#din and boba you say? SAY MORE

[asenkaengel]

The Mandalorian season 3 is living proof that the writer's guild knew they were going to strike MONTHS in advanced.

There were so many character inconsistencies, and major plot lines just skipped over entirely. Plot threads that went absolutely nowhere, and overall, the show just kind of looked sloppy? The season just felt kind of incomplete, in my opinion.

Like they hastily threw it together to fill out the time before they (rightfully, we support fair wages for all on this page 😌) striked.

[oflgtfol]

and like at first glance mando armor all looks strikingly similar but then you look closer and you realize theres so much variation like even just in the helmet designs you have different little variations in the visor shape, the fucking "cheek indent" shape, the forehead, the ear pieces, etc and then it comes down to like well how much of that can be personal customization, and then what can you potentially say about the person inhabiting the armor by just the armor design? if the helmet is their face, then what does the helmet portray about their personality? but then i also love the idea of like actual mandalorian families who pass on certain armor characteristics like maybe this one family carries on this one specific visor shape or whatever, so despite it being armor you can still somehow see familial resemblance between them. idk i just think its neat. lol

[mando-abs]

Legit Din in this

happy holidays!

[joelsbloodyhands]

Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? ���� not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Too Sweet

A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.

Word count: 1.6k+

Hours later, you’re still in shock.

Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar. 

Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face. 

It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness. 

Key word being darkness.

Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke. 

“Mesh’la.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder. 

“Din.” You returned.

He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers. 

“You know, words are- Din!”

The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years. 

But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.

He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit. 

Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright. 

The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with laces where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey. 

You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap. 

“What happened to you?”

His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.

“Stars, Din.��� You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”

He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”

“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply. 

If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world. 

The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear. 

“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.” 

You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more. 

“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”

Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and legs straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around. 

“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”

“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”

“What does that mean?”

Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”

You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”

“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”

Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”

Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better. 

“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”

You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”

He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.  

“I promise.”

You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you. 

*

The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you. 

It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.

You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din. 

“Damn it.” You breathe. 

“What are you damning?”

You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”

The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed. 

“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”

Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead. 

“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”

It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead. 

“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”

___________________________________________________

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Masterlist | Send me ideas

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP FOUR

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

BOBA FETT

Anon: Boba The Builder, can he do it? Boba The Builder, yes he can!

@spacetime1969: He grew up in the political game that is the criminal underworld and managed to out manuver all the other groups on Tatooine to take control of the planet. That's not something you can pull off without political and tactical skill.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: - Boba Fett was explicitly raised by his father, past Mand'alor Jango Fett, to be the legacy of his own adopted buir, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel; while this training did seem to focus more on the bounty hunting and mercenary aspects of their work, it presumably included many lessons about working with people and negotiating, both of which would come in very handy - Boba is commonly held to be a classic example of a child who grew up in a cultural diaspora, feeling largely disconnected from his Mandalorian roots; given the climate on Mandalore after the Galactic Empire glassed it during the Rebellion Era, his experience is likely representative of many of the surviving Mandalorians, who likely also grew up away from their traditional homeworlds in the sector, possibly even in hiding as in the case of Din Djarin's Covert - speaking of Din Djarin, the strong respect between him and Fett would likely put Fett in good standing with those traditionalists, who would similarly respect Fett's connection to their people as the son of a Foundling, even if he wasn't raised the same way as them - in Legends, Fett's connection with Goran Beviin and his family really brought him more fully back into Mandalorian culture, and in a way that makes a good story to sell to reporters (and readers, breaking the fourth wall a bit there, lol) - finally, Boba DID become Mand'alor in Legends continuity, and one that seemingly enjoyed popular support!

Anon: You know what? Boba Fett was given a bad hand in life. He’s done some bad things. But you know what he’s shown? Drive. Commitment. Determination. Resilience. Willpower. And a shocking refusal to die when he’s gone up against bitches badder than himself. Thats more than some Mandalorian leaders can say for themselves. He keeps going. And it’d be funny. Here IS how Jaster can still win. - Also I think that he would be pretty chill. Cody prolly couldnt be. We’ve seen him rule a city, maybe questionably.. but he was hot doing it. Fennec would probably help him and she’s hot too. Din would prolly be good with it. Cody’s last experience ruling was being involved in the empire and witnessing a horrible execution after negotiating a surrender. He prolly wants nothing to do with it now. And good for him! Let!! Cody!!! Retire!!! This isn’t a popularity contest.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: Boba Fett literally was the Mand’alor in legends, and he did a pretty fine job

COMMANDER CODY

Anon: Propaganda for Commander Cody: - Cody was a student of Alpha-17, who in turn had been personally trained by former Mand'alor Jango Fett, giving him a strong training lineage claim to the title - Cody's service as Marshall Commander in the GAR gave him a lot of the diplomatic, organizational, and military experience needed to govern a planet like Mandalore

@spacetime1969: This man has led more people at once than anyone on this list.

Anon: Cody should be Mand'alor because it would be unspeakably sexy

@cha0s-cat: Cody has experience with negotiating from accompanying Obi-Wan, he leads a massive amount of his brothers already. Can recognize when there is a need for negotiations vs a need for violence. This would balance out the majority of the two factions (pacifists/traditionalists) excluding the extremists on either end. And with the amount of chaos that he has to deal with when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin, this would probably be relaxing.

@skykind: - Has resisted facism and its attendant police/military state at great personal risk (Bad Batch 2.3), which is apparently necessary to successfully govern Mandalore so long as Death Watch is fully armed and also backed by someone more cunning than their usual leadership (Clone Wars 5.15). - Possesses exceptional leadership and organizational ability from his time as one of the highest-ranked Clone officers of the GAR. The Clone Wars and Bad Batch narratives furthermore present him as Obi-Wan’s peer, so he should be interpreted as equally skilled, wise, kind, and unhinged-in-battle as Obi-Wan. Jury’s out on the sarcasm. - Turns to diplomacy before fighting (Bad Batch 2.3). - Has caught a Jedi’s lightsaber mid-battle at least two times (Clone Wars 1.20 and Revenge of the Sith). This is a very useful skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who keep chucking the darksaber about. - Has returned a lightsaber to a Jedi at least two times. This is a crucial skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who should stop selecting said leader via darksaber acquisition.

[dindjarindiaries]

I Still See You

summary: In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, trauma, religious guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.582k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

You could only take your first deep breath when Din was finally back in your sight. He trudged down the boarding ramp of Boba Fett’s vessel, a stark contrast to the confidence with which he carried himself on Karthon upon facing Mayfeld. The Imperial armor he wore was no doubt responsible for that.

These thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind as you closed the gap between you with hurried steps. Your greeting was breathless in your hardly concealed desperation. “Hey.” You set your hand on his shoulder that was down a pauldron, a substitution for the embrace you so badly wished to give him. You knew better with the eyes of others watching you. “How’d it go?”

Din took a gentle grasp on your wrist and subverted your expectations in a way that made your eyes go wide. He dropped your hand from his shoulder and, despite the watching eyes, wrapped his arms around you, his gloved palms splayed upon your back. He was tense with a breath you could feel in the heaviness of his shoulders as you held him back, but he released the tension with a sigh of relief as his fists gently closed around the material of your tunic.

He was grounding himself back to you, and as sweet as that feeling was, it was also harrowing. Something had gone wrong. Your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach. Have we lost all hope of getting Grogu back?

“We got the coordinates.” Din spoke as if he had just read your mind. His voice was quiet, but not enough to give anything away.

You exhaled in your own relief, your eyes closing as you held him tighter. “Thank the stars.” You paused to see if he would reveal what was behind the invisible weight on his shoulders, and when he didn’t, you spoke once again. “What else?”

Din’s chest inflated with a breath. “That’s it. The mission’s done.” He pulled away from you but kept you close, gesturing with his helmeted head back to the ship behind him. “I’m letting Mayfeld change before I do the same.” His rasp slightly gave out as he said the words, a tell only you could identify.

You gave him another once-over and moved closer to him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Din looked away from you, one of his gloved hands holding his fist as he let out a gentle exhale. “Just… had a run-in with some pirates.” He rolled his shoulders and tapped the armorless one you had been holding earlier. “This armor isn’t as strong as beskar.”

You weren’t fully convinced, but his logic tracked. There was no doubt a fight without his beskar would leave him sore, especially if he had forgotten about the fact he wasn’t wearing it. “How many pirates?”

Din huffed, his hands falling back to his sides. “Let’s just say it was more than one.”

You managed to chuckle with him as you nudged his bare shoulder with your own. “That explains all those explosions.”

The visor of Din’s Imperial helmet gave you an evident once-over. “You weren’t near them, were you?”

“No, not at all.” You couldn’t help smiling at his concern for you. “The three of us were just surprised by them at the lookout.”

Din nodded. “Good.”

Something still wasn’t right, and it hung between you like a dense storm cloud. Even as Din’s visor looked beyond you, his gloved hand found yours, and he held your fingers in his grasp. The move was subconscious, another act of grounding that he had to do.

Yet, he still wouldn’t tell you why.

You wanted to believe, and could truly believe, that it was just the longing for Grogu, and the guilt that had been eating away at him ever since Tython. That was what had kept him up at night whenever you attempted rest before this mission. In his eyes, it was his own failure, and it always would be until he could make things right.

Now, he had the coordinates. You all did. You had the chance to help him make things right, but that darkness didn’t disappear from him. In fact, it was more intense than before.

“How was Mayfeld?” You hoped the question would ease the tension somehow, or at least help you get to the root of whatever Din was hiding from you. “I almost thought he wouldn’t make it back with the way he was talking before you left.”

