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theetherealbloom · 1 year

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THE SILVER LINING — CH. 1

Chapter One: The Mercury Keeps Rising

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families in need of medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and albeit the bounty hunters as well. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has somehow led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths,

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: YA’LL IM BACK TO WRITING MY SOUL OUT HERE YAY! I feel like this is gonna be a weekly updated fic or updated twice a week if I’m feeling speedy hehe. Did I turn to the Enneagram again? Yep! You are an Enneagram Two for this fic! Yay! (Cause I’m an Enneagram Two :>) And Din is an Enneagram One, so ya’ll are romantically compatible. Anyways, my thoughts and explanations are gonna be in the end notes! Leave a comment to let me know if you want this series or if I should scrap it. :)

Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift

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NEVARRO, 9ABY – DAWN

Just a little longer now… Shouldn't be much longer. Wait, what is this about? You’ve been having trouble sleeping since you were young. The nightmares were nothing new, but the sharp flares in your chest and side kept bothering you recently. Your nervous system's acting up and now being awake feels unsafe as you lay there in your cot, clutching your chest, feeling each breath that escapes from your nose and out through your mouth as you stare at the ceiling above you.

You were a long way from Bogden 3, where you were raised. Nevarro wasn’t the ideal place to hide. It was situated within a sector of the Outer Rim Territories, in a system with a singular star and asteroid fields. An ashen world of black sands, with rocky and volcanic terrain that consisted of regions of rocky flats and hills along with vast fields of lava, which contained lava rivers both on the surface and underground.

The planet became a bounty hunter hive after the fall of the Empire. The Bounty Hunters’ Guild owns hubs throughout the Galaxy. One of such hub is located on the Outer Rim planet Nevarro, which functions as a cantina. The cantina works around the clock, has its brewery, offers a wide selection of drinks with snacks, provides coolness from the air conditioner, and is a favorite place for rest and meetings of bounty hunters.

By some luck or the unknown ways of the Force, no one had recognized you nor put a bounty on your head yet. After aiding the Republic during the revolution against the Empire and after the Battle of Yavin as a healer and a medic, you left to medically aid those in need after the war. If you were being honest, you missed your friends in the Soaring Hawkbat Clan and the people who raised you. However, you knew that what you were doing needed to be done.

Droids may sometimes be unreliable, and no matter how sophisticated technology becomes, there is no substitute for the human touch. No droid, no matter how dexterous, can offer compassion. It might be able to store and process more medical information, but only people can offer a truly sympathetic ear. As one of the few who possessed the knowledge to provide primary care to the sick and wounded, Greef Karga eventually established a small medcenter a few blocks away from the cantina.

You decide to push yourself up and away from your cot, seeing the glimmer of light peek through the window. Cleaning up, getting dressed, and after quickly eating a piece of purple fruit, you sling your brown satchel over your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the medcenter. As you enter, you greet the 2-1B droid which had modular limbs that allowed them to use a range of surgical tools and other medical instruments based on their patients' needs. You made your way over to your desk, setting down your bag and then sterilizing your hands afterward.

Different energy and buzz were happening around Nevarro. As you patched up one of the Trandoshan and sold them a couple of cans containing bacta for a good amount of credits, you had overheard them talking about receiving a job from the Client and planning a flight to Arvala-7. Living on this bounty hunter-infested planet taught you to listen for information and to use it to your advantage when necessary. They were usually given a holopuck, a simple holographic device used to display an image of the quarry and the bounty payout. However, they were only given a tracking fob, the Trandoshan briefly flashing it to you before tucking it away in their belt.

The next few hours were spent treating different families with various illnesses and injuries, then sending them off with some medication and a specific date to return. This was your usual routine, nothing new to note except for that tiny piece of information from earlier.

The sound of the doors hissing to life causes you to turn your head. If you were being honest, this was the last person you expected to show up in your medcenter. Your mouth gaped open as you take in the sight of the tall and imposing figure in front of you. The unmistakable shape of the Mandalorian helmet and polished silver causes you to nearly choke on your saliva.

“Do you have any bacta spray?” The sound of his rough and modulated voice causes you to try and gather your composure as he walks towards you, which proves to be slightly challenging. You clear your throat and look at his vizor, “Yeah, let me just go to the cabinet to get some.” He doesn’t respond, leaving you to awkwardly stand there for a few more seconds before moving to retrieve the bacta spray.

You usually aren’t this nervous or anxious around anyone, but the Mandalorian was completely different. As you rummage through the cabinet, you try and fight the overwhelming urge to sense his feelings, but it is no use. He radiates with deep hurt from his past but tries to bury his soul in the dark. This Mandalorian weights living heavy on his spine. A man who has created mistakes grips at them until his hands are bruised and burning. You wince at that, nearly dropping one of the bacta sprays but manage to catch it, turning to the Mandalorian keenly observing you as you make your way over to him, trying to ignore the waves and streaks of grey and silver glowing around his figure, you quickly hand it to him while saying, “I hope three is enough for now.”

He curtly nods, “How much?” You shake your head, “You don’t have to pay. It’s fine.” The slight tilt of his helmet almost causes you to blush, you feel his curiosity and concern, “I insist.”

You blink and shake your head again, “Nope. Just… be careful on your journey. That’s enough for me.” You sense his confusion and interest before he turns and walks away, leaving a trail of gray streaks only you could see, hearing the slight clink sound of beskar, and the doors closing.

Once you’re sure he left, you bring both of your hands to the side of your face, using two fingers to rub into your temple, sighing in embarrassment and disappointment for allowing yourself to nearly reveal who you truly are. Having strong Force empathy abilities involved picking up impressions of an individual's feelings and general emotional state. There was no explanation for the aura you could see around individuals, a specific color for each living creature that encompasses their character, personality, morals, past, present, and sometimes, a rare glimpse of their future emotions.

You try and ground yourself by closing your eyes and breathing, controlled and steady breaths of air as you reassure yourself that you’re safe. The peace doesn’t last long, as flashes of visions begin to cloud your periphery. Loud explosions on Nevarro, blaster fights, the unmistakable loud cries of a child, and the Mandalorian at the center of it all. You fall to your knees, clutching your chest tightly and the other to hold your upper body. You sensed the dark side, anger, fear, aggression, and a lust for power from this planet long before, but now you sense there is something much more sinister approaching.

NEVARRO, 9ABY – NOON

After a few days, you intercepted a transmission from the Mandalorian successfully capturing the bounty from Arvala-7, and must be directly given to The Client. While the Mandalorian was gone you had been secretly training, meditating, and gathering more information about whoever this Client may be, allowing the Force to guide you to the path you must walk on.

You step out of the medcenter to see the Razor Crest preparing to land on the settlement's spaceport and disembark. You toss the hood over your head and use a scarf as a mask, hiding in the shadows, watching the Mandalorian and a hover-pram pass you by swiftly and you catch a glimpse of a green creature inside. Your mouth slightly drops open in shock and the quiet feeling of the Force settles inside of you as you eye the baby.

You follow the two of them from a distance, not wanting to be noticed or seen. The Mandalorian turns right into an alleyway, and you wait a few seconds before trailing him. You hide behind one of the stone pillars, keenly observing his movements. The Mandalorian pounds loudly on a metal door and a TT-8L/Y7 gatekeeper droid, a simple photoreceptor mounted on a retractable eyestalk. The Mandalorian shows a disc as proof of identity. You notice The Child reacts in surprise as the droid retracts.

The door unlocks, and you realize you must follow them without getting caught. Your eyes close as you calmed yourself, deep breaths in and out, registering the light and sound waves around you, every particle and atom. Tiny pieces of music, notes in the air that only you can hear, each sound of your heartbeat, you hold my breath and try to swim. Making infinite room for hope and oxygen, every cell across your skin comes to life, and slowly willing the light particles to bend and render you invisible to visual and audio detection.

When you open your eyes, you silently gasped, seeing a pair of Remnant Stormtroopers exit the house, and watching The Child lowers its ears and head. Your hands clench in a fist so tight you reminded yourself to breathe, following after the Mandalorian and the Stormtroopers before the door slides shut behind you. Inside the corridor, one of the stormtroopers roughly yanks the Child's cradle. Your eyes narrow in agitation and annoyance, the Madalorian is quick to say, “Easy with that.” To which the first Stormtrooper snarkily replies, “You take it easy.”

The stormtroopers lead you to a frail old man who you assume to be the Client and to a familiar-looking doctor on the side, the Client is delighted, “Yes!” He holds the tracking fob and approaches the Child, “Yes, yes, yes! Yes.” The Doctor begins to scan the child with a device, eventually, the scanner beeps to his delight, “Very healthy. Yes.”

The Client stands taller to speak to the Mandalorian, “Your reputation was not unwarranted.” The Mandalorian isn’t the least bit flattered, opting to question him, “How many fobs did you give out?” To which the Client responds, “This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery. But to the winner…” He walks over to the desk, bringing out a large container, “Go the spoils.” After a few buttons are pushed, the sides of the container bloom open to reveal bars of Beskar. The Mandalorian comes closer to the center table, holding two bars of beskar as you frown in disappointment.

“Such a large bounty for such a small package.” The Client says, and the Child cries and coos for the Mandalorian as he is taken away by the doctor. He can’t help the guilt that bubbles inside of him, he asks, “What are your plans for it?” The Client isn’t amused by his inquiry, “How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the Code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten?”

Two more Stormtroopers appear from the room to the right, standing behind the Client, “That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor. Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” With that, the Mandalorian places the two pieces of Beskar inside the container. No longer speaking and leaving with his prize as you follow him outside undetected.

Once you were in the main streets of the city, you pull back your cloak and render yourself visible, watching the Mandalorian walks through the marketplace and down the steps into the sewer below. You feel the heavy weight on your chest, unsure if the emotions you feel are coming from him or if they are your own. You shake your head and make your way to the Cantina, needing a drink after all of the information you’ve gathered.

You were taught about Master Yoda, a legendary Jedi Master and stronger than most in his connection with the Force. Small in size but wise and powerful, he trained Jedi for over eight hundred years, playing integral roles in the Clone Wars, and helped in the upbringing of Master Luke Skywalker, to which your clan members were deciding to join him or not. Could this Child be another one of his kind?

The Cantina doors opened and you were immediately greeted by Greef Karga, “Well, look who we have here our favorite medic! Never thought you’d step foot in this place.” You shrugged in response, trying to shake off the stares of the different guests in the Cantina, “I gotta support Mikgel from time to time. Besides, he said he owed me a free drink.” You walk a bit closer to Greef Karga’s table as he asks, “Why would a woman like you, so carefree spirited need a drink?”

You sit on the other side of the booth, placing both of your arms atop the table, “Would… finding out about Imperial Forces hiding in out in a safe house on our planet count?” Greef Karga chokes on air and winces, you tilt your head down and raise an eyebrow, “Did you think you could keep this from me? What the hell are they doing here?”

He regains his composure and leans forward to whisper his reply, “I never intended to keep it from you. I was trying to protect you.” You scoff in disbelief and annoyance, “Protect me?”

To which Karga says, “Yes! Protect you, if they knew who you were and what you are they’d–” You rarely get angry, always choosing to see the good in people, but you sense the feeling of Karga’s greed and mixed lies.

You raise your hand, palm facing him, “Don’t lecture me about something I’ve lived and fought through. Giving them your services makes you an accomplice, a rat, and a damn coward.” The taste of acid and the waves of color that is radiates off of Karga is a mix of a bright lava orange and red, his simmering anger hisses at you, “Look who’s to talk. Hiding all your life. Running from your own future. Isn’t that a bit selfish and cowardly?” You deflate at that, understanding that he is partially right.

But before you could respond to the sound of the doors hissing open, you turn your head to see the Mandalorian entering the cantina, which silences its patrons as everyone gazes at him. Completely decked out with shiny new armor, he is completely unbothered as he approaches the table where you and Greef Karga are conversing. Karga heartily laughs, “Ah! Mando! They all hate you, Mando. Because you’re a legend!”

You try and get out of the booth and leave but Mando uses his right hand for you to stay put, so you settle back down again. You raise your eyes to hear the raspy voice of the Mandalorian confront Karga, “How many of them had tracking fobs?” Greef Karga scoffs and gestures around the Cantina, “All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you, Mando. Only you.” The Mandalorian looks at you, “What about her?” To which you look up at him and frown, “No. I’m just a medic getting a drink after a tough day. But congratulations, I guess.”

