#dyn djaren

[nilesfreeman]

so Mando is canonically baby yoda’s dad now. cool.

[starfirette]

Every Which Way: Chapter Eight

The Way To Redemption 

⇢a/n: I hope this chapter can bring some light to everyone during this difficult time. This was difficult to write, so please let me know if something doesn’t make sense/sounds fragmented. It’s quite possible some paragraphs seem forced in! please leave your thoughts in the replies :) I love you all!!!!

⇢ masterlist | previous chapter | inbox | >>NEXT CHAPTER<<

⇢Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader: angst | wordcount: 4, 453

⇢ Featuring, Wendi, Ryder, Paz, Gold, Lando, and Boba (JFC)

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild​ @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen​

To whomever it may concern, the transmission started. This is Lando Calrissian, the Baron Administrator on Cloud City. Following the disappearance of several men, as well as the Bounty Hunter I employed, I have come across a gunship marked from the Pre-Empire reign. The ship is empty but it is clearly missing its passengers. After careful investigation, I have chosen to relay this transmission to the last person or peoples in contact with the pilot.  

The hand that grabbed out in the darkness pressed over your mouth.

You jerk awake, stirring in fear under your thin quilt.

“Ssh,”the intruder coaxed. Your eyes darted frantically, straining to see past the darkness. Past the sparks of light the dance is the slender face of Vidia.

You sat up, your loose hair in a messy whirl over your shoulders.

“Why are you not in your own bed?” You tiredly implore. Your good friend’s face did not wrench in a frown nor a grin like you would have expected. It chilled your blood when you realized she bore not a shred of emotion in her eyes or her ebony face.

She held your hands close to her, her grip like that of ten men. You couldn’t start to understand the painful silence that knit between you two.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

Her lips parted with a small tremor in her chin. Her words wouldn’t ever quite leave your mind after that night, but you had no way of knowing that at that very moment.

“You’re going to leave me?” you whispered.

Vidia’s hands gripped your hands tightly. Her eyes that glistened under the soft torch light filled with a strange kind of sorrow, as if she were parting from her own child.

“I’ll come back for you. So soon. It’s a promise.”

And then she left your side, as quietly as she’d come.

Bursting awake felt like being overwhelmed by all your senses at once. The medicinal burn of alcohol flooded your nose, stinging your nostrils; the touch of the air burned your skin as if you were too close to the flame of a campfire. Your ears pulse and ache at the flat, shrieking bell that rings without stop.

The bitter taste of your dry tongue floods your mouth as you salivate under the pressure of your panicked awakening. As for your sight,you see nothing but the bright blur of colors, as though you’d squeezed your eyes shut to see distant galaxies much like a child would.

Part of you wanted to call out for help. Your chin quivered as your mouth contorted; the muscles of your jaw clenched as you were unable to form any words. It seemed that, for this time after waking, you could not remember how to speak. You made panicked sounds a bit like a baby would before you could quite recall your verbal skills.

Your pathetic sqwacking for help got answered by the strong, leather bound hands of a stranger squeezing your shoulders.

You couldn’t remember much from before your sleep but that you’d been in serious danger.

You called for your husband as you flailed against the gripping hands, whose strength matched ten hundred men. Amidst the panic, you feel the sorrow that blossomed through your chest like blood on cloth. Upon the thought of your husband, you remembered just what happened. The fuzzy memories fit together like pieces of broken glass. You couldn’t fit them together on your own. You had the hazy image of Din’s hands laid across yours, helping you to guide the glass whole.

“It’s alright,” the light voice commanded. You could vaguely remember hearing this voice once before.

You moan in despair as you recognize Paz, his warmth seeping through his leather gloves as he clutched your hand.

“Bring me to him,” you begged; you knew the answer would not be in your favor.

And yet, when Paz said the words, you could not help but break into a fissure of panic and tears. The aching in your limbs felt as it’d pour way into your bones. The crying only made the pain worse, as it wrung a tension headache across your forehead.

Din is gone. He is lost, nowhere to be found.

You were rescued after three months of being missing. However, as the covert did not have the exact tools to wake you immediately, you were kept asleep for four long months, feeling nothing, witnessing nothing; not even the replay of your memories. No dreams. Nothing to reflect. You could call it a wonderful nap, but it didn’t feel wonderful waking up.

You wished you could go back to that in between state, void of worry and grief until Din had returned.

Oh, how you are praying for his return.

Your vision failed to come back to you after some long minutes of Paz walking you through breathing exercises. The crying had exhausted you, as well as triggered a set of hiccups.

Paz and another Mandalorian, who did not speak, helped you move from the medical table onto a soft bed.

“How did you find me?” you ask, your voice hoarse. Paz is so close to your side, his presence never wavering. “Din had a tracking beacon on his ship. It led us to you.”

Yes, that’s right. He had insisted you wear a tracker.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“The hospital of the covert,” Paz responds faithfully. “You’ll see again, soon. It’ll take time to walk, and for the aching to go away. You’re in the process of recovering. You could think of it like an illness.”

