#grogu points din to all the best fishing spots

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Sunday evening wind-down sketch. The boys are fishing 🎣

[burnwater13]

“It has the Child! The Child! Help the Child!”

Din Djarin had cried that out when those meanie Quarrens pushed Grogu’s pram into the spot where the mamacore came to feed. The other Mandalorians came to his aid and that included helping the Child. 

It was very dramatic.

Grogu was kind of surprised that the Mandalorian was so worried about him. The trip to Trask hadn’t been a lot of fun and the Mandalorian bounty hunter had been pretty stern with him over things like what he ate (eggs, yum), what he shouldn’t eat (ice spiders, yech) and how much work he should help with around the ship (way more than Grogu knew how to do). 

Grogu had kind of hoped that the Mandalorian would forget about all of that once the Frog Lady was sorted out. He guessed, based on how happy the two Frog people had been when they were reunited, that Din Djarin would lightened up a little. Just a little. A tiny smidge. Because love was in the air. But no.

They had gone to an inn and Grogu was eager for some food and was given a bowl of stew. It looked delicious and he could hardly wait to eat it. The Mandalorian was talking to other people and paying no attention to Grogu. If he had been, he would have understood what had happened. But no. 

A critter in the bowl jumped out and latched on to Grogu’s face and tried to eat him, through no fault of his own and the Mandalorian didn’t even notice! Wow. He must have been really mad to not even notice. And sure, as soon as Grogu yelled for help, Din zapped the thing with his vibro-blade and it fell into the dish in kind of an all’s well that ends well manner. Except for the Mandalorian telling him sternly not to play with his food. Huh? What?

Grogu hadn’t been playing with his food at all. He’d been in a fight for his life and the Mandalorian hadn’t even cared. Accusing him of playing with the critter that was trying to eat him! It was unfair in the extreme. That’s how Grogu knew that the Mandalorian was still pretty upset with him over the ice spiders, and the eggs, and anything else he could think of. It was disappointing to say the least. 

To add insult to injury, they didn’t even spend enough time at the inn for him to finish his stew. They went off with the Quarren fishermen and that’s when they got into the rest of the trouble. Grogu had been pretty sure that Din Djarin was going to find a way to blame it all on him. He got too close to the edge. Little critters like him were just what big monster critters liked to eat. Something like that. 

But no. 

The way the other Mandos told it, the only thing the bounty hunter had been worried about was Grogu. Which, all things considered, was pretty nice. His pram had been destroyed by the mamacore and he had gotten kind of wet and Din Djarin had gotten really wet. Grogu knew the Mandalorian wasn’t a fan getting wet like that. His boots would make that squelching sound that no one liked and his cape/blanket thing would start to smell musty. Neither one of them liked that either. 

It had been a nice couple of moments. 

Yup. It only lasted a couple of moments because Mandalorians are all about their Creed and when one group doesn’t follow it the way another group does, well, they get all huffy with each other and that’s that. Grogu thought it was a pity. These Mandos had helped them both when they really needed it. It seemed not quite right to be so ungrateful. On the other hand, those other Mandos hadn’t actually been rays of sunshine either, complaining about Grogu’s protector being part of a cult! That didn’t seem nice either.

Grogu sighed as they watched the other Mandos explode the fishing vessel after Din Djarin left them there in a huff. Grogu supposed the best thing he could say was that his Mandalorian wasn’t mad at him for what happened and that moment might just have marked a turning point in their relationship. 

Now they could get the Razor Crest fixed and leave Trask and find someplace that had food that didn’t attack you and where the people were a lot friendly. He also hoped that the smell of the mamacore would wash out of his coverall. It just made him hungry.  Dank Farrik!

[peppermint-toads]

din djarin asks you said?? what about a raging hurt comfort. like brink of death, Din is distraught at the thought of losing you type deal, maybe you’re tortured and he can’t get there in time and then you’re in and out of consciousness and he’s FREAKING tf out bc he thinks he’s going to lose you and it’s all his fault. basically some real dramatic shit?

an: i got carried away sorry hope you like it, pre-grogu btw

cw: actual torture, blood, be warned, 1.7k words

He prodded your stomach again with his blaster, holding it there so the metal barrel dug into your flesh.