Greef Karga continues, “And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen. Please sit with us, my friend.” The Mandalorian obliges and unclips his Amban sniper rifle, placing it on the side of the couch before you move a little to the right to give him room to sit next to you. He took up almost half of the booth with his width and physique. You feel your left arm warm up with how close he was, the comfort that allures you to his orbit was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You choose to look straight ahead, trying not to acknowledge him pressed up beside you, luckily Greef Karga opens his mouth to talk, “They’re all weighing the Beskar in their minds, but not me. No. I, for one, celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well.”

Your right leg bounces up and down in anticipation Karga continues, “Hell! Even I’m rich.” He chuckled and digs into his breast pocket to reveal the two bars of Beskar he was given by the Client. You roll your eyes in annoyance, but the Guild Master says, “Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partner?”

Mando cuts to the chase, “I want my next job.” Greef Karga takes a sip of his drink before placing it down on the table, he eyes him with confusion, “Next job? Take some time off. Enjoy yourself. I’ll take you to the Twi’lek healing baths.” You frown at that and Mando doesn’t seem to care, “I want my next job.” Karga sighs, “Sure. Fine.”

“You hunters like to keep busy, right?” Karaga says with an amused tone, “Well, these are all far away.” He places a bunch of holopucks on the table and the Mandalorian reaches out to grab one, “The further, the better.” Karga smiles, “Well, take your pick. You’ve earned it.”

Mando places the holopuck on the table and it whizzes to life, showing an image of a Mon Calamari. “Ah. That’s the best one of the lot. A nobleman’s son skipped bail. Looks like you’re headed to the ocean dunes of Karnac.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything and simply takes the puck and moves away from the table, grabbing his Amban sniper rifle, seemingly satisfied with his pick. You turn to watch him go but he freezes, and you use the force to reach out what he’s feeling, to be flooded with waves of guilt. Your eyebrows knit together as you hear Mando ask, “Any idea what they’re gonna do with it?”

Karga is packing the rest of the holopucks, “With what?” The Mandalorian turns to face him, “The kid.” Karga shakes his head, “I didn’t ask. It’s against the Guild Code.” Mando’s voice goes deeper as he points out, “They work for the Empire. What are they doing here?” You raise your eyebrows at Karga, as you smile smugly at him, “I asked the same thing.” To which he says, “Are the two of you working together? The Empire is gone. All that are left are mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you both, just go back to the Core and report them to the New Republic.”

You rolled your eyes and the Mandalorian grunts out, “That’s a joke.” Greef doesn’t give a remark about his statement, instead, he says, “Mando, enjoy your rewards. Buy a camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperdrive, you will have forgotten all about it.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t reply and simply takes his leave. You shake your head, scoffing at Karga and he calls out your name as you near the exit, “I suggest you keep yourself out of sight with those Imperial troops. For your safety, of course.” You say nothing and leave the Cantina, you feel the ground shaking under your feet and feel the pressure building until you can't breathe.

You shake your head, and the temptation of the dark side calls to you, to give in to your rage and hatred, you internally fight it off, gritting your teeth as you say, “No.” You catch your breath and focus, rationalizing your decision to break into the Imperial Remnant safe house to save the Child, then you will yourself to move towards the medcenter.

You swiftly walked towards your desk, grabbed your satchel, and opened the flap of the leather. Finding the fabric that wraps around the object you were searching for, you pull it out of the satchel and unwrap it. The lightsaber hilt that you haven’t touched since the day you left the clan, weighs heavy in your hands but the familiar cool touch of silver and gold metal forged into one grant you a sense of comfort. You wrap the hilt once more, not yet needing your lightsaber, placing it inside your satchel and instead arm yourself with a blaster. As you were gathering a few bacta sprays, the double doors sounded open, you don’t look over your shoulder as you say, “We’re closed for the day.”

“I need your help.” You feel your eyes expand and widen, the familiar voice of the Mandalorian causes you to wince a little bit as you turn to see his figure standing a few feet away from you.

You try to act nonchalant ask you ask, “What did you um… need?” Mando steps a bit closer to you, which causes your back to hit the cabinet door, his grave voice echoes through the modulator, “I need your help with rescuing the kid.” You swallow away your nervousness, “What? Why would you ask for my help?”

“You never showed up to the Cantina until today. You were asking Karga about the Imperials and you were curious as to why there were here. You never carry a weapon with you so I’m assuming you’re about to infiltrate their base. It looks like our interests are aligned,” Mando stated plainly as you quietly shook your head, “You don’t know me. So why trust me at all with this?”

It takes him a moment to form a response, you watch as his shoulders rise and fall with every intake of breath, then he says, “I’ve heard the good you’ve done for the people of Nevarro. No judgment or malice. Sometimes giving them medical care for free. You’re right, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done before. But right now, I do know you’ve only done the right thing. So, I’m asking for your help.”

You were startled by his response, completely breathless by his honesty and directness. You had thought he didn’t know who you were, just some medic around Nevarro, plain and simple. But it seems the Mandalorian also keeps tabs on the citizens around the town.

The color aura of the Mandalorian returns as you blink at him, feeling his emotions bouncing off of him and you becoming the receiver. Sparks of white and silver illuminate him, sensing his sincerity and need to save the Child. You lick your lips as an anxious tick and then nod, “Okay. I’ll do it. What’s the plan?”

The sun was beginning to set, casting shadows on your figures as you swiftly walk down the marketplace and down the alleyway to see the giant green metal door to the Imperial safe house. You make a right to find the hovering pram in the dumpster, and you feel his rage beside you. Like wildfire within him, mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke. It's fight or flight buried in his mind as alarms will sound.

You both climb up to the rooftop of the building across, positioned on his stomach, using his sniper rifle to listen to his targets. Clicking the side of his helmet to which the device whizzes and the static could be heard as you lay flat next to him. You figured he was listening to the targets and waiting for him to relay the information. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian quickly says, “We need to get the kid out of there before they leave.” You nodded as you lifted your hood up, “Okay.”

You both climb down off the rooftop. The Mandalorian bangs on the green door and is greeted by the gatekeeper droid. However, the Mandalorian violently grabs the stem, causing it to screech and rips off the droid's head, causing it to short circuit. He quickly walks away to the side, causing the two stormtroopers to come out to investigate.

One of them tells the other, “Check the perimeter.”

You and the Mandalorian plant a grav charge on a nearby wall, he grabs your wrist to hide behind another wall, “Cover your ears.”

You follow his instructions, using both of your hands to cover them, the beeping chirps louder, then sparks begin to fly, blowing a hole in the Imperial compound. Alarms are blaring, as you both walk into the corridor, positioning yourselves and waiting for the stormtroopers to advance.

The yellow lights flicker and eventually short-circuit, catching a glimpse of sparks flying on the side of the wall. You see the stormtroopers pass you and the Mandalorian to inspect the giant hole in the wall, using the flashlights on the side of their blasters to find nothing.

You both appear from behind the stormtroopers, the Mandalorian shooting the both of them from behind. Another stormtrooper enters the corridor and finds his fallen comrades, one of whom has a smoking hole in his chest. The Mandalorian once again appears from the shadows, knocking him down with his blaster and shooting him as well.

So far you hadn’t even needed to draw out your blaster, Mando is truly skilled. You walk through the corridors of the facility, checking each corner for stormtroopers. You and he venture deeper into the compound where he traps a fourth stormtrooper with his grappling cable and stabs him with his vibroblade.

You shoot a door open and the stormtrooper manages to get a hit on this shoulder pauldron, causing him to jerk backward but manages to shoot the stormtrooper inside the laboratory. You both walk inside and you spot the doctor and an IT-O Interrogation Unit. The doctor begins to plead for his life, “No, no, no, no, please. Please. No. No, no.” You raise your blaster to shoot down the IT-O Interrogation Unit, watching the pile of junk collapse on the ground.

Mando raises his blaster to shoot at the doctor, but he begs you both once more, “No, please. Please don’t hurt him. It’s just a child.” You and the Mandalorian walk toward him and he continues to plead, “Please. No. No! Please. No. No, no.” Mando grabs him by his chest and shoves him to the side, causing him to fall to the floor. He points and clicks his blaster at him, and he curls into a ball with his arm stretched out begging. You make your way to the machine keeping the child, finding him deep asleep.

You feel the Mandalorian break at the sight, alarms are still blaring, but it's too late for holy water now. He points the blaster, angrily asking, “What did you do to it?” He doesn’t get an immediate response which causes him to repeat the question harshly, “What did you do to it?” The doctor shakingly replies, “I protected him. If it wasn’t for me, he would already be dead! Please! Please. Please.”

The doctor whimpers as you quickly grab the Child and leave with the Mandalorian. You make a right but here the doors open, Mando grabs you and presses you up against a wall to hide behind some of the storage crates. You suddenly feel nauseous and can hear your own heartbeat flutter as you register the cool kiss of his armor against your warm flesh. You close your eyes as you feel the rise and fall of your chest and hear Mandos’ quiet breathing.

You try to push down your powers and senses, not wanting to feel his emotions at this particular moment right now. You feel the strings and waves radiating and intertwining with yours, the silver wisps curling with your bright shining colors. You tightly shut your eyes, hoping that you were almost out of this compound.

Suddenly, you hear the Mandalorian whisper, “They’re gone.”

Your lashes flutter as you open your eyes to meet his gaze through his vizor, there is a spectrum of color, surrounding you both. Your mouth partly opens to say something but there is no sound. For a moment, you believed he felt something too, the pull of gravity within your orbit. However, Mando pulls away from you and the colors disappear once more as if it was never truly there.

Neither of you spoke as you trail behind him and walk into a storeroom. The unexpected sound of the door opening catches you and Mando off-guard as two stormtroopers with flashlights attached to their armor try to shoot you both down. One of the stormtroopers says, “Split up. We’ll flush him out.”

You see their flashlights give away their positions, giving you and him time to defend yourselves. You turn to your left to give Mando the Child, letting him carry it, and make your way to the other stormtrooper.

“Give it up. There’s nowhere to–” You hear the groan of the stormtrooper being taken down by Mando, and you do the same to the other one, hitting him over the head with your blaster before knocking him out completely.

Another stormtrooper announces his arrival, “Hey!” To which you grab Mando’s Ampan sniper rifle on the floor, electrocuting him with the fork end of the device.

As you both exit the storeroom only to run into a stormtrooper. You both exchange gunfire, the sharp whizzing sound of blaster fire echoes in your ears, and the Mandalorian shoots him down. A second stormtrooper blasts his way through, and he unleashes his flamethrower on the second stormtrooper, scorching him. The Child looks away as this happens. The charred stormtrooper falls to the ground.

You groan in annoyance, “How many are there?” Mando hums, “Way too many for the Empire to be considered gone.”

You follow him and enter the meeting room with him holding the Child. Seemingly empty you walk straight to the exit doors, however, they open to reveal four more stormtroopers, “Freeze!” You three are completely cornered, “Don’t move! Hands up!” One of them yells, “Drop the blasters!”

You glare at the stormtroopers as Mando speaks calmly to them, “Wait. What I’m holding is very valuable. Here.” Mando gestures to you to do the same as you get down on your knees to place your blasters on the ground and he gently places the Child on the floor as well. “Now turn and face me!”

A stormtrooper commands, but neither of you moves, allowing yourself to have faith in the Mandalorian’s plans. You watch him clench his fists, and you hear the device on his arm chirp to life. “Stand up!” They command once more but you don’t follow their orders. A beat passes. The sharp sound of whistling birds creating fireworks as he unleashes them onto your enemies, you hear them groan in pain as it takes out all of the stormtroopers.

Mando gently picks up the Child and his blaster to which you grab your blaster from the floor, quickly exiting the compound. You walk side by side with the Mandalorian through the streets of Navarro, feeling the menacing stares of each bounty hunter. You spot their tracking fobs have been reactivated, loudly beeping as they point it towards your direction. Soon enough you are surrounded by several armed bounty hunters.