“I do not care about my health,” you croaked. “I want my husband.”

How badly you want him. Burrowing your head in the crook of his warm neck would ease your body’s pain. The weight of his arm around you would ease your mind and heart.

Without him, you feel so helpless.

Guilt tries to pull you into the ground, as if your stomach held a heavy anchor of guilt and it plunged to the center of Nevarro.

How had you been alright, and not Din? How had you been separated?

Worse, had he been killed after you went into hibernation?

Tortured? Hurt? Even one hand laid on him sent you into a frenzy of anger.

Wanting to cry, your face pulled up so all the muscles hurt, but you could not summon the tears to fall.

Paz’s hand came to rest on top of yours. “It’ll be alright.”

You tried to pretend Paz’s hand was Din’s; but even the leather felt different. “How did you find me?” you asked.

“We found a tracking beacon on the Crest. We spent months looking for you, negotiating terms to get you back.” Paz’s hand squeezed yours, as if he meant to be comforting; it did not feel that way. “You have to tell us,” Paz’s voice urged. “Tell us who is responsible.”

Your blood boiled as you thought long and hard about it. You tried your best to recall the finer details. The green armor and the dark features of your captor is clear as day, but his name is impossible to remember. You felt nauseous as you thought. “I don’t know,” you whimpered out. “He was a Mandalorian...but he didn’t follow the rules. He was cruel. He threatened to kill us both. He was working with Lord Vader.”

“What was his name?” This came from Wendi, who had been soundless til now. You didn’t know she was here.

“I can’t remember,” you whispered. 

Wendi gritted a sound of anguish. “There are several Mandalorians in league with Vader,” she proclaimed. “There’s no way we could keep track of those, let alone those who have been in and out of Bespin in the past year. Isn’t there anything else?”

“No,” you muttered. “There’s absolutely nothing.”

One month later

The bed just didn’t feel right without Din by your side.

The endless stretch of soft blankets felt suffocating and cold, as if it were a contraption meant to confine you from anything comforting. There came a time when you couldn’t bring yourself to cry again, as you had done often since the awakening; this such time visited you in the middle of the night, nine months after you had been captured on Bespin. Din’s face is so clear in your mind that you find it impossible to believe such time has passed. Nine months; you could be nearing the end of a pregnancy by now; but instead you had spent these days as an oversized bookend, gathering dust in the back of a warehouse. You’d been left alone, left for practically death, embedded into a block of carbonite.

In nine months you could have achieved so much at Din’s side. Aside from a child, there could have been epic adventures; your first fights. The purchase of a real home somewhere out in the vast universe you’d been so naively eager to explore.

You haven’t a clue what happened to Din after you’d been frozen. A part of you wants to hope that he is alive and well and surviving somewhere in the world. But you know deep down that it’s more likely that he is dead. He might have died just moments after you were put into hibernation. Or perhaps he’d survived a while before meeting a lonely surmise.

You long to see his face. You’ve got no photos or drawings of him; only the rendering of his face in your mind may satisfy the craving for his dark features and brown, brown hair.

You move upright to feel for the knob of the bedside lantern. Your fingers touched the dial, then turned it.

The soft light rose like a beast coming to its hind legs, the flames expanding a long shadow across the wall. You moved off the mattress to the little wardrobe. You’d become seized with the urge to be close to Din, now more than ever. You sift through each folded garment. You feel so suffocated to be parted from your husband.

Your heart is thumping so hard that the pulse is in your ears and in your fingers.

Your fingers close around the fabric instantly when you feel it underneath all the unused clothes.

The jacket is in your hands. The worn, soft brown leather jacket. You could press it to your face and smell Din’s natural perfume. The faded smell of beskar and soap cleared your mind. A moment of tranquil exhaustion had washed over you. Sinking down to rest on your knees, you tucked the leather jacket close around you.

You couldn’t sleep for a long time; instead, you sat on the floor of your bedroom, cradling the leather jacket as if it actually was Din.

Hours seemed to pass. You couldn’t do much but stare at every grain in the walls.

The brown leather jacket, soft and worn, is just as comforting as it had been when Din first gave it to you. He’d cared enough to give this jacket to you eleven months ago. Like you did then, you pulled the leather over your shoulders. Pushing your arms into the sleeves, you furled closer into the cape of fabric. The smell of his soa lingered along the insides of the collar. It hurt to smell him so close to you, so close that you could trick your brain into thinking he’s right beside you.

The sensation had you wide awake. Sleep could not and would not come to grant you the peace of mind. Still dressed in your night clothes, but wrapped up in Din’s jacket, you padded across the little bedroom to the door.

You could see the chair which housed your helmet. Din’s helmet should be beside it. He should be laying in the bed, half awake, mumbling for you to come back and keep him warm.

The halls of the covert aren’t totally empty. Light lined the walls from the mounted torches. A few Mandalorians lingered around, sitting at the leisure tables and playing board games. Probably too anxious to sleep.

