#royal!din

[loquaciousferret]

Y’all are NOT ready for my upcoming Knight!Din and Royal!Reader AU… the most spicy slowburn fantasy AU that will ever grace your screen

Coming soon!

[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

din djarin x f!royal!reader

summary: the princess makes it her mission to know what’s really behind that rigid suit of beskar.

warnings: fluff, mando/princess bonding, nothing crazy happens tbh, hopefully not too ooc, unedited as fuck

<<last chapter! | masterlist!

ੈ✩‧₊˚. iii. a suspect *.ੈ✩‧₊˚.

You step out of your meeting with a relieved sigh, resting your forehead against your palm, leaning back against the double doors of the great hall.

Inside, you could hear the Council quietly disputing their next topic of concern, some trade with a far-off planet.

Between your fingers, you see the Mandalorian standing a small distance away. Straight with a hand on his belt, dutifully aware.

“You didn’t tell Phex about the other night, thank you,” you tell him gratefully.

The Mandalorian nods as always.

You take the lead, breezing past him and heading through the passageway. It held large open windows, from which you could see the village and your people.

A child suddenly stops with a bucket of water, staring right at you with wide eyes and you give him a graceful smile.

Then you make a show of waving in a very childish manner.

It was unladylike of you, but it made the child wave back with triple the enthusiasm. A wide toothy smile on his young face.

He tugs on the dress of who you assume belongs to his guardian. The woman looks down before following his little pointer finger to you. Her eyes widen just as the little boy’s did and she instantly drops into a curtsy.

You nod your head softly, still smiling.

A hand on the base of your spine makes you jump and tear your eyes away from the village. You almost glance behind you but a voice speaks close to your ear.

You freeze.

“Your Highness, we should keep going.”

A flash of irritation makes you purse your lips. But you do as the Mandalorian says, the spot where his hand was touching you beginning to burn.

Your cheeks feel warm, not used to physical touch from anyone in this way.

Maker, you feel delusional.

“Why must you usher me away from my people?” You ask hotly, as soon as he shuts the door to your quarters.

“I—”

In a very uncharacteristic manner, the Mandalorian suddenly stumbles over his words. Seemingly looking for an excuse.

Eyebrows knitting together, you attempt to put two and two together.

“Do you… do you have a suspect? Is that why you don’t want me lingering around others?”

He’s silent.

“You believe it’s one of my people? But why—?”

“I have many names to cross before I can determine who wishes to inflict harm upon you. For now, we must take every precaution necessary,” his raspy voice modulator replies. His stance shifts, hip jutting out a bit. You follow the movement despite yourself.

To your surprise, your sharp tongue fails you.

Retreating into your private quarters, you half expect him to follow you but he stays put in the antechamber. In your position by the vanity, you can still see him clearly.

“You know, I don’t really know much about you,” you pick up a journal and pen. “We spend nearly every waking moment together and I don’t even know if you’re human.”

The Mandalorian makes a sound you can only perceive as a huff. “I can assure you we’re both made of the same flesh and bone.”

You can’t spot a single spot of revealed skin on his person. Every inch is covered by beskar or fabric.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’ve heard of few warriors on Mandalore that choose to conceal their faces to any other living being. Do you belong to this group?”

“You mean the Children of the Watch,” he rasps through his modulator. You make your way further into the antechamber, sitting upon the settee. The Mandalorian stands by the foyer.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“I simply choose to wear my helmet because it makes my work a lot easier. It keeps my identity concealed.”

“Doesn’t it make you stand out more?”

“Does it?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you think this is a trick question to boost his ego.

“I’d say so. I can’t go anywhere without whispers following behind.”

“Maybe they’re about you.”

You shake your head. “Oh, I doubt it. I am to be their queen but I’ve only ever lived in the shadows since-since—”

There’s a heaviness in your gut as you think about your parents. You try your best not to, dismissing any reminder of them so that you can try to maintain a level head.

It upset you too much.

“You said it yourself,” injects the Mandalorian, sensing your struggle. “You’re to be queen soon. You were born to be their ruler. And you’re kind.” He says it as though it’s the most shocking thing above all. “Perhaps too kind.”

“Are you suggesting that a ruler should be cruel to their people?”

“No,” the Mandalorian rasps. “But it can make you more vulnerable. You see the good in people. It can blind you to the bad.”

You eye him for a few moments, wishing you could read any part of him. But it’s like trying to identify feelings in a brick wall.

You think over your response and begin slowly. “I’m aware many rulers across the Galaxy are tyrants. Leaders of their worlds, but terrorists to their people. Like ants under the shadow of a boot. But I refuse to be like that. And if it means there will be more attempts over my head, then I’m glad you’re here.” You sigh. “I won’t change. Not for anyone.”

The Mandalorian is silent for a minute.

“Then maybe you’re what this Republic needs.”

You stare at him, trying to see past that pitch black helmet. You wonder if he truly means what he said, wishing you were better at handling more serious topics like these.

“Don’t say that around Phex,” you joke as you fight off the warmth blossoming in your cheeks at his comment. “He’ll try to rope me into the Senate more than royal duties require.”

There’s a puff of air that catches onto the modulator of his helmet. Like a chuckle.

It makes you smile a bit.

“You’re still upset with the Senator.”

Your smile drops. You briefly wonder how he knew about your ire, before realizing he had heard your confession in the abandoned tower nights ago.

“No. No, I know why he did what he did.” A certain blacksmith had something to do with that. “But you must know I’m not trying to be difficult. I just—all this fuss, it’s rather complicated seeing as I haven’t been harmed... it is those around me that have met the fate Phex believes is intended for me. My last guard still lies in the infirmary and my handmaiden barely survived an attack outside these quarters mere months ago…”

He squares his shoulders. “I’m quite good at my job, Princess.”

“Yes, but don’t you see? I’m not worried about myself,” you urge desperately. The twinges of discomfort are impossible to hide, you want to outright say it but you find yourself too humiliated.

He reads between the lines. “Princess… it’s not your job to worry about me. I’m skilled in every form of hand-to-hand combat, I wield the strongest armor in all the galaxies. There’s few that have gained the upper hand against me. It hasn’t happened in years.”

Something builds in the room. It gets more serious than you would like. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Is that a hint of smugness I sense in you, Mandalorian?” You ask as cheekily as you can manage, trying to ease the tension before it gets more uncomfortable.