You spot Greef Karga stepping into view, “Welcome back! I’m surprised to see you ask for help from our talented healer. Now put the package down.” You analyze the several bounty hunters, trying to find an escape. “Step aside. I’m going to my ship.” Mando said, and Karga softly chuckles, “You put the bounty down and perhaps I’ll let you pass and our medic can be easily forgiven, after all, she’s done for the citizens of this town.”

Mando doesn’t relent and states, “She and the kid are coming with me.” You turn to look at him in surprise that he wouldn’t just leave you here to face the consequences of your actions. “If you truly care about the kid and her, then you’ll put it on the speeder and you’ll let her walk away as if none of this ever happened and we’ll discuss terms.” An R6 astromech droid, on the speeder, turns its head.

“How do we know if we can trust you?” You asked and Karga scoffs, “Because I’m your only hope.” You watch Mando walk over to the speeder and you feel your eyes begin to fog with oncoming tears. Karga says your name, “Walk away and we’ll discuss this later.” You clench your jaw and glare at the bounty agent before turning your back toward him, and placing your hand on your blaster as you sensed it, the tingling in your spine and throughout your body.

Mando whirls around and shoots at the other bounty hunters, jumping onto a repulsorlift vehicle carrying luggage. You quickly take cover and shoot down the other bounty hunters running towards the Mandalorian and hopping onto the repulsorlift. Deep and commanding, he demands the astromech droid, “Drive!”

The droid shakes its head in disapproval and Mando raises his blaster at him, “Drive!” The astromech screeches in fear and drives the repulsorlift vehicle while you and Mando are shooting down as many bounty hunters as you can.

You aim for the sniper above and shoot while Mando covers the ground as you drive by. The astromech is shot down by Karga, you see bright yellow sparks and you hear the droid power down. You hear Mando whisper, “Are you okay?”

To which you hum and nod, “Mhm. I’m fine.”

It’s now deadly quiet as the rest of the hunters step closer toward the repulsorlift. The fork end of the amban rifle peaks through the luggage as Mando aims and blasts bounty hunters into ash. Different species groan and clamor to hide behind various objects.

“That’s one impressive weapon!” Karaga states and Mando’s voice booms as he announces, “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna walk to my ship with her and the kid, and you’re gonna let it happen.”

“No. How about this? We take the kid and the medic, and if you try to stop us, we will kill you and we strip your body for parts.” Karga says menacingly, and suddenly you feel someone pull your leg, dragging you and you yelp out in fear and surprise.

Mando is quick to your aid, using the butt of his rifle and then shocking him with the fork of his weapon, completely stunning the first bounty hunter while you shoot down the second.

You spot the rest of the hunters advancing towards you with their weapons, firing every part of the speeder.

Greef Karga yells, “Don’t hit the target or her!” As a last resort, Mando activates his flamethrower, which causes the bounty hunters to fall back for a moment, only for it to run out of fuel. You lay down next to the Child, craning your head to the right to gaze at his peaceful sleeping form.

You feel the sudden weight of Mando hovering over you and the kid, trying to protect both of you til the end. You hear the Child coo beside you and smile in adoration.

You reach into your satchel and dig for the lightsaber hilt, readying yourself to defend Mando and the Child the moment it comes down to it. Without notice, you hear the whooshing sound of rockets streaking through the air to hit one of the bounty hunters straight through the chest. Fortunately, several fellow members of the Mandalorian Tribe, donning jetpacks and blasters, come to your aid, taking out several bounty hunters.

You watch in awe as the Mandalorians skillfully use their weapons in taking out the remaining bounty hunters, the head infantry lands close to the speeder and says, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!” To which Mando replies, “You’re going to have to relocate the covert.” The head infantry responds, “This is the Way.” And Mando echos back, “This is the Way.”

The firing continues and Mando carries the Child and helps to pull you up. You and the Mandalorian board the Razor Crest, but are soon cornered by Greef Karga, “Hold it right there.” You both turn to face Karga as he states, “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code. And you,” he turns to talk to you, “Since you’re with him they will come after you too now. And the Imps will soon follow.” You raise your chin as you steadily replied, “Let them try.”

The Mandalorian uses his grappling hook to trigger the carbonite chamber, unleashing some tibanna gas in an attempt to blind Karga. You expertly doge his attempts to shoot at you only for you to outstretch your hand, using the Force to let his weapon fly out of his hands, he stands there completely stunned and Mando uses his blaster to shoot him off of the Razor Crest.

The hatch closes and you strap yourself in, the Razor Crest takes off, watching the other Mandalorians provide covering fire through the window. You comfortably soar into the skies of Nevarro. You spot the head infantry flying beside the ship and salute him before flying off.

The Mandalorian makes a remark, “I gotta get one of those.” And you snort in amusement. The Child is seated beside his lap and is reaching for something. The Mandalorian unscrews the metal ball on the stick and gives it to him to play with before taking the Razor Crest into space.

End Notes:

YAYYYYYYYYYYYY! SPACE DAD STORY!

You are a force-sensitive empath! HORRAY!

You can force cloak yourself because this skill tends to come to people as more of a natural talent, for it is extremely difficult to learn otherwise; thus, the reason the ability is rarely seen.

The reader is an Enneagram 2! You are a part of the Heart Center; The benevolent, embrace of the good in other people, engage in every emotional love, you experience and feel their emotions more than anyone else. Helpful, natural nurturers, understanding, generous, supportive, mistaken as the passive, embodiment of what love and embrace look like.

The Mandalorian is an Enneagram One personality type with a Nine wing. Enneagram Ones belong to the body center, along with Eights and Nines, and they naturally make decisions based on gut instinct. The Mandalorian likes to feel in control, particularly of his physical environment. For Enneagram Ones, freedom and independence are important.

SO THAT'S A GLIMPSE INTO THEIR PERSONALITY TYPE AND THE WAY THEY MAKE CHOICES!

All will be revealed in the coming chapters! I can’t wait for you guys to read them AHHHHHH

Thank you for all the reblogs, comments, feedback, and likes! Ya’ll really are too sweet and I truly appreciate your kind words. SEE YA IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!

TAGLIST:

@wastingspaces @avengersheart @lunatic1012 @keepingupwiththeskywalkers

#din djarin x empath!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #mando x you #The Silver Lining #The Silver Lining Masterlist #The Silver Lining Din Djarin #din djarin x fem!reader #pedro pascal x reader

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ginnyw-potter · 5 days

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Happy Birthday and wishing you many more, hope you have a good one.

Sneak peak….Dirty Dancing 😏

Thank you!!

I haven't actually written more than an actual outline so this scene is so fresh I still have to type it as I write this sentence!

The Silver Lining of Dirty Dancing

As they walked into the building, Bill walked off with his three watermelons and then came back and took Harry's two off his hands. Music streamed out as the door in front of him opened.

"Do you dance?" Bill reappeared next to him.

Harry shook his head, remembering the dancing couple earlier. "Not really..."

Bill chuckled and nudged him to come along. They walked in, and the loud music washed over him. He looked at all the people, more scantily clothed than the guests, and dancing without a care in the world. It looked heated and passionate.

The whole room seemed to pause and everyone moved aside. The elegant dancing couple walked in and took a spot in the middle of the dance floor. Harry watched as they started dancing again, close together, hips shifting together. The man's hand swept down her back.

"You'd think they're a couple, hm?" Bill noted.

Harry had forgotten for a moment Bill was still there and looked at him warily. "Aren't they?"

Bill smiled. "No. Dean grew up on the same street as us."

"Us?" His eyebrows rose. "That's your sister?"

I am posting birthday sneak peeks!

#nena-96 #bday fic sneak peek #the silver lining of dirty dancing #TSLODD #SLODD #WIPs #fic #hinny

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raayllum · 7 months

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"You took Ezran's place. And so even when I realized you had lied—and I was angry, I was also angry because… it was brave and loyal of you to do so. It showed how deep your love for your baby brother ran. It made it that much harder to think of what I would have to do. It's still one of the bravest, most selfless things I've ever seen someone do." He smiled softly. "I'd do anything for him," he said, his voice suddenly soft.

He swallowed hard and took Rayla's hand. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Ever. I promise." Rayla smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "I know." He didn't lighten up. "I know I'm not a fighter the way you are, but I'll always do everything I can to keep you safe. Everything." She caught his steady gaze, and frowned. "You can't dabble in Dark Magic again." "I will if I have to." She grabbed his sleeve in her other hand, twisting her fingers around the fabric. "Callum, no, it's not right—" "It doesn't matter," Callum said fiercely. "If it's to save your life, then I'll do it. Every time."

"Rayla told me you used Dark Magic," Tinker said, more stiff and cold. Callum shrank a bit, but his eyes hardened. "I couldn't just let her die." "You'd do it again," Tinker translated. The prince scowled. "I'm not like Aaravos. He twisted the primal to be like Dark Magic. I would never do that." "Unless you felt like you had to," Tinker reiterated. "To save Rayla." "Wouldn't you do anything to save the person you love?"

—in search of silver linings, 2019 / Book Five: Ocean, 2023

#parallels #wishlist achieved #tdp #the dragon prince #oh fanon Season Three. we're really in it now #snake boi callum #thosefiveadoraburrs #my fic #fic: in search of silver linings #characterization #predictions achieved #two pillars #rayllum #once again i am positing that s5 is just the 'in search of silver linings' long con lmao #even the callum-ethari parallels too like damn #i really should reread the fic in full rather than just skim

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rainbow-nerdss · 4 months

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Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @aspecbuddie @theotherbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @thewolvesof1998 and @daffi-990

I finished my draft for Hallmark Christmas fic today!! I will be extremely busy the next few days so I *really* hope I get a chance to read it over and post it in time, but I am v excited to get it out there!

The working title has been Silver Linings, but It actually feels a little more Last Christmas now, so I might do something with that for the actual title... 👀

Here's a teensy little snip in the meantime:

See you at home, Buck. Be safe. It wasn’t a rejection. It wasn’t we need to talk. It was see you at home. Buck couldn’t wait for this shift to end. When the Christmas day shift arrived in the morning, Buck already had one foot out the door, but Bobby wasn’t about to reprimand anyone for changing out of uniform too early today. He was in his car and halfway to Eddie’s before anyone could even say Merry Christmas, exhaustion of a twenty-four hour holiday shift already forgotten.

Tagging (no pressure): @exhuastedpigeon @callmenewbie @loserdiaz @911-on-abc @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @jeeyuns @kwills91 @trenchcoatsandtimetravel @lover-of-mine @housewifebuck @devirnis @spotsandsocks @gayhoediaz

(If anyone wants to be added to/removed from my tag list, just let me know!)

#wip game #tag game #buddie wip #fic: silver linings #or maybe something else #i hate titling things ngl

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encouraging-growth · 1 month

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You ever get so immensely horny that you end up horribly overcome with emotion until you're deep in a heart-hurting, body-trembling, hard-crying breakdown on your couch? Bc that was me last night and it was not a fun time and my eyes still hurt the next morning but I feel better now

#shoutout Copper for coming to my house and holding me til I calmed down #get you an emotional support puppy boyfriend frfr #i did take advantage of my cry-strained voice to record a Severin audio for OF so that's good ig #and I wrote a lil sex/aftercare fic of Orin and Auriel that I'm gonna try to spruce up and post on there too #silver linings I suppose

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lunarrosette · 8 months

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He’s all I’m thinking abt rn :(

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #grant wilson #I read a fic abt him so now he’s all I’ll ever think abt #it’s called silver linings !#go read it it’s a no forgotten realms au #and it’s so good #I fucking love character studies #and like he’s so me sometimes #he makes me so mentally ill #digital artist #lunarrosette’s shit #Lunarrosette can draw

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live-from-flaturn · 3 months

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Last Line Game

I was tagged by @shubaka to post the last line of my current WIP.

From the upcoming chapter of "A Silver Sky, A Golden Night":

“I love you,” Kim grumbled. Each word came as a warm puff of air that ruffled Chay’s curls and tickled the back of his neck. “And Khun is right. Our kind cannot lie, only try to maneuver our way around the truth.” “Ah, good to know.” “You never intend to let him win an argument, do you?” Khun tittered gleefully. Chay grinned right back and gave his brooding Faerie prince another kiss for good measure. “Not a single one.”

I'm tagging @shou-jpeg and @kimkhimhant as well as anyone who wants to share their wips with meeeeee.