Din tensed. So, it had something to do with Mayfeld. That didn’t surprise you; it only made you kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “It was… better than expected.” Din nodded and looked at you again. “He wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.” He gave his head a quick tilt to the side. “Most of the time, at least.”

“Yeah?” You offered him a small smile, hoping it would either dispel or reveal the invisible weight he held upon his shoulders. “I bet that bonding time spent inside the juggernaut wasn’t awkward at all.”

That at least got a chuckle out of Din. “Yeah. It was…” He trailed off, his visor looking into the distance again. His grasp on your hand pulsated, as if he couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go.

You gave him time, but soon, your concern got the best of you. Your voice was a whisper as you called for him. “Din?”

Din’s visor found your gaze, though he couldn’t speak before someone else did. “Good work back there,” Cara’s voice announced from behind you. You closed your eyes and took a breath, forcing yourself to mask your worry for now as you turned to face her. She nodded at Din. “Destroying the facility was a good call.”

“It wasn’t mine.” Din gestured to the ship behind him. “It was Mayfeld’s.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Huh.” Her tone revealed her genuine surprise. “Well, he really has some sharpshooter in him, I’ll give him that. It was a nice shot.”

“It was.”

“You made it easy for us.” It was Fennec who now joined the group, and she rested the end of her rifle against the ground to lean on it as she offered Din a nod of her own. “The three of us didn’t have to do much.”

“I saw your shots when we made our exit.” Din’s hand had dropped yours when Cara approached, but it remained busy at his side, pulling tight into a fist before relaxing again. “We couldn’t have made it without them.”

Your jaw tightened at that. The same thought had run through your mind whilst you were helping Cara and Fennec shoot down the Imperials. It’s what made your shots even more lethal.

“Mando!” Mayfeld’s voice was the one that grabbed everyone’s attention that time. Din practically whipped over his shoulder to face Mayfeld, who had changed back into the clothes he had been given at the beginning of the mission. “You’re good to go.”

Din tilted his helmet. “That was fast.”

Mayfeld huffed. “Yeah, that’s ‘cause I don’t have a thousand layers of armor to exchange.” He patted Din’s shoulder as he passed him by, and you were shocked to see that Din wasn’t bothered by it. “Good luck getting that off. It’s harder than it was to put on, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

Din snorted, and after a moment’s hesitation in which you were certain he shuffled towards you, he walked back towards the ship. You watched him the whole way, your jaw circling as you read him the best you could. Based on his interaction with Mayfeld, that wasn’t the key, after all. There was something far, far worse he was hiding, but you couldn’t think of what it would be.

There was a gentle hand on your shoulder, and as you turned to face it, you met Cara’s comforting glance. “So,” she began, clearly trying to get your mind off Din for the time being, “I heard the mission was a success.”

You cracked a genuine smile at that. “Yes. We have the coordinates.” Your gaze found Mayfeld’s and you nodded at him. “Thank you for your help.”

Mayfeld held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it wasn’t really my choice.” Cara rolled her eyes as you lifted an eyebrow in warning. “But, really, it was mostly Mando. I just…” he paused, stalling as his gaze looked off to the side, “supported him.”

Your brow furrowed. Before you could interrogate him, Cara continued the conversation, remaining curt with him so as to not give him any true authority—despite how well the mission went. You were too lost inside your own mind to pay any attention to what they were saying. Mayfeld’s behavior was almost as odd as Din’s.

There was something you weren’t being told, and Din wasn’t the only one keeping it a secret.

Only the chiming of the comm link on your belt could pull you from your worried reverie. You stepped out of the circle the group had made and held the comm close to your lips. “Din?” Your gaze pierced through the open hatch of Boba’s ship. “Is everything okay?”

There was a pause before Din spoke. “Can you come help me?” Your heart shattered at the way his voice shook even through the comm link. “I… need help re-suiting.”

That was fair. You had been a part of the routine in helping Din remove and re-suit his beskar for so long that it was no surprise he needed your help to do it now—but something about it still felt different. That wasn’t a request. It was a plea. “Of course. I’m on my way.” You hung the comm link back on your belt and turned your head towards the group. “I’ll be back.”

As you started to walk towards the ship, Cara shot a lighthearted joke towards you. “You two better not take long! We’ve got an Imp to hunt!”

You lifted your middle finger without looking back at her, even if the joke managed to temporarily dispel the darkness from your racing thoughts. You smiled and shook your head as you lowered your hand, but as soon as you stepped into Boba’s ship and caught sight of Din within its depths, every sensation of warmth within you died.

For the first time since you met him many years ago, you were looking upon a pair of brown eyes instead of a dark visor.

You wanted to cover your eyes, turn your back on him, do anything to keep yourself from breaking Din’s Creed, but there was no point. The damage had been done. All you could do was stare, your gaze no doubt leaving a fiery trail across the skin of his face as you observed every inch of it.

One thousand emotions hit you all at once; the grief of knowing what Din had lost in doing this, the elation of finally getting to put a face to your heart, the concern of looking into an empty gaze, the blazing warmth of realizing he was even more handsome than you had imagined. It was dizzying.

The only thing that could cut through the noise of your own mind and heart was Din’s shattered statement. “I can’t do it.”

You frowned, then looked at what he was holding. His helmet sat between his gloved hands, the empty visor facing you. Din’s own gaze was studying it, watching as the metal rocked between his trembling hands. Your furrowed brow loosened.

Din thought he had already broken his Creed before you even stepped inside the ship.

You took a cautious step towards him. “Din…”

“The Creed says I can’t put this back on again.” You watched the corner of Din’s mouth pull tight before it relaxed again. There was a place under his eye that began to twitch, and you wished more than anything that you knew the tells of his face just as you knew them on the rest of his body. “I’ve made my sacrifice.”

You continued to close the gap between you with careful steps. “All you did was exchange one helmet for another, Din. And not for long, either. You did what you had to for the foundling in your charge.”

Din shook his head, his jaw pulled tight as his gaze rose to meet yours again. You froze, the electricity of it shocking you whole, despite the devastation you found there in the depths of his brown eyes. “No.” He paused, swallowing hard as he focused on his helmet again. “They saw me.”

You kept your voice soft as you pressed on. “Who saw you?”

Din slowly fell back onto the chair that was behind him. His gaze never once left the helmet, as if looking anywhere else would sever his sole tether to the galaxy. “Everyone in that room saw me.”

You were finally close enough to touch him, but you knew better than to reach for his face, as badly as you wanted to. Instead, your hand covered one of his on his helmet, and you knelt down to get closer to his level. Your quiet comfort allowed Din to explain himself.

“There was a terminal that held the coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser. It required a facial scan.” Din lifted his thumb to caress one of your fingers the best he could. “I had no other choice. It was either that or…” He couldn’t even bring the thought to life.

“You made the right one.” You nodded at Din, pleased to at least earn his gaze once again.

“I know.” Din’s voice lowered to an empty whisper as that place beneath his eye twitched again. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

You took a deep breath to keep yourself composed for his sake. “I understand.” Your free hand ran over the top of his helmet that continued to sit in his lap. “Removing your helmet to save a foundling, though… is that not the highest honor of your people?”

Din hesitated, and he blinked a few times before nodding. You smiled in encouragement.

“This wasn’t you removing your helmet for a simple pleasure or for an escape from who you are, Din.” You took his hand from his helmet and held it between both of yours. “This was you doing everything you could to save someone in your care.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Someone you love.”

Din’s eyes closed at that, and he squeezed them shut more and more as he tucked his head towards the shoulder that bore his mudhorn pauldron. His voice shook again as he spoke. “I hope he’s okay.”

“It won’t be long now until we have him back.” You ran your thumbs over his hand. “Thanks to you.”

Din reopened his eyes and found your gaze again. For a moment, his lips curled up in a small smile, one that was notable enough to make your stomach fill with butterflies as you witnessed it for the first time. It was short-lived, however, as he soon began to frown and lose himself in the depths of your own gaze. His voice was a pained whisper. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at that. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Din took a hold of one of your wrists and guided your hand to the side of his face. As soon as you touched the warmth of his skin, he leaned into your palm, his eyes closing for a moment before he faced you with what felt like tangible despair. “I wanted it to be you.”

He didn’t have to explain it. He had told you enough times over the years for you to know. He had always wanted you to be the first to see him again, and he was intent on making that happen after this quest was over.

You pieced your own shattered heart together and smiled at him. “And here I am.” Your thumb ran over the skin under his eye that had twitched before, and based on the way his eyes welled with tears he no doubt refused to shed, you were able to determine what that tell of his meant. “I’m still seeing you.”

Din’s gaze gave you a nervous once-over. The warmth returned to your body upon getting to see it, rather than having to rely on the movement of his helmet. “What do you think?”

You smiled more and gently set aside his helmet with your free hand. “Can I show you?”

His gaze flickered to your lips before he nodded with another small smile of his own. You rose and took your place upon him, one that was as familiar as his lips were—only this time, it would finally be different. There would be no dent across his nose from the lip of his helmet, and no wrinkles in the skin around your eyes from a cloth pulled tight across them. Instead, it would be you and him, as pure and as perfect as you were meant to be.

You held onto him with all the same desperation he had just shown you, one of your hands cupping the side of his jaw and neck as the other wound itself tight in the hair that flowed freely from his head. Your mouth slotted over his time and time again and with each breath you shared, you intended to pull the darkness from within him, as if you could make a sacrifice as great as his own by taking away all his pain. You tilted his head back further to deepen it, intensifying every feeling until it could overwhelm whatever lies and harsh truths tore at his mind.

