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jedijesi · 3 years

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Luminary Love

Prince!Din Djarin x F!Princess!Reader

🤍Masterlist🤍

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut (F receiving, PiV, Breeding kink)

Summary: Tonight is your (unwanted) wedding to the soon-to-be King of Mandalore, but is there more to him than meets the eye?

Word Count: 3,100+

A/N: I’ve had this idea for several days now and I just needed to write it. Don’t worry tho bc the next ch. of biblichor will b out soon. Enjoy some Din content!🤍

All night long, you received congratulations and cheers. Thousands, billions of people would kill to be in your position, but you dreaded this more than anything. You never wanted to marry the soon-to-be king of Mandalore, but the Royal administration never gave you an option. Throughout the fantastical wedding, you repeatedly reminded yourself it was for your people - they are the ones who will prosper from this. Thankfully, his creed forbade him from removing his helmet in front of others, therefore you weren’t allowed to kiss him. The only time you had to touch him during the ceremony was when you held hands. Even then, his mastiff-leather gloves create a barrier from any real contact.

After the ceremony, you avoided your new husband as best you could. When it was time to put on a show, you had forced yourself to put on the royal smile you had been practicing. When eating, you sat as far away as possible from him but not far enough to worry the royal administrations that watched you two tentatively. The times you were called to waltz, you performed what you had been learning for months but never made eye contact with him. After a few dances, the royals watching had joined in and forgotten about you, giving you the perfect chance to escape.

You spent your time talking with other royalty, expressing your worries and concerns to Princess Mary of Ryloth. Unlike you, she was happily married, but it was her 3rd time. The first two suitors weren’t ‘good enough’ for her, so she became the royal’s biggest scandal and ignored her administration to marry for love. Luckily her experience with terrible lovers led to wonderful tips and tricks that she gladly gave you for your wedding night. You knew she was telling you these things to help, but in reality, it only made you feel worse about your new life.

“Djarin, my oldest friend, how are you enjoying your wedding?” General Paz said with a heavy pat to Din’s pauldron.

“It’s… grand.” Din sounded unconvinced by his own words.

“Grand? Is that all you have to say?”

“Well, everything appears wonderful, but my wife won’t speak nor look at me.”

“Have you attempted to talk to her?”

“Of course!” Din and Paz turn to watch you talk to Princess Mary. “She never responds, though.”

The uncomfortable feeling of Din’s stare props you to turn around. The blue and silver beskar statues jump when you catch them and quickly turn back to avoid any further embarrassment.

“I haven’t seen her in years, but she has grown to be quite beautiful, you must admit.” Paz shrugs.

“I know, it’s one of the many reasons I married her. I just… wish she’d give me a chance.”

“Well, she better. I overheard that the administration is already seething that you two haven’t gone back to your honeymoon suite.”

Din rolls his eyes under his helmet. “I don’t care about them. They shouldn’t have a say in my marriage.”

“Good luck arguing that. You know they expect an heir to be conceived tonight.”

“I already have Grogu. Is he not enough?”

“Nothing is enough for them, my friend.” Paz pats Din’s back reassuringly. “Just be kind to the poor girl. I’m sure she isn’t pleased with all of this.” He gestures to the grand chandeliers and dramatic towers of cake and food.

Din sighs as he fiddles with the edge of his cape. “Alright. I should probably go fetch her before the Administration creates any more drama.”

“Good luck, your majesty.” Paz bows as Din walks your way.

Din let’s go of his cape before wiping his armor of any lingering bits of dust and dirt, wanting to be as presentable as possible for you. When Din arrives behind you, he clears his throat and bows.

“My Princess, it is time for us to leave for the Honeymoon Suite.”

Without a word, you give him a nod and take his arm. The guests cheer and whisper as you and your husband make your way out of the ballroom. You could hear Royal Administers whisper their concerns regarding your fertility or your performance in bed. It was dehumanizing, to say the least. You fought for justice and equality on Naboo, but this was not the way on Mandalore. Your new role would be diminished to a supporting queen who would raise the future heirs. Meanwhile, the other women of Mandalore were busy serving valiantly in wars. This was the way. Mandalore was born out of extremists, and you had to embrace the consequences.

Din hated the whispers. If he were king, he would have lashed out long ago, but the coronation isn’t for another few days. You didn’t deserve to be treated as an object. Din saw you to be the goddess that would help lead his people into prosperity and the gorgeous woman who may one day graciously birth his children. Such slander against someone so perfect made Din rage under his helmet. A few more days. Din would remind himself.

The Suite reflected Mandalore: grand and majestic. Silver swirls of beskar outlined the stained glass windows that watched over Mandalore. The bed was larger than any other you had seen before. It looked cozy; a complete contrast to the large and uncomfortable dress you’ve been wearing all day. You walked over to touch the silk-like blankets and sighed at its softness.

Din watched you with interest - mesmerized by the way the roaring fireplace creates a golden glow on your features. “Wife?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you look at me?” The flicker of sadness in his voice took you by surprise. You weren’t sure if Mandalorians could feel emotions underneath the layers of cold beskar. “Do I… scare you?”

You turn to look at him, your nerves shining through by the twiddling of your thumbs. “I… I don't know.”

“What is wrong, my dear princess? I want to fix this. I don't want to start our marriage off on the wrong foot.” You sit down on the luxurious bed, your eyes now watching as you fiddle with your dress. Din walks towards you, taking a knee to be at eye level with you. “I understand this isn't what you wanted. I heard whispers that it took the maids an hour to get you off your ship. That you fought off any guard that laid a hand on you.” Din chuckled at the image he had created in his head. “But then the fighting stopped… why?” You couldn't find it within yourself to respond. “Won’t you please entertain my curiosity?”

You sighed and looked up into the dark visor. “I realized I was being selfish. I had forgotten that marriage among the royals was for the people… not for love.”

“You do not love me?”

“We barely know each other, your majesty.”

“What are you speaking of? We used to be best friends.”

You scoffed at Din. “We were children, your majesty. You were just a servant boy in the palace back then, but times have changed, haven't they, your majesty.”

“Please refrain from calling me ‘your majesty.’ I thought we were beyond that.” Din groaned, annoyed by the ridiculous title.

“Din, you're to become the Mandalore - the king - in a few days' time. I understand the rules - I understand why you had to marry me.”

“What? So that I could officially hold the title as king? I don't care about a stupid title - the administration does.”

“Then why marry me? There are millions of royals lined up to marry the Mandalore, but why choose me, Din? Why?” You started getting hysterical at it all. Your life's work had come to a halt just so that Din could be crowned king. It was disgusting and unfair.

“As an orphan-servant boy, the days your family visited were the best days of my life. Your parents always treated me like their own - the complete opposite of how the Kryze family did. I meant it when I said you were my best friend. You were the only person who could beat Paz and me in a fight. The only person who would sneak out of the palace to play in the garden at night with me. When your parents… passed and you stopped visiting me… It crushed me. I never stopped thinking about you, my princess.”

You could hear the build-up of tears in Din’s throat, but he wasn't the only one. You too had tears in your eyes, remembering the once pure and innocent life you had. You bring your hand up to din's helmet, holding where his cheek would be.

“Do you remember that last night?”

“Of course I do. It was a cold night in the rose garden. I gave you my coat since you had insisted you didn't need your shall.” Din smiled and chuckled at the memory.

“I... I never saw your lips, but I had never felt such pure joy than the moment they molded against mine.”

Din leans his head forward to rest your foreheads together. Underneath, he continued to beam. It had been so long since he had felt such love - such love that could only be created by you.

“My princess, I never stopped loving you. Even as we grew up and apart, I would watch the holovids that spoke about you, and all the wonderful things you were doing for your people. It was the only thing that kept me going through those torturous years apart from you. I love you.”

Din’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you too, Din.”

“My wife?”

“Yes, my husband?”

“Will you take this ridiculous helmet off of me so that I may kiss you and make love to you?”

Your glowing smile melts Din’s heart. Your hand reaches up to slowly slide off the silver beskar helmet that covered those features you dreamt of. An audible gasp escapes past your lips when Din’s lips appear. It took everything in you to not pounce on him and cover him in kisses, but you maintain your composure. His nose was strong and beautiful, and his cheeks… oh, how you wanted to leave lipstick stains on them. Then were his perfect eyes. Those chocolate eyes that expressed an amount of love you'd never completely fathom in your life.

“You're stunning, Din.” Din’s heart flutters at your words. The only compliment he's ever received was about his combat skills and valor. He's never been complimented on his looks before.

“I’d never compare to my gorgeous wife.”

Din takes your face into his palms and slowly pulls you in for a kiss. The moment your lips touch, you feel fireworks exploding all around you. The glowing lights flash behind your eyelids as you mold your lips together. The tickle of his mustache causes you to giggle into the kiss, which Din finds to be enchanting. One of Din's hands leaves your face to grip your torso, massaging and kneading your skin.

“I love you.” He murmurs into the kiss. “I love you more than the moons and stars.”

As the kisses become more intense, so does your lust for one another. Din’s hands undo the strings of your wedding dress as you shed his armor off - lips never leaving each other. Once you two were completely naked, Din had you crawl to the center of the bed.

“Now, lay back, my love. I want to show you how much I love and miss you.” You follow his instructions and rest your head on the large cloud-like pillows.

Din crawls between your legs, taking one into his hand. Starting from your ankle, he works his way down, leaving a trail of sloppy yet delicate kisses. He takes his time at your inner thigh, sucking and licking at your skin to make you emit whimpers.

“D-Din, please don't tease me.”

“Hush, now. Let me take my time loving you.” And he does. He spends his time worshiping your body - kissing and sucking the skin around your lips while his hand massages your breasts. Suddenly, Din dives into your sopping wet cunt, immediately sucking and licking your swollen clit. You let out a loud gasp followed by a moan, making Din’s cock bounce up in excitement.

Your noises sound like music - the most angelic music he's ever heard in his life. Each moan and whimper you let out only addicted him more. Din wraps his hands around your waist and sits back, lifting your hips from the bed and to his mouth. You grip the blankets with a scream as Din explores further into your pussy. The animalistic grunts and growls he lets out only make you wetter.

“Come on, Princess. Cum. Cum all over my face. I need it.” And just like that, you let out a scream as you convulse around his tongue. Din slowly lowers you back onto the bed as he licks up your dripping cum. “You're sweeter than a meiloorun, darling. I've never tasted anything so divine. I’d love to stay between your legs forever and drink your cum until the day I die, but I wanna put a baby in you too badly to do so.” You let out a whimper at his filthy words. “Can I, darling? Will you let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Wait, we're not done?” You ask through pants.

“Not done? We’ll be done when the sun wakes up. Even then, I'm not sure if we'll ever be done. Why?”

“The other princesses said it would only be a minute of discomfort, and it’ll be over.

Din tsks and shakes his head, pressing a few kisses to your clit. “Oh, my darling. I'm not like those other royals. I care about my wife’s pleasure, and you…” Din presses more kisses to your overstimulated heat. “Are nowhere near done with your, please. So, I'll ask you again. Are you ready for me to fuck a baby into you with my thick, hard cock?”

“Stars, yes! Please, Din!” You hated how completely and utterly desperate you sounded, but you were completely and utterly desperate for Din to fuck you.

Din crawls up to meet your half-lidded eyes, drooping with lust. He places soft kisses on your cheeks before pressing one to your lips. “Are you ready for me, Princess?”

“Yes, my husband.”

Din grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance. With a loud moan, he enters your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh, you're so wet! Ungh… Stars, you're so tight too!” Din’s thrusts speed up to a steady pace, your moans echoing through the room along with the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies pounding together. “From this day forward, y-your. Pussy. Belongs. To. Me.” Din emphasizes his words with his cock hitting against your g-spot.

“O-Only i-if your cock b-belongs - Oh yes, Din - To me.”

Din chuckles through his labored breaths. “Of course, my love. My cock is forever yours to do what you please with. I don't care what time- ugnh- or what p-place. It's yours.” You lean up to capture din’s parted lips, swallowing his beautiful moans. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten. Desperate for your release, you buck your hips back into Din. “Yes, take my cock. It's yours. All yours.” Din takes your legs, pushing them to your chest. Both of you let out a series of loud moans at the deeper feeling.

“Oh, Din! I'm going to cum if you keep doing that!”

“Ugh, I can see the galaxy when I'm inside you! Can you feel that, my love?”

“Yes, I-I can feel your throbbing cock!” You throw your head back at the euphoric feeling. Your exposed neck allows Din to swoop down and suck marks onto it.

“Th-That's me, claiming what's mine. You're all mine, my princess.” Din’s thrusts speed up, desperate and ready for you to cum. Each thrust was accompanied by a loud grunt that made you clench even tighter. “I'm gonna cum. I'm going to give you a baby - our baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Din! I love y-you!” You scream out a slew of ‘i love yous’ and clench tightly around Din’s swollen cock. Your orgasm and words of love cause Din to cum, sending spurts of his cum into your womb, where your future child would soon grow.

Din collapses on you which you gladly accept. You wrap your arms around his neck and place kisses on the crown of his head. Both of you stay like that for a while, basking in pure love. Once your breaths are back to normal, Din slowly pulls out of you to lay on the bed beside you. He pulls you closer to him so that no space lingered and adjusted the blankets to create a cocoon of comfort around you two.

You smile as you listen to his heartbeat against his chest. Din’s index finger presses to the underside of your chin, adjusting your eyes to look into his.

“Are you okay, my love?”

You nod lazily, completely worn out. “You know, having a husband isn't so bad after all.” Din lets out a hearty laugh before leaning down to kiss you.

“Yeah, having a wife isn't so bad either.” Din smirks at you, causing you to shy away in embarrassment and return your attention to his chest. Your fingers trace shapes and words onto his chest until you stop. A mark on Din’s torso prompts you to inspect it. “What are your curious fingers doing, my love?”

“What is this?” You ask as your finger traces the mark.

“It’s just a scar, dearest.”

“A scar?” You look back at Din with worry in your eyes.

“Oh, don't worry, my love. I've collected so many over the years, I've become immune to them. That one was either from when I fought Bo-Katan or when I fought a mudhorn to save my son.”

“Goodness.... I've missed so much of your life.” Your face droops with sadness, but Din is quick to relieve your worries.

“Now, it's nothing to be upset over. Yes, we've missed a lot, but that means we can spend the rest of our lives catching up and making new memories. Plus, you can meet my son tomorrow.”

You smile and press a chaste kiss to Din’s lips. “I’d love that.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, but this one wasn't so innocent.

“Did I not satisfy you, my love?” Din chuckles into the kiss. You climb on top of him and shake your head. “Oh, does my princess want more?”

You give Din a mischievous grin and shrug.

Din smirks before leaning in to kiss you. “Well, who am I to deny my wife of her wishes?”

A/N: Idk who from my Javier Peña taglist wants to be on this one, but those who are interested in being added to a Din Djarin taglist or a perminante taglist, please let me know.🤍 Can’t wait to hear what you all think!

#luminary love #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #pedro pascal x reader

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

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School House Blues

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Warnings: N/A

Request from Anon: Hey so I saw your post that said requests for certain characters were open and I was wondering if I could ask for a din djarin x plus size reader with this prompt please? : (19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. I was thinking the kid could be one of her students! Thank you so much in advance ♥️♥️

Summary: When the bounty hunter strolls into your little mining town you don’t think much of it, but with a little boy in his wake and your school house in disrepair, he becomes more than just a passing visit, but a welcome constant.

Notes: You know me too well, Western AU/historic AU Din is so good as a concept and ughhhhhh this was so wonderful to have requested and I hope desperately that it’s good!

Reader isn’t really specified as plus size just because it didn’t really come up in the story? Although she is described as being quite soft and sweet in appearance.

Archiveofourown

He comes into town with one hand clenched around his horse’s reins, guiding the bay and white creature with a bounty hogtied swearing and cursing over its rump, and the other hand holding a little boy of no older than six at his hip. It’s quite the sight, one that momentarily distracts you from your grief at the fact you’re teaching your children out of a saloon now since your schoolhouse was burnt to the ground.

