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stellarstarwarsimagines · 4 years ago

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Five Times Din Accidentally Turned You On

Pairing - Din Djarin x Reader

Summary - It’s embarrassing how a man whose face you have never seen is able to turn you on so quickly without even realizing it.

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - brief description of an injury, but that’s it!

When you had agreed to start working with the Mandalorian and met the little green menace, you knew that your life was going to be turned upside down into chaos.

You had expected most of that chaos to come from the bugger, not from your apparent lack of control over your hormones.

It was ridiculous. There was no way that you should be this attracted to a man whose face you had never seen. If your mother could see you right now, she would think that you were crazy. Of course, she thought you were crazy already for traveling with a Mandalorian around the Galaxy, but this would be a whole new level for her.

Yet, here you stood, a little goblin attached at your hip, watching the tension rising with mounting anxiety. You clutched the kid closer to your side as Mando confronted the man, who you now knew wasn’t a Mandalorian, but a Marshal instead, asking him where he got his armor.

“Bought it off some Jawas.” He answered, taking a sip of his spotchka.

“Hand it over.”

Maker he was so damn menacing when he was like this. Even without being able to see his face, you felt a shiver going down your spine from his tone. He was so intimidating; you didn’t see how anyone stood a chance.

You also didn’t see how you continued to find it so kriffing attractive.

“Look, pal, I’m sure you call the shots where you come from, but ‘round here, I’m the one tells folks what to do.” Vanth replied.

“Take it off.” Mando said, stepping forward. “Or I will.”

As soon as he said those words, all you could think about was him saying them in . . . another context. There was no way you could control your response. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself after you let out the oddest little half squeak / half choked sound. You bit your lip as you watched everyone in the room, the bartender, Cobb Vanth, and even Mando’s helmet tilt in your direction. You even felt the little womp rat’s head turn towards you curiously. Which gave you the idea. “I - the kid - I’m gonna - while you two work this out.” You said, gesturing to him before hurrying outside.

As soon as you stepped out of the bar, you took a deep breath, and then let out a loud groan of embarrassment. Looking down at the kid, he gave you a look that clearly said he was disgruntled at being blamed for a noise you made.

“I’m sorry, buddy, sometimes your dad . . .” You were not about to tell this little guy how hot you thought his dad was. “You’ve got to take one for the team this time okay? I’ll get you cookies to make up for it later.” You added when he didn’t seem like he was pleased with that.

At least bribery worked with him.

____________________

For as long as you could remember, you loved flying. You didn’t know where it had come from, since your mom was scared of heights and you didn’t know anything about your father other than he had been a farmer, but from the moment that you looked up into the sky and saw a ship soaring overhead, you had loved it. Getting the chance to live on a ship and see the galaxy that way was another reason you had said yes to Mando when he asked.

Flying on a ship with a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was nothing like you expected though.

Your eyes drifted back and forth from the sky to Mando, too captivated by the sight in front of you to be scared. Tie fighters were shooting at you from what seemed like every direction, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be worried. Mando would take care of you. He always did.

You glanced over at the child who was buckled up in a seat next to you, his little green hands in the air as he cooed and giggled in excitement. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“Hang on,” Mando said to the two of you, and your arm reached out to the kid, close enough to where you could grab him if he went flying. You held your breath as the Crest began to fall for a moment until Mando engaged it once more, spinning it in circles to avoid the tie fighter’s blasts. The Child’s laughter became louder in your ears as you grabbed a hold of his clothes, but your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you, adrenaline pounding in your veins as you came closer and closer -

Then he blasted it out of the sky, as you knew he would.

You let out a cheer, echoed by the gremlin next to you, and leaned forward, finding a bit of Mando’s arm that wasn’t covered in armor and giving it a squeeze. “That was amazing! I’ll never understand how you can do that so easily.” You told him, your voice as breathless as if you had been the one flying.

“Wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.” He said, and by the way his muscles tensed under your hand, you got the feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

It was no secret that Mando was protective of you. He had been from the start, but hearing him say it like that? Almost . . . possessive? Maker, the way it made you feel. You opened your mouth. You weren’t sure what you were going to say, but before you could, he interrupted you. “And the kid of course. Not too bad, huh kid?” He asked, looking at him over his shoulder.

The little womp rat gagged, expelling the remains of his blue cookies.

____________________

All of this was way out of your league, that was obvious enough. The Jedi, the Force, all of those things had been over your head from the start. They had been legends for so long, it was hard to believe that the little green gremlin you had been looking after, Grogu, you corrected yourself, was one of them.

You watched as the Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, beckoned Din over to her, deciding to use Din to get Grogu to show his powers. The bond the two of them shared had grown even more so over the past couple of months, and you had to admit, if anyone could get Grogu to use his powers, it would be Din.

Sure enough, after some coddling, Grogu made his favorite little silver ball fly from Din’s fingers to his hand. The smile on your face widened as Din spoke. “Good job! Good job, kid!” He exclaimed, stepping towards him. “You see that?” He asked you and Ahsoka without waiting for an answer. He stopped in front of him, bending down to his level, “that’s right. I knew you could do it.” He took the silver ball from him, “Very good.”

Warmth filled your chest at the proud tone in his voice. The way that he interacted with Grogu was one of the cutest things that you had ever seen. While he wasn’t the kid’s biological father, you knew that he was close enough. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how great he would be with his own kids, if he decided to have them one day.

. . . maybe with you.

The intrusive thought had the heat rushing to your face, and you cleared your throat as if it would help get the images out of your mind.

“Are you all right?” Ahsoka asked from next to you.

You nodded, but from the smirk on her lips, you got the feeling that her and her Jedi mind tricks knew exactly why you had gone into a coughing fit.

____________________

“You’re getting better.”

The words should have been a comfort to you. Din had been teaching you fighting techniques for months, but now that the kid - Grogu, had been taken, you were practicing with renewed vigor as you all geared up for a mission to find Moff Gideon’s coordinates. You knew that you were getting better, and Din didn’t say anything he didn’t mean, but you knew it wasn’t enough. “I can’t get the kick.” You mumbled, brushing some of your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

He nodded, and your heart rate kicked up even more as he moved around behind you. He was so close you could hear every slide of that beskar as it moved with him. “You need to widen your stance.” He gave a gentle kick to your left foot, and you obediently spread your leg further apart. “Adjust your hips like this . . .” The cool leather of his gloves landed on your hips, moving them into position. “Now find your center of gravity.” He added, his voice even lower than normal.

It turned your brain to mush. How the hell were you supposed to concentrate like this? The man you desired more than anything was so close to you that you could feel every exhale of that beskar chest piece against your back, hear every breath as it exited his helmet.

“You can do it.” Din said, his hands giving your hips a little squeeze.

You remembered him saying those words. To a little green goblin that had stolen your heart. A child you were determined to get back. The thought managed to snap you back into focus, and with a deep breath you executed the move to perfection.

Well, sorta.

Din caught you as you stumbled back from the momentum, his fast reflexes allowing him to wrap his arm around your waist and catch your back against his hard chest with a soft chuckle. The sound, so rarely heard, made your stomach swirl with butterflies. “Good girl. Just have to work on your balance.”

Good girl? Good girl? Dank farrik was he trying to kill you? You stumbled out of his arms, heat rushing to your face. “I’ve got to - I can’t - I’ve got to go.” You couldn’t be around him for a second longer or you were pretty sure you’d lose your mind and do something stupid like beg him to call you that again. Preferably with no clothes on.

Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could tell by the tilt of his helmet in your direction that he was confused.

You didn’t stick around long enough to give him the chance to ask any questions.

____________________

Everything had happened so quickly it turned into a blur in your mind. Storming the ship, getting shot by a blaster and having to be dragged by Fennic and Bo-Katan onto the bridge while you tried not to scream at the pain in your thigh, Din arriving with Grogu and the dark saber in his hands, and Moff Gideon in his custody. Then there was the DarkTroopers arriving and subsequently being destroyed by a Jedi.

And as soon as you had gotten Grogu back . . . he was gone again.

You didn’t look when Din took his helmet off. Your eyes stayed glued to Grogu as soon as you had seen his hands move to the helmet. It seemed . . . disrespectful to look. This moment was for the two of them, no one else. When Grogu was gone, the helmet went back on, and without anything to distract you from the pain anymore, you let out a whimper.

Din rushed to your side at once, and you thought he might have been grateful for something to focus on other than your little family of three now becoming one of two. He lifted you into his arms without a second thought, and after some directions from Bo-Katan, carried you to a small medbay where he got to work on your wound.

Watching him was a nice distraction as he ripped open the leg of your pants until he could see all of the wound. The display was already stirring something inside of you, and it escalated as he took his gloves off and touched you for the first time with his bare hands.

They were large, but of course you already knew that. The gentleness they touched you with though . . . it was a sharp contrast to the way he had ripped your pants. He touched you as if he wasn’t worthy to be touching you. Hesitant and soft, every movement of his fingers slow and careful as if you were going to be scared away. When he pressed against the edge of your wound, the whimper that left your lips wasn’t only because of the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough through his helmet as he grabbed ahold of some bacta spray from a table nearby. While the bacta helped the pain, it didn’t help your racing heart.

It was embarrassing. More so than it had ever been, that you couldn’t get your feelings under control. Surely he had to notice. The amount of times you had done something stupid because you had taken what he said the wrong way or touched you was numerous. How could he not know? Had he been humoring you because you were good with the kid?

And now that Grogu was gone, did he even want you around anymore?

The sudden thought made you tense because while it had come out of nowhere, it could be true. Yes, you could do some simple repairs and cook, but your main job had been watching after Grogu. He didn’t need that now. He had survived fine by himself before you got there, what’s to say he wouldn’t want to go back to that? He’d never given you any indication that he didn’t. Was this the last time the two of you would be together?

Attentive as always, he noticed the shift in your mood at once. He spoke your name, soft and almost melodic. “What are you thinking about?”

Of course the one time you most needed to lie to him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not after what had happened. “Do you want me to go?” You whispered, looking down at the ground. You couldn’t stand to see what his expression might be.

There was a moment’s pause that made your heartbeat pick up, and for the first time around Din, not in a good way. “What?” He asked, his voice sounding a little strangled.

As was your normal response when you got nervous, you started babbling. “I know I mostly looked after the kid. I’m not a fighter . . . I’m not a Mandalorian . . . I’m a nuisance and another mouth to feed. If you want me to go, I can go.” Would it break your heart? Absolutely, but you never wanted to be somewhere you weren’t wanted.

“Stop,” was all he said, so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

But you continued, unable to keep the words from leaving your mouth. “Bo-Katan or Fett can drop me off at the nearest planet, and you won’t -”

There was a loud clunk as a helmet of beskar hit the floor. You jumped, the sound startling you and you watched as it rolled a bit, stopping a couple of feet away. “Look at me.”

It was the second time you had heard his voice without the helmet, but it struck you harder this time. Maker it was beautiful. Gruff and low, yet somehow he was so . . . soft spoken as well. As if he wasn’t sure how to talk without his helmet, and you guessed he probably wasn’t. You wanted to do what he asked. You wanted to know what he looked like, but it still felt so private . . .

He said your name again, and you almost started crying at how tenderly he spoke it. His hand found your chin, tilting it up to reveal his facial hair covered jaw, his pale, pink lips, and pointed nose, all the way to the most beautiful, most expressive brown eyes you had ever seen.

Din Djarin was in fact, every bit as handsome as you imagined him to be, which made your next words so much harder for you to say. “I have feelings for you.” You gasped out. “Strong - really strong ones, and they’re not going to go away. So if you can’t deal with that I need to -”

His hands cupped your cheeks and all of the sudden, Din was leaning closer. So close that your breath mingled with his and everything around the two of you seemed to vanish. There was nothing else that mattered except this moment. You expected him to say something, anything that would cut this tension that hung in the air, but he didn’t.

Instead he closed the small distance between the two of you and kissed you.

It was soft. Oh, so much softer than you ever expected him to be capable of doing. Then you realized how stupid that was of you to think, because Din had never been anything but soft with the people that he cared about.

For a moment you didn’t move, still surprised that he was kissing you, but then you couldn’t hold back. Your lips moved against his, as lightly as his were moving against yours. Your fingers were itching to touch him, to tangle in those messy brown waves, but you were afraid to scare him off. So they hung by your side at a safe distance while Din continued to kiss you and make sure that you never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again.

After what seemed like hours, and you wouldn’t complain if it had been, he pulled back, but not far enough to put any real distance between the two of you, instead pressing his forehead against your own. “Just because I gave up the kid, doesn’t mean I want to give you up too.” You let out a soft sigh as his lips left gentle kisses across your jaw and cheek. “Stay with me. Stay cyar’ika.” He whispered against your skin.