#a silver sky a golden night #tag game #wip tag game #last line tag game #please tell me about your fics i want to know #kimchay

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definitelynotshouting · 1 year

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everything i loved and feared (first 1k)

hello scarianblr beloveds this is the unedited very beginning of my completed scarian fic that im posting for the hell of it. fic is 7k rn but that will likely expand after the final draft rewrite<3 so this is just a funky little teaser thats gonna be rewritten anyway, hence why i dont mind sharing.

CWs for: blood, graphic injury, implied character death. Enjoy :]

Grian’s eyes are red now.

It’s an odd color on him– not because it doesn’t suit him, but because it suits him far too well. Like a glove, Scar thinks past the hazy, heady fog settling over his mind. Red like his tattered sweater– like the blood that beads between Scar's neck and shoulder, clouding the water he kneels in. Red like life.

Red like love.

That’s the fog settling thick over his senses. Love, the amalgamation of it, something so beautiful and terrible that anyone else wouldn’t– shouldn’t– look at it head-on. But inside Scar’s chest is a warm purr; he has rolled the die, shown his hand, and now Grian stands over him, vibrating red, red, red. He’s gorgeous like this, all righteous, trembling fury. Scar wants to pull him close and kiss him until they’re both dead.

“You can kill me” he says, and his voice shakes with the cost of this victory. “Grian. You can kill me.”

Above him, an avenging angel falters. Grian’s sword, so swift with its raging swing, lowers by a noticeable fraction. “What? No.”

“For everything you did to me,” Scar says, breathless, “to keep me alive this long– you may slay me, and take the enchanter.” He lowers his head, until his forehead brushes against cool, rippling water. It feels like benediction. It feels like a curse.

Grian will win. It is both the least and most Scar can do for him.

When Grian speaks, his voice is small. “No– no, I can’t. I literally can’t. Scar–”

“Do it,” Scar insists, that eager haze billowing through his veins, unfolding to rest with steady pressure against his bowed spine. Distantly, he wonders why nothing is singing. There should be war horns, trumpets, a blazing, crescendoing melody. Birds, at the very least.

Instead there is only miserable silence.

Grian sucks in an audible breath. “I’m not–” he starts, then breaks off; Scar lifts his head to watch him struggle, how his grip loosens on the hilt of his sword, how his eyes pinch around the edges. Grian flinches, presses his free hand to his head, eyes going middle-distant.

“The spectators want a fight,” he says at last, hollow.

And this is what he's waited for, this moment of realization; the other shoe dropped, the culmination of the game they've waltzed around. Scar smooths his voice, curling it around the two of them with gentle, insistent pressure. “It’s okay, G. You can kill me. You can be the winner.”

For one, long moment, Grian holds his stare, expression flayed open for only Scar to see. Raw and wild, his eyes gleam in the dawning sun– thin strands of hair curl around his ears, damp from their earlier struggle in the pond.

Slow, so slow it’s almost imperceptible, Grian shakes his head. Clenches his jaw. “Scar, they want blood.” Something in his face shifts– some beetled brow, a muscle jumping before smoothing out. He’s shaking: ripples blooming around him as he wavers on his feet, as if adrenaline has finally retracted its claws.

Scar’s shaking too. Even in this, they are together.

Scar opens his mouth– to push, to press, to snap him out of whatever spell holds him in suspension– but Grian beats him to it; his sword lifts from its helpless stance, glittering bright and blue in the sun. His mouth twists, tired affection curling the corners of his lips.

“Scar,” Grian says, “no matter what happens, we can claim this as a double victory. Right?”

The words are a cool caress against his fevered skin. Scar sinks into them, eyes drifting shut– because even now, with victory dancing through his veins, he can’t look Grian in the face when he kills him. “Yes,” he breathes, and braces for the blow, the cut of diamond against his carotid–

It never comes.

Instead, a rush of air as the sword comes down; the sharp, wet schlck of a blade entering flesh; a choked-off, gurgling yelp. Scar’s eyes fly open just as Grian falls to his knees with a splash, and–

And blood is tumbling from his gut in great scarlet waves where his sword is buried, slicking around his hands where he grips the hilt. Grian’s teeth are stained as he grins up at Scar, sharp and feral, eyes alight with more fire than Scar has seen in them since he knelt to die. “You win,” Grian hisses, and shudders, one hand flying out to sink into the silt of the pond they’re both kneeling in. Like a toppling tower, the rest of his body follows suit, falling sideways into bloody water.

The fog clouding his mind is ripped away in one fell swoop. Scar isn’t sure if he screams– all he knows is that one moment Grian is collapsing, and the next Scar is holding him, breath stuttering in his lungs.

“Grian– Grian, no, hang on. Wait, wait, wait, no, no– no, no, no, no. Grian.” His hands find the hilt of Grian’s sword, but make no move to pull it out– that would just kill him faster. It's like he's been punched– the bright, earnest rays of the sun have missed their mark, gilded the wrong death in stunning, flagrant gold. “What are you doing?” he chokes, like that will reverse everything.

Grian was supposed to win. Grian was supposed to be the winner.

“They never said what kind of blood,” Grian says, hazy. His lips wobble. “I can’t– I couldn’t, Scar. I couldn’t kill you.” When he coughs, blood bubbles on his lips. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Scar whispers, fingers shifting to catch in the wet strands of Grian’s hair. “You did that on purpose– Grian, you were supposed to win.”

He’d done everything– cast the die, folded his cards, offered up his life, because Scar knows himself; he could never handle being alone. Not in that emptiness. Maybe it’s selfish, how he’d planned to let Grian take that fall instead– but Scar is selfish. And more than that, he’s in love: awful, truthful, scarlet love, with a man now dying in his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to die,” Scar wails, terror thick in his lungs, despair a weight around his ankle. He leans forward, brushing his forehead against Grian’s, until the trembling puffs of breath from Grian’s lips fan over his own. “Grian– how could you?”

When he pulls back again, Grian grins at him. The sun slips across his face, revealing the pale, faded remnants of freckles scattered over his cheeks. Scar has always wanted to count them. He’s never gotten close enough until now. “Guess I’m just not cut out to be a winner,” he murmurs, one hand lifting to rest, delicate as a butterfly, over Scar’s cheek.

He does not say I love you. He does not say anything at all. Instead he guides Scar’s head down, until their lips brush, the taste of copper flooding Scar’s tongue. Then his hand drops, breath hitching, head lolling back–

Scar wakes up choking on his own desperate scream.

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llondonfog · 1 year

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it's worth it, the soft and gentle demise of general vanrouge; could it be any more fitting, the magic he's used against so many of this child's kin, now is being drained just to see that tiny smile?

#twst silver #twst lilia #lines of a fic that i'll never write #but were enough to send catriona into a Fit so <3 #lettie writes

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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Sweet Silver Linings, Part 3

Summary: you and Curtis are struggling

Pairings: Curtis Everett X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: mentions of D/s dynamics, mentions of bondage, mentions of biting, mentions of spanking, toy play, butt plug, nipple clamps, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Ugh!” Doll looks down the couch at her husband who was peacefully rubbing her exhausted feet when Curtis’ groans of distress ring through their house. “No! You piece of,” he takes a deep breath, throwing the piece of paper he was working into the floor with the other discarded ones, and starting to draw again.

Doodle pokes his nose on his mama’s belly, and gives his tail a wag, looking upstairs. “Yes, Doodle, I think you need to go check on Uncle Curtis. He seems a bit…”

“Oh my god!”

“Distressed. And if he’s distressed then I’m distressed, and if I’m distressed this sweet girl is, and…”

“Doodle, buddy boy, sissy can not be distressed, tell Curtis to come here instead of,” another growl has Doodle’s face looking up at the stairs instead of wanting to nuzzle Doll. “Go, buddy, tell him he needs to come down here and explain himself.”

Doodle wanders up the stairs, and nudges the door open with his nose. His sweet demeanor gives Curtis puppy dog eyes. “They told you to come up here, didn’t they? I’m fine!” He shouts down at his brother and sister in law.

“Curtis Howard Everett, you come down here this instant!”

“Ooh! She full named you,” Curtis groans again, grabbing his sketch pad as he trudges downstairs. “She’s getting practice, but Cozy girl will never need to be full named. She’s going to be the sweetest, cuddliest…”

“Curtis, what cha got?” Doll says, reaching a hand out to the notebook. “Come here, show me what you got.”

“It’s nothing,” he hands over the scribbled on paper, sighing. “I just can’t get it right.”

“Coco,” she smiles, looking up from the paper. “This…this is for her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. For the shop.”

“You can’t get it right because you want it to be perfect for her?” He nods his head, and she gets the biggest tears in her eyes.

“No! Why are you crying?” Hayden gets excited, sitting up and moving to her side. “You’re smiling. Why is she smiling?”

“This is the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m sweet,” Hayden was clearly the baby of his family. Always needing to be center of attention.

“You really like her, huh?” Doll sweetly asks, placing a hand on his cheek. “Like really really like her?”

Curtis takes a moment, but nods his head. He liked you a lot. Hardly knew you, but he was falling. There was something under the surface that he just couldn’t quite get to, but he was falling so hard, and it was frustrating. There was no reason for him to be falling. None whatsoever. But here he was trying to make you something perfect and it just didn’t work.

“Yeah, I really like her. I have so many questions, but I want her to let me in. I’m right there. She talks to me unprompted. Her dog loves me. I can tell. Teeny loves me. Teeny? This girl is so precious she named a giant St. Bernard, Teeny. He’s her emotional support dog, isn’t he?”

“Curtis, Bubs is one of the most precious people I’ve ever met. She’s had a lot happen in her life. She wants to love so hard. I think that’s why she’s standoffish. She’s scared. And if you knew…you would get it, but that's not my story. What I will say, if she’s letting you in, that’s a good thing. She doesn’t take that lightly. She keeps new people at a distance. Thinks she’s bad luck. But this…you’re wanting to simplify her life, and I don’t think anyone has ever done that. She complicates her life, and her brain is always going in different directions. But….this…this is perfect. She’ll love this.”

“It’s not perfect,” Curtis reaches over, grabbing the notebook from his sister in law. This had gotten complicated for no reason. He didn’t want things to be like this. But he would do whatever it took for you to be comfortable with him. “She’s perfect, and I can't compete with that.”

“Then don’t,” Hayden shrugs his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his wife. “Take it from a man that found someone who was perfect. You can’t duplicate them. You can’t give them the perfect scenarios all the time. You can’t do everything. This is what you can do,” he gives a point to his brother’s early drafts of the cabinet. “Instead of trying to make something perfect, make it functional. Let it capture what you know her personality to be. Make her life easier at her store. But you can’t recreate perfection. You’re wasting time on doing that, instead of spending time with her. That’s the point of this to keep you more around her. Then there ya go. This is what you do.”

“I’m not perfect, Haydes.”

“That’s all you got from that, seriously, woman?”

“Haydes is right,” Hayden gives a proud smile at his brother, making sure Curtis heard Doll say that Hayden was right. “You’re thinking too hard. Let things flow, and happen. Spend time with her. If she agreed to this, she wants you there. It’s okay to be a bit nervous. You do have a school boy crush.”

“So you think this draft is okay?” Both Hayden and Doll smile, nodding that it was. “Okay. Okay. I’m just going to let things happen then.”

“Exactly. Let them happen!”

“So, Curtis, tell me why you still think it’s necessary for you to come here?” Doc puts her pen and paper down. Laying her hands in her lap as she stares at the man across from her.

“Well, before it was trying to work through my feelings of losing Jessie, and believing it was my fault. Then it was the fear of doing what I always wanted to do. I want to help people. Not in the way that my dad and brother do, but a more approachable way. Therapy is great, but not everyone has the means for it, you know?”

“Your book is completed, is it not?”

“Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. Technically it was. And it was picked up by a publishing company. But was anything ever really completed? He had a life’s mission. “Yeah, I guess. But…Doc, I think something is wrong with me.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever had a fear of something?”

“Do we not all fear something?”

“But I mean something that is good and fun, and so fucking satisfying.”

“What do you mean?” She fidgets her fingers a bit, thinking about reaching over for her notebook, but Curtis did better without it. He liked eye contact, and it was almost eerie how much he liked it.

“Sex.”

