist and he curls me into him. He hums in approval and a smile grows on my face. I slide my right hand against his chest and burrow my face in his neck. He responds by tightening his hold on me.

“Are you ready?” I ask quietly. Loki inhales slowly before letting out the breath.

“Yes, I think I am,” he confirms.

And just like that, the world around us shimmered away. We now stood in Asgard’s ballroom; a memory I had taken from Loki’s mind. I laugh quietly as Loki’s face immediately brightened. He spun slowly, looking around the place in awe. My smile widens as I look over the love of my life. In my illusion I painted him how I always imagined him. Like a king.

He looked full, quenched, and well-rested. He looked immeasurably happy. Loki turns full circle and lands on me. His lips curl into a wicked grin as he sees my dress.

“Well don’t you look marvelous,” he compliments. My gown fell to the floor and was an abstract design of green, black, gold, and white. I nod and motion back to him.

“As do you, Loki, Prince of Asgard,” I say back. Both Loki and I look down to admire his apparel. He wore Asgardian robes. Green and gold colors adorning it that gave him a refined look. Loki chuckled, happiness radiating off of him as he took everything in, once again. I simply stand and watch him. Seeing and feeling the happiness he feels whenever we go somewhere was simply the greatest feeling in the world.

Loki suddenly grows very serious and I fear I did something wrong. Did I mess up the illusion. He walks towards me, a determined yet slightly nervous edge in his posture. He stops about a foot away from me and holds out his hand.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, his voice silky and smooth. I bite my lip, wanting to suppress that certain smile only he can cause. I nod, not trusting my voice. He grins as if he could possibly know and delicately takes the hand I hold out for him. He pulls me towards him and wraps his free hand around my waist. We hold onto each other with a hand each and I use my free one to rest it across his back. We begin to sway. Realizing that we might need some music, I begin playing a song taken from a memory of a random person on Midgard.

‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri starts playing. Loki jumps, looking up at the sky and I begin to laugh.

“What in the Valhalla?” He muttered. I laugh again, causing him to look down at me.

“It’s from Midgard. It’s what mortals are listening to,” I explain. His lips part and he looks back up to the sky.

“It’s quite nice,” he whispers, then without looking at me, rests his cheek on the side of my head. I smile and pull him impossibly closer.

“I thought it fit,” I say with a shrug as the song continues to ‘I have died everyday, waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more.’ With my head on his chest, I hear the deep rumble of Loki’s chuckle.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” he agrees.

We dance steadily till he surprises me, stepping back and guiding me to spin in a circle under our lifted hands. I do so and gasp as he pulls me close again. I look up at his smiling face and revel in the fact that I was the one causing that.

‘And all along I believed, I would find you

Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more.’

Loki leads us through the room. He spins me, he guides me, he moves our arms fluidly with each new move of the dance.

‘One step closer

One step closer’

He steps back, holding out his arm. I don’t hesitate to take it, walking back into his comforting embrace. He moves his hands and his touch begins near my shoulders. They glide down along my exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise. I shudder. He smirks as if it was the exact reaction he had been wishing for before he softly places my arms around his neck. He winds his own arms around my waist and draws us close.

“This has been lovely,” Loki murmurs, his head ducked down close to my ear. I merely respond with the slight ‘mhm.’ I was tired. Using my powers for so many things for so long was beginning to take its toll. “When must it end?” He asks. I look up; leaning my head out as far as to see him, though my eyes slightly drooped. I look into his eyes and see the sadness and pain creep up on him. The thought of going back to being malnourished was not something anyone would look forward to.

“We can stay for a little while longer,” I assure him, trying to give my best uplifting smile. Loki’s gaze immediately hardens and his hand moves to cup my cheek.

“You’re tired,” he states. I flop my shoulders in an attempt to shrug. His jaw clenches as he sends me a look. “Do not lie to me,” he grits out. I sigh deeply and let my head sag into his hand. Clear worry replaces the mask of anger on his face at the sight of me.

“It’s hard, I’ll admit. The limit on my power is being stretched thin,” I explain. His brows furrow deeper. “Casting multiple illusions for a multiple of people… I have you and myself here. I have our clothes, your health, the music, and I am casting illusions onto Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive,” I give in and explain. Loki’s thumb brushes my cheek.

“What for?” He asks softly. I wince. My head spins and my arms shoot out to hold onto his forearms.

“To make them believe I am torturing you. The sound of your...screams. To avoid suspicion.” I look at him deeply.

“Then we should leave.” Loki nods. I shake my head rapidly.

“No, no. Loki, I’ll be alright. This is all you get. Fleeting moments with me. I want to make them worthwhile,” I express. He chuckles.

“Even the shortest of moments with you are worthwhile.” I shake my head. I hang my arms back around his neck and I hold him close.

“Can we— can we just finish the song? Then we’ll go,” I whisper. I hear him sigh, but eventually he nods and holds me tightly.

I have died everyday, waiting for you

Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more

My lips part. I certainly felt faint. I don’t dare do anything or react. Feeling exhausted was worth doing this for him; because once the illusion was shattered, we would both be back in Thanos’ home. We would both be miserable. A trickle of a feeling passed over me. Something was wrong… but the weakness was consuming my body and I couldn’t tell what was happening. As much as I wanted to focus on Loki and Loki alone, I thought deeply on the sense of dread coursing through my body.

And all along I believed, I would find you

Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more

“Thanos,” I whisper, realization flooding me. A look of horror graced my face as Loki leant back to stare at me.

“Pardon?” He asks. I gasp.

“Thanos.”

Suddenly our world shattered. I scream, being yanked by my hair. I look at Loki as he crumples to the floor, only being held up by my dear brother and sister. I crane my head upwards only to see Thanos gripping my hair tightly. His jaw was locked and if he could, his face would be red with anger. I guess it turned a little brown…

My eyes fall over to Gamora who held her hands over her mouth, regret in her eyes.

“You bitch!” I growl. She closes her eyes. Thanos yanks my hair back and I groan, feeling the strain on my scalp.

“Your sister did the right thing. She exposed me to the traitor in our midst. I just never thought it would be one of my children.” Thanos spoke darkly.

“I’m not your kid,” I spit out. I cry out after he yanks my hair back once again.

“We’ll put them in separate rooms. We have months of work to catch up on,” Thanos orders.

“Loki,” I whisper as Thanos turns around, dragging me out of this room and into the next.

Thanos throws me onto the floor of an empty room. I grunt in landing.

“Let’s get to work,” Thanos says with a wide smirk.

Hours later…

Everything hurt. He had performed every form of torture known throughout all the universes. And there was a lot. When he had finished, I hung from the wall. We both knew I wouldn’t be able to stand on my own. Thoughtful, wasn’t he? He bends down to look me in the eye.

“Let us go show your lover what being with him costs. Maybe that will get him to comply,” Thanos says through clenched teeth.

Thanos rips the chains off my body and carries my by the back of my neck. I groan in pain from just about every move made by me and Thanos. The door to the room Loki’s in opens and Thanos throws me inside. I crash onto the ground and I groan, feeling parts of my body throb in pain.

“What? What did you do?!” Loki shouts weakly, his own injuries not redenering him the most useful. Loki was sprawled out on the floor. He cried out, moving to get closer to me. Thanos stepped in front of me.

“Do you love her?” He asks lowly. Loki flinches, turning his gaze to the floor. “Do you love her, boy?!” He yells.

“Yes,” Loki says weakly. A sick smirk grows on Thanos’ face.

“Then look upon what you have done to your beloved, because this,” Thanos growled, stomping around and gripping the hair at the base of our heads. He yanks us both up to stare at each other. “Is what happens when you go against me,” Thanos speaks darkly. Tears fall down my face. My scalp felt like it was on fire. Loki’s jaw was clenched as if he was trying to hold in all the pain. He let us both fall to the floor and I gasped, tears falling quicker by the minute. This was agony.

Thanos moves around me, pulling and tugging at my limbs to get me in another set of chains that must have been brought in. He then moves and I watch as he starts chaining up Loki. I close my eyes, trying to focus on better things. Thanos eventually steps away from us and looks at his work.

“Look at what your betrayal has led to… I’ll be back for you both soon enough,” he explains before walking out of the room. Once the seal closes I let the illusion shatter. Loki suddenly noticing he wasn’t in chains, scrambles up into a sitting position.

“What is?” His eyes flicker up to me. He inhales sharply as he moves to cup my face with his hands. “What are you doing?” He croaks out. I close my eyes briefly before I smile as much as my injuries would allow me.

“I promised myself that if you ever got the chance to leave, I would let you. More importantly, I would help you. This is me helping you,” I whisper. Loki shakes his head.

“But I- I can’t. I can’t leave you here,” he whispers out desperately. As much as it hurt, I pushed forward and leaned my forehead against his own.

“Please…” I trail off. We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before he nods, determination flooding his features.

“What do I do?” He asks. I exhale in relief.

“Use the tesseract. Get out of here and find help. Thanos will not stop once he’s lost you. He will find another and create the same chaos he first intended. Find the most powerful beings in the multi-verse and stop him,” I explain, putting as much strength as I could muster in my voice.

“I will,” he says, standing up. “And I will come back for you,” he states. I grin and do my best to shrug no matter how much it hurt.

“I’ll be waiting…”

Loki chuckled and hauled himself up, groaning in the process.

“I’ll try and keep an illusion around you as long as I am able,” I tell him. He nods and kisses my forehead softly.

“Don’t strain yourself, love,” he says against my forehead. I peer over my shoulder and watch him move out of the room. I was already beginning to feel tired.

“Hurry,” I whisper.

Third person.

Loki reaches the room that held the tesseract. He was surprised no one had noticed him but he chalked that up to her not listening to him. He walked up to the blue cube and reached for it.

“If you leave, I will kill her,” a deep voice grumbled. Loki spun on his heel and was met face-to-face with Thanos. Loki let his hand fall to his side. “But… if you go to New York and allow the Chitari through, I will let you and her go. Fail me, I’ll kill you both,”

Loki froze. He needed to save her. He couldn’t let her die after she risked everything to save him. He couldn’t do that to her. He sighed and dug his hands into his greasy hair. He didn’t want to do this, he knew she wouldn’t want him to do this… but he saw no other choice.

“So, will you do it?” Thanos asked expectantly. Loki let his hands fall before looking Thanos in the eye.

“I will.”

80 notes · View notes

astoldbygingersnaps · 3 years

Text

#wip wednesday

have the smallest of small sneak-peaks from the lastest star trek au chapter, which currently stands at about 6k words and will probably end up pushing 30k.

(cw for implications of torture and violence)

Given the various monstrosities the man has engineered, it’s unnerving to be reminded that Danzo Shimura is, in the end, just a man. His humanity and frail, flesh and blood weakness are evident in the lines of his face and sallow paleness of his skin. But such weakness somehow makes him no less imposing as Itachi stands in the ship’s communication center and meets the man’s piercing gaze. With the way Danzo’s influence has hung over his life for the last few years, manipulating his choices and relationships from the shadow, perhaps it’s only fitting Danzo is once again lurking over him, this time broadcasted over one of the large screens hanging from the center’s ceiling. But at least this time Itachi’s actually aware of what kind of creature is hiding in the darkness.

For a moment they simply watch each other, like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a hungry wolf, until Danzo finally offers Itachi a genial grin and says, as if they’re long-lost friends, “You’ve changed your hair since the last time I saw you. It suits you.”

It takes physical effort for Itachi to swallow his rapidly building temper, his latent hot-headedness triggered at the mere implication of such a seemingly innocuous compliment. “If you truly think I chased you across the galaxy to engage in meaningless small talk, then you are a fair stupider man than this world has given you credit for.”

Delighted at getting a rise out of him, Danzo laughs heartily in response. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time, First Officer.” Eyebrows rising in mock realization, he adds, “Though, I suppose I should be calling you ‘Captain’ now, shouldn’t I?”

“A temporary arrangement,” Itachi argues, grateful that he trusted his instincts and banned every member of his crew from witnessing this conversation; the last thing any of his people needs to see is the sight of their new Captain fraying even further. “One I’m hoping to end sooner rather than later.”

“Which is why you’ve come to me.”

“You knew that I would,” Itachi says. “That is the reason you took Shisui from the Corvus in the first place.”

“Yes and no,” Danzo counters, actually catching Itachi off-guard. “You know, it was actually a bit of a gamble, using him to lure you out. After all, Vulcans are exactly known for their reckless sentimentality.” Something always lurid enters Danzo’s features as he adds, quieter than before, “But it would seem Kabuto’s intel was correct: you truly are your father’s son.”

The reminder of his former friend’s betrayal mixed with the subtext dripping off the statement has Itachi’s fists clenching at his side. Trying to maintain a tight grip on his rationality, he instead asks, “You implied you had a secondary purpose for capturing Shisui. What was it?”

“Honestly? The truth is…” The man’s expression sharpens, bloodthirsty and far more benefiting of his goals and lies. Looking into that dark nothingness, a chill works its way up Itachi’s spine as Danzo explains, simply, “I wanted to make him suffer.”

Putting aside the visions of torture and agony that are unwillingly flooding his mind, Itachi decides to skip ahead to the heart of the matter. “I contacted you to negotiate a trade.”