As if anything could pull you away now.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #star wars imagine

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generallynerdy · 4 years ago

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Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

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“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din.

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right.

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

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theboredwritertm · 4 years ago

Note

hi if you write smut.... maybe mando being the reader’s first time?? if not, ignore this :))

Innuendo

A/N: I’m going to admit this was the first request I received (ever) for The Mandalorian and it’s been gathering dust for the past couple of weeks (because I’m a simp for Cobb Vanth apparently??) Anyway, so sorry it’s taken this long, anon. I haven’t written this kind of thing before, but always love the chance to try new subject matter. Thanks for sending it through! I’ll admit this piece felt kind of clunky as I was writing it, but since I’m (sorta) sticking to a posting schedule now, I just wanted to get it done. And apparently, I can’t write something without backstory, so it got a little long!

Rating: 18+ for adult situations

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Awful jokes and innuendos, awkwardness, a clueless Din, probably swearing, consensual sex, loss of virginity

Word Count: 5930 (Once again, consider the first 3000 words terrible foreplay)

Summary: After putting up with months of your supposedly-unintentional innuendos, Din finally takes charge…only to find out things aren’t quite what he expected.

He’d picked you up like a Bantha tick and hadn’t been able to shake you since.

You’d managed to argue your way into a semi-permanent position onboard the Crest after what he would call a rescue, but what you still stubbornly referred to as an ‘assisted retreat’, and it didn’t look like you planned on leaving any time soon.

So, he was stuck with you. At least that’s how he liked to think of the situation.

Never mind that it was nice to have someone to come back to after a long mission that could actually talk back to him. Or that you kept the ship neat and tidy. Or that you were practically a live-in babysitter for the little one at this point. Not to mention the way you always managed to throw together decent meals for the three of you that didn’t always come out of a pack – and that you seemed to enjoy doing so.

And never mind that he liked listening to your soft, happy hums as you stirred together whatever ingredients you had managed to pull together, and that he’d stand in the doorway, silent as a shadow as he took this in, thinking to himself that if a Bantha was half as lucky to pick up a tick like you, it could do much worse for itself.

But what really got to him were the jokes.

You weren’t what he would consider shy, not since you seemed to have no problem at all talking back to him when he had grown so used to others shrinking back at the mere sight of him – still, he hadn’t been expecting the first comment that had just sort of slipped out of you after a few weeks of being in each other’s company. By that point you were comfortable enough to throw the odd sarcastic quip around at each other without having to worry about someone getting offended, so that’s what he had decided to take it as: a joke. At least, the first time.

Since the Crest was prone to the odd malfunction, given its age and what he guessed to be a few too many battles before it was decommissioned, it hadn’t surprised him to walk into a cockpit full of smoke one day. What had surprised him was the way you had stepped into the room, taken one look around as you waved the smoke from your face, and said, “Is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

He’d taken it as he thought he should. A bad joke. You were prone to them as he had come to find, and there’d been plenty of times that he’d heard you use the same kind of lines on people you needed something from. In his case, he guessed that something was shelter and a place to lay low for a while. And he had obliged.

The second time wasn’t as bad. It was worse. Terrible, even. He had no idea what you’d been going for, but as he’d approached the ship after a particularly grueling job and found you standing on the ramp, one foot balanced on a crate and look of mock-seduction, you’d cocked an eyebrow and greeted him with, “Hey, handsome. Looking for a ride?”

His response? A semi-confused, completely weary, “It’s my ship,” as he’d passed you by.

The third time he thought maybe he’d just taken it the wrong way.

You’d been discussing his work, how long it had been between jobs, and how you were both getting a little light on credits. You’d shaken your head, lounging sideways in the co-pilot seat in a way that always looked uncomfortable to him, but seemed just fine to you, when you’d said, “I don’t get it. There’s got to be work out there somewhere.” Then you’d paused for a moment before adding, “If I looked hard enough, I’m sure I could find a few openings for you to fill.” He had frowned and glanced over, certain he’d caught the passing ghost of a smirk on your lips before you resumed looking completely innocent, as if you were simply pondering the tricky predicament you found yourselves in.

Then there was the touching.

At first, he’d found excuses to move out of your reach, an attempt to make his knee-jerk reaction to shrug you off look less obvious. Then one day he’d exercised some restraint as you’d popped a warm, friendly hand on his thigh before getting up from the co-pilot’s seat, announcing you were ready for bed, and he’d realized…he kind of liked it. What, to you, (he was sure) was just fleeting, friendly touches – something ordinary and human he had been deprived of growing up – started to become something he would linger on for hours, sometimes days afterwards. There was something frustrating in the way you could make something that felt so intimate to him look so casual to you.

Another time, more recently, was probably the worst of the lot – but only because of the effect it’d had on him.

During the last stop-off, you’d both been standing in the holding bay surveying the handful of acquisitions he had stored in carbonite. Work had finally picked up, and you’d proven surprisingly helpful in acquiring them, but in that particular instance, there had been a slight problem – two of them were destined for the same planet, but the cities were in complete opposite directions. The timeframes to meet the employers would never have allowed him to make both trips. So, you’d stepped up, placing a hand on his arm as you’d surveyed the captives and said, “Look, I’ve never been much of a delivery person, but I’m more than happy to handle your package for you, just this once.” He’d stared at you, glancing down briefly at the hand on his armor, then up at your smile. “What do you say?” you’d asked, eyes never leaving his visor.

It had taken a troubling amount of self-control not to close up the ramp and show you just how okay with that proposition he was. Because it had been a long time since he’d last gotten the chance. He’d blame the dry spell on the kid, on new responsibilities that hadn’t been there before, but it had been like this for well-over a year, way before the Child had even come into his life. Gone were the days of his youth where he could pick someone out of a bustling cantina crowd and lead them off silently to some grimy bathroom or backroom for a quick fuck – them, for the thrill of being with one of his kind, and him, out of sheer physical need. He’d made peace with the fact that those days were behind him (and considering the state of some of those bathrooms – and some of the partners – it was probably for the best). But that didn’t mean that the need went away. And then there was you.

You, with your perfect skin and the glow of youth still about you. Your long, shiny hair that always made his fingers twitch with need to reach out and run them through it. Your (cute) annoying laugh, and the way you would crinkle up your nose as you found something he’d said particularly funny for some reason he could never figure out (him, fumbling with switches from the pilot’s seat as he attempted to focus, ignoring the smile prickling at his own mouth as the sweet sound of your giggling flipped the doofus switch in his brain). You with the form-fitting pants you sometimes wore when a mission called for something you could move easily in, ones that made his own pants feel a little more form fitting when he stared for long enough to let his mind wander.

You and your damn jokes.

In the end, much to his surprise, it wasn’t a joke that had finally sent him over the edge. It was a simple word, and this time you actually had context to back you up, to assure him that it wasn’t you just fucking with him. Given the situation, it absolutely shouldn’t have had the effect on him that it did. But it had triggered something in him that even he didn’t know he was into.

The kid had been seated in his usual spot, in the seat behind Din’s, when you’d walked in and spotted his big eyes beginning to droop. You had developed a routine with him now – dinner, a bit of bonding time with Din in the cockpit, then bed – and so far, it had seemed to work well for the little guy. You were new to the whole childcare thing, but it made it easier for you to know where punishment and reward was warranted – especially since you were terrible at telling him off. One look at his little face and all wrongdoings were forgotten, something Din never seemed particularly impressed with (even if he was just as guilty of it as you were).

You approached the seat, reaching down to scoop up the sleepy bundle, and pulled him close.

“Come on, little one. Let’s leave daddy to his thing. Time for bed.”

As you turned and headed for the steps leading down to his cot, you failed to notice the way Din had stiffened in his seat. He turned his head to watch you go, eyes dropping down to linger on your ass as the word replayed in his mind. Then he turned back to the flight console, hand lingering over it in a split-moment of indecision, before he flicked on auto-pilot and got to his feet.

Enough was enough.

You had absolutely been fucking with him.

The first time it had just sort of slipped out, you’ll admit. After years of dealing with the Guild, which what was honestly a bit of a boys’ club, you’d developed the shitty flirting as a reflex to seem more at ease with whoever you were working with (and, okay, sometimes it got you better jobs, too. So what?) But after catching Din’s initial reaction (back when you knew him solely as the strong, silent Mando) you knew it was a thread you had to tug at. And tug at it, you had, just to see the man unravel.

You knew the risks, knew the Mandalorian’s reputation, but part of you had wondered how far you could take it…how far you wanted it to go.

You were about to find out.

As you pressed the button to close up the baby’s metal capsule, smiling as you caught one last glimpse of his sleeping form, you turned to find yourself face-to-helmet with the man himself. Even without seeing his face, there was still an intensity to the way he was looking at you, how he leaned in until you have no choice but to back yourself up against the cold steel of the wall.

“This needs to stop,” he says, tone full of warning. Though you could have sworn there was a touch of something else to his voice. You want to say it sounds like desperation, but that feels a little self-indulgent, even for you.

“I’m sorry. Did you want to put the kid to bed? I just thought—”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

His hand comes up to rest beside you on the wall, as he leans in closer, effectively boxing you in.

Oh, boy.

You wonder if this is the same technique he uses on people he’s trying to get information from and if it should be having this effect on you. You’re almost certain it’s fear that you should be feeling, not, uh, this. You clear your throat and look up at him, wracking your brain for what you’ve done or said in the last ten minutes to warrant this kind of reaction from him, especially given the more obvious attempts to rile him up over the past couple of months. You’d picked up the kid, same as you did every other night. Maybe it was the way you’d bent over to do it. You glance down briefly at your clothes, but it’s not a particularly revealing outfit. You’d worn much less in front of him before with far less reaction. Maybe it was something you’d said?

Come on, little one. Let’s leave daddy to-

Oh.

The word leaves your mouth as a soft question intended mainly for yourself, a thought given voice. Din stiffens immediately, across from you. You look up at him, realizing at the same time he does that you’ve caught on.

“Wait, really? Is that what this abou—?”

His other hand comes up towards your throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to choke you (and you’re a little concerned that the feeling you get from that thought still isn’t fear) but his touch is gentle. His hand comes to rest on the side of your neck, thumb against your cheek as he looks at you for a moment before his voice comes through once more.

“Say it again.”

You keep your gaze trained on his visor, where you’re sure his eyes are currently burning into you, and feel heat flooding in opposite directions in your body; up to your face, and down between your legs. And you feel ridiculous. You had never been into that kind of thing before, and you feel silly saying it; but if there’s one thing you are into, it’s the big guy in front of you – the one telling you to say this one little word, just for him – and having him this close talking to you like this, well it might just be worth the humiliation. Hell, maybe that’s something you’re into, as well.

“Daddy?”

The hand on the wall next to you pulls back as he growls, and slams forward fast enough to make you jump, smacking against the light switch, bathing you both in sudden darkness. You feel him lean in closer, certain that if you were to move your head even slightly forward it would come into contact with the cold beskar of his helmet.

“Do you want this?” his voice, gravelly with lust, sounds through the modulator, as the hand on your neck begins to slide downwards.

Shit.

Even if you had wanted to say no before – you hadn’t – you’re sure the low rumble in his tone would have changed your mind. You’d never heard him keyed up like this before. He always had a way of keeping it together, of staying in control, but you’d been messing with him for so long, teasing, casually throwing your innuendos around, knowing exactly what you were doing to him. You don’t know why you feel so surprised that it’s finally come down to this. It was kind of like a daydream, a fantasy finally coming true, and you feel completely unprepared.

“I do, Din, seriously, but, uh, there’s just—”

“What is it?”

You wonder how you’re going to break it to him. Honestly, you feel like a fucking fraud after everything you’ve put him through. You feel like you’ve been leading him on. You sigh and duck your head as you make your confession.

“I’ve never done this before.”

You don’t know how to explain it, but you feel him suddenly deflate, as if the tension in the room has been replaced with something akin to disappointment.

“You’re joking?” And for once, you’re not.

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out the way they do, and even though he can’t say he’s any less turned on by this revelation he knows there are implications there that can’t be ignored if he wants to keep going. Only, right now, he’s not feeling very patient.

You wince at the level of exasperation in his tone. “No.”

There’s silence for a moment and you have to reach out to feel that he’s still there, your hand landing on his chest plate. His hand comes up to rest on top of yours, and you think that maybe its to pull it away, that the lights will come back on at any moment and this opportunity will disappear forever, but he holds it there, thinking things over.

