#Din: no of course not but have you seen my son

[beskarandblasters]

Me and My Husband

Chapter Nine: I’m Sorry I’m the One You Love

Married!Din Djarin x F!Reader

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Synopsis: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, set post season 3, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), some liberties taken with Mandalorian culture/weddings/marriages, infidelity, eventual smut (starts at chapter two!), switches between Reader and Din's POV, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Where it all comes crashing down.

Word count: 1.9k

Chapter warnings: angst lol

You

It’s been only a handful of rotations since you’ve seen Din. This is the most you’ve missed him since being apart. Ever since your time on Aldhani together, you’ve never felt more connected to him. Stars, you’ve even told people about him. Not just random people but Lumya and Del. You mainly told Lumya because maybe now she’ll finally get the hint that you don’t need to be set up on random blind dates anymore. And of course, you told Del. She already knew about him vaguely when you told her you were going to Nevarro with him. But that’s all she knew about him, that he was just some mystery man who whisked you away off the planet. You brought her up to speed now about everything, who he is, where he’s from… his wife. That part made Del concerned, but that was to be expected. Del’s like a mother to you. But when you finished telling her about him all she said was, “It seems like you really love him but you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear. I'd hate to see you get hurt.” 

It’s true. You’ve fallen for him hard, but after what he told you about his wife, about Mandalorian marriages, you’ve had to ask yourself; Is this what you want? To be bound to a man who’s never going to be completely committed to you and only you?

The lovesick part of you wants to latch onto him and hope he’ll change. The cynical part of you reminds you that he probably won’t but the lovesick side of you is louder, incessant even. 

He loves you. He’s yours. You’re his. It’s as sure as every star illuminating the galaxy. As sure as the sun setting and the night sky permeating the atmosphere with its infinite darkness. 

…Right?

You throw your bag over your shoulder and get ready to leave for the library, hoping to read about some other far-off place you and Din can go to together. 

And that’s exactly what you do. You sit in your usual corner in the library, bouncing between reading physical books and digital ones on the library’s data pad. This time you’re reading about Tatooine. You know Din’s already been there from the stories he’s told you. You can’t imagine it’s actually enjoyable for him, being on that hot, sand-ridden planet under all that beskar. But you would love to see that binary sunset someday. Maybe with some convincing, he’ll take you there. Or even Coruscant. The capital of the galaxy is a must-do for any new traveler. 

You spend Maker knows how long in there, finalizing a travel wish list before deciding to head back home. It’s time to gear up for another night of loneliness. You think about Din and what he’s doing now. Maybe he’s off chasing after another bounty. Maybe he’s home eating dinner with his son and his wife… Maybe he’s having sex with his wife. The thought of that makes your stomach threaten to empty its contents right here on the street. He said they didn’t do that, though. So there’s a chance that’s not what he’s doing at this exact moment. But that’s also kind of messed up, that him having sex with his own wife makes your stomach turn. She would feel the same way if only she knew about the nights you and Din spent together, the way he made your body shake with pleasure and the most sincere words of love and affirmation he showers you with. If you were in her shoes, it would kill you to know that your husband doesn’t feel that way about you, but instead some random woman on another planet across the galaxy. 

As you turn onto your street, Din’s there, resting against the building like he was waiting for you. You’re a bit taken aback at first. You didn’t expect to see him so soon. Not that you’re not happy to see him. You’re always happy to see him. But something about his body language is setting you off. Even without seeing his face and under all the armor you can read him like a book. The anticipation swirls in your stomach. 

“Ca’tra…” he trails off in an uneasy tone, like he’s about to tell you something terrible and it’s on the tip of his tongue, the words threatening to break loose and cut you like a knife. 

“…Yes?” you ask, adding a hopeful, sing-songy tone in your voice to try and cut some of the tension. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says. 

“Okay… Do you want to go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?” you respond, trying to keep cool as your stomach sinks. 

“Back to the Crest.”

“Of course,” you nod, but he doesn’t even really wait for a response, turning and heading towards the outskirts of Theed as you follow him. 

His stance is stuff and his hands keep clenching and unclenching at his sides. You’re fearing the worst; that his wife went psycho on him, that he’s here to tell you he can never see you again, that he’s going to try to patch things up with her. The world and its elements distort around you, voices and sounds drowning out into a monotonous white noise. Your palms grow sweaty and your feet feel like they’re a thousand pounds each. It feels like you’re walking headfirst into your greatest fear, that your true blue love is about to leave you and travel back home across the galaxy, never to be seen by you again. 

The stone streets eventually turn into a grassy field beneath your feet. It's a beautiful day, the sun beaming down and bouncing off of Din’s armor and the breeze making his cape billow in the wind. The Razor Crest is perched at the bottom of a hill in the distance; a sight that normally means you’re about to go on a great adventure together. But today it signifies something else. 

He takes you inside the Crest, leading you up the ramp. He closes it once you’re both inside, making sure it’s completely locked like he did on Aldhani, before turning and walking towards you slowly. 

“Din, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not… I’m not trying to.”

“Well, what is it?”

A pause. He lifts his helmet off his head, setting it down on a crate beside him. You’re flooded with the memory of the last time he took off his helmet in front of you, the first and only other time. But the memory is washed away quickly when you look at the state of his face; a weathered, defeated look, his eyes swollen and red. You open your mouth to ask what’s going on again but he speaks first. 

“I lost everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“I’m an apostate again.”

“...What happened?”

“May must’ve had her suspicions… because when I returned to Mandalore I was questioned by the Armorer.”

“Who?”

“She’s a well-respected leader of the Children of the Watch.”

“Okay…”

“And when she asked me if I had broken the terms of my riduurok I could not lie.” 

“So she declared you an apostate again?”

“Permanently.”

Permanently. Maker, he must be lost right now. A pit opens up in your heart for him but there’s also a nagging, almost selfish voice in the back of your mind. 

Can’t you two finally be together now?

If he loved you as much as he said he did, wouldn’t you be enough to save him from the pits of despair? Isn’t your love enough to keep him from spiraling out of control? 

“Din…” you say softly, mentally bracing yourself for what you’re about to suggest. You take a deep breath before asking in a small and delicate voice,  “Can’t we be together now?” 

He doesn’t say anything, a specific look consuming his face, a look that you can’t quite determine what it’s trying to convey.

And then it hits you. It’s almost as if he’s looking at a wounded animal; a wounded animal who’s holding onto hope and he’s about to put it out of its misery. 

“Without my creed, I am nothing.”

“...Not even if you have me?”

He says nothing and his silence enrages you. He thinks he can come into your life and make a mess, blaming it all on his creed. But what about you? What about the life he meddled with just because he was unhappy with his own life? That’s not fair to you. 

He doesn’t need to answer. And… he shouldn’t get to. 

“You know what? You just use your creed as a crutch; as an excuse,” you start, the words coming out shaky and unsure of themselves. You wait a beat for his response but he doesn’t have one, looking at you with a dumbfounded, open-mouthed expression. 

“You can’t just come into my life and change everything; change me and then claim you cannot commit yourself to me because of your creed. Well, your creed is gone now so what’s your excuse? It’s because you’re nothing but a coward; a coward who now has to deal with the consequences of his actions,” you finish, your tone growing firmer and angrier as you conclude your thoughts. Without even realizing it, you’re in his face, pointing your finger at him, and tears threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. 

“But ca’tra, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“Don’t call me that.”

As if you’re snapped out of your angry trance, you take a step back and press your palms to your eyes, willing yourself to not have a full breakdown in front of him. He doesn’t get to see you at your lowest point, not when he’s betraying you like this. 

Tears are rolling down his cheeks and a look of realization hits him. He’s losing everything as if that wasn’t evident to him before. He’s helpless, at a loss for what to do or say next. 

“I’m sorry I’m the one you love.”

“...That’s all you have to say?”

He doesn’t respond but you don’t even care anymore. The damage is done and there’s nothing he can say to change the fact that you can’t be with him anymore. The breakdown is hitting you like a ton of bricks and it’s showing no signs of stopping. It’s too painful to be here with him, in the very space where you saw his face for the first time, in the very ship that allowed you to finally leave Naboo. The memories are tainted now. They’re dead in your mind. The feeling inside you is nothing but grief; grief for what was really never yours in the first place. 

It’s time to go. Now. 

You’re frantically pressing the buttons to lower the ramp for the Crest. Everything is a blur and the ringing in your ears is so piercingly loud that you can’t tell if Din is calling after you or not. It’s hard to tell if you even care. Your mind is occupied with one thing and one thing only; run as fast as you can. 

And you do, running through the fields back towards Theed, never looking back once. 

All you can do is leave him in the past, where he belongs. 

Chapter Ten

Graphic by @nostalxgic

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#mamh #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin angst #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #star wars #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories

[omgahgase]

dinluke and grogu visits boba on tatooine because, honestly? din misses his friend. and luke is nothing but indulgent to his boyfriend so of course he tags along. ("yes, i promise not to fight fett. this time. unless provoked. if he provokes me again, din, then i'm fighting him.") tho, luke is unaware of boba's rancor so when they land on boba's property, the rancor—that boba takes on daily walks, the big guy needs his exercise—excitedly charges at grogu.

luke immediately gets flashbacks and ignites his saber, only for din to toss grogu to the damn beast and—why is grogu giggling? and why is the rancor wagging its tail? and why is grogu babbling in that happy tone luke's only ever heard around when he's around his parents? and—

"din, what the fuck is that thing doing to my son?"

"they're hugging, skywalker. it's what friends do—"

"is your name din? no. shut up, fett." luke whips his head to his boyfriend and points to grogu and the rancor as if he's expecting an explanation as to why grogu knows its favorite scratch spot is behind its ears.

he doesn't get an explanation, though. well, nothing more than din simply saying, "grogu and chomp have a long history."

luke...luke really wants din to elaborate on their so called 'long history' bc grogu is now on top of the rancor and tugging on its chains as if he wants it to scale the nearest cliff. which he probably does.

but luke is also fixated on a small detail that sounds too good to be true.

he slowly turns to boba, who's suddenly taken an interest in his sandy boots, and says behind a barely contained laugh, "you named your rancor chomp?"

boba sheepishly kicks at a pebble in such a non boba fett way that luke has never seen before. then, "he...likes to chomp...on things. the kids helped me name him. chomp was the least terrible one." boba coughs into a gloved fist and adds, "it was a vote."

as luke laughs a belly clutching cackle that doubles him over, making din support most of his weight so he doesn't face plant into the sand, he can't help but think that han is going to love this. boba fett, the guy who tried to kill them on more than one occasion, named his rancor chomp, of all names, because his cybernetic teenagers voted on it.

oh, luke can't wait until their next holocall.

#dinluke #luke and boba has a tense acquaintanceship #din is the only thing keeping them from fighting every five seconds #but now luke thinks boba isn't so bad if he can treat a man eating beast like a beloved household pet #grogu is also asking luke if they can get a rancor #luke says no #din says yes #luke skywalker #din djarin #boba fett #grogu #star wars #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett

[cevans-is-classic]

"You think you're all cool and mysterious but we both know if you removed your helmet you'd have no idea how to maintain eye contact."

He'd only been awake for ten minutes, and already you were having your morning rant.

Grogu followed you back and forth his ears wiggling as he mimicked your movements.

Djarin watched.

"I keep being told to 'control my face' whenever someone says something stupid, but I know, I know, you have no room to talk. You stand there with your hip propped, your armor all shiny, that helmet tipped to the side. You could be asleep! I know you've been asleep! Are you asleep now? Are you? It's early still."

Today is going to be one of those days.

Djarin held back a sigh, leaned down to pick up Grogu, "Morning to you too."

A withering look, "I've been awake for hours."

"Of course." He'd grown accustomed to you coming and going every few months.

Welcomed the times you could stay and thanked you profusely when you'd watch his homestead when they couldn't return for days.

Right now he's contemplating if he should have let Karga introduce the two of you.

"I had another dream."

That was something he'd never grow used to.

Grogu taught him what the force was. He'd seen the beauty of it — watched it be used to heal and save people as well as allow his son to reach the snacks he shouldn't be eating.

The force was the strongest hold the galaxy had and who could wield it — they were attuned to a way of life no other could understand.

Even with that knowledge he'd never knew there could be other — abilities.

Until you.

Until Karga called him to the main city and asked him to help protect you.

The dreams were a gift.

A gift that cost you pieces of your mind.

(That's what he believes anyway.)

"What kind of dream?"

Grogu settled in his chair, large eyes following Djarin as he put together a small breakfast for the youngling. He sat a bowl of broth in front of him, holding the spoon until Grogu grabbed it with a cooing frown.

"We talked about you trying." He pouted more but took the spoon.

"I saw a man."

"Ooo-ap." Grogu cooed again, reaching for the bowl of broth with his spoon waving towards it.

Djarin pushed the bowl closer, "A man?"

"He moved through many room. His person ever changing — a prince, a monster, a father, a villan — a man choked by smoke. He walked from face to face until they all blended together."

You once dreamt that a Fosibird would take flight over Nevarro — Fosibirds were extinct. Djarin assumed you'd exaggerated your dream and rolled your words off his shoulder.

The following week, a merchant purchased a Fosibird egg in attempts to create a statue of it, and as it laid in the hearth, the creature came to life.

He'd become weary of your dreams after that.

Learned what was prophetic and what was vivid telling of other people's lives.

Grogu finished his broth, the spoon still waving, while liquid dripped from his mouth.

Djarin felt his lips flatten out in an attempt at holding back laughter.

You used a cloth to wipe at his mouth and Grogu gurgled in response.

"What did you get from the dream?"

That had you standing still.

He'd once describe your eyes as a galaxy of their own. Far far away from where the rest of them stood.

Bo-Katan had rolled her eyes but he hadn't been attempting to flatter you. He'd been truthful about his thoughts.

"I dreamt it was you."

Grogu stopped waving the spoon and looked between the both of you.

"Of me?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you were mumbling about my facial expressions?"

A little frown furrowed your brow, "Yes. You have very expressive eyes — they tell a story."

"You don't know what my eyes look like."

For a moment he felt like that was a lie.

"Din Djarin," You took the spoon from Grogu and moved the bowl towards the sink, "I've never seen your face but I've seen you. Expressive eyes."

Djarin shook his head, "What if I don't have eyes?"

"I'm crazy not stupid. Oh, he threw up."

Grogu's mouth was covered in yellow colored spittle.

Djarin cursed rose and lifted his son from his chair to carry him to the sink, "You ate before breakfast didn't you?"

His large eyes darted to you and you shrugged, "I told you. I'd been up for hours."

Maybe you were right about his facial expressions. He knew if he didn't have his helmet on the look he was giving, he could kill with it.