“I take it your good Captain has confessed to all the things he’s been hiding from you, then?” Itachi doesn’t bother answering, not when Danzo already knows his response and would no doubt find some slimy way to use it against him. Of course, even without Itachi’s confirmation the man still finds a way, as he comments, with faux sympathy, “It’s a terrible thing, isn’t it? When you can’t trust the people you love?”

“If you insist on continuing to mock me with your snide, disgusting little remarks, then any and all dealings between us are off the table,” Itachi snaps, finally unable to hold his anger back.

“And if you throw in the towel now, your beloved will die a sad and miserable death,” Danzo counters dryly. “Something tells me you won’t let that happen so easily.”

Silently cursing himself for his vulnerability, Itachi takes a steadying breath and tries again. “I will make you one offer and one offer only. In exchange for Shisui to be returned to our custody alive and in solid health, I will give you the Panacea along with my assistance in decoding its healing properties.” Ignoring the doubt curling in his mind, Itachi says, barely above a murmur, “Take me as your prisoner instead.”

to be continued.

#my fic #star trek au #shiita #itashi #tbh i wasn't expecting to have so much of this chapter done so quickly #but after the cliffhanger of the last chapter i just wanted to keep going #fingers crossed it'll be done by the end of the april #and i can get back on a decent posting schedule

9 notes · View notes

amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 22: I'll Come Back for You RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!) WARNINGS: violence, sex, the usual, as always tell me if you need anything else tagged!! SUMMARY: “No,” you cry again, but this time you go limp. You’re crying now, for real. The planet is crushing you. Or maybe the air. Or maybe it’s just your own broken heart, suffocating itself against your ribs.

“Nova,” Din whispers again, “Cyar'ika, you have to hide. You have to stay out of reach of Gideon, which means you have to stay out of reach of me. Hey. Hey. Listen to me.” You try to find your center of gravity, but you can’t. You tumble to the ground, tears hurtling down your cheeks. Din follows you, clinging to you all the way down. “You just need to stay away long enough for me to defeat Gideon, kill him, and get the Darksaber back to Bo-Katan. Once he’s dead, once this is over, I’ll come back for you. Do you understand me?” AUTHOR’S NOTE: i am just truly so sorry for this. i would say the usual "happy Something More Saturday!!!!!!!!!" but i broke my own heart with this one. angst lovers, this one is for you, fluff lovers (me included) i promise it's just getting worse before it gets SO much better, and that i have a very sold (and fast) plan to fix it. more notes at the end. i love you :(

In and out, the lightsabers pulse. It doesn’t just flicker and hum with the glow of a kyber crystal, Ahsoka’s blades themselves run in radiating beams of light. It might just be the atmosphere on Corvus, the way that the fog messes with the brightness, but they look infinitely more real than you remembered the one back on Coruscant looking. When you held that one in your hand, it felt like a weapon. Hers feel like a lifeforce, equally as strong and as radiant as the other.

Ahsoka’s demeanor is just as ebullient, even though it’s clear she’s just as determined as she is kind. She’s tall in stature, purposeful with the way she walks. She seems to know the planet inside and out, although you’re not quite sure if that comes from lived experience or Force intuition. Every step she takes is intentional. You’ve tried to muster up the courage to ask her questions, to understand how the Force works through her, but every time you do, something else makes it sink back down into obscurity.

All three of you are in awe of her. Din’s quiet is usually just as purposeful, but here, you can tell it’s because he’s trusting, and that he knows she’s the one to default to. His visor tracks her footprints against the dirt of Corvus. The baby is currently in your arms, ears perked up every time Ahsoka speaks or moves in a certain way. You’re just openly staring. You know you’re probably being rude, or at the very least making her uncomfortable, but you can’t help yourself. This is the closest you’ve ever been to a Jedi before, and you can feel the energy radiating off of her. It’s like the baby’s, only fine-tuned and amplified. That sort of mind-meld connection you have with him, all of that radio frequency is sharing one, unified thought—I love her.

The three of you follow her, deep into the foggy forest, and you can feel Din’s eyes lock onto you when you’re stepping over the roots, watching Ahsoka’s footfalls. He holds up a gloved hand to help you over the large and mossy ones, but other than that, you just track her movements, a strange, bound triumvirate. When you finally reach the hill that feels like her temporary home, you sit yourself down on a low rock, cracking all the ache out of your neck, heart hammering, trying to figure out what comes next.

It doesn’t. Not for a long while, at least. Din starts to fill the silence once, then twice, then three times, but Ahsoka just looks serene and quiet, gaze intense enough to stop anything, and his voice falters off somewhere inside the modulator. Her eyes are locked on the baby’s, all that blue counteracting his giant ones. You see the way his facial expressions move, how his nose twitches, and it’s like you’re remembering a fragment of a memory. They seem to be communicating in another language, or some frequency you can’t quite seem to tap into. The way that you and the baby have been talking, somehow, you know it’s different. This is a practiced act, something wizened and older than you are.

You exchange looks with Din every once in a while, just trying to stay quiet and not interrupt whatever Ahsoka and the baby are doing, but everything in you is a complete live wire. You can feel his gaze on you, just as sparking, just as bright. Everything feels huge and colossal in a way it didn’t before, like you can feel all these moments in time through the blips of your visions starting to lace themselves together into something tangible. Even in the fog, even with the residual sounds of the town you know is nearby, you can feel how loudly the energy is pulsing. Something in you tells you Din feels it, too, even without his own tether to the Force.

Ahsoka is serene. She’s tall and athletic, lean muscles that bulge whenever she flexes. Her lips are always pursed together, and her skin is somehow even more orange and beautiful in the foggy, low light. She’s clearly been from one end of the galaxy to the next, seen wars you’ve only heard about. Her sabers are slightly different shapes. You notice them whenever they catch reflection through the trees.

For hours, it feels like, you’ve been sat here. You slowly slide off the mossy rock you’re perched on, trying to stretch your legs out, shake the stiffness off them. Your new pants are getting dirty, which is a shame considering the hassle you and Din went through to get them, but you happily spread out on the ground, relieving the aching pressure as quietly as you can. He sits, finally, after realizing this whole interaction might take some time. He tries again to talk to her, and when Ahsoka just tilts her head to gaze deeper into the baby’s eyes, he gives up.

You can feel the sigh through the modulator from here. It’s become less about sound, now, and just the recognition that he’s sighing. Even though it’s long and heavy, you know how much of a relief it must be for the three of you to finally be here, to meet a Jedi who can train the baby. It’s the thing he’s been tasked to do for as long as you’ve known him, and after so many close calls with Gideon and the residual death that follows him around, you can feel the pressure radiating in waves off Din’s back. Before, the three of you were outnumbered and outgunned. But now, with Ahsoka? Now, you’ve got a fighting chance. One that might give you the opportunity to strike fast instead of running, dodging, and hiding.

Din pokes at your leg. You look up at him, squinting, smile filling up your whole face. Slowly, he slides down to the forest floor beside you, and you rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, just long enough to be intentional, and he leans into your touch. You don’t want to be loud, don’t want to do anything to startle Din or the baby or Ahsoka, but then Din’s pinky cinches yours at the knuckle, and you sigh happily. Even with the noises echoing from the town in unrest, even with your heart still racing from all the scrapes with Gideon and his henchmen on the last few planets, there’s something warm and bright here in this little nook in the woods. The light is low in the sky before you hear anything from Ahsoka and the baby, and you curl your knees into your chest, trying to quiet the grumble of your stomach.

“How long has it been?” you murmur, quiet enough that you thought Din would be lucky to catch it, even sitting up right against you, but then Ahsoka is the one to answer.

“Long enough,” she says, and you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks. “We had a lot to talk about.”

“Talk?” Din asks, silently making his way to his feet. “What did you—speak about?”

“Everything,” Ahsoka answers, voice still smooth and even. “He’s been looking for me for a long time.”

You glance back and forth between her and the baby. “D—did he know you before?”

She tilts her orange head at you, and you feel your breath catch in your chest. “No,” Ahsoka confirms, “but he’s been looking for a Jedi for some time now. Grogu seems to have found a family instead.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Grogu?” Din repeats, head tilted, stepping forward. “Is that—?”

“His name,” Ahsoka answers, nodding. The baby—Grogu—coos from where he’s sitting, his big green ears perked up and attentive. He doesn’t really grin, just coos happily at you, but you see his small mouth break into a smile. You can feel his energy, how calm he is, how at peace he must be now that all three of you have your true names, your family unit together and truly whole. You quietly kneel down in front of where he’s sitting, and he grabs a hand at your necklace, swinging out against your squat and catching the low light. You let him thumb over the Rebel insignia, spending a few extra seconds pressing the pad of his finger into the star you carved on the back.

“Is that—” Ahsoka steps forward, and you turn your head to try and face her. She’s tall, determined, and when she squats right down beside you, she’s considerably larger, too. You stammer, realizing how close she is, how she’s a Jedi in front of you, someone who can feel the world in the same way that you can. It’s deafening, the rush of it. “It is. Are you a Rebel?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “I was,” you tell her, truthfully, “most of my life.”

She looks at you with pain in her eyes. It cuts through, sharper and brighter than the rest of her. It’s an odd look against her easy warmth, something deeper and striking than you’ve seen on her so far, but you can feel it. She is, too, even if she isn’t fully part of the Alliance. You have shared grief, and hers goes deeper than yours can even name.

Slowly, she stands back up from where she’s beside you, intense eyes locked back on Din. “You saved him,” she asks, but it doesn’t sound much like a question.

He nods. “Once upon a time,” Din confirms. “Truthfully, though, the kid—and Nova—save me more than I do them.”

Ahsoka turns, looking back at you. Quietly, you push off the ground. You’re clumsy, and there’s an ache in the middle of your thighs from where you and Din fucked on the floor last night, but when you’re finally standing, you nod against Ahsoka’s unasked question.

“I’m Force sensitive,” you whisper. You haven’t really ever said that out loud before, how heavy and residual the fact feels under your tongue. You nervously tuck a fistful of loos hair behind your ear, eyes oscillating between Din and Ahsoka. “I—is that a problem?”

Neither of them answer. You feel stupid. You know it’s a problem, that with the energy radiating through both you and the baby, you’re both vulnerable and very easy targets for a whole lot of evil. You know it lives, seeping and hungry, an insidious itch under your skin. You know how much danger the three of you have been in lately, how it plagues Din, how it keeps him restless.

“It’s going to make you accessible,” Ahsoka says slowly, her eyes flickering over to Din, just for a second, but long enough for you to gauge the meaningful look she gives him. “I could tell that Gideon—and the remnants of the Empire as a whole—want Grogu. They’re after him, and mainly him, so that they can experiment on him and take samples of his blood and cells. He understands that.”

You swallow noisily. In the distance, you can hear the fighting echoing from the neighboring city get louder, and, unconsciously, you take a step closer to Din.

“You,” Ahsoka continues, tilter her head in your direction, “are every bit as much of a target now that Gideon knows you can use the Force. You’re a bigger specimen, larger, complex. I don’t know what he wants with either of you,” she continues, crossing her muscled, slender arms over her chest, “but it can’t be good.”

“We—” you start, choking over your own words, “we know we’re in danger, I know I’m dangerous, because I’m…loud and untrained, and—”

“You aren’t dangerous,” Ahsoka interrupts, striding forward so that she’s closer to you. Maker, she towers over you, strong and lean. “You’re untrained, yes, and you’re very valuable to whatever Gideon’s plan is, but you aren’t a liability.”

The way she says liability, the way it fits in her mouth, immediately makes you look at Din. She’s angry, you understand, she’s angry because she thinks Din has told you you’re a reckless, loose cannon, and that you’re too close to every cliff edge that you’ve pulled the three of you back from, and you shake your head furiously, trying to assure her that isn’t the case.

“She’s strong,” Din says quietly. His voice, modulated and even, sounds distant. Unfamiliar. “Stronger than most.”

Ahsoka tilts her head at Din. “I can see that, just by looking at her. By being in her presence. But I think, somewhere along the way, somewhere between when you found both her and Grogu, and realized what danger they’d be in running from Gideon, you’ve forgotten her strength.”

You swallow again. Noisily. You can feel Din fuming, feel how hot and heavy he is, and you want to step in between the middle of the two of them, mitigate the conversation, try to diffuse any collateral damage. The baby coos next to you, and you lunge forward between the man you love and the Jedi you’ve just met, heart hammering. “This is helping no one—”

“You think I want to shelter her from every threat in this galaxy?” he snarls, and you blink at Din as he moves angrily towards you. “That I want to keep her in the middle of all of this? I don’t. I’d kill Gideon today if I thought it meant Nova and the kid—Grogu—wouldn’t be in danger. I would let her shoot every single bastard in his fleet to their deaths if it meant the two of them could live safely. I’d—I’d leave them on the safest planet of the galaxy and hide myself away for the rest of my life it meant that they could be free from this. I’m doing the best I can, and you have no right—”

“Stop,” you plead, facing towards Din completely, desperately throwing your hands up against the silver, armored chestplates, trying to stop him from advancing on Ahsoka. You can feel her hands against the hilts of her white lightsabers, and the absolute last thing in the world you want is to get a matching scar on the other side of your belly. “I mean it, stop. Fighting over this—over me—isn’t going to stop the problem at hand. You,” you whip around, pointing a raised, shaking finger at Ahsoka, “you’re a Jedi. You—you have the Force, you can teach the baby. Grogu. You can train him, and then he can show me.”