He’s imposing or he would be if the little boy wasn’t smiling up at him with big brown eyes. It’s hard to be imposing when you’re clearly the world of a small child and it makes you smile from the porch of the saloon. You’d been organising the boxes of donations the townsfolk had put together, since all your books, slates, chalk, paper, pencils, and the like had burnt in the fire, when he strolls past. He glances over at you and tips his head, hat dipping over his chestnut eyes and it flusters you for a second when you finally see his face.

He’s handsome, incredibly so, too handsome to be in your small mining town you think. Deep brown eyes, a prominent nose and plump lips set in a perpetual pout. His jaw is sharp and his beard and moustache are trimmed neatly, despite the bruising on his face and the layer of dirt from the road he’s truly beautiful, a thought that flusters you further. The small boy sat comfortably at his hip and playing with the fabric of his suspenders is adorable, soft round cheeks and large brown eyes, but he doesn’t look much like the man and you’re curious what the story is there.

The boy is old enough to be in school with you, to sit and learn his letters and to read while the older kids move on to learning about science, history, mathematics and poetry. There are a couple of children his age in your class, Timmy and Mary-Beth, both just getting the hang of gripping a pencil correctly. You wonder if he won’t be joining your class soon or if he and his guardian will be out of town before you can even consider preparing for a new student.

You watch the man hitch the horse outside the Sheriff’s office, the one that’s not got a sheriff at the moment. You hope he’s not looking for quick pay, the lawman that resided in the Sheriff’s office at the moment was just there until they could find a new sheriff. He’d have to telegram out to get the bounty money. Your last sheriff had up and left after being shot at by a couple of drunk miners, he’d decided that was enough and quite the same day. The town had been a little more unruly since and it was beginning to make you and some of the other townsfolk uneasy without someone to keep the peace. The temporary lawman had been lazy and uninvolved thus far. It was after the sheriff quit that your schoolhouse burnt down and you weren’t sure it was coincidence.

You watch the man place the boy on his feet and say something quietly to him before brushing his hair fondly. He grabs the bounty off of the horse, and slings the man over his shoulder. It’s impressive that he doesn’t struggle up the steps to the office even with a fully grown man thrown over his shoulder, the little boy follows after him as he goes inside.

You return to your organisation. There aren’t that many books, not like you used to have. But, while you wait for some of your teaching associates across the country to send you items, they will do. There’s enough paper and some slates for all your students to practice their writing and get their work written down which is a relief and even a globe that the general store owner, Mr Hewitt, had found in a back cupboard for you to have.

You’re trying to lift one of the boxes of books when he comes back out again, the little boy still trailing behind him, but this time something shiny is pinned to the man’s blue shirt. You don’t think too much about it as you struggle to lift the box, your heavy skirts not helping you move much, hindering your progress and causing you to trip each step forward you take.

You hear his boots on the wooden stairs before you see him, he towers over you, as he takes his hat off, more polite than most men in town. You get a better look at the shiny thing pinned to his shirt and realise it’s a sheriff’s badge. The same one the old sheriff used to wear, you look from it to him and then down when you hear a little giggle. The little boy is still following after him, a sweet smile turned on you this time as he leans around the man’s legs to watch you.

“Miss, I can take that.” He gestures to the box in your hand, it’s not a question, and it’s straight and to the point. But, you’re grateful for the offer and hand it off to him without complaint. He’s stronger than you, that’s clear to see, his arms thick from years of hard work.

“Thank you…” You wait for him to tell you his name, trailing off as you lead him into the saloon that has been set out for the school day. There is a black board at the front, tables and chairs littered around the room, the liquor shelves have been emptied for books to replace them.

The fact that Mr Karga had offered the saloon for the school was a miracle and while many in town grumbled about their favourite place of vice no longer admitting them during the day time, most were supportive of the decision to help the kids continue their school. Nevarro wasn’t a large town and mining was its main source of income, but the children deserved a chance to do more than just become miners and the school helped them do that. You helped them get into colleges on scholarships, to find jobs as clerks and apprentices in other parts of the country.

“Din Djarin.” It’s a nice name, rolls of his tongue like honey. He doesn’t smile, not really, not properly, but there’s a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes that soften his face and make him seem warmer somehow.

“And this little one?” You smile at the little boy as he begins to bravely step out from behind his guardian to greet you with a smile. He is a quiet boy, not the usual talkative sort you find with a six year old, but who knows what he’s been through even at this young age.

“Grogu, he’s my…” He furrows his brow, clearly thinking hard on the right word. That alone tells you he is not his son by blood, a small fact that makes him even more interesting. Not many bounty hunters would take in a small child. “Son.” he finally says. Deciding it is the best term. Grogu isn’t his by blood, Din knows this, but the little boy he’d found all alone surrounded by death, was slowly becoming like a son to him. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood.

“Will he be joining my class? I run the school, currently we’re based here...in the saloon. Not my ideal place to teach but needs must.” You gesture around you to the makeshift classroom. You don’t like that the place still stinks of liquor or that at night it goes back to being a saloon where people drink, gamble, and fight. But, you don’t have a better place right now and the children need somewhere to learn. You can teach in any building, even if you dislike this one.

You fit the image of a school teacher he thinks. You look like a respectable young woman, dressed appropriately, all neat and proper. Your hair pulled up and pinned away like it’s supposed to be. Everything about you is proper. Part of him wants to see you become ruffled, stop being so demure. It’s a thought that makes him frown at himself, the thoughts inappropriate especially towards a lady like yourself.

“Yes. We’ll be staying for awhile. What happened to the school house, Miss…?” He took on the job as sheriff the moment the lawman offered it, the pay was good, gave him his own accommodation and it meant he could settle down for a bit, give the kid an actual childhood. Bounty hunting was something he was good at but it wasn’t exactly safe to do with a six year old in tow. At least this job used his skills catching lawbreakers and put them to use in a place the kid could grow up. It helps that the teacher of the town is pretty too, he thinks.

You give him your name before answering his question, “Well, after the last sheriff quit, the schoolhouse burnt down and along with all the things we had in it. Luckily it was at night and none of us were in the building. Burnt right down to the ground, nothing left…” You say it with a heavy sigh, thinking of that sweet little schoolhouse. The white painted wood, the familiar rows of desks with names carved in them, your favourite collection of university level texts at the back for the older and more advanced kids to explore. You had been teaching in that schoolhouse for the last five years and in a way it had become a second home for you, if you weren’t at your own little home, then you were in the schoolhouse marking work or planning lessons for the coming days.

“Anyone know what caused it?”

“No. We didn’t exactly have the mind to investigate and if it wasn’t an accident it was probably just some drunk who didn’t know any better. But, we make do and Grogu,” You crouch down next to the small child, moving your skirts to do so comfortably, “will fit right in, I think, don’t you?” The little boy smiles at you and giggles, before hiding behind his father’s leg again.

“Have any plans been made to rebuild the schoolhouse?” Sheriff Djarin it seems is very straight and to the point, his tone isn’t unkind or aggressive, but his words are clipped, short, brusque as if he’s not quite used to being more flowery or saying much. You supposed a bounty hunter didn’t typically need to say much, but you hope he’ll become more comfortable with talking, at least to you, as time goes on.

“No...i’ve been trying to put some pressure on the mayor to get it done but...he just doesn’t seem to care all that much now there’s a temporary solution.” You say as you begin unpacking the box that he brought inside, exercise books are brought out and sorted into piles, ready for the children to write their names on the covers and start afresh.

He frowns, brow furrowing deep, lips turned down at the thought of the schoolhouse just never being rebuilt. It’s clear to him that saloon isn’t the place for a school and it’s even clearer that you are distressed with your new working arrangement, that you miss having a building that is entirely your own and entirely dedicated to teaching young minds.

“I’ll sort something out. Is class starting soon?”

“Yes, not...not long now.” You double check the clock realising the kids will begin arriving in less than an hour and you feel wholly unprepared for the first day of school since the schoolhouse burnt down.

You watch him crouch in front of Grogu, hand ruffling his hair fondly, “You’re going to stay here today, get some learnin’ in ya. I’ve got things to do, but I'll be back later, promise.” You’re surprised and warmed when he puts out his pinky finger for the kid to grab, a little promise that seems to you like something more. You wonder if the boy was scared of being left again, if this was Din’s way of reassuring his new son that he wasn’t going to leave him. The little boy wraps his whole hand around Din’s pinkie not quite understanding how the promises work yet.

“Have a good day of teaching, Miss Y/N.” He nods his head at you, grabbing his hat as he walks out the saloon with a purpose. The hat is placed on his head the moment he’s out of the doors and it’s that little element of politeness that surprises you. He carries himself like a gentleman but looks like any other rough and tumble man wandering the west. But it’s his treatment of Grogu that confirms the sort of man that he is.

I’ll sort something out. You smiled to yourself realising that perhaps the new sheriff would be the best thing to happen to this town in a while. Someone who actually got things done for once.

“Do you want to find your seat? Maybe do some drawing before class starts, Grogu?” You ask the little boy smiling at him as he nervously shifts from foot to foot, looking back out the doors as if hoping his father would walk back in. It’s clear he hasn’t had to do this before, be separated from him and left with a stranger, but you put on your softest smile and gentlest voice and wait patiently for him to nod his head before offering him your hand.

He takes your hand and you help him get settled into his seat, you decide to put him near the front so you can help him easily and get him settled near you. He only knows you after all, and you think being around all the kids and far away from familiarity might be too much. You give him some paper, scrap bits that you don’t need anymore and a pencil leaving him to draw while you get ready for class.

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The school day goes...well, it’s hectic and your hair is frizzy and falling out of the updo you styled it in that morning by the end. The children are unsettled in this new environment, the older kids, those nearing adulthood frustrated by the younger kids who can’t seem to focus or be quiet. Your brain feels too large for your skull and you sigh out a goodbye to your students as they leave out the saloon doors, one or two shoving through the swinging shutters much faster than needed.

Grogu is the quietest of your students, sweet and attentive, he doesn’t speak a word, but follows your instructions well. He is behind on his writing letters and reading, that much you know from working with him, but he’s a quick learner and applies himself with a determination you rarely see. He doesn’t always play well with others. At lunch time you’d noticed him stealing food from the other children. It continued despite giving him your own lunch knowing his father hadn’t had time to prepare him something after coming straight into town and getting to work. He doesn’t share well either, but seemed to understand when you sat him down and talked to him about it. You suppose that being away from other children and only travelling with your father figure who would share his food with you without a thought, it must be confusing. The manners that he now has to observe, the rules of society that he’s never had to worry about until now. He looks suitably admonished despite the gentle way you chose to talk about it with him, that alone makes you think he’ll likely stop stealing the children’s cookies and be more willing to share.

“David, careful!” You call out when one of your older students nearly gets trampled underneath the sheriff’s horses’ hooves as he runs across the thoroughfare without looking.

“Sorry, miss!” David calls back over his shoulder, still storming ahead your warning lost on him.

You sigh heavily and rub at your temples, stress enveloping you. A tug, swift and sharp on your skirt has you looking down. Grogu has a hand fisted in the fabric, pulling to get your attention. Once he has it, his arms open, hands up towards you, opening and closing, a universal gesture to be lifted.

It surprises you, he is...quiet and reserved. You expected time to be needed before he was comfortable with you in any respect, especially after having to tell the boy off. Instead, he lets you lift him to your hip, hands reaching for strands of your hair and twisting them, surprisingly gently between his chubby little fingers.

You watch your students run in different directions through town, their books and lunch pails in tow. Some stop on the open green, playing games together before their parents demand them back home for dinner. The warm little body in your arms is a soothing presence and the boy almost looks like he wants to say something, but just makes a soft cooing sound instead.

“Not much of a talker are you, little one?” He almost shrugs his little shoulders before looking up at the sound of heavy footsteps and clinking spurs. The sheriff leads his horse up to you, eyes following David with a shake of his head. Clearly, just as bemused as you at his lack of common sense.

Grogu smiles and giggles happily at the sight of his father, arms reaching out for him. You pass him over to Din, trying to ignore how close you get to the man to do it. He radiates warmth and smells woodsy mixed with some sort of soap he must use. This close you can see little birthmarks dotted across his neck.

You step back once the boy is settled in his arms and smile, soft but tired. “Sheriff, how was your first day on the job?”

He gives you a humoured smirk, one you’re not expecting, it takes you aback slightly. He looks...charming, approachable. Little dimples at his cheeks that soften his features in a way that makes you want to step closer. With a huff, not quite a laugh, he says, “Eventful.”

“That makes two of us, sheriff.” He notices the tired creases beneath your eyes, the once unrumpled appearance now dishevelled, hair coming out of its updo and blouse and skirt wrinkled and creased. You look like you’d had a rough day and he hopes Grogu wasn’t part of the cause. He still hadn’t figured out how to discipline the kid, he always turned those big brown eyes on him and he just couldn’t tell him no.

“Din. Call me Din.”

“Then you should call me Y/N.” There’s a moment of silence. You stare at him, at the way his hat casts shadows over his face, at the gentle hold he has on Grogu, the open top buttons of his work shirt and the dig of suspenders into his shoulders. He stares back at you. The gentle softness of your cheek, the marks that make your skin your skin and not someone else's.

“We’re going to start building the schoolhouse as soon as the wood shipment gets here, I sent a telegram off today to get some good lumber in.” It surprises you in the most delightful way. When you said the mayor had been dragging his heels you meant it, but you hadn’t expected this new face to come in and make a start on what the mayor had been reluctant to do.

“We’re?”

“I’ve convinced some of the men around town to pitch in and I know a thing or two about building.” In truth he’d intimidated more than persuaded. Most of the men were lazy, and had more concern for their own vices than for helping out. But, a mixture of convincing them they’d get their saloon back and reminding them that he was now the town’s sheriff seemed to get a few of the stronger and more skilled townsfolk to agree to help.

“You’re the sheriff. You shouldn’t be building the schoolhouse, Din. You’ve got more important things to do.” You feel bad that he’s doing this, being quite so involved, when he’s starting a new job, one that takes up most of his time. Being a sheriff is a full time job, almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week. He has people to keep in line, criminals to catch, laws to enforce, and building a schoolhouse wasn’t on his list of priorities. It’s sweet and makes your heart ache oddly, but you feel guilty for adding another thing to his plate.

“This is important, Miss...Y/N. The kid can’t learn in a saloon forever and you can’t work here forever neither.” He can see how desperately you want your schoolhouse back and something in him wants to provide that for you, to care for you. He tells himself it’s also for the kid, that his son deserves a proper schoolhouse to learn in. That all foundlings, all little children deserved a place to learn, like he had growing up in the covert.

“At least...at least let me and the children bring food and water down once you get started. I...you’ve not even been here a whole day and you’re already doing more than anyone else ever has...Thank you, Din.”

“It’s my pleasure, meg ba'jurir” You do not understand what he calls you, but you recognise that cadence, the rhythm of the language. Can almost see the symbolic nature of the alphabet. It surprises you that he knows what you’re sure is Mando’a, having only heard one other person in your life ever speak it. Mandalorian family groups were uncommon, but where they were they seemed to keep people in order, to value community. It made sense that he would take on the job of sheriff, adopt a child not of his own blood, if that were the case.

You bite your tongue and don’t ask, you don’t know him and it is too personal to ask about his upbringing, culture or heritage. Perhaps, after you know him better you can ask, but you can almost hear your headmistress at school reminding you about manners and decorum even in a little mining town.

“He didn’t...he didn’t cause any trouble today did he? He’s not used to being around others or...we’ve been on the road for a long time now.” He looks down at the little boy sitting at his hip, who’s playing with the metal star on his shirt. He knew that Grogu could be difficult, sweet, adorable, hard to say no to, but undisciplined and not used to the rules that people usually abided by.

