#Din-EH )

[thefrogdalorian]

Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count:  3.4k ✯ Rating:  Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love. 

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet. 

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you. 

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain. 

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood. 

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line. 

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him. 

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope. 

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led. 

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar. 

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man. 

Yet, somehow, he has found you. 

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner. 

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro. 

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness. 

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress. 

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him. 

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar. 

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness. 

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son. 

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness. 

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact. 

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering. 

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this. 

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps. 

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare. 

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination. 

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness. 

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is. 

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment. 

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions. 

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour. 

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love. 

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand. 

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this. 

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.

[redbean-nom]

din djarin, age 10: clone wars refugee child

boba fett, age 11: in federal prison for destroying an entire venator while trying to kill mace windu

[hinderr]

Push me, pull me, write my story / Give me my rhythm, my rhyme,

Quick valentines sketch of the one and only Clan Of Two <3 Happy Valentines Day

(new side of me, blake roman)

[thursdaysmoon]

Strawberry Sylus

Y'all, this is how our man will look like with all the goofy accessories they give us 😭

[lusi-raul]

I hate that I will hold on to even just a sliver of hope that any dead eggs will come back. That even if I know I’ll get disappointed in the end I will still believe it like a madman but dude, a picture that could imply that Tilin and Juanaflippa may still be alive and just frozen in the countdown room just makes it worse. Whyyyyy?

Who’s ready to wallow in self inflicted madness with me? I know the possibility of Juanaflippa and Tilin coming back is low….. but never zero.

[sunb0rn]

Muni-muni by Linggit, acrylic on canvas

got her last October!

i was just too broke na reserved (50% paid) ko na sya ng July pero October ko na nakumpleto yung payment. buti sobrang understanding ni artist.

[grvntld]

lately ive been doing things i love and i cant help but feel selfish about it, even though im not rlly stepping on anyone's toes nor am i hurting anyone. i mean im not at all doing anything wrong, but i guess, it really has been such a long time since ive done things for my genuine happiness and betterment that it feels somehwhat alien to me. i dont know if that makes sense, im just speaking my thoughts and feels out loud, after all.

[darlin-djarin]

din "abu grogu" djarin

bonus grogu with a gun bc he deserved to have one instead of paintballs

he is judging you.

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

This drawing strip has inspired me to write a little thing that is barely a drabble so here you go

Warning: (slight) spoilers for The Mandalorian Chapter 23

“Kryze wants to talk to you, says it’s an emergency,” Fennec tosses the comm in her hand at Boba as she enters the room, dropping down onto the chair next to his.

Sighing, Boba picks up the comm and is met with the sight of an annoyed Bo-Katan Kryze. “What,” Boba is not in the mood to deal with her. “I have been leading the Mando’ade in retaking Manda’yaim-” Bo-Katan began to speak but Boba cut her off. “I literally couldn’t care less about what you and your group of zealots are attempting, Kryze.”

Boba could practically see the steam coming out of Bo-Katan’s ears but her next sentence wiped the smirk that was forming on his face right off. “Moff Gideon has Djarin.” Grabbing his buyce from the table, Boba began preparations to leave, “I will be there as soon as possible. The land of Manda’yaim will once again be blessed with the blood of our enemies. The brutal ways of Mando’ade will be shown, there will be no mercy. The last thing those imp scum will see is the barrel of my blaster before they know nothing else.”

Mando'a translations (I hope I'm right, please let me know if any of it is wrong"

Mando'ade: Mandalorians

Manda'yaim: Mandalore (literally translates to Mandalorian home)

Buyce: Helmet

[diamondnokouzai]

i should animate something. send very very simple requests.

[bulol]

BITCHHHH kakatapos ko lang manood ng how to make millions before grandma dies tas eto ako ngayon maga mata hahahahuhu may soft spot talaga ako pagdating sa grandparents at syempre parents

[theydjarin]

Title: Abstinence Only

Rating: G

Word count: 1200

Summary:

Boba Fett was fine with the world thinking he didn't approve of sex before marriage. It was true, anyway, only in the sense that he didn't want sex at all, before or after marriage. He just hoped Djarin would get the picture and stop trying to get with him before he had to lay it out - or, worse, before he caught feelings.

