#din x boba x omera

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din introduces someone new to Ann

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I apologize for the late posting, last night I was so super exhausted I couldn't stay away and then today I was feeling so off. I think it was the weather, and although it was quite a migraine, it felt like the beginnings of one, so I slept most of the day.

Anyway, this is the last chapter for The Crestworld Part.

This series will be going on a mini hiatus while I work on content. So please bear with.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Brief anxiety, communication (so lovely), mutual understanding, flirting, intimidation, fluff, jealousy, annoyance, slight anger. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,306 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ann sat there blinking as she looked at Din, “Don’t look so shocked, you should’ve known I would’ve figured it out eventually, after all I’m sure Cobb couldn’t help himself, and told you I used to work for the army.” She simply nodded in the affirmative, “So let’s just say it’s not my first rodeo dealing with pseudonyms. My life was very different before Grogu came into it. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there.”

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, the fact he knew my name wasn’t my real name, the fact he didn’t kick me out, demanding to know more, or even asking whether or not he and Grogu were in danger.

I took in a shaky breath and nodded, “Thank you for understanding.” My hands felt heavy and numb, I wanted him to know I would never endanger either him or Grogu, I’d die before that happened. I couldn’t with anymore blood on my hands, “Din, please know I’ll never put your family in danger. If … at any point I think you or Grogu will be in danger, I’ll leave. I’ll protect both of you.”

Din tilted his head and let out a sigh, squeezing her shoulder, “Listen, we’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. However, I appreciate you answering, even when you didn’t have to; and don’t worry about protecting us. I’m sure I can protect all three of us if the time comes.”

“I won’t put you in that situation, Din. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did. Anyways, it’s not like I answered a whole lot, but it only seemed fair, since you did open up about Camilla.”

“One hand washes the other, right?” He smirked, before turning his gaze towards Boba’s house, he noticed Boba was standing in the doorway of his home, “Come on, let’s have you meet one of the grumpiest ranchers around.”

I looked from Din to the rather handsome older man standing in his doorway, “Grumpier than you?”

“More or less.” Din chuckled as he stepped out of the truck, keeping an eye on Ann as she stepped out of the truck. He had a newfound respect for the woman who fought to get away from her bad situation, trying to find normalcy by escaping to the backwoods of Aq Vetina. 

“Boba” he nodded towards the older man as he approached, Ann stood beside him. He kept an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable, if there was one man he could trust Ann with, it was Boba. “This is Ann, my new farmhand. Ann, Boba Fett, Daimyo of Tatooine.” 

Boba walked slowly down the stairs to meet them. His steps were heavy, the clink of his spurs echoing with each step, he wore all black as he stood before them. Even though Boba was six feet tall, his presence made him seem like a towering giant.  His piercing eyes were made all the more intimidating as the brim of his cowboy hat dropped a shadow over his face. 

“Tatooine?” I whispered.

“His ranch” Din motioned with his head over his shoulder.

“Ahhh … Daimyo?”

“Means Great Lord”

“Does that mean I have to bow?”

“You could” Boba answered as a smile rested on his lips, disarming those piercing eyes that saw more than he would ever reveal, “however, I would never expect such a beautiful woman such as yourself, to bow for me.” He offered his hand, “You can just call me Boba, mesh’la.” He gently took her hand, winking before he bowed, bringing his lips to her skin, placing the softest and gentlest kiss on her knuckles. 

“Thank you” I smiled as I felt my face heat up from the attention, I cleared my throat as I gently pulled my hand away, despite how I enjoyed his warm calloused hands “may I ask, why Daimyo?”

“You can thank Fennec and this one here” Boba motioned towards Din, “for that, it started off as a joke one night, and soon became my title. Djarin, what can I do for you?”

“I came to pick up my payment from helping you, remember”

“How could I forget?” Boba smirked and motioned for the two to follow him.

As we walked through Boba’s ranch, I noticed a few things, first his place was a lot bigger than Din’s. Second, there were at least twelve different farmhands working at different tasks. I could see from just the quick glances I took, I tried to see the differences between the two ranches when a small bark pulled my attention. Inside one of the stalls in the barn were tiny beautiful Strill pups, “Oh my goodness, they are so sweet” I kneeled down to look at their sleeping forms. There were about seven pups, four had grey-ish coats, and the other three had gold-ish coats, with hints of white breaking through. “Where are their parents?”

“Their mom is currently wandering the perimeter of the ranch, while the father is probably off in the woods somewhere looking after its own litter.”

I turned to look at Boba who ended up kneeling beside me, “Woods? Own litter?”

“Strills are known to have hermaphroditic reproduction, they can equally sire and bear offspring with a second strill” Din answered.