“I...I did have to have a word with him today…” You can already tell Din’s disappointed. He clearly loves the boy, but part of loving a child is wanting better for them and getting in trouble isn’t part of that.

Din sighs heavily before catching the boy’s eye, “Ad’ika…”The boy clearly knows what’s going on and hides his face in his father’s shirt, suitably embarrassed about his behaviour. You think that’s enough to probably deter him from stealing from other kids in the future. You also think you might bake him some treats and use them as an incentive to work hard. You suspect bribery would work well with Grogu.

“He paid attention beautifully and he’s already doing so well with learning his letters, but he’s...he’s quite…” You try to think of the best way to say that the boy just can’t resist taking other children’s food.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Y/N. You can tell me.” You look Din in the eyes, deep brown meeting your own and sigh out before speaking.

“He likes to steal the other children’s food. I gave him my lunch and he still tried to steal Charlie’s cookies and Mary Beth’s macarons. I know he’s probably used to food being a thing he can just have since you’ve been travelling as a family unit…”

“Osik... I forgot to give him lunch. I am a terrible father…” Din looks at his feet, free hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw. You feel the instant need to reassure him.

“You’re not a terrible father. You just came into town this morning, immediately took on a job, and instantly went to work. You’re not a terrible father.” You hesitate, but reach forward anyway, a hand on his arm giving a quick reassuring squeeze.

“Vor entye, Y/N. Thank you. Have you eaten?”

“Oh…” You hadn’t really thought about it, that you’d given your food to Grogu to stop him going hungry and that you’d spent all day teaching with little more than the porridge you’d made yourself that morning to keep you going.

“Don’t even think about lying to the sheriff.” You did in fact consider lying to him, but the look he gave you reminded you of an overbearing mother hen who wouldn’t let you get away with it. Combined with the fact he was indeed the new sheriff, you felt it best to stick to the truth for now.

“No...I haven’t.” You admit, feeling suitably admonished by him and a little guilty for even considering lying about.

Din adjusts Grogu on his hip and nods his head behind him towards the street, “Come, I’ll buy you dinner at the café.”

“You don’t have to, Din. I can make dinner at home.” You think back to the soup you were going to make that night, and even though you haven’t the energy in truth to make dinner, you can’t ask him to buy you it. It is too much and unnecessary. Any good teacher would have made sure their students were fed.

“You kept my ad fed in place of yourself. I’m buying you dinner.” His voice left no room for argument and so you found yourself following after him across the street towards Reeva’s Café.

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Din’s presence in town becomes apparent very quickly. He does not allow the men to wander drunk through the streets, start fights, or harass women. He does not suffer law breakers or those who cause the peace to break. He is swift, effective, and there isn’t a member of town who doesn’t respect his authority even if some don’t particularly like having to listen to him.

For you it is a refreshing change. You don’t worry about the children wandering around town in the evenings or about walking out of your home at night. You don’t worry about your meager belongings being stolen or a fight breaking out in the saloon on an evening and ruining the few bits you have for the school.

He is quiet and polite, not much of a talker, but everything he does shows a man of honour and good morals. He is sweet with the children as well.

It had become common place for him, while waiting for the lumber to begin the schoolhouse, to come into the saloon while you were teaching. He said it was because the day time left little for him to do as sheriff, but you think he just enjoys helping with the children. They make him smile. A real smile.

Sometimes he just sits with his son on his lap and helps him with his letters, other times he wanders between tables helping those who need it or using his presence to quiet the children after an exciting lunch break. Reminding them to respect you, their teacher, and listen.

Your favourite, and the childrens’ favourite times were when he’d sit down and tell them stories of his travels. For a man who didn’t speak much, Din Djarin was a natural born storyteller.

That’s how you found yourself taking a step back, sitting on one of the saloon bar stools off to the side as Din took your place at the front of the class. He had an ability with the little ones that amazed you, none were ever scared of him despite his height, posturing or the guns holstered at his side and slung over his back. He always managed to make them smile and laugh, always got their curiosity going and inspired them equally. He made it a point whenever he talked to your class to share stories of both men and women he’d met who’d done amazing things, you could tell he was trying to get the girls in your class to see they could be more than housewives or washerwomen and you appreciated it.

“So there I am standing toe to toe with the biggest grizzly you’ve ever seen…” He gestures with his hands, standing at the front, arms out front to show just how large this grizzly bear was. His voice took on a different, more dramatic quality then normal. Grogu clapped his hands from his seat on your lap, the little boy having grown increasingly comfortable around you.

“Now this grizzly has to be 8ft standin’, and he’s the angriest bear you’ve ever seen and i’m sure that’s the end of me. I’m about to become a grizzly bear’s dinner, Sheriff Djarin stew!” You laugh along with the kids at the prospect of Din becoming stew for a grizzly bear, you’re never sure how much is fiction or truth in his stories, although part of you wouldn’t be surprised if they were all completely true. He was...he always seemed larger than life despite being so quiet. Like some sort of figure out of a western story.

“When out of nowhere, charging between me and this mean grizzly, comes the largest bull moose I've ever seen…”

“What’d you do?” Mary Beth pipes up, big blue eyes open wide.

“Well, I got the he-” He stops himself looking at you, you raise an eyebrow reminding him that cussing around the children would not do well for him, “-out of there as quickly as I could! One thing you should never do is stay around to fight a grizzly, never ends well to go toe to toe with one. That moose was being kind and giving me a chance to get away.” It amuses you that he always manages to twist a moral into the story. This time about kindness and helping those weaker than yourself, along with a healthy dose of not getting into situations with angry grizzly bears of course.

“Well, I think it’s time I let Miss Y/N, get on with her mathematics lesson.” Groans and grumbling rises up from your students as you place Grogu in his seat and begin making your way to the front. You watch Din frown at them, hands on his belt, leaning into one hip more than the other. He is the perfect picture of a disappointed father. Lips twisting downwards, pulling on his moustache.

“Hey, now! Miss Y/N always makes your lessons fun so don’t you start giving her trouble or else i’ll have to stop coming in for story time.” It’s a threat that promptly has them settling quietly in their chairs and getting their books and pencils out.

You rest a gentle hand on his arm when you reach him, quietly telling him thank you. It’s heavy with meaning. Thank you for being there for the children. Thank you for providing them with stories. Thank you for always settling them and reminding them to respect me. Thank you for thinking about the schoolhouse. Thank you for settling the town and keeping the peace.

He just nods at you with the smallest hint of a smile, enough to make you feel the tiniest bit flustered as you watch him walk to the chair where he’d left his hat, holsters, and lasso.

“Say goodbye to the sheriff, children.” You tell them as all of you watch him make his way to the doors. He stops before them and tips his hat at you all with a smile, but the moment he’s out the doors it drops and in his place is the hard sheriff who won’t stand for trouble.

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Once the lumber comes in and the plans have been drawn up and approved by yourself, at Din’s insistence, the work begins. The schoolhouse design had been run past you because Din didn’t want to miss anything that was needed or that would help you teach. He had told you not to worry about size, scale or cost, that the community was pitching in and that the mayor had found a fund tucked away somewhere for the school. The fund miraculously appeared after Din had a long meaningful chat with him.

He wouldn’t tell you that he’d made threats against the mayor about digging up some of his dirty laundry, but he had. The mayor had a lot of skeletons in his closet and also a nice stack of credits he was sitting on in his own personal mayoral vault. The fact that the mayor had been so reluctant to rebuild the schoolhouse when he easily could have almost made Din see red, but he didn’t think it would look good if he beat the man to the curb as sheriff. He was supposed to be upstanding and law abiding, if he wasn’t why would any of the townsfolk be?

A few days into the project you decided it was time you made good on your promise to come to the site during lunch time with the children to bring water and some food. You and the children collect pails of water and the baked goods you’d made the night before, trudging through the streets. You held Grogu on one hip, the small child the slowest of his classmates, and carried a heavy pail of water in the other, so heavy your shoulder slumped down on that side to accommodate the weight.

The children were happy to help, after all, many of their fathers and older brothers were working on the school site and it was a chance in the school day to see people they cared about. You were also sure they wanted to ask the sheriff a multitude of questions and beg for a story, but you’d reminded them that they weren’t there to get in the way or interrupt the work, just to offer food and water.

You’d reluctantly admitted to Reeva that you found the sheriff attractive, after the older woman badgered you day in and day out about the time you spent with him. You could admit he was handsome. His eyes were deep brown and spoke more words then he often did. He had both a look that could intimidate and also soften into something warm and safe. The beard and moustache he sported made him look ruggedly handsome and his shoulders were broad and wide. He looked like he’d stepped out of a story book or from an illustrated newspaper short story. Rugged but clean, dangerous but kind.

You had to admit though that this was your favourite look on him. As you came upon the building site he was busy sawing a plank of pine in two. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His suspenders had been flung off his shoulders, resting at sides no longer covering the strong back that was tensed as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, almost indecently so to show a pronounced collar bone, strong neck, and dark chest hair and the brown hair on his head had begun to curl from the sweat he was working up. It shouldn’t have been attractive. He should have looked like any other man working up a sweat, you shouldn’t have wanted to wipe his brow and brush your fingers through the curls of his hair. But you did.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself you look down at the little boy at your hip, “Should we go say hello to your father?”

“Papa!” He clapped his hands at you in confirmation. You’d slowly learnt that papa was one of the only words he said, you weren’t sure if he chose not to speak or simply couldn’t. But, given his increasing aptitude with writing his letters, you thought it likely that he simply chose not to speak.

The call instantly has Din’s head popping up from his work like a startled deer and you watch as his eyes roam across the children until he catches sight of his son at your hip. The smile that lights his face is so bright that it’s almost blinding, there is a longing you feel whenever you see his happiness to see Grogu. Some deep part of you that desires that sort of family bond. He loves his son so deeply, it doesn’t matter to him that their blood isn’t the same and part of you wants desperately to be part of that love and happiness.

“Children, hand out the food and water, will you? But be careful!” You remind them as they run towards familiar faces, it is still a building site after all, and the last thing you need is a child getting hurt in any way.

Din finishes sawing the plank before striding over to you, hand pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. You look...radiant. The summer sun shining over you, causing your skin to glow, your hair to shine. Your smile is as soft as your eyes and you're gentle in the way you hold his son to your hip, like he belonged there. Like the two of you belonged together. Din can admit that he enjoys your company more than he probably should, he can even admit that a part of him deeply desires you, wants you to join his family unit, become part of his aliit. You’re tender and kind to all the children you teach, your children as you often call them, and you’re incredibly kind to Grogu who you treat with more understanding than most school teachers ever would. You keep order in your classroom through kindness and mutual respect, not through fear or punishment. The maternal shine to you draws him to you in a way that, had he not been Mandalorian, he might be ashamed of. But, family is everything to him, Grogu is everything to him and if he is to put down roots here, he can’t help but consider putting down roots with you.

It’s a silly thought though, you’ve not known each other long and he isn’t well to do or gentlemanly. You’re far better educated than him, kinder than him, and it is a pipe dream that he doubts will ever come to fruition. It doesn’t help that he struggles at times to even talk to you, let alone make his feelings known.

“Miss me, Ad’ika?” He calls to the little boy, carefully pulling him from your arms when you offer him. If you allow yourself to, you can almost imagine he’s taking your own child from you, that the two of you have formed some sort of family. But, you are just his son’s teacher and he is just the sheriff of your small town.

The boy babbles at him, not real words, nonsense, or attempts at words that don’t translate, but you can see that improving. Can almost imagine what settling down here can do for the boy, give him a chance to learn, grow, make friends, and find some stability and safety.

“He’s been itching to come over all day, they all have. I was struggling to get them to focus on their history lesson.” You had 15 children all desperate to get out of the saloon and visit their fathers for lunch. It had been a...very difficult lesson to say the least and you still felt a little frazzled.

“History?” The boy tugs at his father’s hair and you watch him wince as he speaks, pulling little chubby hands from brown curls.

“The fall of the empire and the rise of the republic. Not the most riveting subject for them I'm sure, they much prefer when I tell them about different societies rather than politics.” You want to say like Mandalore and the Mandalorians because you want to draw him in, desperate to have more of his time even when he’s already doing so much for you. You enjoy the odd hour here and there when he takes over your class and becomes the teacher, where you can just sit and listen, learn yourself.

“Mandalorians believe that our history is our future. We learn it as soon as we can walk.”

“So it is Mando’a you’ve been speaking?” It warms you to see him open up to you like this. He is a private man, quiet, and insular. While he can yell with the best, and demand attention, can intimidate and even persuade, it’s all part of his job. The face he puts on as sheriff. He is quiet about himself, sharing little and not so often. You revel in the trust placed in you wherever he tells you a little something more about himself.

“You noticed?” Most people don’t even know Mando’a exists, let alone recognise that the words he slips into his speech are such. He finds they slip out more around you, than with others. He’s comfortable with, he is happy to share himself, his culture with you and it...it is a startling discovery about himself. He has been insular and closed off for longer than he would like to admit.

“I can’t speak it and I..I don’t know it well, but, I recognise the cadence. I grew up in Naboo and there was a Mandalorian there, she used to speak it when I would sit and practice my letters with her.” Atin’a Caivass was a kind woman to you even if she could be hard. She had been one of your teachers, always pushing you harder, to do better. Yet, it had never felt frustrating or like a chore, the Mandalorian had always made it a desire to impress her, but also to prove to yourself that you could. She had always been kind to you and the other children, gentle but firm, like you were one of her own. You saw similarities with how Din treated the children. He was kind and gentle, but never overlooked an opportunity to firmly correct their behaviour or mistakes. A perfect balance. Not too soft and not too harsh.

“You never learnt?”

“She was very protective of it and I...I was always too afraid to ask.” You confess. You had always been fascinated with it, like any young child when faced with a new language, but you had always believed it something sacred, and had worried that you would offend her if you asked to learn. “Ad’ika? What does it mean?”

He can’t help but laugh at your pronunciation and sounds it out for you, “Ah-Dee-Kah, it means little one.”

“Ah-dee-kuh?” You are even more beautiful, he thinks when you butcher his language, trying so hard to get it right that your eyebrows scrunch together and your eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Ah-Dee-Kah” The little one squirms in his arms and he places him on the ground, only to watch him plunk himself on his bottom and play with the dirt. He had always had a fascination with dirt and rocks, more so than any of the toys he had actually brought or made him.

“Ah-Dee-Kah”

“Perfect.” You smile blindingly at his praise and he wonders if he can forgo his job as sheriff and simply teach you Mando’a every minute of every day. “You can always ask. If you want to learn. It’s nice to hear it from another person’s lips, not just mine.”

“I would like that very much...maybe when you’re less busy? You’re rather booked up at the moment, what with being sheriff, storytime for the children, and building a schoolhouse. You’re a busy man, Din Djarin.”

“I like to keep my hands busy.” You look down at your feet before looking back up at him, unsure how to respond to what you were sure was meant as a perfectly innocent comment. Din almost swears, osik, once he realises how that sounds, lifting hand to the back of his neck to rub it.

The silence that you fall into isn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but feels almost solid, like a physical thing and not just the quiet that comes with two people not talking for a moment. There’s a tension there that is not wholly unpleasant but hard to describe or pin down.

Seeming to remember the pail of water you’re carrying you place it in front of him, “Water, so you can clean off or if you’re thirsty. There’s some pastries somewhere as well, to keep you all fed...Can’t have you keeling over on us or else we’d never get our schoolhouse.”

You take a step back and cast your gaze around, making note of where each of your 15 kids are. You’re caught watching Jerome splash water on Annie, about to go and tell him off when you hear splashing much closer to you.

You thought he couldn’t excite you more than he already had. Thought that Din Djarin couldn’t possibly tempt you more, cause your well-mannered sensibilities to crumble further. You were utterly, terribly, ridiculously wrong.