“Where is he?”

“I told you,” you sputtered through a mixture of blood and saliva. “I don’t know.”

You wheezed, gulping down burning breaths through impacted lungs. You were suspended from the ceiling, durasteel binders held up with a chain that was bolted above you. Your feet dangled above the cold, concrete floor of the cell. You pointed your toes as best as you could to take some strain off your shoulders and wrists.

There were two stormtroopers in the small room and what looked like a lieutenant. It was hard to see the markings on his uniform with your blurry vision. The troopers had already battered your face and body, your under eyes starting to swell and bruise. Your lip was busted and you could taste the coppery fluid coating them.

A Galactic Empire general was on the run, seeking refuge with the rebels. Mando had picked up the fob and brought the two of you to some dingy casino on Nar Shaddaa. You were sitting next to one door, Mando at the other.

“Eyes?” He asked through the commlink.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, swirling your drink around with your straw. You were dressed in your best clothes and nicest makeup, Mando had told you it’d help distract the runaway general. You were bait, essentially.

You spotted him, stocky build, stringy blond hair, droopy eyes completed with purple bags. You were ready to get it over with, tired and the constant clinking and whirring of slot machines was about to push you over the edge.

You definitely weren’t as sharp as usual. Mando had been running you around the galaxy for the past few days, which meant no sleep, little food, no showers. You could’ve collapsed face first onto the illuminated table if you wanted. But he had promised. As soon as the bounty was secured, you could return to the Crest and he would buy you colo claw fish, roasted porg, anything you could possibly want. So, you pushed through and did as he asked.

You guessed the Empire caught onto yours and Mando’s little sting operation and decided to interrupt. Blaster shots rang through the dimly lit casino and biotic grenades exploded the walls. Only one thought flashed through your mind: Mando.

You glanced around through smog and blaster smoke, searching for beskar. You saw him. There were four stormtroopers on him, he was struggling. You opened your mouth to scream for him, but the blunt end of a blaster was slammed into your temple, and you were crumpling to the floor. You had woken up in a fog hours later, curled up on a metal cot in a holding cell.

You barely had time to lift your head to your pulsing head before the trio was storming in and suspending you in the air.

“You don’t know?”

You shook your head, hair falling over your face.

The lieutenant glanced at one of the troopers and nodded his head toward you. They exchanged short, firm nods, and the trooper stepped closer to you. He pulled a black rod from his belt, and flipped a switch. You flinched as the end of it jolted to life with blue electricity.

It buzzed louder and louder as he got closer. You thrashed in your shackles, caving in your stomach as far away from him as you could. He pushed the prod onto your bare thigh and you yelped, nerve endings crackling and searing with white hot pain. You swung in the air until the other stormtrooper forcibly stabilized you.

“Where is the traitor?” The lieutenant’s tone was far more insistent now, he was growing impatient. There were so many things you wanted to say, tell him he was the one who scared him off in the first place, but you could barely even open your eyes.

The lieutenant nodded to the trooper again. This time, he shoved the prod onto your hip bone that was barely covered by your underclothes. Your throat strained with the high pitch screech you let out. The thin skin covering your bone was far more sensitive to the pain.

It went on like that for what had to have been hours, days even. The same questions, the same results.

Finally, the lieutenant signaled the trooper to release your binds, letting your wrists free. They had no reason to worry about you escaping, you were barely alive.

Your body smacked against the ground and you grunted. You lifted your hand to brush over your rib cage and winced. You definitely had a cracked rib or two.

You caught a glimpse of the rest of your body, hardly believing what you looked like. Each prod had left a red, blistering center with purple veins blossoming outward. You counted six, maybe seven of them.

You lie on the ground, staring at the grate on the floor that swallowed up your blood with a gross gurgle. Your eyes couldn’t keep up anymore, and the warmth of unconsciousness overtook your body, finally letting you relax.