She starts to speak, but you twirl back to face Din. The careful braid you knotted up this morning has become frayed and undone, chunks of hair hanging in your face, brushing against your cheeks in the foggy, green haze. You try to find his eyes under the helmet. “You ever talk about leaving us somewhere ever again, I’ll shake the idea out of your beautiful, thick head myself. There’s no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me. I protect you, you protect me. That’s how this works, remember?”

Slowly, jerkily, he nods.

“Good,” you say, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than you feel, trying to stop your voice from wavering. “Teach him,” you repeat, looking at Ahsoka. All that darkness and flame that lit up her eyes a few minutes ago is gone. There’s a hardened edge there, but it’s not made out of steel. She doesn’t look angry. She looks exhausted, sad. You can see it in her posture as she drops your gaze, stepping closer to Grogu.

Din goes in to stop her, but you shake your head, and he lets his gloved hand drop listlessly down at the side. You’re not sure what she’s doing, and you’re even more confused that it seems like Grogu and Ahsoka have their own frequency, one that you can only catch distant warbles and static off of. Frustrated, you blow hair out of your face, stepping back to observe. Finally, she kneels down to the ground, picks up a pebble. Wordlessly, she shows it to Din, then to you, then to the baby. His big bug eyes are wide, unflinching. You know that he understands what she wants him to do before Ahsoka even says the words. He stares at it, tiny nose scrunching up against the task of trying to move the rock with his mind. For a few tries, it’s impossible, no luck. He’s distracted. Grogu keeps glancing back and forth over the three of you, to get permission that he doesn’t seem to have on his own.

“He doesn’t understand,” Din protests once.

“He does,” you and Ahsoka say in unison. Her tone is heavy. Yours is excited, like you can feel the way your heart is trying to keep in time with the words. And it’s true. The baby doesn’t follow commands well, especially when he’s decided he doesn’t want to, but this is different. You can feel the energy rushing through him, but he keeps breaking concentration to stare up at Din, and the pebble falls quietly against the mossy rock he’s sitting on, tumbling down to the earthen forest floor.

“Why isn’t he doing it?” Din asks, and you can hear how poorly masked the concern in his voice comes out.

“He wants your permission,” Ahsoka answers. Any of the fire that was in her voice earlier is completely gone now, like a flood just went through. She’s still intent, and she still has an edge to her, but it’s colored something more like determination than anger. “He needs it.”

“You can do it, baby,” you whisper, leaning down so that your necklace will swing out from under your covered collarbone again, something to fortify him, keep him balanced.

Your cheeks burn with the realization that Ahsoka was talking about Din’s permission, not yours, but your action seems to relax the baby’s little heart, his expression melting into something slightly softer.

“You can do it,” Din echoes, kneeling down in front of the three of you, a strange triangle made on Corvus’s forest floor. Grogu coos, trying to meet his dad’s eyes under the helmet. “Go on. You’ve got it. Take your time.”

You’re not sure how much time you have, really, because the noises of whatever’s going on in town keep increasing, and with how quickly those men appeared out of the thin, foggy air earlier, you’re on edge knowing that anything else could emerge with little to no warning. Nervously, you scan the treeline as Din continues to coax and encourage the baby, picking up the rock off the ground. You lean up against the tree immediately behind the three of them. Its bark is thick and coarse, and the branches hanging off every side are pointed and sharp, the leaves all budding and a dangerous shade of green. It’s exhausting, keeping an eye out on the potential enemies in the distance and trying not to miss what’s happening with Din and Ahsoka and the baby, if he could move the rock farther than a few inches.

Sleep is still encroaching the borders of your eyes, even though you were out for hours last night. The massiveness of the day is heavy and loud, and right now, it’s demanding all of your attention. You let your back brush up against the cold, course tree, cracking your neck free of all the ache again. When Grogu catches your eye again, you smile at him, nodding encouragingly. He still is having difficulty focusing on the pebble, so you step as far away s you can. You close your eyes, let everything drip down your spine and run out of you. You’re trying to just be, to not let anything heavy and dangerous slip in through the cracks, and it’s harder here. You wonder if it’s because there’s another, powerful Force-sensitive being around, or if it’s just sheer exhaustion doing you in, but one thing’s for certain, and it’s that it’s hard to pull yourself into a space where your mind is weightless. Eventually, though, you can feel it pull out of your head, and that wave of knowledge, serenity, and energy comes and crashes over you. In your head, you’re able to tell the baby to do it, gentle and coaxing, just like he was with you when you floated his ball for the first time. When he looks at you again, you feel something change. Before you even open your eyes, you can feel his gaze shift to Din’s, and your lashes flutter open to reveal Din giving the baby an encouraging nod.

The rock is airborne. It isn’t flickering, and it isn’t even really moving, but it’s enough for all three of you, who gasp and clap, breaking Grogu’s concentration. You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to wrangle everything back in, to restrain yourself so that he can keep moving forward, keep the pebble skyward.

He does. It’s shakily, and somewhat uncontrolled, but you watch as Grogu moves, letting the pebble levitate, then letting it come back and forth between him and Ahsoka. In a few tries, he’s got the rhythm of it, moving intentionally and slowly, letting the rock float through the air as unencumbered and free as his little metal ball does. You try to make yourself stay quiet, but you can’t help it. You clap excitedly as Din falls to his knees to get close to the baby, show him how proud of him his father is. You beam, watching the two of them, everything else rolling off your shoulders. This is the closest you’ve come to feeling free from the evil that lurks in the galaxy’s corners in months. Since you told Din you love him. Since he proposed. Since you’ve been aware just how much Moff Gideon wants to get his scary, manipulative hands on you or the baby to harness your power, leave you breathless, take everything for himself. It’s like there’s a bead of light in the place of where your heart is. It’s momentary, it’s fleeting, but it’s there, really there, at least for a second. Something to fixate on, to haul all three of you out of the darkness. Something to shine in the same way you do.

Ahsoka steps forward, and you catch her eye as she tilt sher head towards Din and the kid. You smile at her, completely, fully. She smiles back, just as easy. You still see that glint in her eye, that exhaustion, the way she stares at the three of you like she’s interrupting, like she’s something knife-shaped cutting through. You nod at her, just once, and you can tell she knows what you mean. There’s no hard feelings. She’s wise, and she’s seen probably three times as much of this fight as you have, and she’s still here, on the periphery, kind and unafraid to cut down things that are making the darkness bigger.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For helping us.”

Ahsoka studies you. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You want to thank her again, but everything your mouth starts tumbling out is stammering and silly. “I—what do you mean?”

“You’re an ex-Rebel engaged to a Mandalorian,” she murmurs, and you blink, trying to figure out how she put that together before you remember that she and the baby had a conversation through the Force earlier, and the little gossip probably told her everything. You smile, tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “You don’t seem like the bounty hunting type.”

You kick a bit of mossy earth with the toe of your boot. “I’m not,” you admit quietly. “I don’t like killing.”

Ahsoka steps closer to you. You gulp, looking up at her. You thought Din was intimidating, that his stature was enough to make anyone not confident enough to look him in the visor run screaming. But as calm as Ahsoka is, how warm her heart beats, she’s just as fierce. A protector. A defender. A fighter. “Is that why you dropped out of the Alliance?”

You nod, slowly. “Sort of. My parents died on a mission, and I never really came back from that. I—I grew up on Yavin,” you continue, fingers absentmindedly finding your necklace. “On base. And it never felt like home after that. By the time they died, we were so close to winning, anyways, and once the Death Star blew, I left. I wanted to help people,” you say, your voice barely catching in the wind, “and I’m an excellent pilot, but I never liked shooting anyone down. Still don’t. I left, met some dangerous people, fell in their path, and barely made it out.” You swallow noisily, realizing how much you’re sharing. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling—”

“No,” Ahsoka encourages, tilting her head at you. Din and the baby are still practicing over with the rock, and he’s gleeful, showing off to his dad. “I’m curious. Please continue.”

“I was just a runner for a while,” you say, leaning back against the bark of the tree. “I moved food and drink and resources in the Outer Rim from one place to another. Before long, though, I started picking up people in bad situations, ones like I was in myself. I didn’t charge them anything, just shuttled them to nearby planets to help keep them safe from whatever they were running from.” You watch as Grogu lifts the rock in the air again, smiling faintly at him in the distance. You feel a lifetime away from the disbelief and betrayal on Din’s face when he saw you doing the same thing, your heart swelling with how he’s watching your kid in all his strange, magical, little, green glory. “I crashed my ship on Nevarro, which is where D—Mando picked me up. He told me he was just going to get me off the planet, that he’d drop me somewhere safer, but then I just ended up sticking around. Then we fell in love instead.” You mouth shapes a smile around the word love. “I know we’re in danger,” you say, urgent and quiet. “I know that we’re both liabilities. And I know we won’t be out of trouble for a long while, at least until we can get the Darksaber back from Gideon at the very least. But I’m not running,” you say, lifting your chin, resolved, into the air. “I’m not running. And I don’t know what kind of time you have, or what you can teach the baby and I,” you continue quietly, looking straight into Ahsoka’s eyes, “but I do know this is the closest I’ve felt to something that feels like winning in a long time.”

She’s quiet. It’s like she’s peering into your soul, spending time dissecting your every bone, every current your blood runs through. It takes everything in you not to waver, not to falter under her gaze, but you hold it. Finally, Ahsoka faces you head on, and she smiles. “You’ve still got something a lot of people in this galaxy don’t, Nova,” she says.

You blink. “What’s that?”

Ahsoka looks at Din and the baby, then back at you. Her gaze over you is still intense, but you can tell it’s because she likes you, because she sees a fierce spirit to you that nothing ever got close to stomping out. She lifts her chin to match yours. “Hope.”

You want to thank her, want to do anything to signify how that fortification alone feels huge enough to make everything in you swell and sing, but you don’t have a chance. An arrow shoots out of nowhere, and Ahsoka’s orange hand lunges forward, lightning quick, to knock you in the middle of your chest right below your collarbone, moving you away from the impact. You fall to the ground, scraping the heel of your hand against the rough bark of the tree root, skittering back out of immediate danger.

As if it were nothing, Din’s got both hands on his blaster and Ahsoka’s unsheathed both of her white blades, and you grab for the baby as they go running in the direction that a cacophony of blasts are heading from, and you duck and cover. It’s not your best move, but it’s the smartest one, at least until you can see where the fight is and be strategic about it. You don’t have the Crest, and you don’t have control, or lightsabers, or a whole artillery strapped to bulletproof armor, but you have your head. You pull your cloak up and around your face, covering the tops of your exposed shoulders and the gathering of hair, and you grab the baby and tuck him under the cloth. It’s not perfect, by any means, but with the atmosphere of Corvus being emerald and foggy, your faded green hood is enough camouflage to sneak closer and closer to the battle. You can’t see Din, and all you have to find Ahsoka is the hum of the blade and the screams of the attackers in the dark and you duck down as low as you can, pulling Grogu off your chest so you can look at him.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” you hiss, over the noise, “do you understand me? I’m just going back there to get my blaster.” You gesture back to where you were leaning against the tree, the weapon that’s supposed to be strapped against your thigh laying on top of the mossy earth. “I will be right back,” you whisper, holding his face between both of your palms, “I promise, Grogu, okay?”

He nods. You nod back. You’re not stealthy, and you’re not particularly fast, but there’s something about this planet, something about all this green and the baby’s energy and the way Ahsoka holds command that makes you feel invincible. You don’t sprint. You don’t try to run, either, because you don’t know how covered you are by the fog that’s drifting closer and closer to you. You don’t have an armada. You don’t have clear access to the ship. But you’re better this way, on the fly, focused by adrenaline instead of your anxiety of what’ll happen next get into your head. You lunge against the mossy ground for your blaster, and when you pick it up, you start running back to where you’ve hidden the baby, stronger with a weapon in your fist. Someone, tall and clad in dark clothes emerges from the fog, and even from a distance, you know that they don’t match either of the people who are defending you and Grogu right now, so you stop to steady your grip against a rock, and you take aim.

The person roars when your bullet ricochets off the boulder they’re kneeling in front of, glaring wildly, trying to find you. You see the baby’s big eyes widen and close back down when he spots you, and you nod the best you can lodged behind a safe hiding place. The person starts roving forward, and you roll your eyes when you see it’s a man stomping around, trying to find where you’ve hidden.

“You’re a shit shot!” he yells, and you can feel the hum of Ahsoka’s sabers. She’s close, you can sense it, and you close your eyes, clicking the safety off the blaster as you stand up enough to take aim again. He’s looking the opposite way, so you spring up, bending your knees slightly, locking your arms and your grip into place. When he turns around again, he’s against the barrel of your blaster, and he gasps as you push the could maw of it against his temple.

“Don’t think I would be now,” you say, in a voice so much more level than how you’re feeling. “Wanna test your theory?”

He shakes his head, you raise an eyebrow. Maker, it’s like he’s actually scared of you. You, Novalise. You, overemotional hopeless romantic that can’t make a shot to save her life. You, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. At that and that alone, you steal a small smile when he closes his eyes.

“Why are you here?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “You’re trying to hurt us, take my son. Why?”