You only pulled away from each other when your lungs demanded it, your lips lingering as you relished in the last bit of sweet intoxication you could get. You opened your eyes to see Din’s still closed, as if he too was savoring the moment. His eyes began to flutter open when you ran your nails over the skin of his neck, guiding your hand to his cuirass.

“What did that tell you?” Your voice was breathy from both your lack of air and your sweet desire.

The corner of Din’s mouth rose before he answered in the same tone. “That I made a mistake making you wait this long for me.”

You returned his smile. “You haven’t made a single mistake.” You leaned down to pick his helmet up and tucked it under your arm. “Especially not today.”

Din’s gaze clouded with a brief spell of darkness that faded the moment you lifted your free hand to brush his hair away from his face.

“You’re everything I dreamed of and more, Din.” You kissed his forehead, smiling against his skin when he physically relaxed underneath your touch. When you pulled away, you faced him with sweet severity. “You will always be worth the wait.”

Din smiled, a sight so breathtakingly beautiful you never wanted to let it go—but Din was eager to share in your love again as his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back to him. This time, he was the one who devoured you, his lips remaining on yours while his hands explored places that left you flustered.

You only broke apart when you heard a familiar voice yell from outside the ship. “Hey, kids! I said don’t take long!” Cara’s words made the two of you pull away instantly, and once you were sure she wasn’t looking inside the ship, you laughed with one another. “We’ve got other things to do!”

“We’ll be right out!” You managed to compose your laughter enough to get the words out, and with a deep breath, you fell back into severity. You took the helmet from under your arm and held it between your hands. “You may not be able to do this, but…” you paused and lowered the helmet over Din’s head, “I can do it for you.”

Din rested his helmet against your forehead, his hands holding your wrists to bring your hands to his chest. After a long pause, he spoke with a voice that was strained with meaning. “Thank you.” He gave your wrists a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

You beamed at him. “I love you, too.” You added a kiss to his visor and sat up more. “I’ll always be here for you, Din. You know that.”

“I do.” Din eased his hands upon your waist and lifted the two of you from the chair. “That’s why I commed you.”

You only smiled wider at his words, your gaze searching the depths of his visor for the brown warmth hidden beneath it as he ran his hand over your back. Not everything was resolved; it was never that easy. Din would be wrestling with this day for a long time. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that his sacrifice was given even more meaning, and he understood that you saw him in a way that went beyond mere sight. For now, that would be enough, just as he would always be enough for you.

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

.

"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

.

Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn. 

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate. 

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug. 

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli. 

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold. 

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship. 

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction. 

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit. 

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present. 

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed. 

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked. 

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his. 

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.” 

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship. 

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore. 

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging. 

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry. 

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm. 

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated. 

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting. 

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran. 

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help. 

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured. 

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with. 

Was it still true?

“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love. 

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him. 

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured. 

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion. 

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

 Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

[omaano]

SW Hades AU May Status Update

I wanted to make a dedicated post about what I’m currently working on for the Star Wars meets Hades AU that looks more consistent than just sharing bits and pieces whenever I’m tagged in a Last Line Challenge. Because what else do I have but the poly sketch requests and this AU for my weekends? (If nothing else I know that the Hades AU has got me XD)

Other updates: June - July - August

For now Obi-Wan and Maul are stuck at the same stage: they are both lined, have their base colours down as well as the two adjustment layers of coloured lighting.

I suspect if I were ever to get through the agonozing few hours of shading Obi-wan’s face it would be mostly smooth sailing from there. The problem is that there are at least 2 - if not 3 - separate stages where the shaded face looks like I have no idea what I’m doing, and you need to get through the whole thing before it really comes together 😅 on the other hand Hades 2 has a lot of the directional shading I might need for his character art so that might help to get me there.

It also needs to be said that Obi-Wan comes with the extra disadvantage that is the entire background behind him. I’m really hyped to line it finally, it is quite a challenge, but at the same time I’m slowly coming to the realization that I have no idea how I will colour it. Hades backgrounds are so so pretty and full of details and gorgeous colours, and while I’m not delusional enough to think I could match that on first try… I still wish I could, you know? At the same time I will have to erase or recolour a lot of my lines, which will hurt quite a bit, I imagine. I’m so bad at killing my darlings 😅 also I hate laying down flat colours. I just find it very difficult to immerse myself in that process, while lining and shading can have their flow.

I had covered up so many lines and details in Maul’s spider parts it’s a miracle I didn’t cry XD However, tips on grouping my shadows and allowing the shape to speak for itself and the details in them are very helpful and on point.

Worrying over writing dialogue for them is also not as far down my to-do list as I wish it were. I have a good enough idea for a quip for Obi-wan, but Maul? He’d need a whole melodramatic rant of his own XD

Aphra has gotten some new lines and I had fixed the satchel I had forgotten the last time I shared the rough sketch for her, thanks to the new character art for Hades 2! Seeing Odysseus and Hermès’s updated looks were great helps here, so I might as well move on to lining her, and finally adding another female character to the roster on top of Ahsoka!

And then there is the biggest update on these little guys below! I will need to clean up the ones I had drawn for Cobb and Boba (and Din) well over a year ago, but with these my version of chtonic companions are done, and thanks to @lesquatrechevrons I have a full list of keepsakes for each character as well. I’m not very good at drawing these little tchotchkes (I say with Rex’s blaster right there LOL) but I hadn’t been very good at lineart or cell shading when I started this project either, so through forced practice I’m determined to change that :D

(It’s not a screwdriver under Boga, it’s one of Cody’s antennas. “It will grow back, don’t worry,” he says as he snaps it off his pauldron and hands it over to Din. Rex backs him up on that one without question. They can't lie for shit but trolling the shiny is their thing.)

Additional fun fact: the reason why I’d picked up the chtonic companions concepts was because I’d been poking at minor details in the background behind Maul (aside from the Chaos doors), and I started adding credits and recoloured nectar to the corner (before I realized that they wouldn’t be visible once the character interaction comes up oops), and I tried to figure out to whose keepsakes Maul would react favorably. I also mixed up companion dolls and keepsakes, so that’s why the Ahsoka doll came to being (I also forgot that that one belongs to Rex, and not Ahsoka herself but uh… they are close enough that they should count by proxy anyway. It’s not Obi-wan’s cup of tea and that should be enough!). Also bless @mapleowl18 for suggesting Lil Soka as companion for Rex ❤️

So this is the current state of this AU project right now. I have my lists and notes, a few scribbled pose ideas in my sketchbook for Sabine (she might be next, unless Bo and her Nite Owls make a comeback), Satine and Omega (with Batcher), as well as some angry scribbles and question marks for Quinlan (who has apparently made his way back into this AU even though he didn’t get a little icon of his own originally orz), and Obi-wan The Second that would stand with Cody post reunion, but I cannot make that one work for now 😅

[antianakin]

Listen, there is a difference between "The clones being Mandalorian is a headcanon that works" and "The clones being Mandalorian is the intended canonical reading."

Yes, there's a few extremely minor design choices that, if you are IMMENSELY familiar with Mandalorian Legends content and a very eagle-eyed viewer, seem to indicate a connection between a few of the clones and that identity (although at least one of those design choices is just a symbol for a Mando ship which could just as easily be a connection to that kind of ship rather than anything to do with it being Mando specifically).

But if you do not know these symbols by heart already and aren't specifically looking for it, you'll never notice that connection.

You know what WOULD have shown more of a connection between the clones and being Mando? Having the clones actually SAY SOMETHING about it when they're confronted with canonical Mandalorians. Rex and Cody (and several of their men) spend an entire episode on a Mandalorian ship surrounded by Mandalorians and never make a single mention of it. Rex and the 332nd all go to Mandalore to save it from Maul and there isn't a single indication that anybody involved considers there to be a connection between the clones and Mandalore. As far as Rex and the clones are concerned, this is just another mission and there's far more visual connection to Ahsoka than there is anything Mandalorian. And then Sabine meets Rex, Gregor, and Wolffe on Seelos and spends quite a lot of time working with Rex afterward and there's never any indication of them connecting over a shared Mandalorian identity.

You would think, if the writers wanted there to be a CLEAR OVERT CANONICAL CONNECTION between the clones and the Mandalorians, they'd have taken advantage of these multiple opportunities to do so, but they didn't. These were both shows for CHILDREN, they're not all that subtle when they want you to know something. If the audience was supposed to understand that the clones were Mandalorians, they'd have said so. You can argue that some of this is just because Lucas had Jango's Mandalorian identity stripped in TCW for his own purposes, but that doesn't explain everything in Rebels or TCW season 7 when Lucas was no longer that involved (and Filoni was clearly making changes to how the Mandalorians were being represented anyway, so if he WANTED to make the clones Mandalorian, he could've done so).

Being Mandalorian does not seem to be a specific ethnicity. Jango is played by someone who is Polynesian, but he's the ONLY Mandalorian we ever see with that ethnicity and there seems to be a wide variety of ethnicities among the people who do identify as being Mandalorian. Being Mandalorian appears to be more of a NATIONALITY. You are Mandalorian because you were either born within the Mandalore system yourself or because you are the child (biological or adopted) of a Mandalorian. The clones are neither. They are obviously not born anywhere near the Mandalore system and the only person who might be considered their "father" never acknowledges them as his children (depending on your source, he actually considers them basically chattel and not people at all). So the clones cannot claim Mandalorian heritage through the location of their birth OR through their parentage. Jango is not their father, he has never BEEN their father, and he would probably vehemently deny being their father if anyone had the ability to ask him about it.