“Oh, I did not see that answer coming. How long has it been since you last had sex?” It was a shame that Curtis didn’t have to actually think about how long it had been. He knew exactly how long it had been. Exactly how each and every day and drug by that he had felt a woman to hold and protect.

“Well over a year.”

“Good looking guy, sweet, confident.”

“I don’t need you to tell me my positive attributes. I have women that hit on me constantly. I lack the response to want to interact with them,” because there was only one, and you weren’t one to pick up on any flirting. He wanted you. No one else. Just you.

“Why?” Curtis was a fascinating patient. He just needed an outside person to talk to, but for the most part he could talk himself to an answer. He just needed someone to listen to him. Especially after dealing with his guilt over Jessie.

“Seeing my sister in law in that place,” he breaks his eye contact to look out into the distance. Remembering the unease he felt about her being at the club. “It was these two men constantly bickering about whose dick was going to get wet by her. They knew without knowing what they were doing. She just needed physical touch. They were passing her around like she was nothing but a fleshlight, just wet skin. Neither one acknowledged how hurt she was and she was using sex to think people loved her.”

“This is all about your sister in law. How do you fit in?”

“I’m getting there. I saw it. Saw her walk out of the chapel, walking funny, and this dead look in her eyes. Only to have some other man needing to use her, and she always left with him. She was this ball of depression, and I took too long to intervene. I saw the older one constantly walking behind her, and grabbing her over her clothes, whispering how her cunt was his. She was just property to him. The other one cared, but didn’t see how she was being used by him either.”

Curtis holds his hand up to Doc, stopping her from asking a question. He was about to make his point. “The one would whisper in her ear, ‘You know who your daddy is, and you know who you belong to.’ And every time I saw a piece of her die. I didn’t know that type of relationship could harm someone.”

“That type of relationship?”

“You know,” she shakes her head no, needing Curtis to elaborate. “A Dom and sub relationship.”

“Oh. Why would you think it harmed her?”

“It clearly did.”

“Maybe I should ask, why do you care if that type of relationship harmed her?”

“Umm…I don’t know. I guess…I guess it’s because that’s how I like things. And I see Doll and my brother, and they don’t have that, and they’re so happy. She calls him daddy, and while I know it’s more than him becoming a father, it’s not in this ownership type of way.”

“Hmm,” she smiles at him, realizing how confused he was in understanding that lifestyle. “What you were witnessing was a very unhealthy D/s relationship. Doll went along with that relationship because as you said, she needed to feel loved. Needed the attention. And she found negative attention. A man that used her vulnerable state and need for a daddy. In a healthy Dominate and sub relationship there are boundaries. Even ownership is fine if both parties agree to that. If they have their rules and their boundaries. You always have to have consent to these things.”

“But what if…I haven’t. But I enjoy a certain type of porn.”

“You mean the type of porn you watch is something you want to act out?” He nods his head, and looks away from her. Completely out of character for him. Curtis had a calming effect around him. But also kept up that eye contact.

“Okay, and what’s wrong with the type of porn you prefer?”

“It’s abusive.”

“How so?”

“Tying someone up. Smacking them. Punishment.”

“With boundaries that include a safe word, knowing your partner, and watching for physical cues, and even their verbal cues on when to stop is a safe way to enjoy extreme sex. It is best to have this type of relationship with someone you trust, and that trusts you. These types of relationships are about being vulnerable with someone. The ultimate trust is given to another person. Someone that will push their limits, but listen, watch, feel, and then in the end will take care of them. You can’t have one extreme without the other. Aftercare is a must in these relationships. They’re for both parties; the dominant and the submissive. Which is why you need an open conversation on what you want in this relationship. That doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you. This is normal, and more common than you realize.”

“How do you mean that?” The eye contact was back. No longer ashamed to look her in the eye. “So this is common? Like, having visions of tying someone up, and…punishing them is normal?”

“It’s a scene. It’s a controlled environment. Would you tie up anyone or punish them unwillingly?”

“No! No. No, I would never take complete control over someone.”

“So you’re saying with boundaries such as them agreeing to it, and giving you a way to know when they’ve had enough that is the only way you would punish someone?”

“Yes,” One syllable, and complete conviction. Curtis wouldn’t hurt anyone. “Why do you think I’m like that?”

Doc takes a deep breath. Both she and Curtis both know that time was nearing an end. “Sometimes it’s a lack of control in your own life. When there’s things we can’t control, you then want to find something that you can. Sometimes it’s because you have no outlet for your frustrations, and while you want to take them out on something or someone, you still want parameters and rules. The bigger question is why do you think that? Was it always there? Was there a break? Was it the porn you liked? A friend or girlfriend? Or was it the options I mentioned earlier? One thing I will say is there’s nothing wrong with you. You acknowledge you don’t want to hurt anyone, but there is an allure to the lifestyle. Make that be your homework. But I believe you want to get out of here early so you can set up to open the door. Do some self reflecting Mr. Everett. And I’ll see you next week.”

Curtis stands, leaning towards Doc to shake her hand, and heads towards the lobby. Waiting patiently for you. Just in case you needed help with the door, and if you didn’t, he was still going to help you. It was who he was, and you deserved to be treated like a princess. Most definitely you needed to be taken care of. Worshiped. And held until you weren’t afraid of your demons anymore. He wanted to do that for you because it’s what you deserved.

Seeing your little SUV pull in, and the big head of Teeny pop up made him even happier. You brought the puppy. And then you get out of your car. Coffee in tow, but also the bag he gifted you on your arm. And a leashed Teeny, so you were still in need of help.

He opens the door, and you don’t break contact with him. Even a small sliver of a smile, “Hi,” he nervously says, his eyes casting down your body for just a split second before ending on Teeny, “Hi to you, too.”

“Hey, Curtis,” you smile, pulling a bit on Teeny’s leash to head into Doc’s office.

The receptionist looks at Curtis with her mouth agape, and he nods his head with a smile. He got a hey and his name. You said his name. You said hey, but you said his name. You had said his name in public, and someone else heard it. She heard it, and she was still shocked.

“I’ll see you next week. Have a delightful rest of your day,” you had said his name. You said it and it was beautiful.

“I like Jacobean,” you almost shout at Curtis when he walks into the store. Armed with a notebook and a bag of things. “What is that?”

“I brought some wood samples with stain,” sitting down his things, you just know you’re going to feel like a complete idiot, but you didn’t care. It had to be said.

“I like cherry wood. It sounds cute, too. Jacobean stained cherry wood, no?”

“It sounds adorable,” he was beautiful. Gone was the jacket, when you first met him, and now short sleeves were exposing his thick sinewed arms. And every inch of his arms and most of his hands were covered in black ink, and you have to take a deep breath to not whimper.

Visions of him wrapping rope around your body, his bicep choking you while he thrusts into your abused cunt, “I’m sorry,” you pant. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he smirks. Why did he look that damn hot with a crooked smile? Did he know what you were thinking? Did he know that you had fantasies of him biting on your shoulder right before he came? Could he have any idea the vile and depraved thoughts you had running through your head about him?

Could almost feel his hand spank your backside, and curse about how you were taking his cock like a filthy little slut. How he had you screaming out his name and begging him to let you come. “You like cream and sugar?”

“Nope, just black,” his smile. His smile was perfection. You can feel the indentions of his teeth on your skin. Can feel his teeth nibbling on your clit. “You, okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired,” lying seemed like the obvious thing to do. Curtis would think you were a freak, and you liked having him here.

“Uhh…why don’t you close down for the day? I can start down here, if you don’t mind. At least it would get some preliminary work done, and I won’t be a burden. Since you know what you want, it won’t take me long to get the lumber. And just have it closed for renovations.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m going to do that. Here’s the key to the shop. Just remember to lock up when you’re done,” it was stifling the thoughts that were annoyingly racing through your head. How were you supposed to function like this? This was insanity. You needed to let it all out. Denying yourself the urge to get off wasn’t healthy.

Waiting at the top of the stairs for Curtis to lock up, you leave Teeny on the couch, and go into your bedroom. Into the walk in closet, and open up a drawer and grab out a dildo, and stick it into the middle of your bedroom floor. Staring at it as you grab a few more things. You would let yourself get some frustrations out. Curtis was not going to have this much power over your mind or your pussy.

It would be absurd to mention this to Curtis. You add nipple clamps to your tits, seething when the rush of pleasurable pain rushes through you, and you lube up a butt plug. Curtis did not control you. He was too nice. He didn’t need your baggage. He didn’t want your baggage. He deserved the world. He deserved to be worshiped. To be treated like a king, and you his…queen didn’t sound right.

You slink to your knees, letting the dildo split you open. “Princess,” you whine, starting to bounce on the toy. It didn’t feel the same. There weren't thick, tatted arms groping you. Forcing you on how to move.

You liked the sound of Princess. King Curtis. You were beneath him. And you wanted him to show you how he owned every part of you. Wanted him to use you like you were his property. Like you were nothing more than wet warm flesh. And even that aftercare that Doc had mentioned didn’t sound too bad if it was with Curtis. Waking up to him kissing over your tender muscles. If only. For now, you would torture yourself because you could never have a man like Curtis.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings

#sweet silver linings #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #cutris everett x fem!reader #curtis everett x y/n #curtis everett x #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett fics #curtis everett fic #Chris Evans fandom #snowpiercer #snowpiercer fanfiction

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stergeon · 19 days

Note

🦈❤️ (for that writer ask post)

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

i’m lucky in that most characters flow pretty easily for me, but i’ve struggled the most with writing ferdinand and bernadetta.

ferdinand’s voice is more challenging to execute than i ever anticipate it will be. i barely featured him in chapter 1 of muscle memory, but it was enough to stress me out. he has this particular tone i can’t seem to nail—he’s overly confident and sunny in a way that can come off as oafish, but that oafishness is usually hiding a clever and thoughtful truth.

in general, i like bernie, but she’s not my favorite lmao. pre-timeskip, i find her to be so tough to write as she spirals for nothing and can easily take control of a scene. it’s hard to keep her on task, and i worry about her coming off cringey. i’ve only made an attempt at writing her in echoes of zanado and i’m not sure i’ll do it again, though i’ll definitely give post-timeskip bernie a chance to shine at some point. gotta reward her for all that growth.

i’ve also taken a few stabs at writing locked tomb fics, but i simply cannot get harrowhark’s voice quite right, so those have yet to see the light of day. alas. maybe i’ll finish one eventually!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

hmmmmm. i don’t feel like i’m particularly skilled at crafting one-liners that stand out or are all that witty. i tend to either be partial to parts of sentences or entire passages that flow well. for whatever reason, i was pleased with the line in muscle memory chapter 2 about kissing the “soft plateau below her navel” even though it’s just describing a tummy lol. the words feel nice together.

i’m gonna cheat and throw a few out here. edelgard’s rant about the cats’ names in her majesty’s favored felines was so fun to write and still cracks me up. she’s so high-drama smdh. love her. there’s also a really stupid sex joke early in that story that’s not even a joke, per se, but also makes me laugh.

i think like you mean it contains some of my most primo navel-gazing angst, and i’m especially fond of the very last paragraph:

She held her like she was the other end of the tether, like she was the only thing keeping her here, like holding her could save her, could give her purpose, could make her worthy, like the heat-on-heat of their intertwined bodies could make meaning of all the things that didn’t make sense in this world. She closed her eyes, and held her, and begged the favor of an absent god, praying that she—that this—could be enough.

i also like this line from chapter eight of at the edge of the void:

And even without her love, he would still choose to make himself a planet and remain in her orbit, knowing full well he would be eventually swallowed by the gravity of a dying sun.

unfortunately, my neuroticism doesn’t let me like it that much because i’ve not put enough thought into whether anyone in fódlan, especially edelgard, has a concept of what gravity is or that suns (plural) can die. i won’t let me have any fun.

#fe3h #fire emblem #sterge.eml #wakingupclean #thank you for the ask!!!#i really posted that ask game and then proceeded to get stoned and sleep for like thirteen hours. OOPS #someone’s insomnia’s been acting up (mine)#i have some lines i’m Very Pleased With coming up in vesties chapter 5 and in a yet-untitled edeleth smut i’m chipping away at #that smut fic is gonna be a lot of fun.#i’m trying to only work on it after i get through some of the vickyvesties though #stergeon can have little an edeleth as a treat #but only after talking shit about silver snow

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theetherealbloom · 8 months

Text

THE SILVER LINING — CH. 3

Chapter Three: I Could Be Your Sacrifice

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families needing medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and the bounty hunters. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Slight angst and then some good o’l fluff at the end of this chapter! I appreciate all the comments and reblogs, thank you so much for the kind words and for being so incredibly supportive. Half the time I second guess myself if this fic is conveying what I want to convey :pp Love you guys!