“The magistrate,” he says, lifting both hands sky-high. “She wants the Jedi. The orange woman. With the lightsabers.”

“I know whom she is,” you interrupt, shooting the baby a warning glance to stay where he is, camouflaged against the green, mossy rock. “Why does she want the Jedi?”

He shrugs, and you press the barrel of your gun a little closer into his scalp. He raises his hands even higher, so you let the pressure go, still staring down the gun to act like you’ll drop him at any second, even though you have literally no desire to shoot someone ever again. You step back, not much, but enough to plant your foot in a better spot, and you let him look down the blaster to coax him to answer. “Don’t know. We want her out of here. The magistrate. Their whole group is awful, holding the city of Calodan captive. Figure getting the Jedi out of here might placate her long enough for bargain for our city back.”

“You look pretty capable,” you counter, looking at the gun he’s dropped on the ground, gesturing to the arrows parked in the middle of the trees surrounding you. “Why wouldn’t you just attack them? Form a mutiny?”

He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and you sigh, dropping your grip just a little. It’s too much, though, stupid. The second you aren’t staring him down with the gaping mouth of your blaster anymore, he lunges for you, knocking you and your weapon to the ground. It doesn’t hurt, since the terrain is all grass, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of you, and he’s taken your blaster and kicked it off somewhere you can’t see, making a beeline for the baby.

“Help!” you scream, picking yourself off the ground, running, winded, back to where he’s heading for. You could kick yourself, but you’d probably trip over your own foot, so you keep going. He’s taller than you, and he clearly has more practice at running than you do, so you’re barely gaining speed when he picks up Grogu. He shrieks with being suddenly airborne, and you thunder your feet across the ground as fast as you can. You keep yelling loudly for Din and Ahsoka, because now you’re totally weaponless, and that piece of cowardly shit has your kid, and then you stop short, remembering you may not have a weapon, but you have something.

You clear your mind. Everything rushes backwards out of you. It’s still hard to make everything quiet in the midst of so much danger and noise, but you’re better at it now. Raising both hands, you focus, eyes snapping back open. You move, just slightly, and the man stops midair. He’s still trying to get the baby away, and he’s much stronger than you are, but then Grogu makes eye contact with you, determined and strong, and you nod, somehow knowing exactly what he’s about to do.

The baby bites down on the man’s arm. Hard. A real chomp, one he usually reserves for frogs and the food that’s supposed to be for you and Din. The man howls as he drops to the forest floor, and you lunge for Grogu as his abductor is stopped in his tracks. You give him a good stomp on his left foot, grabbing your blaster off the floor. He looks up at you with wide eyes, and you see how scared he is, so you decide to have a little mercy. “Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you,” you say, firmly, “and focus all your energy on taking back what’s yours instead.” He nods. You flick your finger back to stun and shoot him. It catches him in the belly, so he won’t be out for long, but it’s enough time to swaddle you and Grogu back up in your cloak, make your way through the edges of the fog that’s a lot quieter than it was s minute ago.

Your eyes aren’t the best on a good day, so you’re squinting and making shapes out of nothing. When you collide into Din, he has to clap a gloved hand over your mouth to stifle your shriek. The second he knows you aren’t going to be a red flag in the middle of the darkness, his hands moves off your lips and caresses against your cheek instead. You sag, letting him keep you upwards.

“That was some good fighting, cyar’ika,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart doing cartwheels in your chest.

“I learned form the best,” you manage, trying to wink but accidentally closing both of your eyes. “What’s the plan?”

Quietly, Din pulls the three of you behind another mossy stone. From this vantage point, you can see the mass of soldiers the two of them have taken down. Up on the parapet, there’s a shrouded figure with a thin, sharp metal spear. Your eyes narrow, knowing exactly who’s up there—the magistrate and her evil eye making sure that there’s bloodshed outside the city walls.

“Ahsoka’s clearing the last of them now,” Din whispers, and even modulated and quiet, his voice still sends shivers through you. “You’re going to sneak through the gate of the city with her and the kid.”

You blink at him, doing a double take. “Me?”

Din stares at you through the visor, tilting his head. “You proved yourself, Novalise. I trust you to be quick and quiet enough to sneak through undetected.”

You nod, butterflies soaring to life in the middle of your stomach.

“Besides,” Din adds, clicking the safety off his blaster, the noise muted against the rough fabric of his glove, “there will be three of you. And you all have powers.”

You smile at him. “The Force.”

“Looks like powers,” Din shrugs. Out of nowhere, Ahsoka appears behind you, equally as stealthy and silent as Din is. You smile at her. “Get ready.”

“Wait,” she says, cutting one orange hand through midair. “She’s going to shoot at you.”

Din nods. “The armor can take it.”

Ahsoka looks him up and down, disdainful. “She has a beskar spear.”

Din, who was about to emerge from a crouched position to stand straight up, a shiny force to be reckoned with through all the fog, sinks back down. “What?” The word is low and dangerous in his mouth.

“Listen,” Ahsoka says, urgently. “It’s yours. I have no use for it. You help me defeat her, you get the spear and I’ll…” her gaze lands on you and the baby as she trails off. “I’ll find someone to train both of them.”

“But I thought you—?” you start, but then arrows and blasts are being hurdled through the air again, and Ahsoka pulls you and the baby around to the side, where a cover of trees mixed with the nightfall and the ominous grey still hanging in the air will keep the three of you sheltered enough to make it through the gate undetected. You place your hand over your heart, looking at Din, who nods at you just for a second before he comes out of hiding, guns ablaze, in full Mandalorian mode. As promised, you, Ahsoka, and Grogu are able to make it through the gate without anyone catching sight. The city is small, desolate. It’s quiet, eerily so, and you think that if it weren’t caught between captivity and war, it would be beautiful. All the green from outside has evaporated in here, the streets looking shoddy and destroyed. You follow against the wood of the buildings, keeping only a few paces behind Ahsoka. Her grip on her lightsabers is light but intentional, ready to strike at any minute. The three of you sneak through the majority of the city undetected. When you’ve reached the border of what is clearly the magistrate’s headquarters, she signals for you and the baby to standby. You nod, ducking back against the buildings as she fights her way through the guards. Slowly, silently, she beckons for you to follow her, and you do as quietly as possible, trying not to take stock of the dead bodies on the ground.

It is beautiful in here, just as you predicted. You stay close behind Ahsoka, eyes darting up and around to watch for anyone who might try to hurt you. It’s dark but the greenery is lush and alive, and you run the tips of your fingers over the petals of flowers before you sit in the cloak under a big, sprawling tree, letting the baby out from under your cloak so he can see, too. Eventually, your gaze drifts over to Ahsoka. She’s regal, tall, shoulders set and back. Down the middle of this part of the city is a long slab of granite, dark and glassy. It cuts through a reflecting pool, and your heart lurches as you realize where you are.

In the visions, any that you’ve had that go farther than Ahsoka shrouded here with her sabers, this is where you’re trying desperately to get to Din, to see your panicked face in the beskar. Worriedly, you try to stand, knees wobbling, and when he steps through the doorway, your heart seizes in equal parts relief and terror. Ahsoka stares at him, and you want to start running towards him, shield him with your own body, but you’re frozen in place. Before you can start to shake the fear loose, another figure spears behind Din, pointing the tip of a beskar spear against the unsheathed part of his neck, right where his helmet meets his armor. It’s the only place that’s really left uncovered, just a sliver of skin at the nape of his neck, right before his head meets his spine, but if you know it’s there, it can be fatal. Your stomach is heaving, stormy and dangerous. You want to run to him. You want Ahsoka to use her lightsabers to cut the magistrate down. You want to know enough about the Force to use it, to get the magistrate away from the man you love, but as much as you denied it earlier, you are a loose cannon. You’re good at moving things. You don’t have much practice in saving them.

Ahsoka shoots one glance your way, but you know what it means, even in the dark. Stay put. You shrink back in the shadows the tree gives off, pulling the baby quietly up against your chest. No one knows you’re here except for her, so as long as you don’t give it away, you’ll have the high ground. You watch, heart in shreds, as the magistrate pushes Din forward.

“You have a choice,” she says, voice so smooth, so full of ice, “between the Mandalorian and the freeing of the city. You want Calodan back? I kill him. You want him alive? You leave this planet forever.”

Ahsoka’s eyes narrow. “An ultimatum? Weeks of you trying to kill me, to have your captives hunt me down in exchange for their lives, and all you have for me is an ultimatum?”

“It’s a choice, Jedi,” the magistrate spits. You move forward, enough that you can pull your blaster out of the holster. You aren’t stealthy, but the noise of it is quiet enough to be hidden by their conversation and the proximity to your vantage point. “A compromise.”

“No,” Ahsoka counters levelly, stepping forward with her lightsabers. The hilts are still unsheathed, and you watch carefully for the flick of her thumbs to bring them to life. “A compromise would mean me leaving you alive. I can dangle death, too. You just have to fight me for it first.”

You feel your eyes bulge open in the dark, impressed. She steps forward again, unflinching. She doesn’t even look scared to face the woman that’s holding your fiancé’s life in her hands, and normally, that would both you, but right now? Right now, you’re just marveling. Ahsoka’s a badass.

“Fight me for it, then,” the magistrate seethes, and Ahsoka raises an eyebrow, igniting both blades. You gasp at how they hum and pulse, the white blade both dangerous and serene. When she lunges, the other woman takes the spear off of Din’s pressure point. If you were faster, this is where you would have lunged, but he rolls, sweeping a leg underneath the magistrate’s feet. She avoids them midair, but when he kicks at her coming down, she stumbles. You thumb the safety off, still hiding in the shadows until they need you. For people who just met today, it’s clear that Din and Ahsoka know each other’s rhythms, how they move. It’s like watching a dangerously choreographed dance, all three partners wicked and fast. The other woman is clearly skilled, almost on the level of th both of them, because she’s able to both defend and attack in the same swing. Wordlessly, she swipes through the air. She catches Ahsoka’s skin with the beskar blade, and Ahsoka hisses and kicks just as dangerously, swiping the blade of her own saber over the blood to cauterize it and then swings with it as she yells. You’re in awe of her. Between her blades and Din’s armor, you’re completely mesmerized. There’s not a chance in hell that you would be a match for any of them, so you just watch with the baby safe behind your body. For minutes, it seems, the three of them fight, sharp and quiet. You watch Ahsoka swing the sabers through the air. When the magistrate tries to kick the one out of her left hand, she tosses it overhead to Din, who, amazingly, catches it and swings back in the same momentum she gave him. For a minute, it looks like they have the magistrate cornered, but when she falls to the ground, you’re right in her line of vision.

You panic. You don’t know what to do. Your heart is caught in your chest, and you know she sees you. Din and Ahsoka are so preoccupied with keeping her down that they don’t notice the magistrate’s hungry, dark gaze on you, and you’re frozen. When she gets to her feet again, it’s like she has a whole new wind. She strikes Din down viciously, and you can hear the beskar tearing into his flesh, over a just-healed cut on his leg. He roars as he drops, and you silently make the baby agree to stay hidden. You sprint towards him, throwing all caution and stealth to the wind, just trying desperately to make it there in time to get him off the ground. You scream at the magistrate, a slew of curses in every language you know, sliding across the smooth tile of the ground. Over her head, Ahsoka throws you one of her sabers, still ignited, and somehow, despite all odds, you catch it. It flickers in your hand and you stare down at Din, trying to steel yourself for what you have to do again.

“Now,” he pants through the helmet, “do it, Nova, do it—”

You do. You press the lightsaber down on his cut, just for a second, and he cries out with the cautery, going limp on the floor. You don’t have any time to make sure he’s more okay than that, though, because the magistrate is charging straight after you. Before you can turn, you feel her hurl the spear, the beskar whittling through clean air as it soars towards you, and you catch your terrified expression against Din’s armor before you lift your hand, bracing for the fatality of the impact, knowing that at the very least, you saved the man you love and the kid you share.

But the spear doesn’t come. It doesn’t pierce you straight through. After a minute, you open your eyes, looking around. You, Ahsoka, and the baby all have your hands up in unison, freezing the spear midair. Relieved, you exhale, breath shaky, letting the spear clatter against the pavement. The magistrate makes a desperate attempt to reach for it, but you’re quicker. For once, you’re quicker, and you lunge for the spear, and when you’re back on your feet, exhausted and bloody, you have Ahsoka’s lightsaber in one hand and the beskar spear in the other. She doesn’t move. She looks up at you with filth and anger, and you press the point of the spear to her open neck. She doesn’t recoil.

“Nova,” Ahsoka whispers, over the pulsating thumb of her saber. “It’s not worth it.”

“It is if she’s going to terrorize people again,” you hiss, raising the saber up with conviction. “I could make it quick. Fast. Better than she deserves.”

“You could,” Ahsoka levels. You don’t dare take your eyes off the magistrate, her evil gaze. “Or you could walk away and let me do it.”

“She deserves it,” you spit again, but already, your conviction is fading. You feel the spear being tugged out of your hands, and you whirl around with your arm raised, ready to strike someone down, but it’s just Din, and you sag. You can feel the magistrate ready to lunge, and you aren’t in the place to defend yourself, so you just look up at Din, terrified, making your peace with death for the second time in the matter of a minute. But before you can die, before anything, he’s stabbed the spear unto the shoulder of the magistrate’s right hand, and she drops, writhing against the ground, screaming bloody murder.