The smile you gave him could bring others back to life.

Pedro Masterlist

Galaxy Eyes Masterlist

#din djarin x reader #din djarin snippet #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din grogu #din djarin x you #I dont know what this is #i had the image stuck in my head of reader and him talking back and forth #while grogu eats between them #and this came about #djarin grogu and galaxy

[multific]

Oath

Paz Vizsla x Reader

Season 3 Ep 1 spoilers

Summary: It was the day, the perfect day, when your son can finally become a real Mandalorian and he would receive his helmet.

You and your husband had been waiting for this moment since he was born.

And there he stood, your young boy, ready to make his pledge, but of course, everything went downhill. Because why wouldn't it?

Everything started off very well.

You stood beside your husband as the Armourer came out with a helmet in her hands. Forged for your son as you and Paz requested.

The ceremony started off okay. Other children before him had no interruptions.

Then the huge water creature crawled out and ruined it all. Chaos ensued.

"Go back! Take him with you." said Paz as he pushed you out of the way. You ran over to your son, in an attempt to help but he was adamant on helping the Armorer. 

In the end, Din Djarin appeared with his ship and killed the creature.

You turned to your son.

"Are you okay?" you asked him and he nodded.

"I am." you let out a sigh of relief. "Let's go inside." 

Once back in your rooms, you had a look at your son in his helmet.

"I'm really proud of you, you know? You look really good in your helmet." you said as he walked over to you and hugged you.

"Thank you, Mom."

"How dare he! He is not even a Mandalorian anymore! And yet he came in as if-"

"Paz." you stopped your rambling husband as soon as he entered the door. "I believe our son and his oath is more important than Djarin."

"Meshla... you are right. I'm sorry, My Son. I am very proud of you." you watched as Paz knelt down and your son ran into his arms. 

You were proud of your own little Mandalorian for sure, you were also a bit glad that Din arrived and killed that thing before it could hurt anyone else.

You watched as your husband and son put their helmets against one another.

It was possibly the cutest thing you have seen.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x fem reader #paz vizsla x wife reader #paz vizsla imagine #paz vizsla imagines #Mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x fem reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines

[blueshistorysims]

June 1922, Henford-on-Bagley, England

Dearest sister, 

I know you are tired of my constant complaining… but there are few people I can complain to, and unfortunately for you, you are one of them. I had never realized there was so much to do as a peer. I can sense resentment from the tenants of the Feldsbury lands. Parliament is so boring, and most of them don’t like me, considering I one, married a colored woman, and two, I am part of the Labour Party. Not that I care, but I am snubbed often at places where my title is of great prestige. To quote one of the earls, I am ‘a disgrace to the memory of the late Duke and should be ashamed as such.’ What a pity.

Stella is in London again if you and Francesca wish to invite her to dinner, or at least stop by and visit. And before you say wasn’t she in London two weeks ago, well, she is there again. I rarely see her. We were on track to fix everything, and then the bloody old man had to croak. Now we are strangers again in a life neither of us chose. 

We have finally been invited by our neighbors for dinner on Friday, so she will be returning for that. It’s bloody Mungroves. I don’t think I ever told you, but I was friends with their son in boarding school and I spent a summer there.

Joel Mungrove was… let’s just say the first person I developed feelings of a non-platonic nature for. Turned out he was a right cunt, for lack of better words. But the hilarious part of it all, is that neither Sir Francis Mungrove nor Lady Mungrove recognize me. I am delighted to embarrass them during dinner. 

Your brother, Byron

“Lovely house,” Stella muttered.

“The first girl I ever kissed was their daughter,” he mumbled under his breath.

She smirked. “Anything else?”

“Shhh,” he hissed, looking around. “...I felt her up as she… you know…” he wavered off, making a motion with his hand.

Stella laughed, and he smiled. He hadn’t seen her laugh in a while.  

“The Duke and Duchess of Feldsbury,” the butler announced as the Mungroves entered the main hall. 

“It is an honor to finally have you for dinner,” Lady Mungrove said, smiling kindly. 

She and her husband looked so much older than the last time he’d seen them, over thirteen years ago. He smiled politely and gestured to his wife, whom he noted Sir Francis was not making eye contact with.

“My wife is quite eager to see your dining room.”

Stella nodded. While she loathed it, she played of Duchess well. “The Duke has told me how beautiful it is.”

Sir Francis cocked a brow. “You seen it before?”

“Yes, I dinned here when I was a boy.” He grinned like a shark.

“It really is you!” A voice exclaimed from the stairwell, and there he saw Wilhelmina coming down with a man he thought looked familiar. “You’ve gotten so tall. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I’d read that you were Feldsbury's heir.”

He laughed. “I could say the same to you,” he greeted as she kissed his cheek.

Her parents looked bewildered. 

Wilhelmina gestured to the man next to her. “I’m sorry. This is my husband Jack Porter.”

“The poet?”

He nodded. “Yes, Duke.”

Byron was impressed. Stella looked much more interested than she had moments prior. 

“You know our daughter?” Lady Mungrove stammered.

Wilhelmina stared at her mother. “Mother, his grace was Joel’s friend he brought here in the summer of 1909.”

Color flooded the cheeks of the couple as Stella bit her lip to hide a smirk. 

During dinner, Byron learned that Joel was dead, having perished in the war. Sir Francis and Lady Mungrove were mostly quiet during the affair, likely from the embarrassment of earlier. Seeing them so uneasy made his evening entirely worth it. 

Afterward, he and Wilhelmina went to the balcony, reminding him of the many conversations they’d had in their youth. Jack was keen to show Stella the house, asking questions about the jazz scene in Harlem. 

“You know,” she began, “When I read that you married your wife and you were heir to the Duke of Feldsbury, I laughed. Of course the dukedom was our neighbor.”

“I wasn’t even aware back then. Are you happy with Mr. Porter?”

“Yes. He knows the real London social scene, and he makes me happy. I love him dearly. What of you and the duchess?”

He frowned. “The title has put a tremendous strain on marriage if I will be truthful. The only person who hates it more than I is her. I rarely see her.” He sighed.  “I confess, Wilhelmina, I don’t think our relationship will thrive if I do not leave Henford.”

She sat next to him. “I am sorry, Byron.”

“I didn’t tell her I was heir to a dukedom until after we eloped. She resents me for that. I don’t blame her.”

“Well, Jack and I live in London if she is in ever need of friends.”

“What she wants is to be around people like her, in a community where she doesn’t have to be someone else. That community is in New York.”

Wilhelmina nodded. “...My parents weren’t truthful about Joel’s death.”

“What?”

“I think you should know the truth. He did die during the war years, but not on the battlefield. He was severely injured and disfigured after a mustard gas attack. My mother couldn’t even look at him unless he was in bandages or wore a mask. It was hard to look at him. He couldn’t take it, so he killed himself.”

Byron sat there quietly. “My God.”

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 history challenge #ts4 historical #tw suicide mention #ts4 decades challenge #1920s #ts4 1920s #bit of a rollercoaster whoops #tw racism #stella gardenhouse #byron walsh

[wheresarizona]

An Adorably Sweet Man

summary: You both clearly had feelings for each other. It’s just a little surprising Din is the first to break.

rating: M (non-explicit smut, soft!Din Djarin, brothels, talk about sex workers (we are respectful in this house) love confessions, kissing, feelings, fluff.)

pairing: Din Djarin/f!reader

word count: 1900+

a/n: A fic for my follower celebration for my dear friend, @dresupi. She asked for space dad fluff with the prompt, “I love you, and it terrifies me.” Shoutout to @juletheghoul and @invisibleismyname for the beta! Love you guys.

Masterlist

Mando had taken you in as a crewmember on his ancient, pre-Empire assault ship, to do maintenance and, on occasion, watch over his tiny green alien son when he was bounty hunting. The thing was, he didn’t actually need you for the maintenance. The man knew how to take care of his giant relic, sturdier than the newer starships, that he’d kept in pretty good condition. It was just happenstance that while he’d been docked in your boss’s hangar and you’d been doing the routine diagnostics, you’d found one issue of a couple of lines in the wrong spots that were hindering fuel intake a minuscule amount, and you’d corrected it, but he’d thought it was the greatest catch and offered you the job.

At least that’s what he’d made your boss believe. In reality, you had found that minor issue, but his kid was force sensitive, and you were force sensitive, and the little guy would not leave without you. He made you see through the force his time with his father, showing you he was a good man, trying to do his best by Grogu and keep him safe, and when you’d tried to explain that you weren’t a Jedi, that you didn’t have a lightsaber, and only knew very basic things taught to toddlers because that’s how old you’d been when the order fell, Grogu had basically communicated same.

And that was how it all began.

You traveled with Mando, whose face you hadn’t seen and who spoke very little, and Grogu, who made sure his face was the first thing you saw in the morning and liked to share things through the force all the time (his top two topics were food, and his dad).

Then things got… complicated.

Because Grogu had been right about his father being a good man, but you’d learned over time that he was truly amazing.

It took some time, breaking down those durasteel walls of his, and he’d slowly opened up to you, showed you little pieces of himself, until the reveal of his name, that made you feel like you knew the galaxy's greatest secret.

Din was a sweetheart.

The kind of man who showed affection through acts of service, doing little things to make your life a little easier and help you out, and also buying you trinkets to make you smile. He did things that showed you meant something to him, that he cared about you, and then one day, he came back from buying supplies, and had somehow found your favorite candy from a planet on the other side of the galaxy, and you’d hugged him.

It was like a dam broke because once he had permission to touch you, his hands were on you whenever he was near—respectfully, of course, never doing anything untoward, even if you wanted him to touch you like that, and thought extensively about what the situation was like under that flight suit of his.

You both clearly had feelings for each other, but were both too cowardly to act on them and ruin the dynamic you’d developed.

The three of you were stopped on a quaint planet said to have some of the best pleasure houses in the galaxy, and Din Djarin, the smartest man you knew, hadn’t known what those were. He assumed the place had a bunch of nice inns, bringing you there to stay for the night and have a chance to sleep on the real bed. The thought had been sweet, and luckily Grogu had been sleeping in his hover pod, the top closed as you walked down the street, passing the mentioned houses, with transparisteel walls to see into rooms and the very pleasurable activities people were getting up to.

Din’s back had straightened when you walked past the first one, his helmet glancing before turning back forward. You, on the other hand, couldn’t keep your eyes away, taking in the different species doing many various acts.

“What’s the, uh, difference between these places and a brothel?” Din asked.

“Pleasure houses, the people working are doing it because they enjoy it and the money is a bonus. Brothels, the people are doing it for the money, and usually as a means to survive.”

“And the workers don’t enjoy it?” You could hear the frown in his voice.

“I’m sure they do sometimes! Depends on how caring their partner is. But it’s more of a job to them, and they work hard to earn their money, you know?” You rubbed his shoulder over the rough material of his cape. “I have no doubt that the lovely sex workers you’ve paid in the past had a wonderful time.”

“I hope so, too.”

You were impressed with the creativity of some of the couples, positions you weren’t even sure you were flexible enough to get into. There was also an orgy, that had a lot going on, between species you hadn’t known had compatible parts. It was entertaining and had you feeling hot under your clothes. One caught your attention, and you stopped in your tracks, watching in fascination as a human woman was on her knees, bent forward, with a man holding her arms behind her back, pounding into her from behind. You couldn’t hear the sounds, but from how their faces were screwed up in pleasure, you had an idea, and arousal pooled in your belly, imagining what it would be like to be in her place. What does beskar feel like against bare skin?

“Do they know we can see?”

Din’s voice made you jump, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Fuck!” You shouted, hand touching over your heart. “You scared me.”

“Scared or caught?”

You looked over at him, narrowing your eyes.

“I’ll have you know I am unashamed that I enjoy watching people have sex.” You looked back at the couple, tilting your head. “Maker, I just wish it were me.”

Coughing sounded from Din’s modulator, and your head turned towards him again.

“You okay?” You asked, patting his back over his cape.

“Yeah,” he wheezed. “Swallowed wrong.”

Your eyes moved back to the room, watching the man flip the woman easily, putting her legs on his shoulders, as he thrust into her.

“Happens to the best of us, buddy. You ever miss sex?”

You knew he wasn’t a virgin. You’d had to wheedle the information out of him because you’d been curious and nosey, finding out that before he’d taken in Grogu, he stopped at brothels on occasion, which made him not knowing what a pleasure house was amusing to you.

It was quiet for a moment.

“…Yes.” He finally answered.

“Me too. What I would give for someone else to make me orgasm.” You sighed wistfully as you turned away from the window, patting Din on the shoulder. “Come on, big guy, let’s go find an actual inn. I was told I’d be sleeping on a mattress tonight, and no matter how many pillows you buy me, the rack remains only slightly superior to the Crest’s floor.”

You started walking, Din following, his strides catching him up to you quickly, as Grogu’s pod followed beside you.

To your surprise, there was a non-pleasure inn, and the rooms were reasonably priced. Din got a two-bedroom suite so you each could have your own beds.

The place was decent enough and would suffice for your sleeping needs, the three of you in the adjoining living room.

“Is the kid awake?” Din asked, the first time he’d said anything to you since the window.

You felt for Grogu in the force, his signature calm and even, indicating he was sleeping.

“Still out cold,” you answered.

Din nodded once, moving the child into the room, and returning a minute later, shutting the door behind him.

He stood there for a minute watching you, and your eyebrow raised.

“Why are you staring?” You asked.

You saw his shoulders dip like he was letting out a breath, and he walked until he was standing in front of you, close enough that you could reach out and touch him.

“The people…” he started.

“The people having sex?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“What about them?”

“You… wished for it?”

“Well, yeah, don’t you?” You asked.

“I do.”

You felt an uncomfortable feeling form in your chest at the implication of his answer and his past history.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Did.. um, did you want me to watch Grogu while you go, you know, visit one of the establishments?”

“No,” he shook his head.

Your eyebrows creased. What was this conversation about?

“I don’t quite understand your train of thought,” you said.

He moved a little closer, his gloved hand cradling your cheek, and you leaned into the touch.

“I want you, cyar’ika,” he spoke softly.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes going wide.

“Me?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“What’s changed?” You asked. “Why now?”

He sighed.

“I didn’t like the thought of you with someone else.”

“So, you’re just jealous?”

“No. I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I know you feel the same.”

“Well, obviously. But now, there’s an option of me paying for sex, and suddenly you want to be with me?”

“I was… scared.”

“Of what?”

You saw his chest move, hearing him take a deep breath.

“That I love you.”

Your eyes went wide again, eyebrows in your hairline.

“You love me?”

“I do. I love you, and it terrifies me.”