There’s something to be said about the man pouring half a pail of water over his head to rub away the sweat and dirt from a hard day working in the summer sun. He flicks his head back, long neck outstretched as water droplets fall like mirror glass over his tanned skin. His hair sticks to his skin, kissing it in a way you realise you desperately want to and his shirt clings to broad shoulders with the familiarity of a lover.

You spin back around away from him flustered, determined not to look as you march towards Jerome. You decide in that moment that perhaps it’s best not to bring pails of water at lunch time. You might just not survive to see the school built.

---------------------

For the next two months your routine features lunch time trips with the children to bring water and sometimes food to the men building the schoolhouse, and the odd afternoon story time hour when Din feels confident enough to leave the others to continue working without his guidance. Each day the schoolhouse comes together more and more and each day you fall a little bit more in...in whatever these feelings for the sheriff were.

You also have the startling realisation that Grogu has wormed his little way into your heart in a way that none of your other students have. You have a soft spot for the little boy, especially as he becomes more vocal, begins to say more little words, including the delightful name ‘Miss Y/N’.

Din is a temptation in himself, each time he teaches you another word or phrase in Mando’a and his lips wrap around syllables or every time he works hard to build the schoolhouse muscles pulling taut underneath the weight of wood. He tempts you in a way that no one ever has and you can’t quite explain what it is about this man that makes you desire to be in his presence, to kiss him, to hold him, to be close to him both physically and emotionally. You want to know everything about him, to understand him better than you understand yourself.

In some ways it is a relief when the schoolhouse is finished and in other ways it feels like a loss. Part of your routine, part of the day where you always see Din was no longer needed or necessary.

When you bring the children over at lunch time, it’s to show them the finished building, the one they’ll be in come Monday morning once you have the time to move all the books and other odds and ends into it. They’re all excited as are you, to see it...it strikes you in the heart so badly that you can’t move your feet, can only stare at the building with tears in your eyes.

It’s beautiful. Not large, but larger than the old one. Freshly painted white, with a school bell hanging out front. It strikes you that this isn’t just a schoolhouse, but it’s your schoolhouse. Din had been adamant about building it for you.

“Children, why don’t you go inside and take a look? You’ll be here on Monday!” You wave them all off as they run ahead and up the wooden steps, throwing the door open none too gently. “Careful! We only just got it!” You call out and receive a series of sorries back.

“Shall we go find your buir?” You look down at Grogu, who’s hand is holding the heavy fabric of your skirt. He smiles up at you and nods his head with a quick little ‘papa’ that has your heart warming.

You hear him before you see him, “Now don’t go breaking the tables when we’ve only just put them together, girls!” Already laying down the law to 3 of your children as you enter the schoolhouse. They had seemingly been swinging on tables in a most ill-mannered fashion that has you putting on your teacher-face and raising an eyebrow at them from behind Din. They promptly stop and return their feet to the floor with an abashed look.

“Sorry, Sheriff. Sorry Miss.” They call to you both before scurrying away in hopes of avoiding punishment, leaving you, Din and Grogu alone in the main room for the building. You let it go. It isn’t an issue, they need to learn to respect things, and not damage them, but that does not have to come at the cost of punishment when a quick look and a reminder does enough.

Din spins at them calling out to you, faster than he seems to have expected, looking decidedly dizzy for a second before the mask of sheriff falls right back into place.

“Y/N, how do you like it?” He opens his arms wide and gestures to the main room of the schoolhouse. A large blackboard already nailed to the wall at the back, rows of tables and chairs set up so every child could see you. A desk at the front for your things. It is sweet and fits your needs infinitely better than a saloon ever would. You even note the bookcases along the walls, enough space to place many of your books for the children to have easy access for when they wish to learn something more than you could teach them.

“It’s...it’s wonderful, Din. It’s beautiful. I...I can’t thank you enough...I...I’m a little lost for words.” You can feel the happy tears starting to pool in your eyes again, the gratitude making you a little bit emotional. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this.”

“You...you don’t need to repay me, Mesh’la. This...you and the children deserve a school, a place to teach and learn. You don’t have to thank me or repay me for doing what the damn mayor should have done in the first place.”

You nearly don’t do it. Nearly let that fear that wells up inside you and the proper manners, the belief that you were about to be far too forward than was ladylike, stop you. But, you think back to his kindness, his gentle nature, the calm and order he’s brought to town. The son of his that you have a large soft spot for. The handsomeness of his features, the sharpness of his profile. The gentle hand he always places on your back as he helps escort you somewhere. The respect he shows you at every turn and his willingness to share his culture and upbringing with you. You think of all the things that make up the Din Djarin you know and you think of what he has come to mean to you.

With a silent prayer and an apology to your late headmistress for being more forward than is ladylike, you push yourself forward and into him. Lips soft and chaste lifting to meet his, only briefly. You do not push for more than a second of contact, but it is enough, you hope, to get the thought and intent across. That he is someone you would like to get to know more, that he is someone you could happily be courted by, even marry one day.

He doesn’t even have time to blink, it happens so fast. One minute you are standing a few steps away from him thanking him, the next your lips are pressed to his in the shortest sweetest kiss he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. It takes another second for him to realise what’s happened before he’s reaching a hand out to cup the nape of your neck and drag your lips back to his for a significantly more substantial kiss that leaves you a little breathless.

When you pull away from each other you don’t go far. Din presses his forehead to yours, hawkish nose pressing into your cheek, a soft touch that grounds you with his presence. The hand at your neck, rubs a soothing thumb across your skin. Your own have chosen to grasp at the suspenders over his shoulders, to keep in close proximity.

“I’d very much like to court you, Miss Y/N.”

“I think i’d like that, sheriff.”

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Mando’a Translations

Meg Ba'jurir - roughest way I could get to someone who educates or a teacher with meg being who and ba’jurir being educate

Osik - Shit

Vor entye - Thank You

Ad - son

Ad’ika - Little one, term of endearment for small children

Buir - Father also Mother basically parent.

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Aliit - Family (Clan)

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Taglist for this fic:

@lex-ham

#din djarin x reader #din djarin / reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #reader insert #readerinsert #western au #putting down roots #din djarinxreader #din djarin/reader #female reader #female identifying reader

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lueurnotes · 3 years

Text

Kissing Din

based on this ask

Din Djarin/Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: blood mention, canon-typical violence, sexual situations, nudity

a/n: been a minute since I posted!! hope everyone is doing well <3

In Hyperspace.

You were sleepily rocking Grogu against your chest in the co-pilot seat. The little one was already fast asleep, a small snore coming from the bundle of cloth. The cabin was dimmed, with the small blinking control lights glittering through your sleepy haze. Hyperspace washed over you in blue-white streaks of light that kept you from falling asleep. Despite the rest that pulled at you, there wasn’t anywhere else in the Maker-forsaken galaxy that you’d rather be. Safe next to your partner with his son fast asleep on your lap.

It’s been an incredible journey together. Only a few short months yet so much has happened. Fixing up the Crest when you were all stranded on an icy, krykna-infested planet. Patching up Din whenever he returned, staggering into the hull. Giggling with the kid in your lap as he pushed your tools around. The memories you shared with this clan were few but your heart ached like it was forever.

A rustling sound coming from the pilot’s chair got your attention. Hm?

“Close your eyes,” Din hushed.

You obliged, more than happy to shut your sleepy eyes. Frequent hyperspace travel never did get easier for you.

The sound of his helmet hitting the metal floor of the cockpit nearly caused them to snap back open.

“Din what are you—”

A bare hand traced your face and you tried to fight the shudder that wracked your body. The warmest hands cradled your face upwards, a thumb brushing across your parted lips. The mere thought that Din was bare-faced inches from you... Your mind kicked into hyperdrive.

“Please,” the hushed whisper fell from his mouth, stilted breath ghosting right over your panting lips. The voice you seldom heard unmodulated was steeped with longing. One word spilled into a sentence.

“I want to kiss you.”

Your face broke into the sweetest grin he had ever seen. Really seen.

“Like you even have to ask,” you shifted your body upwards, heart racing as your lips finally met.

On Tatooine.

The blaring wind outside rocked the Razor Crest in it’s docked spot. Some dusty backwater place you could absolutely care less about. You spat out some lingering dust into the sink.

The little one was dropped off at Peli’s, which meant whoever this bounty was they were high-risk for Din.

Not a lot of people made that list.

Also meant that maybe you shouldn’t be blasting music throughout the ship, but kriff you were bored. It’s been a couple days at this point and you were told to “lay low”. Din didn’t say anything about music though. Plus, the Razor Crest was a well-fortified gal. Sure, a couple of bits flew off here and there and the hyperdrive could use some work, but whatever was in the armory could ward off any sane being in the galaxy.

The muffled sound of your playlist could be heard through the refresher door, jumping to full clarity as you exited. You broke into a grin, hips swaying as you sang the words loud. I wonder if Tin Can ever sings? You burst out laughing at the thought of the sound of scratchy-modulated humming. The man hardly talks as it is. I’d bet the Maker that he has a worse voice than me.

“Something funny?”

Crap.

You yelped, in a certainly dignified manner, you hope, “Mando! Glad to see you back home.”

Home?! Oh my stars, I’m done for.

The slightest tilt of his helmet let you know that he definitely heard you. He continued, “If you’re done using the comms, can you let Karga know we’re on our way?”

“Or we could just, you know, not do that,” a voice strained.

You finally focused on the bounty that Mando dragged back, a young twi’lek man with deep, blue skin. He wore a similarly draped sand-colored cloth you saw the locals wore. Arm wrappings covered to his wrist where there was no dirt under his fingernails. Your eyes wandered to his shoes, a type of thicker sandal with cording to attach… Yep, definitely not from here.

You smiled back at Mando, “Gotcha, Captain!”

“Wait!” The twi’lek croaked out, “Please, you can’t let him take me!”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, chancing a look at Mando’s visor as if to say can you believe this dude?

“Fine, I’ll bite.” You leaned on one hip, “Why should my partner and I not take in a bounty that we have been searching for I don’t know … ” you counted your fingers, “six days? Explain.”

And here come the waterworks.

He wailed, still on his knees next to Mando as he groveled, “It’s a false bounty! I was framed and I didn’t know what to do but run,” he looked at the carbonite cases, eyes growing larger when he saw their blank gazes frozen wide, “I swear to the Maker you’ve got it wrong!”

You bent down to his level, hushing him as you gently rested your hand on his cheek, “Are you implying that my partner is wrong? That he is being dishonest with me?”

Your wide eyes fell on Mando who stood unmoving. You turned back to the bounty before you could notice his hand clenching into a fist as you touched the other man.

The twi’lek silently nodded, tears slipping over his hairless face.

“Well you’ll be sure to know that I loathe liars,” you nodded solemnly, “Especially if it’s to my face.”

He opened his mouth to say something, sharply gasping as a blue ring of light exited your blaster. He slumped over, mouth still gaping open.

You looked back up at Din, catching him as he adjusted his pants. Smirking, you stepped over the bounty until you were standing right in front of Din, feeling the heat of his body past the beskar. Extending your arms up, you rested your hands on his pauldrons, hand tracing the Mudhorn signet. Gingerly, you placed your palms up just under Din’s ice-cold helmet, eyes questioning. He gave a simple nod, bringing his gloved hands to wrap around yours.

“I missed you,” you tilted the beskar upwards just the slightest amount, exposing a sliver of skin that was roughened with stubble. You tiptoed upwards and placed a short peck on him.

“It’s good to be home,” he gruffed out.

Keldabe

The overpowering scent of blood filled your mouth and nostrils. Tears tracked down your face as you let out a groan, spitting to the left of the man you just knocked out. You rolled over to lie back on the gritty pavement of the alleyway, uncaring of the unconscious man next to you. Somewhere down the dim alley, you could hear the distinct clang of metal against metal as Din fought the other bounty. The sound of a single blaster shot followed by a muffled yelp was the end of that.

Never bring a vibroblade to a blaster fight.

Your head pounded as you fought the urge to laugh out loud. You were lying next to a man that was set on killing you. You were pretty sure Din just shot the other one in the leg. And on top of that you were probably one wrong head turn from unconsciousness.

Din’s shadow suddenly looming over you snapped the cord and you burst in giggles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, immediately bending down to run his hands over any area that got impacted.

“You should have seen the other guy,” you winced as he grazed over your ribs.

“Looking at him right now,” he deadpanned, “Good work. But I’d prefer if my partner would ask for help if they need it.”

He pulled you up, half resting in his lap as your legs splayed out in front of you. Instantly, you curled towards the cold beskar, seeking the warmth past it.

“Hey Mando?”

“Yes?” He said lowly.

“M’head hurts,” you slurred, “Kiss me better.”

You couldn’t see it, but he smiled under his helmet. Even with the absolute shit knocked out of you, you still wanted his attention. Kriffing adorable.

He obliged, head tilting down so he could rest his helmet against your forehead. His eyes closed underneath, savoring the moment.

“Ah,” you sighed, “Much better.”

“Are you using me as an ice pack?”

“Maybe,” you whispered.

He let out a breathy chuckle before drawing away, “Come on, let’s get back to the ship so we can take a nap.”

A kiss on the thigh

Several months ago when you first started co-piloting for Din, you never would have thought that the Razor Crest could be anything but damn near freezing.

This heat was something else. Panting breaths exhaling hot air. The blazing touch that seared across your thighs as Din hovered over you. Even your skin was starting to dampen in the cramped cot.

“Cyar’ika,” he groaned, “Look at you.”

You opened your eyes, glancing down at yourself pressed so deliciously against Din. He was right there. Biting your lip, you tried to grind against him, only for Din to pinch at your thighs in warning. He continued his teasing, rubbing tenderly at your heated skin.

Your back arched under his ministrations. Din was taking his time during the reprieve of a lengthy hyperspace pass, massaging enticingly at your thighs, touching everywhere but where you needed him most.

Twelve hours.

You moaned, “Kriff, stop teasing, Din.” You writhed under his hold, your thighs pinned down by just his hands. How does he feel so good without doing anything?

“No, I don’t think I’m going to stop.”

You gasped as he replaced his hands with his mouth, bending down to suck harshly at the inside of your thigh. Din licked at the sensitive spot, satisfied as he looked up at your panting face.

“You look fucking pretty like this.”

A kiss on the hand

"Glove,” you commanded, “now.”

Din put a hand on his hip. “You don’t need good luck right now,” He jutted his head toward the distant tree trunk that was today’s target, “Just hit it.”

You rolled your eyes, making sure he saw. Like, really saw. You swore up and down that he lacked actual peripheral vision because it was always you that caught the little one getting into places he absolutely should not be. The armory being one of them. You shuddered, finger flicking the safety on as you remembered that very eventful day.

“Focus,” he intoned, “You’re in your head.”

You cursed to yourself, flicking the safety back off. Raising your arm smoothly, your eyes followed the barrel of your blaster.

Tree, damn it. Let me hit you.

Your eyes shut for a split second as you squeezed the trigger. A slight burst of energy shifted your hand half an inch. No sound of impact.

You looked at the tree in dismay.

The stump was definitely still there, not like it could dodge blaster bolts. Even if it could move, it wouldn’t have to avoid anything. The patch of brush next to it though? Thoroughly burnt.

“And this is why I train close combat,” you patted at your vibroblade strapped to your thigh.

“This is why you need practice,” Din moved next to you as you holstered your blaster, “Here.” He held his bare hand out to you, glove clutched in his left.

“Thank you,” you mumbled. Gingerly, you grasped onto his hand with both of yours, thumbs tracing across his bruised knuckles. Din gave the slightest tilt in acknowledgement. You brought his warm hand right to your face, breaking out into a smile.

“I’m gonna get it for sure this time,” you said before placing a small kiss on his hand, “Now put that glove back on and watch me hit this damn target.”

Din chuckled as he backpedaled a few steps, looking on as you drew your blaster, aiming perfectly at the tree.

Breathe. You got this. It’s a completely immobile target. You thought to yourself.

You squeezed the trigger and with a loud crack, the stump had a glaring split right down the middle where your bolt hit true.