Song: She Calls Me Back by Noah Kahan

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INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

The sleeping arrangements within the confines of the Razor Crest were undoubtedly tight, the ship's interior bearing witness to the imprint of its dual roles as both a transport vessel and a storage space for the Mandalorian's bounties. Dedicated to this purpose, the lower deck offered minimal comfort but maximal efficiency. It served as both a bunk for Mando's bounties and a restful space for himself, providing enough seating to accommodate a handful of individuals.

However, the sleeping quarters held a singular bed, a testament to his pragmatic nature, a stark contrast to the sentimentality he concealed beneath the metal of his helmet. The offer was extended with an innate honor, the unspoken promise of his desire to ensure your comfort, but you steadfastly resisted, determined not to infringe upon his personal space.

With gentle insistence, a pillow and blanket were procured, a compromise forged amidst the ship's cramped quarters. Your refusal carried a quiet grace, a testament to your ability to understand the intricacies of his character. You cited the importance of his rest, invoking humor in the process, teasing him with a jest about his tireless vigilance in safeguarding you and the child. In response, a subtle tilt of the helmet conveyed more than words ever could.

Nights aboard the Razor Crest had seasoned you, acclimating you to the ship's unyielding metal floors. The chill and vibrations of its machinery became a lullaby, serenading you into slumber as the ship charted its course through the cosmos. Though far from lavish, this makeshift arrangement became a ritual of sorts, a testament to your resilience and adaptability in the face of the galaxy's unforgiving expanse.

However, there were nights when slumber proved elusive, despite the weariness that accumulated through hours spent attending to the child's needs. Those were the moments when you lay sprawled across the ship's floor, a facade of sleepiness concealing your restless thoughts. With practiced nonchalance, you enacted the role of someone lost in slumber, the steady rhythm of your breathing a well-rehearsed act.

In the subdued darkness, a hushed interaction would unfold. As Mando descended the ladder from the flight deck, his presence manifested as a palpable shift in the air. Though the contours of his expression remained obscured behind the enigmatic visor, you sensed the weight of his gaze upon you, an unspoken concern rendered through the ocular grille.

The sprawling expanse of deep space, another night of restless contemplation unfolds. Your thoughts drift like specters, whispering uncertainties and conjuring images that refuse to allow your mind the solace of sleep. As the void outside holds its secrets, your consciousness becomes a ship adrift in its own sea of contemplation.

However, tranquility morphs into chaos as blaring alarms shatter the silence, piercing through the cocoon of your thoughts. The ship shudders violently, a forceful reminder of the volatility of the universe beyond. With a jolt, you are propelled across the interior, the sudden impact rendering the boundaries between you and the Razor Crest momentarily blurred.

With determination to overcome the disorienting disarray, you manage to regain your footing. The insistent vibrations beneath your palms resonate with the urgency of the situation. Grasping onto the ladder, you ascend to the flight deck, your heart racing in synchrony with the blaring alerts that reverberate through the ship.

There, in the pilot's seat, sits the Mandalorian, his presence a reassuring bastion amid the chaos. The Child is secured nearby, nestled within its protective confines. Your voice rings out, laced with concern and a hint of anxiety, "What is happening?"

Mando's response is direct, his command imbued with a stern urgency, "Strap in." Without hesitation, you comply, securing yourself in the seat behind him, the restraints binding you a testament to the gravity of the impending situation. As the ship hurtles forward, the fabric of the universe twists and turns, painting streaks of luminous stars against the canvas of your perception.

"Hand over the child, Mando," the voice crackles over the comlink, the words delivered with a chilling clarity that slices through the tense atmosphere. "I might let you live."

The air vibrates with an electric tension, a symphony of anger and defiance. Blaster fire illuminates the vacuum of space as it dances between the battling ships, a chaotic ballet with life-and-death stakes. Amidst the cacophony, the Razor Crest sustains a blow, the left engine shuddering under the impact. The Child's frightened whimper punctuates the blaring alarms that echo through the ship's corridors. Your grip on the seat's edge tightens, a gesture of both apprehension and determination, mirroring the Mandalorian's resolve.

"Hold on," Mando's voice is a steady anchor, a reassuring reminder that in this perilous dance, he is the one who guides the rhythm. With a deft maneuver, the Razor Crest executes a barrel roll, an attempt to shed the relentless pursuer who clings to their tail. The ship's momentum weaves through the void, an intricate waltz defying the laws of physics. "Come on," his muttered encouragement is laced with both urgency and a fierce determination that speaks volumes.

The dogfight rages on, each maneuver a calculated gamble for survival. Over the comlink, the other bounty hunter's voice sneers, "I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold." The chilling proposition hangs in the air like a chilling fog, a testament to the ruthless persistence of their adversary.

A palpable shift occurs, an imperceptible transformation in the Mandalorian's demeanor. His focus crystallizes his movements a seamless fusion of instinct and skill. In a heartbeat, he tugs a lever, bringing the Crest to an abrupt halt. The ship hangs suspended in space, defiance etched into its very frame. The bounty hunter's vessel hurtles forward, intent on a collision course, a move laced with reckless arrogance. But Mando has other plans.

A fierce glint sparks in his eyes as he maneuvers the Razor Crest, narrowly avoiding the oncoming starfighter's attempted ramming. The moment crystallizes, frozen in time as the enemy vessel glides into the forward crosshairs of the Crest's weaponry. A single, precision-engineered laser cannon shot finds its mark, a brilliant streak of lethal energy. In an instant, the enemy vessel ignites into a radiant blaze, consumed by its own demise.

"That's my line," Mando's retort is a symphony of satisfaction and resolve, the final note in a confrontation that unfolded with calculated precision. The pulsing aftermath is one of victory, a dance of survival and defiance choreographed within the unforgiving expanse of the cosmos.

The Razor Crest floats in space with a damaged engine. You unbuckle yourself and check on the child, he coos at you and you give him a small kiss on the forehead before peering over the Mandalorian’s shoulder.

The alarm continues to beep, and the Mandalorian flicks a few switches, assessing the damages he says, “Losing fuel.”

With another deft flick of a switch, the ship's engine purrs into silence, the hushed hum of energy fading into the quiet chamber. The child, nestled in his cradle, fills the air with his innocent coos and delighted giggles. Meanwhile, the Mandalorian rises, a lithe silhouette moving with purpose behind you. The emergency power is coaxed to life under his skilled hands, and then he returns to the captain's chair, his presence a sturdy anchor amidst the sea of flashing red lights that bathe the ship's interior in an eerie scarlet glow.

A distant planet materializes in the viewport, its familiar contours, and features an unsettling reminder of where you're headed – Tatooine. The planet's name carries an undercurrent of history, a mixture of legends and realities woven into its very fabric.

As the Razor Crest eases into the planet's atmosphere, a voice crackles through the comm, a signal from Mos Eisley Tower punctuating the anticipation. "This is Mos Eisley Tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over."

Mando's response is succinct, his voice steady despite the impending tension. "Copy that. Locked in for three-five."

Guided by the Mandalorian's skilled hand, the ship gracefully descends toward the arid desolation of Mos Eisley, its landing gear meeting the sun-scorched surface with precision. Bay three-five becomes the vessel's designated haven, a moment of respite amidst the vast expanse of Tatooine's desert landscape.

As the Razor Crest settles, you find yourself contemplating the planet's grim reputation. Tatooine, a world subjected to the harsh glare of twin suns, finds itself devoid of the lush resources needed to sustain thriving populations. This barrenness birthed an environment where smugglers and outlaws thrived, a fact evidenced by the tales of the notorious Mos Eisley Cantina and the shadowy dealings that echoed through its walls. Despite its criminal underbelly, Tatooine was not solely defined by its infamous reputation; hardworking settlers carved out their lives amid the sands, a testament to the resilience of those determined to survive.

Mando's gaze turns towards you, the silent exchange of understanding passing between you. His words are a quiet request, laced with concern. "Can you put the child in the safe room downstairs, please?" With a reassuring smile, you affirm his wish and cradle the child, his tiny form bundled in warmth, before making your way to the room below.

As you settle the child, making sure he's comfortable and secure, the docking port announces the arrival of the Razor Crest's journey's end. Your attention turns back to the Mandalorian, who's preparing to disembark down the ramp. You close the door of the safe room with a gentle click, ensuring the child's safety before following the Mandalorian outside.

The scene unfolds before you, a trio of DUM-series pit droids bustling out in a flurry of mechanical efficiency, their programmed task to service the Razor Crest. Yet, the Mandalorian's actions cut through the air like a bolt of lightning, a warning shot aimed at the droids. Instantly, they retreat, their servos whirring in a cacophony of aborted movement.

The sharp retort of blaster fire does not sit well with a woman whose fiery curls frame her determined features. Her voice carries across the space, charged with anger. "Hey! Hey! You damage one of my droids, you'll pay for it." Her words hang in the air, punctuated by her frustrated gestures, a clear indication of her displeasure at the unexpected disruption.

Mando's retort is terse, a clear directive. "Just keep them away from my ship." His words prompt a curious glance from you, a silent question lingering about his aversion to droids.

She, however, is not one to be deterred by his terse response. A retort drips from her lips as she strides forward, embarking on an inspection of the ship. "Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya? Let's look at your ship." Her palms meet the ship's exterior in a series of resounding knocks. "Oof! Look at that. Ugh, you got a lot of carbon scorin' building up top."

The Mandalorian holds its characteristic stoicism as she goes on, "Yeah. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout. Special tool for that one." She appraises the ship's damages with an air of detachment, expertise born of experience. "I am gonna have to rotate that. You got a fuel leak. Look at that, this is a mess. How did you even land? That's gonna set you back."

To her questioning gaze, Mando reveals the extent of his resources, his offer modest but practical. "I've got 500 Imperial Credits."

"That's all you got? Well, what do you guys think?" Her inquiry is met with a chorus of negative responses from the pit droids, their mechanical chitters a testament to her assessment. "That should at least cover the hangar," she concedes, her decision firm.

Mando's promise, however, doesn't escape her skepticism. "I'll get you your money," he assures her.

Her retort is laced with skepticism, a hint of annoyance. "Hmm. I've heard that before."

Mando's response is deliberate, his focus clearly beyond this conversation. "Just remember…"

Her exasperation is evident in her muttered response, a comment half-spoken under her breath. "Yeah, no droids. I heard ya. You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat." Her remark carries an undertone of annoyance, her final word a muttered descriptor. As the Mandalorian turns his attention to you, his grip takes hold of your wrist, pulling you slightly aside.

He leans in, his voice a hushed whisper, his request both practical and heartfelt. "Do you mind keeping an eye on them for the meantime while I go around and look for work?"

Your eyebrows rise in response to his request, your willingness to help apparent. "But I can help–"

His head shakes subtly, his intent clear. "I know what you’re capable of, but I also need you to look out for the kid when he most likely wakes up and causes trouble." The unspoken trust between you is palpable, a testament to the bonds that have been woven between you in the face of shared challenges.

Your lips quirk to the side, a mixture of concern and understanding painting your features. "Alright, but… just… please be careful," you advise, your voice carrying a subtle layer of caution. He acknowledges your words with a brisk nod, his grip on your wrist relinquishing as he turns away. With purposeful steps, he exits the hangar bay, his figure soon melding into the sandy expanse of Mos Eisley's streets.

Your attention shifts to the mechanic, a warm smile gracing your lips as you approach her. "I’m sorry about him… he’s a bit reserved when it comes to new people… comes with the job, I guess."

She meets your words with a knowing grin, her tone tinged with familiarity. "Your partner could use a talkin’ to. The name is Peli, what’s yours?" Her inquisitive gaze holds genuine interest as she extends this unassuming introduction.

You return the sentiment with a gentle nod, offering your name in exchange. Her response carries an inviting air, and her words, and demeanor are both hospitable. "Well, would you like to join me and my droids in a game of sabacc before we start fixin’ up your ship?"