There isn’t any moment where the entire covert is asleep all at once. Paz and Ryder, as well as another handful of their friends, guard the tunnels during the night. No one could risk an ambush.

You wandered into the gathering hall. The main table of food is lit with candles, for those who want a midnight snack. No one else is there.

You swiped a piece of cheese out of the basket piled high. Sinking your teeth into the rich block, you took a seat. One hand hovered over a lit candle, your finger swiping across the tip of the flame daringly as you tested the limits.

You heard the clacking footsteps down the hall minutes before they even came into the gathering hall. You tilted your head back so see Paz, standing tall in his blue armor.

“What are you doing awake?” he asked in a voice so soft you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him. “Morning already?”

“Close to it,” Paz said. “The sun will be up in an hour.”

“I see.”

Another day had come and gone; you’re just as lonely as you were the day before, and the day before that. You lost your appetite, setting the cheese down in a cloth napkin to wrap it up and save for later.

“How are you?”

Paz’s voice came again as he watched you carefully from his place just paces away. You gritted your teeth at the question. You’ve come to hate these words.

“I’m the same as I have been all this time,” you tell him. “And I will be until my husband is back at my side.”

His armor shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his beskar moving from left hip to right. “Y/n…”

You grimmaced hearing his voice say your name. You’d heard this particular term, with that particular tone, more times than you could count.

“Please, don’t say anything,” you stopped him before he could continue. “I already know what you’re going to say. For once, I’d like to hear the truth. Don’t give me false hope. Just say what you’re thinking.”

He seemed stunned by your words. His hands hovered in the air awkwardly as he debated doing as you’d asked.

“Please?” you asked him. Your voice cracked so badly that it had alerted you to your own crying.

Paz looked down to his feet. His helmet must have weighed down on his neck.

“Spit it out,” you urged him. You couldn’t help but feel bitter and angry. Paz didn’t deserve the attitude you were giving him, but you were unable to stop it.

“It should have been me.” Paz’s words didn’t make sense at first. “It was meant to be me. And if it had been, none of this would have happened.”

“What do you mean?” you croaked out.

“You and I were meant to marry. Not Din. It was for Clan Viszla. But Din couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else being with you. He forced his way by your side. If I had married you instead, you wouldn’t have been hurt. I wouldn’t have let it happen.”

The world felt like it was colliding with another planet. Your stomach flipped around so violently you felt like you’d puke all over yourself. You hadn’t expected to hear such a confession. You’d rather hoped it would be something useful; something real, something motivational, like how you’d have to eventually move on from grief to go and seek vengeance for your missing husband. Instead, you’d gotten the worst piece of news possible.

You lurched to your feet. “How could you say this to me?” you shouted. “How could you tell me such a selfish, selfish truth? Do you have any idea how much I need you right now? You’re my only friend, and yet all you can do is hurt me.”

He took a heavy stride, his hands reaching out for you. You tried to perry out of his reach, but he grabbed you by the shoulders roughly.

“You asked for the truth. I only gave it. I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m saying this because I feel guilty. Something inside of me is convinced that this is my fault. Do not ever think I resent Din. I’ve known him the greater length of my life. Since he was a child, and I an adolescent, we trained and learned together.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” you sobbed out. “It doesn’t.”

“I know,” Paz murmured.

You clung against Paz’s armor, tucking your head against his chest plate as you cried against the beskar. It was not comfortable, but it felt wonderful. You’d almost forgotten how comforting physical contact can be.

This did not last long. As soon as you’d become fond of the feeling of being held, you were doused with extreme guilt. You wrenched out of Paz’s strong arms, your feet practically missing the floor.

“I have to sleep,” you sniffed, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears. “I have to think. I have to remember.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Paz assured you.

“It’s easy for you to say that when you aren’t missing your greatest love,” you chastised him, your voice still thick with crying. “I just want to be alone for a while.”

There wasn’t anything Paz could think of to say that could possibly stop you. He nodded, his head just barely inclining, as he stepped out of your path.

You hurried back into your bedroom, not stopping to look past anyone that lingered in the tunnels.

You shut your door and switched the locks into place. You shimmied out of your jacket, setting the leather piece on Din’s side of the bed.

It has been too long that you’ve spent sitting around and moping. Everyday that passes could cost Din his life; you’re determined to find him.

Even with this determination, you’re still at a roadblock. Would thinking harder and longer really solve much of anything?

Every thought and memory is a jumble of total nothingness. There’s not much you can make sense of.

Digging through the drawers in your room, you searched for something you could write with. A spare parchment journal and inkpen had been gathering dust for some time under the bed. The pages are empty and worn, as it had waited all its life to be used.

Your dominant hand began to ache as you held the pen to the parchment. You have no writing calluses, nor any proper amount of practice; even so, you’d have to struggle through it.