“How much experience do you have? Any?”

There’s a change to his tone, now. He sounds curious.

“Yeah, I mean I’ve…”

Why does this feel so fucking awkward suddenly? You’ve spent the last six months in this man’s daily company, and while that might not seem like a lot of time in terms of getting to know a person, a majority of that was spent in the confined space of the Crest. You know each other’s routines now; all the little habits and pet peeves you can only pick up on when living in close quarters with someone else. You know he likes silence at meal times, but that he’s more open to conversation after time away on a job, and you’ve come to be able to tell just from his posture if that job had gone well. You know some of each other’s history – him mostly learning yours, since you’re by far the chattier person – yet, still, your face is hot with embarrassment as you recall the handful of experiences you’ve had. You’d never talked about this kind of stuff. You’d only ever joked about it.

“You know, like, mouth stuff.”

“Mouth stuff?” he repeats, and you swear there’s laughter in his voice when he says it.

Your face is beginning to feel unbearably hot, and you’re sure that if he decided to read your heat signature right now your skin would look like you’d just spent a week straight wandering the Tatooine desert.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Hm,” he replies thoughtfully, like he does and that maybe he’s picturing it, “What else?”

“Hand—”

“Hand stuff?” he cuts you off, undeniably making fun of you now.

You smack him in the chest plate, only managing to send a sting through your hand in the process, then push forward as if to move past him, like you think you could make your way anywhere in this darkness. “You know what? Maybe I don’t want this, after all.”

It’s a blatant lie, but you’re starting to think maybe humiliation’s not your thing after all.

He stops you and you don’t resist. You’d been wanting this pretty much from day one, back when he’d assisted with your retreat after a hunt had gone sideways – from the moment you’d watched him swagger into the cantina and stand calmly between you and the half-dozen armed men who were protecting their wanted leader. Back when you’d been just a young, fellow hunter in need of aid.

“Tell me what you want,” he asks you now.

You think about it for all of two seconds. “I want y—This. I want this.” You stumble over what is almost too much of a confession. It feels too soon to tell heavy truths like that, so you settle for what you already know he’s offering. “Just…go easy.”

There’s a silence that seems to drag out in the darkness, then a hiss as he removes his helmet. You feel his body move closer to yours, and you swear that’s his hair brushing your cheek as he leans in and says, “I can do that.”

He scoops you up without warning, reminding of how quick and strong he can be even when he’s weighed down by all that armor, and you find you can’t help yourself as you say:

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

Without the helmet, his sigh meets your skin as a warm huff across your face.

“Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” you reply without hesitation, feeling him still beneath you.

“No more jokes. Please.”

You laugh at the exasperation in his voice and find yourself caught completely off guard when you hear a huff of breath escape him that might have passed for laughter, too, but before you can say anything you find yourself being whisked away towards what you assume is the small space of his sleeping quarters. He seems to know his way well enough to not bump into anything along the way, but even so you hug yourself in tight to avoid any knocks to the head. You look up as a door rasps open in front of you and you can only barely make out the outline of the bed. Din is quick to place you down on it before he drops his helmet to the floor and starts tugging off his armor, placing it somewhere nearby. You sit on the edge of the mattress staring awkwardly into the darkness, knowing you should probably start undressing, too, but suddenly feeling self-conscious despite the pitch darkness that surrounds you.

“Do you want me to undress you?” Din asks, and his tone is gentle enough for it to be a serious question.

You shake your head in response after thinking it over for a minute before remembering he can’t see you.

“You’ll have to use your words,” he says, “The lights need to stay off.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “Is that okay?”

You know it’s not him asking if you’re expecting him to betray his creed in order for this to happen; it’s him asking if you’re okay with not being able to see anything for your first time.

Your first time.

Urgh. It sounds so juvenile when you think about it that way, but so far, it’s living up to the adolescent kind of awkwardness you had expected, back when you had actually been an adolescent. You were past that now, and if you’re being honest with yourself that’s part of what’s making you feel self-conscious about this whole thing. You feel like this should have happened a long time ago. You wonder if Din thinks it odd that you’ve left it for this long.

“That’s fine,” you tell him quickly. Though you wish you could see him, not only to know what you’ll be working with, but also because doing it this way adds a layer of anonymity you didn’t necessarily want to associate with your first time. You’d always pictured it being with someone you felt close to – as cliché as it sounded, someone who was special to you. And even though that was true in this case, not being able to see that certain someone was detracting from the whole experience.

You feel movement in front of you and a large, warm hand finds your knee, running it over the fabric that still covers your body.

“We don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind,” Din tells you. His voice is different without the helmet; softer, gentler. Or maybe it’s just the circumstances that has him talking to you this way. You’d heard him use this kind of tone on the Child, and you had always admired the level of patience he always managed to show the kid, but you’d never found yourself on the receiving end of it like this before. It’s comforting.

Comforting enough to confirm your decision.

His hand moves away as he feels you start to shimmy out of your clothes. Your top goes first, up and over your head, joining his pile on the floor, then you reach down for the button on the front of your pants. You pause, realizing how exposed you’ll be, even with the cool air meeting your already-exposed nipples. This is a different kind of exposed, you think; more intimate. You give yourself a moment.

“May I?” he asks, and you’re surprised enough by his politeness that you nod, forgetting again he can’t see you, and breath out, “Yeah.”

You move your hand and let him take over, feeling his deft fingers make quick work of your button and zipper before he starts to tug the fabric down your legs, taking your pants and underwear all in one go. His hands find your knees and you sigh at the skin-on-skin contact, never expecting the man to feel this warm. You hear him drop down to his knees and suddenly feel warm breath between your legs. You make to close your legs at the unexpected sensation, unsure about having him this close to that area, but his hands come up to pull them back apart.

“What are you doing?” you ask, only to distract you both, because your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest at how fast this is moving.

“Mouth stuff,” he replies simply.

It’s simple, dry humor, but you swear he never makes you laugh more than when he catches you off guard with stuff like that. You don’t think anyone else would believe you if you tried to tell them how funny he can be without even trying. The joke manages to diffuse some of your anxiety and you relax back onto the bed, trusting him with whatever he’s about to do. Still, you gasp when his mouth meets your core, and he hums happily against you. You’ve done this with someone once before, but the memory feels clumsy compared to what Din is doing now; his grip tight around your waist and tongue immediately finding the right places. You try not to think about where he’s had the practice, focusing instead on the sensation he’s creating with a simple flick of his tongue.

You start to make noises you don’t think have ever come from you before, unable to help yourself with the sudden assault on your sensitive nerve endings. He pauses from what he’s doing as if struck by a sudden thought, smiling at the way you whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

“Have you ever cum before?” he asks.

“I think so,” you reply, but if you were being completely honest, you’re not sure. And least, not with another person. You’re pretty sure you’ve gotten there on your own. You think. You feel like that’s something you should know for sure.

“You think so?” he repeats, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve had, you know, urges, I took care of them, then they were gone.”

He makes a thoughtful sound and ones of his thumbs finds your clit, rubbing a couple of circles before he dips it down to your center to scoop up some of the wetness there to bring back up again.

“You don’t sound very sure,” he says casually, like he’s not driving you crazy right now with a simple touch. Feeling slightly pathetic, you can only whine, your brain feeling scrambled as his assault on your clit empties it of all coherent thought. “Next time I ask you, I want you to be a little more certain,” he tells you, and without warning dives back in, his tongue taking over from his thumb at a much faster pace. Your back arches off the bed and he slips his free arm across your hips, holding you in place.

You soon feel pressure at your entrance as he presses a finger carefully against it and in your frenzied state you push forward onto it, forgetting in a moment of desperate need your body’s inexperience with something like that. You’re wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, but it’s still a foreign feeling having something inside of you, and you realize that’s only one finger. Before you can start to imagine how something larger is going to feel, he presses the finger upwards inside of you and hits a spot you’ve never felt before. You cry out, caught completely off guard as the tight feeling in your lower belly breaks and you cum hard against him, hips bucking uncontrollably against his face. He growls against you, but doesn’t stop moving until your hips do.

“Fuck,” you whine, still panting as he slides his finger out of you and gives you one last lick. Still sensitive, you yelp and jerk back from the sensation, making him chuckle.

“Now you can say you’ve cum,” he tells you, and hell if he doesn’t sound proud of himself for giving you that.

“Yeah,” you agree, still barely able to form a proper thought. Then one comes to you. You sit up. He’s getting to his feet in front of you and it’s put him at the perfect height for what you have in mind.

He’s not expecting it when your hand finds his length, giving away his surprise with a sharp intake of breath. You take a moment to guess at his size, thinking once again how it’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, but any thought of pain is completely overridden by the very idea of having him inside you at all. But one thing at a time – you want to explore a few things first.

“Do you mind if I return the favor?” you ask him. You’re feeling different after your orgasm – feeling a sudden, renewed confidence – and the way his breath hitches as you start to pump him up and down sends a thrill through your body. He doesn’t reply, answering instead with a simple touch as his hands find your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’ve done this before, too, but unlike your partner’s attempt on you at the time, yours had proven more successful.

You bob your head forward to find him, lips meeting the head of his cock and parting to let it enter. As your tongue laps at its underside, Din drops his head back with a moan that only encourages you further. You take as much of him inside your mouth as you can, letting the salty taste of him hit as close to the back of your throat as you’re comfortable with, and his grip tightens on your head as he fights the urge to buck forward. You’d said to go easy, and he’s mindful of that, but picturing what you must look like right now, face pink and glowing from your orgasm, mouth stuffed with his cock, he wishes he could flick the light on for a second just to see it. You guide your head back and forth, taking in all the sounds he’s making for you, testing particular places just to see what else you can make him do. All the while he continues to stroke your hair, murmuring praise that sounds strained as tries to force the words out, things like, ‘Good girl’ and ‘Yeah, just like that’.

All the praise starts to go to your head though, it seems, as you forget your earlier feelings of humiliation and whisper back, “You like that, daddy?” Then you pick up your pace and have him moaning to the point where he has to stop you. He gently grabs your head, pulling his hips back and plucking himself from your mouth with a slick ‘pop’.

“We’re going to have to stop there, sweet girl, or your going to make me cum.”

You simply look up to where his voice is coming from and make a sad little hum, any self-conscious thoughts or anxiety long gone at the sound of his half-ruined tone, and you find yourself eagerly awaiting the next step, your body begging for further touch. He chuckles at your reaction and leans down to find your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss, both of you groaning as you taste each other. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with him, and as he moves forward and forces you back onto the bed, you find your legs come up automatically to wrap around him. That’s when you feel him, hard and pressing into your thigh.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks, as he grabs his length and rubs his tip between your folds to coat himself with your wetness. You moan when he passes over your clit and give yourself a moment to bask in the sensation as he continues to rub over that area.

“Just go slow,” you tell him, then you feel his cock move down from your clit to your entrance, now that you’ve finally given him permission. He only applies the slightest pressure, letting you get used to each new sensation as he introduces it, but you’re so slick down there that he begins to slip in. You tense, waiting for the sharp sensation you’re sure is coming.

“Relax.” Din’s hips have stilled, and he reaches up in the darkness to run his thumb across your cheek, soothing you. “Deep breaths, okay? I’ll make it feel good for you.”

You nod, and this time he feels the movement against his hand and doesn’t ask you to voice it, instead taking it as his cue to continue on. There’s a momentary sharp, burning sensation deep inside as you feel everything stretch, but as he slowly begins to move his hips, you find it fades more and more with each thrust, your wetness coating him and amplifying your pleasure. You’ve never felt this full before, not in this way, but he’s big enough to be hitting all your best spots at the same time. You’ve never felt this close to cumming this quickly.

“Shit.”

Hearing that single word, he starts to pick up speed and you clutch at whatever part of him you can reach, giving yourself up to the sensation as you feel that electric, tightening sensation starting again in your lower belly.

“Do you think you’re close?” he pants, because he knows he is – dangerously so – but he wants to keep true to his word. He wants to make this experience just as good for you.

You fail to answer, unable to stop the harsh cries leaving your mouth instead, and you don’t have time to tell him before the feeling breaks inside of you again and you’re pulsing around him. You cry out, louder than before, and this is enough to send him over the edge, too. He slips out at the last moment, and you feel warm bursts of liquid squirt across your stomach.

“Sorry,” he pants, grunting as he braces himself on one hand and then shivers through a couple of aftershocks, “I didn’t— I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, voice just as breathless. And it is fine. You couldn’t care less about it. Your entire body feels more relaxed than it has in months. You feel spent in the best possible way and right now you’d be fine to just fall into a pile on the sheets and sleep.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body close to yours in the small space, warm and sweaty, and you’re surprised when he slips an arm underneath you to bring you closer. “So, was that okay? Do you feel okay? Sore?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, I’m okay.” The words come out as a few huffs of breath and, still high on endorphins, the noise makes you laugh.