He stays silent, as if he hadn’t just said more words to you in the last few minutes than he had in the two weeks since he’d been assigned your protector.

You sigh, a small part of you wants to get him to talk again. “In years?” You try.

The Mandalorian bows his head. “Well, as children, you have to fall before you can learn to stand. In combat, the same applies.”

You fight a scoff. “You haven’t lost since you were a child?”

“In training,” he nods.

You knew of the rumors. The Mandalorian was a formidable force, undefeated in his fights. He had deep scarlet red in his ledger, gushing and flowing from his past. Something you’d only managed to learn about through hushed gossip in the village. Nights, before the threats began, when you would dress in a disguise, hidden beneath layers of cloaks, slowly gliding through the marketplace with sharp eyes and even sharper ears.

Even now, as a work-for-hire bodyguard, the Mandalorian managed to rack up quite a reputation. Hefty in price but matchless in his service.

There’s no one better in the field.

Apparently.

You suppose he’s already proven his skill in tracking, staying hidden in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on you. But you’ve never seen him fight…

Hopefully, you’d never have to.

The soft glow of the sun catches your attention through your windows. They’re sealed shut again, the rope tied beneath your bed reluctantly discarded but you didn’t want the Mandalorian to watch you more than he did already.

You suddenly remember the journal and pen in your grasp and open the book gently.

Flipping to the next empty page, you scribble a few things you’d discussed with Senator Dameron this morning. It’s important for your future plans once you are crowned…

You don’t realize how long you’ve been writing until your hand begins to ache and your eyes have to squint from the lack of light to your parchment. As if he’d been watching your every single minuscule movement, the Mandalorian suddenly crosses the room and lights a wall torch with a device you hadn’t noticed he had strapped to his arm.

The heat of the flames lick at your skin even from the distance between you… the dusk pulls a yawn from deep within your chest. The long meeting with the Council exhausted you.

You longingly eye your bed and then turn to face the Mandalorian again. He stands there like a statue.

“I think…” you’re hesitant to end this comfortable silence you’ve both fallen into so soon. “I think I’ll retire for the night. I’m exhausted.”

The Mandalorian simply nods.

You stand from the settee and glance around the antechamber. Everything was in place, just as you’ve always left it. Nothing out of the ordinary other than the disarray of pillows from where you’d been sitting for the better part of an hour.

Curiosity got the better of you. “Erm— where do you sleep?”

He’s silent.

You absolutely hate it and you knew you couldn’t go back to the stoic figure of beskar you’d been living with before.

You push again. “Do you sleep?”

“It’s my duty to ensure no harm comes to you, your Highness.”

The heavy weight of guilt settles deep within your gut. You frown at him, feeling quite bad about the fact that he was sacrificing his own well being just because you couldn’t be trusted.

Because of your rebellious nature.

In this entire day, you’ve learned a few things about the Mandalorian. Mostly, that he’s attentive. He thinks, despite the lack of sleep you’ve caused him, that you’re kind. He knows about your ire with the Senator despite the mask you’ve carefully constructed around others… and he was able to decipher the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

Despite the fact that technically he was forced to be with you, he still cares enough to get to know little bits of you.

And you feel a deep desire to know him.

“I won’t be sneaking out in the middle of the night, I can assure you. I won’t be making that silly mistake again,” you try to assuage any doubts he had. You want him to rest.

His stance shifts apprehensively.

You take a few steps closer to him, ignoring the childish temptation to hold out your pinky finger.

“I promise,” you tell him genuinely. “Which is a big deal. I don’t tend to make those.”

And slowly, he seems to relax just a bit, his shoulders falling slightly from where they’d been standing tall. His hand leaving its usual spot on his belt. A small puff of air escaping the modulator of his helmet.

“Feel free to make this room your own,” you motion toward the settee which could expand into a decent sized bed.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You back up a few steps before spinning around and heading toward your bedroom, only stopping before the archway.

“I wish you a good night. Please do get some rest,” you say genuinely, loosening the ties that held your curtains apart. It separated your private chambers from the rest of your quarters.

“You too, Princess.” There’s a new warmth in his tone even the modulator couldn’t filter out.

Satisfaction blossoms in your chest.

A mischievous thought comes to mind, a perfect way to end your night.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to become a bit more acquainted now? Maybe take off your helmet?” You smirk, half joking.

You keep a cheeky smile on your face so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

Surprisingly… he gives you a warm chuckle, full bodied and his chest moves up and down.

You shake your head with a small laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks and ears. The small nerves that came with a new friendship rising in your tummy.

As you shut the curtains and climb into your bed giddily, you don’t fight the elated smile that’s been threatening to spread across your lips all evening.

And it’s only then that you realize how suggestive your comment might’ve sounded to the Mandalorian and you stare at the wall with wide embarrassed eyes. You try to dismiss the thought, hoping he didn’t think anything of it…

Just as you begin to doze off, the small click of beskar echoes from the antechamber, followed by a hiss and then an unfiltered sigh.

Your heart stops, clinging to the sound of your protector’s voice. Or rather the air leaving his lungs.

The raw sound of it sends a chill up your spine.

It replays in your head until you fall asleep.

don’t worry, pals. the next chapter is where the real drama starts. ;)

taglist:

@orcasoul @auberosier @mandoloriancookie @starstruckfluff @the-mandawhor1an @theetherealbloom @daisydrew1501 @karoneren @leothecat97 @almaeunice @a-neuromuscular-junction @jamesbuckyburns @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @the-simp-next-door

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otherwise, join the taglist here! ]

[bluebellhairpin]

[saynomorefic]

Shout out to all my biracials / biculturals / bilinguals who feel visible and represented thanks to Simon and Sara Eriksson

[wrath-of-the-sea]

the realization hurts. you're everything you never wanted to be. her opinions echo in your words to him. she has left her fingerprints on everything you say.

the realization hurts. you truly are just like your mother.

[thefrogdalorian]

I know the N-1 has received a pretty mixed reception since Din acquired it in TBOBF. I get the complaints that it's too small and doesn't feel like a home compared to the Razor Crest, but I personally love the design and how it shows off his piloting abilities.

And it gave us this angle...

*Ahem* ANYWAY...