You started with writing the first details. Where you’d been going and why. You had to walk back through your memories several times to ensure you could remember every little detail. Cloud city. It had been a bounty on the run from his own debts. Din had mentioned how scarily empty the city’s landing pad was when you returned there to pick up the reward.

He was open to the idea that the city was operating under Imperialites, even if it wasn’t being advertised. But what next? You waited on the ship, soon following Din after he’d relayed his desperate message.

You remember running through the narrow halls, dodging stormtroopers on every side before you had reunited with him.

And then what?

You couldn’t recall. It’d been a grieving hour that resulted in the worst outcome. But that’s all you can remember.

You had your three pages of grueling details written in strained font. The blots of the ink stained through the pages where you rested your pen as you took a beat to remember.

You tossed the journal and pen aside. You’d given up––for now.

You’d have to sleep if you wanted to remember anything else useful enough for your search.

You curled into the bed, underneath the quilts. You tugged the leather jacket into your arms.

The gap in your brain is troubling. It’s one hour out of several you can’t remember; it’s ironic.

Burying your face against the fabric, you could practically feel every part of Din. His warmth; his rough hands. Even the stubble he had been letting grow in.

Life would continue to carry on without him. You know this. Now more than ever.

Of course you know that he could be dead. He could have died mere seconds after your freezing.

All you truly want is to put the gnawing mystery to rest. If he’s dead, you’d want to put his soul at peace and live the rest of your days in memoriam of your love.

A knock rapped at the door. You rubbed your pricking tears into the pillow, leaving behind stains like raindrops, before you slowly moved to answer.

Beyond the door was Ryder.

You couldn’t contain your surprise. You’d definitely not become close with Ryder after waking up from your sleep. At least that didn’t change.

“Good morning,” you hazard. His crimson helmet stared directly into your eyes. Robotically, he held out his arm. A folded parchment envelope was forced into your hands. “I will see you at dinner,” Ryder said sternly before he left.

You watched him jerk down the hallway.

“Curious,” you murmured. He became a blot of red in the distance. You shut your door behind you as you returned to lay in your bed.

A few words scrawled on the outside of the envelope in an elegant script. You took a moment to piece the words together, sounding them out audibly to yourself. “Mar...mare...marriage vows.”

You tore into the envelope.

Din Djarren’s name is scrawled at the top; his own script isn’t as elegant, but it is neat and legible. Each letter has a crooked slant, and his ‘I’s are done up with small horizontal slashes rather than dots.

My vow, the letter reads…

My vow is to never leave her.

To always satisfy her.

To never give her grief.

To keep her warm, or cool her down.

To tenderly nurse her to health during times of illness.

To devote my life to her safety.

To give her the strongest of children.

My eternal promise to Y/n Djarren is, and always will be, to stand loyally at her side. No time of darkness could waver my devotion to her. It has been my greatest pride so save her from Aniri and watch her turn into the strongest, bravest woman I’ve known.

My vow is to love her.

It took a long time for you to complete the page. When you did, you read and re-read it, over and over until you had the entire damn thing memorized.

You had always wondered what he wrote on that night. Where you had only written the simplest of vows, he had thought of every single possible promise he could make. It hurt you so terribly to read these vows, now, and know that he’s gone in the world.

You wiped your eyes with the inside of your wrist. After carefully folding up your letter, you slipped it into the pocket of the leather jacket. You returned to your rest, hiding beneath the blankets with your face burrowed into the leather.

You are comforted to know that Din had at least fulfilled all of his promises. He had died with you loving him and being as equally loved. If there’s anything you want to do, it would be to somehow let him know that you’re safe. You worry that he died feeling guilty and scared for your safety.

Drifting off into a soft lull of sleep, Din’s face danced on the backs of your eyelids.

Once tumbled into the dreamland, you found yourself on a cliff’s edge with Vidia.

She held your hand, still wearing her rags. Her face is void of makeup. Her nose and cheekbones glisten gold under the sunshine that warms her night skin. She’s beautiful as you remembered. It wasn’t a wonder why she’d been chosen to wear the makeup. Her eyes that twinkled with mischief turned to you. Her hair, loose curls in the wind, became brushed behind her ear when she asked you, “Why so sad?”

You cast her a glance. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about,” you told her. “Both you, and my husband.”

Vidia Thorpe laughed. “You care for so much more than me and your old brute of a man. I wish I could meet him someday.”

“I wish you could, too,” you muttered. “You never will.”

“Why?” she asks. “Because I’m dead?” Her pink lips puckered as she laughed loudly, almost doubling over herself.

“Because he’s dead, too,” you say.

“Oh, Annie,” Vidia sighed. “Your husband isn’t dead. He’s just lost.”

“Then how can I find him?” you gasped out. “I can’t even remember.”

“Yes, you can,” Vidia promised. She smiled sweetly, as though she knows something you don’t. “I miss you very much,” she tells you. “You’ve truly grown into a dandy woman.”

“Dandy?” you repeated.

“Yes, Annie,” Vidia grinned. “Dandy.”