“For a while,” Boba beamed like a proud father, “I noticed she’d been taking off at night, always returning home with no issues, but this time when she came back she was pregnant. Guess she just wanted to see the sights of what the world had to offer” Boba chuckled, “sort of like a wayward child, coming back to ask for dad’s help when they get knocked up.” His eyes held a tremendous amount of kindness and concern as he looked upon the pups, “Which ones did you want to take with you, Djarin?”

“You’ve seen them and gotten to know them more than I have, who do you recommend?”

Boba stood opening the fence, motioning for me to follow him, as we stepped in the pups stirred and began to move about. Watching them as they unfolded their six legs, their tiny noses appearing, each of them had the most incredibly happy eyes I’ve ever seen on an animal. Most shuffled around Boba’s feet, but two in particular, came and plopped themselves at my feet, sitting watching me. One was grey-ish with white and tiny flecks of gold hair throughout, the other was gold-ish with flecks of grey.

“It appears the two have decided for us,” he chuckled, “Annie, Djarin, meet your two new guard dogs, Dral and Mir.” Boba’s hand instinctively rested against Ann’s lower back, he leaned in, whispering in her ear as a smile graced his lips, “Clearly they have great taste, sitting at the feet of one of the most beautiful women around.”

Somehow those words coming from Boba’s lips didn’t feel cringy or overstepping, maybe it was his charming personality, or his brilliantly wonderful smile, but either way, it made my face feel heated, I couldn’t help the coquettish smile that appeared on my lips, “You’re quite the charmer, someone mentioned you were one of the grumpiest ranchers around, but truthfully after meeting you, I think they were just jealous of how charming you really are.”

“Don’t worry, little one,” he shifted his hand away from her back and tilted her head a little to look into her eyes, “I’m like fine wine, the longer you get to know me the better I get.”

Din’s eyes locked with the man who was a few years older than him, as Boba gave him a wink. For some reason it made him angry watching the interaction between Ann and Boba, he felt his body tense, his jaw clench, and even his hands tightened into a fist at Boba’s flirting. 

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Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal @sprout-fics @liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

[beatthisbi]

Every Din Djarin ship is perfect because he deserves to get railed and coparent with someone and I don’t care who

[leofrith]

i am late but... din djarin for character asks? (i just want to know what fan takes are the worst asjksjks)

oh GODDDDDDDD never in my life have i wanted a character i love to get killed off so badly. jesus christ 💔

a song that reminds me of them: lonely feelings by love supreme

what they smell like: sweat and gunpowder. or whatever the star wars blaster equivalent of gunpowder is lmao

an otp: luke and omera!!! also boba is neat

a notp: i never want to see mayfeld on my screen ever again, love and light. also i've already talked about it but bo-katan could have been good if it had been executed with the bare minimum amount of care. but it wasn't. so when it inevitably happens in the finale this week i will not be coping.

favorite platonic/familial relationships: grogurt!!!! also the armorer and big brother paz. rip king gone too soon. also the din and ahsoka friendship that exists in my head. ❤️

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: girl....... so many. the way a ton of people in this fandom reduce his character to some vaguely sexist, hypermasculine badass who is aggressive all the time for no reason is so irritating. the sheer amount of fics that portray him as some kind of daddy dom or spicy latin lover stereotype is gross and it makes me actually insane. at worst, it's just fucking racist and at best, it's an extremely reductive way of looking at an otherwise very interesting character. there is a truly staggering amount of fic that is obvious, thinly-veiled p*dro pascal rpf that is only using the vague idea of din's character as proof that it's not actually rpf. and the fact that there is no way to reliably filter any of it because people refuse to tag their shit accordingly just makes it worse. this certainly isn't to say that this is an issue confined solely to x reader spaces. i know for a fact that a ton of dinluke writers do this too, which is why i rarely interact with the fandom anymore. also, the lack of nuance when people talk about din's faith is truly awe inspiring. people will see din's clan say "this is the way" and religiously cover their faces and will call it cult behaviour without a hint of critical thought. ah yes, cults, which are famous for letting their members come and go as they please and also teaching their members to be self sufficient. those cults. sure. anyway... i could go on for ages. but i'll finish this off with the fact that yesterday i saw someone say that din in a modern au would be a casually homophobic catholic, which aged me 10 years. do not watch star wars. never ever watch star wars.

the position they sleep in: canonically sleeps in a tiny ball in full armour to fit into his tiny bed on the razor crest (rip razor crest), in the pilot's seat with his arms crossed like a dad falling asleep in his recliner after dinner, or on his back like this:🧍‍♂️ that man has back problems i know he does.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in: i think that din and eivor would get along very well if they existed in the same universe. something about the shared sense of honour and their inability to pass by random people in need. but din as an assassin could also be very fun. me putting assassin's creed characters in star wars aus 🤝 me putting star wars characters in assassin's creed aus. i love bad media <3

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: he only has one!!! actually that's a lie, there was the stormtrooper disguise on morak (episode of all time) and the two iterations of his armor. i'm gonna go with his beskar armour but specifically when he has his helmet off while saying goodbye to grogu in the s2 finale. we could have had at least half a season of him looking like this while separated from his son. pathetic wet cat looking man. look at what they took from us.

send me a character and i will answer these questions!