“Why does it terrify you?”

“The thought that you might not feel the same.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, his helmet tilting in confusion, and you imagined he was frowning under the bucket, feeling a bit bad, but the idea that you didn’t love him was hilarious. It took some seconds to finally calm down.

You put your hand over his on your face, your other moving to rest on his helmet.

“Din Djarin, you adorable, sweet man, I have loved you since the moment Grogu showed me through the force all of your best moments, loving and protecting him like he were your own flesh and blood, and my feelings have only grown as time has gone on. You have no reason to be scared. I love you, too.”

You’d thought you already knew the galaxy’s greatest secret by knowing Din Djarin’s name, but all of the pieces of him you’d gathered, loving one another without any idea of what was under the beskar, hadn’t prepared you for the last piece of the puzzle to slide into place, as his hand went to his helmet, pulling it off to reveal the face of the man you loved.

You were shocked, mouth falling open as you took in the soulful brown eyes and beaming smile, the way he had a dimple in his right cheek, and his dark hair a mess atop his head. He was gorgeous, a face the artisans on Naboo would carve into stone to immortalize, and only you got to see it.

His face slowly morphed into concern the longer you didn’t speak, until he broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

His voice was even more attractive without the helmet, and there was a possibility you were going to combust.

“Yes!” You finally answered. “Sorry, a lot to take in. You tell a girl you love her, then break the creed you’ve followed your entire life in the span of five minutes, and it’s really just a rollercoaster of emotions.” You were rambling. “I loved you without knowing what was under that bucket, but I had not been prepared for how unfairly attractive you are. No wonder you wear the damn thing. People would be throwing themselves at you. Fuck, can I kiss you?”

He was smiling, cheeks pinking up.

“You can… I’ve just… uh…never.”

“Stop right there, babe. I will happily teach you in the ways of kissing… and more,” you winked.

He gulped.

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to see what else you're hiding under all that,” you said, pointing at his chest.

“You’ll soon find out,” he smirked.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pulling him close to you, slanting your mouth against his, kissing him hard and relishing in the surprised sound he’d made before he’d melted into you, his hands cupping your face, mimicking your movements. When you felt he had the basics down, you slid your tongue across his bottom lip, and he got the message, opening for you, swallowing his groan as you pushed in. He learned quickly, the two of you kissing deeply until breathing became a necessity, and you broke apart panting as you rested your foreheads together.

“I love you, Cyar’ika.”

“I love you, too, Din. Are you still scared?”

“No. I’m happy.”

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #wheresarizonas follower celebration

[brujitaadinbo]

I come trying to make myself understood; Excuse me, my English is not very good… anyway. In my country there is a famous saying that says "Respect for the rights of others is peace." And I come to tell you that it can indeed be applied to everything. My Bokadine friends and I are sure of one thing… we want Din, Grogu and Bo katan to be happy. Whatever happens, together or apart… but happy.

But; when in material where we know that Star Wars has always known how to handle the ups and downs of human emotions, which has shown us how romantic clichés can continue to be used and give them a different touch in their content. When we talk about Din and Bo and all those signs, all that interaction that we tell you was seen, that synchrony and chemistry, those romantic winks… it's because it's appearing there; We are not pulling it out of our sleeve as if it were a trick. They are the ones who, since season 2, have been put in that place of "enemies and then lovers", a very used and feasible resource for content of many types and what do they think?

Who were the ones who remained friends this season and with that wink and that possibility of something more??? Ohhh yes Bo katan and Din. Of course, if we are objective as many "like to be" and only when it suits them LOL The possibilities are many and in SW anything can happen… but let me tell you

They have handled the romance between Jedi, Jedi and other people, canon material in comics, iconic couples like Leia and Han, unstable couples like Anakin and Padme, more focused and realistic and to some extent healthy couples like Hera and Kanan, couples of all kinds , endless…. But that a Mandalorian and a Mandalorian who are technically a "ying-yang" type

What more than just complementing each other, they synchronize and are comfortable and yes… yes something can happen between them… ohhh no!!! They start to lose their minds… Don't lose it, look at something healthy and well-crafted, beautiful and pure on the screen, showing us that both began to come together, there was respect, support, trust and interest… Are you telling me that this is not key to a solid relationship and something more???

come on, really?

Well I see this; people who are not emotionally mature enough, who believe that The Mandalorian is just cheap action; They are the ones who have the most right to give their opinion, that's the bad thing about internet access HAHA because they are those types of people who will never agree with anything, who are the first to forget this content when it is no longer popular, who never understood that Star Wars and its characters are as the Armorer says, Din's spiritual guide, says and now Bo's ally... they are all fables with a moral.

Let's look at those types of people who, in my land, we also say "they neither live nor let live," very hurt people, very overwhelmed with their own hearts, that everything beautiful or beautiful or that blooms, they like to darken it, wither it, because that's how they are. It's their nature.

I'm just telling you; Din was not forced by anything to follow Bo katan, neither the creed, nor a payment involved, nor what the armorer had told him, was an impediment for him to join her, he also expressed it at the time of the oath.

And vice versa Bo Katan has always been seen from a perspective where she is called selfish, villainous, she moves towards her interests and coincidentally her interest was to be close to a Mandalorian in silver armor and his son, save them, help them and coincidentally end up together. …even how this season ended… I don't know; It sounds logical to you to want to deny it or rather, just accept your "argument" so as not to discuss it, to live together and stay by your side so that you feel good…haha I don't think so, I would never do that.

#the mandalorian #bo katan x din #dinbo #din x bo #din djarin #bo katan kryze #bokadin #clandetres

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 2: The Mechanic

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: You get to know the Crest, surprising the hell out of your host.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, Reader has hair long enough for a braid. uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Hi! To say again, I am completely new here. I am just a struggling writer with a brittle heart and this little story has lifted me out of a block the size of a small moon (that's no moon). Here on A03, I just got encouraged to share here. And in terms of Star Wars canon and mechanics stuff, I'm just making it up, friends. Hoping it's still a fun story like its inspo.

--

‘Dank farrik,’ he – Mando – mutters, punching at the pad until it lights up.

The ship had been cruising at sublight for a while, you assume so that your pilot could chart out courses or whatever. Navigation was never your strong suit.

‘I will need to make a stop,’ he says. It’s not apparent whether he’s talking to you or himself. ‘These blast corners are not going to last the journey.’

You sit up. What are you doing? You ask, ‘Do you have the parts?’ 

‘Yes,’ he says absently. ‘But it is a specialised process. In cases like this, I take the Crest to a dock.’

‘I could replace them.’ Shut up.

He doesn’t register you for a long beat. Then looks over his shoulder. ‘What?’

‘I can replace them for you.’ You can’t stop yourself. 

‘And you know,’ your eyes roll around the cockpit. Why are you about to say this? Keep it to yourself. But you’d been noting little things to keep yourself occupied and, for some reason you don’t scrutinise too closely, you want to let this guy see you for who you are.

‘That transition from atmo would go a lot smoother if your power didn’t have to divert through the drag shafts. A little rigging, a simple program, and it can pass straight through the core. Smooth as.’ 

His whole upper body turns toward you. 

‘And,’ you lean forward, ‘I bet those thrusters were last serviced on Navarro?’

A heavy pause.

‘They were.’

You sniff, knowingly. ‘Don’t get me wrong – can’t fault those mechanics much – but for some reason they insist on four cylinders for every row. Is it cultural? I don’t know. But it just gums up the rotation. You only need two.’

Finally, he rotates his chair, facing you. He leans forward on his elbows.

‘How do you know all this?’ You hear what he doesn’t verbalise, You’re a wealthy, spoiled heiress who’s never known a day’s work.

You just keep a level look on your face. ‘I’d rather keep that to myself, if it’s all the same. Cards close to the chest and all that. But I can be more helpful than just sitting here. I can help out around here, show your ship some love.’

He huffs and leans back. ‘Right.’ He turns back to the console.

‘Okay,’ he comes to a decision. ‘I have to pick someone up anyway. We will land and you can make the replacements while I retrieve him.’ You’re wondering to yourself who this ‘him’ is when Mando spins back around, you jump a little. His voice is fierce. ‘But if you mess up my ship, I will leave you on the most backwater planet I can find. And Mandalorians have extensive nav maps.’

He turns.

Mandalorians? Hm.

--

The sense of relief felt at seeing the child Grogu again is still thrilling to the buttoned up Mandalorian. The kid is cooing in Peli’s embrace, who in turn chatters away. But the moment he clocks Din walking toward him, the child reaches up and – whoosh – is in his arms again.

‘Hi Grogu,’ Din’s smiling behind the mask, ‘were you good?’

‘Total angel!’ Peli shouts. ‘Bye baby!’

When he returns to the ship an hour later, with provisions and a babbling kid, he’s expecting to see you fumbling around an input hatch. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

Din turns to his son. ‘Grogu, there is a person on the ship. I am confident she is no threat to us, so do not worry, but please play nice.’

The baby squints and blows a mischievous little raspberry. Din sighs, oh well.

But where were you? Hells, if he’s lost her already…

He scans the hatches that house the blast corners; they are all neatly clipped in place. Even the one that had always stuck out a bit and would rattle in dodgy atmo entry was sealed flush against the hull.

He frowns. 

On entering the ship, he hears the quiet hiss of the fresher. She’s helped herself to his amenities? Damn Maker, he thinks. His resentment lessens considerably though when he drops into his cockpit chair, the child wandering up behind him, and engages the test switch for the blasts. The light flips on instantly. The diagnostic scans green. The diagnostic never scans green.

He’s staring so hard at the panel that your bright ‘Hey!’ from behind makes him jolt.

You’re pulling damp hair into a loose side braid, strolling into his space.

‘Sorry, that was oily work and I figured a wash up was a fair trade,’ you’re saying. You seem like you’ll go on but you trail off when you spot Grogu, who for his part is giving you his most doe-like, glossy-eyed stare. ‘Hi there…’

But Din’s distracted. She’d changed all four corners with enough time to spare for a jet stream? And they were responding better than they ever had? In the whole time he’s owned the Crest?

‘Woooo, hahaha, oh wow you’re a cutie!’

Your voice brings him back to himself and he’s stunned again to see you kneeling by Grogu, the both of you laughing and playful as you swing the bottom of your braid while he tries to catch it. The kid’s giggling. 

Grogu catches your braid, you let him, and toys at it tentatively, cooing away. You look up at Din, smiling.

‘This who you had to pick up?’

‘Yes,’ Din barely gets the words out. ‘This is my son, Grogu.’

You look back to the gremlin who has your hair. ‘Hi Grogu, charming name you have.’

Grogu looks up at you with a happy ‘ahh!’ and drops your braid.

Din doesn’t know how to feel about any of this.

The innocuous little light blips in his palm. He glares at the fob while an internal battle rages. It is a bad idea, but Din knows in his gut he probably won’t get a better opportunity than this one. A huge bounty so elusive he’d been carrying the damn – infuriatingly silent – fob with him for an age.

Now here it was, blinking to life. He looks over at you.

You’re snoozing in the flight chair, elbow crooked on the arm rest and knees tucked in. He’s remained perplexed by how at home you’ve looked on his ship. Not only that, you’re a savant with the thing. You’d made good on adjusting the exit power flow already, and the Crest was practically singing for it.

You’re nothing like what he was expecting. But you were still a job he had to finish. No question there. 

This bounty though… 

As if sensing his fitful inner conflict, you stir. Rolling your head up and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you hum to yourself.

‘Mm, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to doze off there,’ you say, sitting straight. You take in the ship’s stationary mooring, systems in standby. ‘Where are we?’

‘Nowhere special,’ he says. ‘But…’ 

You clock the blinking fob he’s holding. ‘Ooh, that a job?’ 

You seem… all lit up by it, Din thinks. Worlds but you are strange.  

Without any real fight left, the war inside him ebbs and he gives in to the pull.

‘It is, a big one,’ he holds out the fob. ‘It’s not far from here, and should not take me long. I will lock down the ship; you will be completely safe.’ 

You sit forward. ‘I could come with,’ you say, eagerness in your voice.

‘Absolutely not!’ He stands, scandalised by the idea. ‘You will stay here, in the cockpit, until I return.’

He may have laced his tone with too much menace, because you lean back in the chair and drop your gaze. 

Regretting it, he sighs and drops back into his flight seat, turning to the controls. ‘Your safety is more important,’ he whispers. You stay quiet on the descent and landing.

It’s only when Din summons Grogu to his side as he readies that you speak up.

‘You’re taking him?’ you exclaim. ‘Your kid?’

‘He is in training,’ Din says, offering no further explanation. Grogu, for his part, wanders over to you, babbling away. He reaches up and touches your knee; you lean down and scratch his ear, mumbling something like ‘keep him out of trouble then, hm?’

Din takes in the scene, something pricking at his chest.

‘Grogu, let’s go.’ He turns and knows the child will follow.

Just this job, he tells himself. Then he’ll take her home.

- - 

Listening to the whir and grind of so many locking mechanisms engage and clunk into place settles a weary sense of dread over you. You’ve been here before, stripped of volition and made to stay in place.

You decide to be bored and restless instead of anxious and afraid.

Looking about the tiny space, your eyes land on the code pad by the door. You’d noticed the release switch catches a little, and Mando has to jab at it twice or thrice each time it’s used. You can fix that.

Casting about, you find a little stash of tools under Mando’s seat. Perfect.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much time and you end up dithering a little, readjusting the light sensor as well so it actually responds to input. 

Just as you’re tucking the pad’s cover back into place, a long slick of ice slides down your spine as the ship groans. The lockdown is disengaging.

‘He can’t have been that quick,’ you say aloud. 

You move to the front of the ship and spot two gruff and burly henchmen striding toward the Crest. A glance at the ship HUD shows the ramp to the hold gliding open, lowering steadily to let the invaders inside.

‘How’d you get onto this ship,’ you spit a few minutes later, wiping a bound wrist at your bloodied lip.

Your dazed victim grunts and rolls his head from left shoulder to right. From his place crumpled against the wall, he looks over to his unconscious companion and then up at you. ‘Fuck you, bi—’

You slam onto your knees across his hips, lock your hands together and swing them across his face. Gods it hurts, you’re not usually a puncher. But your hackles are raised and you know something is badly wrong.

Lucky for your almost lacerated knuckles he gives up immediately.

Hands fly into the air. ‘It’s a trap!’ he yelps. ‘An- a- an- ambush! Cephlate knew he would come. He hates Mando. Wants- wants to end him. He’s got tech to control the ship and he’s going to lure him into—’

You hit his carotid artery and he’s lights out. Time’s up. You surge to your feet and move.