“Stars, yes!” You shouted in glee. Deftly turning the safety back on, you holstered the blaster and ran to Din, his arms already opening to wrap around you.

“Knew you could do it,” he said, pulling you in lightly so the beskar wouldn’t bite into your skin.

“Does this mean I can try out the rest of your armory?”

“No.”

#hi it's been a while lol #lueur writes #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #Pedro Pascal #din djarin fanfiction #also this is out of order bc I'm fun like that

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dindjarindiaries · 3 years

Text

In Defense of The Mandalorian Season Two

A look into how the writing of season two actually reflects the same writing as the original trilogy, most notably The Empire Strikes Back.

DISCLAIMER: This post is in no way trying to refute the opinions of others! I know that, to many, the writing of season two was a let down. I’m simply here to share my opinion on why I thought it was well done, but I’m very open to critiques and discussions (as long as they’re started with good intentions).

Below the cut, I’ll be discussing the similarities of the plot/story’s structure to that of The Empire Strikes Back, how season two acts as a bridge between seasons, and the “dropped” items that many have been concerned with.

SEASON TWO AND THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK: DEVELOPMENT AND SETUP

One of the biggest critiques I’ve seen about season two is that it set up a lot of major opportunities for the development of the story and Din and never went in depth on those. Some of these things include Din being told he’s in a cult called the Children of the Watch, the acquisition of the Darksaber, and the removal of his helmet. These are all things we caught glimpses and hints of, but we never saw any resolution for—not even any processing from Din. This left many feeling unsatisfied by the end of the season.

Much like how viewers must’ve felt at the end of The Empire Strikes Back, prior to the release of Return of the Jedi.

This sounds like a stretch, doesn’t it? But hear me out:

A BIG REVELATION: Din realizes that other Mandalorians can remove their helmets and that Mandalore may not be cursed after all. Similarly, Luke finds out he’s the son of Darth Vader. Neither one of these things is mentioned again in their respective season/movie.

A BIG QUESTION MARK: Din doesn’t know where Grogu’s being taken for training or how to contact Luke again and we also don’t know where he’s at in terms of his “helmet rule.” Similarly, Han Solo is sitting in enemy hands, captured and frozen in carbonite with an unknown fate by the time the movie ends.

IN MEDIA RES: Din’s just found out that he’s now the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore as he wields the Darksaber and we know this is something he’ll have to acknowledge later. Similarly, Luke’s been training as a Jedi been abandoned his training to save his friends, leaving his status as a Jedi Knight unknown but hinted at being finished later down the line.

As you can see, both season two and TESB ended with huge things that were just... left there. We never get to see how they’re resolved or how exactly the characters will deal with all this information that’s been thrown at them. Instead, we’re left with the shadow of their consequences, feeling as if we’re being left on the edge of our seats.

Evidently, this plays out much differently in a show than it does in a movie because there’s a broader range of screen time/story time. That’s why some of these revelations have to come earlier in the season than they would in a movie. The timeline of season two is short as it is; truly, as far as we know, the whole thing takes place over just a few days. Naturally, then, it makes sense that Din wouldn’t have been processing events very quickly—especially with everything he has to do for Grogu at the forefront of his mind.

The idea with both these pieces is the long-run. We’re not looking at the story over just one season/movie anymore like we did with season one of The Mandalorian and A New Hope. This is going into something so much bigger and we’re truly only in the rising action of it all. We have to look past just this season and to the overall picture of Din’s story. If we got all the answers this season, there wouldn’t be much to work with in season three, especially in terms of Din’s character development. The foreshadowing with these season two events is setting up so much potential for Din’s character to be focused on as much as ever in season three, which—as a huge Din Djarin fan—is so exciting to me!

SEASON TWO AS A BRIDGE

Season three was confirmed by Giancarlo Esposito (Moff Gideon) before season two even released. Thus, it’s obvious that in the minds of the crew, season two is a stepping stone to the future of the story. If season one was the setup of our smaller story, then season two is the beginning of the larger one. The Mandalorian universe is expanding and thus the time that the story takes must also grow with it.

We can expect that all the big ideas season two set up—Din questioning his Way, starting to remove his helmet in front of others, earning the Darksaber, etc.—will be explored in more depth in the coming seasons. While the main goal of season two was still to return Grogu to his people (which did happen!), it also started to give us hints as to what’s coming for Din’s character and story. After all, this show is called The Mandalorian. It’s about time we learn more about that character and not just his relationship with Grogu, as touching as that part of him is!

BUT WHAT ABOUT...?

THE SILVER BALL?

The silver ball has been a very touching symbol of Din and Grogu’s connection ever since season one. It’s made appearances in Chapter 3: The Sin, Chapter 6: The Prisoner, Chapter 13: The Jedi, and Chapter 14: The Tragedy. In Chapter 3, it was a symbol of how Din’s feelings towards Grogu changed during the episode, where he initially denied him access to the silver ball and then later offered it to him to play with. Yet again in season one we see Din give the ball to Grogu after his run-in with the gang. Then, we don’t see it again until Grogu takes it himself in Chapter 13 and it becomes the very thing that gets Grogu to willingly use the Force, especially with Din’s help.

While this all hints at the silver ball being a key symbol in their relationship, it’s not something that’s been absolutely imperative to their bond. It wasn’t brought up again in either season finale, much to many’s displeasure particularly in season two. I think the reason why Din ends up keeping it is because:

It gives him something to remember Grogu by.

Other than the beskar spear, it’s the only piece of the Crest Din has left.

My prediction is that, should Din buy another ship/a new model of the Crest, he may be able to put the ball in that ship—and then when he reunites with Grogu, his son will be very excited upon spotting it in Din’s new ship. Had Grogu taken it, Luke might’ve taken it away from him, too, because the little womp rat was obviously very distracted by it whenever he had it!

THE MYTHOSAUR NECKLACE?

Yet again, the Mythosaur necklace is a touching symbol of Din and Grogu’s bond. It only makes one appearance in the entire show, though—Chapter 8: Redemption. Not once is it even mentioned before or after. We only see it twice in that episode: first when Din’s dying and he hands it to Cara and second when Din realizes Grogu has it and is chewing on it.

I’m not sure the necklace was meant to have as much weight as we gave it. I believe it might’ve just been a symbol of the fact that Din’s finally accepted Grogu as his foundling, just as Din once was himself. I assume Grogu still has the necklace tucked under his robes and that’s why we don’t see it again in season two. But the fact that it only appeared very briefly in one episode means that it most likely was just a one-and-done idea, which is much different than something like the silver ball.

GROGU NOT WANTING TO LEAVE DIN AND VICE VERSA?

One of the biggest themes of this season was letting go. For Din, it was letting go of his fear over Grogu’s safety and the restrictions of his Way. For Grogu, it was letting go of his fear over using his powers and his deep attachment to Din. While obviously leaving each other was not ideal for either one of them, in the end, it’s what they had to do. Din had to do what was best for Grogu, which was to let him train so he can control his powers. Grogu had to train so Din wouldn’t be risking his life so much to protect him and so he could abandon his fear of leaving his father.

Evidently, by the time they’re saying goodbye, it’s bittersweet—because Din’s proud of Grogu and Grogu’s determined/excited to train, but they’re both obviously going to miss each other. But truly, this is where the season’s been leading us. We had hopes they might stay together, but ultimately, Grogu needs to be trained!

IN CONCLUSION

This season left a lot of unanswered questions—because it wanted to. These weren’t plot holes. These were moments of foreshadowing for later, when Din and Grogu began to have their development on their own rather than together. A big lesson we learned from season one is that every moment of screen time counts. The same goes for season two. We can expect every untied thread from season two to be tied off by the time the series ends—whether that be in season three or season four.

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian season two #din djarin #the empire strikes back #discourse

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captainkappa · 3 years

Text

Fanfic:: Falling

Besides, leaving means going back to an empty ship. Leaving means counting down the days until he saw Grogu again. Leaving means counting down until he could come with a good enough excuse to come back to Tatooine.

Din doesn’t want to leave. Not just yet.

AO3 Link

Do you remember this post I wrote about Din Cobb going to see Space Cherry Blossoms? Well I wrote a whole fic about it! It’s pure fluff and pining, I hope you enjoy!

And a huge thanks to @staranon95 for betaing!

-=-=-=-=-=-

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

Din hasn’t meant to offer it. He knows that opening that gate would open others, but in the shade of Din’s new ship the Mudhorn , Cobb leaning against his speeder to say good-bye, it slips out. During the job this time, Cobb had finally put into words Din had suspected, that he’d had never been off Tatooine, which isn’t that surprising when you consider the culture of Tatooine is scraping by for your next meal.

Cobb freezes for a moment. “You sure? You don’t have someplace to be?”

“No, I can spare a few.”

He’s not wrong. He’s not on contract from the guild, he probably has a couple of days before Bo-Katan contacts him again for the saber, his calendar is blissfully free. Besides, leaving means going back to an empty ship. Leaving means counting down the days until he saw Grogu again. Leaving means counting down until he could come with a good enough excuse to come back to Tatooine.

Din doesn’t want to leave. Not just yet.

The smile that Cobb has threatens to blind him. “Alright, lemme comm the town, tell them I’ll be back a little later.”

Cobb steps away and Din takes this as his chance to take a breath. He’s doing this, he’s just going to bring Cobb up to see a brand new planet then back to Tatooine before Mos Pelgo can miss him.

That’s it.

He lowers the ramp and packs up the supplies he got while on planet. It’s busy work that he can use to distract himself from thinking about how Cobb fought today, ruthless in the face of the slaver camp they came across, how the new durasteel armor hugs him in all the right places. Taking inventory should prevent his thoughts from drifting to how Cobb tilts his head back to laugh, the way he smiles when he gets an idea, and how he held out his hand to help Din up after the fight was over.

That is, until a thought pops into his head. Not only a thought, a planet, a planet he thinks he might want to show Cobb, someone who’s only used to the sand plains of Tatooine. He none so gently kicks the final crate into the hold before going to the cockpit. He plugs the coordinates in, just to see how the hyperspace lanes look.

He blinks at the screen showing them optimal for a quick trip. No traffic, no anomalies sending them off course. It’s the perfect storm for space travel.

He glances at Cobb, still talking with Jo or Issa-Or. He turns back and pulls out a busted datapad and checks one more thing about the planet in mind.

He was right; it’s peak season.

He leans back in his chair, allowing himself to be selfish and look at Cobb. Is this the Force? He’s had conversations with his son’s teachers since he got his frequency and he still doesn’t understand it entirely, but is this what the Force is? Pulling him to this conclusion that it’d be a crime to pass on the opportunity?

His thought process is interrupted by Cobb’s light steps up the ramp. His eyes wander the whole breadth of the ship, drinking it all in, before finally landing on him. His gaze is so bright, Din has to fight the urge to fidget.

“Alright, so what’s the plan, partner? Quick trip up and down?

“Actually, if you have time,” he starts, sounding more confident than he feels, “there’s a planet not too far away we could visit.”

Cobb tears his gaze away from the hull to look at him, eyes full of restrained emotion.

“Really?”

Din swallows, not knowing why his throat feels so dry. “Yeah. There’s a hyperspace lane freed up. Two hours there and back.”

“That easy?” And Cobb clamps his lips shut and Din can see where he’s coming from. The freedom of space is enticing. He’d be lying if there hadn’t been a day or two in his youth when he just wanted to forgo a bounty to just explore.

He nods, giving Cobb the time to consider.

“Two hours?” he parrots and Din nods again. Cobb considers this for only a moment before saying, “Ah, what the hell, once in a lifetime opportunity, right?”

“Alright.” Din hopes Cobb can’t tell how hard he’s smiling as he starts up the ship.

The ship rumbles beneath his feet, a familiar sensation. Cobb, on the other hand, jumps five feet out of his seat when the ship around them starts to move.

“Sorry,” Din says before Cobb can get a word in edgewise. Should’ve thought of that. “I’m gonna have us start climbing now, okay?”

Cobb manages a nod. Din pulls up on the controls and the ship is airborne. He lets the control tower know they’re leaving before pushing the ship to accelerate to break the atmosphere. He keeps turning his head to face Cobb, whose eyes are plastered to the viewport.

This time he warns Cobb what he’s doing, trying to remember how it felt the first time he entered hyperspace.

“It might… feel weird,” he explains as he plugs in the hyperspace coordinates.

Cobb snorts. “Very descriptive, partner, thank you kindly for the warning.”

Din huffs out a laugh before pulling the lever back, watching as the familiar blues of hyperspace fill the cockpit window. There’s a sudden gasp from his left and he turns to look at Cobb, to make sure he’s okay.

He hasn’t been expecting tears. Silent, quiet tears falling down Cobb’s cheeks. It makes Din’s throat close up with want. What he wants, he’s not sure. Want to bring Cobb with him? Cobb wouldn’t want that with his roots already set down in Tatooine; the politics of Mandalore wouldn’t appeal to him.

Or at least, that’s what Din tells himself, avoiding any consideration of the opposite because what if it wasn’t that Cobb wouldn’t leave Tatooine, but that he wouldn’t leave with Din .

Din has had too much heartbreak for one lifetime. He doesn’t think he could handle much more.

He tells Cobb he’s free to wander the ship, but Cobb just nods, eyes transfixed. Din settles in himself. He’ll leave the cockpit if Cobb asks, but he really hopes he doesn’t.

-=-

As predicted, the flight is short and soon they are out of hyperspace. From space, the planet is a motley of colors, but Din angles for the dot of pink that grows larger and larger as they enter the atmosphere. Cobb’s eyes never leave the viewport as the planet widens before their eyes, details coming into focus. First, its coastlines, then mountains that disappear with the curve of the planet, then the natural borders of biomes, then thick forests of multicolored trees, until they arrive at the patch Din had thought of.

They touch down on a flat patch of earth, no official landing strip for miles. Din flicks the last switch before turning to Cobb. His eyes haven’t left the window, hands in fists in his lap.

“Cobb?”

Cobb jumps, turning to his voice.

“Are you ready?”

Cobb blinks. “We can head on the planet? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Din says, standing up. “There’s no major space port here, mostly uninhabited on this side. We’re not breaking any laws.”

The other man chuckles. “Not worked about law breakin’.”

“Then c’mon. There’s more to see.”

He nods and falls in step with Din, wide eyes never leaving the tops of the trees. Din allows himself a moment to look as well. The trees stand at least another person taller than both of them, branches full of fluffy bright pink blooms. Even with the branches looking as full as they are, there’s a thick carpet of pink under their feet, decompressing with every step.

Cobb finally breaks his silent awe. “Are they…always this color?”

Din shakes his head. “The flowers fall and grow back a different color for each season. Last time I was here they were blue.”

Cobb breaks away from their twinned steps to walk up closer to one of the trees. Din watches as he feels the bark between his fingers, reaches up to feel the silky textures of the petals and Din’s heart seizes with what could be; traveling together and visiting planets Cobb could never conceive of. Din wants to hand the galaxy to Cobb and ask where he wants to go, because if there is one person who deserves a little reverence and adventure, it’s Cobb, who cares so much for the people around him but so little for himself.

“Wait for me,” Din says, as he nearly loses sight of the man.

“We just landed on an alien planet, and you want me to wait?”

“Don’t want to lose track of you. I could easily mistake you for a tree.”

Cobb snorts, pushing on one of his pauldrons before breaking away, keeping a closer distance this time.

A breeze blows through and shakes the branches, loose petals are thrown into the air, twisting and twirling in the air, but Din only has eyes for Cobb. Cobb, with eyes wide, head tilted up to try and take it all in. Gentle pink petals catch in gray hair and that red scarf and Din can barely breathe for a second.

“It’s beautiful,” Cobb says, his gaze to the sky.

“Yeah,” Din says, eyes never leaving Cobb.

Cobb’s eyes sweep the valley before stopping on him.

He stifles a laugh. “I think you have some petals in your…”

Din looks down and sees the petals have caught in the junctures of his armor.