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

@gdcee this was kind of your fault in a way, so have a tag.

@new-anon and @bureau-pinery this seems like something y’all’d be interesting considering your twitters >.>

Take, O Take Those Lips Away

I was originally just going to do some sketches of these three (and I did) but then I thought about that 12th Night Anne Hathaway photo so uh.

For a not long time, Omera was holding a blaster pointed at the viewer, but I needed to connect her and Boba more, so uh. Have a terrible hand clasp (making the arms make sense was very hard and I’m still not happy with them, ok)

First time drawing Pedro Pascal (I nearly had Boba and Din in helmets Keldabe’ing instead of Omera and Din kissing but like. Omera deserves it.)

I figure Omera and Boba teamed up for this to happen? IDK, someone please write it, I’d do it but I have no timeeeee.

[spaceasianmillennial]

The suitors of Din Djarin

Boba Fett: So, how’s your dating life?

Din Djarin: Weeeeeell, there’s was this lovely woman, Omera. Great woman, great mother to a kid. She asked me to stay. I couldn’t, but I think of her often.

Boba Fett: What about Cobb Vanth?

Din Djarin: Why him?

Boba Fett: You made out with him with your helmet on, and him wearing my helmet. Seriously, when I put my helmet back on I could smell the man on it and smelt that you kissed him in it. I have no grudge. It’s just that I’ve seen the man and I don’t blame you. So, what about him?

Din Djarin: He’s handsome. But there’s someone I rather helmet-kiss. And I have already.

Boba Fett: Who?

Din Djarin: There’s... Paz Vizsla. My ex-boyfriend. We fight, physically and verbally. We’re a perfect Mandalorian match. He wanted marriage. He wanted to see my face. But I wasn’t ready for that commitment. But the helmet making-out was good. Even when we broke up, we sparred like we did. But then---

Boba Fett: Oh, someone else.

Din Djarin: That Jedi Skywalker. He gave me his number. I mean, it was likely in case Grogu changed his mind and I might need to pick him up but I noticed he put XOXOXOX “You Have a Handsome Face” and realized he was hitting on me. It took me months to realize what that meant. 

Boba Fett: Look, I respect who you admire, but Jedi Skywalker is a rancor killer. He might be a good Jedi teacher to you kid, but he’s a rancor killer. I was gonna suggest you marry Cobb Vanth because you kissed him, but you should really marry Paz Vizsla if he’ll take you back. You two are compatible, both Mandalorian, both devout.

Din Djarin: What?

Boba Fett: I’m just saying, physical intimacy without marriage is immoral.

---

LATER

*Fennec answers a knock on Jabba’s Palace* 

Fennec: Do you have an appointment?

Paz Vizsla: DIN DJARIN WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Fennec: What the wha?

Din Djarin: What’s my ex-boyfriend doing here?

Boba Fett: Oh, I tracked him down. Told him about you. And it turns out, according to your Way, if he marries you, that means you’re be married back into your clan and forgiven. Trust me, I did consult your Armorer.

Din Djarin: YOU DID WHAT?

Boba Fett: Hey, I respect you and it changes nothing about how I feel about you. But I feel better if I work with someone who would legitimize their pre-martial intimacy.

Din Djarin: I’M NOT READY FOR COMMITMENT.

Boba Fett: C’mon, I’ll can officiate the wedding. Just breathe. He’s your true love. Just breathe.

---

Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla at the altar.

Boba Fett: Dearly beloved, deadly beloved, we’re all gathered here... If anyone objects to the union between these two Mandos- speak now or forever hold--

Cobb Vanth: (Breaking in and holding flowers) MANDO! 

Boba Fett: Does anyone else object--

Mayfield: (Charging in and holding flowers) BROWN EYES, I TRACKED YOU DOWN. EVER SINCE I SAW YOUR BROWN EYES-

Din Djarin: Fett, they’re ruining our special day. Do something!

Boba Fett: Are you kidding? Let’s see how far this goes. You’re delicious!

Paz Vizsla: Dear, I’m actually curious to see how long this plays out.