After rewatching The Phantom Menace today, I couldn't help but think that a great replacement ship was there in Episode I the whole time! It has the homeliness of the Razor Crest and the sleekness/manoeuvrability of the N-1...

The Naboo Royal Starship!!!

Seriously look at that thing, it's beautiful. All shiny and with a similar design to the N-1.

Hear me out...

It has a huge cockpit. Perfect for plenty of father-son bonding activities and if Din needs some backup on a particularly tough mission.

Here are the blueprints, LOOK AT HOW MUCH SPACE IT HAS!!!

I'm noticing a table. Royal quarters... with a bunk. I mean, he probably wouldn't need most of the droid holds but if R5 sticks around, who knows!

It would be like an entire home on the go! And so graceful.... so slick...

I am obsessed with this ship... practical, stylish and shiny...

Much like the man himself....

Anyway, according to Wookieepedia, Vader eventually came into possession of the ship a few decades after the Invasion of Naboo. Which means it could have been out there at the same time as Din needed a new ship.

I think this would have been such a cool compromise, the best of both worlds if you like. A shiny new ship which also functions as a home... we could have had it all.

[cloudyysworld]

Dinluke! Red White and Royal blue au where Din is the Mandalor' and Luke is the prince consort of Naboo and also a Jedi knight and the attempt to make peace between Mandalore and the Jedi gone wrong because they accidentally get a big ass cake fall into them on Leia's wedding day

[lucilassie]

This is The Way. 🌌

[girlrandomstuff]

I love when Star Wars is Royal women falling for ordinary boys

Adding this cuz i really want to happen

[just2bubbly]

cannot hate anymore on RCB rn than I already am 🤧

[tightjeansjavi]

Bonus round for the Red Viper himself…

Let’s talk about that chiseled jawline, goddamn.

[floral-force]

Sleeping Bounty - Chapter 10

We Are One

din djarin x f!reader

summary: Din and his princess get their happy ending with a wedding fit for royalty.

words: 4.5k+

warnings/tags: this is just extremely fluffy and self-indulgent. my blog and works are 18+ always. good friend Greef Karga, nervous!din, Mando'a, cute wedding stuff bc i'm a sucker for it

a/n: this is the final chapter in din and his princess's story. hold on for the epilogue, though!

read on ao3 | series masterlist

previous | epilogue

You stood in front of the tri-fold mirror nestled in the corner of your bedchamber, the right pane ending where a marble post began its arch to the ceiling, dropping to the other side and outlining the inlet where a chaise sat in the morning sun. One of your chambermaids picked up the tiered tulle slip laid out on it, arranging it over the circular pedestal the other dragged over and positioned in the center of the mirror. They let you rest your hands on their shoulders as you stepped up and into the opening, giving them thanks when you stood straight and still. The women pulled the slip up until the high waistband sat perfectly on the natural pinch of your torso.  

Without delay, one kicked two wooden stepstools behind you while the other pushed the wearing your wedding dress mannequin over. They whispered to each other and smiled, their happiness deflating your anxiety a tiny bit. As they both worked at undoing the small buttons on the back, you tried to slow your quick pulse, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself. The air was cold and prickled your skin; you grounded yourself to that sensation, even if it was a little unpleasant. 

You gasped when you heard the door creaking open, but you and the chambermaids were relieved to see it was just Peli and your mother. The fairy flew over in a rush, her full blue dress bouncing with the sudden change of speed. Your mother was close behind, her rich purple dress taking a pearlescent sheen in the sunlight with each quick step. 

“Allow me,” Peli said, pushing her sleeves up a bit and waving her wand. 

The chambermaids gasped in awe when the dress lifted into the air, the full tulle skirt flowing out in a halo above you. Without instruction, you raised your arms and closed your eyes as the dress was slowly lowered over you. When you opened them again, the women helped you put your arms through the delicate tulle bishop sleeves before getting to work on buttoning the back up.

Peli floated behind your left shoulder and your mother stood on your right, both women dabbing tears off their cheeks with handkerchiefs. The chambermaids finished, and you thanked them profusely before they walked to the right and towards the vanity across the room. 

“Oh, Rose!” Peli clasped her hands and smiled with a quivering lip. “You look beautiful.”

“Absolutely beautiful,” your mother echoed, fingers absentmindedly smoothing the skirt of your dress. Her pointed golden crown glinted in the light when she tilted her head and smiled at you in the mirror. “You really outdid yourself, Peli.”

“It wasn’t all me. Your daughter was showing me how far she’s come in the art of making royal demands.”

You gasped and playfully threw your hand back at Peli with a scoff. Your mother chuckled. 

The dress really was perfect. Peli had met your expectations and then flew to the heavens with them. The ballgown silhouette was delicate but full from its pink-hued champagne tulle lining. A layer of white tulle embroidered with Chantilly lace floral appliqués that wisped up from the hem to the bodice gave it an ethereal feel. You hadn’t specified what flower to use among the leafy accents, leaving it up to Peli. Seeing the briar roses among the dainty, leafy vines confirmed your guess as to what she’d pick—and they were lovely.

You smiled at how the pointed Basque waistline and sweetheart neckline with its modest plunging illusion inset perfectly accented your figure; it had been Peli’s idea to include these things, and you were thankful you allowed her to. The bodice was embroidered with the same white floral appliqués adorning the skirt of your dress, a few trailing vines dripping down to the tulle skirt. The lace motif curled around to an open back, small satin buttons trailing down your spine at the point of its subtle v-line. The pattern curled around the top of your off-shoulder sleeves and few smaller iterations of the lace roses decorated the thin tulle, while the cuffs were completely wrapped in the pattern.

Peli nodded at you in the mirror and smiled. “Turn around.”

“Why?” you asked, slowly starting your path with gentle movements to the left her despite your suspicion.

She winked. “You’ll see.” 

She waved her wand, and you felt the back of your dress lift up. It was far easier for you to move, but you still did so with caution. She abruptly told you to stop when you’d almost made it around. Material dropped to the floor again with a light rustle, and you met Peli’s eyes. She tilted her head towards the mirror, and you looked over your shoulder to see a train of tulle flowing out behind you. It was speckled with the same lace motif and added to the dress’s delicate, feminine quality. The train was so long that it was spilling up against the mirror; your mother had had to take a few steps back and into the sunlight spewing through the inlet’s large window. 