It also feels worth nothing that, while The Mandalorian did re-canonize Jango's own connection to being Mandalorian, they did NOT make Boba a Mandalorian. Din straight up ASKS Boba if he's a Mandalorian and Boba says no. Boba confirms that Jango was a Mandalorian foundling, but he DOES NOT take the identity for himself. He uses it a little to convince Din to let him take the armor back, but that's more about appealing to DIN'S values than it is indicative of Boba's own. To Boba, it's important because it's a connection to his father and because, you know, it's his and it was stolen from him. It's not important for the reasons Sabine seems to lay out when she describes her armor as being a connection to 500 generations of her family or whatever.

So if Boba, who DOES arguably have a claim to consider himself Mandalorian through his connection to Jango, does not actually consider himself a Mando, why would the CLONES automatically be Mandalorian? When they had the opportunity to explicitly make Boba a Mandalorian again, they chose NOT TO, so why would I ever believe that the intended understanding about the clones is that they are all automatically Mandalorian just because they happen to look like Jango?

If you want to headcanon the clones as Mandalorian, go right ahead, nobody is stopping you. But let's not pretend that it's CANON that the clones are all Mandalorian or that we the audience were expected to see them as Mandalorian. It is just as canon to say that they AREN'T Mandalorian and have never felt any connection to being Mandalorian as it is to claim the opposite. And there's a lot more evidence to support the idea that they're not.

[astraerystarr]

Din Djarin x Boba Fett fic recs

Agonistic Courtship by Selma (FAVE) [M, 114.015 w., ongoing]

When a strange artifact calls out to the Child, Din sets out on a journey that takes him to the wildest parts of Wild Space. Also, Boba Fett shows up and the problem is that he refuses to leave. That is, it's only a problem until it isn't.

~ The first bobadin fic I read and my favourite to this day. it has fluff, angst, action, Grogu being cute — the whole package

A Century Of Lonely Nights by Hammocker [E, 11.917 w.]

Din had heard stories about the palace being a hub of every flavor of drug and degeneracy in the galaxy, and certainly not without its racier entertainment, but this was something else. Something entirely unexpected and foreign to him."

~ Din and Bobba dance!

Pel'gam Copad by Cryo_Bucky [E, 6k+ w.]

"Pel'gam Copad" lit. "Skin desire" - the need to touch and be touched by another person.

Din doesn't know what he wants after losing everything he's known, but tagging along with Fennec and Boba Fett isn't so bad. Maybe if Boba would stop touching him he could think straight.

~ I blushed reading this and that's saying something

A Series of Unfortunate Collisions by skrrtnation [Teen and Up, 40k+ w.]

Din Djarin is a bounty hunter desperately trying to make a few extra bucks by streaming his bounties on the holonet. Boba Fett is a veteran hunter with a cult following returning to the holos after 10 years out of the game.

After running into each other on the job, Boba proposes a scheme: stage a rivalry to make more money. For Grogu and the covert, Din can't refuse.

But Din can't outrun the imperial remnants forever. Instead, they'll face them together.

~ I was obsessed for MONTHS after reading this kskdjh

Hang your last lariat in the hallway by whimsicalimages [E, 9k+ w.]

The man turns to face him fully, then, helmet tilting. “You got a point, Fett?”

He’s not usually so impatient, from what Boba’s seen, but he’s been coiled tight as a spring since Morak. It’ll mean trouble, if he gets impulsive on the mission. “No,” Boba says. “But I’ve got an offer.”

(Or: 5 times Din didn’t show Boba his face + 1 time he did.)

~ good reading!

Deleted my last account @numbraerys and had to reupload this ^^

[lux-ishii]

Episode 6 dropped and love is literally in the air... so let's dive in...

We start the episode with an interesting story of a Romeo and Juliette trope. Specifically, a Captain and a Calamari Prince fell in love and run away together, causing danger of war between their species by doing so.

You may think it has nothing to do with either Din or Bo, but if you read my previous post you already know everything is intentional.

They could put here anything, absolutely anything. A pirate, bounty hunter, escaped prisoner... But they put two lovers who with their actions could bring harm to others. It's not truly a happy story, as the woman said before her love confession:

You see, after rewatching previous seasons I noticed that The Mandoverse likes to foreshadow what will happen in one way or another. Mythosaur discovery was foreshadowed by The Armorer in The Book of Boba Fett, for example. So this story here could be a potential warning, or hint at what may happen to Bo and Din. A Princess with a fleet, and a man who isn't considered a true Mandalorian because of his origin (Axe's words). After this episode, I'm pretty sure that Din and Bo are already in love. However, they didn't take any on-screen action to solidify the things we see between the lines. I do believe their relationship will progress further, and...

They may reach the point where things get complicated just because of who they are. You see the lovers from this episode can foreshadow Bo's or Din's dilemma about what they should do for the greater good. They may fall apart if the cause of their interest won't align, or be on the way.

HOWEVER, it may also be used as a future contrast that despite these odds and differences, they would not give up on what they feel for each other. Which I think would go together with true Mandalorian nature. This season is all about what it means to be a true Mandalorian, which is not just a fight for power. It's about caring for one another, especially a family. Mandalorians are stronger together, after all.

More under the cut!

Can we take a moment to talk about how Din IS JUST THERE?

We were making theories if he will go with Bo or not when the show... literally treats them as one already. Whenever she goes, he goes, and vice versa. Without empty promises, they just do it.

And they "moved" to Bo's ship!

To dig into it further, this episode they were constantly walking side by side, to the point of going thru the doors together too if the space allowed it. You can check out this post >here< with more scenes

Glances.

As I mentioned in my previous posts, this form is a subtle tool for storytelling, yet it can hide a whole ton of meaning or can be truly innocent. This episode is full of glances, specifically put in interesting places and I will touch on those later.

Like this one is innocent, just saying "Where the hell we are?" without words.

I mention in the title of this post that "love is in the air" and here's another indication of it, a bizarre one to be sure as ex imperialist and a democrat fell in love despite their differences.

But... Grogu may be the biggest giveaway here:

We don't see Bo's or Din's reaction here at all, only the enthusiastic cooing of Grogu. I asked myself why? Because he matters too, as Din's son. Grogu could be excited about the couple and how happy they are together. He knows both Din and Bo struggle a lot, and they have dark, rather gloomy lives. What if his father was blessed with a love that would make him happy?

In this episode, we also have the first instance of someone recognizing Bo as a Mandalorian Royalty, despite the fact, there's technically nothing to rule for her. No planet, no people.

An indicator that for the outsiders she is still a rightful ruler, despite her own people not believing in her anymore.

Glances. She is not going to make this decision alone, looking for assurance in Din.

An then, at the mention of her ruling Mandalore again she responds with:

Bo doesn't want to rule Mandalore anymore. A theme that goes on since the beginning of the season. But I think just this episode we got a glimpse of the true reason why those plans truly changed.

We got a great sequence with Good Cop - Bad Cop trope. Bo and Din gave us some Detective AU right here, make it black and white and we get a whole Noir setup ready to launch...

But back to the topic. This was yet another example of how they complement each other. Bo's more soft and rational approach would lead to nowhere or would take way longer if not Din's aggressive and hostile take on the matter, and vice versa.

They aren't only a great team, they need each other.

Glances.

Bo for the first time saw the darker side of Din. We knew he had one, but she's pretty taken aback by his hatred of droids. Nonetheless, it doesn't make her fearful of him.

Quite the opposite in fact

as she becomes his voice of reason to hold his horses. She's not scared he would get back at her with this attitude at all.

They had a brief conversation about his hostility, and I'm glad they allowed Bo-Katan to remove her helmet because what Katee is doing with expressing her emotions is phenomenal.

This innocent sentence awakens a lot if you know where to look. And if not I will just show you.

Glances. After the droid, a machine that can outlast probably generations if maintained properly puts importance on human life, and how short it truly is Bo and Din look at each other, accompanied by a romantic melody.

Devil is in the details, as Bo took a deep breath before breaking contact with Din.

What does it mean? As per usual it can mean nothing, or it can mean a thing, and you know me already, I will talk about the thing. You never know when someone's words might hit you, and I think that droid hit Bo and Din pretty strongly. In this lifestyle, they both share, life is even more dangerous than the citizens of that planet. It's a constant battle for survival. Wars, monsters, your own kind... Everything can kill you if you are Mandalorian.

So they might think that there's no time to waste. An indicator that the actions may be taken soon. A way of saying "Life is short so we can as well live together".

The investigation is a success, DinBo detectives can be proud of themselves for solving the issue, and as they came back to the Duchess with the results, we are once again struck with something. The motives of a man responsible for malfunction have their core in his hatred for the ex-imperial husband of the Duchess. So Duchess Lizzo blesses us with this line:

You see, both Din and Bo have past. And those who know TCW know that Bo's past is terrible. She made huge mistakes when she was younger, and she pays for them to this day.

I don't have a gif here, but at this moment you can see how Bo is moved by the exchange of these words, and you can see it all over her face, as her gaze is running away somewhere else.

Lizzo then recognizes the efforts, Bo and Din made, which put a smile on Bo's face. A rare sign, but it only gets better.

You see, I think Bo-Katan is genuinely happy here because she did something good, and her efforts are recognized.

It's safe to say that back at Kalevala, she was severely depressed. Thinking of herself as a failure that caused the doom of her planet and everyone she loved. Everyone left her, no one cared for her, and she was all alone. Then Din needed her help, and from then she was on a streak of doing good. I'm pretty sure that if not for the helmet we would see her smiling similar way after rescuing Rengar. Here, she not only helped people but also secured an alliance with another planet, simply by doing good, with no corruption or violence needed.