Luke Skywalker: (Coming in with his cloak and hood all mysterious with Grogu slung around his chest) Din Djarin, I should have asked you sooner, will you raise this youngling with me? With your healthy parenting skills and my Jedi training, Grogu will grow up into a healthy adult and have access to both of his heritage.

Paz Vizsla: Oh man, you got great options here. I don’t wanna stand in the way of your best one.

Omera: (Holding flowers) I was gonna say something but now I’m gonna sit this one out.

[saltsprite]

👀

this one’s gonna be hard to get right, but if I pull it off it’ll be SO GOOD

“How do you love him?” Boba asks.

“Selfishly.”

“And her?”

“Respectfully.” The curve of Cobb’s mouth twists. “And from a distance.”

It’s more honest of an answer than Boba expected. To this day, no one loves Omera like he does. He sits a little straighter, holds his chin a little higher, preening inwardly.

“And I suppose, in a way,” Cobb says, eyes twinkling like spent bullet casings cascading to the ground, listing ever closer, “I love you somewhere in the middle, for carrying him long enough he made it to me.”

[the-kittylorian-writes]

"The Routine"

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Din Djarin x Omera

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:

Every morning, on the clock, Omera wakes up to make breakfast for the Mandalorian and his little green child. 

(Written for Mandomera Week 2022, first prompt: “Memory”)

The Routine

It was certainly like clockwork.

Every morning for the past three months, Omera had woken up at nearly the exact same time, when the sun rays would hit the exact same spot on the thatched walls from her hut’s half-open window. 

Under the dawn’s mild and glimmering light, Omera would make the bed, freshen up, go to the kitchens and make breakfast not only for herself and Winta, but for her two other guests (probably still snug in the barn, but she knew they would be up early as well). A small, content smile played on Omera’s lips as she diligently laid out her cooking, hummed as the kettle whistled. There was a brightness in her spirit that hadn’t been there for a long time. 

She hummed some more, a little off-key, exhilarated as she arranged the steaming breakfast on the tray. It was almost muscle memory, like the ones she kept for survival, like when she first held the blaster rifle as she had been trained all those years ago, and she hadn’t forgotten.

This was a new kind of muscle memory, a new kind of path her steps took every morning, every single day, for three months.

Omera was about done with a dash of decorative garnish—would they like a little foxglove and a little thyme? A little bouquet of forget-me-nots? The green child seemed to love all those little purple flowers. When his small, green nose touched the blooms, he giggled and he sneezed.

The silver warrior would look at his son, and Omera could only pretend that she saw his own fond smile underneath the heaviness of his visor.

Her smile grew wider.

Omera continued to hum her placid song as she lifted the tray skillfully, effortlessly, as she had done so for seemingly countless days. Perfectly balanced, she strode down the stairs of her hut and into a clearing.

She was greeted with a series of “good mornings” and “lovely day!” as she made her way to the barn. She had steady and well-paced steps—and that was why she grew puzzled, indeed, when the early risers of the village whom she exchanged the usual pleasantries with were staring at her strangely, and some with visible amusement. Caben and Stoke, on the other hand, had their mouths agape as she passed them by. 

“Good morning, Caben! Hello, Stoke!” she called happily, her tone belying her slight confusion.

“Uh, Omera…” Stoke began, but Caben struck him lightly on the shoulder and they both grinned innocently, and went on their merry way to the ponds.

What’s gotten into everyone? Omera wondered, suddenly doubtful—

And when she arrived at the barn, she froze on her tracks.

“Oh…”

She had never felt so embarrassed in her life… thus far. The heat crept to her face and a wash of melancholy hit her.

So that was probably what everyone had been trying to remind her about, but had been too nice to break the enchantment which was palpable in her gaze, in her gait, in the way she carried herself.

The barn was tidied up and empty, and there were no longer any traces of their Mandalorian guardian and his little boy. 

They had already left. They’ve been gone since yesterday. 

The village had even showered them with a warm send-off. How could she have completely forgotten?

Omera wondered how foolish she looked, just standing at the foot of the platform of the barn, staring at it as if she beheld it for the first time. 

She was holding the tray of food proudly, ready to advance, to call out her usual knock knock by the threshold in permission to enter the Mandalorian’s territory. The man valued his privacy to the utmost.

But he wasn’t there. The baby wasn’t there—she could see the empty cradle from where she stood.

Stupid girl, she chastised herself. A great weight had tugged at her heart. She knew it was silly of her to feel tears forming in her eyes, but she’d taken a huge, deep breath, and the weight abated a little. The tears refuse to fall.

A full day had not even passed, and she’s already missing them so terribly.

“Mama?”

Omera was just about ready to turn heel and return to the homestead, a little angry with herself—she was half-thinking of just tossing the entire tray on the little kitchen sink, and she would find time for herself there, alone for hours, wondering how everything had suddenly changed in her world to a normalcy that refused to settle within her.