“Oh, Peli!” Your mother sighed, teary eyes trailing up from the embroidered train to meet yours, then to the fairy’s. “It’s going to look marvelous at the ceremony.”

You nodded in agreement. Tears you didn’t know had formed trailed down your cheeks. “Thank you, Aunt Peli.” You sniffed, taking her small hands in yours, voice wavering when you spoke again. “Thank you for everything.”

She didn’t need to say anything, and you didn’t expect her to. Your aunt had done so much for you, including bringing your beskar-clad fiancé to you—even if that was an accident. Peli pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you softly laughed when tears fell down her face to match yours. She shook her head and flew back a bit as she dabbed her cheeks dry.

“Goodness!” She exclaimed with a sniff. “I’m gonna waste all of my tears now and look like a mean old hag at the ceremony when everyone else is crying and I’m not.”

“You might not be alone,” your mother suggested after you had all finished laughing.

You went to turn and face the mirror again, Peli lifting the train with her wand so you could move and ask, “You don’t think the ki—er, father will cry?” You bit your bottom lip at your mistake; calling your parents by their titles was a reflex that you may always be chipping away at. 

She shrugged, crossing her arms. “He may. I can count on both hands the number of times he’s cried. One of which being the night we…” Your mother trailed off and her face was suddenly painted with sadness. She took a deep breath and looked back up at you, shaking her head and softly smiling again. “Who knows? Maybe his daughter’s wedding will make him shed a tear or two.”

“Who knows!” Peli exclaimed from the other side of the room, your heads turning.

She was flying behind the chambermaids as they approached you, one of them holding a dark wooden box. It looked long and deep enough to hold a bushel of the crabapples that grew near the cottage you found yourself missing the past few months. The thought made your heart heavy for only a moment. You bit the inside of your cheek and fiddled with the diamond ring on your left hand. This was supposed to be a happy day; you couldn’t linger on your blue nostalgia. 

When the women stopped a few feet away from you, your mother gently took the box with a nod, clutching it in her hands. The other held your shoes—a pair of clean, white satin heels—in her hands, waiting expectantly at Peli’s side. When Peli waved her wand and raised the front hem of your dress enough to reveal your feet, covered in thin, white stockings, the chambermaid crouched down and helped you slowly step into the oddly comfortable heels, smiling with you when you wobbled. You thanked her and steadied yourself; Peli took that as her cue to fix your hair with a swirl of her wand. The other chambermaid returned and started to add a little makeup to your face—enough to accent your features and match your dress’s soft, romantic look.

When it was all finished, your mother stepped to your side and exhaled, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were glassy as she looked at you in the mirror, a rogue tear slipping down her cheek. If you weren’t wearing makeup, you’d tear up too. She stepped in front of you and took a shaky breath, saying your name three times as if she was reciting the end of an incantation.

“I want to give you this to wear.” 

One of the maids brought over a small table, and your mother set the box down, her thumbs flicking two tarnished latches up. She kept the box closed and bit her lip. Her fingers traced over the intricate carvings of vines and leaves, fingernails catching on deep ridges. Your mother shook her head and chuckled to herself.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting a Mandalorian to give you back to us. Seeing you next to him—” her eyebrows knitted together— “I thought he’d taken you captive from Phillip and was going to hold you for ransom. Use our pain against us. If it weren’t for Peli’s testimony, I think Stefan would’ve had him hauled away. And if he hadn’t, I certainly would have.” 

You could only listen and try to process what she was saying and why she’d chosen to confess her hesitancy and dislike of Din today. She looked up at your confused face. A gentle expression washed over her. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for my grave misjudgment. After seeing how he behaves around you, how he treats you…I think—no, I know he’s an honorable man.” 

Your mother lifted the lid of the box, and you got a glimpse of a small, oblong package resting on top of something else, both hidden under brown paper. She gingerly started to unwrap the smaller item with the chambermaids’ help, and you gasped when you saw a fringe tiara, its dainty spikes of diamonds sparkling in the light. The brown paper was pulled back and carefully unwrapped to reveal a delicate two-layered veil; your mother had it draped over her arms and you saw the intricate lace embroidery around the edges of it. 

“I wore this on my wedding day,” she said, meeting your eyes again. “I want you to wear it for yours.”

You could only grin at her and choke back a sentimental sob. She walked behind you and Peli followed her with a gentle hold on end of the veil. Your mother gently placed the tiara on the crown of your head, making sure it was in the correct position. It was heavy on your head, forcing you to stand as straight as possible; Din would probably tease you for it later. Peli flew over you to drape the blusher over you, the thin material reaching your fingertips. All four women in the room looked at you in the mirror, smiling and sighing. Your mother wiped a few tears off her face. You almost shed a tear yourself, but Peli gently tapped your bicep and joked that you’d ruin your makeup.

The collective adoration ended when there was a sharp rapping on the door. 

“Your carriage awaits, Your Majesties!” A man declared.

Your aunt and mother turned away from the mirror and looked at you. Your mother took your hands in hers and squeezed as she said your name.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

You nodded. “I am.”

Din stood outside the ballroom’s heavy oak doors, shifting his feet and fidgeting with his thumb. Seeing so many kriffing people filing in for his wedding had put him on edge. He’d expected their stares and whispers, but it affected him more than those reactions usually did. Not only that, but he was also doing the unthinkable—he’d left his weapons in his room after his fiancée begged him to, saying her father was uneasy about how it might affect their relations with the kingdom’s subjects. She told him that she hated it as much as he did, but she implored him to do this for her. Weapons were his religion, but she was his goddess, and he would always do her bidding. Thank the Maker the king had told him a few days ago that he could keep the darksaber on his hip. 

Greef Karga stood at his side and nudged him with his elbow. Din looked at him and saw the man’s concerned expression.

“Mando, relax,” he urged.

“How am I supposed to relax without my blasters?” Din snapped. He dropped his visor to the ground, nudging the toe of his boot against a crack in the stone. He sighed and clenched his fists. “I’m just…”

When he trailed off, Greef hummed with a smug realization. “The great Mandalorian bounty hunter, best in the Guild and a dragon slayer,” he teased, earning a snap of Din’s helmet in his direction, “is afraid.”