“Here, lemme help you.”

Din looks up and Cobb is suddenly much closer, fingers brushing in the spaces between armor, where the flight suit suddenly feels as thin as silk for all it keeps out the heat of Cobb’s fingers.

“There we go,” Cobb says with one last brush of his fingers.

“You too.” Pink dots Cobb’s salt and pepper hair. Before Cobb can move and before Din can properly think his actions through, he’s bringing gloved hands up to Cobb to gently brush the petals away. He’s thought of this before, but without the gloves on, hands lingering in the gray strands, wanting to know if they’re as soft as they lookl, or are there grains of sand lost between them?

Cobb’s eyes close for a moment and Din takes the second to drink him all in, at the freckle under his eye, the way his hair has shifted in the breeze. It’s only for a second before he’s looking into familiar hazel again.

And Din realizes just how close they’ve gotten.

“C’mon,” Din says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out rougher than he anticipates, “One thing I want to show you.”

Cobb’s face breaks into a familiar grin. “Something else? Mando, I’m startin’ to feel spoiled.”

You deserve it.

Din takes a step back, nodding, before gesturing to follow him. He leads them through the seemingly endless forest, guided by muscle memory of the last time a bounty brought him here and his HUD showing how the terrain changes.

It’s a short walk from where Din remembers it, the lake where he finally caught that bounty. The water is covered in petals so that it nearly blends in with the ground. Din pauses just before the ground turns to mud. He turns to explain the circumstances of finding the place, when he realizes Cobb is still walking forward.

“Wait!” Din throws out a hand to grab him by the elbow pulling him back. Cobb is immediately on alert, thinking there’s something dangerous. Instead of explaining, Din pulls a rock from the ground and throws it into the lake in front of them. The impact sends the petals on the surface rocking in the waves, revealing the dirty green water they had been covering.

Cobb blinks, staring at the ripples.

“Maker,” he whispers. “I ain’t never seen that much water, let alone covered like that.”

Din nods. Silence descends like the falling flowers as he lets Cobb explore the area, throw more stones into the lake, and watch how the petals shift on the lake.

Suddenly Din is reminded of something his buir taught him, back before the covert had relocated to Nevarro, when they were on a grassy planet with what felt like a million lakes.

He looks down at the shoreline and it doesn’t take long to find what he’s looking for.

“Cobb!” His head snaps up, rock slipping from his fingers to crash near his feet. Din bites back the smile on his face as he says, “Watch this.”

He crouches down, curls his finger around the flat rock in his hand, and lets it go. It skips twice on the water before disappearing. Cobb crows in delight at the first skip, eyes glued to its movements.

“What kind of Mando training lets you do that?”

“That’s not Mandalorian training,” Din says, helmet already tilted to find another rock. “Besides, that was shit. I can get nine skips on a good day.”

“Bantha shit,” Cobb says and Din looks up and sees a smile that looks like a challenge.

“Well, with the flowers in the way-”

“No, no, no backpedaling now,” he points a determined finger in Din’s direction. “You promised me nine skips, I want to see it.”

“Alright,” he says, stooping down to really start looking for the perfect rock. He pulls off his gloves in the process, sticking them in his belt.

He stands up with a couple of decently flat rocks. He weighs the first in his hand, before dipping low and letting it fly. It gets five skips before slipping underneath the surface. Cobb lets out a low whistle.

“Here,” he says, handing a stone to the other man. “Try it.”

Cobb hesitates only for a moment before taking the stone, fingers brushing. Din coaches him through the movements, shaping his fingers around the stone, showing him how to get the right angle by crouching down low.

Cobb’s eyes never leave his hands, but his first throw sinks like a rock. Din gets a good six skips.

“Try again,” Din says, already handing Cobb a new rock before he can let loose the expletive he knows is behind his tongue.

The sun is low in the sky, casting a warm red light over them by the time Cobb can skip the stone more than once and Din can get a stone to skim the water ten times before going under. The look Cobb gave him when he finally got a stone to skip once is one Din knows he’ll remember for a while.

The walk back is quiet, both men exhausted after a long day. Was it just this morning that he and Cobb flushed out a group of slavers? Can a day feel so long and yet so short?

What if he has more days like this?

He shakes his head as the ramp to the ship lowers. They’re friends, that’s all. He’s not about to mess up a good thing, one of the rare good things he’s managed to hold onto since giving up Grogu.

He’s about to step up when he feels a hand on his arm. He stops and turns to face Cobb, who looks so earnest in the light of the setting sun, it hurts.

“Din, thank you.”

“It’s no-”

“No, really. Thank you, for all of this. I never… I used to dream about leaving Tatooine as a younger man, but I-I could never think of anything like this.”

Din nods, because if he tries to clear his now dry throat, tries to string two words together, he’s going to regret it. He’s going to say something like “stay with me” or “can I go home with you” conversations that will end in disaster.

Or at least, that’s what Din tells himself as he watches Cobb walk into the ship. Din lets out a steady breath before following.

Take off goes smoother this time, Cobb being more prepared for the feelings and sounds. This time, Cobb breaks his gaze from space to ask about the ship, how it functions and its name.

Space travel has never felt so fast. It feels like the next minute he’s bringing the ship down onto the familiar yellow sands of Tatooine.

The ramp of the Mudhorn lowers, a small puff of sand kicks up. Neither man moves.

“Well, until next time, Marshal.”

“Of course, don’t be a stranger. And thank you, again.”

But still, neither one of them moves. Din’s about to ask if something’s wrong when Cobb steps close.

“Please don’t tell me I’m reading this wrong.”

Before Din can ask, Cobb reaches for his hand, bringing it up to his mouth so fast it looks more like he’s punching himself with Din’s fist rather than kissing his knuckles. Cobb pulls back just as quickly, back ramrod straight as he takes Din in.

“Don’t feel obligated-”

“I’m not-Maker, you are dense sometimes, aren’t ya?” Din’s about to contest that but Cobb keeps going. “I’ve damn near been in love with ya since you flew out of that dragon’s mouth! Your visits make my month and I… I wouldn’t be opposed if they weren’t always for business.”

“Cobb-”

He makes to pull back. “If I misread the situation, then my apologies, but-”

Din squeezes tight on his hand. “You didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I… I don’t show just everyone planets full of flowers.”

Cobb breaks into a grin. “Well next time you take me out on a date, let me know it’s a date so I can get dressed up.”

Next time . Din likes the sound of that.

“It’s a date.”

#dincobb #marshmando #din x cobb #cobb/din #cobbdin #kappa writes #my fanfic #this is so soft guys #like i dont normally write pining to this level but i went all in for this one #the mandalorian #star wars #sw

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castiel-barnes · 3 years

Text

The Helmet.

The Mandalorian and The Jedi series.

Pairing: Din x jedi Reader.

Summary: The Jedi has to help Din in the comfort of the Razor Crest. And a confession is made.

Warning: Hurt comfort. Mentions of a panic attack. Jedi is scarily intimidating. Softness.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Previous chapter.

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell @scribbledghost @farfromjustordinary @ginger-swag-rapunzel

It had been months since you and Din had since met, since he rescued you from the imperials and since you had helped him defend the village on Sorgan. The two of you had gotten closer during those months, sometimes seeking the comfort of the other during rough nights.

Even though the three of you had your own bounties on your head, Din occasionally going out on his own hunts to provide for the three of you. Some days you'd help him drag the bounties back depending on how easy they were.

You wasn't sure what planet you was on, but it was hot and desert like so you ended up shredding a layer or two. And you wasn't sure how Din was coping in his tin can state.

"You sure you're alright to go out in that?" You asked,

"Yeah, I will mesh'la I'm going to need your help today." He replied placing his thigh armour on.

"Alright." You smiled. You had put grogu in the cockpit and locked it.

The initial capture was fairly easy although you had to bring in the bounty cold. That's when all hell broke loose. You had been tailed by the dead bounties friends all the way back to the Razor Crest. You both managed to get back onto the Crest, but an unwanted visitor managed to get on aswell. You was in the cockpit using the blasters against the others outside, when you heard grunting from the hull.

You jumped down the ladder and saw a man physically lifting Din off of the ground, and his other hand lifting Dins helmet.

"Come on mando let's see your face now." The guy said lifting Dins helmet a little more. You could see Dins chin, and the next moment you felt rage surge throughout your body. The door to the hull was still open and could still see some others. Igniting your saber you moved elegantly to the two men, and sliced the hands of the guy holding Din.

Din dropped to the floor clutching his helmet. You stood between him and the other guy who was now crying about his hands, and you force pushed him as hard as you could out of the door. You stood on the edge of the bay door and sneered at the others.

"Leave now, before any of you get hurt like your friend." You growled, your knuckles now white from how tight you were holding your saber.

"Why should we listen to you scar face?" One spat,

It started to feel like your scar was burning, especially since it was because it had been a while since anyone mentioned it.

"Puny jedi." Another said. By now you were livid and overprotective of Din. You knew how much the helmet meant to him. The others started moving towards you firing the blasters. You deflected a few of their laser bolts with your lightsaber and the force.

Throwing your lightsaber, it span through the air slicing through the perpetrators. They all fell to the ground, blood pouring out of them. If it was possible, there would be steam coming out of your ears.

You stormed back onto the Crest and saw Din still kneeling. You could see his hands shaking.

"Din? Hey Din look at me. You're alright." You stated grabbing his hands gently,

"G-get it in the air. P-please Y/N" He stated through short staggered breaths. You nodded slightly squeezing his hands, unsure if you should leave him even for a moment. You got up the ladder as fast as you could and got the Crest into orbit and into hyperspace.

Jumping back down the ladder, you found Din had shredded all his armour except his helmet. But you could still hear the short staggered breaths getting more and more frantic.

"Din you need to breath, come on you need to breath with me." You stated kneeling in front of him,

"I-i can't. My helmet it's not letting me. Help me please. Y-y/n please." Din begged you,

You thought for a second trying to think of something and then it came to you.

"Din listen to me this is what I'm going to do, I'm gonna take my tunic off and I'm gonna turn off the lights and we'll take your helmet off. Okay?" You asked looking at him worriedly. He nodded still breathing quickly and hands shaking. You stood up briefly ripping off your tunic, and turning the lights off with the force from across the hull.

It didn't take long for you to hear the clang of his helmet dropping to the floor. You sat on the floor and pulled Din against your chest. Feeling how tense and uncertain he was, you gently rubbed his back and shushed him.

"Listen to my breathing Din. Its alright, breath in through your nose and out through your mouth." You explained quietly with him pretty much on top of you.

Humming quietly, you continued to stroke his back and occasionally his hair. You could feel him calming down, but could still sense the panic.

"You're safe Din. You're safe with Grogu and I." You reassured him,

"Thank you Y/N." He whispered still sounding as though you could break him like dropping a piece of China.

"It's alright Din. It's alright I promise you." You replied nuzzling into his hair a little. As you nuzzled into his hair, you noticed some soft curls tickling your face.

He eventually calmed down and stopped shaking. You knew somewhere in the hull there was a little radio, so you focused your mind and pulled it to you catching it before it hit either of you. You took your other hand off Din's head for a moment, to turn the radio on.

"What are you doing?" He asked quietly,

"Just listen to the music." You said still raking through his soft hair. You felt him relax even more, especially in his mind. When you killed all of those guys and went back onto the crest, his mind was an absolute mess.

"Come on, should get you onto the cot. I'm sure it's more comfortable than laying on me." You stated. You pulled him up and the two of you lied down on the cot. Din pulled you tighter into him. This was the first time that either of you actually spent any time together like this. Yes the two of you cuddled briefly after a nightmare. But never with Dins helmet off.

You felt him calm down significantly and soon soft snores filled the small room. Every know and then you felt him twitch, and am occasional flinch. But other than that he was fine for most of the night.

**************************

Timeskip:

You don't remember falling asleep. But you did. As you rolled over, you expected to feel Din's warmth but discovered that the space was empty.

Getting up, you climbed the ladder leading up to the cockpit.

"Hey you okay?" You asked gently touching Din's shoulder,

"Hm? I'm okay, I woke up and couldn't get to sleep. So I came up here." He replied looking up at you. Smiling you sat down, thinking for a moment. Closing your eyes, a few scenes flashed across your mind and not fun ones. But you closed them out of your mind for a second trying to ignore it.

"I -i really wanna thank you for yesterday. I haven't really felt like that in ages. But i-i... just thank you." Din stuttered out not exactly sure what to say,

"It's okay. I know how much your creed means to you." You replied smiling softly.

"It's not just the creed that means so much." Din whispered hoping you wouldn't hear,

"What?" You asked slightly confused. You could feel the anxiety coming off of Din in waves.

"Y-you and grogu. You mean so much to me. I- I don't think I've cared this much for someone since, kriff I don't know how long." Din stated dropping his head slightly,

"And I know that Jedi aren't allowed attachments bu-" He continued until you cut him off.

"I really like you too Din. Have for a long time. Don't worry about attachments now, that went with the order." You stated,

"You.... you like me too?" Din asked. You nodded and smiled a little.

"Yeah, I have for a long time. When we was on Sorgan, you and Omera were getting close and there was a point where it looked like she was going to take of your helmet. I can't tell you how jealous I was." You explained slightly embarrassed,

"Really? Y-you have no need to be jealous cyar’ika, I didn't... I didn't feel anything towards her." Din replied hesitantly holding your hand. You smiled, and squeezed his hand 3 times a signal almost that it was okay.

"Do you trust me?" Din asked,

"Of course I do Din." You replied frowning slightly. Din leaned over to the console and turned the lights off. The next thing you heard once again, was the clang of Dins helmet being set down.

You felt Din as he moved closer to you, until his breath was fanning across your face.

"Is this okay?" Din asked again,

"Y-yeah this is okay." You replied your own anxiety picking up slightly. Feeling Din's nose nudge yours, you finally closed the space and kissed him. After the first short kiss, the two of you broke away leaning your foreheads against the others.

"Wow." You let out quietly, you heard Din chuckle a little. Din kissed you again, and it felt like your core had set alight.

"I really like you Din." You whispered feeling the scruff along his jawline,

"I really like you too Y/N." Din replied smiling even though you couldn't see him.

#pedro pascal #writing #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x jedi

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alpineglowx · 3 years

Text

I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Eight: Illuminance

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none

* * * *

“What Clan is she from?”

“Kryze.”

“... Kryze.” Thell thumbed at her lip from her spot in the cockpit. “Clan Kryze. Duchess Satine was one of their leaders, right? The previous Duchess of Mandalore during the Clone Wars.”

The Mandalorian was still as always in his seat, his gaze focused on coming in to land on the ocean planet. Thell could only see so much past the steam and mist that perpetuated the surrounding area.

“Sure,” was his only response.

Thell cocked a brow, opening her mouth to say something else, but decided against it. Her mother had told her stories of the Mandalorian clans, and her former master had been obsessed with their culture. She wondered briefly if she knew more than the Mandalorian sitting only a few feet from her, if he only knew so much about his ery Clan.

But what had he been before Clan Mudhorn? Had he been part of another clan? And the obsession with his Creed, his strict rules regarding secrecy and removing his armor. They all boggled Thell’s mind. Maybe she could ask him after they left this planet.

It bothered her that he had barely said a word, like he usually did, while they had been flying from Tattooine. Why would he go out of his way to figure out this thing with her?

They landed a few moments later, and Thell pushed herself up from the seat, still feeling that stinging pain in her lower back. But the medicine she had taken early on was taking effect, and she desperately wanted to talk to the people they were meeting. She went to grab the child, to hold him like she usually would when they went off ship. But Mando beat her to it, carefully placing the child in a satchel he wore against his hips. Thell watched him with a cautious eye before asking, “Did I say something?”

The Mandalorian made his way to the ladder as he responded softly, “No.”

“Oh.” Thell bit at her lip, standing awkwardly in the cockpit.

Sensing her silence, Mando turned, and Thell could see Grogu’s eyes peeking at her from the bag.