Her heart glowed for a beat and then it fell. 

She found the source of the voice to be Winta, of course; she saw her little girl already inside the hut so that her small face peeked out timidly, sadly.

“Winta…” Omera softly called out. “Winta, get down from there, please. They’re… they’re not…”

She couldn’t finish. Her voice shook and for sure, Winta would pick it up.

“I know, Mama,” Winta replied with equal dolefulness. Omera flinched. Her daughter sounded so… lost. “I forgot that they’re not here anymore. I was going to give baby a kiss on the forehead before school. I always do that.”

Omera’s throat tightened. “And… and the Mandalorian had let you?”

Winta gingerly stepped out of the barn’s shadows and into the morning dew. The little girl gave her a barely perceptible nod.

“Yep. He’d said it was okay. He’d told me the baby liked it. I think so, too!”

Omera noted the brief burst of gladness in Winta’s voice. Omera sighed; she smiled. 

“That’s very nice, sweetheart.”

Winta now was fully out of the hut and she was carefully making her way down the steps. There was a knowing look in the child’s eyes, and Omera wasn’t sure whether to meet her daughter’s gaze or to avoid it…

“You forgot that they’re not here anymore, too, haven’t you, Mama?”

Omera tempered a scoff, but it was useless. They’ve both caught each other red-handed. They would need to come into terms with the reality that their routine could no longer be.

The noble warrior and his precious child had left, now gone to follow their own path—for the father to protect the son, and the son to bring joy to his father’s heart.

Omera did find some consolation in the fact that Cara Dune had decided to linger a bit more, but after months in their village, the soldier within Cara had grown restless. She was, perhaps, miles away, back in the common house enjoying the rest of her early retirement.

However, a greater void was left deep within Omera’s heart caused by the absence of father and son.

“I miss them, Mama,” Winta openly expressed the sentiment stirring in both their souls. “I wish… I wish they didn’t have to leave.”

Omera couldn’t bear it, to see her own sweet child carry the burden of another loss. Winta may not have remembered her birth father all too well, but she had been very lucid when the Mandalorian was around. Omera’s heart had skipped a beat when she saw her daughter perpetually hovering over the Mandalorian and the baby whenever the man allowed her to. The warrior was a very patient, and an even very timid man, stoic but with a strange, beautiful softness Omera couldn’t put her finger on.

Winta stayed on the foot of the step. The girl looked back wistfully, and Omera was surprised to see tears roll down Winta’s cheeks. 

Omera felt a plan brewing. She puffed her chest in resolution.

“My darling,” Omera said endearingly with a bit of intrigue. “I’ll tell you what: Since school doesn’t start in an hour, why don’t we both stay in the barn awhile?” She held up the tray of deliciously smelling food, to hopefully tantalize Winta, even when Winta had her own usual breakfast, one unlike a grown man’s and a baby’s. 

Winta sniffed messily; she ran a hand over her face, but to Omera’s delight, she saw it—there, in Winta’s eyes, was a spark of happiness. 

“We can pretend that they’re still there!” Winta offered, figuring out her mother’s plan. She recoiled a little, hesitant. “I know it sounds silly, pretending and all that…”

Omera laughed her musical laugh. “Well, only for now. Maybe for a few days, just to wean ourselves away from… from their presence. We can’t just suddenly go Cold Grinjer, can we?”

Winta’s smile had grown enough for her dimples to show. “No… going Cold Grinjer is a bad idea, Mama!”

****

And so it was for the days that followed—Omera waking up on the clock, the rhythms of her hands and her feet and her entire body flowing to the beat of her routine, as if the Mandalorian and the child were still there. 

Sometimes, she would pray for their safety. Sometimes, she would sing—and her cheeks were on fire—as if she sang to him. Sometimes, she would be silent altogether; eyes closed in the middle of the task, she would imagine the sound of the Mandalorian’s voice, full and rich and kind, conversational yet gruff, succinct yet meaningful. 

Then she would carry the breakfast tray to the barn and meet Winta there, all spruced up for classes during the weekdays, pretty teal ribbons adorning her wavy dark hair. Her daughter would smile, dimple-wide, and they’d set up the breakfast on the low wooden table where the Mandalorian set his food down sometimes. The Mandalorian had let Omera and Winta dally for a moment, saying he’d “eat later” as he fed his son as Winta would feed the child on occasion. He’d make sure that the baby ate a “balanced meal,” and invited companionship as he asked for some pointers on child-rearing from Omera.

Winta and Omera sat around the low table. Like small children in their fantastical realm, they’d re-enact their favorite scenes which they’ve both shared with the Mandalorian and the baby. 