Din’s hands slapped against the side of his thighs, and he groaned. Under the helmet, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment, the tips of his ears burning. Leave it to Greef to see right through him and make him squirm. Din had come to consider the man a friend over the years, and he immediately knew he’d have Greef at his side for the wedding. Of course, the man gave him a wide grin and clapped Din on the arm and then nearly choked on his spotchka when Din told him who his soon-to-be spouse was. He’d also finally told Greef his name; it was only appropriate since he’d agreed to be the best man at his wedding.

“You know, it’s not a bad thing to be nervous, Din.”

Din exhaled, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He hung his helmet down and shrugged. The beskar felt heavier than it ever had before. 

He looked at his friend. “I don’t even feel this way when someone’s holding vibroblade against my throat, or when I’m in unarmed in a fight against people who are.”

Greef gave him an understanding smile. “Feeling nervous just means you care.”

Din paused, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

The two men stood next to each other in silence, Din’s thoughts moving at hyperspeed. He had only just managed to capture one when Greef nudged him. Din followed where Greef jerked his head and saw the group of people walking up the wide stone steps to the doors. He saw their carriage drive away as the officiant reached the door, King Stefan and Queen Leah right behind him. 

Din had breathed a sigh of relief when his princess told him there’d be no religion involved. She told him he could have another Mandalorian come and say their marriage rites alongside the royal officiant if he wanted. Din had refused; the covert had to stay hidden. Instead, he paid a visit to the Armorer and left her tasked with only one thing that he had to do.

The queen gave him a soft smile, her right arm hooked through Stefan’s left. She motioned for Din to walk over, and he did with shaking knees. They were both lavishly dressed; the queen wore a cape made of golden brocade while the king’s long tunic matched his wife’s purple satin dress, a black cloak with an intricate gold jacquard pattern all over it trailing over his shoulders. Stefan extended his hand and Din shook it. Din was thankful for this distraction from his anxiety, even if it made him feel a bit awkward. 

“Din,” the queen said, “I noticed you don’t have any family with you.”

“Just Greef Karga, my…friend.” It was still such a foreign word to him. “The Mandalorian covert I belong to needs to stay hidden.”

“Even for your wedding?” Stefan raised an eyebrow. 

“I can’t risk my covert. This is The Way.”

Leah sharply inhaled, her brow furrowing in thought as she looked up at Stefan. “If my husband is fine with it—” she gave Din a tender smile— “I’d like to walk down the aisle with you.”

Din waved his hands. “No, that isn’t—”

“Stefan is walking our daughter down the aisle,” she interjected. “I’d just be alone.” 

They both looked at him expectantly. Stefan raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Now he knew where his bride got her stubbornness from. 

Din shook his head and shrugged. “Alright.”

“Good man.” Stefan commented, the threatening demeanor melting away. He kissed Leah’s hand, giving her a warm smile.

Leah walked in front of her husband and Din offered his bent left arm for her to take. She gently guided him to stand off to the right of the doors where they’d be hidden from view when they opened. The officiant directed everyone, her voice commanding and urgent. It reminded him of the Armorer and helped his body and brain settle a bit more. An usher stood across from the wedding party, presumably to direct them inside. Greef shook Din’s shoulder, making him turn around. He couldn’t help but smile at Greef’s encouraging grin, feeling a bit more at ease. Maybe having a friend wasn’t all that bad.

The sound of the doors creaking open into the cathedral made Din’s stomach turn. The officiant walked in immediately after the first note of the opening flourish to what Din assumed was a processional. Not long after, Din walked forward with the queen, his hands clammy under his gloves. The usher motioned them to turn and walk, and Din nearly swore when he saw how far away the altar was. He could barely process anything after he took his first step onto the white carpet running down the altar the officiant was now walking up a few steps to. He kept his eyes straight ahead and focused on the waiting officiant, Leah’s hand occasionally giving the exposed part of his forearm a reassuring squeeze. The music filled his ears and covered the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears. When they reached the base of the four steps leading to the altar, she turned to Din and took his hand in hers, giving him that soft smile his princess gave him. 

Din took his place on the right side of the altar, his shaky breaths adding a layer to the music only he could hear. He watched Greef walk down the aisle to prevent his eyes from darting around the crowd. He nodded when his friend took his place at Din’s left side. The processional had become louder, its majestic melody crashing into his bones. Right as strings began to twirl up a scale, a crescendo building, he saw her step into the cathedral.

There was shuffling as the crowd stood and gasps of awe speckling the most triumphant iteration of the melody yet as she walked down the aisle towards him. He felt his throat burn and his eyes tear up, threatening to spill down his cheeks the closer she got. Her dress was soft and highlighted the curves he loved to hold, the color of the fabric perfect on her skin. As she got closer, he noticed the dainty lace flowers on her skirt. He assumed the pattern was also on her sleeves, but he was too focused on her gorgeous shoulders and collarbones to really care about her sleeves. Peli flew behind her, low to the floor, gently grasping her dress’s lengthy train in her tiny hands, but the way it splayed out perfectly behind his bride with little effort from Peli made him think she’d used a little magic, too. His bride’s lips were painted with an affectionate smile that made his heart swell, even if it was muted under a thin veil. The bouquet in her hand was full of white roses, thin, light green strands of tiny leaves spraying down the front and sides. Din swallowed and drank her in, committing the moment to his memory. 

As the processional neared its end, Din hurriedly took his gloves off and shoved them in his belt, swearing to himself for nearly forgetting; he’d just been hypnotized by her. She ascended the steps with Stefan, stopping on the last one before the altar. He gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek and placed her right hand in Din’s open left palm. 

“Take good care of her,” Stefan said with teary eyes.

Din nodded and Stefan walked back to sit next to Leah. Din and held onto her fingers as she stepped up to the altar and took her place across from him with a nervous smile. Peli quickly splayed out the long train of her dress and veil behind her down the stairs to show off its intricate embroidery, then flew over to take her bouquet before taking her place floating behind his bride. Rustling filled the air after the orchestra’s final note dissipated into the cathedral’s vaulted ceiling, and it was finally time to begin.

The sound of the officiant’s voice faded into the background as he stared at her, his chest warm and knees weak. The tiara she was wearing pointed up under the veil, and he felt a beatific smile split his lips into a grin. Her eyes searched his visor, her face radiant and brightening the room despite the veil. Not sleep nor tulle could dim her glow. She must have sensed his anxiety, because she took his other hand in hers and gave them both a squeeze. It instantly soothed him.