Din gives you a squeeze at the familiar sound, smiling to himself in the darkness. Then he makes a thoughtful noise.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s nothing. It’s just…You’ve never been in here before.”

“So?” You gaze around in the darkness, thinking it is a little cramped compared to the space you’d made for yourself in the much larger cargo hold, and realize maybe that’s what he’s hinting at.

“I think you should cum here more often.”

“Did you just…?” You sit up to look at him the darkness, never in a million years expecting such a horrible, so very like-you joke to be uttered by the man and he yanks you back down and pulls you close, ignoring the sticky mess he’s made of you.

Then you hear a sound you’re not familiar with, and feel his warm breath against you as he laughs.

“Din Djarin, that joke was terrible.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and heaves a sigh that suggests fast approaching sleep. “I learned from the best.”

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #fic requests #the mandalorian #din djarin imagines #din djarin

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readbythestarlight · 3 years ago

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BOBF chapter 4: The Gathering Storm

“Boba Fett partners with Fennec Shand” what?? they’ve been parters this whole time

Oh wait maybe this means this is when he partners with her after she gets shot in TM

Which means our flashbacks are catching up to present day?

I’m still mad about the Tuskens just FYI

Hmmm so is this where the plan to take over the palace starts to come into play? And his motivation is to fix Tatooine for the Tuskens?

Banthas are giant desert dogs now huh

Oh good a burp joke

Oh wait did I hear a hint of a Specific Theme in there?

FENNEC

What’s the timeline of this show exactly because like we start with him after the sarlacc. How long was he in there? And then how long was he with the Tuskens? Because the events of Mando are 5ish years after ROTJ (supposedly)? The passing of time here isn’t very clear. Not that it matters I’m just curious.

Honestly tho I’ve been dying to know how he found Fennec so I’m excited

Oh god it’s them again

Wait

Them…. BEFORE Boba met them in present day?

What

Why are they even here

Thanks I hate this tie in

Techno cyberpunk kids are not what I want

“Aren’t you a little old to be here” oh go choke

I mean seeing how she got her cool cybernetics is neat but I don’t like the feel of the scene. The music?

Oh look stinky melons! So they DO stink and they didn’t just give Cobb a rancid one.

Hi yes anyone wanna write some fic of Fennec dealing with some of the trauma that comes with having your body heavily modified without your consent even if it was to save your life?

Bonding through almost dying in the desert awwww

So yeah he’s not an idiot he shouldn’t need her to tell him that bikers weren’t behind killing the Tuskens

“My debt is paid” girl please you’re destined to become his bestie

The Slave I has just been sitting in there for 5 years huh

Anyway Fennec continues to be the most badass and my wife

Boba being an animal guy is both adorable and unexpected

“Now go! Find other banthas, make baby banthas! Go!” Might possibly be my least favorite line of the series

Idk if Temuera Morrison *actually* said he feels like Boba talks too much but sometimes I agree.

“Kill that bloated pig who double-crossed me” wait…. Who are we talking about. Fortuna?? How did he double cross Boba??

Okay now this feels sincere and I’m soft about Boba who found a kind of peace with the Tuskens and who was ready to stop being a hunter and just live a normal life with people he cared about

Oh this tech is NEAT

Fennec has ALL the cool toys

Fennec continues to be too cool for this show

Ouch the SI is looking rough

Right okay so Boba pre-bacta treatments can kick a Gammorean’s ass, but then later AFTER he’s had treatments and should theoretically be stronger, needs the Gamoreans to taken down people kicking HIS ass. Make it make sense.

Fennec my Queen

Ohhhh badass shot as the ramp closed

“Next time?” Yeah what next time I thought you were ~leaving :)

I’d have loved to see a little more than “one mission and now we’re buds” but hey

Oh is he gonna blow up the fucking sarlaac??

Wait I’m sorry the ship can fit down in there? *doubts*

Oh wait it wasn’t in there just…. Zooming in somehow

RIP the sarlacc

“Next time don’t touch my buttons” I don’t want to laugh and yet I did

“I’m tired of our kind dying because of the idiocy of others” I am once again confused by his motivations for becoming daimyo

“You can only get so far without a tribe” okay I’m into that line

“Completely healed”???

“What about the scars on the inside” Good question

I do continue to love the colorful parts of Mos Espa (just not the power rangers mopeds)

lol Wookiees rip your arms off

Welcome to the palace family Krrsantan or however you spell your name

I like “hey mate”

Stuff is finally going to be happening now maybe…?

Cool final shot that like exactly fits how I imagined the upper portions of the palace with a balcony and all

Overall MUCH better than ep 3 thank GOD my only real objection is the obnoxious cyberpunks/ “the mods”

#bobf #bobf spoilers #the book of boba fett

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captainkappa · 4 years ago

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More modern DinCobb bc ive got the brain rot apparently

High school AU but Cobb is the cool social studies teacher who teaches for like 20 min and then regals the kids with stories and life lessons they’ll actually need

(yeah I know Cobb being marshal means it might be a better parallel to make him be principal, but im driving the car)

(plus Cobb interacting with teens = him interacting with the town and showing how much he cares bc marhsal of small Tatooine town and teacher are both thankless jobs)

Jo is the student teacher in his class

Din is the substitute teacher who is dead quiet for most of the class but then some shenanigans happen and all the kids come out of the class like “Yo, Mr. Djarin is so cool!!”

Outside of work, Din is very much an overworked dad working multiple jobs who always feels guilty leaving Grogu in aftercare

Cobb just kind of hears about Din through the grapevine, maybe they share a free period in the teacher’s lounge once, but Din isn’t around enough because again, substitute

But then, Din loses one of his many jobs and is stressed about the lack of income

But he’s saved because a teacher is going out on maternity leave so the school needs a longer commitment from him

And Din is not used to like, actually teaching from the lesson plans provided for him, but he’s determined (questionable, but the kids seem amused)

and would you look at that, Cobb and Din’s classrooms are right across the hall from each other who would’ve thought

Cobb finally gets to interact with Din for long stretches of time and they bond over such Great Activities such as:

Monitoring the halls between classes

Frantically borrowing school supplies from each other because the school doesn’t pay them enough to stock it themselves

School spirit week (Din is horrified that this school actually goes all out for spirit week?? so he has to as well? Well he doesn’t have to, but if wearing school colors will get Cobb to stop giving him those damn puppy eyes, so be it)

The first time Cobb meets Grogu and has to excuse himself from the room because “oh no, not only is Din cute he’s a dad who cares so much”

Jo is forced to watch all this from the sidelines, silently judging Cobb for not putting two and two together that the pining is Mutual

#dincobb #marshmando #and if youre wonder why theres so much modern dincobb in my head #its because im afraid of fuckign with the eldritch monster that is star wars canon #(they say as they plan a dincobb fic that does just that)#the mandalorian #star wars #sw #also yall can do with my ideas what you wish #they are put into the ether for someone else to deal with #just credit the inspo to me

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randomingoftherandomness · 4 years ago

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okay i don't know if you write mpreg so if not feel free to ignore this. but for a prompt: din feeling huge and uncomfortable as he gets closer to his due date and cobb being as supportive as he can. just the two of them being very excited to become dads. thanks so much if you do fill it!

A/N: Listen. I saw the word ‘Mpreg’ and that was a whole lotta yeses ringing in my brain :)

Enjoy!

- -

Din doesn’t know what stings the most; the knowledge of his Beskar armour in the locked chest at their foot of their bed, the way he feels like he swallowed two planets that seem to take permanent residence on his bladder or the way he struggles a little when Grogu asks to be picked up.

He knows Cobb has given the kid a talking to that essentially boiled down to, ‘your Dad is due any day now’ and ‘he doesn’t love you any less just because he can’t pick you up’. The thought of those big brown eyes blinking slowly at Cobb as he processes the words fills him with a strange, gentle fondness that he knows is nothing less but love for his son. Because no matter how many children he may bear, Grogu will always be his eldest and the most precious thing to his heart.

Oh, he knows love isn’t a finite source. There’ll be plenty of love to add and multiply from when the new baby comes along. Their family is strong and his clan may have started from a clan of two, they’ll soon be a clan of four and Din cannot wait.

“I’d asked for your thoughts but I have a feeling that you’re gonna make me rub your feet for them.”

Din leans back against the nest of pillows, kicking out his legs with a smile and a sigh, wriggling his toes. Cobb scoffs at the display but crawls up onto their bed, stealing a quick kiss from Din’s lips and settling down to pull a foot into his lap and begins to knead.

Bliss sings through his veins and it’s hard to keep his moans stifled and buried in the back of his throat. From the glint in Cobb’s eye, he knows what this is doing to Din.

“Don’t look so smug,” Din groans, swatting ineffectually at him. “You did this to me.”

“That I damn well did.” The smugness intensifies. Din gives up trying to formulate a retort back. There isn’t any use when Cobb trails his knuckles down the arch of his foot and it leaves him little more than a singular thread of happiness.

“Where’s--”

“With Peli. She swung by saying that she needed some bonding time with him,” Cobb says, running his hands slowly, climbing up his calf, lingering on his knee. With a wicked smile that spells nothing but trouble, he moves like lightning to loom over Din.

There isn’t any doubt in him that he can still take the man in a one on one fight. Even with a big bump at his midsection, Din knows he would best Cobb and they both know it. But it was far more exciting to wait and see what the other man has in store for them both.

“You know what this means, right?”

Tilting his head, Din considers it. There is a myriad of answers and many variations of each that he can give, but instead, he settles on a simple, “What?”

Cobb leans in once more, this time kissing him with deliberate languidness that has him curling his toes at the first taste of tongue to tongue. “This means, darling,” He says, punctuating each word with a gentle nip to Din’s lips. “We can start picking out baby names.”

Din has to huff a soft laugh into the open slide of their mouths. Sure, they’ll pick names. With a deft roll of their bodies, he lets the shifting weight of his midsection bear him down to pin Cobb down by the hips. They’ll talk names, but only after he’s done with the man.

By the smile he receives, Cobb’s thinking the same thing.

[send me a prompt!]

#dincobb #din djarin x cobb vanth #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #mpreg #gab writes stuff

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leylinefiction · 3 years ago

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The Mandalorian: Broken

Chapter 1: The New Arrival

Chapter 2: Serendipity

There have only been a handful of times in his life when fortune has been so great that it passed into serendipitous territory. This is one of those times and Din has not needed it more than now.

Cast out of his covert, unable to see Grogu during his training, and trying to pass time with random jobs that do nothing to take the sting out of his circumstances, he feels as if his navigation is broken. He had already been planning on coming to Tattooine to pick up the ship that Peli Motto had for him, possibly pay a visit to Fett who may be able to offer some wisdom to help with his recalibration of purpose. When Shand drops him a holo that the kid is with her and Fett, he makes sure to get to the palace as soon as possible.

When he arrives, he is surprised to see an unfamiliar face sitting at Fett’s table. Even more surprising is to see Grogu curled up in her garments. Shand didn’t mention a caregiver being with the child and this certainly isn’t Skywalker. He takes a moment to watch the two of them. The kid is obviously bonded to the woman and there’s a twinge of jealousy. Was he replaced that easily?

But then Grogu turns his head and sees Din standing at the foot of stairs. The noise he emits startles everyone in the room, including him. The sight of Grogu scampering across the table to get to him dispels any and all feelings of inadequacy. Grogu takes a much larger leap than he had seen before and Din catches him midair.

“Hey, kid! That was pretty impressive!”

Grogu coos up at him, his little hands patting Din’s helmet. He starts to tell him that he can’t take it off but he pauses. Why can’t he take it off? Fett and Shand have already seen his face. According to his covert he’s an apostate until he makes his way to Mandalore. The only person who hasn’t seen him is the woman seated at the table but Grogu obviously trusts her. But he can’t allow himself to get used to removing his helmet, even for the kid. He made a mistake and now starts the atonement.

“Not this time, kid. Sorry.”

Grogu emits a disappointed noise, his ears drooping as Din moves to properly greet Fett and Shand. “Thank you for letting me know he was here.”

“Of course,” Fett motions to one of the chairs around the table and sits down at the head of the table. “Shand tells me you were already on your way to Tattooine.”

Din takes a chair that is across from the new face. Grogu seems happy that he can still see the woman. “Yes. A friend of mine in Mos Eisley has a ship for me, a replacement for the Razor Crest.”