Major tags/warnings: Asexuality, asexual relationship, depictions of acephobia, misunderstandings, happy ending

Snippet:

“Don’t you know?” Boba asked, desperately, almost pleading. “Don’t you know that I don’t…” “Before marriage, yes,” Djarin confirmed, standing tall.  “Then why…”  “I want to be with you. This is the way.”

[vvitchering]

Have some mando ficlet where Din and Paz have a conversation they won’t be allowed to have in the show

I know we’re not gonna get anything like this because this season is allergic to any kind of personal dialogue or introspection but I think it would be great if Din and Paz got to chat for a while.

Maybe Paz invites Din to come spar with him. He doesn’t know the full story, no one does, the Armorer deemed the specifics of Din’s blasphemy unimportant. But Din is back now. Redeemed. Darksaber still swinging on his belt. Paz has some complicated feelings about that still but Din beat him fair and square and so goddamn honorably that it’s water under the bridge.

And now Bo-Katan Kryze is the one walking the line for them. Something doesn’t sit right about that with Paz, even if Din doesn’t seem bothered.

So they spar. In between blows, Din tells him his story. Finding out the child is a Jedi. The Empire’s plot to capture him and use him for cruel experiments. All the people Din met along the way willing to put their lives at risk for him and his child.

Din losing the child.

The horrible choice to remove his helmet that was never really a choice at all because not doing so would have resulted in the death of his foundling. His child. His son.

Their reunion cut short by another impossible choice to let his child embrace his own heritage.

The months spent alone and aimless, seeing less and less point in being careful or cautious because what did it truly matter anymore? Dar’manda. Soulless, blasphemer, apostate.

The tiniest glimmer of hope in an old legend promising redemption. Again, there was never really a choice.

Paz knows the rest.

Din lands a hit and the sound of struck armor rings out around them. He looks up, startled at Paz allowing such an obvious strike past his guard.

“I misjudged you.” Paz says.

“This is the wa—“

“No. This is…unfair. What was done to you was excessive. Cruel.”

Din is silent. He’s been quiet since his return, like he’s afraid to call any attention to himself. Nothing like the strong willed pain-in-the-ass beroya Paz remembers.

“The Armorer says Bo-Katan walks in both worlds now. That she will be the one who unites our people.” Paz gestures at Din’s side, where the darksaber rests. “That weapon says otherwise.”

“I didn’t want any of this.” Din finally says, so softly Paz barely hears it.

“Maybe not. But is this not a cause worth your effort? The people won’t follow a false prophet.”

“I’m—I’m no prophet. I’m not special, I’m not anyone important. I don’t want to lead.”

“That is exactly why you should, Djarin. You walked between worlds. You possess the darksaber. You gave up your soul in service of your foundling and then risked your life for mine.”

“I am no one.”

“You are Mand’alor,” Paz punctuates his statement with a salute, rapping his vambrace against his chest. The resulting ring of beskar striking beskar echoes around them.

“And I will follow wherever you lead.”

[terriblygrimm]

all that ep did was prove to me that din is just so.. casually more well equipped to handle the galaxy and leadership? its so funny like he has some serious good will hunting syndrome going on.

[yukipri]

You do our big blue mando justice with your artwork and I especially love the moments with young Din and Paz together. Keep doing what you do and don't let anyone bring you down.

Thanks for liking my take on Paz and Din! I like the idea of them having very long, close, and complicated history together ^ ^

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[insanefemme]

Just finished reading Powerless

Fuck

I mean some parts were like divergent meets hunger games

But as a romance lover most of what I care about is the relationship anyway

And man

Oooof

I am glad I read it today so that the sequel is just a month away

But I'm already dreading having to wait a year for the finale

We better fucking get some Kai and Paedyn steamy scenes in book 2