A sigh of relief escapes you, the tension that had been coiled beneath your exterior easing with the offer. "You know what… I’d like that." Your acceptance is genuine, a chance to unwind for a while.

"I'm in and I am gonna raise you three bolts and a motivator," Peli playfully quips, the air light with camaraderie. Your chuckle mingles with her words, the accompanying grumbles of the droids adding a whimsical touch.

However, the levity is shattered by a sudden, piercing shriek that reverberates through the hangar. Instinct propels your head to whip toward the source of the sound, concern flooding your features. Without a second thought, you break into a run, your steps swift and purposeful as you rush toward the Razor Crest.

Peli's voice follows you, a directive laced with urgency. Her command to her droids to retrieve her blaster underscores the seriousness of the situation. Amidst the mounting tension, your focus zeroes in on the scene before you. The Child, upset and distressed, wander within the ship's interior. Your heart clenches in response, and with swift determination, you close the distance.

In a fluid motion, you scoop the little one into your arms, cradling him close to your chest. The shift from alarm to comfort is palpable as you soothe him, your voice gentle and reassuring.

You call out to Peli, your voice carrying the reassurance of a caretaker, "It's fine! The little guy just woke up from his nap."

Peli's response is a mixture of enthusiasm and affection, her voice warm and exclaiming, "Oh, my, my! What a cutie!" You approach her side with the child nestled in your arms, his presence a comforting weight against your chest. Peli's genuine concern for the child is evident as she continues, "Did that grumpy bounty hunter leave you with your mom?”

Your attempt to intervene is met with her uninterrupted stream of conversation, her attention entirely captivated by the small being in your arms. "Uh… Peli…" you start, but she forges ahead, undeterred.

Without missing a beat, she shifts her focus to practical matters, "All right. Now, would you like some food? Are you hungry?" The child coos in response to her soothing voice, prompting Peli to immediately issue commands to her droids, her urgency palpable, "Okay. Fetch us something to eat. Quick!"

Peli's affable demeanor persists as she addresses the child, bestowing upon him a sense of camaraderie, "Yeah, bright eyes? We're a team. Mmm-hmm." Her gaze then lifts to you, a smile gracing her lips as she adds, "Let me go check on those droids to make sure that they find something to eat for the both of you."

You return her smile with gratitude, your appreciation mirrored in your eyes as you respond, "Thank you, Peli. We appreciate it."

AN HOUR LATER…

MOS EISLEY, HANGAR 3-5, TATOOINE – AFTERNOON

With gentle motions, you wiped away the splotches of food from the child's tiny face, the soft fabric of the towel brushing against his delicate skin. As the task is completed, you place the towel aside, your attention solely focused on the little being cradled in your arms. The contentment within you finds its expression in a soft hum, a melody of comfort and care that resonates in the air.

A smile graces your lips, a reflection of the joy that the child's presence brings to your heart. His coos, like musical notes, intertwine with your hum, creating a harmonious symphony of connection. And then, as if a curtain is gently drawn aside, you perceive a subtle shift – a glow, an aura – emanating from the child. It wraps around him like a protective embrace, a light green shade that seems to mirror his innocent spirit.

Meeting your gaze, the child responds to your smile with one of his own, his expression a canvas of pure delight. In his eyes, you sense not just the reflection of your smile, but an entire universe of emotions that only he can convey. It's as if he knows as if he comprehends the significance of your presence, your companionship during Mando's absence.

"Hmm… I suppose you're already aware of my abilities, little one," you mused softly while deftly swaddling the child in a cocoon of fabric. His gaze meets yours, those wide eyes seeming to hold a depth beyond their size. "But you know, it's something I'm still trying to figure out, something I can't quite control... just yet. So perhaps, in a way, we're both on a journey of learning."

As your words gently weave through the air, reaching the child's tiny ears, his response is a melodic coo, a sound that seems to carry the weight of trust and a growing understanding between you. In answer to his expressive delight, your lips mirror the sentiment, curling into a fond smile that speaks volumes of the connection you share.

With each coo and flutter of his eyelids, the child's energy begins to wane, the day's adventures and interactions leaving their mark. Spotting a nearby chair, you settle into it, cradling the child in your arms. The comforting rhythm of your breathing and the warmth of your presence seems to envelop him, and gradually, his eyes start to drift shut, the weight of contentment and fatigue causing them to surrender to sleep.

In the peaceful cocoon of that moment, you both find rest. The child, nestled in your arms, and you, leaning into the chair's embrace, succumb to the soothing embrace of slumber. It's a serene picture, two souls finding solace and comfort in each other's company, a silent testament to the profound connection that has woven its way between you. As the outside world fades into the background, the peaceful symphony of breathing and heartbeats lulls you both into dreams, where adventures continue in the realm of the subconscious, accompanied by the gentle backdrop of trust and understanding that only companionship can bring.

Startled from your peaceful slumber, your eyes snap open at the commanding voice of the Mandalorian, “Where is she? Where are they?”

The child nestled in your arms stirs, his cries soft but insistent. With gentle motions, you attempt to soothe him, your touch and hushed words a source of comfort amid the abrupt awakening.

As you rise from your seat, the atmosphere tinged with a mix of sleepiness and alertness, you find yourself at the center of a scene unfolding before you. Peli's animated protests directed at the Mandalorian seem to reflect the sentiment of having been awoken prematurely, both for you and the child, “Quiet! Do you have any idea how long it took for her and the kid to sleep?”

Emerging into the light, you watch as the Mandalorian approaches with urgency, his footsteps carrying a mix of concern and reassurance. His presence is a testament to the bond you've built that drives him to ensure your safety. Even though the opaque visor of his helmet, his intent is palpable.

His gaze sweeps over you, a silent assessment to ensure your well-being. It's a gesture that speaks volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the importance you hold in his world. As his footsteps halt, his stance emanates both vigilance and relief, his words carrying a note of vulnerability, “I… I panicked… when…”

You nod in understanding, your gaze meeting his through the obscurity of his helmet. Reassurance becomes your unspoken promise, a testament to the depth of your connection. Waves of his worry and anxiety reverberate within you, but you manage to summon a gentle smile, “We’re okay. We’re fine, Peli gave us something to eat, and then the Child and I took a nap together. How about you? You okay? Did you manage to find some work?”

He nods, his words carrying the weight of the situation, “Some rookie, Calcican, wants to track down Fennec Shand, an elite mercenary. Needs some help and he’ll let us keep the credits… he just wants to get in the guild.”

You blink in surprise, your concern surfacing in a furrow of your brows, “Fennec Shand? Are you kriffing kidding me? She’s one of the best sharpshooters in the galaxy. Let me come help you, please.”

Mando's response is a whisper, so soft it seems to hold a universe of emotions, sending a shiver down your spine. You hold your breath involuntarily, his gentle words almost intimate in the quiet, “I need you to stay here and look after the kid, for his sake and my own. Just in case anything happens to me…”

“Don’t. No, you have to come back to us alive. Please…” The plea in your voice carries a raw urgency, your gaze unwavering as it meets his visor, your emotions palpable even through the steel exterior of his helmet.

Something shifts within him, a subtle tremor in his posture that you can sense even without seeing his face. It's as though a current of understanding passes between you two, a connection that transcends words. In your perception, a silvery mist begins to encircle him, a visual manifestation of his protectiveness and an unspoken desire to be closer, to hold you in that moment of uncertainty.

He wills himself to stay in his place, he stretches his gloved fingers before clenching them in a fist, and he gives you a nod, “I asked the rookie to meet me outside with the speeder bikes, we’ll be out in the Dune Sea.”

You blink and offer a nod to the Mandalorian, then shift your attention to Peli, who begins to recount, “Anyway, I started the repair on the fuel leak. I had a ‘couple setbacks I want to talk to you about. You know, I didn't use any droids, as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected. But I figured you were good for the money since you have extra mouths to feed.”

Mando walks inside the Razor Crest to grab some supplies and acknowledges her with a simple nod, gratitude conveyed through his demeanor. With your heart still racing from the encounter with the Child and your earlier nap, you exit the hangar bay beside the Mandalorian. Waiting for you both are the speeder bikes, as promised, with Calican in tow. His voice chimes in, trying to project a sense of accomplishment, “Hey, Mando, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh?”

Mando only gives him a look and he shrugs, “What'd you expect? This ain't Corellia.” Calican then addresses you with a nod and a courteous “Ma'am.”

Holding the child closer, you meet Calican’s greeting with a guarded expression, your skepticism about him evident in your eyes. Trust was a commodity not easily granted in your line of life. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you can see the yellow and black swirling aura around Calican’s figure, a murky haze that stirs a sense of caution within you. The two men mount their speeders and ride off into the vast expanse of the Dune Sea, leaving you with a mixture of concern and an unsettling feeling of impending danger.

A FEW HOURS LATER…

MOS EISLEY — NIGHT

He should have seen it coming, the signs as clear as the twin suns that painted the desert sky. A curse slips through his lips, a low rumble of frustration that mingles with the restless desert winds, carrying his vexation into the vast expanse around him. The Mandalorian's gloved hands maintain a firm grip on the dewback's reins as he guides the sturdy creature back toward the heart of Mos Eisley. The journey, once a routine return, stretches now into the embrace of encroaching nightfall, the creeping shadows a harbinger of the impending storm within him.

His thoughts churned like the grains of sand kicked up by the dewback's steps, caught in a relentless spiral that mirrors the ceaseless swirl of thoughts within him. The weight of responsibility presses heavily on his shoulders, a tempest of anxiety that beats in time with the rhythm of his pulse. Each heartbeat is a reminder, a primal urge that courses through his veins, an unwavering call to safeguard both you and the child at all costs. The images of your faces flicker in his mind, his protective instincts amplified by the connection he's forged with both of you amidst the galaxies' dangers.

As the night's cloak deepens and the desert landscape becomes an indistinct silhouette, the Mandalorian's resolve remains unyielding. He's prepared for whatever challenges lie ahead, the fire of determination burning bright.

Earlier, you had left your lightsaber hilt in your bag and taken a moment to rest with the child cradled in your arms, your guard temporarily lowered after aiding Peli in the Razor Crest's repairs. A brief respite that was shattered all too soon.

Abruptly, you're jolted awake as a blaster clicks against your temple. Calican's voice drips with threat as he gives you a chilling ultimatum, "Make a sound and you won't like the outcome. Cooperate, and we all walk away."

Your throat feels dry as you nervously nod, complying with his demands. He forces you to your feet, maneuvering you and Peli toward the Crest's entrance. Reluctantly, you relinquish the child, your heart aching as you're corralled onto the ship with Peli.

Back at hangar three-five, the Mandalorian's gut churns with unease. Something is amiss, the air thick with an eerie silence. His gaze catches the pit droids cowering in the office, a silent indication that danger lurks.

Calican emerges from the Razor Crest, blaster trained on you and Peli, the child cradled uncomfortably in his grasp. His taunting words slice through the tension, a twisted smile curling his lips, "Took you long enough, Mando."

Mando steps out, blaster aimed at Calican, your figure, and Peli's held hostage in the crosshairs. Calican revels in the reversal of power, his bravado evident as he sneers, “Looks like I'm calling the shots now. Huh, partner? Drop your blaster and raise 'em."

Reluctantly, the Mandalorian complies, his blaster clattering to the ground as he places his hands behind his helmet, his gaze never leaving Calican's threatening form.

With a forceful push, Calican shoves you forward, your footsteps reluctantly crunching in the sandy dirt as you stumble slightly. The metal cuffs he carelessly tosses to the ground glint dully in the faint moonlight, a stark contrast to the tense air that clings to the scene. "Cuff him," Calican orders, his voice dripping with an arrogant authority.

You roll your eyes at his command, the irritation barely concealed as you stoop to pick up the discarded cuffs. A reluctant sigh escapes you as you begin to move toward the Mandalorian, your steps hesitant yet resigned. The cold metal feels heavier in your hands as you draw closer, your gaze fixed on his rigid back. With a careful maneuver, you move behind him, the cuffs clutched tightly in your fingers as you follow Calican's instruction to restrain the Mandalorian.