“It’s alright Din,” she whispered under the officiant’s booming voice. “Just breathe, baby.”

He wished she could see the way her words made him melt, how her voice alone forced every iota of tension out of his body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered back, his throat dry and voice wavering. 

It was all he could manage, but at least his compliment made her smile even wider. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side as she did, then opened her eyes after a few seconds and stared straight into his. Din loved making her flustered just so he could see her cute reaction.

He barely registered anything that didn’t involve him directly touching or speaking to her. All he could see was her. All he could feel was her hands—they were clammy, making him feel better about his sweaty ones. All he could do was stare and let his eyes wander over her so he could sear this moment into his brain and see it clearly for the rest of his life. Din’s heart hammered in his ears as he responded to the vows—saying “I do” just as he’d practiced—and it soared into the sky when she echoed his words. 

The officiant looked at Din, flipping a page in her leather-covered book. She cleared her throat before announcing both of their full names.

She continued, “You will now recite the Mandalorian vow together.”

His mouth was suddenly drier than the sands of Tatooine. Din took a deep breath and squeezed her fingers, focusing on her soft smile. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

Din swallowed the thick lump in his throat, his eyes tearing up. The meaning of those words sunk into his soul, lifting it up to the sky with joy at the same time. The Armorer had told him it translated to “We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.” He had never felt more certain of something in his life; he meant every word, and his gut told him that she did too.

His chest also swelled with pride; his perfect princess had spoken the Mando’a vow as if she’d been speaking the language her whole life. And somehow, they’d said it in almost perfect unison. Every time they’d practiced—and even at the rehearsal—the timing had been off. The stars must have aligned so this day would go perfectly for them. 

When they were given the wedding rings to exchange, Din suddenly felt self-conscious about his hands, and he remembered how large of a crowd had gathered in the massive cathedral. Her magical touch made him forget about it all; her gentle fingers and concentrated eyes grounded him as she slipped the black obsidian band on his ring finger. Her voice was solid and proud as she repeated the officiant’s words for the ring exchange. His hands were shaking as he did the same with her thin, modest band and then the diamond ring he'd proposed to her with. Din hoped his voice wasn’t wavering too much as he spoke. He relaxed when he noticed her chest tremble with a suppressed giggle as he made sure the stone sat perfectly on her finger; she’d told him that she thought his perfectionism was endearing a while ago. 

After his last word, he realized the ceremony was over—but there was one last thing to do.

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Din’s shaking hands gently lifted her veil and let it fall back behind her tiara, revealing her face and letting the tiara finally sparkle. She was even more beautiful now without the thin material obstructing his view. She was beaming up at him, her eyes sparkling as much as the tiara’s diamonds. Din bent his head forward and gingerly cupped her jaw in his hands as she placed hers on the side of his helmet, meeting his beskar forehead with her smooth one. 

As the crowd cheered and the orchestra began playing a majestic recessional, Din pulled back and turned to face the doors, his princess doing the same. She waved down at her parents, then took her bouquet back from Peli before the fairy quickly took hold of the train and waved her wand to gently lift it mere inches off the ground. Din looked at his wife, offering his open hand; she gently bent her fingers over his, smiling when his fingers curled over hers.

As they made their way down the aisle to jubilant applause, she gave him a quick, smug glance. “I told you it would painless.”

“I think our definitions of pain are very different.”

She rolled her eyes and giggled, and Din clicked his tongue. “Careful, princess, or I’m taking you on a jet pack ride out of here.”

“Thank the Force our carriage is here,” she said as their feet tapped onto the stone steps outside, “because I’d wish you well on that solo flight and meet you in the ballroom for the reception.”

“My wife is so loving,” Din deadpanned.

“And my husband thinks he’s funny,” she retorted with a playful smile. 

Din shook his head and held her hand as she stepped into the open-top carriage, waving to the crowd gathered across from the cathedral. Once they were both seated, Din took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes fell on his visor, cheeks split with joy.

“I love you, mesh’la.”

“I love you too, Din.”

The carriage sped off for the castle, a new life waiting for them.

previous | epilogue

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[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

DIN DJARIN X F!ROYAL!READER [SERIES]

summary: tensions rise as the princess of the dystopian planet eiria finally approaches the age in which she will take the throne. despite her reluctance, she finds herself under the protection of the infamous mandalorian.

warnings: female reader, given surname, implied hair length (medium to long), little mandalorian content but that’ll change in the next chapter, world building, time jumps, elusiveness (for plot development), unedited so beware

series masterlist!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚. i. a stranger in my room *ੈ✩‧₊˚.

Long before the fall of the Jedi Order, there'd been peace. Harmony amongst those who made their way in the galaxy. Tranquility and above all, happiness.

Even in these times, Eiria was such place that many people could only dream of. A planet so ethereal and utopian it was a wonder that it truly existed.

Luscious greenery covered its surface, slipping through the cracks and edges of its magnificent buildings, built on a foundation of gold. Technologically advanced in its own right, humble and simple where it mattered.

Technology was only used to ensure the safety of its citizens, otherwise Eiria was a world untouched by the horrors of the galaxy. Kept safe by its council of leaders that had been appointed and passed down along the generations.

It hadn't always been led by this council. No, Eiria was a royal world. Since its first taste of civilization, the hand of a ruler had governed the lands...

But when the former king and queen fell ill to a sickness that had wiped out over a quarter of Eiria's population over ten years ago, the leadership of the planet had fallen onto the shoulders of a council that had existed long before their reign.

All left from their rule, besides the sparkling scenery and magnificent buildings they'd had built overtime, was their daughter.

She'd been spared from the wicked disease that had claimed the lives of her parents, taken under the wing of her father's closest friend and advisor, Senator Phex Dameron.

The Princess was as stubborn as she was loyal, dedicated to her people until her last breath, a weight on her shoulders since the moment she was born. Thrust upon her the crushing responsibility of royalty, only to be spared her teenage years and emerging adulthood.

Every day, she thanked the maker that her parents had decreed she wouldn't take the throne until she had reached twenty one cycles — even if it was solely to secure that the throne would remain in their families for cycles to come. You see, a leader could be challenged if they were deemed too young to take the throne. To avoid that from happening, the King and Queen had signed into law that should need arise, the Council would take over all governing responsibilities and otherwise until the Princess was of suitable age.

At just twenty cycles old, the last Altair was on the dawn of a new age...