Look how proud she is when Grogu becomes a knight! @ladyzirkonia Already noticed in her post >here< that Bo is happier than ever. And It's absolutely true! We haven't seen her as happy ever before. Not when she was getting a new addition to her fleet back in Season 2, or not even when the Armorer announced she is the one to unite them all.

This leads us adress to the bantha in the room...

Where something important happens.

You see, there were many theories that what Bo's doing with Din is just a long play to challenge him when he least expects it, but this disproved it. And later it gets even more interesting.

You see... Axe is accusing Bo of intentionally refusing to challenge Din. Which would mean her people demanded it from her at some point.

Her refusal could be what lead them to leave, claiming she's weak, not only as a leader but also as a warrior, probably thinking she's afraid of challenging him.

However, Bo's motive may be rooted somewhere else.

Bo-Katan had no problem challenging Axe for her fleet, so why would she struggle so much to challenge Din? It was as necessary as getting the fleet back, so what was stopping her?

But she really didn't have to kill him to claim the blade. We saw it as Din and Paz fought for the Darksaber, and Vizsla is still alive.

(gifs by @itberice) Do you remember what I said about love in the air? Now, look back at the Captain and the Prince from the beginning, and Duchess Lizzo and her ex-imperial husband. Do you notice the similarity?

Bo-Katan stands up in front of so-called Mandalorians, that are ready to outcast someone like Din, just because his blood is not Mandalorian enough. Just like Lizzo stood up against Commissioner in defense of her ex-imperial partner.

Again @ladyzirkonia made a great post >here< saying what I'm gonna mention.

This is a great sign of what kind of leader Bo is going to be. She walks both ways, she took her time to understand Din's perspective, and because of everything that happened, he is the one who showed her The Way. The right one.

He let her understand what it means to be Mandalorian, and it's not the blood, but the heart and faith of a warrior.

Din Djarin, with all his adventures, made Bo-Katan the person she is now. And she is really fond of him, to the point of standing in his defense, even if before she was among the people who laughed at him.

I know everyone has mixed feelings about the Darksaber, and I fully myself don't sit right with it either, BUT it happened, and I'm here to make surgery on the symbolism here.

I know a lot of people think if Din gave the Darksaber like that, make it look pointless...

But I beg to differ.

You see, the Darksaber for Din and Bo actually lost its value. For him, it was a burden, and for Bo-Katan a symbol of everything she lost. But for everyone else? It still was a symbol of power.

I may sound here like I'm trying to defend the outcome, but I rather like to think I'm just taking a different perspective on it.

Hear me out, the point of Din getting the Darksaber maybe never was to show him as a potential leader, but rather put him on his path with someone who will make his life... better.

The Darksaber is something that put Din and Bo-Katan on the same way. A catalyst for everything we saw this season. Nothing of it wouldn't happened if Din didn't have the Darksaber. Just think about it, if in season 2 Bo got the Darksaber from Gideon, she would have her fleet, and wouldn't rot in her sadness on Kalevala, so there would be no one to save Din on his way to redeem himself. Giving this one sample to just show how big of a butterfly effect we are dealing here with.

So as much as I don't like the way the Darksaber was claimed, I truly don't think it makes everything pointless. For me, quite the opposite really. It's the reason why everything we see is happening.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hi! How about a good old hurt/comfort whump type prompt like a "this is gonna hurt" or the more fluffy "hey, don't look at that. Look at me". Maybe with Boba Fett or Mando.

Din Djarin x Reader | 1.9k words

Content: Hurt/Comfort, detailed descriptions of pain and injuries, a lil fluff toward the end

Pain, unlike any you'd ever felt before, radiating from the point of impact throughout the rest of your body. That was all you could think about as you lay on the ground, blinking up at the stars and holding on to whatever may be left of your life.

Neither of you had seen the ambush coming, which made your efforts to fight against it that much more chaotic. Din was a trained and skilled fighter, and even he had been struggling. You, whose abilities paled in comparison, had stood no chance. You ran as soon as he told you to, and then within the blink of an eye, you found yourself flat on your back wondering whether death may be the better option.

It was impossible to tell how long you lay there... writhing, sweating, praying. You couldn't even scream, let alone comprehend the passage of time. Even one second of this pain was far too long. When he finally came, you swore you'd aged years.

"Stay with me..."

"Hang in there..."

He repeated himself over and over. Or perhaps your delirious mind was replaying his words over and over. You weren't sure how you suddenly ended up inside of a cave. You preferred the view with the stars, to be honest.

"Din," you croaked out through cracked lips.

You knew was around somewhere; you could feel him in the air that gently moved around you. But it was hard to tell if he was tending to you in any particular way as your whole body radiated. Pain, pressure, heat... it swirled in and out with your vision, your consciousness.

"This is gonna hurt," you heard him say at some point and it almost made you laugh. Hurt. You were well past hurt now, Djarin.

And then the pain got worse. Thank the stars you hadn't actually laughed.

Where before it felt like your body was expanding with hot, heavy air, now it was like an electric bolt was slithering from your leg across every other appendage. You could taste it. There were sparks in your eyes. Whatever Din was trying to do to help, it only seemed to be making it worse.

You must have blacked out. You were opening your eyes again but couldn't remember ever closing them. You felt weaker. The pain was still there, but it felt... hidden? Like someone had thrown a blanket over it, trying to hide it from sight. It was as if your body had decided it could no longer feel something that intense again.

You risked using what energy you had to lift your head. You wanted to see the damage, what all the fuss was about. It was your right leg, gnarled and twisted in a bloody mess. There was blood all over the ground surrounding you, definitely more than should be outside of your body. No wonder you felt so tired.

"What the hell..." you breathed out in shock.

Din was by your leg, alternating between work on some kind of split and adding stitches to keep the blood at bay. As soon as you moved, he immediately shifted over to get you to lay back down.

"Hey, don't look at that. Look at me."

You did, and there was something off about what you were seeing. Din's large brown eyes met yours, full of a sort of strained determination, a warrior's hope that if he just pushed a little more, a little harder, the fight would soon be won. His hair was matted to his head in a sheen of sweat, and flecks of blood - likely yours - highlighted one side of his jaw. It would have been a little hot in any other circumstances. You'd always wondered if he ever looked more haggard than the cool and collected beskar helmet ever let on...

And that's when it hit you. He didn't have his helmet on.

"I just have a few stitches left," he was saying, voice completely unfiltered. "And then I can tighten the splint and that should keep your leg stable enough to travel. The bone will take a long time to reset, but if we can make it to the ship, I can get you somewhere safe where you can heal in peace. I just need you to stay strong a little while longer."

You didn't hear a single word he said. He had a hand clasped under your neck, his thumb brushing soothingly just by your ear. His eyes were so beautiful. They pleaded with you to stay awake, to keep looking.

You were dreaming.

You must be dreaming.

You were unconscious, pulled into an unknown state of being where your mind conjured up pleasant, wonderful images to keep the pain at bay, to keep you alive and sane. That's all this was. Din would never remove his helmet, not even for you.

"Stay strong," he said, squeezing the back of your head just enough to be reassuring. "I promise I'll get you out of here."

Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared and you were faintly aware of the pain starting up again in your leg, but you didn't care. So what if it was a dream. Gods, what a thing to dream of. You clung to the image and let yourself drift away with it peacefully....

* * *

It was strange, all the different ways one could feel pain. Sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.

The pain you felt when you woke again was definitely on the colder, number side, at least so long as you continued to lie still. It sucked, but it was a relief from what you'd endured before. Any movement that affected your general hip and leg areas, though, brought those sharp, prickly stings. So you did your best to limit your movements.

The view you had now was of the Razor Crest ceiling. You didn't remember the journey here at all. How had Din even managed? You shifted your hands a little. They were set at your sides and glided along familiar patterns of fabric, your own blankets. He had moved your cot out into the main hull, probably to better tend to you as needed.

Next, you tried testing your voice. You assumed Din would be up in the cockpit, trying to find a medical facility to take you to for better care. But something within you yearned to have him closer, to know you were not alone in this, that everything would be okay.

You could get out a few croaks, garbled groans that didn't resemble any known language. But that was all it took anyway. Din had been right there, just outside your field of vision. He came into view at your call.

He had his helmet on.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he was quick to reassure. A gloved hand laid gently on your shoulder but it didn't squeeze, no fingers caressed.

So maybe you had dreaming after all.

You felt a little disappointed, but that quickly passed now that you simply had him here with you again.

He brought some water up to your lips and helped you drink from it. You winced a few times as you lifted your head and jostled your spine, and therefore your hips and leg. But it was worth getting some hydration and helping bring back your voice.

"What the hell even happened," you managed to string together some words after you finished and settled back down.

Din's helmet just shook slowly, like he couldn't even comprehend the events. "It was all my fault. I--"

"Don't you dare say you should've seen them coming," you warned, knowing how he got with things like this. "And I wasn't asking about the ambush. What the hell happened to my leg?"

"Speeder bike. Caught you right in your side, fractured your femur. Worst bone to break. You're stable now but you'll have a long recovery time."

"Lucky me," you sighed.

"You lost a lot of blood, too," he added.

"Well, at least I'm alive," you offered, mostly to be dramatic. But a cock of his helmet and you knew those words carried much more weight.

"Yeah," he agreed somberly. "It was bad. I was... worried, for a while."

You didn't know what to say to that. If anything, you wished you could be the one to come to his side and provide him with comfort and healing. This whole situation was messed up.