--

Everything had been going wrong since the second he’d breached the perimeter. There were more enemies than he was expecting. They had better weapons than he’d anticipated, fucking artillery. He and Grogu had worked as a team as best they could, but the forces were overwhelming.

He hadn’t even had time to zero in on that stupid fucking warlord. Hunched behind a low building, he scans the hacked layout of the base via the holo of his vambrace. He spots a building built like a bunker and, thank the Maker, underground access – a tunnel that barrels off the edge of the plans, presumably out of this hellish place.

It’s fine, he’ll get back to his ship and come back ready for war. 

‘Let’s go kid!’ He shouts and he sprints for the doors. Grogu follows, leaping from cover point to cover point.

Wrenching the doors aside just enough for the two of them to slip in, he jams a vambrace against the control pad and programs them to seal. Twisting to lean back against the wall, he surveys the room and his heart stops. He swears he is hallucinating.

Din stalks forward and leans over the rack of servers.

‘What are you doing here?’ he hisses at you, crouched as you are by an open panel bristling with cables and blinking lights. You’re holding some complicated looking motherbank. ‘I told you to stay on the ship.’

You take a handful of wires and reef them from the bank.

‘Yeah, well,’ you say, not looking up. ‘Couple uninvited guests dropped in and told me about this.’ You shake the device in his visored face.

‘Uninvited what?’ He checks behind him, unholsters his blaster. 

‘Guests. Couple of your quarry dearest’s goons.’

Din is speechless, then, ‘How’d they get inside the Crest? Ground security was active.’ A massive boom rings against the sealed doors.

‘Because of this.’ You shake the object again, pulling a tiny pair of pliers – his pliers? – from a pocket and poking inside it.

‘What—’

‘Traction lock. Writ large. And I mean large. Look at this place.’ You wave a hand around. ‘Could take total control of like, an Imperial battleship with this setup.’ 

Din’s in shock, barely taking anything in. Who are you? He gives himself a shake and snaps back into focus, looking at their surroundings and assessing the best way to deal with the incoming ambush.

‘I’m decoupling your ship’s code from his systems,’ you’re saying. ‘Although it would go a lot quicker if,’ you raise your bound wrists. He notices them for the first time and leans down to cut them free. 

‘Hss, thank you,’ you say, going back to work and taking a few more moments before dropping the messy bundle of tech to stand.

‘Done,’ you chirp.

‘How did your hands end up…’ Din gestures.

‘Bit of a story on my way in,’ you say. ‘These guys have the weirdest weapons—’ You’re cut off.

- -

The doors separate and the room erupts in screaming red. You gasp as you’re picked up and flung against the wall. A heaviness lands on your chest and your vision is obscured by black and chrome crowding you in. You take in what’s happening. 

His body shields you from the pulse probe that had just been tossed into the room. His torso is flush to yours. The helmet tilts up and bumps the crown of your head. You’re completely covered by his broad form. As the pulse fades, boots thunder on the deck toward the opening. For one, barely there fraction of a second, your hips press together as he abruptly shifts and hefts you back behind the bank of servers. 

‘Stay down!’ His command sears across every point your bodies had made contact. He moves toward the formation approaching and becomes a force of nature again.

Hands free and blood singing, you think fuck it. You emerge and survey the scene, taking full advantage of the squad failing to consider you part of the fight. You spin between two while they’re focused on your escort and let fly a flurry of interjections into their joints and airways. One yelps and falls to the side, clawing at his neck. The other fares better, but only until you reef his own blaster in his hands, surprising him with his own momentum, forcing it into the open patch below his helmet and firing.

Dropping the weapon and his limp hands, you convert to a crouch and kick out. With toes pointed and bright, two sets of knees twitch the wrong way and the owners give startled shouts as your fingers find homes in significant places.

A rough hand grabs your tender wrist and you cry out. The shock lets the attacker tug you toward him, fist raised to ram into your face. You barely get your feet under yourself to duck. The swing still manages to brush by your ear, causing a burst of pain. But he’s already let his momentum carry him too far and you yank your seized wrist down so he loses centre. You get your shoulders into his groin and straighten in a rush. He topples over you and lands at a very unfortunate angle on his neck. He stills.

You whirl and register the fight is over. Mando’s whipcord snaps back into place at his wrist and he holsters a pistol slowly, shoulders rising and falling only a little. Seven other bodies surround the still and watchful figure. 

‘Five against one, huh?’ he echoes you from your first meeting.

You can only shrug.

He saunters toward you. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

Another shrug. Man, that must be annoying. ‘Woman of mystery. Cards close to the chest. All that,’ you say.

Mando regards you. ‘Hm. I would be interested to know just how many cards you hold there to be honest.’

Would he now.

You’re about to lobby a smartass remark in deflection when his hand rises to your face. You resist the urge to jolt back, letting his palm move to hover within an inch of you. It holds there, making no move to turn into actual touch. Still making your lungs fizzle though.

‘You’re hurt,’ he says. You realise he means your injured mouth.

‘It’s nothing,’ you squeak, cringing at yourself. ‘More story for later. Seriously, I’m fine.’ You think you’re staring into his eyes, as he stares back, but hell if you could really know. He breaks away first and you exhale.

‘Time to go,’ he says, moving to the open grate you had climbed through earlier. The three of you drop into the access tunnels and move out.

--

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#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #razor crest #mandalorian fanfic

[grogusmum]

I wish you would write a fic where... there is a lot of fluff for baby Grogu that all the characters you wrote for would be jealous of that insane level of fluff. And your readers will scream and cry and throw everything to be in your fic and beg 1% of that fluff.

I know you will do it.

Hahaha! Dawnie, now I am imagining my Pedro Boys all bumping each other raising their hands saying "pick me, pick me", jockeying to be first in line for some super fluffy story, and then looking disappointedly down at Grogu who is actually first (except, of course, Din who is looking like a proud papa)

So what kind of super fluffy story, though, I've already put him in so many fluffy situations??

Oh! How about Grogu (in my A Galaxy Far Far Away AU) being put in charge of taking care of the hens all on his own?

Maybe reader is going on a trip, and Din and Grogu are at Juniper cottage for a weekend on their own for the first time.

Grogu waddles out to the hen house and picks up the little wire egg basket, and finds the latch too high.

Din is watching from the window this first time, making sure he his doing okay, and just when Din starts to move to go help him, Grogus little hand reaches out, his eyes close and his wars lower in concentration... suddenly, the latch pops up, and the door opens a couple inches. Din watches his son clamber inside anssmiles with pride at Grogus problem solving skills.

Inside the hen house is warm and dry, he knows you cleaned the hay and bedding before you left, so the little child says good morning to each hen, just like you do and thanks each one as he puts his little hand under them to get to the eggs in their nesting boxes. He giggles at their tickle feathers, and they cluck in their soft, friendly way.

Because they are friends and have an Egg Agreement.

Grogu feeds them, cleans out, and fills their waterer, just as he has seen you do. Using the force when he can't reach things, like the water spigot. Then he opens their little door so they can walk around in the yard.

After his chores a complete Grogu looks around feeling pretty proud of himself. Then decides he want to go out the hens little door instead of the big door.

Din and Seamus, the dog have stepped out into the yard in time to see Grogu push himself through and toddle down the ramp. He hugs Clara, the Rhode Island red (his favorite, because he likes to sit on him) when the others see Grugo giving out such gentle hugs they all come over for one, Grogu coos and giggles as they jockey for his sweet affection.

"I wish you would write a fic where..." asks

#ask game #writer ask game #dawnie in my inbox #grogu fluff

[thewriterowl]

Would you mind giving us more of your thoughts on Din losing some of his humanity after his husband "died" on Tatooine ? 👀

(As well as he subsequent obsession when he realises Luke's alive of course~)

Oh goodie, one of my favorites XD I feel like i will keep saying the same things...but i just love it and i am sorry for being neck deep in filth like this.

TW: Dark Din, trauma, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, temporary character death

Din would crumple, his knees giving out, when he sees the farm-stead...it is just too much to even think about. He tries to fight the idea, tries to have faith, knows if there is no body, then there is no proof. How could he doubt Luke?

Luke would never leave him...Luke could never leave him. It was just not possible. Luke understood him--understood what it would do to Din, more so than Din would understand himself. Luke is such a good, kind-hearted man who would never do anything to hurt anyone...He wouldn't just leave him.

Din isn't even aware he makes it back to the Crest and has taken off. Isn't even aware when he makes it back to the Tribe. That he had just gone almost catatonic when his people find him and get the news out of him that his One, the one he planned to marry, the one whom he would break his Creed for, whom he wanted to make a family with...was dead.

Or, they get the impression he is dead. Din refuses it. He says Luke will find him. Luke will come home. Luke was out there. His One was alive...this was just a misunderstanding. He already lost his family, his planet, his childhood and innocence, so many of his new people and family, his sanity...he's lost so, so much already....and Luke knew that. Luke wouldn't do this to him.

He tells people to help prepare for Luke to show up. For them to welcome the new member of the Tribe...it was going to happen any day now. No one really has the heart to tell him otherwise at first. People help get things ready, as if Luke would return any day with that sheepish grin and an apology for worrying Din, but he just...doesn't.

Soon, Din is growing furious. He takes mission after mission to take him off world and out into the stars to find him. He rarely brings quarries back alive. Or in one piece.

Some days, his Tribe tries to keep him at bay--and sometimes it works. He is a dangerous man, one of their best, but he cannot fight so many of them. And they are ready to break his legs if to get him to stop and take a break. Din knows he can't go and find Luke if they do that, so he stops...at least moving. he doesn't stop hunting.

He goes over so many bits and pieces of information, he studies, he becomes calculating. He starves for the day for when he can take down those that did this to his beloved.

And he knows it was not the Tuskens...he knows, anyone with any skill would've seen, it was the Empire...they took his beloved from him. They did something to him. They made Luke break his promise to always be there for Din. To never leave him, never let him lost that light he desperately needed, to always love and be there for him...it was their fault...and he was going to make them pay for it.

He grows strong, he gets people on his side, gets an army if needed, and begins to take people of the Empire out one by one...till he is known throughout the underground Mandalorian system as someone to follow...as someone who could be the next great king.

Then, of course, he finds his son and adopts him...then finds the Darksaber and all hail him as the one who will Redeem them, who will take them back to their glory days.

And then...he finds his Luke.

Luke who is as beautiful and gentle as the day he lost him. Stronger and brighter than ever...but still his Luke. His One.

His One who will be returning to Mandalore with him, who will be his Consort, and who will never leave his side ever again.

#owl inbox #dinluke #dark din djarin

[ooops-i-arted]

It never fails. Finally, I have enough time to write, and writer's block has struck me like an anvil. Still trying to get back in the groove.

For now, here's the first chapter of that Caradin Winter Soldier AU fic I've been working on that still doesn't have a name:

Din resisted the urge to rub his brow and pushed away the thought that if he challenged Bo-Katan to combat, he could injure her enough to put her in a bacta tank and force her to shut up, at least for a few days.  “No, we cannot ally with Besthel.  They’re an Imperial planet and we will not be allying with the Empire under any circumstances.”

“We should be trying to sway them to our side, not letting a resource-rich planet go,” argued Bo-Katan.

“The Empire has a strong foothold there still, according to my intel,” said Din evenly.

Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow.  “And whose intel was that?”

The Armorer was tilting her head in a knowing manner.  Din ignored her.  “Reliable intel,” he said.  “I trust the source.”

“We all know that,” snorted Bo-Katan under her breath.

“The discussion is over,” Din said, feeling his face heat under the helmet and glad he still kept it on the vast majority of the time.  “We are not seeking an alliance with Besthel while the Empire has such a strong hold on them.  This session of the council is adjourned.”

Bo-Katan was out of there with a sour face and Din barely nodded farewells to the other clan leaders before heading to his own quarters.  These meetings were already such a pain in the ass; necessary, but like pulling teeth.  And now he had more thoughts riled up in his brain thanks to Bo-Katan and her snarky remarks.

The guard outside his quarters bowed briefly in acknowledgment; Din had given up trying to talk them out of it months ago.  He went into his rooms and there finally removed his helmet, setting it on the stand under one of the few decorative elements he’d indulged in for his otherwise spartan rooms.

The holopics were simple enough but they were where he always looked when he felt overwhelmed by the responsibilities of Mand’alor.  Grogu had the star spot, of course, his beloved son levitating rocks and looking proud; Din had taken the holo during his last visit to Skywalker’s Jedi Praxeum.  There were several more of him and Grogu, one of his reunited tribe after he’d found and assembled them again after they’d been scattered from Nevarro.  And to the left was the only holo he had of him and Cara.

It wasn’t even a very good one.  He’d taken it off one of the trashier news sites that had been showing off the fashions of the various representatives at the summit of allies hosted by the new Mand’alor almost two years ago.  He’d been able to wear his beskar, luckily, but part of Cara wrangling herself an invitation as a New Republic representative had been a dress code and she’d been forced into a off-the-shoulder teal gown that showed off her gorgeous muscles, and her other assets too.  Cara had cursed in Huttese and Shryiiwook as she wore the dress.  Din had almost dropped the Darksaber when he’d seen her.

-

“This is ridiculous.  I look like one of the desserts.”

Din tried to say something witty about Mandalorian desserts, but his mouth wasn’t working well and all he managed was “You look like a character out of that holofilm we watched last month.”

Cara snorted but she also looked down, her cheeks reddening.  Din couldn’t risk looking down; his view was all too good.

“It’s an older Alderaanian style, I think,” Cara said, idly playing with a lock of hair.  She kept growing it longer and it suited her.  “They had to whip up something for me real quick, since I sort of forced them into letting me come.”  She quirked a brow and grinned at him.  “Well, a special invitation from the Mand’alor didn’t hurt.”

Din nodded.  He had definitely forgotten how to speak and even if he had he was afraid he would blurt out that they should go dance, even though it wasn’t that kind of function and Mandalorians didn’t have Alderaanian-style dances like the holofilm where the beautiful noblewoman had been swept off her feet by the prince.  That holofilm had been a silly children’s movie anyway, watched only because they’d gotten drunk intending to fool around and instead gotten too drunk and maudlin and ending up watching a rare surviving Alderaanian holofilm and commiserating about their destroyed birthplaces instead.

Cara looped an arm around his, jerking him out of his thoughts.  “We might as well go mingle.  Or whatever you do as the leader of a planet.  What do you do all day, anyway?”

“Babysit,” said Din.

“So nothing new.”

“Grogu was definitely easier.”

She’d laughed at that, and it had given him the will to go and play Mand’alor and leader to all these invited diplomats, because at least he could sneak away in between pleasantries and enjoy her snarky comments and her smile.