“An ST-70 assault ship?” the woman sits up straighter. “Those are pre-Empire and extremely hard to find. Is it in working order? How much repair work is involved?”

“I don’t know yet. I came straight here when Shand sent the holo.”

“You know your ships,” Fett directs at the woman.

She looks abashed. “I’m Corellian, born and raised. My father and mother worked in the Corellian Engineering Corps their entire lives. My brothers opened their own shop for ship building and repair. We saw a lot of old pieces come through.”

“And now,” Din motions to Grogu, “you’re a Jedi?”

“In a loose sense of the word. I’m a little…old to be trained as a Jedi. But I can use the Force and handle a lightsaber well enough.” She looks down at the robe she's wearing. “Well, I thought well enough. I’m Ren Vanth, by the way.”

Din tilts his head. “Vanth?”

She smiles halfway. “Yes, you’ve met my brother, the Marshall of Freetown, Cobb Vanth.”

“Freetown?” Fett and Din both ask in unison.

“That’s what they renamed the Mos Peligo area. I was trying to make my way there with Grogu. He had offered us protection.”

Din tightens his grip on the kid. “Protection from what?”

“Moff Gideon has escaped,” Fett answers.

Din has to fight the urge to roll his eyes despite wearing a helmet. “Where’s Skywalker and Tano?”

“They’re helping the Republic track down Gideon. All I was to do was keep the child safe.”

A droid rolls into the room with platters of food and Din realizes just how hungry he is. He doesn’t remember the last time he hasn’t eaten rations and broth. It’s something to look forward to when he’s alone. There is a short pause in their conversation while plates are passed around and wine is poured. It is Shand who continues the questions.

“If no one else is going to ask, I have to know,” she says, picking up a roasted leg of a fowl and motioning to Ren. “What gave you those blaster burns?”

Ren takes a healthy swallow of wine. “Droids. Dark Troopers to be exact. Apparently Gideon had a stash of them.”

“How many?” Fett asks.

“There was a troop of twenty that were sent after me. I took out as many as possible before escaping off world.”

Twenty Dark Troopers against one not-quite-Jedi. Din glances over at Fett, who gives him a slight nod. Her condition must have been so poor that was why they didn’t tell him of her presence. It’s a miracle she survived. Grogu babbles and when Din looks down at him the child is reaching across the table, pointing at Ren. He’s trying to tell him something but he’s not sure what it is.

Ren coughs slightly and tries to hide her face behind her hand. “He’s, uh, he’s trying to tell you how…uh, how brave I was…or something like that.”

Grogu emits a happy noise and smiles up at Din so she must have been telling the truth. “Twenty Dark Troopers are formidable foes for just one person.”

Ren doesn’t look convinced. “He probably would be safer with a nurse droid.”

Grogu’s ears lower and he makes a sad noise.

“Nurse droids wouldn’t care about him,” Fett offers. “Not like you do.”

Din understands the hidden meaning in Fett’s words. Yes, he said it to encourage Ren but it also tells Din that this newcomer is just as dedicated to the child’s safety as Din. They’re all comrades seated at the same table with a shared purpose. Fett clears his throat, a signal that the conversation is going to change to other matters, when the protocol droid interrupts them.

“Excuse me, Master Fett, but there is a visitor who is insistent upon seeing you.”

“I’m busy at the moment,” Fett says. “Tell them to come back at another time.”

“I did,” the droid answers. “But he is refusing to leave. He claims his sister is here and won’t leave until he sees her. He claims he is-”

“The Marshall of Freetown?” Fett asks.

The droid looks momentarily confused. “It is.”

“Send him in and set another place.” Fett looks around the room. “Looks like we’re going to have a full table this evening.”

***

Ren can not describe the joy she feels when she sees Cobb walk down the stairs into the dining room. For the first time in months, she finally feels safe. He looks older, much older than the last time that she had seen him, his hair having gone completely gray. He is still rail thin but manages to look imposing all the same. Always the big brother, he watches the room warily when he hugs her in greeting and takes the seat next to her at the table.

“Wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked in here,” Cobb says, “but a family dinner certainly wasn’t it.”

“Jabba may have endorsed debauchery but I’m not interested in that type of reputation for my rule,” Fett explains.

Shand grins, “I’m still trying to convince him to get some dancers though.”

Fett shakes his head. “No dancers.”

Cobb lays an arm over the back of Ren’s chair in a protective stance and looks over at Din. “Mando, good to see you and your little buddy again.”

“That’s in thanks to your sister,” Din answers. “She is the one who protected him and brought him here.”

“Yeah, about that,” Cobb says, turning to Ren, “you were supposed to be here three days ago. What happened?”

“About 20 Dark Troopers,” she tells him.

His jaw clenches and he takes another sip of whiskey. “Can’t believe they sent you by yourself.”

Ren knows it’s the older brother in him speaking so she tries not to take it personally. Instead, she grabs his whiskey and takes a sip. “I’m fine now.”

Cobb takes his glass back and lifts it in Fett’s direction. “Thank you for that.”

“I may have a way for you to repay the favor, if you agree.” Fett sits back in his chair. “As you may know, the Pyke Syndicate is set on using Tattooine to run their spice trade. I’ve heard rumors that Freetown has not allowed this to happen.”

“No sir,” Cobb confirms. “Just ran them off this morning.”

Shand speaks up from the other end of the table. “There will be retaliation from the Pykes. We need to be prepared for the coming war.”

“What do you need?” Din asks.

“Muscle,” Shand answers.

Din nods. “You have it.”

Ren feels everyone’s eyes land on her. “I’m not sure if I classify as muscle but I’ll be willing to help, absolutely.”

“Twenty Dark Troopers and lived to tell the tale,” Fett says, “you’ve earned muscle status.”

“Guess I’m getting pulled into this now,” Cobb says.

“Actually,” Din interjects, “we could use all of Freetown, if people are willing. The Pykes will bring foot soldiers to do their fighting. Your people would certainly be strong enough to stand against them.”

“And what would Freetown get out of this arraignment?”

Ren kicks him under the table. “Cobb!”

He gives her a surprised look. “What? You want to join them, I get it. Hell, I’ll join them as a thanks to saving your life but damned if I drag my whole town into it without them getting something out of it.”

“And he is well within his right to negotiate a price on behalf of his people,” Fett agrees. “What would be amenable to the people of Freetown?”

Cobb thinks for a minute but Ren knows he already has his price, he’s just looking for the phrasing of it. He must find it because it finishes the whiskey and sets the glass down on the table. “Freetown wants the Spice completely off this planet.”

Shand makes a noise of disagreement but Fett silences her with a look.

“Why do they want that?” Fett asks.

“Tattoine has seen enough violence. I’m sure you know that more than anyone,” Cobb answers. “If we let the Spice continue to run through here after we get rid of the Pykes, it’ll just be another Syndicate after another looking for running rights. The cycle of blood spilling will just continue. Now, if the Marshall of Freetown and the Daimyo of Mos Espa set out to shut down the Spice route through Tattoine, we cut down on the violence significantly. And who knows? Maybe that peace will just outlast us both.”

Ren is holding her breath as she watches Fett calculate the request. After a moment of reflection, he nods. “We can agree to that price.”

“I’ll go talk to them tomorrow morning,” Cobb say, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. “Now, that that’s settled, I want to hear about all the Jedi adventures my sister has been on.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the book of boba fett #din djarin #din djaren x ofc #boba fett #cobb vanth

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years ago

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I would like to say something regarding the "Din isn't being more affectionate towards Baby" thing. The first time I watched it, it surely felt a bit off. But then I've watched it 5 times already and now it doesn't bother me and here's why.

He isn't "not" being affectionate. In season 1 he barely knew the kid,he wasn't even his "own" yet, they were still strangers somehow and always in the fear of something. But season 2 them are much more confident,bonded and comfortable with each other. You know as a kid when your parent/s would take you to run errands with them and you're just kinda hanging out in the background while they get shit done? Doesn't mean they weren't paying attention to your wellbeing tho. They're basically multitasking and at this point they know they have taught you enough to "be on your own" for those times. He does the same with baby.

"Wherever I go,he goes" he takes him everywhere. Since they think The Moff is gone they may be a bit...relaxed but still are always cautious to stick together. He upgraded the potato sack type bag to a literal high-end lock satchel and got a new pram,met his fave Aunt Peli. He makes sure kiddo will be taken care of when he's being a dramatic bitch by "sacrificing" himself.

"But these are materialistic!" some would say.

Let's not forget that Din is a very private person. He was raised in a very secretive way anyways. Everytime he physically shows affection like caressing the baby's face or putting him to sleep etc. It's been in private or at the most vulnerable/threatening times, when it was just the two of them. Public affection might make them vulnerable to possible threats. Plus ep 9 was basically all business anyways.

And for the "dog" thing, it's just adorable dude? It's a dog that got a few scratches after it got tamed,but Bean gets his papa's whole heart filled with love and care for him 24/7.

So like these are the small details that needs to be understood before y'all say "he's not being affectionate enough!!"

Also guys come on it's only ep 9! WE GOT MORE SON-DAD MOMENTS COMING!! HERE WE GO!!!!

Agreed, Kiwi.

And actually, to me, nothing ever really felt off between them. The bottom line is, it’s just not realistic that Din and the baby would be affectionate often as it is. Din’s a very reserved person as you shared, the baby has never been one to be all over Din and begging for attention, so it wouldn’t really make sense if we saw many instances of that happening now. Their bond is more obvious through other examples, such as the baby knowing when Din’s about to fight, the baby cooing in response to things Din says, and so on.

Affection is shown in many different ways! Din needed to tame the massiffs in order to keep himself, Cobb, and the baby safe. The baby was just fine with that.

We’ll get our moments with these two alone, I’m sure! But for now, there’s nothing wrong with Din and the baby just... vibing.

#din #the chlid #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian season two #you have spoken

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian s2 ep1 Reactions Post That’s right I’m BACK

and none of you not even god himself can stop me from rambling about space cowboy dad and tiny green baby stuff for much longer than any sane person should

the TL;DR is that I still love this show SO MUCH, beware a bunch of spoilers under the cut!

- costume design wise I LOVE how badly the armour fits Cobb Vanth

especially when you get shots with him and Din side by side for contrast:

It’s not just that it’s clearly not made for him (it seems he’s a lot lankier and more wiry than Boba is), he simply doesn’t know how to wear it, and he doesn’t know how to take care of it, because he doesn’t know what it means. Remember when Din’s breastplate got bent completely out of shape by the mudhorn and he had it repaired to the best of his ability long before they even finished with the ship? That’s why he looks so grounded and natural in it and Vanth has sort of a clumsy Spiderman-in-his-first-home-made-costume air about him. (also Boba’s helmet has a beautiful heft and solidity to it in this, they make all the beskar have a Feel and weight to it, makes it feel important)

I like that Vanth is taller than Din; everything that drives home that Din’s strength doesn’t come from being naturally physically imposing or impressive is a joy to me

- Boba’s armour seems to be confirmed to be real beskar, which gives me so much hope that they’re doing something actually nuanced and interesting with Boba and Jango’s cultural identities as Mandalorians (whether they do consider themselves that or not, for example), unlike George Lucas’ inexplicable yet unbending stance of ‘They aren’t and never were lol get fucked Fetts’

the way the triumphant heroic part of the mando music sputtered and died when the man himself showed up tho... uh-oh this might be bad news

man but that’s a stunning and surprising way to introduce a well-known character divorced from what makes them so iconic, though, just from that I’m going to trust they know what they’re doing (AND they got temuera morrison back I’m so EXCITED!!!). without the armor there’s the face of someone who shared that face with literal millions and at the same time must be looking older than his father ever got to at this point, and that’s super interesting as a starting point to me. (I... guess there’s still a chance it’s a fakeout and that it’s actually another clone, but that would be such a letdown when they’ve already given us this haha)

- an excellent [mando sighs] moment

this opening scene did a great job of re-summarizing him for the audience -- establishing again that he gives you one chance at dealing with him fairly and if you insist on continuing to be an asshole about it, you’re toast, the fact that his fighting style is so much about being able to tank blows rather than not getting hit in the first place, the horror movie monster mando setup as he stalked the dude down and strung him up, the Poetic Justice predicated on some very careful word choices, and most importantly “where I go, he goes”... all wonderful, I’m sure I’ll watch this scene back for fine details and better looks at the background characters many many times

(word seems to have spread about him and the baby for real now, which makes me VERY nervous btw)

- Pulserifle’s back! Jetpack’s back! Razor Crest’s back! Grappling line’s back! PELLI’S BACK!!!!!! Tattooine... is also back *Finn voice* Why does everyone want to go back to Tattooine????