“She deserves to fall from grace,” Din grunts, “with no iron fist to cling to or come back with.”

Silently, Ahsoka reaches down to cauterize it. You look away, sheathing her lightsaber and tossing it back. Wordlessly, exhausted, you stumble over to Grogu and shoulder him against your chest. The four of you make your way over the magistrate, who’s knocked out on the ground, and go through the gates. A small gathering of citizens are there to greet you, terrified and just as tired as you feel.

“She won’t be in charge anymore,” Ahsoka says softly, voice firm. “I’ll stick around for long enough to make sure of that, and then you can restore Calodan to its former glory without any oppressive regime.”

“Thank you,” one woman manages, and you can see the tear sin your eyes. Ahsoka smiles, nods, beckons you to follow her. Slowly, you tread back to the Crest, everything in your bones weak and sleepy. You want to fall asleep in the shower. You want to fall asleep with your head on Din’s lap. You’d fall asleep on the ladder if it meant you could spend ten hours without being awake anymore. When the gangplank gets lowered, you don’t have the energy to even make it up the few steps to your bed on the floor. You just drop right there, holding onto the baby.

“Are you coming?” Din asks Ahsoka, and you look up to find her gaze, calm and kind, on you.

“No,” she says, decidedly, eyes still on you and Grogu. “I can’t train them. They both have emotional attachments to you, and to each other. I’m not going to be the one to stop that.”

Din starts at her, but you raise a tired hand. “Are there any Jedi left who will train us?”

Ahsoka’s gaze is so full of intention you don’t have the energy to decode. “Yes,” she answers, finally. Go to the planet Tython. It’s strong in the Force. Call out to other Jedi, and anyone who hears it will come for you.”

“Thank you,” you say. You’re so tired, you could fall asleep on the spot. You want to thank her for everything, but you can barely keep your eyes open, and hope your two words convey enough gratitude for Ahsoka to feel it radiating.

Ahsoka steps closer to Din. “Gideon is coming,” she whispers, lowly. “I know he gave you an ultimatum. I know he’s going to try and take them, btu I also know he’s ruthless enough to discard one of them to keep you distracted and to cut you down.”

If you were more awake, you’d be concerned, but you listen to Din’s intentional, determined voice, and something about his tone makes you think that he’s telling Ahsoka the same promise he’s always made you—he’ll protect you, Gideon won’t touch you, that nothing evil and Imperial can cut through him. She nods, kneeling to brush a light hand over your messy hand and boop the baby’s tiny nose, and then you’re being carried up the ladder. Eventually, you feel the ship take off, and Din comes back to sit against your wall with you, bacta patches in one hand and his helmet in the other.

You mewl at him, reaching to touch his beautiful face, to tangle your fingers hungrily through his messy hair. He lets you get as close as you want, and after you pull off his pants, with the intention of dragging the both of you to lay in the shower together, he pushes one of the bacta patches into your hand. Wincing, you see how deep and nasty the cut was, and how messily you cauterized it. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice uneven, and he waves a hand at you, just wanting you to fix the patch over the whole thing to try and let the bacta work its magic. You do, and you slump against Din’s chest, half-naked and exhausted. Eventually, you feel him move out from under you, arms strong and secure around your waist, and you let Din carry you up and into the fresher. You’re on the floor while he turns on the hot water, and the second that you can touch the warmth of it you stand up, letting the pressure rinse over your face, your aching muscles, stripping away as much pain and exhaustion as it possibly can.

When Din comes in behind you, you just turn around to look at him. His own eyes are tired, his beautiful hair getting wetter as you pull him into the stream, dragging the pads of your fingers over his shoulders. He sighs against your touch, pressing his own hands into the small of your back, trying to release the pressure. You’re not sure when he gets hard, when you feel him inside you, but it’s desperate and needy, and he’s leaving an artillery of kisses down your neck. His mouth sucks on and off you, marking your skin. Din’s hands, large and tan, grip either side of your hips to hoist you up, to rock every inch deep inside you. Before tonight, sex always felt like a gratitude, a reprieve. Even the hot and heavy times in the last few weeks have felt more like a thank you, like it’s something both of you want and give each other. Tonight, with the way Din’s burying himself in you, it feels like it’s the last time. The gravity of it, the sharpness, it all feels too heavy.

“My sweet thing,” he moans into your mouth, ricocheting off the walls and up into your ear. “I need you, n—need you to—my sweet thing. He hasn’t called you that in months, not since before Dagobah, and you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re even crying, but with how desperate he is, with how he’s groveling, begging you to let him fuck you, it makes everything in you feel like it’s going over a cliff.

“You have me,” you murmur, punctuated by his thrusts, but it sounds like a reminder and not like an encouragement. When he’s ready, he looks at you through the water and steam, and you nod, afraid to speak in case your voice comes out hollow and fucked. Din thrusts down as he fucks into you one last time, gasping with the intensity of his orgasm, and when he lets you down he takes the showerhead and rinses between your legs, dragging the soap that smells like him over your skin.

You’re both so exhausted that you don’t even bother redressing when you get out of the shower. You just stumble, a two-headed animal, to the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, and when Din brings you close against your chest, there’s something still so raw and hungry inside both of you. You can feel it, the despair, the dread, the sucking feeling of something being wrong in the air. But you’re too exhausted to talk about it.

“I’m here,” you repeat into the darkness, heart hammering in your ears.

“I know,” Din allows, but he sounds so faraway, so distant. If you weren’t this tired, you would cry, you would beg him to tell you what’s wrong, what he’s hiding from you, but all you can do is push your nose in the crook of his neck to fall asleep, hoping all that darkness will have been turned over by the time you both wake up.

It feels like minutes when you do, but you know it’s been over a day. You feel the Crest hurtle out of hyperspace, and you drag yourself to the fresher to rinse your sleep-filled mouth out with water. By the time you redress and make your way up the steps, you’ve already landed. It’s just about dawn, as far as you can tell, and your eyes are still full of exhaustion from the day before. You sit down next to the baby, and when he reaches for your necklace, in your stupor, you unhook it from your neck and give it to him to hold on to until you make your way out onto Tython’s surface. Din’s suiting up, grabbing everything and sticking it back into place, and you let your hair loose, swinging around your face as you crack your neck to relieve the pressure. You’re still half asleep as you follow Din down the ladder. His helmet isn’t on yet, and you reach up for a sleepy kiss. He returns it, mouth full of desperation and urgency and everything he was made out of last night.

In retrospect, that right there should have been the first sign. Maybe not the first indication that something was seriously wrong, but the way he touched you, the way he drank your face in, the way he fucked you in the shower. Like it was the last time. You follow Din down the gangplank, the same way you’d follow him down the aisle, or follow him into battle. Determined, protected, lovingly. But when your boots make contact with the ground, you realize that you aren’t on Tython. It should have been obvious. And if you hadn’t exerted every ounce of energy in your body the day before, protecting yourself and your family from someone trying to eviscerate you, you would have known exactly where you were.

Your eyes widen around the familiar greenery of Dantooine. You’re on the other side of the planet than you were the last time you were here, where Din killed Merle and ignored everything in him to kiss you anyways. Your heart is hammering as you look around, eyes darting back and forth from Din and the Crest, where the baby is hovering in his cradle. The tears come before the knowledge of what’s happening does.

“Wait,” you manage, your voice shattered. “W—what are we doing on Dantooine?”

You’re right on the forest’s edge. You can see the city through the foliage, just a few klicks away. You look wildly back at Din, trying to scry the look on his face past his helmet. Your heart is a staccato in your chest, everything in you screaming that this is wrong, that you’re misinterpreting the situation, that this is a dream/

“Nova,” Din starts, and you shake your head at him, violently. “Novalise, listen to me.” When he grabs for your face, you sob, loud and unashamed. “Gideon is going to keep coming.”

“I—know,” you say, thrashing against his grip. “I know that, Din, I know—did you see what I did back there on Corvus? I can help! I can s—stop him, I can protect us—”

“No,” he says gently, “no, Nova, you can’t. Because if you’re with me, you’re the one he’s going to kill. He’s not going to capture you. He’s not going to keep you alive for long enough to fight back. He’s going to use you to break me, to get the kid.”

“No,” you cry again, but this time you go limp. You’re crying now, for real. The planet is crushing you. Or maybe the air. Or maybe it’s just your own broken heart, suffocating itself against your ribs.

“Nova,” Din whispers again, “Nova, you have to hide. You have to stay out of reach of Gideon, which means you have to stay out of reach of me. Hey. Hey. Listen to me.” You try to find your center of gravity, but you can’t. You tumble to the ground, tears hurtling down your cheeks. Din follows you, clinging to you all the way down. “You just need to stay away long enough for me to defeat Gideon, kill him, and get the Darksaber back to Bo-Katan. Once he’s dead, once this is over, I’ll come back for you. Do you understand me?”

You’re not coherent. You want to scream, you want to barter, you want to plead. You want to do so much, but all you’re capable of is sitting there and crying, breaths long and dragging, the air barely getting in your lungs. “Please don’t leave me,” you sob, finally, and Din deflates too.

“Nova, I’m supposed to protect you,” he says quietly. “This is for your own good. It’s selfish of me to keep you close when I’m the one putting you in danger. You—” he stops, sighing. The baby is crying now, too. Your heart keeps breaking in your chest. Every time you realize what’s happening, it shatters again and again. “I’m going to kill Gideon. I’m going to protect you.” You’re still a mess on the ground. Din drags something over to you, and you realize it’s your bag, stuffed with food and bacta and credits. You just cry, trying to scream, but it’s like all the noise has drained out of you. “I’ll come back for you,” Din repeats, and then he’s gone. The ship is boarded and in the air before you can move, and you finally, finally scream, but it’s drowned out by the thrusters. You sob, loud and horrible, like a wounded animal, as the dust settles around you. You reach for your necklace only to realize it’s still in the baby’s fist. Every shred of proof of the people you loved is gone, off in the stardust somewhere while you’re stuck here, grounded and drowning, heart broken in your chest, crying out for all four members of your family lost out there in the crush of space.

as always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!!

I AM SO SORRY AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! i love you all and i'm so grateful to have you here with me. i am literally breaking my own heart writing this, but now i can finally tell you all that THIS is the foreshadowed brokenhearted moment that we have been building to. yes i have already written both their reunion scene and makeup scene. the pain will not last longer than absolutely necessary!!!!!

CHAPTER 23 SHOULD BE UP NEXT SATURDAY, MAY 29TH AT 7:30PM EST!! i am unfortunately having another big slew of health issues, and after my doctors' appointment next week, i will at best have invasive testing ahead of me and at worst need surgery. i will not know until Wednesday, so please just be patient with me as i figure out when i can write!!! as always, i'll update you on tiktok (padmeamydala) and here as i get news!!!

thank you all so much again, not only for understanding my erratic, hectic posting these last few weeks, but for being here and caring about me and my health and wellbeing just as much as you care about Something More! graduation went so well, thank you all so much for all your well wishes!!! i promise we will be back to our regularly scheduled programming SOON!!!

xoxo, amelie

#something more #something more update #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin xyou #din djarin x original character #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original female character #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x fem!reader #mando x oc #mando x original character #dinova

85 notes · View notes

saberdeity · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞 ⇾ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

pairings ⇾ bucky barnes x genderneutral reader

summary ⇾ takes place during infinity war, reader has powers but doesn't understand the full extent, they stay in Wakanda with Bucky where a relationship blossoms

warnings ⇾ mentions of violence, battles, SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR.

a/n ⇾ this is the first part of a 2 part series! Thank you for requesting the idea anon and I really hope you don’t mind that I’ve written this in two parts! I really hope you like it 💗

*not my gif, full credit goes to the owner*

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanos, the name everyone dreaded to hear after the pain and sadness he caused when wiping out half the universe. He craved destruction, he thought genocide was a small price to pay for civilisation. He thought he was the world’s saviour, the titan who could restore peace and harmony to the universe but in reality he was doing the exact opposite. Instead he caused pain and suffering, making things worse than they already were.

Being a part of the Avengers wasn’t so easy, especially when they decided to have one of the biggest fights where you were forced to choose between your two best friends.

You fought with Steve, no matter what happened you knew Bucky didn’t do what the media were saying he did, Steve was sure of it. You fought with him, becoming a fugitive and using every power you could to help him. That’s how you met Bucky.

After the events of the Sokovia Accords and the fight between Tony and Steve, you were a fugitive, you couldn’t return home nor could you stay anywhere else so you went with Steve and Bucky to Wakanda.

Wakanda was beautiful. The city was beaming with sound and colour, the people happy and friendly around you. King Tchala was more than welcoming, he quickly became a friend even though he fought against you. He knew he needed to make up for the mistake he made, blaming Bucky for his father’s death and he offered him every ounce of help he could which all of you were grateful for.

Soon, Steve left and it was just you and Bucky, well just you for a while. Bucky went back into Cryofreeze, he couldn’t trust his own mind, he thought it would be safer for him and everyone else until Shuri found a way to either calm the triggers of Hydra or take them away completely. It was pretty lonely for a while but you became pretty close with Shuri, helping her in any way possible to figure out how to get the trigger words out of Bucky’s tormented mind.