“What’s wrong?”

Thell cleared her throat, readjusting her cloak. “Oh, I just usually held him. I still can, if you want.”

He stepped closer to her, and for a split second, fear overwhelmed her. But he was gentle as he grasped her shoulder, tilting his helmet down.

“The last time I came to this planet, the kid and I were nearly killed twice. If the wrong people see my face, or his, they would try to shoot us on sight.”

The grip on her shoulder was still loose, and Thell felt goosebumps along her arms.

“So... what you’re saying is... you don’t want me to get shot because of the kid.”

He shrugged, just tilting his helmet the tiniest bit. “You could say that.”

Thell rolled her eyes, giving him a playful smirk. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

He had turned the other way, stepping just one foot down on the ladder.

“Where would I be without my babysitter?”

The comment had meant to be a joke, but Thell could only feel a hesitant blush creeping into her skin.

With her blaster tucked into the back of her waistband, and an old piece of Mando’s armor strapped chaotically to her chest, she made her way into the village with Mando and the kid.

It was a fishing village through and through; Mon Calamari and Quarren seemed to be the main residents beside the occasional human. They had seemed to land right in the middle of some sort of black market port; vendors lined the sides of the walkways, offering various trades and goods as Thell walked with Mando. Every part of the dock seemed to be drenched, even when multiple fishing boats and ships came in, spraying them with sea water.

They entered a shabby restaurant, lined to the brim with Trask’s natives, slurping away on seafood or bowls of chowder strung in pipes across the ceiling. With the crowd, and the added dim atmosphere of the place, Thell couldn’t help the trepidation that surged through her veins. Out of pure instinct, she kept her right hand concealed under her cloak, ready to draw her weapon if needed.

Thell nearly jumped when she felt his hand on her back, drawing her closer to his side.

“Stay close to me,” he said softly. “It doesn’t look like they’re here yet.”

They sat at a table far from the center, far from wandering eyes. The kid was holding a spoon, sloppily digging into a bowl of chowder. After a minute of struggle, Thell rolled her eyes and scooped into the soup, offering it to Grogu. He made a small humming noise, looking at her with a slightly amazed expression, to which she only shrugged and smiled back at him as he chewed contently on the food.

“Here they come,” she heard Mando say quietly, and watched him as he rose to greet them. Three warriors dressed in blue and white Mandalorian armor approached him before slowly removing their helmets.

“Mando,” a woman with red hair and bright green eyes said with a kind smile. “Good to see you again.”

The Mandalorian only dipped his head in greeting before acknowledging her two other companions.

“Are you taking my earlier offer?”

Thell’s ears pricked. What offer had she made him?

“No. I’ve come for something else.” His gaze drifted to Thell, and she stared back at him dumbfounded, and sat in silence for an awkward moment as they gathered around the table.

“Thell,” she said, extending a hand.

“Bo-Katan. Good to meet you. These are my colleagues, Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. How can we help?”

After greeting the other two, Thell fished her necklace out from under her cloak.

“This was my father’s. I never met him... My mother never spoke about him. But Mando, he knew the symbol, the symbol for Clan Eldar.” At the name, she watched Bo’s eyes light up, and hope stirred in her chest.

“There was someone on Tatooine that recognized my last name, Sai’Lya. He said that you could help me find out about my father.”

Bo raised her hand, motioning to Thell to pass the necklace. When she did, she inspected it carefully, rolling it between her fingers and allowing her colleagues to examine it as well.

“Is your mother Mandalorian?” she asked, her green eyes flickering back to Thell. “What’s her name?”

She shook her head. “She wasn’t... but her name was Seba.”

It seemed as though a shock wave passed through Bo, because she suddenly went rigid, blinking fast and passing looks between her colleagues. Thell felt the breath catch in her throat.

“What?” She asked, almost desperate. “What is it?”

“Eight years ago, I gathered together the Clans that were willing to become part of the Mandalorian resistance against the Empire. One of those Clans was Eldar. They were smaller than most, but fierce, and I remember their symbol.” She lifted the necklace, letting the metal gleam in the restaurant's soft light.

“There was a great warrior among them, I remember him well. His name was Theldar Avan. We worked closely together during the rebellion. At the time, he had no family with him, but he talked greatly of the woman he loved... A woman called Seba.”

Chills raced up her arms. “My mother.”

“Yes,” Bo affirmed, with a somewhat sad smile. “But from what I gathered, he had ruined things between them long ago, and she didn’t want to see him. But he often talked of his child, the one with big, sparkling brown eyes and wild copper hair. He always said she was the reason he kept on fighting.”

Her whole body was trembling now. “Is he... is he still alive?”

“No, unfortunately,” Bo said, and Thell’s heart sank. “At the height of the Rebellion, he sacrificed himself to rescue war prisoners on an Empire base. I... I don’t believe there was any way he could have survived the explosion.”

Suddenly her hand was reaching forward, clutching Thell’s closed fist.

“Your dad... he was a war hero, Thell. He died fighting for the light, for a galaxy where you would be safe.”

Thell couldn’t stop the tears that were escaping. She had never even known him, nothing but the necklace, and all the information was overwhelming and beautiful all at once. Here was someone who knew her father, who fought alongside him, and she was speaking of him with such honor and credit. So many of her burning questions had been answered, and even though he had been dead for a quarter of her life, she felt like she actually knew him now.

And it suddenly felt like all eyes were on her. And they were. All five of them, even little Grogu, were staring at her.

“Excuse me for a second,” she said before sweeping out from the table, gathering her cloak over her shoulders and heading straight for the entryway. To her relief, she couldn’t hear anyone get up and follow her, so she dashed down the first empty alleyway she saw. There was a tower of empty crates to her left, and a spot where she could sit and cry where no one could find her.

Growing up, she had become good at this. There was only so much space on the Razor Crest, only so many private areas, so she felt as if she was letting out two months worth of emotion as she curled up on the cold pavement, surrounded by distant sprays of water and the smells of ocean life.

Theldar Avan.

She had been named after him. He had known who she was. He had loved her.

Thell cried, head tucked between her knees, until her eyes felt raw from rubbing at them. It was only when she sensed a presence coming towards her, and loud stomping, that her senses came back to her.

Whipping out the blaster from under her cloak, Thell pointed it directly at the stranger, standing several feet above her.

“Careful there.”

When Thell raised her head, the Mandalorian was standing above her, the Beskar steel glinting like diamonds in the dim sunlight. He looked like he had the night they had met, the night he had stumbled in on her holding Grogu in that living room. Except now, she knew him, knew what color his hair was, knew how both protective and kind he could be. He was no longer a feared bounty hunter in her eyes, but something, someone, greater. In fact, it calmed her immensely to see him of all people.

His baritone voice nearly calmed her, and also made her realize how much of a mess she must have looked like. Thell wiped at her eyes again, but she knew he had seen her cry before, so she stood anyway. Pain nipped at her lower back, and Mando seemed to notice, because he bent down to help her before she collapsed.

“S... Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’d shot at me,” he said, sounding sarcastic through the mask. He stepped back just a bit to allow her more space. Even in all her emotions, Thell threw him an amused sideways glance and smirked.

“You okay?”

Had she not just been sobbing, Thell might have beamed ear to ear.

“I... I just got a little overwhelmed, that’s all,” she explained. “I didn’t know anything about my father before today. I had no idea he was involved in all of this.”

“Your father sounded like a brave man.”

Thell wiped away a stray tear on her face. “Yeah. He was.”

“I would have been honored to fight alongside him,” he said suddenly, and that’s when Thell beamed. “I don’t like the Empire any more than they did.”

“Mando...” Thell began softly. “Thank you. And thank you for bringing me here. I feel more... complete.”

He straightened at her words, but quickly looked to the side, keeping his hands loose around his waist.

“We should get back.” Thell went to nod, just lightly, before he looked down at her again. Suddenly his hand was raised to her head, gently tucking away a wisp of wild hair that had flown in her face. The same thing her mother did so many times over. She briefly wondered if her father had done it too.

But Mando doing it, such a simple action, made Thell’s heart swell with thankfulness. In a galaxy where most everyone she knew was dead, she was glad to have at least one friend. Even if it was this gruff, quiet man behind a mask that was slowly starting to make her feel less alone.

“If you’re ready,” he said, lowering his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Thell looked towards the sun, the direction of the restaurant.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

. . . .

“I do have some good news for you,” Bo said softly, leaning forward. “... Your father’s armor survived.”

“What?” Thell felt her heart pound in her sternum again, threatening to break free.

“He was on a stealth mission when he died, so he left his Mandalorian armor at our base.”

Thell let out a shaky breath. “Do... Do you have it?”

“I don’t. But your father had many friends in the Resistance. He had one good friend, his best one in fact. His name’s Bolie. If there's anyone who has your dad’s armor, it’s him. Last I heard, he was camping out somewhere pretty discrete.”

“Where?” Thell asked eagerly, almost jumping out of her skin. The man next to her snickered lightly.

“West region of Pasaana.”

“Pasanna?” Mando interjected, nearly scaring Thell and Grogu both and leaning forward. “That’s all the way in the Expansion Region. Do you have any idea how much fuel it takes to get there?”

Bo shrugged lightly. “I didn’t tell you you had to go there. Besides, what else have you been doing these past two months? Flying across the galaxy, I suppose?”

Her colleague leaned forward. “I would think a man of your reputation would have more than enough credits to get by, Mando.”

“Oh, shut it,” the other girl said, playfully elbowing him in the arm. Bo seemed to roll her eyes at the scene.

“We should be on our way,” the Mandalorian spoke, beginning to stand. He strung the satchel with the kid back around his shoulders, going to the main table to pay for their food as the others stood.

Thell felt a soft grip on her arm, stopping her from turning the other way. Bo was looking back at her with serious eyes.

“How long have you been with him?” She asked. Innocent question enough.

“Two months... But it feels like a lifetime.”

Her lip curled at one side. “I’m sure, after all you’ve been through. You know about him, don’t you?”

“Uh... Not too much. The guy barely speaks to me about his personal life... But, what do you mean?”

“You know he is a part of the Children of the Watch.” When Thell only looked at her blankly, she continued, tilting her head down so she could hear her better.

“The Watch broke off from Mandalore... They are a group of religious zealots that follow the Way of Mandalore, ancient Mandalore. That time has been long gone from us, from the other Clans. They have stuck to the ways of the past, and unlike us, do not believe in showing their faces. Secrecy is their faith, their bout at survival.”

Thell blinked, sending a quick sideways glance at Mando before returning her attention to Bo.

“What’s so bad about it?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard him speak of the Way, haven’t you?” Thell nodded. “Then you can see how important it is to him. It is the most important thing to the Watch. I respect him as a warrior, but I do not agree with his following. The Watch is more of a cult than anything, Thell, and he has allowed it to determine every decision he makes. It is a dangerous thing for him to be involved with... and to have been raised in.”

Bo hung her head, readjusting her hands on her waist. “The first time we met, I thought he would blast me through when I removed my helmet. He even told us we were not Mandalorians. His ways are twisted, Thell.”

“... But the kid. He cares about him. Wouldn’t you say that’s... unlike what the Watch teaches?”

“I suppose. Honor to family is about as Mandalorian as you can get, if you call them a family.”

Thell let her eyes wander back to Mando and Grogu, who sat at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“I would... How’d you guys connect, anyway?”

“He was told to look for more of his kind for what to do with the kid. I told him to bring the kid to Ahsoka Tano, one of the last Jedi. She would know what to do. Has he told you anything about that?”

Thell shrugged. “In passing... I guess. He mentioned that some woman told him that the kid has to choose his own path. She couldn’t train him.”

“Strange,” Bo said, her eyes drifting. “Do you know of his plans for the child?”

Thell sighed. “Not really. It feels like we’ve been going in circles trying to run from everyone that’s after us.”

“Well... whatever happens, I hope you three stay safe. He may be part of the Watch, but he’s no less honorable, and brave. He deserves a good life with that kid.”

Once they were aboard the ship, Thell kept Grogu close to her, cuddling him to her chest as she sat in her own seat. The kid had fallen asleep on their walk back to the ship, snoring softly. As not to wake him, Thell deigned to just keep him in the seat with her.

The Mandalorian was in his own pilot’s seat, gloved fingers flickering over controls and switches. His movements were normal to Thell now, after two months. They were in the air and flying through the clouds, Trask disappearing behind them like a lost memory. Mando set the coordinates for Pasaana, and leaned back in his seat, watching the blue and white streaks of hyperspace fly by. It was only when they were in space that Thell finally spoke.

“Mando?”

He cocked his head over the seat for just a moment to let her know he had heard her.

“Why are you doing this?” Thell asked, leaning forward. “All this stuff... with my family.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the cockpit window. It had become so quiet in the ship that Thell could hear Grogu snoring beneath her cloak.

Finally, the Mandalorian spoke, and Thell could swear he had removed the mask, because he sounded more human than he ever had, his voice ricnnh and full of emotion.

“I wasn’t able to save my parents, and neither were you. But you deserve to know who they were.”

#mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x oc #angst #fluff #din djarin fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars #mandalorian fanfiction

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mando-and-child · 3 years

Note

About the Mando prompts/fics ideas I've got a à few (or they can be mixed) : 1. Cobb Vanth and Omera bonding over being pm the only people to show Din kindness and respect for his beliefs (I personally never saw Omera's relationship with Din as romantic so in my mind it's more of a gen thing). Also being the only people Din was ready to leave Grogu with. 2. Cobb Vanth becoming Din's main babysitter over time. 3. Cara's on the side Bro-ing with Din or commenting on his relationships... The good thing is they can all can be shippy or gen.

//Thank!! I have decided to mix them together a little bit as I liked all of them. It ended up a bit longer then expected, but this was fun! Also I hope this fits with your ideas. But yeah it was a lot of fun and I hope you like it!

Ship: Cobb/Din

Gen: Din and Omera, Din and Cara.

——————

Din isn’t sure how he got into this position but here he is watching his cyar and friend planning on how to take care of him. Omera seems to have taken to Cobb the second Din introduced them to each other. He shouldn’t be surprised Omera and Cobb both seem to have a sens for when Din isn’t taking care of himself. At least in their eyes. At least their conversation had switched from that particular subject.

“So you haven’t seen his face yet?” Cara asks from where she was sitting next to Omera. Cobb looks at her confused but shakes his head.

“No I haven’t.”

“But you two are together even have been for a while.” Cara says. Genuinely looking curious as to why he hadn’t yet.

Cobb sighs and shakes his head. “We have only be together for about a month, and even then he can’t take of his helmet in front of another living being. That’s the creed he lives by and I respect that. I’m just happy to have him in my life, I don’t need to see his face to know he is a kind man.” Cobb says smiling at Din.

Din has seen that respect and it had warmed his heart everytime. Cobb would always knock on the door to which ever room Din had been in asking him if he had his helmet on. He never asks to see his face or if he will ever take it off. No Cobb was patient would even tell him that he didn’t need to see his face to love him. That one always did something to him, Cobb loves him even without ever knowing what he looks like. For all he Din could be horribly looking under the helmet. Just as with the armor, he never asked if he could keep it but gave it up to Din after the whole Kryht dragon mission. This made that Din always makes sure to respect Cobb’s believes in return. They have found middle grounds for somethings. Din plays with the red scarf in his hands, Grogu had taken it early from Cobb. It had given Din an idea, one he is still working out, but he is liking the idea so far.

“At least Din seems to be taking care of himself this time around.” Omera comments making Din come back to the conversation.

Cobb huffs. “Only because I make him take care of himself, he still considers one ration bar enough food. I have lived on low food resources many times before but one ration bar a day cant be healthy.” Omera shakes her head giving Din a pointed look from where she is sitting. Looking like a dissapointed mother ready to scold her child.

“That isn’t enough food for a grown man who is fighting. They are meant to be an one meal replacement not three meals. How about I give you a few recipes for easy soups that can be kept in containers for a long time?” Omera suggest turning back to Cobb. Cobb smiles at her and nods his head.