I really enjoyed the way they fleshed out and (for lack of a better word) humanized the sand people, though, if you are going back to this desert hellplanet again that is a worthy reason to do it

- Din swearing :O!! and one of the less egregious star wars swears too, I’m fine with this

- in campaign star wars news: I guess there was sort of both a binbon and a jubna in this ep! what a time to be alive

- as usual I love the jawa. a bright spot in any day, just a bunch of lil goblin-y friends hanging out having the best time loving sparkly crystals and rescuing silver foxes.

get in loser we’re going shopping

I uh. Do you think. Hm. Is there maybe a metaphor here somewhere. Is there perhaps a hidden, one may say double, meaning, at play, right here, in this image? Who can say, it’s just niggling at me (there’s a very similar set of shots with Toro in season 1, but seemingly the show went ‘I fear we might have gone too subtle with it, let’s amp it up this time’ over the season break loool)

honestly though this dynamic really highlighted everything I love about the ways Din performs masculinity. It’s so much softer and more community/collaboration focused and more comfortable to be around than Vanth’s version -- and Vanth isn’t a bad dude by any stretch of the imagination, it’s not hard to see why he’s like that considering where he’s from, he’s just such a... man. The lone person who can protect this village! The only man who’s got what it takes! It’s all on his shoulders and no one else’s, so do exactly as he says or he’ll put a hole in you! (I think it’s telling that one of his first comments to Din is ‘I’m sure you call the shots wherever you’re from, but ‘round here, I’m the person who tell folks what to do’, because as we as the audience knows, Din very much does not call the shots of where he’s from lol) I guess it says some nice things about the tribe of Mandos Din is from that this is how he approaches things, and it says some good things about Vanth how quickly he comes around to this smarter and less confrontational/domineering style of doing things once he’s been exposed to it and sees how it works. it’s just neat

(it’s smart of Favreau to set his ~*lone gunslinger*~ character up like this, too, it makes him so much more interesting and versatile)

- With the way Din says ‘a Mandalorian Armorer sent me on my path’ it does seem confirmed that’s the equivalent of a priest role or a sort of shaman -- I wonder if he knows the name of ‘The’ Armorer or if they take on the role as a whole identity

- the sheer contrast between the two people who wanted Din to take his helmet off for them in this ep tho... wants Mando’s armour off for horrible awful reasons and got exactly what he deserved:

wants Mando’s armour off for entirely sympathetic and understandable, just culturally uninformed, thirsty thirsty reasons & also having drinks together:

(the sort of... little lick over his bottom lip he does there? keep it in your pants vanth my GODjflsadf he’s a good dude tho he understands and respects the ‘no armour removal before marriage’ thing and backs down gracefully)

- This is a nuanced thing: I don’t think I actually ship it (not in a requited way from Din’s side, anyway, Vanth I’m 100% sure about lol), but the incredible potential for out-of-context-taking of “Take it off, or I will”/”...we doin’ this in front of the kid?” is uh astounding

(anyone got the vibe Vanth sort of had something with the bartender too? no just me? well well)

- I was never really scared Din was actually dead or hurt b/c baby wasn’t scared and I figure he’d know lol, a very useful fear barometer

- “What’s the plan?” “Take care of the child” “What are you gonna do?” “I don’t know, but wish me luck *yeets his new bro out of harm’s way before diving in head first himself*” fksdjhfkjlashdfkjsldahfkasldjhfskldajhfsadkjfh WHAT a summation of Din’s entire approach to battle & life, dad please you carry a not insignificant part of my heart around with you be careful

(Also with the heavy implication that Boba was watching the whole thing... can you imagine him just looking on as Din throws himself down that gullet like a madman. There must have been some ‘o_-7 *headscratch headscratch* ???’ going on for him there)

it’s kind of sweet that din trusts vanth will take care of the baby if something happens though, they really bonded quickly huh

- the sand people who kept willingly going over to the krayt dragon’s cave are honestly braver and more admirable than anyone else has ever been, I kept just shouting in anguish as they were gobbled up, they deserved better

- can we talk about how clear it still is that Din’s just... lonely. When he thinks he’s found another Mando and he sounds almost reverent with relief... and then it gets odder and odder (’uh... drinks? I guess... does he have drinking straws with him or -- HE’S TAKING THE HELMET OFF???’ oh buddy)

I wonder if they’re building towards something about him realizing it doesn’t have to be Mandos for him to trust and bond with people longer term? Basically all the characters he’s met and we’ve watched him form attachments to and get help from are non-Mandos -- Kuiil :’^(, Cara, Omera, Cobb Vanth, IG-11 :^’’(, Greef Karga to a degree. Establishing so firmly what he’s looking for this early would be good setup for a ‘what a character thinks they want vs. what they need’ thing later on just on a writing level, anyway, Boba Fett could bring in some interesting points of view about Mandalorianness too

- baby’s happy gurgles when he sees pelli!!!!!! din speaking sand people language and petting alligator doggies!!!!!!

- pedro pascal’s voice work remains an utter joy to me. din’s measured, earnest, occasionally slightly stilted way of talking is still so good, and then he does things like inserting some more... idk life is the wrong word but that more charged and dynamic tone he took on when he said (”I thought you weren’t a gambler”) “I’m not”. *chef kiss*

- if the pulse rifle’s stun is able to do that to a fuckn krayt dragon... that’s some serious shit din is carrying around with him lol (interestingly the actual shooty pew-pew part of it didn’t seem to do much to it, but then I guess he was shocking it from the inside out and not through thick hide, so idk)

- my only real complaints about this ep: Vanth’s backstory ran a bit long, and not enough baby & dad interaction. the concept art’s got me tho:

(din often wears his original/old armour in concept art still, incidentally, don’t know what that’s about)

awwwwwww

+ omfg ;______;

- this sand people person conscientiously brushing a bantha’s teeth... blessed

- Customary flame thrower report: there was a rare useful deployment of the flamethrower. Good job Mando’s flame thrower for furthering the field of diplomacy

ETA: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS: DIN BEING COMFORTABLE(ISH) AROUND DROIDS NOW!!!! GROWTH????!?! IG-11 WE MISS YOU??????????

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars #the mandalorian meta #meta #(I'm trying to label my meta more specifically these days b/c the general meta tag is a MESS on my blog lol)#mmmmmmmm feels good to break out the overanalysis goggles again it's time to OVERTHINK SOME SHIT my friends

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mando-and-child · 4 years ago

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

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

Ship: Cobb/Din

Gen: Din and Omera, Din and Cara.

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

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

“No I haven’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian Recap: What You Need to Know Before Season 2

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This The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

Five years after Return of the Jedi, a gunslinger comes to town in the latest Star Wars phenomenon. The Mandalorian took the internet by storm last year, thanks to the central duo of Pedro Pascal’s titular bounty hunter and the adorable Child, aka Baby Yoda. Even if you aren’t a hardcore Star Wars fan, the story of a heavily armed mercenary suddenly becoming a father figure to protect the mysterious and Force-sensitive Child is very charming.

With the show returning for a second season on Oct. 30, you might need a refresher on how Mando and Baby Yoda met, what the Empire is up to, why IG-11 is constantly trying to self-destruct, and who the Darksaber-wielding Moff Gideon is. If so, you’ve come to the right place!

Disney dropped a season 1 recap video earlier this week that plays the hits. Check it out below:

But if you need a proper recap of The Mandalorian season 1 in more detail, we’ve got a chronological timeline of events below:

The Client Hires Mando for a Top Secret Bounty Involving the Empire

From the very start of the show, the Mandalorian, whose real name is Din Djarin, has a job to do. He’s a down-on-his-luck bounty hunter, good at his job but low on credits at a time when the fall of the Empire has destabilized the galaxy. And the highest paying job right now, according to Bounty Hunters’ Guild leader Greef Karga (Carl Weathers), is from the unnamed Client (Werner Herzog), a crime lord loyal to the Empire. He will pay top credits for Mando to find a 50-year-old escapee referred to only as “the Asset.” Working for the oppressive Empire isn’t at the top of Mando’s list, but he needs the cash to keep his ship, the Razor Crest, running and send some home to his clan, which is hiding in a secret Mandalorian conclave on the planet Nevarro.

Mando Suits Up with the Help of the Armorer

The Client is willing to pay in beskar, the highly durable metal Mandalorians use for their legendary armor. Before heading out on his next job, the Mando checks with his clan’s Armorer (Emily Swallow) to make sure his pay is the real deal. A skilled blacksmith and community leader, the Armorer explains that the beskar came from Mandalorians lost in a Great Purge.

The Armorer builds Mando a new armor piece and talks about the importance of the signet, a symbol of a Mandalorian’s victories. Every time he finishes a job, he’ll return to the Armorer for a new piece. Her work also gives him time to think about his own past as a foundling, orphaned during the Clone Wars.

Kuill Helps Mando Find the Asset

The new bounty leads the Mandalorian to Kuill (Nick Nolte), an Ugnaught farmer on the desert planet Arvala-7 who used to be an indentured mechanic for the Empire. Getting to the Asset isn’t going to be easy: Mando has to ride ornery animals called blurrgs, and he isn’t nearly as good at it as he is at killing. Kuill mentors Mando with patience and insight, and he agrees to help him find the bounty.

IG-11 Is an Assassin Droid with an Enthusiastic Self-Destruct Mechanism

When Mando reaches the target’s location, he discovers he isn’t the only bounty hunter there. IG-11 (Taika Waititi), an assassin droid with the ability to spin his body all the way around and fire in any direction, agrees to work with Mando to find the Asset. IG-88’s deadpanning and his eagerness to self-destruct when facing overwhelming odds bounce off of Mando’s straightforward, serious demeanor, and the two become effective teammates.

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Mando Forms an Instant Bond with Baby Yoda

It turns out the Client was a bit misleading when he said the Asset was 50-years-old. It’s a child of Yoda’s mysterious species, and Mando remembers the loss of his own parents too keenly to consign anyone else to orphanhood. The Child, who has no known relation to the Jedi Master despite the fact the majority of fans call him Baby Yoda, is green, cute, and harmless, and while Mando initially wants to turn him in for the money, a deep bond begins to form between them as soon as they meet inside a mercenary hideout.

Needless to say, the reveal of the little guy was as surprising to Star Wars fans as it was to Mando, since we rarely see any other aliens of Yoda’s species, and certainly never a child. When IG-11 tries to kill Baby Yoda, Mando takes him out, and a new heroic duo is formed.

Baby Yoda Reveals His Force Powers

In order to leave the planet, Mando has to wrest his ship back from scavenger Jawas who have dismantled the Razor Crest for scrap by offering a trade. They want a mudhorn egg, and, naturally, the rhinoceros-like mudhorn doesn’t want to let him into the nest.

Mando’s acquisition of the egg turns into a messy, muddy fight, the animal’s bulk almost proving a match for Mandalorian beskar and weapons. But just when it looks like Mando might lose, Baby Yoda levitates the monster with the Force. Do Jedi abilities run in his species? We don’t know, but the little guy’s magic enables Mando to kill the beast.

The Mandalorians Pledge to “The Way”

When Mando returns to his people, it sparks an argument about whether Mando is doing the right thing by taking Imperial bounties. Through this we learn more about the culture of the Mandalorians, who had to go into hiding after the Empire took control of their homeworld of Mandalore. “This is the Way,” they intone, emphasizing the seriousness of their creed to stay hidden, keep their helmets on at all times, and be loyal to one another. At one point, the Armorer has to break up a fight between Mando and another Mandalorian warrior.

Mando Hands the Child Over, Then Steals Him Back

Technically, Mando does his job, turning the Child over to the ominous Client. But when he learns that the Client’s men plan to do some kind of experiment on him — there’s a strong implication that Baby Yoda is an early strand-cast, just like the Emperor’s clone in The Rise of Skywalker — Mando can’t live with that. He sneaks back into the Client’s Imperial facility and cuts through the crime lord’s ranks of stormtroopers.

Stealing the Child back, Mando soon finds himself at odds with not only the Imperial forces on Nevarro but also the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, which can’t standby Mando after he breaks their code. Ultimately, Mando’s clan helps him escape and rocket away on the Razor Crest.

Cara Dune Brawls Her Way into the Story

Trying to find a safe place for himself and the Child to hide from the Empire and other bounty hunters, Mando winds up on the planet Sorgan. There he meets the ex-Rebel shocktrooper Cara Dune (Gina Carano), who suspects he’s there to collect a bounty on her. After a fistfight emblematic of The Mandalorian‘s more down-to-earth take on sweeping Star Wars combat, they become fast friends.