She extended her arms towards you, pulling you in for a hug. She pressed a kiss to the top of your hair before saying goodbye and walking towards the edge of the cliff.

You reached after her, your heart catching in your throat as you tried to warn her to watch out for the drop off.

She kept walking.

Walking across the clouds, into the sunshine.

The kiss she had placed over your head planted a seed of the memory. Its roots grow down into the center of your mind. The hazy images played in the sky; the green Mandalorian’s dark, handsome face is cast transparent beneath the sun’s rays. His voice speaks in the distance.

“Tell me your name,” the Mandalorian urges, “or I’ll kill your lover.”

“Vidia,” you spit out. “Vidia Thorpe.”

You felt guilty for using your late best friend’s name this way, but it was the only possible thing you could say to avoid inflicting harm onto Din.

“Intersting,” the Mandalorian mulls. “I’ve never heard of Clan Thorpe. You must be a foundling.”

You couldn’t calculate what to say to that. Recalling every single rule and tradition you’d been taught, you did your very best to withstand the Mandalorian’s intterogation.

“Who took you in?”

“Shut up,” Din shouted.

“I asked you a question, Vidia,” the Mandalorian repeated. “Which clan rescued you? Can’t you see that I mean you no harm? We both have sworn the same creed, as you can clearly see. We share the same armor. I guess I’ve been a bit rude, however. My apologies. I am Boba Fett, the first and only heir of Jango. I am pleased to make your aqquaintence.”

[commander-writergirl]

@spacedadheadcanons if you need the visual 😘

[purpl3padl0ck]

Din, laying down after episode 16: Can you tuck me in?

Cara: You handed me a shovel?

Din: Yeah just spread the dirt over me as evenly as you can thanks.

[steebersss]

im active on twitter come follow me

[helaintoloki]

Can a request a Mando x reader where the reader is being very protective of baby Yoda and she ends up beating someone up and Mando is just like “Wow I love her”, I know it’s kind of a weird request but I love your writing :)

a/n: first mando request of the season! i hope you enjoy

A night in another sleazy cantina full of more seedy characters was not what you wanted nor how you wished to spend your evening, but Din had been promised information on the whereabouts of another Mandalorian, and so you found yourself seated in the very back of the room with the Child while he worked. You kept your gaze low and kept to yourself, the baby nestled into your side as he chewed hungrily on the beads of your bracelet.

“No, that’s not food,” you chide gently whilst carefully removing the beads from his mouth. The foundling lets out a whine of protest in response, prompting you to laugh as you carefully settle him into your lap. “Hungry little thing, aren’t you? I think we can fix that.”

Shuffling into the contents of your pack, you produce a portion bread neatly wrapped in cloth. The little one’s nose scrunches in disdain, and you can only let out a sympathetic sigh in response.

“I know it’s not much, but it’ll have to do for now,” you say, but before the little one can so much as reach out for the bread a grimey hand swoops down and snatches the portion from your grasp. “Hey!”

“Thanks for the snack, kid,” the perpetrator laughs, and you watch on in both anger and disgust as the Twi’Lek before you chows down on the only piece of food you had left in your pack. You’re quick to rise from your seat, the child letting out a coo of surprise as he still sits nestled in your grasp.

“That was for the baby,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, well now it’s for me,” he shrugs, turning to walk away only for you to tug him back by the collar of his shirt. Your eyes are fierce and hardened as you glare at the thief.

“Say you’re sorry,” you demand lowly. The Twi’Lek laughs.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re not going to like what happens to you if you don’t,” you warn. The Child, not used to seeing you act in such a manner, burrows himself underneath the fabric of your jacket.

“Listen, little girl, I’m not going to stand here and take threats from someone like you. You don’t belong here, so why don’t you sit back down and mind your own business before I-“

The man doesn’t get to finish his threat as you swiftly deliver a hard blow to his nose. Nearby patrons gasp at the sight before them, some laughing and some watching on with interest, but all seem to enjoy the way you deliver an uppercut blow to the man before following the action with a roundhouse kick that causes your already stumbling opponent to back into and flip over the nearby counter— all accomplished with only one free hand as you held the Child in the other. Drinks and bottles go crashing down with him prompting the bartender to begin angrily shouting at the Twi’Lek in a language you don’t understand. With no more entertainment available to them, the onlookers go back to their previous conversations, leaving a pair of big, brown eyes to slowly peek up at you.

“So much for keeping a low profile,” you say with a huff, blowing away the stray strand of hair that had managed to fall into your face. The Child begins to reach for something behind you, and it’s only then that you notice a silent Din standing right beside you. Though you can’t see his face, you can almost guarantee that there’s a small smirk underneath that Beskar of his. “What?”

“I came to see if you needed any backup, but I guess you had it covered,” he notes, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. He’s glad you can’t see the way his eyes must be gleaming with pride and admiration at the sight of you. You may be pretty, but it’s the way you always seem to pack a punch that has the Mandalorian swearing he’d give up everything just to have you.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t regret anything,” you state firmly. “No one steals food from a baby, especially not my baby.”