When Bucky came out of Cryo things were still pretty hard for him but you were there every step of the way to help him through it. You were there for every nightmare, every bad day, every good day and to keep him company. You’d always had a connection with Bucky, you’d always gotten on like a house on fire and throughout this time it only strengthened the connection between the two of you. When he first asked you out you were shocked but you struggled to hide the excitement you felt when he did. He took you on a few dates, Tchala helped him to organise little dinners and long walks around the most beautiful parts of Wakanda: things were amazing. Bucky asked you to be his girlfriend and there was no way on any universe you were going to say no, you were falling head over heels for him and there was nothing that could stop you.

Bucky was doing good, he spent most days with you in the little mud hut in a little place not fair from the main city within Wakanda and it was beautiful. You spent every day helping him with memories and chores around the place, making sure the goats were fed and things were tidy. It was peaceful and calm, the perfect place to be.

You and Bucky both knew something bad was coming when Tchala came down to the hut himself with a shiny, new, powerful arm for Bucky. You both got ready for the battle ahead, Tchala explained the situation, how Thanos wanted to destroy half the universe after he could his hands on all six infinity stones. Your job was to not let that happen.

You hoped to Steve again in better circumstances so Bucky could tell him how far he’s come and the progress that he’s fought so hard to make but there wasn’t anytime. Thanos’ armies were on their way and approaching fast. The lead up to battle was always the worst, Shuri was sure she could take the stone out of vision without killing him but she was going to need a lot of time and we didn’t know how much time we could give her.

When you stood next to Bucky looking out at the unsettling amount of battleships and armies ready to plague the lands of Wakanda with blood and death; you couldn’t help but let the anxiety rise within you. Your heart began to race and your palms began to sweat at the thought of death. You weren’t afraid to die personally but all your friends, the love of your life and the people you trust the most were going into this battle which created the fear of experiencing loss and grief. You turned to Bucky, studying his features for a little while, the way his hair fell just above his shoulders, how his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked straight ahead and the way his eyes sparkled a bright blue against the gazing sun. You took everything in and did your best to burn it into your memory so that you wouldn’t ever forget him if either you died or if the worse happened to him.

“Be careful” He whispered to you, only just about loud enough for you to hear as you turned your head to smile at him.

“You too baby” You smile in return, quickly both of your focusses shifting back onto the fight ahead.

Everyone prepared for battle, our faces coldy staring at the killing machines being held back by the bright blue ray shield surrounding the whole country whilst we assumed our positions ready to face the armies of Thanos. When Tchala gave the instruction to open the shield on his command you pushed any anxieties or bad thoughts to the back of your mind, summoning your powers as everyone began running towards where the opening of the shield will be.

You ran as fast as your legs would take you easily sprinting past the warriors of wakanda as Tchala instructed the commanders to open the section 17 of the ray shield. The monsters came flooding in, Steve and Tchala jumping quite literally into battle as you landed the first blow to your target, pulling the animal apart with your powers before moving onto the next. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you were largely outnumbered, the animals bred for a single purpose outnumbering you by the thousands. The monsters came flying at you multiple at a time as you did your best to fight them off using a mixture of your powers and hand to hand combat Bucky and Steve had taught you.

The monsters numbers only kept increasing, it seemed like you took one down another three followed, You did everything you could but it was starting to become a little overwhelming, not only just for you but for everyone else on the battlefield also. There were simply too many enemies replacing the ones already taken down.

“We can’t hold them much longer” You said over COMS before being taken down by a group of them. You kicked, punched, slashed and used your powers to push them off you but more joined and it was no use. Until, an axe came flying through the air, lightning currents following in pursuit of it as the enemies were killed and no longer surrounded you. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, letting out a stiffened groan as you looked to the rainbow bifrost burning a hole into the surface soon revealing a new, handsome looking Thor with what looked like a raccoon on his back and a tree stood just beside him. You smiled widely, reinforcements had arrived and things were looking up.

“You guys are so screwed now!” Banner shouted excitedly from the hulk buster suit. You chuckled to yourself briefly distracted from the fight but a cry from one of the monsters hurtling towards you brought you back into reality.

You returned to fighting doing everything you could to take down as many as the blood hungry animals that came to you. It was exhausting, battle always was. You occasionally looked over Bucky’s way making sure he was okay, little did you know he was doing the same thing for you.

You scanned the battle field looking for anyone who could potentially need your help whilst continuing to fight off the ones you could. You spotted Nat and Okeye entering the path of a Thresher. You panicked beginning to run in their direction to stop the Thresher from shredding them when Wanda flew down from the tower, landing directly in front of them, eyes glowing a bright red as the red strings of power flow from her hands to stop the machine dead in its tracks; destroying it in the process.

“Why was she up there all this time?” Okoye asks as you chuckle softly almost instantly being attacked again.

You moved on, now fighting side by side with Bucky and taking down all the enemies that threatened to get near him. Vision was now unguarded and shuri was exposed meaning that there was no line of defence left for the stone.

“Guys we’ve got a vision situation here” Sam says throw COMS doing his best to get to vision but the enemies were still flowing through the hole in the protective shield.

“Somebody get to vision!” Steve shouts tirelessly through COMS.

You sprint through the battlefield, punching, kicking and taking everything down in your way preventing you from getting to vision and to the stone. Bruce had already gotten there in the hopes to stop the enemy and you only could run as fast as your legs would take you.

Bruce had been side tracked meaning Vision was still alone with Corvus Glaive, vision was weak from the interfacing Shuri had been attempting leaving him even more vulnerable. You arrived with Vision, tackling Corvus to the ground and throwing him away from the both of you as you stood back up.

“Get outta here” You say waving your hand for him to go before Corvus begins to attack you. You blocked his staff with your arms, using all the strength you had to push back, you land a few good blows, earning him a large cut to his cheek. Steve joins as you both begin to fight him, using the gaps in one anothers fight patterns to defend yourselves. You were thrown against a tree, groaning in pain when the hard, rough exterior of the tree scraped down your back, winding you as Steve struggled also. He did all he could but it wasn’t going to be enough, you tried our best to push yourself up in time but Vision had beaten you to the saviour role, pushing his own blade through Corvus’ chest killing him instantly. You let out a sigh of relief, finally managing to push yourself up as you walked over to the two of them.

“I thought she told you to go” Steve says, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

“We don’t trade lives Captain” Vision replies looking between the two of you as you nodded slightly.

Shortly after the others joined you. Bucky instantly made his way over to you to check you over, making sure you were okay. You reassured him you were fine, smiling softly to him.

“He’s here” Vision announces as your heart drops and anxiety increases.

“Everyone on my position, we have incoming.” Steve states through COMS.

A dust like cloud filled with blue, black and purple colours appears just above the ground before Thanos steps through.

“Cap that’s him” Bruce confirms

“Eyes up, stay sharp.” Steve says, getting ready with his shield to fight even with the little odds stacked against us.

Bruce reached Thanos first, jumping at him but Thanos uses the space stone to his advantage forcing Bruce to be submerged in the stone wall of the cliff behind him. Before Steve can even reach Thanos he is thrown aside with ease. Tchala is next, he leaps into the air high with his claws extended ready to land a blow but Thanos catches him by his throat, punching him into the ground violently. Sam also tries but once again Thanos uses another stone to stop him from coming anywhere near him to injure him, sending him pummeling to the ground.

Vision and Wanda needed time to destroy the stone, you were planning on doing everything you could to buy them some time. You lunged at Thanos, landing a few blows to chest and face as you slipped through his legs, attacking his back at the point with knives that did very little but it was giving Wanda enough time to destroy the stone. You went to jump at him again, unfortunately you were caught within range of a stone meaning you were flung away from him and to the ground.

Rhodey began open firing at Thanos but it was of no use, the iron suit crushed around as he hit the ground with a harsh thud. Bucky then tries his luck, firing his gun at every possible spot but was flung away but yet another stone. Okoye and Nat try also but both were sent flying away from him. Vines of bark wrap around his purple limbs holding him down for a few seconds before the vines from Groot are crushed and Thanos is once again free.

Wanda had almost finished destroying the stone, the hurt in her cries evident as she continues to destroy the one she loves. Thanos was dangerously close to her, she used every ounce of power to hold him back and continue to destroy the stone. The yellow stone in Vision's mind begins to crack. Visions face overcome with an expression of peace as the yellow crystal fragments completely. A pulse of yellow energy explodes from him, shuddering the trees around you for many meters.

“I understand my child, better than anyone” Thanos speaks to Wanda

“You could never” Wanda snarls.

“Today I lost more than you can know. But now is no time to mourn. Now is not time at all” Thanos says reaching forward, he clenches the gauntlet, using the emerald green time stone. The yellow energy starts to appear in reverse, time reversing as an alive Vision comes back.

“No!” Wanda shouts as she lunges for Vision but is thrown away with no effort at all.

Thanos lifts Vision by his throat, no remorse or guilt plastered on his face and he digs the fingers of his right hand around the stone, digging the stone from his head. The stone is released from Visions mind, his body goes limp and colourless. Thanos tosses him aside like he was a piece of litter. He raises his gauntlet placing the stone in the last empty spot. The surge of energy is extremely powerful, his torso is wreathed with iridescent static as a cry leaves his throat trying to contain the power he was given.

Thanos drops to one knee trying to maintain control of the power of the infinity stones when Thor lands in front of him burying his ake deep into his chest.

“I told you, You’d die for that” Thor snarls, nothing but anger and hate laced through his voice.

Thor takes hold of Thanos’ head, burying stormbreaker even further into his chest, staring angrily into his eyes as Thanos lets out a cry of pain.

“You should have.. You…. You should have gone for the head” Thanos says, suddenly regaining strength as he raises the gauntlet once, this time snapping his fingers.

“NO!” Thor shouts in despair.

“What’d you do? WHAT”D YOU DO?” Thor says angrily to Thanos. He merely takes no notice of him, as he uses the Space Stone, teleporting away, leaving the stormbreaker behind on the dusty wakandan ground.

“Where’d he go? Thor… where’d he go” Stve says, trembling slightly as he clings to his left side.

“Y/n? Steve?” Your head snaps towards Bucky, his voice full of confusion and panic as he stumbles over, dropping his gun. He turns to dust, his body no longer there leaving nothing but a pile of ash on the floor. You run over, collapsing onto the floor taking a pile of the ash into your hand as it begins to evaporate disbelievingly.

“No, this cannot be happening, he can’t be gone.. Please no come back Bucky please” You whisper searching through the ash for something, hope maybe but there was none to be found. He was gone.

Many others around you begin to fall to dust, disappearing into the abyss as you all watch in disbelief. Steve, Thor, Rhodey, Nat, Bruce, Rocket and you were the only ones left standing. Steve moves to Visions, lifeless body collapsing next to him. You stayed where Bucky once was, your heart aching in your chest as tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe nor did you want to believe he was gone.

“What is this? What the hell is happening?” Rhodey asks just as confused as everyone else.

“Oh god!” Was all Steve managed to say as he breathlessly sat with his hand on Vision's corpse.

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

Taglist:

@devilsbaby-doll

@katexrichardson

@babymango-writes

#bucky barnes #the avengers #marvel #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x reader #infinity war

13 notes · View notes

wandasimpathizer · 4 years

Text

I’ve talked about this quite a bit with some of my friends and various family members who probably looked like I was crazy. *Following gifs are not mine*

No one, and I mean no one deserves Wanda Maximoff. For four movies we see her struggle and fight with everything she has to make a place for herself, to achieve and gain something that has eluded her for years: peace. She and her brother volunteer for Strucker’s experiments, and maybe they do it for revenge on any and all people that hurt them, but (and no one can fight me on this) their endgame, their deep-under-the-surface reason is for peace. They’re not after world piece or maybe not even peace within Sokovia, but peace within themselves. Where they don’t have fight like hell every day just to barely survive and have to do it all over again the next day.

Her powers are unparalleled. No one has powers like hers, especially to her knowledge, and she has to learn to control them all on her own, with her only source of “encouragement” being HYDRA and Strucker. She is trained and raised to be a weapon without anyone telling her that that’s wrong, and I speculate that she doesn’t even know it. When the Avengers show up and attack the base, she’s fueled not only for her hatred for them (primarily because of Tony) but also because of whatever anti-Avengers propaganda was most likely drilled into her head by Strucker and other HYDRA operatives.

She and her brother side with Ultron because he promises them the peace that they seek. He assures them that he’s meant to save humanity and the world by getting rid of terrorists, like the Avengers. Wanda’s skeptical (of course she is, she’s heard that promise before) and not being able to see into Ultron’s head doesn’t help, but she forces down her worries, maybe even her fears, because this is what she wants more than anything. It won’t fix what happened, it won’t bring back her parents, but she won’t have to lose anyone else.

Or so she thinks.

Wanda is not evil. She was a misguided, angry little girl in pain. She lost her parents at the tender age of ten to a bomb manufactured under the name of a man who flies around trying to help people and save the world. Imagine the hypocrisy of that. Ultron destroys her home and kills her brother, her protector, her friend, the only blood family she has left on this earth, and once again she loses everything she loves to the hands of Tony Stark.