-

Din sighed, recalling the fun they’d had during and after the festivities.  It’d been two months since he’d spoken to Cara, the longest they’d been apart since they’d captured Gideon and Skywalker had taken Grogu to the Praxeum and he’d won that stupid sword and been named Mand’alor.  Her Marshal duties kept her very busy, but this was an unusually long time without at least a holocall or message.  They often managed to talk at least once a week, and Cara had ended up being very good at finding excuses to come visit.

He hadn’t done something, had he?  Offended her?  Pushed her away?  But Cara was the type who would tell him to his face, Din was sure.  She was as direct as a charging reek when it came to… well, pretty much everything.

Din pushed aside good memories; moping wouldn’t help anything, so once again he activated his comm and called her.  He tried to think of what to say as the call went through.  It’s been too long, why haven’t you called?  What are you up to?  Just say so and I’ll find an excuse to have you sent here, with me… 

The call shorted out and his comm told him there was no signal.  Din frowned.  There were some places on Nevarro where the signal was poor and it was difficult to connect.  But what was she doing away from the main city for so long?  If she was going on a long mission like that, wouldn’t she have told him?  She hadn’t mentioned anything like that last time they spoke, just that work was keeping her busy and the Imperials seemed to be probing Nevarro’s defenses a bit more than usual.

Din shook his head.  There was nothing he could do to change it.  Cara would comm when she was ready.  He could try again tomorrow.

-

Cara was laying next to him, grinning at him with that playful smirk he loved to see.  “I know this is a dream,” he told her.

“Yeah, so?  What are you complaining about?”  She flicked his chin teasingly, fingers catching on stubble, and leaned over to kiss him, her leg hitching over his.  He grabbed on to her, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs, trying to let himself sink into the dream.  It wasn’t the same as her being there.  Not the same as really having her body against his.

He ended the kiss but couldn’t pull away.  “I miss you, Cara.  I miss talking to you.”

“When did you become the talkative type?” Cara asked with a grin, rubbing her foot against his shin and kissing him again.

“Since you disappeared.”

But Cara just laughed.  “I’m right here.  Bo-Katan hit that tin can head of yours one too many times?”

Din heard a familiar coo then, but as soon as he moved to try and spot Grogu, it jolted him right out of the dream and he was back in his bedroom on Mandalore, in his oversized and empty bed, laying on his side and staring at his beskar armor on its stand.

Alone again.

He sighed.  He could wallow in pity and his worries or he could try and get some sleep, and he knew which one was more useful.  He pulled his blanket back up and readjusted himself and instinctively glanced at the gleam of his polished beskar -

- In time to see a shadowy figure move behind him.

Din dived forward just in time to feel a vibroknife slice over his flesh instead of burying itself in his back.  He hit the floor and rolled straight towards the armor, grabbing the helmet and slapping the switch for night vision.  It activated just in time for him to see a figure in black barreling towards him, slamming him into the wall and sending his beskar clattering to the floor.

Din headbutted his attacker, making them stumble back just enough he could snatch his blaster off the weapons stand as his guards burst into the room.  He aimed and fired but the figure snatched his breastplate, using it to deflect his shots and the guards’ as they ran for the window and jumped straight through the glass, throwing the armor behind them at the guards as they dropped out of sight.

“Mand’alor!”  Half the guards surrounded him as the others raced for the window.

“Mand’alor, you are hurt,” said one, activating his comm and ordering for a medic.  Din could feel blood trickling down his back.  The wound didn’t feel deep, but if he hadn’t woken up just in time and moved, he would be bleeding out if not already dead.

“I’ve lost visual!” called one of the guards.

“Sound the alarm.  Track them down,” ordered the guard-captain, Oros Spar, snatching up Din’s abandoned breastplate.  “Mand’alor, we need to get you to a safer location.  Can you wear this while we move you?”

“Yes,” said Din; he’d worn full armor while worse off before.  The guards pulled on his flak vest with backplate and breastplate and at Din’s request another helped pull on his gauntlets.  The backplate was pressing painfully on his injury, but the armor made him feel better and so did the blaster in his hand.  If the assassin had attacked from the other side he would’ve been able to snatch his holdout blaster from its secret compartment; he would have to install another one on his bed.

The guards circled him as if they were a pram around a certain Force-sensitive infant.  The thought troubled Din; hopefully this wasn’t related to Grogu in any way.  He would have to call Skywalker and warn him anyway.  For right now he stayed alert for more danger, trying to walk in a way that didn’t aggravate his bleeding back until his guards bundled him into an interior room, normally used for guests.

“Make a perimeter,” ordered Oros, several of the guards checking the room and taking up posts with practiced ease.  Another escorted in a Zabrak woman, who wore her armor instead of her usual medic’s garb, her helmet and her kit under her arm.  “Mand’alor, it’s been a while,” Alaena Cadera, his personal medic, said wryly with a respectful nod of her head.

“I usually avoid being injured,” said Din.

“You’re usually better at it.”

“The room is secure, Mand’alor,” said Oros.  “No entry or exit except this door.”

Din nodded.  “Try and find them.  And how they got in.”

“We will hunt them down, Mand’alor,” Oros assured him.  “For now, my best guards will be here by your side.”

“Thank you.”  Din started shrugging out of his armor, the wound already burning painfully with every movement.  One of the guards helped him set it aside while Alaena started setting her things out on a nearby table.  She stopped him from pulling off his shirt.  “It’s ruined anyway, and you should avoid movement until I’ve patched this up,” she said as she cut the fabric away.

Din let her and told Oros, “I need a comm.”

“Right away, Mand’alor.”  One of the guards came up with the spare.  Din typed in the code for who he wanted to call first, relieved when a familiar helmeted face appeared in a moment.

“You’ve looked better, Djarin,” said Boba Fett.  “But I’m guessing that’s why you’ve called.”

“I know you’re not hunting these days.  But can I hire your skills anyway?” Din asked.  “I was just attacked in my sleep.  I want you to help me hunt the assassin down.”

“For an old friend, of course I can hunt.  Fennec can run things here.  I’ll load up Slave 1 and be there in a day or so.”

“Thank you.”

“Make sure you stay alive that long.  Ib’tuur jatne tuur ashaad kyr’amur.”

“Gar serim,” Din muttered in agreement, and Boba ended the call.  Din winced as he felt bacta seeping into his wounds.

“Stay still,” Alaena admonished him.  “It may not be life-threatening, but it’s certainly deep enough.  What happened?”

“Stabbed in the back.  I barely moved in time,” said Din, careful to stay still under her administrations.

“You’re very lucky.  Much deeper and you would be in serious trouble.”

Din nodded; he certainly trusted her assessment.  Next he pressed in the code for the Jedi Praxeum, scowling when instead of Skywalker he got the image of the Jedi’s obnoxious golden protocol droid.  “Oh!  Olarom, bal’ban guuroryc Mand’alor -”

“Basic,” Din growled.

“Very well, of course, Mand’alor Djarin.”

“I want to talk to Grogu and Skywalker.”

“I’m afraid Master Luke isn’t here,” the droid said.  “He took Master Grogu and all the younglings out into nature today for a trip to commune with the Force in the peace of… well I’m afraid I don’t understand it, but -”

“Can you get a message to him?” Din interrupted.

“I should be able to reach Artoo but Master Luke won’t want to be disturbed,” fussed the droid.

“I don’t care.  Tell him I was attacked here on Mandalore.  I don’t know if it’s about Grogu but I wanted to warn him in case it was.”

“Master Grogu is perfectly safe with Master Luke, I assure you!  But I will be sure Artoo receives the message and I will personally insist he relays it.  Artoo really doesn’t understand, but -”

Din cut the call, knowing from experience the karking droid would prattle on endlessly if allowed.  Why Skywalker didn’t scrap the thing, he didn’t know, but Grogu seemed to like the golden abomination so Din hadn’t “accidentally” fired his blaster at it.  Yet.

He grunted as Alaena flattened a bandage along his back.  “This should be healed by morning.  Unless you want a bacta tank, which would fix it in an hour.”

“No tank.”  In Din’s opinion the only thing worse than hanging vulnerable and exposed in a tank and wasting valuable space on a non-life-threatening injury would be doing so while an assassin was after him.

“As you wish.  I’ll remain on call if you need me,” Alaena said before letting the others escort her out of the room.  Another Mandalorian brought Din fresh clothes and he changed while Oros gave him an update.  “No one can find any sign of the attacker.  It’s like they weren’t even here.”

Din nodded, wincing as the movement sent a shot of pain down his back.  “So no sign that they left either.”

“No, Mand’alor.  We will remain on guard and I can assign a decoy to your room.”

“No,” Din said forcefully.  “Absolutely not.  I won’t endanger anyone that way and if this assassin is as good as they seem, it would be pointless anyway.  They would be smart enough to figure out I’ve been moved.”

Oros nodded.  “You should stay here tonight under guard.  And wear your armor as you sleep.”

Din thought about debating that he didn’t need sleep, but he was exhausted and despite the bacta his back still hurt a lot, so he nodded.

“We won’t stop until we find this assassin,” Oros promised him, before giving out orders to the guards.  Din watched them file outside, seeing several positioning themselves in front of the door before it closed.

The armor weighed heavily on his injury but Din put it back on anyway, breastplate and backplate and gauntlets, checking to make sure the whistling birds and flamethrower were ready to go before putting on the helmet and laying down.  It was a strange feeling, laying there in full armor.  He hadn’t realized just how used he’d gotten to sleeping in regular clothes here on Mandalore.  With Grogu he’d barely been able to take off the helmet, the curious child too young to understand boundaries and able to open the bunk or privy doors at a moment’s notice with his magic powers.  But things had changed since he became the Mand’alor three years ago… and since he’d gotten used to having someone share his bed.

He pulled the comm back out to try again, pinging Cara’s channel.  No answer once again.  Just a hazy image of the Marshal of Nevarro looking back at him sternly.

He missed her.  He wanted her here.  He wanted to hear her assure him that she would personally beat the hell out of this assassin if they showed their face and he wanted to hear her promise that she would have his back, just like she had since they’d met on Sorgan.  Din was used to fighting for his life; the last three years filled with more political than physical combat had been the exception, not the norm.  But ever since he’d met Cara, he’d realized just how valuable it was to have someone at his back, and within a year after he’d decided he didn’t just want her to watch his back, he wanted her at his side.  Cara understood.  She understood him like no one else, and right now he wanted the comfort of her presence.

-

He watched the turbolift door shut, a final wall between him and Grogu, so he could finally let his face fall where his son couldn’t see.  His son… he had just given away his son… what if it wasn’t right?  What if this Jedi wasn’t a good teacher, wouldn’t take care of Grogu the way he needed to be taken care of, he hadn’t even remembered to give Grogu back his favorite ball…

“Hey,” said a voice, and he blinked to try and clear his eyes and turned around.  But Cara was carefully staring at the ground, his helmet lifted in front so she couldn’t see his face.  He took it and put it back on, now self-conscious.  Bo-Katan, Koska, Fennec, and even Gideon were all staring right at him.  He hated it, all he wanted right now was to hide and cry.  He felt like a little boy again, after leaving Aq Vetina with the Mandalorians and realizing his life would never be the same.

“Mando?” Cara asked softly.

He tried to speak.  He didn’t even know what to say and all that came out was a choked sound.

“You know who that was, right?” Cara asked.

“Jedi,” he managed to say.  An enemy sorcerer.  A man I don’t even know, and I just gave him my child.  Grogu wanted to go, but he’s just a kid, he doesn’t know…

“That’s Luke Skywalker,” Cara said.  “He was one of the leaders of the Rebellion, back in the day.  Never met him personally, but he was a hero.  He’s the one who destroyed the Death Star.  That thing that -”  For a split second her face twisted in grief and pain but then it smoothed back out.  “It was what destroyed Alderaan.  And he fired the shot that took it out.  Three years later he killed Darth Vader and the Emperor.  He’s a hero, and on top of that I never heard a bad word about him.  Everyone who fought alongside him said he was loyal and kind and never left a man behind.  I know he will take good care of your kid.  I promise he’s safe.”

Safe.  Din nodded.  Cara wouldn’t lie, not to him, and not about Alderaan.  Hadn’t he just seen himself that the Jedi was a formidable warrior?  He could keep Grogu safe…

Boba’s voice crackled over the comm.  “So did you all leave on the X-wing or do you need picked up?”

“It’s all clear.  You can land,” Fennec answered.

“We’re taking this ship,” Bo-Katan said immediately, glaring at Din as if to challenge him.

He couldn’t give a fuck.  His chest hurt as he thought of the Razor Crest, something else lost to this damn quest.  “I don’t care.”

“You leaving with us?” Fennec asked him.  “Dune, what about you?”

“I’m calling for the New Republic,” Cara said.  “I’m going to need help getting this one to Coruscant.”

“He should be killed,” snapped Bo-Katan, looking right at Din.  “He razed Mandalore!  He killed our people!”

“He’s wanted alive,” he told Bo-Katan tiredly.  Cara nodded her thanks and dragged Gideon to his feet.

“I’m claiming this ship!” Bo-Katan declared, looking around as if she expected a protest.

Din didn’t have the energy to give one even if he cared.  “Fine.  We’re leaving.”

Cara dragged Gideon along; Fennec walked alongside them with her blaster ready and Din trailed behind, knowing he was in no state to be helping Cara guard Gideon.  At least Grogu was far away from the Grand Moff, even if Gideon tried anything.

Before he knew it they were in the hangar, Boba standing before Slave 1.  “Oh, that one’s going to fund us for a good long time,” Boba said, sounding pleased.

“I need to rendezvous with New Republic forces on Nevarro so I can arrange transport to Coruscant,” Cara said.  “The payout can be split between all of us there, too.”

“I hope a portion is sent to the survivors of Alderaan,” Gideon said silkily.  “Let them know it’s in my name, will you?”

Cara’s face twisted horribly, and Din quickly asked, “Boba, do you have carboniting equipment?”

“Funny you should ask, I recently added a carboniting unit.  Seemed less maintenance than using the wall cells,” Boba said; his face was behind the helmet but his wolfish grin saturated his voice.  “I’ve been wanting to try it out.”

Gideon hissed in fury, but Din grabbed one arm and Cara the other, and together they shoved him into the unit and Boba activated it, and Gideon was quickly silenced.

“I like him better this way,” muttered Cara.

“Let’s go,” said Fennec, shutting the ship’s ramp and following Boba up to the cockpit.  Din stood there, the noise of the ship ringing through his ears.  He realized the Darksaber was still in his hand.  It felt so heavy.

“Din?”

He blinked and looked up at Cara.  “Huh?”