Calican's taunts cut through the air like a blade, his words seeping with disdain and accusation. "You're a Guild traitor, Mando," he sneers, his tone laden with derision. "And I'm willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape, as well as the pretty little thing you got with you."

The Mandalorian's jaw clenches, his masked face an inscrutable mask that belies the turmoil within him. You sense the simmering waves of anger emanating from him, a fierce wildfire igniting in the depths of his chest. The tension in the air grows, and the silence is almost recognizable, a heavy weight that hangs like a storm cloud. The familiar aura that enveloped him in silvers and greys now seems tainted, the colors shifting to reds and oranges like the crackling flames of a fire unleashed.

Positioned just behind the Mandalorian, you notice a subtle movement in his left hand. It's a flash charge, a device you've seen before in the armory closet of the Crest. Your heart races and a whisper escapes your lips, almost lost in the tension of the moment, "I'll follow your lead."

Calican's voice, dripping with triumph and hubris, slices through the air like a blade. "Fennec was right. Bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary." His finger tightens around the blaster's trigger, ready to end the Mandalorian's life in pursuit of his ambitions.

But in a swift and calculated move, the Mandalorian triggers the flash charge. The room is momentarily engulfed in blinding light, and your instincts kick in immediately. You crouch and seek cover behind a cluster of large equipment, your heart pounding in your chest. Peli seizes the opportunity, her escape facilitated by the distraction.

The Mandalorian's lithe form shifts with practiced agility, seeking the shadows at the periphery of the blinding light. The eruption of blaster fire punctuates the tense atmosphere, the room transformed into a battlefield in the blink of an eye. The distinct snap-hiss of the Mandalorian's weapon adds to the raucousness as he engages in the gunfight.

A precise shot rings out, and the blaster bolt finds its mark. Calican's body jerks as the lethal energy courses through him, and you watch with a mix of relief and dread as he crumples to the ground. You and Peli peek out from your hiding place and move toward the body.

Amidst the aftermath of the confrontation, Mando's terse command rings out, a blend of caution and concern woven into his tone. "Stay back," he instructs, his words a shield against the lingering uncertainty of the situation. His gaze flits to the fallen figure before him, a grim assessment to ensure the danger is truly past.

Peli's voice breaks the tense silence, laden with urgency, "Gotta get it. Where is it?" The shared mission binds you together in a common purpose, each driven by a blend of necessity and the survival instinct that thrives in the harsh corners of the galaxy.

Together, the three of you search, casting wary glances over the room's every shadow and corner. And then, relief unfurls its gentle wings as the child peeks out from behind a stack of barrels. His cherubic face breaks into a smile, the trauma of the encounter seemingly forgotten in the safety of your presence. Babbling with innocent delight, he emerges unscathed from the tumultuous events that have unfolded.

"Ah, there you are, sweet child. Come to us," you murmur, your voice a soothing melody as you scoop him into your arms. His laughter weaves through the air, a testament to his resilience in the face of danger.

Peli's commentary adds a touch of levity to the heaviness that hangs in the air. "That was really loud for your big old ears, wasn't it?" she playfully teases, her fingers dancing over the child's tummy, earning infectious giggles in response.

Meanwhile, Mando retrieves the bag of credits from the fallen bounty hunter's pockets, a quiet declaration of triumph. With a few strides, he joins your group, his presence a comforting anchor. As the pouch is opened, credits tumble into Peli's waiting hands, a tangible reassurance that carries the weight of unspoken gratitude.

Peli's smile holds both warmth and genuine relief as she affirms, "Yeah. Yes, this is gonna cover you." The exchange, brief as it is, speaks volumes about the unspoken understanding and camaraderie forged in the crucible of shared danger.

Mando's nod is a silent farewell, an affirmation of the transaction's completion. Turning, he ascends the ramp and disappears into the maw of the Razor Crest. Your glance lingers with gratitude and a faint smile is shared with Peli, a wordless acknowledgment of her aid in this precarious moment.

Soon, you find yourself strapping into your seat within the ship, the child nestled safely in your arms. The Mandalorian's deft hands guide the ship's controls, and the gentle thrum of engines fills the air as the Razor Crest ascends into the sky.

As the Razor Crest slips into the embrace of hyperspace, you rise from your seat, your heart still heavy with the weight of recent events. The hum of the ship's engines forms a steady backdrop to your thoughts, amplifying the nervousness that coils within you. The decision to speak with Mando simmers in your mind, finally finding its way to your lips.

Swallowing your apprehension, you approach him, a soft urgency propelling you forward. He swivels around in the pilot's chair, his visor fixing upon you with an expectant gaze. Silence hangs heavy, stretching between you like a taut wire.

A cascade of feelings tangle within you, knotting your words as they attempt to tumble out. Your fingers toy with one another, a physical manifestation of the tangled thoughts swirling in your mind. The slight tremor in your voice becomes evident as you begin, "I'm sorry."

His tilted head invites you to continue, his silence acting as an unspoken invitation to lay your thoughts bare.

You let out a soft breath, the warmth of the ship cocooning you in this moment of vulnerability. "Earlier, while helping Peli with the repairs, the child was playing nearby. We got caught up in the work, and it's just… I guess exhaustion caught up with me. I didn't mean to let my guard down."

A gentle awkwardness colors your confession, your words imbued with a kind of sincerity that comes only from raw honesty. The palms of your hands grow damp with a nervous energy, a sign of the earnestness that propels you to continue.

"And about the sleeping on the Crest," you stammer, "I mean, I was trying to catch up on sleep… it's not like I haven't been sleeping well, per se…" You falter, feeling your cheeks warm under his covered gaze.

A pause lingers, and you find yourself fumbling for the right words. "I just wanted to say that today, after the repairs, I was more tired than usual, and I'm sorry that it impacted my alertness. I know that I'm supposed to be looking after the child, and I… I failed in that."

The quiet echoes in the space between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. His visor remains trained on you, an enigma waiting to be unraveled.

Your voice softens further, on the edge of vulnerability, "I know you rely on me to help, and I'm grateful for that. I just… I don't want to let you down, or the child." An earnest sincerity paints your words, an unspoken yearning to prove your worth and dedication.

Still, his silence persists, and your heart flutters in your chest, a tempest of uncertainty and vulnerability.

Tears threaten to gather at the corners of your eyes, your emotions swirling in the midst of this poignant moment. With a faint, awkward smile, you conclude, "I just needed you to know that, I suppose."

And as you stand there, exposed and raw, the quiet communication shared between your eyes speaks volumes, bridging the gap between your hesitant words and his silent understanding.

He flicks on the auto-pilot and rises, his figure a silent directive that beckons you to follow. His voice is a simple command, "Follow me. Bring the kid."

You move, cradling the child in your arms with a tenderness that comes so naturally now. Carefully, you descend the ladder after the Mandalorian, your steps measured to ensure the safety of the precious cargo you carry. Once at the bottom, he waits for you, his stance both patient and protective. His arms extend as he takes the sleeping child, his touch gentle yet firm.

In the dimly lit room, the Mandalorian places the child in his safe haven, the hammock swaying slightly as he arranges the little one, making certain of his peaceful slumber. With a hiss, the door seals shut, leaving the child in his safe haven.

His gaze shifts to you, and you realize that the next part of this unspoken sequence is your turn to follow. He resumes his path, and you fall into step behind him, your instincts guiding you through the ship's corridors. Eventually, he turns a corner, a door revealing his sleeping quarters.

The urge to protest tugs at you, the understanding of his gesture and the weight of its implications churning in your mind. "Mando–"

He halts, facing you head-on, his beskar armor a silent testament to his resolve. And then, he corrects you with a softness that feels like a whispered confession, "Din."

Confusion and surprise tangle in your words, "Uh… I'm sorry?"

He tilts his head and meets your gaze with an unyielding steadiness, his tone so matter-of-fact that it takes a moment for his words to truly register, "My name is Din. Din Djarin."

The declaration hangs in the air, a revelation that seems to open a new chapter. Your lips part soundlessly, and then close, the weight of his name resting on your tongue. And then, a smile blooms on your face, the sheer warmth of the moment washing over you. Your joy is palpable, evident in your widened smile that seems to light up the space. Unintentionally, your reaction affects him, his pulse quickening beneath his beskar armor.

With a soft chuckle, you test the syllables of his name, your voice giving it a musical lilt that dances through the air. The way his name feels on your lips sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Your slight accent adds a touch of musicality to the way you utter his name, the mere sound causing his heart to pick up its pace. It's an odd sort of connection, the way your voice shapes his name, making it feel like something entirely new, something that belongs in this exact moment.

"Well, Din Djarin, thank you for offering your um… bed… but like I said before I'm fine–"

He cuts through your words with a gentle yet resolute command, "You just said you weren't sleeping well."

A nervous chuckle escapes you, a feigned nonchalance as you attempt to downplay your previous statement, "Did I? Must've slipped my mind. But, it's okay, I'll be–"

"Stop."

The abruptness of his single word leaves you momentarily speechless, your lips parting slightly as you meet his unwavering gaze. He steps closer, his presence encroaching on your personal space, and an involuntary reflex makes you lean back slightly, your heart pulsing in your chest as you wait for his next words.

"We can share the bed."

Your mouth falls open in a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, your voice catching for a moment, "Um… Mand– Din, no offense but your bed will barely fit the two of us."

Din's response is a casual shrug, his demeanor unfazed by the logistics, "So?"

Your eyebrows ascend to your hairline, your eyes widening incredulously, "I– but you wouldn't be able to take off your helmet and actually get some rest."

The tilt of his helmeted head conveys a sort of indifference, his conviction in the matter clear, "I'll be fine."

Your concern is evident in your voice as you continue to protest, "But–"

"Are we just gonna keep going back and forth about this, or are we actually gonna try and get some rest?" His words flow from his lips so easily, leaving you gaping at him for a moment before you manage to blink and respond, "Are you… sure? Like, really sure?"

His helmeted head gives a single, affirmative nod, his unwavering assurance resonating in his voice, "Of course."

Unstoppable force meets an immovable object. The tension in the room is palpable, like a charged energy lingering between you two. You let out a deep breath, your shoulders rising and falling with the weight of the decision, "Okay… I'll just use the refresher to get ready for bed real quick…"

Din's acknowledgment is marked by another nod. You turn on your heel and retrace your steps down the hall to the refresher, your thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation and nerves. The sound of the water hitting the metal basin is a comforting rhythm, its steady cadence grounding you. You allow the warmth of the water to wash away the day's dust and uncertainty, letting the soothing sensation lull your racing heart.

Once you're out of the refresher, clad in more comfortable attire, you find your way back to Din's quarters. He's already made himself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the bed, his helmet still on his head but the rest of the armor was placed to the side on the floor, leaving him in his black long sleeves and shorts. The soft ambient lighting casts gentle shadows, adding an air of intimacy to the moment.

Swallowing your nervousness, you approach the bed, your gaze drawn to the space next to him. The thought of sharing such an intimate space with him feels simultaneously exhilarating and nerve-wracking. As you settle down, you can't help but feel acutely aware of his presence beside you.

As the bed dips under your weight, Din's attention turns to you. There's a subtle tension in the air, the silence pregnant with unspoken words. The moment feels fragile, delicate, like the hushed prelude of a song waiting to be played.

Din breaks the silence, his voice a calming reassurance, "Goodnight."

You offer a shy smile, your heart beating a little faster as you reply, "Goodnight, Din."

With those simple words, a new chapter begins in the space between you and the Mandalorian, a chapter defined by shared vulnerability and a budding connection. As the quiet settles around you both, the ship's gentle hum lulls you into a peaceful slumber, nestled in the warmth of companionship and the promise of a new day.

END NOTES:

YIEEEEEE ONE BED TROPE AND THE NAME REVEAL??? OOOOO??? WHATS GOIN’ ON OVER HERE??? I hope the pacing so far is okay… and yes, yes, we’ll tap into the reader’s empath abilities more soon, dw! Especially in the next chapter <3

TAGLIST:

@wastingspaces @avengersheart @lunatic1012 @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @mxltifxnd0m @syviiss @luckyzipperscissorsbat @avengersheart @dins-riduur-anthe @lizlil @n7cje @scoliobean @ofmusesandsecrets

#din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin masterlist #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #etherealupdates #the silver lining #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian rewrite #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal masterlist

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