“Your baby?”

“Shut up,” you scowl, face heating up with slight embarrassment as you push past him towards the exit. “I’m going to look for some food.”

Din thinks of telling you to be careful, but he knows he doesn’t have to, not when he knows just how capable you are of protecting yourself and the Child. You’d become rather attached to the kid in the short amount of time you’d spent with them, and though Din had warned you against doing so you had failed to listen just as you always do. Yet, he couldn’t deny how perfectly you seemed to fit into the protective mother role; it was as if taking care of the baby was your calling, and he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the truth.

“That’s some woman,” a man at the bar notes with a swig of his drink. Din remains unmoving with his gaze longingly glued to your retreating figure.

“Tell me about it.”

[arkhamartist]

I drew this inspired by this post by @ahs0ka-tano​ so please enjoy a father dropping his son off at Wizard School

[Rbs > likes]

[trashofreylo]

The best interaction on Twitter, EVER.

[ihavearandom]

HANDS DOWN MY FAVE PART <333

[fa-headhoncho]

You and Your Mandalorian

The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Prompt: Your Mandalorian finally keeps his end up of the promise he made you before he went on his journey to return the kid to his people.

Word Count: 1590

Reader: Female

Warning: uh, I wrote this when the show ended and its been sitting in my google docs ever since. I was too nervous to post but like why not post now, I have nothing to lose :p

Masterlist

=====

The muscles in your cheeks are starting to twitch as you force out another laugh at Kneeper’s joke. He was the farmer’s son next door and he always insisted to walk you home when you went to the market later than usual, saying how “a pretty lady like yourself might wander into trouble”. It was more likely you would be the one causing trouble but you weren’t about to tell him that. 

But, fearing to be impolite or not grateful, you didn’t dare to say no to him. You were still quite new to this small town and you weren’t about to make a bad name for yourself in the tightly sewn neighborhood. You had a complicated past and the last thing you needed was your name being spread throughout the town. 

It was easy to lay low as you lived away from the town market, only two other homes nearby. You didn’t speak much to the neighbors, only a few conversations here and there. The most social interaction you had was at the meals the mothers invited you to when their husbands were out every seventh night.

The families were nice, don’t mistake that. They helped you move into the small cottage at the end of the crop fields, the daughters dropped out fresh eggs and baked goods every morning, and they never tried to push to know why you appeared out of nowhere. The only issue was their traditions and beliefs were a bit old fashioned for your taste.

“... well, this is my stop.” You announce, stopping a few feet from the entrance of your home. “I appreciate the company, Kneeper. Tell your parents, again, thank you for the bread.” He nods at you, a sheepish smile on his face. When he doesn’t move to leave, you shift awkwardly.

The blonde takes in a shaky breath, “Appreciate it enough to invite me in?” He looks at you through the brim of his broad straw hat. You open your mouth and close it, a small blush appearing on your cheeks at his forwardness.

“Kneep,” You let out a sigh and adjust the basket resting on the crook of your arm. “I would love to but it— it’s getting quite late. I still need to tidy up and get ready to turn in for the night.” He hangs his head in rejection but nods otherwise.

“I understand…” He digs his hands into the pockets of his pants, “Maybe another time then?” He hopes, you let out a chuckle at his determination.

You move to continue down the path that leads to your front door, calling back to him over your shoulder, “We’ll see.” And with that empty promise, he departs to his own home.

=====

Making your way through the living room, you enter the small kitchen. You set down the basket full of groceries with a sigh. Kneeper has been trying to get a date from you since his mother started making friends with you. It was flattering, of course, but you were not interested at all. It would be a few more years till you considered it, honestly.

Turning on some music on the player you were gifted, you start to put away your groceries while putting on a little dance. The mundane activity is ever so exciting for you. In your past bounty hunting life, you never had the luxury of keeping fresh food. Too busy to make a meal and when you did have time, it was already wilted and expired so this luxury was something you never got tired of.

A deep chuckle interrupts your domestic bliss. The strange sound sends your whole body into autopilot. Grabbing the knife from the block on the counter, you don’t even think twice when you turn and throw it towards the intruder.

It hits the wall behind them and you go to charge. They don’t fight back as you pin them against the wall, an arm across their chest to hold them back and your other hand on the knife above them.

It was a man, one you’ve never seen before but the way his armor presses against you feels familiar. He has short, messy brown hair that matches his soft brown eyes. He’s taller than you, broader as well. It would appear to be easy for him to take you down on size alone but he doesn’t move. “Who are you?”

“Cyar’ika…” The man whispers out, his eyes searching your face. It sounds familiar, the name being played on repeat in your head every time you try to go to bed. You know that voice but not the face, “It’s me, cyar’ika, it’s—“

“Din,” You breathe out, relaxing your arm on him. Your eyes bounce around on his face, taking in his features. The only time he’s had the helmet off was in the dark and now it’s in the soft light of solar lamps that show his face. You can’t hold back the you raise a hand to his cheek, he immediately leans into the touch. You’ve dreamt of this day before. “Where’s the helmet?”