But along with it, came the danger.

The Princess of Eiria stares ahead, cold and calculating, teeth gritted together, seething beneath the carefully constructed surface, and swears that one day she will never have to answer to anyone again.

Before you, a panel of men, women and creatures alike, watching you with those greedy, overbearing eyes. It's not you that wears a mask, it's them. With their false pretenses, the caring acts behind worried gazes.

They don't care about you. They care about the wealth. The riches. Getting in the good graces of the Senator.

You expect he'll be elected any day now. It's only a matter of time and until then, and even after, the Council will put on those infuriating masks.

The Senator stares at you without the mask. In fact, there's no expression on his face at all. Except for the hint of pity you sense from his body language. You've known him too long to not see it right away.

A twinge of annoyance hits you. This is partly his fault-- what pity could he be feeling?

You should probably speak now. Not to the Council or to the Senator. But to him.

As angry as you were, he was only here to do his job. You'd do your best to keep him out of your path of fury.

You politely tell him your name, though it's not needed, and thank him for accepting the Senator's offer of serving as your protector.

After all, the Mandalorian will be following your every step from now on. It's best to be on civil terms for both your sanities.

You ignore everyone else in the Council Chamber.

The Mandalorian gives one curt nod.

Normally, you'd be irked by his silence but in this moment, you're grateful for it. You spin toward the door, guarded by two Jedi knights the Senator had sent for.

You bite the inside of your cheek and stride for the exit.

"Sunshine," it's the Senator. You stop. "It's for the best. You'll thank me in the future."

You don't turn around. Heavy footsteps follow behind you.

You doubt it.

It's been exactly three days since your world was further more flipped on its axis.

The remnants of grief over your recent loss had been overshadowed by the irritation you felt over the presence of the Mandalorian.

It isn't his fault. You constantly try to remind yourself, even as you furiously glare at the stupid tin helmet that rests over his head. He's just doing his job and you're not making it any easier.

It was on day three that you made this realization.

"I'm sorry if I've been... cold towards you. We’ve barely said a word since we’ve met.”

“Don’t apologize,” his raspy modulator replies stoicly. “Socializing isn’t exactly in the job description.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and glare at your own reflection in the vanity mirror you sit before. The reminder that your only regular company, other than the Senator, was here by obligation sours your attempt to befriend the Mandalorian.

“Right. Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed your silent shadow hovering over me for the past seventy-two hours, I highly doubt watching me every waking second is in your job description either.”

He stays silent, despite your bait.

You have no problem going on, combing your hair absentmindedly. “Perhaps you should be doing other things. Surely the rest of the castle requires some sort of surveillance. The Council would pay handsomely.”

“My job here is strictly to keep you under my protection, Princess.”

Your lip curls slightly. “Well, as you can see the windows are shut, my balcony bolted and the biggest threat to me at the moment is tangling my hair in this brush. So I would kindly request that your services extend to the exterior of my quarters please. I’d like some privacy please.”

You’re trying to be as polite as possible. You really are, but there’s only so much stoic silence from a metal man hovering in one of the corners of every room you enter that you could take.

All your life you’d been as independent as a member of the royal family could be. The Senator had made sure of that— and it was partly the reason you were still so angry with him over this arrangement. So going from that to this, it was not going well for you. Not at all. Especially since your new stalker didn’t seem to make any noises or speak any words beside ‘yes’, ‘no’, or some bullshit answer to any specific question you’d ask. But only if it was job-related, otherwise, he was an unmoving, nonverbal statue.

Three days with the Mandalorian and you were beginning to absolutely despise his beskar helmet and the nonexistent sense of security the Council had believed he’d bring.

This was all done for their benefit. Not yours.

You didn’t need protection before and you certainly don’t need it now. He served no purpose but to make you uncomfortable under his unbreaking gaze.

“I will be right outside the door, your Highness.”

Your eyes jolt up to him in pure surprise. You had been expecting the usual silence, for him to ignore your request as he did all the other times you’d told him you didn’t require his unwavering surveillance.

Maybe the fact that you’d pointed out every single enter and exit strategy finally convinced him, but you couldn’t know for sure. Not with that obscure helmet.

You dismiss your thoughts and almost catch yourself beaming at his reflection in the corner of your room. “Thanks,” you breathe, opting for a smaller smile, filled with gratitude.

He nods once and then leaves.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

The first thought that crosses your mind is one you dismiss just as quickly as it arose. The small traces of adolescence that cling on to you tempt you to sneak away from the Mandalorian. Break the rules. See how far you could run before he caught up to you.

But you dismiss it. Because you’re loyal to your people and you know why he’s here despite you not agreeing to all the dramatics.

The Senator claims this is all for your protection. That coming of age and taking the throne would likely bring danger as those who wished to rule the throne would start creeping out of the hiding places they’d taken residence in since the death of your parents.

But it itches beneath your skin the longer you gaze over at the crack under your bedroom door, the shadow of his feet unmoving and steady.

You could run. Make a little game out of it. See if he’s really as qualified as Senator Dameron says he is.

You sigh quietly and set the brush down very slowly. Your heart pounds in anticipation, a plan forming in your mind.

As quickly and stealthily as possible, you slip out of your casual gown into a pair of very unladylike trousers and a tunic that you laced up tightly.

You brainstorm different ways to make your exit. Maybe you could cough or somehow force a sneeze? Some way to let your Mandalorian know you were still unsuspiciously lounging in your quarters.

You decide against it, instead doing your best to unlock your windows without making so much as a creak. Surprisingly, it’s not all too difficult.

The window swings open, both panels nearly knocking into the stone exterior of the castle but you lunge forward to grab onto them. Your momentum drives you forward with more eagerness than you intended, your feet flying from the floor, tipping out into the evening dusk with the ghost of a scream on your lips.

Something pulls you back at the feet.

Your body remains suspended, hands clutching onto the panels white-knuckled. You quickly toss a glance behind you, fully expecting to see your bodyguard standing there with his stupid beskar staring disappointedly at you.

By the sheer grace of the Maker, there’s no one behind you at all.

The only thing that saved you from plummeting to your death was your pesky iron dresser, the one that had those decorative swirls that you often knocked your ankle against.

On it, the hem of your surprisingly sturdy trousers, which were beginning to rip at the seams the longer you stood there hanging like an idiot.