Din sat back down beside you and you did your best to shift your head and keep him in view. He had his hands resting on the edge of the cot and his helmet was trained on them in thought.

"Do you... remember anything?" he asked timidly after a few moments.

You immediately remembered his face. The line of stubble along his upper lip. How his hair curled slightly along his temple. Those big, beautiful brown eyes....

"Bits and pieces," you responded. 

"Anything in particular?"

Now you were wondering if maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. He was acting like he didn't want to get caught for something.

"You really want me to revisit my trauma so soon, Djarin?" you teased.

"No, no, of course not," he quickly backpedaled and you both fell into an awkward silence for a minute.

You finally decided to pry a little further "...Why?"

"No reason."

"Hm." He wasn't giving you much to go off of. This was getting silly. "Well, come to think of it, I do remember something... odd..."

"Oh?"

His hand gripped the blanket anxiously next to you. You looked at his helmet and desperately wished you could see beyond it, to see how he felt so you could know what he wanted.

Oh but who were you kidding? You knew him well, just as he did you. You knew exactly what those eyes would be pleading for you to say, because you knew what was important to him. So you put him out of his misery.

"But you know, it's all so fuzzy. I was probably just hallucinating."

You slid your hand across to rest against his and gave it a short squeeze. He visibly relaxed and that made you just as happy as it would have been to hear him admit what had really happened.

"Okay, good. Um, I mean, that's... that's normal. You were in and out of it a lot."

Din let out a nervous breath but then gently twisted his hand around to hold yours properly.

"Were you really worried about me?" you asked.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I was."

You gave a comforting little smile and squeezed his hand again. "Well, thank you, for being there for me. And being here now."

"Of course. This is the way."

Normally you would've rolled your eyes at that, but now it was reassuring. Encouraging, even. In some ways, it symbolized a bond between you that you'd wondered would ever come. You'd been traveling together long enough, fighting together and dining together and making decisions together. Now you were helping each other live. He'd gotten you out of a firefight, pieced you back together, hefted you unconscious across a forest. And now he was staying, right here, right beside you, for no other reason than because he could.

And maybe, just maybe, he had given a little part of himself to you, too. Maybe on accident, sure, but meaningful nonetheless. You would hold that piece of him close to your heart, and keep it safe there for as long as you continued to live.

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[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 18 - The Threat)

4.8k / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Peace between the Clans after the wedding is short lived.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, petnames (pretty bird, baby, etc.), one (1) daddy, two (2) spanks, unprotected PiV, oral (m receiving, reference to f receiving), a teeny bit of ass play and a wee smidge of choking. Angst - it's back, baby!

A/N: This takes place after The Wedding (but it's not necessary to read). I need to write the next few chapters together, so it might take me a beat to post Ch. 19 but I will try my best 🥰 as always, thank you for reading!

Series Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Din had never experienced the old saying “the calm before the storm” before.  He had heard of it, of course, but in his experience, there was ever only the build up to the storm or the storm itself.

In retrospect, “the calm” was exactly what the last few weeks had been.

The weeks leading up to Cassandra and Rikard Pyke’s wedding had been tense.  Security concerns increased in light of the unrest that had been rising in intensity and frequency for the months prior, complicating already intricate and complex security logistics necessitated by the union itself.  It gnaws at Din to no end that he and Paz haven’t been able to identify the culprit orchestrating all the previously thought unrelated disturbances; he’s at least glad the theory that the incidents were random has been abandoned and that even Boba agreed there had to be a common thread between all the events. 

Happily, the wedding had gone off without any major incident; the happy couple had married and celebrated joyously with both Families.  No blood had been spilt, and one could even declare that the relationship between the Fetts and Pykes has never been better.  There had been that minor scuffle at the end of the evening; Din hated worrying you unnecessarily even more than he hated lying to you, so he had told you a half truth when he said it was just a few kids who drank too much.  It was a half truth in that only half of the drunk kids in question were wedding guests - the other two had been Hutt wedding crashers.  For whatever reason, two lower level Hutt foot soldiers had decided to check out the wedding venue after most of the guests had wound down their celebrations and a few of the younger Pyke cousins had taken offense.

It had been easy enough to break up and smooth over, sending the kids to their proverbial corners - that part he hadn’t downplayed.  And since then, it’s been… quiet.

No more skirmishes.  No vandalism.  No theft.  Nothing. 

It’s as if whoever was responsible went on vacation or decided that whatever they were trying to accomplish in the first place wasn’t worth it.

At first, it had been much too suspicious to be trusted.  The Mandos remaining on high alert even when nothing out of the ordinary was being reported.  Then slowly, things started going back to normal.  Late night patrols taper off and security surveillance whittle down to a minimum.  Jimmy returns to training with Karga full-time.  Din’s schedule regulates and to make up for lost time, he takes you out to dinner nearly every night, chipping away at the long accumulated list of restaurants you want to try.  Mayfeld goes back to doing whatever Mayfeld does.

It was the calm.

Din’s humming to himself as he folds towels - checking the clock, he’s glad to see he’s about half an hour or so away from Greef coming in for the late shift, at which time he can go back upstairs to spend the rest of his Saturday night with you.  The two of you had spent a lovely morning at the same farmers’ market he had taken you to on your second date, and much of the day had been spent recreating a similar afternoon – him working while periodically popping upstairs to visit you and Al, helping you with the lasagna.  The only notable difference was that instead of letting you nap, he had made you come on his tongue twice before heading back downstairs to oversee the lazy Saturday gym crowd.

Otherwise, history was repeating itself delightfully even now with Paz coming by after his workout to check in with Din.

“Hey brother,” Paz clasps his hand on Din’s shoulder before the two men embrace, “good day?”

“Yep,” nods Din, good naturedly, “you?”

Paz’s face slips into an unserious grimace, “Was going pretty good, but just got the call to check in with the boss, so like Rhianna says: work, work, work, work, work.  You wanna come with?”

Din shakes his head, “Nah, I’m retired again, remember?  Besides, I’ve got lasagna.”

“Ooo!  Lil’ Lady made lasagna?  Save me a slice, brother!  Wait… unless ‘lasagna’ is code for some weird sex thing?  Then please don’t think of me, thanks.”

Din whips a towel at Paz’s head as the latter heads out the gym, the back of his shoulders shaking with laughter.

---

Satisfied.  That’s the word Din thinks best describes how he feels in this very moment.  His stomach is full of wine and lasagna, and he currently has his delectable dessert straddling his lap with her tongue down his throat.  When you lift yourself up to press down on Din’s mouth with your plush lips, your core grinds a little on the top of his now soft again belly and you both let out a heady groan at the sensation.  Din suspects that after the bout with Rotta Hutt, you had made it your personal mission to reinstate his softer stomach, and he happily acquiesced - eating second helpings of all your delicious cooking that seemed to constantly fill your and his apartments with mouthwatering aromas.

Brushing your tongue over Din’s, your hands go to card his soft curls through your fingers when you feel his meaty hands slide down your sides until they come to a rest on your ass, cupping your cheeks and palming them lightly while you whimper into his mouth. 

“Feel good, pretty bird?”

“Mmmhhmmmm, feels so good, Din,” you murmur as you kiss across Din’s jaw and trail your lips down his neck, tongue darting out to lick his bobbing Adam’s apple.  You feel Din’s hands tighten and squeeze hard at the feeling, and it makes you giggle - you give your butt a little wiggle and dance around in his lap as a response.

Smack.

You yelp and then immediately moan from the spank Din administers to your behind.  Din chuckles throatily and lands another hard smack to the other cheek, watching your ass ripple as he growls in your ear, “Gonna be a good girl, baby?”

You pull back so Din can see the pouty, doe-eyed expression you’re giving him, “What do you mean, daddy?”

Din’s eyes darken, “Are you gonna be a good girl, or are you gonna be a br-”

Bzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzz.

Din’s phone buzzes with an incoming text.  Then another.  And another.  It continues to vibrate, even as you reach over to the coffee table to grab it for him.

Brow furrowed, Din looks at the notifications on his locked screen and sees texts from Paz, Mayfeld, Woves, Bo, Iggy with more coming in every few seconds from other Mandos.  Each text containing just one line:

This is the Way.

Din’s face hardens and his body tenses, he sits up straight and you have to lace your fingers around his neck so you don’t slide off his lap.  The words themselves are innocuous, chosen to sound authoritative and purposefully vague and mysterious; but the text protocol being executed is deliberate and meaningful, one that Din himself implemented years ago.  It was a code red and a check-in system rolled into one.  It meant he had to go.

He gives you with an apologetic look but he finds you already watching him with an expression full of softness and understanding, “You have to go?”

Nodding, Din closes his eyes and pulls you tight against his chest, tucking your head into your favourite nook under his chin before murmuring, “I have to go.”  You hug him back just as tightly and tell your man you love him.  Tipping your head back, you eagerly accept one last tender kiss before Din gently pulls you off his lap.

As Din sends off his own text (This is the Way.), you grab a jacket for him and see him to the door, eyes worried, “Be careful, Din.”

“Always, pretty bird.  I love you.”  And then he’s off - hurrying down the stairs, taking two at a time.

---

Entering inconspicuously through the back entrance of an office building that acted as a Fett safe house, Din greets the Mandos that beat him here in the open lounge area.  Some are nursing drinks, others seemingly just waiting around.  Everyone looks to be on high alert.  Still not knowing what the alert was for, Din doesn’t ask – he would rather get the debrief straight from Paz, but he doesn’t see the Fett head of security in the room.  Koska gives him a little nod when she spots him and tilts her head towards the boardroom, mouthing, “They’re waiting for you.” Who exactly they are, still unknown to Din even as he pushes open the thick oak door. 