She’s only a secondary character, so we barely see into the inner workings of her mind, but--and this is just my speculation--it seems to me, that is nearly impossible for Wanda to walk away from the events at the end of Age of Ultron with no mental issues whatsoever. I speculate that at the very least she has depression (from the loss of her brother, but also the loss of her parents) and maybe PTSD (again, from the bomb that killed her parents, and the fight in Sokovia against Ultron). Since we don’t see her get help (if she does) or deal with any mental disorders (including anyone, except for Tony’s disorders are addressed), it’s hard to say exactly what she has, if anything, and how she’s doing. The most I can do is assume that all and all, she’s not doing great, or at least not as great as she looks.

In Civil War, Wanda looks fine. She’s learning how to be an Avenger, learning from Steve and Natasha, she looks like she’s gaining some confidence, which is a big step considering that she seemed to lose some during the fight with Ultron probably a year prior. We don’t know if she’s been on any missions before Lagos, but given that Steve and Natasha keep drilling her on what to look out for and testing her, she probably hasn’t been on many.

Then Rumlow’s bomb goes off and Steve is stuck in the blast zone, surrounded by a crowd of people. Wanda acts on instinct, doing what she was taught to do, which is to protect civilians at all cost (that’s their job, right?), and she lifts the bomb (and Rumlow) with her powers away from the civilians. It’s easy to see how difficult it is for her to try to contain the blast, doing so is probably painful for her, and she accidentally slips, and the bomb goes off in a building killing eleven people.

Now, while eleven people killed is a lot, it’s not as bad as a whole marketplace full of them. She feels like she did bad, that she’s a murderer, and while she was responsible for those eleven people killed, Wanda saved more people than she killed, her friend and teammate included. The confidence she was starting to gain? Once again, she’s lost it. Her name is plastered on every news station, some people calling her a monster, some calling her a terrorist, some are calling her arrest, and she’s agreeing with each and every one of them. She has lost all faith in herself and her abilities and the only person to make her feel better is Steve, who tells her that it’s okay to make mistakes that it’s impossible to save everyone.

He doesn’t let her beat herself up about this because Steve fought in a war--WWII. He’s speaking from personal experience, from the point of view of a soldier. Steve would love to be able to save everyone, but it’s not practical. He wanted to save Bucky on the train, but if he had, his whole team could’ve been put at risk, not to mention so many other innocent people that would’ve been affected had they not done their job. To save millions of people, he sacrificed himself and crashed that plane into the ice. Steve knows what she’s going through and he sympathizes with her, and she maybe is even starting to feel better. Until Secretary Ross shows up with the Accord.

The Accords that seem to primarily be targeted at someone like her, an enhanced individual. Ross--without tact or sympathy--addresses Wanda’s failings and nightmares, showing video footage of both Sokovia and Lagos, and then stands in front of her, comparing--mostly Bruce Thor--powered people to “a couple of 30 megaton nukes” (even Tony compares her to something dangerous, rather than a person, calling her “a weapon of mass destruction”.) She’s faced with an impossible decision: either sign away her rights or retire. She doesn’t know what will happen to her if she retires. She’s scared and she’s hurting, and the arguing between her friends, her family, is damaging her already damaged mental health.

She looks up at them and says “You’re saying they’ll come for me.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. She already knows how she’s looked at in the eyes of this country. Vision promises that they’d protect her, but can he really promise that? I don’t think she believes that. She’s conflicted and sad, and doesn’t put up much of a fight when Tony puts her on house arrest (without her knowledge). When Vision explains that she can’t leave the compound because of other people’s safety instead of her own, she doesn’t fight him. She just looks defeated, and she remains so until Clint comes to get her out.

At first she turns away from him and hides herself. She listening to what they’re saying about her on the news, what maybe some of her teammates are saying and reflects it back at Clint saying “I’ve caused enough problems.” She looks at herself and sees a troublemaker, a nuisance, a terrorist, rather than a kid trying her best to be and do good. And Clint--loveable, papa Clint--refuses to listen to her self-deprecating sorry attempt at a refusal. He sees her for who she is, and makes her see it too, albeit kind of harshly, and reignites some of her lost confidence.

For the first time in a while she stands up for herself, pushing Vision into the floor gritting out perhaps one of the greatest lines of dialogue to come out of these movies, “I can’t control their fear, only my own.” Wanda stops being afraid of herself and chooses to fight for her rights and herself with Steve in Germany. Even when it’s incredibly clear that she will be reprimanded harshly for what she chose to partake in, she doesn’t care.

In return, she is treated inhumanely. She is targeted by Ross and those in the Raft, fitted with a straight jacket and shock collar. She is seen and treated as a monster, and when the shot cuts to her and once more she looks defeated. In fact, she looks hollow. Like a shell and she’s not even there. She’s alone and her worst fears have been realized.

We don’t see what her life is like after she’s rescued by Steve until Infinity War. She is in Edinburgh with Vision, and for the first time ever, we see her happy. Genuinely happy. She’s smiling, she’s without a care in the world, and she’s allowing herself to be happy with Vision. Until the Black Order show up. Vision is injured, we see her stand to fight them, placing herself between Vision and Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive.

Arriving at the compound and meeting up with Rhodey and Bruce, they all learn of Thanos and his quest for the stones, suddenly, just like the rest of her life, she’s forced to lose something she loves. Choosing not to sacrifice Vision may be selfish, but she’s allowed to be selfish. Vision is all she has left in this world that loves her for who she is. He isn’t afraid of her or her powers, and sees the beauty in it. Vision has always seen the good in her and he’s the one thing that makes her happy, so she holds on to him for as long as she can.

They look for another way, head to Wakanda and try to take the stone out before destroying it. The battle breaks out and she’s kept away from it, protecting Vision and keeping ready to destroy the stone the second it’s out. She’s something we haven’t really seen and it’s determined. When she enters the battle, defending Natasha and Okoye, she’s sure of herself and her abilities, and doesn’t falter. She’s not timid and scared like in Civil War.

But all that comes crashing down again once Thanos arrives and she’s forced to do the one thing that will destroy her. She doesn’t want to, she keeps refusing him, but there’s no time and no more options. Looking at Vision, with tears rolling down her cheeks and her bottom lip trembling, she turns her powers onto Vision.

The powers that took so long for her to love. The powers that made her do horrible things. The powers that made everyone including herself see her as a monster. The powers born from hate, that seem to destroy more than build. The powers that only one person saw beauty in, were now being used to kill the last bit of love in her life.

And when it’s done, when she’s destroyed the stone, when she’s doubled over in grief and hatred for herself, she is forced to witness the love of her life come back to her, only to be killed again in front of her, his lifeless gray body thrown to the ground like he was nothing.

She doesn’t fight anymore. Everything was drained out of her, and when Thanos snaps, and she starts turning to dust, when everyone around is looking in confusion, fear, or pain, she looks up from Vision’s body with relief.

When her death comes, she’s grateful because anything, even death, is better than being alone. She’ll be reunited with her family, her parents, her brother, and she won’t have to be alone anymore.

Now Endgame, I think we can agree, was a huge mess. But when Bruce brings everyone back, and they all come through the portals, ready to take on Thanos, I think that scene was just *chef kiss*

Wanda’s coming back from the snap with the events of Infinity War still feeling pretty fresh. It didn’t feel like five years to her, and in fact, to her, it probably feels as though she lost Vision only hours ago. So when she faces off 2014 Thanos, she’s angry.

Not only is she feeling the loss of Vision, but she also comes to learn that she lost Natasha as well. Natasha, a person who probably meant a great deal to her, maybe a considered part of her family, someone who always tried to protect her and taught her how to survive in this world. She’s gone, having sacrificed herself to bring Wanda (and the rest of the fallen) back, and Wanda never got to say goodbye. Then, in an act that completely went against his entire character, Steve disappears into the past when returning the stones to live his life with Peggy, and she loses Steve as well, someone who always believed in her and believed the best in her from the beginning, even in Ultron. They leave her to deal with her grief ALONE.

And now I come to WandaVision, her show premiering on Disney+ at some point. And while I can’t say for certain how it will end up, going based on how Marvel has treated this particular character and with how the premise of the show looks, I can only guess that whatever is left of Wanda’s crumbled and incredibly damaged mental health is going to be blown to smithereens, sending her into a downward spiral of madness.

I (and many others, too many to name and give credit to, but I’m giving it) speculate that in the show, Wanda creates her own happiness, giving her the life she wants and wishes she had with Vision (marriage, kids, etc.) and eventually loses touch with reality, thus, it's them fucking with her already damaged and shitty mental state even more when something snaps her back to reality. Again, can’t say for sure that that’s what will happen, but one can guess. I sincerely hope that Wanda’s mental health will stop getting kicked around like a hacky sack, but I really doubt that she’ll be shown mercy. Since her first moment on screen when she was included in the MCU, Marvel has taken every opportunity to tear her down in every way. They make her lose everything and everyone she’s ever loved, while simultaneously creating situations that cause her character to be torn down, leaving her to question everything about her and what she does.

54 notes · View notes

redschillzone · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Fucking Care Pt. 2 (Iden Versio x Reader)

(Gif found here!)

Part 1 Pairing: Iden Versio x Reader Word Count: 4.0k Words Warnings: Couple of curse words Summary: A month after the argument reader is reunited with Iden during the Battle of Jakku.

A/N: Two Iden fics in one day? You’d be correct. Anyway, here’s the long awaited part 2! I hope you guys enjoy! :)

You couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped your lips as you removed your pilot helmet and glanced around the ship hangar quietly; Watching as fellow pilots returned from their recent missions and exited their ships. Their droids gladly removed themselves from their ships and beeped happily as they awaited their pilots to touch the ground and praise them for their work. Some were even greeted back from their significant others, greeting them with a kiss to the lips or a quick hug. You couldn’t help but look away, remaining in your x-wing for the time being. It had been a month since that argument between you and Iden and you hadn’t seen her since. Now, whether that was on purpose or because she was being sent away on various missions you couldn’t tell; All you knew was that you needed to find her and apologize. You knew you were in the wrong but because of your stubborn attitude you weren’t ready to admit it at the time. You those little stunts you were doing while out in battle were dangerous and you should have known better then to say that nobody cared when in all honesty there were several people who did care for you; Maker, even Iden admitted that she loved you. But because of what you were doing you lost that chance to be with her. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hard as you gripped your helmet in your hands. You were slowly but surely beginning to work on your behavior but what was the point if Iden wasn’t around to see it?

You glanced down at the helmet in your hands, running your thumb over the newest scrape and dent that had appeared in it. You may have broken your own rules and decided to pull another dangerous stunt to save one of your fellow pilots once more. You had done a series of maneuvers that the TIEs couldn’t keep up with but in that process you managed to bang your helmet on the side of the cockpit in doing so. You couldn’t help but shake your head as you opened the hatch to your x-wing and proceeded to get out; You would fix the dent later. Right now you needed to try and find Iden. The moment your boots hit the ground, your R2-series droid beeped at you. You couldn’t help but blink as you glanced at the green and white droid as it was lowered down from your x-wing.

“Wait- You said Leia wants to see me?” You questioned to which the droid beeped once more, as if confirming what you just said. You couldn’t help but let out a breath, giving a small nod.

“I.. Well alright.” You spoke as you began to make your way out of the hangar and down the halls of the ship. You were occasionally greeted by a fellow pilot or soldier to which you gladly returned the greeting, but your mind was elsewhere. What did Leia want to see you about? It could have been about anything at this point; How you flew, how you handled missions, did you forget to do a briefing for her? Your mind was swimming with thoughts as you entered the main briefing room, stopping for a short moment as you spotted her; Iden Versio. You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you made your way over, Leia looking over once Iden had shifted her gaze to you.

“Ah, (Y/N). I’m glad your last mission was a success.” Leia spoke through the hologram, to which you turned your attention to her and gave a small nod as you stood just beside the console.

“I am as well, General. But I heard you wanted to see me?” You questioned, tilting your head slightly to the side. Leia gave a nod to you.

“That I did. I wish for you to join Inferno Squadron on their mission to Jakku. If this mission goes according to plan, it’ll mark the end of this war.” Leia told you. You couldn’t help but blink at her words; The end of the war? That was a far stretch but even though Leia wasn’t in front of you, you could tell she was being serious. You couldn’t help but let out a breath as your shoulders seemed to relax as they had suddenly grown tense. You gave her a small nod as you stood at attention, your hands behind your back.

“I’ll join them on the mission, General.” You told her, watching as a smile crossed her features.

“Good. Iden will fill you in on the details. May the force be with you, Inferno Squad.” Leia spoke before she disappeared from your vision, leaving just you and Iden in the briefing room. You shifted your gaze in her direction, sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. It was silent and the static like noise that was beginning to fill your ears was beginning to be too much. Just as you were about to speak up Iden spoke first.

“Glad to see you’re doing well..” She spoke, her hands working away at the console as she began to pull up the holograms needed for the briefing when Del and Shriv showed up. You gave a small nod as you watched her, a concentrated look on her face. She was hard to read, even you struggled to figure out just what she was thinking.

“I am.. I’m glad you’re doing okay.” You admitted, watching as she shifted her gaze to you then back to the console, giving a small nod in return.