We learn Dune turned to the mercenary life after the end of the Galactic Civil War because she wasn’t interested in the peacekeeping career for the New Republic. Fighting for credits suited her better.

Mando Finds Himself in Trouble in a Quiet Village

Mando’s next stop on Sorgan is a small village that he needs to protect Seven Samurai-style. The village is under threat of attack by Klatooinian marauders, with a farmer named Omera (Julia Jones) and her daughter leading the defense.

In order to get Mando on their side, Omera offers Mando sanctuary: he and Baby Yoda cab hide from the rest of the galaxy in the village. Mando, who seems to develop feelings for Omera during his time in the village, almost shows her his face, which is forbidden by his clan, which would banish him. Mando stops Omera from taking off his helmet at the last second.

Ultimately, Mando, Omera, and Cara Dune defend the village, but they can’t stay together. Baby Yoda still has a price on his head, so Mando and Cara move on.

Gunslingers on Tatooine

When his ship falls under attack by another bounty hunter, Mando is forced to make a quick pit stop on Tatooine to do repairs on the Razor Crest. While on the famous Star Wars planet, Mando meets both the friendly mechanic Peli Motto (Amy Sedaris) and the young bounty hunter Toro Calican, who is searching for an infamous assassin named Fennec Shand (Ming-Na Wen). Toro asks Mando for aid taking down his target, promising to split the bounty.

While the two successfully defeat Shand in the desert beyond Mos Eisley, Toro ends up betraying Mando in an attempt to collect the bounty on Baby Yoda. This turns out to be a poor decision.

Mando’s time on Tatooine is particularly notable for the final scene of the episode “The Gunslinger,” which teases a mystery character wearing armor and spurs not unlike those worn by another famous Mandalorian bounty hunter from Star Wars‘ past! Based on the season 2 cast list, this is either Boba Fett (Temuera Morrison) himself or a sheriff from the books named Cobb Vanth (Timothy Olyphant), who finds Fett’s armor in the novel Aftermath by Chuck Wendig.

Kuill Dies Protecting Baby Yoda

Mando, Cara, Greef, and Kuill, who has reprogrammed IG-11 as a fast-shooting service droid, eventually have come up with a plan to throw the Imperials off Baby Yoda’s scent. They’ll turn in Baby Yoda’s pram to the Client while Kuill takes the kid himself to safety. But it doesn’t work: the Client’s boss turns out to be Moff Gideon, an Imperial warlord who knows exactly who he’s up against. Gideon recommends the Client double check the kid’s whereabouts and the plan falls apart. With the season coming to a close, the Client’s troopers catch up to Baby Yoda and kill Kuill, while the others are trapped in Nevarro’s cantina by Gideon’s Imperial forces.

Moff Gideon gives the Mando an ultimatum: surrender before nightfall and he’ll let them live. The good guys try to break out of the cantina, but they’re thoroughly trapped.

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IG-11 Saves the Day, But Pays the Price

Fortunately, IG-11 swoops in to steal Baby Yoda back. In a blaze of blaster fire, he breaks through the Imperial ring around the cantina, then blasts his way into the underground network of tunnels where the Mandalorian clans live. But Mando is injured and faces another type of exposure: IG-11 needs to remove his helmet to heal his wound. Although Mando can’t show his face another living being, the droid is no such thing, so he gives in.

With the wound stabilized, they limp into the tunnels. After a cascade of action sequences including the Armorer kicking stormtrooper butt, IG-11 finally self-destructs to give his friends their only possible way out of the Imperial trap.

Mando Takes Down Moff Gideon’s TIE Fighter

The last piece of equipment the Armorer gave Mando is the perfect counter to Moff Gideon’s starship. Mando activates his jetpack and follows Gideon’s advanced Outland TIE fighter into the sky, putting to use all the skills he’s learned since he started earning back his beskar. He plants explosives on the ship and brings it down, seemingly killing Gideon in the process. It’s a bittersweet victory for our heroes, who have lost a few friends along the way. At least Baby Yoda is finally safe, right?

Moff Gideon Wields the Legendary Darksaber

Wrong. Moff Gideon has one more surprise to show. He not only survived the crash, but is able to cut his way out of the wreckage with the Darksaber, a black-bladed energy sword that was once the symbol of the true leader of the Mandalorian homeworld.

Last seen in the hands of the Mandalorian Bo-Katan Kryze, the Darksaber shouldn’t be in Imperial hands. It’s an insult to the Mandalorian people and suggests Gideon is out for them personally. With Din Djarin’s people scattered after the Imperial attacks, Mando and Baby Yoda really are a clan of two against the world, and will have to face overwhelming odds to finally defeat the Empire.

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Mando and Baby Yoda Embark on a New Journey

At the end of the season, Mando and Baby Yoda follow the Armorer’s suggestion (although it’s more like an order) to find the Child’s people (the Jedi, ancient sorcerer enemies to the Mandalorians, the way she tells it) out among the stars. Meanwhile, Greef and Cara Dune stay with the Bounty Hunter’s guild, sharing a final farewell with Mando and Baby Yoda before the head out to parts unknown on their new mission. This is where season 2 will pick up!

The post The Mandalorian Recap: What You Need to Know Before Season 2 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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onestowatch · 4 years ago

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Teddy Swims on His Upcoming Debut EP, Writing Process, and Metamorphosis [Q&A]

It’s Spring time in Snellville, Georgia and the year is 2019. Teddy Swims is living in a spacious abode with his producer, his manager, his videographer, his photographer and all of the musicians from his former rock band (the Elefvnts). This was more than just a typical living arrangement in a party atmosphere. It was a bonding experience that lasted for about one year. And it was a pivotal time period where Teddy Swims developed a songwriting formula that would help him blend his love for R&B and Soul with heavy components of Country Rock and Pop music. The writing sessions at this house spawned the release of an original composition called “Night Off” and a series of cover songs that would go on to help Teddy Swims garner the attention of legendary mainstream recording artists like Shania Twain.

Fast forward to the year 2020. Teddy Swims has moved to Atlanta and he’s now signed to Warner Records. With the studio release of “Picky” firmly notched under his belt, the brand new artist has set out for greener pastures. We spoke with Teddy Swims about his upcoming debut EP, his writing process and his metamorphosis from rock singer to to hip-hop/R&B artist.

Ones to Watch: With the help of your band, the name Teddy Swims has generated quite the buzz on the internet. Especially after releasing a series of covers that range from hit songs by The Weeknd and Luther Vandross to Shania Twain and Vanessa Carlton. Who’s responsible for coming up with the arrangements of these renditions and how do you determine what songs to cover?

Teddy Swims: It’s all my guys man! When we did the first cover [“Rock With You”] by Michael Jackson, it was ten years after the day he died and that’s what started us doing covers in the first place. And then sometimes we’ll do a new song that’s out and we’ll try to kind of get ahead of the curve and maybe get a little play off of something that’s number one of the charts right now…but we rarely do it like that.

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What kind of reaction have you gotten from musicians whose songs you’ve covered?

We recently re-cut and put out a new version of a Shania [Twain] record. We did that with Dave Cobb. He knows Shania and he sent that to her. So just hearing that she loved it and is a fan now--that’s what it’s all about!

You lived in a compound with your management team and all twelve members of your band for about a year. Tell me a little bit about the song selection process when it came down to finalizing tracks for your upcoming debut album. Was that something that you included the core members of your team in on or did you make those decisions on your own?

At the end of the day, I’m never going to say that my way is always the right way… We built this ourselves…I always say: ‘If there’s twelve of us here it’s not a democracy—it’s a jury.’ We can all figure out why we have to make a decision. But if there’s two or three people that don’t have the same answer as us, there’s always time to make sure that everyone can get on the same page. Because we trust each other and we have each other’s best interest at heart.

Your music videos seem to be just as charismatic as your live shows. Tell me a little bit about the inspiration behind the music videos for Picky (directed by Kevin Johnson) and Broke (directed by Joel Chivington).

We do it all in-house. This whole past year we’ve been in a house in Snellville [Georgia] that had all twelve of us living there. My band, my producer, my manager… our whole team. So, what we wanted to capture with those is the story of family. Everything that we filmed in most of the music videos is right here in our hometown of Conyers, Georgia. Which is like everything that you see from the bar and the candy store in “Picky” to the coffee shop. It was right here in Conyers.

I looked up some throwback photos of you on MySpace, your fashion sense has evolved so much over the past decade. I noticed a lot of Rock influenced clothing during your high school years, but then you slowly gravitated towards hip hop attire. How has your sense of style influenced your music and which genre are you truly the most comfortable in?

Sometimes we’ll write a song and it will come out so Country. And sometimes we’ll write a song that will come out so Hip-hop….I genuinely don’t know if I’ll ever find out what my [genre] is. I think we’re getting to a place with music where genres are absolutely fluid and [music] can be whatever you want it to be as long as it’s honest. As long as it feels like soul, that’s all that matters to me.

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If you had to pick one genre for the rest of your life--which one would it be?

Soul music man…baby making music. I think that could be any genre. There’s soul in Country, there’s soul in Hip-hop and soul in R&B. I love to listen to a song and if you feel that nostalgic feeling even though you’ve never heard the song…that’s what I chase, no matter what the genre.

You’re from Conyers, Georgia, but you’re currently based in Atlanta. A lot of great musicians have come from your home state. You’ve mentioned in the past how much your home means to you. Who’s on your Mt. Rushmore of recording artists from Georgia and why?

Andre and Big Boi [from Outkast], Ray Charles, James Brown and Otis Redding.

I read that the SWIMS in your last name is actually an acronym that means: Someone Who Isn’t Me Sometimes. Give our readers an in-depth description of the personal meaning of that acronym for you. At what moment did Jaten Dimsdale become Teddy Swims?

Last year in March, my buddy Addy Maxwell (producer, guitarist, trumpeter) was building beats and sending them to rappers around the area in Atlanta and they would send stuff back. So back in March, we ended up creating this SoundCloud rap song. The next thing you know we had the opportunity to go on tour. So, we built thirty minutes of music and went on my very first tour, after ten years of being in bands—we went on tour as Teddy Swims. At that time, when we started the rap thing I was going by “Swims” which is an acronym that I saw on forums and it just meant someone who isn’t me. So, I thought that I could just kind of be whoever I wanted to be in rap and never really take it seriously. It was just going to be a little rap thing for me to not take seriously. And then, we took it on tour…and it just kind of stuck that way.

The coronavirus has caused recording artists who are signed to major record labels, like yourself, to drastically change their plans for 2020. But what about your plans for 2021? Are we going to get a debut album out of you next year? And if so, can you tell us a little bit about it?

I can’t say for sure but that’s the plan. We plan on having an EP out at the beginning of next year and an album out sometime next year…At this point we’re writing right now, so I don’t want to tell you what something’s going to be about and then change my mind…I’m scared to commit something. Maybe the album will be about my fear of commitment (laughs).

What events in your life have made you a better songwriter? Heartbreak? A tragic loss? Falling in Love?

I’ll definitely say that I tend to put myself in situations to sometimes get hurt, to write better songs. Some of my worst heartbreaks have been the best songs…it’s definitely been super inspiring in making me deal with some things that I don’t like dealing with and focus on some matters that I didn’t know that I needed to focus on.

What’s a typical writing session like between Teddy Swims and Elefvnts?

We have a B Room Studio and an A Room Studio in our old house. So I might be tracking vocals on something from yesterday and (the band) might be working on something or maybe Jesse [Hampton] has his own laptop and he’s recording a guitar and he just drops [the track] in the dropbox and the next day Addy [Maxwell] pulls it up and hears some piano and puts a beat behind it. And the next day I might pull it up on my laptop and then get an idea and write and then we all get together and kind of piece it together. So, we just put a bunch of files in a dropbox and people will just pick songs and say: “Oh I have an idea for this!” We are able to sometimes be in the same room and just jam and write. But before (Covid-19) we were able to just jam as a band and always be playing, which was great.

Not including anyone that you are currently working with, who would be your dream executive producer and why?

I would always have to say my best friend in the world, Lee Rouse (the band’s producer and engineer). But if it was someone that I wish I could work with? I’d have to say Timbaland. A record with Timbaland would be crazy! Pharrell would be crazy too…And Dr. Dre of course.

What kind of music do you think you and Dr Dre. could make together?

I don’t know (laughs). I’d do whatever he tells me to do. I’d be like: “You’re the man, whatever you say. Let’s go!” I would die to meet him, just to pick his brain and get the wisdom because I’m always a student to it. I would want to learn the mindset from producer to CEO to everything. Because that is everything that I want to be.