Quickly, you toss yourself back to safety, freeing your hem and sheathing your small dagger you kept under your pillow. When suddenly you hear a shuffle against the door and you freeze.

Your eyes are trained on the shadow under the crack of your door. It’s the Mandalorian, thankfully just readjusting his stance.

Deciding there’s no more time to lose, you drag a hidden rope you had tied to one of the posts under your bed from your younger adventures, and carefully climb out of your window. All the while hoping the Mandalorian wouldn’t decide to check in on you at that exact moment.

As soon as your feet touch the floor, you’re off, leaving the rope and your quarters in the dust.

An elated laugh escapes you. It feels like you’re floating over the stone pavement, more free than you’ve been since before you were orphaned.

It gives you a head rush, this thrill, knowing you’re breaking every rule in the book — for the Royal Princess of Eiria was not to wander the streets unattended, much less when the sun was falling below the horizon. Senator Dameron would probably burst a blood vessel if he saw you now.

After a few minutes of aimless sprinting, you begin to see the outline of the city, lit by its posts and the torches held by the knights on guard. You eye them, trying to figure out how to get past undetected.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of hoofs against the damp grass and the panic sends you flying into a nearby bush.

Your hair gets caught, a few thorns digging into your skin, one catching onto the skin of your cheek.

“Ugh,” you complain quietly.

Between the foliage, you begin to make out the figure upon the approaching horse.

“Gwaine!”

You smile in relief, your pounding heart beginning to settle back into your heaving chest. Gwaine is one of the few people you trust within the city walls, having known him since he was a boy. He is the blacksmith’s son, currently serving as his apprentice.

You spring out of the bush, startling Gwaine’s horse but he quickly reigned her back in.

“My lady,” he nods with an amused look.

You stand awkwardly for a moment, knowing you probably looked like a disaster.

Gwaine motions towards his own hair, near his ear. “You’ve got…”

“Oh!” You quickly snatch a leaf out of your locks. “Thanks.”

He eyes you, scanning your disheveled appearance from head to toe, before looking over at the patrolling guards and then back at you.

“Do you require some sort of… uh- assistance, my lady?” He asks as if he doesn’t want to know what you’re up to this time.

Poor Gwaine. One way or another you’d always managed to drag him into your various schemes over the years. But you’d never let him take the fall for any of your antics. Never.

Doesn’t stop him from fearing the day he’d once again see you with that same mischievous, faux innocence on your face. Which was more often than you cared to admit.

He knew your look of trouble like the back of his hand.

You jolt in realization and look past him, searching for any sign of the Mandalorian.

“You know,” you sigh a little dramatically once you realize the coast is pretty much clear. “I really shouldn’t drag you into affairs of the royal family. I’ll just leave you be—”

“What is it?” He cuts through the bullshit.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve taken the liberty of paroozing the sights of the city tonight, Gwaine.”

“We both know full well you have no liberty of ‘paroozing the city’ at this hour, your Highness.”

You try to hide your flinch.

“What’s with the formalities, Gwaine?” you divert. “Would it kill you to say my name for once?”

“Eh— might.”

You follow his line of sight to the guards that were stationed across the town square.

“You’re my friend. You can address me by my name, Gwaine.”

“You sure say my name a lot,” he says cheekily. Letting up his usual formalities. You feel relieved, giving him an easy smile. It was always like this with him— he’d address you by title, do everything by the book, and you’d have to slowly break him down until he accepts that you’re his friend. Not just the Princess. Years of conditioning made him that way you guess.

“It’s a mighty fine name,” you grin.

“Why thanks.”

His horse neighs suddenly. You both snap into reality.

“Seriously, Squeak. What’re you doing outside the castle? Aren’t you under strict vigilance right now?”

Squeak. It’s his nickname he’d given you ever since you had convinced him to help you climb to the roof of the stables when you were both small children. You were convinced you could fly (‘just like a bird!’ is what you’d told him) and jumped off to prove it. Needless to say, you were very thankful there had been a comfortable amount of hay on the ground below. Since that day, Gwaine began to call you ‘Squeak’ because you had screeched just like a bird when you landed face first in the hay.

“You heard?”

“The whole kingdom heard. A Mandalorian around these parts is rare. You mustn’t be alone when the Senator has gone to such extreme lengths to have you protected.”

Protected, your ass. Where was the Mandalorian now?

“I’m not alone,” you reply. “I’m with you.”

Gwaine purses his lips and gives you a half-hearted glare. Knowing in his heart, he couldn’t leave you alone now even if he wanted to. You’d just ensnared him in a royal duty whether you meant to or not.

“Nyla, settle down,” he murmured softly to his horse, as she began to get antsy from meandering around for too long. He looked back at you. “Well, are we going to stand here and wait to be caught?”

You give him a quizzical look.

“Well, you must’ve snuck out, haven’t you? I don’t see the Mandalorian around.”

But he’d surely be around if you kept standing here all evening.

You hustle over to Nyla, taking Gwaine’s outstretched hand and hauling yourself up behind him. Securing your arms around his middle, you smile softly at the familiarity.

“Where to, Princess?” He murmurs.

“Beyond the city walls, the abandoned watch tower.”

chapter 2 >>

masterlist!

add yourself to the taglist!

[aimeelouart]

For you, Titus-loving anon

[armoralor]

I love the idea of Aro/Ace Din, and I’ve also been thinking about how sweet a T4T relationship would be. Bo-Katan and Din reminding each other to take their testosterone/estrogen shots, marveling over how quick the Armorer can adjust kits to be gender affirming, helping a young mandalorian from the covert get the healthcare they need. Trans Din Djarin and Trans Bo-Katan Kryze, I love you ❤️

[authortobenamedlater]

Sabezra DinBo Solidarity Week Day 1

The fics I have been b*tching about for the last two months can finally come out to play.

This is my debut Rebels fic!

This is a long-dormant MRR story, the first of many for this challenge that got a bit out of hand.

Are they on a mission? Are they on a date? Is the date a mission? Is the mission a date? Does anyone involved even have clue enough to know????

These are not beta-read, barely edited enough to be suitable for the public. As I said, I make no promises for quality but I do promise enthusiasm.

@jedi-nurse @starryfictionalgirl @sassygirl579 Anyone else who wants to be tagged in my Sabezra DinBo posts let me know.