“I took it off.” He announces, eyes closed. “Grogu was too important.”

“Grogu?”

“The kid. That’s his name.” He corrects, a slight strain to his voice. You know not to push as it appears that the little green guy is not here with him. He also promised when you left, that he would only come find you when he was done with his mission. His mission of returning the child to his people.

Nothing is said as you remove yourself from the Mandalorian. His eyes snap open at the sudden loss of contact, sending you a confused look. You give him a tight-lipped smile and grab his hand.

You lead him towards the other side of your cottage where your bedroom is located. Assuming he has had a rough few days just by his appearance, you decided a nice rest would be much deserved.

As you slowly help Din out of his armor, you get transported back to your time spent together on the Razor Crest. He watches as you carefully unlatch the beskar from his body, setting it in a neat pile on the floor of your closet. You check over him just as you did before, making sure he doesn’t have any injuries.

“I’m fine, cyar’ika.” Din assures, grabbing your forearms as you go to check his ribs for the second time. You nod and slowly try to detach yourself from him but he stops you. 

The way his gloveless hand feels against your cheek freezes you on the spot. It’s been too long since you’ve been visited by your Mandalorian. Now he comes back helmetless and you can see the damage the journey before has done to him in his eyes.

“Have your eyes always been this expressive?” You ask with a soft tone causing a small smile to appear on his face.

He shrugs in response. The two of you fall into silence after that. Din was too busy recommitting your features to his mind; your hair was much longer and there were more freckles that littered your faces due to the much time you spent outside. You were too invested in memorizing his face; his short brown hair that matches his brown eyes, his sharp nose, everything.

Din then pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I missed you.” He whispers, afraid to break the moment. You lean up with a smile and press a chaste kiss to his nose.

“I missed you too.” You giggle out as his nose scrunches up. Not being able to hold back your excitement anymore, you burrow your face into his chest and wrap your arms around him. “Did you know that you are very pretty?”

You almost melt at the little chuckle that slips past Din’s lips and the slight blush that appears on his cheeks. “Thank you, mesh’la.” He says in a low voice and hugs you to his body. 

You’ve both craved this moment since you left him on the Razor Crest. The life getting too hard for you as you grew older and he understood your need for retirement. He felt the same at the time, wanting nothing more to run away with you and the kid but he knew that wasn’t the fair thing to do. But, now that the kid was with his people, he could finally start the life he promised you.

“How long are you staying?” You manage to get out, fearing that this was just a stop before he took another voyage. He removes his chin from the top of your head and pulls back to look at you. He lets out a sigh and you feel him tense underneath your fingers. Fearing his answer, you burrow your face further into his chest as the tears start to build up in your eyes.

“Hey, hey.” He gently guides your head back to look up at him. He sees your cheeks slowly becoming red, a pout formed on your lips as you try not to let him see you break down in front of him. “I’m not going anywhere.” He confesses, resting a hand on your cheek. “I promise you, mesh’la.”

You can’t help the tears that stream down your face at his words. After spending years together, dancing around your emotions and then leaving him when it was too much to handle anymore, it was finally time to live out the rest of your lives together. Just you and your Mandalorian. 

[nilesfreeman]

a Good Thing that happened in episode eight that no one is talking about is that Mando finally got his jetpack. good for him.

[starfirette]

Chapter 7 coming out in one hour

Every Which Way: Chapter One

The Way Off Aniri

➡️a/n: a new series! Woohoo! Shoutout to  https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/ for inspiring the names of the people and planet. There is possible false information regarding Mandalorian culture, so don’t bitch to me about it. I know I said posting was at 8 but I am too anxious. @interwebseriesfan24​ is my lovely beta so go follow her and maybe even read her fluffy AF star wars fanfics!!! For more info on the OCs included, visit my OC page. 

➡️masterlist 

➡️Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader | attempted execution | attempted murder | arranged marriage | love triangle kinda | slow burn romance | mild smut | angst to fluff | strangers to lovers | word count: 7,566! 

➡️ JOIN THE TAGLIST

NEXT CHAPTER AVAILABLE NOW!! >> ! << 

Aniri is a planet where a monarchy reigns supreme. 

The Anirian King has submitted a request to the guild, which suggested that he wants a man dead for making threats against the court; Karga just had suggested his best fighter take the job, just as non-explicitly as the king had been. 

And Din has never been one to reject a job; especially if the pay seemed unreal.

To eliminate one man, the court was offering half a million credits and ten pounds of ruthenium. 

Happy and boasting, Karga contacted the Anirian council and relayed that his best hunter would be taking the case. 

The Mandalorian was given a tracking fob as well as a quick run down of Aniri. 