“I asked what you were going to do now,” Cara asked.

He stared at her, then at the Darksaber, but all he could really see was Grogu.  “I don’t know.”

“Gideon is going to keep me busy… plenty of reports and bullshit paperwork and that’s if I don’t have to report in personally anywhere.  You could come to Nevarro,” Cara offered.

Nevarro.  His old home, but the enclave was burned out now.  He couldn’t ask the Armorer for her counsel this time, or even talk to Paz about the Mandalorian history he loved to study.  Greef had made the place legit; were there even Guild jobs for him to lose himself in anymore?  Maybe he should have stayed in the first place.  Grogu could learn in that little school and he would go back and pick him up and take him home, make him dinner for the evening like he used to do, find some holostory to listen to together…

He almost jumped as suddenly arms wrapped around him and squeezed briefly before letting up.  “Sorry…” said Cara.  “You just looked like you needed it.”

He wrapped his arms back around her and she hugged back, and at least for one moment, he felt anchored again in the world.

#fic #the mandalorian #caradin #caralorian #cara dune #din djarin #grogu

[im-poe-dameron]

GHOST OF A FATHER

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since last august, but finally i managed to churn out the last hundred words. i don't even know if it's good or if it makes any sense at all, but i had to write it. it's been awhile since i've posted anything canon mando and of course i had to go for absolute angst. enjoy!

summary: there's a legend told about a mandalorian who chose to protect his child.

word count: 3.3k+

pairing: din djarin x reader (no romance just strangers)

warnings: angst upon angst upon angst, most likely continuity errors.

“Where did you say we were supposed to end up?” Finn asked, leaping down from the rock you were standing on.

“They didn’t,” Rey said, coming up behind you—pushing her hood down far enough to see where you had in fact ended up.

When you received a transmission telling you to come to the planet Mantessa you weren’t sure what to expect. There had been no sign off, no way to tell that this was a legitimate message, but something told you to go. That to ignore this would be proven as a mistake later on. You were told that it was a waste of time to go and there wasn’t much to refute that statement, yet there you were. Standing amidst the trees on the very planet you were told to come to.

In your mind you figured you were going to come across a young Force sensitive—perhaps a child in need of training. It’s what drew you in to begin with; the prospect of finally training someone on your own. Passing down a piece of knowledge that had been given to you. Yet there was no one to be seen for miles. You landed three days ago and after having wandered through what seemed like an endless jungle, you were beginning to doubt that anybody actually inhabited this planet to begin with.

“We should just go back,” Finn said, following you as you began to hike up a different trail. “It’ll be safer that way. Contact Poe and let him know we’re returning to the ship.”

“I didn’t come here to leave without knowing why.” You glanced up towards the trees, wondering what on earth was so special about this place to begin with. Sunlight could barely come through the area due to the overgrowth of forage. “Besides—Poe followed us up here.”

Finn scoffed. “No he didn’t.”

“You can ask him yourself.”

Movement in the trees echoed around you, followed by a certain pilot letting out a cuss as he nearly tripped over the roots. You had wondered when he’d follow the three of you up here—having gotten tired of waiting around. After all, it had been awhile since the four of you embarked on such a mission. Especially after what happened at the battle that defeated The First Order for good.

Funny to think that nearly an entire decade had passed since then and there you were, a fully trained Jedi soon to be master, helping Finn and Rey go in search of others. Life had become...peaceful. Serene enough to nearly seem like a dream in the end and yet there you were standing amidst the trees, no worries in sight. Other than the main one at hand. Who were you looking for?

“You followed us?” Rey asked, a smile on her face as she leaned against the rock.

Poe shrugged. “I got bored.”

“Should have brought your son to help us.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You and I both know he isn’t interested in becoming a pilot. I’m starting to wonder if he’s actually my son.”

Tuning out their conversation you began to walk further up the ridge, feeling something tug in the base of your chest. A feeling you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. You knew this place—had seen it somewhere a long time ago, possibly in a dream—yet you couldn’t quite make out why. What had been so important about this place for you to dream of it that long ago? Before you were tasked with coming here.

“This way,” you said softly, pressing your palm into the tree before you. The tug in your chest becoming stronger with every passing second. You knew what lay before you, knew where to go and without questioning yourself further you began to head through the trees.

“How do you know?” Poe asked behind you, grumbling about how he wasn’t cut out for missions anymore.

You smiled, already knowing he’d hate your answer and chose not to respond. Most Jedi went off feeling alone when going in search of Force sensitives, but if you were lucky you’d manage to have contact long before then. Before any of this. They didn’t question you further thankfully, and instead began to trek after you—the sounds of the forest much louder than before. As if they were warning someone you were coming; nature working together to keep itself protected against those that didn’t belong.

“Have you heard the stories about this place?” Rey asked.

“Stories?”

She nodded, pausing to glance down at the floor as a tremble passed beneath her. “They say the forest is haunted.”

You chuckled, turning away to continue on your way. “They probably say it to keep people away from it. A trick.”

“Haunted...by who?” Finn inquired, catching up with you.

“Nobody knows for sure. The stories change every time. Last I heard it was a Jedi who haunts this place after having had a gruesome death, but there’s another legend that says someone else resides here. Looking over the forest and its people.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a war hero,” you said, glancing over at Poe who hung off her every word. He wasn’t one to mess with the supernatural, especially when it came to ghosts in forests.

You could recall the mission that landed him stuck in a Jedi temple for four days being surrounded by the Force ghosts of other Jedi. Some he couldn’t see, but still felt and after you managed to find him he was ready to leave the planet and never return. For good. Finn had been right there with him the entire time in an attempt to reassure him that whoever haunted the building wasn’t there to harm him.

The confirmation that they were real only made him want to leave more.

“No, apparently it’s a Mandalorian.”

Far more ridiculous than the tale about the Jedi living here. Even you knew that Mandalorians were unable to come back through the Force unless they were sensitive to it themselves. Choosing to remain silent on the matter altogether you continued on your way, stepping over vines and roots so as not to fall on your face. The terrain was rougher than you expected, but the four of you had survived much worse. What was spending a few days in the forest going to do?

“There are no more Mandalorians,” you called over your shoulder. “As far as I know the last one was found on Tatooine.”

“I know all about the last King of Tatooine,” she said. “I’m talking about this one. The one who protected a Force sensitive child before The First Order ever came to be created.”

You froze, the tug in your chest almost painful as soon as the words left her mouth, because you recognized this story. Knew it without ever having heard it to begin with. But how could that be possible? You would have had to hear it told somewhere at some point in your life. Maybe you did—long before the war, long before you finished your training. Except you couldn’t bring up the memory for the life of you—almost as if it was lodged in the far reaches of your mind.

Unable to be found again.

“Master Skywalker told the legend to me while I was training,” she said, halting her movements and pushing the stray hair out of her eyes. “He had come across this Mandalorian while searching for others to train.”

They were just stories. You repeated the words in your head as you began to glance around the darkened forest. Just legends that had to be told in order to keep people in line one way or another; the same stories that were told about the past of the Jedi, those that died before they could be trained fully. Stories to warn others of repeating the same mistakes others did in the past.

“Why this planet? This forest? Did he just choose to reside here?” Finn asked, his head turning in the direction yours did as a sound echoed off the trees.

“You and I both know that’s not how ghosts work,” you said, narrowing your eyes at the sight of someone standing a few feet away. “Hello?”

Your hand instinctively went to the lightsaber that hung at your side as the fog began to slowly lift from the area. The figure of a man now coming clear through it and nearly sending you stumbling back off the edge of the hill. It wasn’t possible. Had to be a trick your mind was playing on you after all the talk about haunted areas, because in the middle of the forest stood a Mandalorian. His silver armor reflecting what light broke through the trees, a blaster attached to his hip and a spear on his back.

“Is that—” Poe began to say, stepping forward, his hand reaching for his blaster but what good would weapons do against a ghost?

If it truly was one.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered—the tug in your chest stronger now that you watched the man begin to walk towards you. His movements silent, each step measured and slow. As if he wasn’t in a rush to do much of anything anymore.

Finn stepped closer, glancing back at you and Rey, his hands clenched at his sides. “Do you feel it too?”

Even you couldn’t deny the way the air shifted, the strength in the Force nearly flooded your body the longer you stood there. Potent enough to be shocking. Perhaps he was the force sensitive you were looking for all along, the person who had called you here. The internal war within your mind seemed to be put at a stop the second you saw it—how his body seemed to not only reflect light but allow it to pass through him. The blue haze around his body was enough to confirm what Rey had been saying all along.

“He’s not—he’s a ghost,” you said, taking a few steps closer towards him as he stopped mere feet away.

“So we’re dealing with Mandalorian Force ghosts now?” Poe asked, already slipping the blaster from his side.

You shook your head, noticing something behind him. Another small figure shifting silently through the forest. The movements were slow enough to allow you to keep your eyes trained on him, but you couldn’t take your gaze away from the man who now stood directly in front of you. His helmet tilted down as he looked at you fully—the transparency of his body now clear enough to be noticeable.

“Can you speak?” you asked, wanting to reach a hand out and see if maybe you actually were going insane. Perhaps you would be touching a physical body instead of an apparition created by nothing but the Force.

His head tilted to the side slightly, seeming to regard you carefully, before his arms began to raise. The movement was enough to have Poe raise his blaster, the sound of a lightsaber coming to life let you know someone was on guard. The urge to pull out a weapon grew with every passing minute, but you couldn’t move—didn’t want to move. Not when this was the first time you would ever be able to witness a Mandalorian as  Force ghost stand before you.

You watched as he lifted the helmet from his head, revealing the face of a man. The small lines in his face and the look in his eyes made you wonder how old he had been when he passed. What had been his story for him to wind up in the middle of this forest? The curiosity to ask more questions than you knew what to do with grew, but your mouth wouldn’t open. No words would escape free, because you didn’t know what to do in a situation like this.

Never had this happened before.

“Who are you?” you asked, hand reaching out hesitantly only to come in contact with the feel of cold metal. Faint enough to be a figment of your imagination, but strong enough to prove that he was still there in some ways. Still a man even in death.

He merely smiled, eyes holding enough sadness in them to show he hadn’t lived a life filled with joy. Pain had been his constant friend, something he could count on rather than loathe. Both finding balance with each other within the confines of his body; something sheltered by armor that seemed to be a type of metal in its purest form.

You were far too distracted by him to notice the figure behind him now approaching closer, the steps of it faint but still there. Glancing down you could see a creature wearing a cloak that looked similar to the one you wore. A metal pauldron with an engraving on it was attached to his shoulder—the same one that the Mandalorian was wearing. A clue as to who this Mandalorian was—who he had been.

Your hand fell to your side, and you quickly crouched down watching as whoever this was began to step closer. The small bits of armor beneath his robe showed through, giving you insight into his story a bit. He must have known this Mandalorian—enough so to wear his armor as if it were his own. This was why you were called here, why you felt the shift in the Force, why you knew this place long before you arrived. Because of him.

“You brought us here,” you said, not really asking the question, because you knew the answer. Knew that he had been calling out to you all along.

He nodded, hand reaching out for yours and resting against your palm as his voice echoed in your mind. “Are the Jedi safe now?”

“Yes,” you replied, smiling as he seemed to push his emotions outwards—towards you. “They’re safe—we’re safe.”

His hand patted your own, head looking up towards the Mandalorian who had joined you in crouching onto the ground. A movement that seemed to come to him naturally. You wondered if he’d done it over the years, more times than he could count, all because of him.

“I can go with you now.”

“Come with me now? What do you mean? Did you have to remain here?”

Rey’s hand rested on your shoulder as she joined. “Were you a student of Master Skywalker?”

He nodded, tilting his head down slowly as if to move quickly wasn’t necessary at the time. You’d heard the stories from Rey—knew how Luke Skywalker’s school had met its end tragically. If he was a part of it, a remaining survivor, then that means he’d been in hiding for who knows how long. You put the pieces together as Rey spoke to him about where he was from, what his story was, and you began to realize who this was. Who both of them were.

“The Mandalorian and the child,” you whispered, standing straight to mull over your thoughts.

“What, like the legend?” Finn asked.

“It makes sense. A Force sensitive child who left the school—who just so happens to be guarded by a Mandalorian.”

“Which makes him—” Finn glanced over at the man who now stood to his full height. Eyes watching the three of you warily; as if he was still on guard when it came to newer people.

You took in a breath, the final piece setting itself into place. “His father.”

So, the stories had been true all along. The tale of a young padawan, training to be a Jedi with the ties to a Mandalorian clan—a clan of two. Something you didn’t think to be possible now stood before you. A Jedi of two lives. Mandalorian and Jedi—coexisting together to create his past, his future, and the Jedi he was today. You weren’t sure why he called out to you of all people, but there was no going back on this. No refusing to bring him to the new school, because he was a part of the Jedi just as much as he was a part of his other clan.

“How long have you been here?” Finn asked as you stood off to the side, attempting to regain any memory as to how you knew this place. Except no matter how hard you wracked your brain you couldn't locate an explanation.

“Since long before The First Order.”

He hid here since before Ben Solo became Kylo Ren, since before the war that changed the tides of everything. He remained here by himself. Yet you couldn’t say that with certainty, couldn’t deny the Mandalorian who stood before you, merely a wisp in the air now. A ghost that knew he would no longer need to remain in one place. Who knew that the time for goodbye would come again.

Sooner than either of them expected.

“How has he managed to come back?” you asked. Finn shrugged, his eyes glancing warily at the man.

Behind you Rey stepped closer, inspecting the Mandalorian with a look you knew all too well in her eyes. “Life force,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“The life force of another being could be able to transfer someone’s consciousness to the Force.” She knelt down beside you, her hand reaching for him. “It’s never been done before so I don’t know if it’s possible but…”

“It might be,” you said, eyes once again catching the Mandalorian’s. “What happens when we leave? Will he come with us?”

For the first time, the man spoke, his voice just as familiar as him. “Wherever he goes, I go.”

It was unusual to see such a connection happen through the Force, only happening once before with Rey. Yet there they stood. A father and his adopted son, fully intent on protecting him—even in death remaining right by his side. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted, they wouldn’t be parting ways today and you finally understood why you were called here. Why you saw them over and over again through the Force.

You were always meant to have a padawan…always meant to train someone else. You just never thought it would turn out like this.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

Once again his voice echoed in your mind; small…as if he was still wary about his voice. “Grogu.”

“Grogu,” you breathed. “I suppose I’m your new Master.”