You donated the proceeds of What’s Going On (a song originally recorded by Marvin Gaye) to the NAACP Legal Defense and Education Fund. Why’d you decide to donate to that cause in particular?

When we did it, I put a grand in to five different [social causes]. I wanted to give to something that was a bigger conglomerate in that way…I am so strong of a believer in the Black Lives Matter movement. Here we are, two hundred years later and we can’t open our eyes. I think that “What’s Going On” is perfect song written at the perfect time and it still just as powerful today! I think that says a lot about us as a society…We always hear about the Breonna Taylors and the George Floyds, but there’s so many people like that who are getting brushed under the rug. In my hometown, there was a kid two years ago named Shali Tilson. He was having a mental health episode and he was arrested. When he got in the Rockdale County Jail, they put him in solitary confinement for nine days with no food or water and he died. A 22-year old black man. Nothing has been done about it…. So, if I could say anything, I encourage people to look into what’s going on in your small towns. There are small towns like Conyers where this has been happening for years and it just gets brushed under the rug.

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#Teddy Swims #R&B #Soul #Q&A #Broke

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simplelittlebrowngirljae · 5 years ago

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Reaching final acceptance

I have been dealing with the ups and downs of Chronic Illness for some time now. And while I have accepted the vast majority of my ever changing new normal, there was still one thing that I had not really faced. One piece that I had not fully processed---my infertility.

I was diagnosed with Endometriosis in 2014 after going to 13 different doctors and having two surgeries, and years after that I was diagnosed with several other debilitating health conditions. I had a very different type of that needed a special light to be seen. However, I knew about my fertility issues well before my official diagnosis of Endometriosis. Years before this, I had had a terrible pain and heavier than normal bleeding and thought nothing of it. I found out later that it was because I had a fertilized egg pass and it couldn’t sustain in my uterus. I also learned at that time that having children on my own would probably not be possible. I brushed it off at that moment but it really became real when I went in for my second endo surgery and the doctor informed me that carrying my own children would be very difficult. The next year I had to have an emergency surgery where one of my ovaries and fallopian tubes were removed and I was told straight out: Ms. Cobb, you will not have children of your own. The endo has ravaged your reproductive organs. Your uterus would reject any product of conception due to being septate.

The funny thing is at the time I did not even process it. It is like I had already prepared myself for it and filed it away as that is just how my life was going to be. I didn’t even think to care. It hit me many years later in the most unpredictable ways. It hit me seeing my friends on Facebook sending their kids to kindergarten or seeing their kids graduate from high school. It hit me seeing them get their babies ready for dance recitals or school plays or sporting events. It hit me seeing photos of birthday parties and other celebrations and seeing my friends bond as moms and over the things that moms go through and I realized I will never get to experience and of those moments. I will not get to bring MY baby home from the hospital. I will never get to put MY baby on the bus to school. I will never get to take MY baby to birthday parties or school functions or play dates. All of this hit me at once. And it was then I realized that I had never took time to process the fact that I would not carry my own child. I didn’t deal with the emotions that come with something that is so heavy and so emotional and life changing. But I think in my own world and in my own life I needed time to experience some things and see life in a new light to process my emotions that came from that.

But my lack of dealing with the emotions has left some raw pieces and consequences that I have been working to heal. For example, I still cannot attend a baby shower because emotionally it is still too much for me to sit and see people doting over a mom to be or the games being played and seeing all the gifts being opened just opens wounds all over again and reminds me of things that I won’t achieve. There are also women who are extremely insensitive and who don’t understand circumstances and don’t understand the hurt that is stirred up when you ask someone when they are getting married and having kids, not knowing that it is not possible for every woman, not knowing the wounds they could be opening. It is easy for me to be strong and be confident on the outside and cover up the wounds. However, I feel that me being open about my feelings about infertility and motherhood and chronic illness and the rawness it exposes makes me even stronger. Maybe one day I will get there to be able to attend such events, but in order to protect my peace, that is one boundary I need to keep in place.

And I always knew I could adopt a child, which is why I put my feelings on the back burner. But as time has gone on my health has declined and that dream of adopting fades more and more into the black, which is why I have had to deal with this final piece of acceptance with how my life has changed with chronic illness. Before I found out my fertility status, I had always dreamed and hoped of adopting a child in need. I felt that God has told me that it was something I needed to do because there were so many kids who needed a good home and so much love. But then my life took a different turn. A turn away from adoption as well, I now find myself being the cool “auntie” and “Godmamma”. While I love this role, and anybody who knows me knows that my Godson is my WHOLE heartbeat, I still cannot help but to think “I wish I had my own child to do these things with”.

I will say I am oh so fortunate to be included in milestone events with my own Godson and with my friend’s kids. I have been to recitals, plays, college tours, field trips, concerts and many other great moments. And those moments were great and I was so excited that my friends thought enough of me to invite “cool Auntie Jae” along. And I am so proud of my babies and love them like they are my own. But I know deep down inside they are not my own, and I don’t get all the same privileges as a parent. I also do not get someone to take care of me when I am old or to help me when my health steadily declines.

So why am I writing this piece? What does this have to do with reaching my final acceptance? Well, me openly discussing my feelings about infertility and chronic illness needed to happen for my sake. I needed to speak my peace and express how avoiding the issue has impacted my being able to finally accept my new life with chronic illness. We talk about all the other ways that life changes: the meds, weight fluctuations, mood swings, loss of energy, hair loss, skin changing etc. but we rarely discuss this change. We don’t talk about how long it takes to work up to this and hard it is to reach this final piece of acceptance in living with chronic illness. So this is my final acceptance. I have finally put it out to the universe and am releasing the hold and emotions that have come with my infertility and chronic illness.

#chronicillnesswarrior #chronicallyillandstrong #endowarrior

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themusicalhermit · 6 years ago

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This is the anon that requested for the fem reader x Junkrat with baby twins. I love the fic so much, it’s so cute! I love seeing Jamie get so concerned about the reader and the babie’s conditions. The names for the babies are cute too. 💖 If you have any spare time, I would still like to see how Junkrat and the reader raises them. Imagining Junkrat trying to change a diaper cracks me up. But please just do it on your free time though. Once again, thank you so much!

Ok so this took a while. Part of the reason for that was I had originally plotted one way and decided, almost last minute, to go the another (in addition to not knowing how to write super young kids well). I hope it’s still enjoyable and I’m sorry for the wait.

Junkrat x Reader (feat. Cobb and Harry Fawkes, & “The Hogfather”) - “Perfect” (SFW) part one here

Having twins was serious business, but to Junkrat this clearly just meant even more whacky hijinks were possible. In the weeks leading up to the birth, he had spent hours rigging up baby harnesses so that he could “dual wield his progeny”, perpetual motion, self-rocking baby beds (dubbed Newton’s Cribs), and other similar devices. Most strange of all, however, was a combination baby harness-beer cap that he claimed was supposed to be loaded with milk so he and/or Roadhog could feed the kids, carry them, and do work all at the same time. You and Roadhog had shared the briefest of glances before telling him to incinerate that invention.

Roadhog had done his part as godfather (or “Hogfather,” as Junkrat kept insisting) and bought you and Junkrat baby clothes, toys, nappies, and other necessities. He had also bought Junkrat a “Fatherhood for Dummies” book and a general book on parenthood for you. You, meanwhile, had used the fact you’d been assigned desk duty to apply for one of the coveted family suites with their private bathrooms for the four of you.

After reading in your parenting book that learning sign language from a young age boosts children’s mental capacities, Junkrat thrown himself into learning the local sign language, as well as Auslan and the sign language you had chosen. Roadhog, completely of his own free will upon seeing Junkrat learn sign, picked up New Zealand sign language, which, like any sign language, required he remove his mask for proper use. Perhaps out of admiration or unexpressed guilt that Roadhog was risking his lungs to teach the kids something new, this led to Junkrat picking up New Zealand sign language as well. Between the three of you, Cobb and Harry were both chatting away in various languages by the time they were ten months old.

Roadhog was a good godfather and a calm influence on the kids (who, even as babies, had learnt to weaponise their cuteness against him). More than willing to take them off your hands when asked, he was known to take them on regular walks around the compound or let them roll around on the grass in the courtyard. The rest of Talon used this time to play with the kids when their schedules allowed all under Roadhog’s watchful eye.

Which was good as Junkrat was loathe to let strangers too close to the twins and threatened to blow up anyone who so much as looked at them funny. This was a depressingly common occurrence due to his dual-wielding baby harness. Doomfist soon put a stop to it by throwing an official baby shower for you two and announcing that anyone who hurt the kids would have the rest of Talon hunting them for the rest of their days.

But beyond his (somewhat overzealous) protectiveness, Junkrat was excellent with the twins. Yes, he would often forget that infants can’t hold certain things, such as the working kid’s weapon models he’d built them, and he’d needed to be reminded to be careful with how he held them at first, but he was a good father. He was constantly making faces at the twins, playing with them, holding one while you fed the other, and helping you rock them to sleep. Already one used to functioning with little sleep, he even took charge of dealing with them during the night without question unless you forced him to try and get some more rest.

As the months went on the twin’s personalities became more obvious. Junkrat’s love of laughter had rubbed off on both of them, but of the two Cobb was usually the first to laugh at something whereas Harry laughed the longest. Harry had shown an affinity for puzzle games and adventurousness - this had been cute until he figured out how to undo the child safety locks you’d put around the flat. Cobb, not to be outdone, was adventurous when it came to tasting things (which Harry was not), a thing that was nice during suppertime but horrible when his brother opened the sink cabinet.

Fortunately you’d seen them and stopped things before Moira’s expertise would have been needed. When you told the story to the rest of your family later, Junkrat had just laughed and said they took after him. But he did agree that something needed to be done to keep them from poisoning themselves, because that was not remotely funny, and installed padlocks on everything. Roadhog, when told a few days later after a meeting, had just sighed and said something about not needing more troublemakers in his life.

As far as work was concerned, both you and Junkrat were given paid leave, allowing you time to heal and both of you time to bond with your kids. Which left plenty of opportunities for you all to be a family.

Such as on one lazy Thursday afternoon a few days before the twin’s birthday.

“I got that sunshine in my pocket, got that good song in my feet…” Junkrat was reclining on an armchair and singing Oldies with the kids. Cobb propped up on his legs and Harry on his chest. They were both wriggling and babbling along with the words, both spoken and signed.

“So just imagine,” he sang, voice cracking as he tried to follow the rising pitch. Looking between the twins with a smile, he shimmied in the chair as best he could. “Nothing I can see but you when you dance…”

You leaned over the back of the chair, singing and signing along with your hands in the air above Junkrat’s. He looked over his shoulder at you, laughter tinging his voice as he sang.

“Youse are flat,” Roadhog called over, his telephone raised in front of him and recording the moment.

Junkrat paused to stick his tongue out, earning a laugh from the masked man. When the song was over he reached up to ruffle your hair and pull your cheek to his lips.

“Can you sing, Mako,” you asked as Junkrat kissed you. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you.”

Roadhog sighed, putting down the phone. Junkrat giggled against your cheek before turning to the kids and signing quickly in Auslan. “Darl, I’ve never heard Roadie hum, let alone sing. So I’d hazard to say that he’s not exactly a music lover.”

Shaking his head, Roadhog broke in with a resigned tone. “I like music. Used to love it. Loved singing too.“

“Well why don’t you sing sometime,” you asked, ignorant of the way Junkrat’s face had gone still with dawning comprehension. “The kids would love it it.”

With a wheezing laugh your children’s godfather said, “I’d love to, if not for my lungs.” Shrugging when you apologised, he continued with the same tone. “I’m not bothered. It’s part of the price paid. Rapping though—” he crossed his arms on the shelf of his stomach “— rapping’s great.”

“Rapping, eh?” Junkrat‘s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Well, now that gives me an idea!”

Which is how your idea of playing cards and darts at the twins’ first birthday party turned into a karaoke competition. There wasn’t a real prize (knowing Sombra’s competitive streak and Junkrat’s desire to obtain trophies at any cost you’d forbidden any sort of thing), but through a show of applause Roadhog came in second with a modified rendition of “Straight Outta Compton.” Neither you nor Junkrat were in the top three, though the twins enjoyed the fun energy of the event and happily played with the various toys that everyone had given them.

The future of the twins was bright with all of Talon keeping an eye on them, not to mention their “Hogfather.” And as you watched Junkrat hug and smile at the children, you felt that everything in your family’s life was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

#request fill #junkrat x reader #sfw #harry fawkes #cobb fawkes #cobb and harry

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