“Baby would be making a fuss there,” Winta recalled, pointing solemnly on the empty cradle, and she’d lift a glass of warm blue milk to drink. “Then I’d say, ‘Baby, you forgot to have your pudding!’” then the Mandalorian would take the bowl and scold Baby for neglecting his pudding…”

Omera giggled. The Mandalorian hadn’t really introduced his son by name, so in his usual gentle and patient (and amused) way, he let the village children name him, and the best they could come up was Baby. Not very creative, the children admitted, but very straightforward. And Baby seemed to appreciate it all the same.

One hour, every morning for the past week turned to two weeks… and then, to three.

Omera knew that this “make-believe” breakfast with absentee participants was finally reaching a point where it was no longer healthy. But Winta had been so wonderfully and eagerly obliging, and her daughter enjoyed it thoroughly as much as Omera did. 

She had to break out a final reality check to Winta.

“We need to stop now, my darling,” Omera truthfully advised Winta, a note as well towards her own self. She kept her tone from wavering. “I think… I think we’re ready to move on. Don’t you think?”

Winta was silent for long moments, like a Sorgan sprite with her glimmering hazel brown eyes on her sweet face framed by soft, brown curls. 

The child’s reply was barely audible, and her face grew forlorn. “Okay, Mama.”

****

Winta had begged for a compromise a few months later. 

Omera was truly stunned at how the Mandalorian and the baby had such an encompassing impact on her daughter; there was still an unmistakable sorrow in Winta which needed appeasement. It wasn’t as pronounced as it had been when Omera first encountered it in her child, but at the end of the day, it was, after all, a compromise.

“We can celebrate the breakfast ritual,” Winta suggested—as they had christened their new routine—“like, one morning every other week. Like—like an anniversary, even when it isn’t—Oh, Mama! I’d like to celebrate Mister Mando and Baby once in a while. They did help us save our village…”

Omera held back a deep sigh of resignation. Winta had small, conniving ways to convince her every now and then, and this was one such event. And her daughter was right. The Mandalorian and Baby could—and perhaps should—be celebrated, even if it’s just the two of them: Winta and Omera, together. 

The widow knew, in a flitting moment of profound sadness, that she had found the fiber in her being to move on, as she had finally lost track of time since the Mandalorian departed from their krill farm. 

On the other hand, the village was indeed grateful, but they had all moved on more easily. Omera discovered, however, that they’d drink to the Mandalorian’s health once in a while, when an excess of good spotchka was to be had.

If the village celebrated in their own ways—and Omera couldn’t possibly have spotchka with little Winta yet!—she knew she had found a reason to agree upon a compromise.

Winta hugged her hard and peppered her cheeks with kisses. 

One morning every other week: that was the arrangement. It wasn’t as stringent as the old clockwork, of course, but muscle memory was still intact—the swiftness of movements as Omera prepared the milk, the cream, the caf, the bread, the meats, and the baby’s pudding— and then a small vial of foxglove flowers and thyme blooms and forget-me-nots. 

She worked with grace. And Omera knew, even when it was not meant to be—she worked with love.

It seemed like another dewy morning with its misty sun rays and birdsong. The night before, Omera thought she’d heard the soft rumble of a faraway starship in the skies. She blinked hard in concentration as she arranged the cream pot neatly at a corner of the tray.

It couldn’t be.

It’s never going to be.

She brushed all suppositions away and wore her small smile as she made a beeline to the barn where Winta was waiting.

The village looked happier, looked livelier as they greeted her with bigger smiles—and Omera thought, it’s great to be in a good mood…

She plodded on, tray balanced perfectly in both hands, as she had always done before the compromise, and she took one step up the barn platform, and another.

“Winta, darling, here’s breakfas—“

When Omera raised her eyes after she safely found her footing through the threshold—

She froze. Her breath had caught so tightly in her throat, she thought she’d suffocate where she stood.

Before her eyes could catch up with this unlikely turn of events, her ears had caught it first—the delighted giggle of Baby, and Winta’s ecstatic response in  turn.

There, in the middle of the barn, was the Mandalorian.

He looked the same yet changed; he still wore the same silver armor, but there were new adornments on them, and Omera realized how much time had flown, and yet… now, at this very instant, it had reached a dreamy standstill.

The Mandalorian’s visor regarded her; the man nodded once, and with an audibly affectionate and playful lilt in his gruff voice, the Mandalorian greeted her: “Knock, knock.”

“Mama,” interjected Winta in overflowing excitement, adding very needlessly, “they’re back! Isn’t it too awesome? We don’t have to pretend anymore—”

Baby giggled and cooed and laughed.