He smiled, eyes glancing up at you with the curiosity of a child. You weren’t sure how old he was, but he knew far more than even you—had seen things that would remain with him until the end of his life. Yet there was one thing he refused to let go of, even as you offered him the prospect of a new life. His father. Whatever happened to cause the Mandalorian’s death was a mystery to you, but it revolved around his child—you knew that much. A part of you could recall Master Skywalker’s voice echoing in your head.

Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments.

Yet even you had broken that rule. You were attached to the people around you—their friendship kept you alive in more ways than one and the thought of saying goodbye to them twisted your heart painfully. So who were you to say if Grogu should remain with his father or finally say goodbye. No…you wouldn’t make that choice for him—you couldn’t.

“You don’t have to say goodbye,” you told him, a smile gracing your lips. “I won’t allow that.”

For the second time, you heard his voice beside you—eyes either glassy with tears or simply the slight shine of his projection. “Thank you.”

Nodding, you stood—waiting for Grogu to begin walking, his pace slower than yours. He’d chosen a different path, you could see it now, but in the end he found what he needed to find. The Mandalorian walked beside you, his helmet now atop his head as the others went ahead to make sure the ship still remained intact. No words were said, but nothing truly had to be spoken. Not when you finally understood what was expected of you—what the Force ghost of previous Jedi led you to.

Towards Grogu—not a Jedi, but not a Mandalorian either. Someone who was between the lines of what constituted either; who refused to choose one or the other.

Settling for perfect balance instead.

Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad

"I know your name as my child"

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin one shot #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #my writing #this is what happens when i listen to the farewell theme from s2 too many times

[all-the-things-2020]

Finding His Way - Chapter Four

Summary: A little comedy, a little mutual attraction, and some father/son bonding.

Rating: PG

Mariana looked up and stifled a laugh. “You want to what?”

“Teach you how to shoot a blaster,” Din repeated. She rolled her eyes.

“Um, you have met me, right? How many times have I hurt myself just since you’ve known me? And you want to put an actual weapon in my hand?”

“Yes. The next time we go planetside, I’d feel better if you had some way to defend yourself … and the kid. And I’m sure the inhabitants of that planet would feel better if you actually knew what you were doing.” Din had been thinking about their encounter with the muggers on Helicon. It had seemed like a safe enough place, which is why he’d let her and the kid accompany him on the supply run, and they’d still run into trouble. Most of the planets he visited were much worse, and he really would feel better knowing he wasn’t the only one who was armed.

“It’s your funeral,” Mariana said. She turned off her data pad and stood up.

Din walked across the cargo area and released the lock on his arsenal. As the doors whooshed open to reveal the array of weapons, he heard Mariana take in a sharp breath. It is pretty impressive, he admitted, his eyes roaming fondly over the collection he’d accumulated over the years. He opened a drawer and pulled out a Glie-44. He’d been up half the night cleaning and modifying it for her. He held it up.

“This is a Glie-44 blaster,” he said. “Pretty basic, not too much kick to it, so I don’t think you should have too much trouble with it. I’ve set it up for VR training, and it’s loaded with blanks right now, so even if you do manage to shoot it for real, you can’t do any real damage.”

She snorted. “I wouldn’t bet on that.” Still, she held out her hand and took the blaster from him. It looked a lot bigger in her hand, but it was still the lightest gun he had.

The kid dropped his froggy as soon as he saw that Mariana had an even more interesting toy. He didn’t try to touch it, though. He listened almost as intently as she did while Din explained the various parts of the blaster. It made Din wish the kid wasn’t so small and fragile; how wonderful would it be to train his foundling to be a proper Mandalorian warrior? Of course, given that the child was already 50 years old, by the time he was old enough to be trusted with a weapon, Din might be too old. Or dead, he mused soberly. All the more reason to find the kid’s people.

Once he was sure Mariana knew which end of the blaster to point at the target, Din set up the holoprojector in the cargo bay and initiated a basic target practice program. A large bright green target hung in the air near the far wall.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Try a shot and see how it feels.” Once he saw how she handled the gun, he’d know what she needed to be corrected on.

**************

Mariana’s hands were sweaty and her mouth was dry. The blaster felt enormous as she lifted it, not really sure how to aim it. She pointed it in the general direction of the target, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger. The blaster fired a virtual charge and her hand flew up and back with the recoil.

.

“How was that?”

Din was silent for a moment, while he exchanged a look with the kid. “That. Was. The most spectacularly bad shot I have ever seen in my life,” he said. He was shaking with laughter by the end.

Mariana tried to look indignant, but she knew it really had been a terrible shot. “Well, I’ve never done this before,” she said.

“Obviously,” Din said drily.

“I’m glad I amuse you.”

The kid watched their exchange, his little head swiveling back and forth as if he was at a flingball match. Sometimes Mariana was sure he understood everything they said, even though he was still pre-verbal himself.

Din cleared his throat, stifling another laugh. “Well, at least I know what I’m working with.” He paused for a beat. “Which isn’t much.”

Mariana stuck her tongue out at him, which delighted the kid. They were clearly more entertaining than frog vids.

“Seriously, though,” Din said, “let’s start with how to hold the blaster properly.” He took the gun from her and demonstrated. “Until you’re better, hold it with two hands. You’ll be steadier and the recoil won’t be as bad.” He handed it back to her and she tried to hold it the way he had.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Put your dominant hand on top. You’ll have better control.” He stepped behind her and reached around to adjust her hands. “There. Now lift it just a bit more …” She felt him crouch down a little so he was looking right over her shoulder. If he hadn’t been wearing a helmet, she’d have been able to feel his breath on the back of her neck. It made it extremely hard to concentrate on what he was telling her.

*****************

Din was finding it hard to concentrate on what he was doing. Partly it was because Mariana was incredibly inept with a blaster and teaching her was proving to be difficult, but mostly it was because in order to show her how to handle the gun, he had to constantly adjust her hands, her stance, her head (how in the world did she expect to hit the target if she wouldn’t look at it?). He wasn’t used to touching anyone except the kid and it was … distracting. Especially once her hair started coming loose from its braid and he had to fight the urge to tuck the loose strands back into place.

Finally, after she’d managed to wing the edge of the target, he ended the lesson. “That’s enough for today. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Sorry I’m so bad at this,” she said, her face flushed with what he assumed was embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, taking the blaster back. “Nobody’s a perfect shot on their first try.”

She laughed. “You’re just being kind. I know I’m a complete disaster.”

It was true, but Din didn’t want her to feel bad. “You make up for it in other ways.” She blushed again, but this time Din felt his own face grow hot. He hadn’t realized how it would sound; he really was not good at this.

After an awkward silence, she cleared her throat and said, “Speaking of which, my credentials with the Galactic Archive were fully restored this morning. Apparently, when you don’t use them for a decade, they have to make sure you’re still alive before they’ll give you access. I put in some queries and should start getting some hits soon.” She scooped up the kid. “Hopefully, we’ll get some clues to where you come from, little guy.”

“That’s good,” said Din, although he felt his heart sink a little at the thought of finding the kid’s people. It was what was best for him, of course, but Din knew he’d miss the womp rat terribly. He watched Mariana carry the kid back to the galley, where she’d left her data pad on the table. Once they found the kid’s people, she’d be out of a job, and although he would never admit it, he’d miss her, too.

********************

Mariana’s eyes were glazing over. Her query for documents containing the word “Jedi” had produced an avalanche of results. Most of them were dry government records of reports from the Jedi High Council to the Senate, but she had to scan through them all in case there was any mention of the child’s species. This was the part of research she liked the least: combing through endless documents for hours on end. Fortunately, she had a solution for the frustration.

She exited the results list and entered a new query: “Mandalorian AND creed AND helmet.” This produced a much shorter, but still substantial list of documents, most of which were narrative texts, which were much more entertaining reading than government reports. Din was up in the cockpit with the kid, so she took the data pad into her bunk and curled up to read more comfortably, kicking off her boots and tucking her feet under the blanket.

Three hours later, she turned off the data pad, her mind swirling with the kernel of an idea. She wasn’t sure how Din would react to it, but it was worth a shot.

********************

Blaster practice was slightly more productive the next morning. Mariana was more comfortable handling the weapon and Din was able to step back a bit and be less hands on, which seemed to help. It could be unsettling to have someone watching right over one’s shoulder, so he tried to give her more space. It helped him concentrate better, too.

After practice, he played with the kid for a while while she continued her research. How she could sit so still for hours on end was beyond him, but he could almost hear the gears in her mind working as she scanned and scrolled and tapped out notes.

She fixed lunch for herself and the kid, and Din went up to the cockpit to check on things. Until they had a definite destination in mind, he had the ship set on a random course, trending in the general direction of a cluster of planets that would be suitable for a resupply run, and could possibly provide a few paying jobs.

After lunch, the kid took a nap, and Din assumed Mariana went back to her research. He ran some diagnostics on the ship’s systems, did some routine maintenance on a few weapons … the usual busy work that filled his days when he was in transit from one job to another. When the kid woke from his nap, Mariana played with him, showing him how to build a tower with the building blocks. Din smiled to himself when the kid showed more interest in knocking down the tower than in building it; he had vague memories of doing much the same when he was small, before … the smile faded as he shoved the memory back into the compartment he kept it in.

He continued working as Mariana fixed dinner and fed the kid, only stopping when she passed him on her way to her bunk, saying only, “I fixed a plate for you.” As the bunk door whooshed shut, it occurred to him that she’d been rather quiet and subdued all day. Maybe it was her difficulties with the blaster, or maybe her research wasn’t going well … or maybe it was going too well. Could she have already discovered something about the kid’s people?

He ate quickly, washed up and knocked on her bunk door.

“Can I talk to you?” she said hesitantly.

“Of course.” He was right; something was wrong.

They sat at the table in the galley. She had her data pad in her hand and set it down on the table between them. “You found something,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “but not what you think.” She tapped a few keys, pulling up a document. “The Jedi research is slow going, and I haven’t found anything of any use so far. But … when I hit a dead end, I like to switch gears and work on a different project for a while. And that’s how I found this.”

“It’s a book by a linguist who specializes in the relationship between language and belief. In this chapter, he looks at the Mandalorian creed … and in this particular section, which I’ve highlighted, he talks about the helmet rule.”

Din was confused. “I don’t understand. Why were you researching that?”

She looked sheepish. “When I encounter something I’m not familiar with, I like to learn as much as possible about it. You’re the first Mandalorian I’ve ever met, so naturally I’m curious about your culture. Anyway … what Glenor is saying here is that some — well, he calls them ‘sects’ but you might have another name for them — some sects use the word ‘another’ in this part of the creed, while others use the term ‘others.’ Basically, his point is that for some groups of Mandalorians, the rule is ‘the helmet will not be removed in the presence of another,’ meaning it stays on all the time, unless the wearer is alone. This seems to be the interpretation you were raised with.”

Din nodded, “Yes, this is the Way.”

“But for some other sects, the rule is ‘the helmet will not be removed in the presence of Others,’ which can be interpreted in one of two ways. To some groups, Others refers to anyone who is not Mandalorian; to other groups, it refers to anyone who is not part of the wearer’s family or clan.” She looked up at him. “You’re more of an expert on this than I am, but the way I’m reading it, this means that technically, you can take your helmet off in front of the kid, since he’s a member of your clan. I’m … I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I had a professor once who taught us that even if there is an objective Truth out there (which is debatable in its own right), there is definitely more than one path to that Truth. Every religion, every creed, every belief system … they are all equally valid as long as they bring their followers closer to the Truth. So .. it’s completely up to you, and only you know how to interpret the Way and the creed, but for what it’s worth … I think a son deserves to see his father’s face.”

She handed him the data pad and returned to her bunk, where the kid was quietly playing with his froggy. Din stared at the data pad for several minutes before he picked it up. It had never occurred to him that there could be more than one way to understand the Way. He had been told the rules to follow and he had done so, with no reason to question them.

He went up to the cockpit and started reading.

**************

The next morning, Mariana got up and prepared breakfast as she usually did. As she was dishing up porridge for the kid, Din appeared at the bottom of the ladder that led to the cockpit. “I’ll feed him,” he said, handing her data pad back to her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said. She fought back a grin.

“Hear that, kiddo, Daddy’s going to eat breakfast with you today,” she said. “I’ll just take mine back to the bunk, and I’ll see you later.” She tweaked the kid’s nose and winked at Din before filling her own bowl and taking it and the data pad back into her room.

She found it hard to swallow her porridge, though. She was absolutely thrilled that Din had decided to take this step, but at the same time, it was hard not to feel left out. She’d spent a great deal of her life being the odd one out, the weird kid who would rather read than play sports, the girl who went to the party without a date. She’d finally found a place where she thought she might fit in, and now here she was, alone again. She shouldn’t be jealous of a father and son spending quality time together; after all, that was the whole point of bringing Glenor’s text to Din’s attention. But it still brought a lump to her throat.

*****************

Din took a deep breath, pressed the latches to either side of his neck and removed his helmet. He carefully set it down on the table and turned to face his son.

“Da!” the kid cried, making grabby hands and bouncing up and down on his feet. Din bent down and picked him up.

“Yeah, ad’ika, it’s me,” he said, trying to keep his voice from quavering. The kid pressed his small green hands against Din’s cheeks, giggling madly. “I did a lot of thinking last night, and I decided that maybe the Way is less a single path and more of … a braid of trails. They’re all slightly different, but they get you to the same place in the end. From now on, I take my helmet off when I’m with my clan. And that’s you, kiddo.”

“Da,” the kid said again, more softly this time.

Din nodded. “Let’s eat.”

#the mandalorian #star wars #grogu #baby yoda #din djarin #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x original female character

[unfortunate-arrow]

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

→ for @hp-12monthsofmagic’s January prompt of “Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” This story centers around Sara O’Donnell and her eldest son, Declan, having a heart-to-heart shortly before his seventh year.

August 30, 2018 — The O’Donnell-Lee Creature Reserve and Rehabilitation Center, County Donegal, Ireland

“Hey, kiddo,” Sara O’Donnell-Lee said, sitting down on the stone wall next to her eldest son, staring out at the sea and sky. The sea was surprisingly violent, crashing against the cliffs and the small sandy beach below, as if it could sense the turmoil in the teenager’s mind. The sky, on the other hand, was the canvas of the setting sun, painted with yellows and oranges and pinks and purples and reds. 

“Kiddo, come on, talk to me,” she said, nudging the auburn-haired boy. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Declan sighed, but didn’t say anything. Sara leaned over and squeezed her son’s hand. It didn’t matter that he would be seventeen in less than two days. He would always be her baby, just like his sisters and brother would. “Kiddo…”

“Mum,” Declan said, a slight warning in his voice.

“I’m worried about you, Dec. You’ve been moping since your letter came. Did the captain position go to someone else? Or because Violet’s a prefect?”