“Please everything to make him eat some more during missions and hunts.” Cobb says giving her a grateful look. Which makes Din feel guilty, he hadn’t meant to worry Cobb. He had gotten used to eating very little and sharing what he had with the kid. That he forgot that now that was on his own again during mission he could eat more. He didn’t had to worry about not having enough for the kid. “Certain ingredients though might be hard to get a hand on I’m happy to learn some new things.” Omera smiles at Cobb’s enthousiasme and starts to tell him about soups he could make. Din might not know how he got in this position but he knows that he is lucky to have these people in his life.

#the mandolorian #din djarin x cobb vanth #din djarin #cobb vanth #omera #Grogu mentioned #cara dune #mentioned

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melancholicumsomnia · 3 years

Text

The Redeemers (A Mandalorian Fanfic) Chapter 2

All warnings/pairings and other info to follow per chapter. For now, this is safe reading for everyone. Forgot to mention that this fic will most likely not follow established SW canon. I’m actually getting dizzy checking the timeline.

Tagging @pedrocentric. Hope you like this second chapter.

You can read Chapter One HERE.

* * * * * * * * * *

THE REDEEMERS

Rory

Chapter Two: The Broken

“Thank you for agreeing so quickly to meet with us, Dr. Pershing. I know the circumstances of our first meeting were quite…tense.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet with you again, no matter what the circumstances are. But since it’s about the Mandalorian here…”

Ahsoka – who stood quietly in a corner of the freighter’s med center – eyed the Imperial doctor whom Bo-Katan was addressing with suspicion. However, as Dr. Pershing hurried to take out an examination device from his bag, the Jedi saw how the doctor was very much at ease with his present company, belying his earlier statement. There were a couple of moments when he seemed to be on the verge of saying something to Bo, but then shook his head and decided that whatever concerns he had could come later.

When Bo-Katan told her that they would be calling Dr. Pershing to check on Din Djarin’s condition, Ahsoka was swift to offer her misgivings, being aware of the doctor’s reputation for cloning experimentation. But because of what they experienced on Mortis, the Jedi acquiesced on the condition that Din Djarin remain helmeted throughout Dr. Pershing’s examination.

Before the Imperial doctor arrived, they bathed the Mandalorian and trimmed his hair, mustache, and beard. They also dressed him in clean clothes, before laying him on the bed in the med center. Throughout this process, not once did the Mandalorian rouse from his insensate state. His right fist remained tightly clenched and they could not pry his fingers open.

True enough, Dr. Pershing’s eyebrows lifted at the sight of that helmet. To Ahsoka’s surprise though, the doctor just proceeded to perform a thorough examination of his patient.

After checking and crosschecking the findings on his device, Dr. Pershing asked, “May I take a blood sample? Don’t worry though. The results will be between just the three of us. I will delete whatever I find immediately afterwards.”

It was Ahsoka who gave her approval this time, causing Bo to give her a curious gaze. “Yes, you may. I’d like to see if your findings will confirm what I suspect.”

Dr. Pershing’s eyes grew wide at that remark, but opted not to say anything else. Bending down, he extracted the blood he needed from the Mandalorian’s bared arm and ran the diagnostics. As the data filled the small screen, the doctor could barely suppress his gasp. He looked at the two women, his mouth agape like a fish.

“His M-count…” Dr. Pershing blurted out, scratching his head. “How can this be? According to our records…my past encounters with him… He hasn’t demonstrated any Force powers at all!”

“What is his M-count, Doctor?” Ahsoka inquired.

“It’s in the same range as the Child’s. 20,000 plus. But, even if I hadn’t tested him before, I’m sure that he is not Force-sensitive.”

The Jedi let out a long, harsh exhalation. Seeing the questioning expression on Bo’s face, she told the doctor, “Dr. Pershing, if you’ll excuse us, I would like to speak with Bo-Katan in private.”

Hearing this, Dr. Pershing straightened up and stood firm. “If you please, I would like to join in your discussion.” To emphasize his position, he presented his device with the screen facing them. With a press on a button, the screen went black as all the data was erased. Seeing the wariness in their eyes, he reassured, “No, I haven’t transmitted any of the data to the Empire.” The doctor then quietly confessed, “The same way I deleted the facial scan records, the security feed, and blocked the transmission of the video that revealed the Mandalorian’s face from Morak.”

“And you expect us to just take your word on that?” Bo said, incredulous.

“I don’t presume that you can trust me so readily. I know how much your people have suffered under the Empire.” Dr. Pershing looked at Ahsoka. “And also our constant battles with the Jedi. In my defense, I can only say that if you hadn’t trusted me, even just a little, after I helped you…willingly…in retrieving the Child from Moff Gideon, you wouldn’t have asked me to come here.”

The two women exchanged quick glances, with a small smile forming on Ahsoka’s lips. “Very well, Doctor. Besides, we may need your medical opinion on this matter.” Turning to Bo, she said, “Tell us what happened to the Mandalorian…from the beginning.”

Bo folded her arms over her chest. “Ten years ago, after we rescued the Child, I convinced Din Djarin to join the Nite Owls. In truth, he had no other choice. The Razor Crest was destroyed, so he couldn’t continue his life as a bounty hunter. Boba Fett and Fennec Shand had also wanted him to join them on Tatooine. In the end, Din chose to be with us. I suppose he wanted to learn more about the Mandalorians, having lived for most of his life with the Children of the Watch. I thought it best to give him further training in fight and battle techniques and teach him about the true history and culture of Mandalore.”

“And by ‘true’ Mandalorian culture, you mean the current pacifist views that were espoused by your sister, Satine,” Ahsoka noted. “You were once a member of Death Watch yourself. So you know that you cannot just rewrite the entire martial history of Mandalore.”

“No, just certain aspects of it.” One red eyebrow lifted as Bo glowered at the helmet that Din Djarin was wearing. “In particular, that little matter that he could not remove his helmet to show his face.”

“Why would you do this, Bo? Why would you go so far as to teach him all this?”

“Because this is knowledge that he needs to lead the Mandalorian people.” Bo heaved a heavy sigh. “Din Djarin is the current wielder of the Darksaber, which, as you know, makes him the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

Seeing the surprised expression on the Jedi and doctor’s faces, Bo-Katan narrated the events that happened on Moff Gideon’s cruiser.

Continuing, Bo said, “In the two years that we were together, I had somehow cracked through some of those stubborn beliefs he held. I had…hoped…that I would bring him to Mandalore so that he could take the throne. Maybe reunite the clans and especially bring the Children of the Watch back into the fold.”

“But right from the start, he never wanted to be Mand’alor, did he? In the brief time that I’ve known him, I know that his sense of honor would not allow him to accept the Darksaber.”

Bo nodded. “True. He kept on insisting that the Darksaber belonged to me. He did not want to rule Mandalore. Unlike with Sabine, I cannot in due conscience accept it every time he offered it to me…not after the way I lost the Darksaber during the Great Purge. As per tradition, I would’ve had to fight him for the right to wield the sword, but it wouldn’t have been proper to do so back then. When he seemed so…lost…after he entrusted the Child to a Jedi.”

“Grogu found a Jedi?”

“Grogu… Is that the Child’s name?” Bo let out a wry laugh. “Yes, I guess that little kid had found a Jedi. It was the Jedi who saved us from the Darktroopers. We never learned his name though. I know Din missed the Child terribly and I told him that we could track that Jedi down, but he refused, always saying that Grogu was in safe hands and…”

“And…” Ahsoka gently prodded.

“He said that he could feel the Child, whatever that meant. That he was reassured that Grogu was alright. That he was safe at last.”

“It’s definitely because of the bond,” Dr. Pershing interjected. “When I first had the Child, I could already see that there was a strong attachment between them.”

“But after two years, something happened, am I right? Din Djarin told you that he wanted to leave, that he cannot be the king that you wanted him to be,” Ahsoka then put in. “He was so desperate to leave, but you refused every time. He still got away from you though. That was your Gauntlet I saw on Mortis. And when he was gone, he left behind the Darksaber.”

“I admit that I was happy at first that Din had forsaken the sword. At that time, the only people who knew that the Darksaber was back in our possession were Koska, Cara Dune, Fennec – who I am sure told Boba Fett about it, but the man could be trusted to keep a secret – and, of course, Moff Gideon. Axe would know about it later. For eight years, I bided my time, continued on our mission to gather weapons for our cause to reclaim Mandalore and…”

At that moment, Bo paused, realizing what she just said. “Eight years…”

It was Ahsoka’s turn to nod. “The way I see it, a very powerful Jedi Mind Trick had been placed on you. I’m pretty sure Din Djarin put it on you, although he was not consciously aware that he did so. The only reason why you started your search for him was because the Darksaber no longer allowed anyone to wield it, including you. The Darksaber brought you back to yourself because it wanted you to find its rightful wielder.”

“Yes. It’s weird. In all those eight years, I never saw the need to use it. I didn’t want it stolen again, so I kept it in deep storage. But then, rumors started to spread in Mandalore that the Darksaber had been found again. I don’t know where those rumors originated, but I suspected that the Empire was behind it. I was going to claim the sword as my own. After all, no one knew about Din Djarin. But…the Darksaber rejected me. I was with Axe at that time, so that’s how he knew. No one could pick it up without getting burned or hurt in the process.”

Dr. Pershing shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. I’ve seen Moff Gideon brandishing that sword about. I mean, it’s just a laser sword. How can it choose its wielder?”

“Lightsabers, the Darksaber included, are nothing more than weapons. Anyone can wield a Lightsaber, but it requires training and skill. I must admit that the Jedi’s expertise with the Lightsaber arises from the fact that we are able to complement its use with our Force powers,” Ahsoka explained. “But the way the Darksaber is behaving now, it’s clear to me that the Force is behind it. Unfortunately, the only way that I can see how the Darksaber works in relation to the Force is if and when Din Djarin awakens and chooses to use it.”

“I confess that there is very little that we Jedi know about the Force. I’m sure the same can be said for the Sith and the Empire,” the Jedi revealed ruefully. “That fact could not be more obvious than the situation we have here, right now.” She waved a hand to the Mandalorian lying on the bed. “I can say for certain though that the reason why Din Djarin left the Nite Owls and abandoned the Darksaber was because Grogu severed their bond.”

Bo and Dr. Pershing could not contain their horrified gasps.

Ignoring them, Ahsoka continued, “The severing overwhelmed Din Djarin. Even I felt just how raw the wounds in his mind and heart remained, even up to now. It made him distraught with worry and fear for Grogu, very powerful emotions that drew the Force to him. From this point on, this is all just pure conjecture on my part. I believe that the Force sensed these emotions, his intense need for Grogu that it summoned him to the one place where he could possibly find the Child – a place that is similar but more powerful than Tython, a place that could awaken the Force that lay dormant inside him.

“Mortis was the home of the Force-wielders. Obi-Wan Kenobi told me what the Force spirit of his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, revealed to him about Mortis – that it is a ‘conduit through which the entire Force of the universe flows’, that it is a ‘planet that is both an amplifier and a magnet.’ But Mortis is not just those two things.

“You may have heard rumors about the Sith Lord, Darth Vader, he who once was my Master Anakin Skywalker. It was said that Anakin did not have a father, that he was conceived through the Emperor’s manipulation of the midi-chlorians in his mother’s body. But I believe that Ani was created by the Force itself to restore balance in the galaxy. Seeing the…changes…in Din Djarin, I believe that he was…gestated…in the raw power of the Force on Mortis, transformed into a being with immense Force potential so that both the Light and the Dark Sides continue to battle for domination over him.”

Ahsoka could not contain her shudder. “I dread what would happen if the Dark Side wins.”

For a moment, a heavy, fearful silence fell among them, as they mulled over the Jedi’s troubling words. The quiet was shattered, however, by a soft, pained voice coming from the bed, uttering a single name, “Cara…”

Suddenly, the Mandalorian’s body jerked upward, forming a stiff arch. As he plopped back down on the bed, he started twisting and writhing, muffled screams coming from his helmet.

“HOLD HIM DOWN!” Dr. Pershing cried as he hurried to the bedside. Hearing the harsh, rasping breaths, he pulled off the helmet, revealing Din Djarin’s tear-filled, agonized face.

As the two women kept the Mandalorian from thrashing about, the doctor rummaged inside his bag for a syringe and immediately filled it up with fluid from a vial. Before he could plunge the needle into a swollen vein, Din Djarin’s body made one last upward surge and he fell back onto the mattress. His right hand dropped limp to the side, his fingers opening so that a gleaming silver ball fell and rolled on the floor.

Dr. Pershing quickly ran his examination device over the Mandalorian. “HE’S NOT BREATHING!” Without hesitation, he proceeded to apply chest compressions. Bo-Katan went to his aid, tilting Din Djarin’s head back and blowing precious air into his mouth. The passing seconds seemed like an eternity, and they feared that they wouldn’t be able to revive the Mandalorian.

Then, the door to the med center opened and Axe Woves entered, bearing the crystalline case containing the Darksaber. Opening it, he seized the pulsating sword inside. In an instant, a burning smell filled the room. But Woves didn’t let go. Instead, he laid the Darksaber over Din Djarin’s chest. As soon as contact was made, the crackling energy of the blade branched out, spreading all over the Mandalorian’s body so that he seemed to be enveloped in a bright, jagged net. The net pulsed and throbbed for a minute before dissipating. To their astonishment, they saw that Din Djarin was breathing again.

Seeing the questioning expression on Bo-Katan’s face, Woves explained his unexpected entrance, “The Darksaber started pulsing like crazy. I figured something might be wrong, so I decided to bring it along for you to see. I never thought it was reacting that way because of Din. Is he okay?”

Dr. Pershing again examined his patient. At the same time, Ahsoka went toward the still figure and laid her palm over his brow, a deep frown wrinkling her own forehead.

“Yes, he’s fine…for now,” Dr. Pershing confirmed. “But I…”

The doctor was interrupted by Koska, who barged breathless into the med center. “Something terrible’s happened! I intercepted a transmission from the prison ship that was supposed to transport Moff Gideon to Oovo IV. The ship was ambushed by an unknown spacecraft. Before the transmission died, the pilot said that Gideon and a Morgan Elsbeth were retrieved from the prison transport. He also said that…”

It was the Jedi who finished her sentence for her as she drew away from the Mandalorian with deep sorrow. “Marshal Cara Dune has died. The moment that Din Djarin went into seizures, he felt her die.”

Bo-Katan was stunned by this news. In the brief time that she knew Cara Dune, she had been impressed with the Marshal’s bravery and loyalty to Din Djarin.

Dr. Pershing gazed at the Mandalorian before him and made up his mind instantly. “That settles it. I would like to join you…if you’ll have me.”

Everyone in the room stared at him. But the doctor said, “I’ve long been thinking about leaving the Empire, especially after the things that they made me do to the Child and…and…” Dr. Pershing found that he could not continue. The thought of the experiments he had done filled him with shame. Instead, he said, “I always made the excuse that it was for science, but my conscience knew that what I was doing was wrong.” He turned earnest eyes to the people before him. “Please. Allow me to help the Child’s father. Din Djarin has spared my life on two occasions. I owe him and the Child this. Also…I’m afraid that he’s dying. If you know where…Grogu…is, I believe it is only he who can heal the Mandalorian.”

Bo thought for a long while. When she lifted her head, determination was set on her features. Turning her gaze to Ahsoka, she said, “I think we should pay a visit to our old friend on Endor. I’m sure she can help us locate that mysterious Jedi.”

Ahsoka smiled at the memory of the kind, valiant Twi’lek general who was both comrade and friend. “I agree. It’s been a long time since we last saw Hera. A reunion is definitely forthcoming.”

The Jedi bent down and picked up the silver ball which was once the Child’s favorite toy. “And as soon as we find Grogu, I’d like to hear his explanation on why he hurt his father this way.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#mandalorian fanfic #fanfic #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #the redeemers fic

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