Paz is inside, as are Bo and Brian.  There are no other Mandos.  Everyone is sitting around the long conference table except for Paz and Fennec, both of whom stand flanking Boba’s seat at the head of the long table.  Many of the chairs are already filled by Fett Family seniors and principals and in front of every seat, even the empty ones, is a brown manila envelope.  Din sees that those already sitting have opened theirs, but the contents are unknown to him – either stuffed back into their envelopes or placed face down on the table.  As he walks towards Paz, Din notices that all the envelopes have names written on them; the handwriting is unfamiliar, but he recognizes the names of some other clan members that haven’t arrived yet.  It’s not until he’s nearly at the end of the room that he looks at the envelope in front of the empty seat to Boba’s right and reads his own name.

Cocking an eyebrow at Paz, he’s mildly alarmed to see Paz’s expression.  Normally so impassive and stoic while conducting official security business, Paz looks… nervous.  Din looks quizzically at his envelope, then at Paz, Boba and Fennec; Boba gives a slight nod of his head and Din doesn’t even bother sitting down, just reaches over the chair to grab his envelope, ripping it open.

Din reaches in and pulls out a thick stack of photos.  He goes through them, faster and faster, the top photo being filed to the back so he can see what the next picture is, his actions becoming more frantic and hurried with each photo.

“What the fuck is this?!” he roars.

You.  Every picture is of you.  You stepping off the subway.  You eating a sandwich outside your office.  You having brunch with your friends.  You walking the dog.  You’re wearing so many different outfits in the photos, they must have been taken over several days.  Weeks even.  Din thinks he’s going to be sick - someone has been watching you for weeks.

Since no one has answered, Din thunders again, “What the fuck is this?!” Several of the people sitting, bristle.  Paz looks defeated.  The epiphany that what Paz had been nervous for was Din’s reaction hits suddenly, “Paz, did you know what was in this envelope?!”

Boba, ever calm, but radiating an undercurrent of fury, suggests, “Paz, why don’t you catch Din up in private?  Please rejoin us when you’re ready.”

Paz gestures to a side door and Din follows, still clutching his envelope and the pictures of you.  He waits for the door to the smaller, empty room to close behind him before he goes in on Paz, “Brother, what the hell is going on??”

Paz sighs, “First, I owe you an apology.  You’re right - I knew what was in the envelope.  Actually, I didn’t know, but I had a really good idea.  It didn’t give me any pleasure to see you ambushed like that, brother.”

Din nods, waiting for more.

“A box of envelopes was left outside Peli’s doorstep this morning with a note on top that just said ‘For Boba Fett’.  We checked her cameras and asked around, but there was nothing usable – whoever left the box knew where all the cameras were, where the blind spots are, and they dropped it off at 5 a.m. when there was no one around.”  Paz sighs heavily before continuing.

“Peli called it in and after the box and its contents were cleared, Boba went through it in the late afternoon – he himself got an enveloped filled with pictures of Poe, Lisa and their kids.  Everyone who received an envelope got called in – there are at least 25.  All the envelopes so far contain pictures of loved ones: spouses, partners, family, kids.  All the photos recent.  Bo and Brian’s envelopes contained pictures of their girlfriends.  That’s how I was fairly sure yours had the Lil’ Lady in it.”

Din wordlessly hands over the pictures of you and Paz takes the stack, going through it with a pained expression on his face, “Recent?”

Din nods, “Who the hell did this?  What do they want?  Was there anything else in the box?  What is the fucking point of these photos?!”  Din thinks his brain is going to explode.

Paz shakes his head, “We don’t know.  That’s what we have to find out.”

“But it’s a threat.”

“Yeah.  It feels like a threat.”

Din presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.  His heart and head are pounding, a million thoughts racing through his mind.  Are you safe right now?  He shouldn’t have left you.  No, you’re at Mando’s – there’s nowhere safer.  Had you noticed anyone following you these last couple of weeks?  No, you would have told him.  That means whoever did this was a professional.  And they must have a team, if they were able to take pictures of so many targets over the past few weeks.  Targets.  Fuck.  You were a target.  A voice that Din hasn’t heard in months practically screams in his head: Because of you!! 

His rage and fear suddenly trampled by a new emotion: guilt. 

Beaten, Din looks up at Paz, his voice breaking, “This is why.  This is why… she shouldn’t be with me.  This is what I was always afraid of.  That being with me would put her in danger.  That I would put her in danger.  She’s being threatened because of me.”

Din hangs his head, that old insecurity over bringing you into his life, or rather his life into yours, resurfacing after all these months - ready to tear down the life that he and you had started building together.  How could he have done this to you?  You don’t deserve it.

Paz lays a firm and what he hopes is a reassuring hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “We’ll get who ever did this.  And we’ll keep her safe.  We’ll keep them all safe.”

Din nods, swallowing hard, but unable to peel his thoughts away from images of you.  You in the pictures.  You when he left you tonight.  You smiling at him.  Trusting him.  And then before he could stop it from creeping into his mind, a terrifying vision of you, limp in his arms, hurt.  He closes his eyes and wills himself to breathe, “She has to be safe.”

He follows Paz back into the main boardroom - ready to formulate a plan, to figure out the next steps, to do whatever it takes to bring down whoever was responsible for this transgression against the Family.  Din forces his face to wear the steely visage familiar to those in the room who know him as Boba Fett’s most fearsome enforcer, doing his best to ignore that nagging voice in his head that periodically interjects, “You know what you have to do.”

---

Something has happened tonight.  You can tell.  When you hear Din’s footsteps trudging up the stairs, it’s almost 11 p.m.  He had texted you earlier letting you know he was going to be late, but implored you to save taking Al back until he came home.  You didn’t know about the way his chest tightened when you wrote back to tell him you and Al had gone out and come back already.  As Din gets closer to the top floor, you think you can hear a weariness in those steps, as if he’s shouldering an additional weight.  Meeting him at the door, your heart cracks when you see the furrow of Din’s brow and the exhaustion in his eyes.  Something has happened tonight.

Wordlessly taking Din’s things from him and guiding him to the couch, you straddle Din’s lap and lightly trace his face with your fingers, as if trying to wipe away his worry.  His eyes are closed, his breathing even, but barely controlled.  On more than one occasion, Din has marveled at your talent for being able to soothe and calm him, often with a single touch.  But not tonight.  Tonight, no matter how much you may try, his muscles will not relax, his fists will not unclench, and the tension he carries in his shoulders will not dissipate.

You curl yourself against his hard chest, resting your head on his tightened shoulder and whisper, “Din?  Do you need to use me?  Work out some of this stress?”  Taking his clenched fist, you gently pry open his hand and lay it flat against your own chest, holding it close to your heart.

Din breathes out shakily and opens his eyes to see you looking up at him, wide-eyed with love and concern.   Fuck.  He loves you so much.  And he needs you.  You always know what he needs. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t get the image of the you in those pictures out of his mind – so innocent and unassuming; the idea that someone was looking that same you but with the intention of scaring or hurting you has Din wound up so tight, he’s afraid he might snap at any minute.  Regretfully, he chokes out, “Can’t, pretty bird.  Not this time.  This time… the way I’m feeling right now... I- I might hurt you.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You can see how hard Din’s struggling and you want to cry for him.  Cupping his rough, tired face in your dainty hands, you kiss him softly and nod, not wanting to add to his burden.

“I think I need to go work it out in the gym, baby.  Take it out on some bags.  Then maybe catch-up on some work.  I’m still behind on paperwork for the gym because of the other stuff that was going on before,” Din sighs.

“If you want, I can take on some of the admin, like tax forms and stuff.  You know I’m good at that,” you offer, wanting to be at least some help.

Against all odds, Din smiles.  How do you do that? “That would be wonderful, sweetheart.  Thank you.”

You relax into his chest, but when Din’s hold on your waist remains tight and his breathing stays sharp, you climb off his lap and prod him gently, “Don’t be too long, baby,” letting your hand linger on his cheek for a moment longer before going to get ready for bed.

---

When you wake in the middle of the night, it’s just past 1:30 a.m. and you’re alone in bed.  Sitting up, you listen for Din but the apartment is silent except for Al’s soft snores.  Where’s Din?  You throw on a long cardigan over your lace trimmed sleep set and grab your keys, padding downstairs.  Opening the door to Mando’s second-floor landing, you hear the thump thump thump of gloves hitting a bag.  Quietly, you walk across the walkway and down the opposing side stairs, coming upon where Din’s working a hanging punching bag.  His shoulders are up, his back muscles tense and glistening with sweat; his gloved fists flying at the bag in consistent intervals, over and over and over, with a force that sends the bag nearly swinging each time.

You don’t know how long Din’s been at this, but judging from his laboured breathing and the beads of perspiration that have rolled down his back, dampening the waistband of his sweatpants, you’re guessing it’s a while.  You can feel his exhaustion rolling off his body in waves from where you stand.  Din’s so hyper focused, you don’t think he’ll even hear you if you call his name, and for a moment, you’re not sure how you’ll get his attention without needlessly startling him; but Din solves the problem for you when you see him pause in his attack, holding the bag still with his gloves and resting this forehead against the leather, breathing tired and shallow.