You dreamt of fond things; finally getting the huge, warm meal Mando had promised, the safe whooshing of hyperspace passing you by on the crest, but most of all, Mando. You were running through a meadow on some sunny planet somewhere. He stood firmly planted in the tall grass that was swaying in the wind. He got closer, and closer, and closer. You could practically feel the warmth of his chest on yours until you were startled awake by the cell doors sliding open.

A stormtrooper was on you quickly, gripping your biceps and trying to pull you up.

“Get the fuck away from me! I already told you I don’t know where he is.” You spat, using the last of your energy to meekly flail and scream and kick against his white, plasticy shins.

“Mesh’la, it’s me. You are hurt.” You didn’t miss the way his hands trembled around you.

His voice sounded a little different through the helmet, but it was still his. The burst of adrenaline seeped from your body, and you slumped back against the floor, knowing you were safe again.

“You look fucking terrible in that.” You flashed him a weak, red-stained smile before your head thumped back against the concrete, and he fell to his knees.

He shook you, whispering your name, willing you to wake up. Your eyes rolled open for a second and you coughed his name back.

He flung you over his shoulder, and thankfully you couldn’t feel the way the plastic armor dug into your ribs and hips.

He carried you through the massive Empire ship. The hallways were all dark, and they all looked the exact same, but Mando managed to expertly navigate through them somehow.

You didn’t wake again until you were back on the Crest. You couldn’t really move. You stared straight up, met with the steel ceiling; you were on the floor. You turned your head, taking in a sharp breath as you did. Half of the med kit was strewn across the floor. You chuckled, it made sense. You were usually the one patching him up.

The bend of your elbow stung where he must’ve administered the bacta through an IV. The rest of your wounds were slathered with a layer of salve and covered with sloppy, rushed dressings.

You tried to sit up, but when your abdomen crunched you cried out. Mando had appeared by your side in an instant. He loomed over you, clad again in the beskar you were used to.

“You’re awake.” He stated, kneeling by your head.

“Thank you, for the,” you gestured towards your body, “patch up.”

“I used you as bait and you almost died. When I reached your cell, you were almost dead. If I had come one minute later, you would be dead.”

He said it like he was replaying the events in his head, confirming that he’d done what he’d done.

He’d like to believe he just didn’t want to be alone again after having you around for so long, that you were just another body aboard his ship. Really, though, the Mandalorian was growing to care for you, and it scared him.

“Mando it-it's not your fault.” You struggled to talk, still finding great difficulty in taking in a full breath. “I should’ve been more careful-”

“No.”

You recoiled at his tone.

“What did they do to you.” He demanded.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Can you be serious?” He begged.

That was the one time you felt like you needed to be strong for him, if you broke down, he would have lost it and you could feel it. You ignored your injuries as best you could, just talking to him, reminding him that you’re alive.

You shifted your weight to one elbow with a grimace, using your other hand to pull his bare hand close to your chest. Mando relaxed, feeling your warm skin and beating heart. You started to speak.

“After they left, the troopers and the lieutenant, I-I must’ve passed out. But, I saw you in my head, and I knew you were coming. I wasn’t scared for a second.” You smiled with fat tears welling in your eyes as you stared where you thought his eyes would be.

You pushed yourself to your knees, stopping midway to catch your breath. Mando had tried to help you up, but you pushed him off.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning awkwardly over his body. Slowly, he lifted his hands to wrap them around your back. You melted into him and he held you tighter. The stabbing pain in your ribs and stomach meant nothing because he was holding you so close. He cradled the back of your head and pressed your cheek into his shoulder.

“I thought I lost you.”

It was a choked whisper crackling through his vocoder.

“I can’t do it without you anymore. I need you here.” He admitted.

You thought for a moment, that you heard him choke down a sniffle. And out of the corner of your eye, you watched a salty tear roll down his neck and bleed onto his cowl.

“I’m not leaving, Mando.”

You’re not leaving.