“Yes. I’ve just been very busy lately.” She spoke as she straightened her back after she had the schematics pulled up. You watched as the blue holograms appeared on screen; The main one that caught your eye was the bundle of Imperial fleets. You felt that adrenaline beginning to rush through your veins again. This mission was going to be a long and tough one, and you were living for it. But then you remember what you had told yourself, and with Iden standing just in front of you, you needed to keep your word; Don’t do anything stupid or reckless. You gave her a small nod before you spoke up once more, deciding to change the subject.

“Iden, listen.. I want to apologize for what happened back then..” You told her, moving yourself a bit closer to her as she watched you with cautious eyes. She was weary of what you were about to tell her, but you couldn’t get another word out before Del and Shriv made their way into the room. Del took one look at you and gave a small smile.

“Hello again, (L/N).” Del spoke as he stood on the other side of the console. You couldn’t help but let out a small breath and gave him a nod in return.

“Meeko. Glad to see you again.” You told him, greeting Shriv as well as you moved away from Iden. You would just have to try to talk to her again after the mission was finished. You stood quietly off to the side as Iden began to explain the mission to everyone there.

“Destroying that factory had a bigger impact than we thought. Admiral Ackbar is calling all Republic Ships to Jakku. The whole Imperial fleet is there, minus the equipment they would have received from Sullust.” Iden spoke as she made her way around the console to stand by Shriv’s side, watching as the holograms changed alongside her words.

“I expect my father will be there too, but catching him is no longer our priority. This battle could be the end of the war. Let’s get in and do what we can to help.” She finished up, glancing between everyone who gave a nod. Iden shifted her gaze to you once she finished, remaining quiet but you could see something in her eyes; You weren’t sure what it was at the moment, but you could tell it was directed at you. You gave a small hum as you turned and began to walk out of the room, Iden soon following along with the others. You four made your way onto the Crovus’ bridge and watched the fight happen just outside the window; TIE fighters swarmed the place along with various X-wings attempting to take them down. She wasn’t kidding when she had told you that the whole Imperial fleet resided on Jakku. You couldn’t help but let out a breath as you shifted your gaze to Del as he spoke up.

“I’m picking up distress signals.. Too many to count.” He spoke as the officer standing by flicking through the signals, giving Del a distressed look as he turned to look between you, Iden, and Shriv. Iden spoke without any hesitation as she tore her eyes away from the fighting just outside.

“Del, the Corvus is yours.” She spoke, soon turning her gaze to you.

“(Y/N), cover the sky for me.” She told you, having that glint in her eyes; She knew you could handle it. You had handled worse situations before without any hesitation so she knew you would be perfect for the job. You couldn’t help the small smirk on your face as you gave a nod.

“Yes Commander.” You told her, watching as she turned to Shriv.

“Shriv and I will help the ground.” She spoke as she turned her body and began to walk away, Shriv and you close behind. Del gave a small hum as he turned back to look outside. You kept in pace with Iden and Shriv, moving to walk beside her before you three reached the hangar within the Corvus.

“Hey Iden?” You spoke as she began to break away to where her x-wing resided, looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes?” She questioned, watching as you shifted your weight before speaking up.

“Make sure you come back, alright?” You told her, sincerity in your eyes. Iden couldn’t help but stare at you for a few moments; You had apologized to her for being an asshole just a month ago and she knew you wanted to talk it through so you were sincere on your words. She couldn’t help but crack a smile; As much as she hated your stubbornness and your adrenaline jockey attitude, she still loved you even after that argument. She gave you a small nod before she spoke up.

“Same goes for you, (Y/N). That’s an order.” She told you which had you laughing as you made your way to your x-wing. This was a battle you weren’t going to forget and there was no way you were going to mess it up; Not when you were so close to the freedom you had fought for, not to mention that much closer to winning Iden’s heart for good.

-------------------

You watched from your x-wing as the Corvus’ hangar was shot from a passing TIE fighter, your heart stopping in your chest for a few short moments as you watched Iden’s x-wing plummet towards the ground; Everything in you was telling you to fly after Iden to make sure she was alright, but you were given your orders. Iden had told you to watch the skies, take care of the TIE fighters that swarmed the area. You were more than ready to break those orders but soon relaxed once you saw her x-wing start up, just narrowly missing the ground before she flew off. You shook your head as you flew ahead, locking yourself onto a TIE and began to shoot it down before you spoke over the comms to Iden.

“That didn’t look like the most inspiring start, Commander.” You teased her, relaxing a bit as you heard her chuckle lightly on the other end.

“Hey- I’m still alive. Keep yourself focused, (Y/N). I can’t have you dying on me early, now can I?” She spoke before turning her comm off with you, opening up another with Del and asking where she was needed. You shook your head lightly, glancing around as a few more TIE’s began to fill the skies as you took out a few one by one. The command you were given was nothing new then what you had already been doing but you noticed that somehow, it was beginning to be a little more difficult. It could have been from the large number of TIEs that were in the area or it could have been because you knew Iden was nearby this time. Regardless, you were doing your best to keep the skies clear; Blasting away the TIE’s and Imperial transport ships, flying through the explosions and laughing a bit as you continued. You could feel the adrenaline rushing through you but you knew you needed to bring it down, control it so you wouldn’t do something you would regret later.

You would occasionally re-group with Iden and Shriv to make sure they got to the distress signal areas alright and once you knew they had the situation covered you returned to where you were needed. It wasn’t long before you began to see less and less TIE fighters and more and more X and A wings flying about the area. You couldn’t help but grin as you began to realize this was the end of the war; The Republic was going to win here and now. You couldn’t help but pick up the pace of your attack, taking down as many TIE fighters as you could. It wasn’t until you heard Del over the comms your attention was drawn to the Corvus. “Commander, we have a problem.” He started as he rushed to the front of the ship, noticing the group of Imperial ships flying in his direction. You spotted them as well and quickly began to fly towards the Corvus, gripping your controls tightly.

“Hold on Del- I’m almost there-” You spoke but it was to late; The ships had opened fire and done a small bit of damage. You gave a small growl as you flew after them, gladly opening fire once they were in your range; But they didn’t explode due to you, someone else had opened fire as well. You looked up as Iden flew over you, chuckling a bit as she took the Imperial ships out.

“Come on, (Y/N). I thought you were better then this?” She teased to which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Oh you want me to be better? Just you wait.” You told her as you engaged your thrusters, flying past her to take on another squadron of TIEs. It became a game between the two of you even though nobody had said a thing to engage it; And you couldn’t help but laugh every so often whenever you stole one of Iden’s kills. You would even huff whenever she stole on of yours; It was interesting, to say the least until Shriv interrupted.

“I hate to interrupt the cute little game you two are playing, but there’s another squadron coming in.. Only, they’re after you, Iden.” He spoke before the comms were cut off and a masciline voice flooded in.

“Hello, Iden.” Hask hissed from the other end and you couldn’t help but frown and grip the controls of your x-wing. You had heard what he had done, who he was; You hated his guts and now that he was here you wanted nothing more than to take him on yourself but you waited upon Iden to see what her orders were.

“Hask… I knew you couldn’t pass up this opportunity.” Iden responded, doing a few spins to avoid incoming missiles and shots.

“Believe me, you and Del are the least of my concerns today. There’s more going on here then you understand.” He hissed out before he parked the orders to his squad mates. “Squadron, attack!” It wasn’t long after that that you heard Iden’s voice once more through the comms.

“(Y/N), help me out with this.” She hissed to which you gave a sly grin, wanting nothing more than to help her out with this dogfight.

“Anything for you, Commander.” You spoke and flew past her once more, deciding to leave Hask for Iden and focused your fire and attention on the group of TIEs that flew with Hask. You spun about around you, doing several flips and spins to avoid missiles and shots that were fired at you; Doing your best to get behind the TIEs before shooting them down one by one. You would occasionally glance towards Iden, watching her x-wing as it flew around after Hask; She was doing her hardest to shoot him down and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as he was soon shot from the sky, spiralling out of control and disappearing into the sandy dunes below.

“Commander, you alright?” You questioned, to which Del quickly followed up.

“Iden, are you okay?” It was a few short moments before Iden spoke up to the both of you.

“Yes, I’m good.” She spoke, letting out a breath as she watched the Star Destroyer in front of her; The one that belonged to her father.

“Look around you.. We’re almost finished.” You told her but she gave a small hum before she spoke up once more.

“Not yet. Del, get the Corvus to safety. (Y/N), insure it does just that.” She said as she continued to fly towards the large ship, causing a frown to appear on your lips as you watched her. You knew what she was about to do and you weren’t going to be the one to argue with her on the matter.

“I’m finishing what we started. I’m gonna get my dad.” Iden informed you both to which Del let out a breath and shook his head in disagreement.

“Iden, he’s not worth it.” He began to argue but was soon cut off by Iden’s serious and demanding tone.

“I have to try, Del. Now go, both of you!” She snapped, to which Del gave a small sigh but ordered the retreat, stepping away from the window to help the officers behind him. You, on the other hand, began to follow Iden; A bad feeling was beginning to fill in your stomach as you spoke over the comms as you kept her ship in your sights.

“Iden don’t do anything reckless, please-” You began to plead which caused the commander to laugh as she neared the ship.

“Says the reckless one.” She spoke, glancing back at your ship before she spoke up.

“(Y/N) please, help Del get the Corvus to safety. I’ll be alright, I promise.” She promised you which caused you to bite your lip. You wanted to follow her, you wanted to ensure her safety but you had to trust her. You sighed and pulled your x-wing up and began to fly towards the Corvus.

“Alright.. Be safe, Iden.” You spoke as you continued to fly away, hearing her hum over the comms before they went dead silent quickly. You glanced back and you couldn’t help but tense as you noticed her x-wing being shot down; You wanted nothing more then to turn around and fly down to save her, make sure she was okay but you had your orders, and good soldiers always followed orders.

“Iden? Iden?!” You shouted into the comms, worry filling your voice. It took a few moments but she responded.

“I’m alright- I’m okay. Just get the Corvus to safety, search out any other distress signals you get. I’ll be quick I promise.” She spoke, cutting off the comms once more. You couldn’t help but let out a breath and continued your flight. Now you knew how she felt when you were doing the reckless stunts.

-------------------

The moment you saw the escape pod shot out from the fallen Star Destroyer, you quickly began to follow after it’s course in your x-wing; Engaging the thrusters to their maximum capacity. You were racing the pod at this point, praying that it was one that contained your commander. The moment your x-wing touched the ground you jumped out without any hesitation, tearing the helmet off your head and ran over to the pod, clambering on top of it and carefully opened the hatch. You stared at the person inside, letting out a shaky breath as you gave a small grin and held your hand out; Iden carefully covered her eyes as the sun just about blinded her but she gave a small smile and took your hand. She carefully got herself out of the escape pod, standing just on top of you with it as you two glanced around at the wreckage that now littered the once clear sandy dunes.

The two of you glanced at each other once more, Iden staring at you for a few moments before you spoke up.

“It’s over, Iden.. We won.” You grinned, tears forming in your eyes as you held her hands in yours. She watched you for a short moment before she glanced around at the wreckage once more; It was over. They had won and the Empire was taken out. She couldn’t help but begin to feel the immense joy that began to spread through her body and turned to you quickly, putting her hands on your cheeks and kissed you without any hesitation. You tensed slightly as she crashed her lips onto yours but you gladly shut your eyes and returned the heated and passionate kiss; Her lips fit perfectly against yours, you noted. But Maker, how long you waited to do this; You moved your hands down to her hips as you pulled her as close you possibly could. The kiss lasted for several minutes before you pulled away, watching Iden with glossy eyes as the tears ran down your face. Iden couldn’t help but blink lightly at your tears and carefully used her thumbs to wipe them away.

“Hey.. You’re okay.. We won.” She laughed lightly, causing you to chuckle lightly and shake your head.

“It’s not that Iden.. I just- I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again after that argument. After everything I said I didn’t think you’d love me an-” You started but were cut off once more by another kiss that lasted a few short seconds before Iden pulled away to look at you once more, moving one of her hands down to hold your hand in hers.

“I forgave you, (Y/N). I forgave you about a day or two after the argument.. I just didn’t have the time to see you. I still love you just as much, alright?” She told you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze to which you gave her a warm smile. She forgave you; Hell, she even said she still loved you. Which you of course assumed she would after that kiss just a few moments ago. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you kissed her once more, but even that was cut short as you heard someone clear their throat beside you; You both pulled apart to look at just who was nearby.

“I uh.. I’m glad you two are alive and are finally making up for lost time but um.. There’s something you two need to see.” Shriv spoke nearby, Del standing just beside him as he shook his head lightly at the two of you. You couldn’t help but lightly blush that dusted your cheeks as you glanced towards Iden who blinked and gave a small nod, carefully making her way off the escape pod; You followed after her, keeping her hand in yours as the four of you made your way to the nearby sand ridge. Just beyond it laid the wreckage of the Star Destroyers that made up the last of the Empire’s fleet. You couldn’t help but stare in awe as you looked around the area, giving Iden’s hand a small squeeze as you looked towards her now. She was staring in awe just as you were, shifting her gaze to you as she felt your hand squeeze hers. The war was over, you could finally relax and that was exactly what you intended to do with Iden Versio by your side.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Battlefront 2 #Iden Versio #Iden Versio x Reader #Iden Versio Imagines #Iden Versio Headcanons #Battlefront 2 #Battlefront ii

30 notes · View notes