In Karga’s own words, Aniri is not nearly as fluffy and dreamy as the public galaxy might think. These perceptions were coined by Anirian councils to distract suspectors from their supposed sympathies to the Empire as well as their cruel, unjust government. Karga had heard rumors that the current princess, Emelea, had been going on a rampage simply because her parents would not stop her. 

With great consideration, Din reviewd these rumors. While he set a course to Aniri he told himself that he’d never actually been to the planet. Karga was not the only person to have said such things about the planet, but there were several offending accounts claiming Aniri is a wonderful place to live. People live their lives, no matter how a planet fairs. As far as Din knows, the planet was globally unified a century ago.While he’d never actually been to Aniri, he knew better than to listen to silly rumors, especially when every person has a different account. 

Arrival to Aniri did not give Din any trouble. The atmosphere enterance gave the Crest zero problems. 

Din touched down in a grassy plain about half a mile from the main palace, which was surrounded by large steel gates. On the landing plot were a large number of court members and palace guardians. 

With a short greeting, Din followed the guardians into the palace, where the royal family waited to greet him. 

The King is Josiahn Weslyn. He is shorter than Din, and pasty white, with thinning hair washed pure of color. His wife, also his first cousin, is Melvanne Weslyn, a taller woman, but with the same thin hair colored a muddy brown. Both she and her husband have no eyelashes and beady eyes. 

Their children are equally unattractive. 

The triplets are Melv, Riz, and Emelea. Melv and Riz are boys, tall as their mother but with darker eyes that are wreathed with heavy grey bags. Their heads share the same waves of suffocated amber that rolls down their necks. The strangest of the bunch is without a doubt Emelea; she is the tallest of her family. Her sunken black eyes stare deeply into Din’s helmet. It seemed certain to Din that she could see past his helmet. 

His bones felt exposed to the princess, who did not blink as she stared. The wind tousled her dirty blonde hair before she finally sank into a deep curtsy, in sync with her two brothers.

Din greeted them with a cool nod of his head. “I am here to complete your task,” he said. The modulator of his helmet maximized his aversion to the strange bowing of the children. 

Josiahn paid Din’s near invisible discomfort no mind as he gestured for his guardians to part and allow Din to come forward. 

“Our Mandalorian savior,” Josiahn proclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“Our Mandalorian savior,” his family echoed.

“Please come with us.” 

One by one the court members turn on their heels to return inside the palace. Their hems swished an inch above their heels, waving around a golden emblem wrapped around the ankles of their customary pants. As for the palace, it is quiet and cold. Din’s boots scuff against the concrete floors. The walls are devoid of decor. Every window has a set of large shutters to keep the sun out. 

The only light comes from torches lit along the grey walls. 

Keep reading

[commander-writergirl]

Parent Fluff Friday

The only rules are to give the character/ship and the age of the child along with their gender. Also if you pick a singular character, inform me if they are in a relationship with the reader or a single parent. Also, inform me if the child is transgendered. Also, I will be allowing more than one request per account but they have to be different characters/ships; I’ll be taking between 5 to 15 requests (I have that gap more for my self-confidence). That is all :)

Characters:

John Kennex

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Natasha Romanoff

Diana Prince

Carol Danvers

Wanda Maximoff

Javier Pena

Poe Dameron

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Dyn Djaren

Cassian Andor

Cara Dune

Rafael Barba

Ships:

Bucky/Nat- Winter Widow

Winter Witch- Bucky/Wanda

Steve R./Nat - Romanogers

Steve R./Wanda - Scarlet America

Scarlet Widow - Nat/Wanda

The Captains - Carol Danvers/Steve R.

Diana/Steve Rogers - Wonder America

Stucky- Bucky/Steve

Captain Widow - Carol Danvers/Natasha

Captain Witch - Carol Danvers/ Wanda

Dameray - Poe Dameron/Rey Skywalker

Diana/Dyn Djaren

Carol Danvers/Dyn Djaren

StormPilot - Poe Dameron/Finn (Limited at 2 Requests)

Needed info:

Newborn – 21

AU of choice if any

How many children (including ages)

Tags:  @thefanficfaerie​​​  @outside-the-government​​​  @loverbug1123​​​ @medicatemedrmccoy​​​ @dolamrothianlady​​​ ​ @bkwrm523​​​ @imoutofmyvulcanmind​​​ @auduna-druitt​​​ @daybreak96​​ @poeticandors​​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​​ @spacedadheadcanons​​ @locke-writes​​ @callingmrsbarnes​​ @onebatch--twobatch​ @girl-next-door-writes​​

[purpl3padl0ck]

I imagine Boba Fett coming back to the light cruiser like a mom coming back to get her kids from soccer practice and the youngest is crying on the ground, the sisters are trying to comfort them, and the older cousins are throwing rocks at the youngest calling them a little bitch.

[gardeningfriend]

This is the way.

I kinda suck but I gave it my best shot

[barentain-art]

din and baby yoda as that cute video of a dad and a baby singing girls like you  💖