Omera’s breath hitched further as she shot her daughter a look. She knew she blushed so intensely, and she couldn’t speak—

Then the Mandalorian chuckled. It sounded muffled under the helmet, transmitted by vocoder, and Omera was simply about to marvel at the sound of the man’s gentle laughter when—without as much as a warning, and perhaps, to surprise her so entirely that he probably got the reaction he wanted…

The Mandalorian had pulled the helmet off his head. He then cautiously set the shiny helm upon the low table.

Wait… wait… Omera thought in panic that morphed into bliss. What happened to their Creed… What happened to… ‘This is the Way’…??

Omera only saw the Mandalorian’s brown eyes, as depthless as a dark lake in calm afternoons, when she accidentally let the tray slip from her hands. It could have shattered noisily over the floorboards had the man not possessed quick reflexes and caught the disaster before it fractured into many pieces. 

The Mandalorian may have said his name—his real name—and baby’s real name too, but Omera seemed unhearing as she rummaged through the caverns of her mind, so new memories can set up camp and stay there for years and years. 

In that moment, she only saw the coy smile on his handsome face, and when she let out a sigh of disbelief and pure joy, Omera knew that the Mandalorian was committing her smile into memory, too.

*****

A/N: Want to support this fic on AO3 too? 💚 The link is here. TYSM loves!

[theethird]

TEAM GET GROGU BACK... ASSEMBLE!

[ecmlol]

My star. Wars head cannon

Ahsoka and rex are cannon

We see zeb and Kallus as a couple

Din gets trained by Luke

Grogu finds a way to communicate with Din

Boba becomes the new mandol’r

Din make his quest with the help of Luke

HerA with her son in tow will be live action

Omera is omega

The bad batch is alive but they still work for cid

Bad batch live action

Din goes back to sorgen

[autisticdindjarin]

winter family outing ☺️

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din and Ann start to feel comfortable around each other

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I hope everyone is having a marvellous weekend.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Awkward conversations and question, banter, discussions of dogs and kids having a second sense. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,180 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I looked at Din, he hadn’t said anything for a beat, I smirked as his face slowly morphed into utter disbelief. 

“Dead people? Are you crazy?”

“Hey you said he inherited his mom’s ability to see people; how am I supposed to know what that means?”

Din rubbed his eyes for a second, pushing away the irritation that somehow made him want to laugh and at the same time take you to a doctor to make sure you were okay. “Okay. Sure, I can somewhat see you not understanding what I was trying to say, but … dead people? Really?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too offensive to the otherwise living?” I laughed knowing I was irritating him more.

Din shook his head as he stifled a laugh, “God, you are a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah. But a pain in your ass that you thought did a good job today” I beamed as I looked at him. 

He let out a full belly laugh, it had been a long time since he laughed this hard, not because of someone being an idiot, or because of something Grogu did, but simply because the person he was with made him feel comfortable enough to open up. “Okay, that’s it, you’re no longer allowed to say you did a good job today, and I’m never telling you ‘you did a good job’ ever again. Even if you were to save the Ranch from burning down.” He chuckled, wiping a tear. 

“Right, at least until the next time you think I do a good job,” I winked laughing along with him. 

“Nope, not even then.”

“Mmhmm, I have no doubt you’re going to be eating those words.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Let’s make a bet.”

“Sorry, I don’t make bets when it can be avoided. I don’t like leaving my fate up to chance.

“It’s a friendly bet, no money, nothing uncomfortable. Just if you lose, you grant me one wish, and if I lose, I grant you one wish.”

“A wish? What am I, five?”

“Okay, the fact you’re not wishing anymore is just sad, but fine if not a wish, then we can promise something or grant a request.”

“Fine, I’ll grant a request.”

“Great, now if you end up saying ‘Good job, Ann’ once again, even though you declared you’d never say it again, you grant me a request, and if you don’t I’ll grant you a request.”

“Great, then grant me my request, because I’ve already one, I won’t say that phrase …” he motioned with his finger drawing a line, “ever again.”

“No, no, no. I’m not just going to concede now. Come on.”

“Well you’ll be waiting a long time, so be prepared to have it etched on your tombstone?”

“Oh that I did a good job?” I smirked, loving how easy it was to sometimes rile him up. Din simply shook his head, fighting back the laugh, “Anyway … you were saying, before we got side tracked, Grogu inherited his ability to see people from his mom.”

“Yes, the living. The living people. I feel I should emphasize this. Not dead. Living, breathing people.”

I shook my head as I looked out the window, “Okay. I get it. Living people. He can see people … wait does that mean you’re blind?” 

Din glanced over to her, was she for real, or was she doing this to purposefully irritate him, “What the f… Are you for real right now? If I was blind, should I be driving the truck right now?”