“Din?” you call out delicately, you’re close enough to him now that you can see the fatigue that lines his face.  It takes you a moment to put a name to the look he gives you, but when you do, your heart nearly shatters.  It’s defeat.  Din’s looking at you, but his eyes are far away, downcast and weary.  His frame, held so tight and tense, droops and deflates as he takes in your figure walking gingerly towards him, as if all the agitation and aggression that he’s been trying to work out over the past few hours simply floats out of his body, along with all his power and determination.  Your big strong man is broken and you don’t know why.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you exhale with relief when you feel Din lean into your soft touch, eyes closing and face somewhat relaxing; he’s still here, your Din.  Silently, you take his gloved hand with your free one and lead him to the boxing ring.  Using the little stairs tucked into front right corner, you walk up to the raised platform and duck under the ropes to stand in the ring, holding your hand out to Din, beckoning him to join you.  As if in a trance, Din heeds your unspoken request; removing his gloves before meeting you in the middle of the ring, still looking at you with an expression that further breaks your heart – one of failure, resignation.  Holding his face in your hands, you bring it down to yours and press your lips to Din’s – tenderly, warily, so not to spook him.  When Din’s eyes close and you feel him melt against your mouth, you trail your lips to the other parts of him that need your attention. 

Din keeps his eyes closed and uses his remaining energy to mentally track the path of kisses that you lay across his jaw and down his throat.  You dot kisses along his collar bones and over the expanse of his wide chest; flitting out your tongue to taste the saltiness of the sweat that still clings to his hard pecs and his solid midsection.  You squeeze each arm and massage gentle circles over his muscles with your skilled fingers, working down from his flexed biceps to the raised veins of his forearms and ending at his still wrapped hands that you raise to your lips, delicately nipping at his exposed fingertips.  Din revels in your soft fairy-like touch and the heaven of your soft lips against his rough skin.

He opens his eyes only when he feels you slide his sweatpants down past his hips, eyes coming into focus to you see you on your knees before him, cardigan shrugged off to reveal barely there sleepwear that matches the sultry gaze that peers up at him.  Wordlessly, you take him in your mouth.

Hearing Din hiss above you, you work his length gently in your soft mouth, feeling him harden under the efforts of your lips and tongue.  When you feel both his hands come to a gentle resting grip in your hair, you flash a doe-eyed look at him, trying to gauge from his expression what he needs.  What you find is Din, eyes closed and mouth slack – tension and pressure finally evaporated from his body, his face burden free; you hum in pride and vow to suck, lick and tease every last remaining drop of agitation from him.  Rhythmically bobbing your head over Din’s cock, you let him hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you gently fondle his balls with your small hands until you feel them tighten and you hear Din’s heaving breaths above you.  Pulling off of his perfect dick, you see a flash of surprise in Din’s eyes as they snap open; you make sure he’s watching as you dip your hand down your sleep shorts and start to rub your clit through your already drenched panties.

When you see a dark hunger replace the look of surprise on Din’s face, you use your free hand to pull on his wrist so he’ll join you down on the mat.  Mouth latching to yours open mouthed, needy, violent, Din allows you to maneuver his strong frame easily so that he lays beneath you; you shimmy out of your shorts and panties before straddling him, hovering over his already weeping cock.  Normally both so vocal during sex, no words are exchanged between you and Din tonight.  Every question and want expressed only through looks and touch - communicating heart to heart, mind to mind.  When Din removes your top, you realize it’s the first time he’s really touching your body since you came downstairs - his touch is desperate, gripping, tortured.  You let him grab and grope your breasts, waist, stomach, arms, hips and thighs with a fervent need, as if he needs to prove, convince himself that you’re all there. 

Notching him at your entrance, you feel Din’s hand snake up the valley of your breasts and come to a rest around your neck.  Lolling your head back to give him more access, you follow the direction of his firm grip and sink down on Din’s dick; your movements guided by the pressure that Din puts on your neck, letting him pull you down until you’re fully sheathed on his throbbing cock.  Keeping pace with the flex of Din’s fingers on your throat, you bounce – ignoring the sting of pain from having taken him with no prep; no matter – your overstretch walls soon flooded with arousal as your movements quicken and your breaths sharpen, dizzy from your airway being constricted.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you ride Din with abandon – there's no dirty talk, praise or degradation tonight, the only sounds echoing off the walls of the empty gym are the urgent slapping of skin on skin and Din’s loud animalistic moans and grunts.  For Din, this is primal, physical, making sure you’re real and that he can touch you, hold you – you’re here, within his grasp.  Safe.

Keeping one hand on your neck, as if tethering you to him via your airway, your lifeline, Din is hypnotized by the sight of you on top of him – pretty tits bouncing, pert and perky.  You’re beautiful.  Perfect.  That you give yourself over to him so readily when you already give him so much fills him to the brim with emotion: you trust him with your heart, your body, your life.  He inches a finger towards the tight ring of your ass, pressing in past the initial resistance and feels your pussy flutter around his cock once he slips in.  Always so willing to take.  Because you trust him.  Love him.

Fuck, he loves you more.

Crying out as you come, you clench down hard on Din’s cock but don’t stop moving, determined to fuck yourself through it; Din follows shortly after, spilling himself to the look of euphoria on your face.

No words are exchanged as you gather your things and lead Din upstairs after turning off the lights in the gym.  And still none when you guide him into the hot shower, washing his tired body under the spray of the water steaming up the bathroom.  Din is barely awake – eyes shut as he lets you wash his hair, only partially registering the soft touch of your fingers against his scalp.  Melting into your sweet kisses to his lips, chest and back, he slips further towards dreamland.

Silent even as you dry him and dress him in a pair of clean pajamas, Din, exhausted from the physical exertion of trying to punch out his frustrations and the mental load of what he learned today, completely dissociates from everything except the warmth of your presence.

Only once he’s laid down on his side of his bed, head already sinking into his pillow and lips tingling from your goodnight kiss does Din speak, “I love you so much, pretty bird.  How will I ever live without you?”

All you can do is smile when you see your hulk of a man finally relaxed enough to drift off towards sleep.  You’re so relieved to have managed to put him to bed that you don’t notice he isn’t utilizing the hypothetical.

Not ‘How would I ever live without you?’ but will.

[vodika-vibes]

So I had an amusing thought, and I'm going to share it.

Several years after the Clone Wars End, while Boba is starting to make a name for himself as a Bounty Hunter, he comes to realize that there are, about, a dozen "Boba Fetts" running around the galaxy. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the other Bobas are, in fact, clones. (Are they his brothers? Yes? No? Not even Boba knows the answer to this, but calling them brothers might be easier than calling them "men who have the same face as me".) In the long run, Boba doesn't care, so long as they don't ruin his reputation. (Boba becomes known for being able to commit to two bounties on opposite ends of the galaxy at the same time, and when the actual Boba Fett is questions about it he just shrugs and says something vague before he wanders off). And then he just...doesn't think about it. Like. Ever. And then he becomes the Daimyo of Tatooine, and he's definitely not Bounty Hunting anymore, except "Boba Fett" is definitely still out there collecting bounties. Anyway, one day Din goes to Raxus or some other planet that is definitely not Tatooine, and runs into Boba Fett. His armor's a little different, the green is a couple of shades lighter, and Din is pretty sure that Boba had a mythosaur painted on his armor and not some kind of teardrop, but whatever. Boba is Boba. So Din walks over to him, "Boba, I'm surprised to see you so far from Tatooine." 'Boba' stares at him, "Oh. I wanted a change of scenery." "Makes sense. Though, I'm guessing you left Fennec in charge." "...naturally." Din nods, "I've been meaning to ask, are you ever going to switch out Jabba's throne for something more your size?" 'Boba' is silent for a moment, and then he rips off his helmet, revealing a man with long dark hair and a massive upside down delta tattooed on his face, "What the actual kriff are you talking about?!" Din stares at him, "Who the kriff are you?" "I'm one of, like, 2 dozen Boba Fetts running around, who the kriff are you!?" Later a traumatized Din, who had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting a quarter of the two dozen Boba Fetts who are still bounty hunting (Cody, Fox, Dogma, Sinker, Crys, and Hound), calls the actual Boba and asks if he's really him or if he's just someone pretending to be Boba Fett.

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday, 11/01: Fanfiction

Hello again, everyone…and welcome to another installment of Fandom Friday, the two-post series where I go off to find new and interesting fanworks that might need a bit more visibility.

Before we get started...let me just say that the next election in my country happens next week and that there's probably going to be a bit of political fallout no matter what the results are, so. If I don't come online as much and/or I miss an update or two, you'll all know my reason ahead of time.

Also, in between that and the imminent Halloween rush yesterday, I pretty much slapped this all together at almost the last minute, so please pardon me if it's not as organized or eye-catching as my usual arrangements might be. I can only hope the next time will be better, never mind better thought out. ^^;

Anyways, before I ramble on too much, here are my picks of the week.

THE ACOLYTE

The Acolyte Fanfiction--By @fandomsandflyingstingrays:

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @bunny7567:

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @jetii:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @vodika-vibes:

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @valkyrieromanoff:

ANDOR

Andor Fanfiction--By @the-kittylorian-writes:

THE MANDALORIAN

The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @orcasoul:

THE BOOK OF BOBA FETT

The Book of Boba Fett Fanfiction--By @little-stellabellum-blog:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every two weeks, highlight those writers who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the writers a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget…thank you to my friends, thank you to this fandom, and if it's a little longer between updates, please stay safe out there.

No Pressure Tags: @melymigo @algo-o-nada @theosb0rnway @everybirdfellsilent @skellymom

@leos-multifandom-corner @maggie-dylan @leenabb104104 @gun-roswell @tazmbc1

@bluedeedeedoop @its-time-to-rise-above @tlmtwelve @snoowply and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new SW fanfiction.