“Well, I don’t know. Forgive me for trying to understand you’re cryptic, wrapped in an enigma type conversation. I’m just trying to understand what you’re talking about.” I ran my hand over my face trying not to pull out my hair, “Okay, Din, can you please just explain what you mean?”

Din shook his head, as he swallowed the laugh that was pressing against his cheeks, he cleared his throat, he hated the fact that she kept throwing these ridiculous notions out there and it was loving every minute of it, “Grogu has an ability to sense who’s a good person and who’s not. For example,” Din motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, directing her to look back, “at the diner, I mentioned I had a bad feeling about Toro.”

“Toro?”

“Calican, the young man who asked for your number.”

“Oh, right.”

“When Grogu met him, he refused to come out of the bathroom, locked himself in there till Calican left. He didn’t last an hour before I was asking me to tell him to leave my property. There’s something not right about that guy, so fair warning, be careful around him.”

I smirked wondering what kind of crazy intuition his wife had, “Kids and dogs.”

“Huh?”

I stretched my arms and legs, “Kids and dogs are known to have a sixth sense about people. There was a study done on dogs, and it showed they have a keen sense of who to trust and who not to trust. Kids too. They usually can tell when someone’s a good person or not, the fact Grogu locked himself in the bathroom, speaks volumes.” I looked out the window, when I realized we were passing the ranch, “Where we heading?”

“Gotta pick something up from Boba, he’s my neighbour, the next closest rancher around. After him is Camilla’s aunt, Peli, she lives about an hour and a half from my place.”

“That’s the Boba Fett you were helping with his lost sheep?”

“Yeah”

Silence filled the truck as we drove on, there was one question, no matter how much I wanted to push away kept forcing itself to the front of my mind, “Din, if you don’t mind me asking, what was Camilla like?” I glanced over to him to see his jaw clench, as his fingers gripped the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. 

Din looked over to Ann, he wanted to tell her she had no right to know anything about Camilla, how could she even dare to ask such a question. However, he was just talking about how Grogu was so much like her. Truthfully, he never really talked about her with anyone, well except for Grogu and Peli, on occasion, it sort of became an unspoken rule. 

On occasion, Omera was willing to listen but she didn’t make it a habit. He missed talking about her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad letting Ann know. 

He took in a shuddering breath, “She could make any dark day better. She had this ability to always find the bright spot, it didn’t matter how bad the situation was, how difficult it could be. She knew what to say to make it a little better. She was the only one who knew just what to say or not to say to calm me down when I was being a stubborn jackass.” A small smile started to form on his lips, “She was kind. Warm, and had the best smile and laugh I ever heard or saw.”

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,180 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal @sprout-fics @liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

[mandofury]

Din Djarin: I NEED sleep and cuddles. Anyone want to cuddle in bed?

Cobb, Boba, Omera, Paz, Luke, Mayfeld, Rahul, US: *bursting through the wall* WE WILL.

Din Djarin:

Din Djarin: Cool. We'll need a bigger bed

[poetryinmotion-author]

Sanctuary Ch. 23--”Sight”

"Here it comes," Mando thought to himself. "Here comes the moment." The lift doors opened.

I’m back, baby. After getting yoinked back into Star Wars by The Book of Boba Fett...here it is. The next chapter of Sanctuary.

(Finally.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827509/chapters/91966345

[cyborgamazon]

Lewd spoilers for TBOBF Episode 5

Look, you saw the title. I used the spoiler tag. If you click “Keep Reading” and get spoiled, it’s your own goddamn fault. Fuck you. 

If Din can be redeemed for removing his helmet in the future, does that mean he has a free pass to take off his helmet whenever he wants now?

He could take Omera to Mandalore and they could bathe together in the living waters. A 2-in-1 sin and redemption!

[bluewritesao3]

Okay so.....

about that non human reader X paz fic. Im finished with uni now and I'm starting to get back into the swing of writing again. I'm deciding my time between this fic and the zombie au fic but i need some of ya'll's opinions fight now.

So i have 2. Yes 2 google forms for ya'll. one if about the Paz X non human reader, i know i've asked ya'll to fill this one out before but i've added some questioned so in anyone wants to take that one heres the link: https://forms.gle/hLmpKsQKKwF3HXZT8

The second google form is about the zombie au fic. Again i know i've already asked ya'll to fill it out but this one also has a few extra question to help me get a hand in who what when where and why. If you'd like to take take form heres the link: https://forms.gle/PJKvCKwGBfxAsFxe6

I am not collecting anything from these forms other than what you the audience would prefer to see in these fic's and peoples @ for the taglist if there is anyone that want's to be tagged.

Thank you in advance if ya'll do fill out these forms. It's a great help honestly.