“I’m still the captain. And I’m not annoyed that Violet’s a prefect. Everyone knew she would be. She’s just like Dora. And Brendan. I’m fine.”

“You sound just like your uncle. And I never believed that Conor was fine when he said he was and I don’t believe you right now.”

Declan sighed again and stared out at the sky and sea. The sky was darker now, the warm colors having dissipated as the sun fell below the horizon. Instead, stars had started to dot the sky, twinkling little lights that hung like ornaments around the moon. The sea had calmed a bit too, the waves’ roar becoming a din, the background noise for the nocturnal creatures that would be starting to stir. 

“Hey, talk to me, Declan. Maybe I can help,” she said, moving to drape an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” he responded and Sara shook her head.

“Don’t use that on me, Declan Ryan. If I thought that you were actually fine, I would have left you to brood by the sea in peace.”

Declan let out an irritated sigh. “Fine. Scouts are coming to the first games of the season.” 

“For professional teams?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, watch the tone. You know I don’t get quidditch.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah, for the pro teams.”

“I’m sure you’re going to wow them.”

“There’s a lot of talent out there. But they’re expanding their scope beyond Hogwarts and Ireland and the Isles. That’s even more.”

“Declan. I have complete confidence in you and your abilities. I might not get quidditch, but I know that. You’ve got the nerve and the talent and the determination. I’ve been by your side for your entire life. I’ve seen you overcome your struggles with dyslexia and I know you don’t always feel like you’re a member of the family. But, I love you and I know how much work you have put into quidditch and honing your skills. You’re going to do amazing.”

“You’re my mum. Of course you’re going to say that.”

“Declan. I’m not just saying this because you’re my son. I truly believe that you can get a spot. You’re talented and determined and you’ve got the nerve to shoot for the stars.” 

#hp12mom #sara o’donnell #declan o’donnell lee #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm next gen #hpma #magic awakened #my writing #my aesthetic #fun fact: the creature reserve & rehab center was formerly the lynch manor!

[nimata-beroya]

MY THOUGHTS ON THE MANDALORIAN - Chapter 20 "The Foundling"

I loved this episode so much! And not because the same reason most hardcore fans loved it. I didn't recognize Ahmed Best until I saw someone mentioning that he had portrait Jar Jar Binks in the prequels, and we all know how many fans treated him. It's nice he's given a role where he's getting all the love and respect from the fans he always deserved. I honestly don't understand why people can't separate actor from character. It's fine if you don't like a character, but it's never okay to hate and harass an actor because of it.

Anyway, let me tell you why I loved this episode…

This episode gave me exactly what I was asking for. I wanted to see the dynamic within the covert, I wanted to see their daily life. I even hinted at it in a posted I did on this past Tuesday. Because we've only gotten crumbs about it in the 2 previous seasons. We saw a bit of it in the pilot episode of the series, then in chapter 3, and after that nothing until episode 5 of The Book of Boba Fett. Then, it was only the Armorer and Paz Vizla, a reunion which didn't go well for Din, as we know. So, I was curious of how they lived together.

I know people are complaining (what else is new! 🙄) about Bo stealing Din spotlight on his own show. That's not happening, for many reasons. We get to see Bo's POV because all that is new to her too as much as it's new to us, the audience. So it makes sense that we follow the character that it's as clueless as we are.

People want to see Din and Grogu every second of the show. I don't blame them for wanting that, but some need to understand that sometimes you need to focus on other characters to move the story forward. It's not just Bo's journey, her journey also reflects Din's, by contrasting or doing parallels to it. This episode referred as much to Grogu and Ragnar as it did to Bo. Everything is revealing pieces of a much larger puzzle.

I think what Bo's journey is about is that she needs to learn that leadership and respect is earned by what you do, not for what you are. She still has a bit of arrogance thinking that she can lead Mandalore because she had the Darksaber once, because she was a princess and was raised for it. Because she's the best, and she can do it alone. Also, it's about finding, or rather, building up her faith again.

In contrast, Din's journey is more about in finding confidence in his own leadership skills and learning not to have a blind faith. In short, finding a balance between traditions and pragmatism.

Watching foundlings training was great. I think that Din putting Grogu to fight against Ragnar was the best. I think it was a bit of integrating Grogu even more to the covert's life, but also it was about Din showing Grogu off. He was very confident in what his son can do, rightly so. And also, I think it's important that Grogu feels comfortable using The Force in a more relaxed environment and not just in life-threatening situations. Or to steal cookies and candy. That he mostly uses the Force when he's afraid is not a good thing. Things can get ugly fast if he's not careful.

I know that that Mandos are used to train for war, to attack, as warriors, but as far as we've seen, this particular covert, when they fight, it's always to protect. So, that's not much different than why Jedi trained.

Of course, we cannot ignore Grogu's trauma, but this is the life he chose. Mandalorians fight, so he needs to learn to. he can choose never attack someone.

I know everyone's first instinct when Din issued the challenge was to say "But he's a baby!" which sorta true, but not quite. First, Grogu is small but not helpless as he demonstrated it. Second, how is this so much different from Jedi training with Lightsabers or the ball droid thingy? The low setting laser bolts hurt more than the paintballs, I think. And Ragnar needed the lesson to drop a peg or 2 to his cockiness, don't you think? God lesson that of "One does not speak unless one knows."

And talking about Ragnar, poor kid! First, he gets his shebs kicked by someone 3 times smaller than him, and then gets kidnapped by a monster and almost eaten alive (that's without counting that he was almost eaten once before when he took the creed in the chapter 17). But I'm over the moon that they confirmed that he's Paz's son.

Order 66 flashback I knew it was coming, but it hurt like always does. I like the parallel of Grogu having it in the forge, just like Din had his back in Chapter 3. And we finally know who helped Grogu escape!! I didn't know about Kalleran Baq before, but I love him now. Instant love!

And my theory about who lend that H-type Nubian ship is that it wasn't Padmé. She didn't know what was happening, and she was busy worrying about her freshly-inducted Sith husband, so that leaves 2 possibilities. It was either one of her maids, Sabé, perhaps, or it was the only other Naboo senatorial representative we know. It'd be great and doubly vindicating if Jar Jar was the one who helped to save the most beloved character in SW universe.

I think The Armorer saw Grogu doing his flip-flops in the morning and said, yep, time for another piece of armor for him. The roundel it's kinda of weird, but I loved that it has the mudhorn sigil!!

As I said before, I'm liking the way Bo is earning respect from everyone in the covert, especially in this episode when she led the rescuing party. This what I mean by to be appreciated by what you do, not what you are. Let your actions speak for you.

But I admit that dinner scene when everyone goes somewhere to eat alone is absolutely depressing. Gawd! That helmet rule needs to go! I know that logistically it won't be as soon as we like, I think, specifically for Din, because of Pedro's other filming obligations, but at some point they need to relax it a bit. I mean, when I heard that rule I interpreted it as "you don't show your face to the enemy" as in the symbol of the T visor is enough to put fear in your enemy, not matter who's beneath it, because whoever it is it's going to kick your ass. But with family and people you trust, you can and should show your face. But what I know?!

I love the parallel of Din and Paz saving the other's son. Their relationship is great, and it's peak sibling energy, like hate you sometimes, sometimes I love you but if you need me I'll be there no matter what.

Very nice touch of the covert to adopt the three dragon-bird babies! I went: OH NO! 😱 when the croc-turtle monster ate the mom. The babies were going to die without her. But of course, I should've known better. Mandalorians will adopt any creature despite their species or age 🤣 I swear they go with a weapon in one hand and adoption papers in the other.

The scene where Bo-Katan confesses to the Armorer that she saw the Mythosaur was great. It showed what I suspected all along. Bo's silence about it was never because of a nefarious motive. It was simply because Bo has a hard time comprehend what she saw was true. I mean, any sane person would be wary. Anyone would doubt their sanity if suddenly they see a creature that was supposed to be extinct millennia ago.

The armorer's response to the confession can be interpreted in many ways. She might've believed Bo or she might've not. It could've been scheming or patronizing, or simply it doesn't matter to The Armorer what Bo saw as long Bo believes it, as the mythosaur is the symbols of what's to be a Mandalorian. I guess we have to wait and see how this goes.

Ok, this turned out to be longer than I expected, so I'll leave it here. I have a couple of thoughts in my head that sprung out after watching the episode, but I'll leave them for another post.

The review for the next episode also will be late because TBB season finale has priority for me, but I'm very curious about what will happen in the next episode. Are we going back to Nevarro, or we're going somewhere else? Because there's a footage around that shows a planet with dome cities?

Is this a flashback to Mandalore of old or a new planet? I need to know what going on!

#episode review #mando spoilers #the mandalorian #chapter 20 the foundling #din djarin #grogu #bo katan kryze #the armorer #paz vizsla

[nicolewoo]

Cub Part 7

Synopsis: Roman, Seth and Dean are a pack of werewolfs. Protecting their  city from the scumbags of the world ends up with a surprise when a  victim left for dead imprints on Roman Reigns.

Warnings: None

PART 7

The sound of a large vehicle approaching set my pack on guard, but Sika was quick to calm them. “It’s family.” He rose from the table quickly, grabbing his empty plate and walking to the kitchen before anyone could question him. I saw my pack’s worried expressions. They looked back and forth among themselves as if they were having a conversation.

After leaving his plate in the kitchen sink, Sika went outside to greet the newcomers. His loud voice bellowed “Welcome! Welcome! Thanks for coming.”

Greetings were exchanged, hugs and kisses given as another large vehicle pulled up next to the house. Roman and I stayed inside. Minutes later, two more large vehicles came toward the cabin.

I peeked out a window to see one large RV parked and two more pulling up the drive. There were more greetings and more laughter from outside. Once the RVs were parked and everyone was greeted, Sika stood on the front porch.

“Hey everyone!” Despite his loud bellow, it took a couple of minutes for everyone to settle down.

“Ok. Ok. Thanks for coming everyone. We’ve got a situation. I need you all to stay quiet and listen until I’m done talking. We don’t have time for a million questions. You have to hear me out and then get to work. Ok?”

Agreements were mumbled.

“Inside this cabin is a new wolf.” Despite his plea for silence, I could hear grumbles and whispers.”

“Quiet!” Sika roared, and the family obeyed. “Inside this cabin is a very kind, very sweet, VERY scared young wolf, who will turn for the first time tonight.” More mumbles and whispers. “SHE NEEDS” He yelled over the din “NEEDS us to help her get through. That has to be our number one priority right now. The Tribal Elders are aware of this situation, and we will meet with them as soon as our new wolf can travel. For now though, I’m going to give you the facts. Listen closely and save your questions for after I’m done.”

The family quieted down now. “My son Roman and his pack were down by the docks a few nights ago. They found a young woman who had been stabbed 17 times.”

“16 times.” I heard Seth correct. The sound of the door closing behind him was my first indication he’d gone out to join the family.

“Oh, 16 times. Anyway, she was almost dead.” Sika explained.

“Even if we’d gotten her to a hospital, she would have died.” Dean added.

“Roman, the cub and the pack all believe that the new wolf imprinted on Roman before he turned her. Because of that, he had to turn her to save her life.” Despite Sika’s orders, the family started talking again, so Sika raised his voice. “Folks, we’ve got less than 12 hours until she turns. Let’s not waste it talking. Our focus needs to be on helping the young wolf.” They quieted again. “I know. A human cannot imprint. We’ve all been taught that. We aren’t here to pass judgement. The tribal counsel will handle that.”

Roman came to me, took my hand and led me out onto the porch. There were about 20 people outside from toddlers to elderly. I gave an awkward wave to the family.  “This is Y/N.” Roman said. There was a dominant tone in his voice, and it was clear the family was used to obeying him. “I hope you all will help her get through this.” Murmurs of yes and of course ran through the group.

Roman continued, “Now, I own 500 acres here. There is plenty of room for us to run after we change. The East side is fenced off. The western boundry is at the base of the mountain. You can run from the old mill on the north to the river on the south end. There shouldn’t be any poachers but stay alert.” Parents of younger children were quick to tell the kids to stay close to them.

“Who here has seen a turn before?” Sika asked. Only one hand went up. Sika nodded to the elderly woman. “I’m going to have you work with medical, and I understand we have another wolf joining us later who has seen 2 people change. Her name is Shay… When she gets here, you need to work with her too.” The woman nodded.

“If you are in the medical profession, come on over to the picnic table. We’re going to talk about the meds and care.” Seth said before heading to the table. I was a little shocked when at least ½ the family went with him.

“Who is on food duty?” Sika asked, and hands shot up to volunteer. “Meet behind the house.” More of the family left. “Child care? Meet over by the RVs.” Almost the rest of the group left, leaving 2 senior citizens, a couple. “Mark, Anita. Can you guys help the groups coordinate?” Sika asked, and the two agreed.

With that Sika turned to Roman and me. “Ok, let’s get started.”

Mark, Anita, Sika, Roman and I all met in Roman’s bedroom. I didn’t know what still needed to be done, but as sat on the bed, I quickly found out.

“Do you have a passport?” Roman asked.

When I nodded no, Anita jumped in. “How about a birth certificate?”

“Yes. Back at my apartment.” I answered.

Sika said “We’re going to need to get that to travel to Samoa. Ro? Can you go? Maybe pick up some of Y/N’s things?” Roman agreed.

We started making a list of things for him to pick up. I called my landlord and explained the situation. He was ready to let Roman in when he arrived.

I waited until everyone else was busy, and I grabbed Roman’s hand. “Can you do me a big favor?”

He focused his attention on me and wrapped his arms around me. “Of course. What do you need?”

“On my coffee table is a portfolio. It’s Black with Pink and tan flowers on it. Can you grab that, and the pens underneath it?”

He looked confused. “What’s a portfolio?” He asked.

“It’s the only thing on my coffee table.” I answered then thought, “Well the portfolio and the remote controls.”

He nodded. “What’s in it?”

I paused for a second. As of tonight, he would know everything about me, but for now, I could hold onto one thing. I snuggled closer into Roman. “Just a little hobby of mine.” His eyes prodded me to continue, but I didn’t.

He answered with a nod and a kiss on my forehead. “Of course. Anything else you’d like me to get?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cabin, which I now realized was more like a mansion, was a hive of activity. The medical team spent hours working with Dean and Seth on how to put me to sleep for the transition. The people who had volunteered for food duty were constantly busy shopping, cooking and feeding not only me but everyone who had gathered. The child care group was outside with the kids keeping them busy and out of trouble.

Once Roman and Dean left to pick up my things, I found a chair on the front porch and sat flipping through social media on the phone my pack had picked up for me and watched the kids at play in front of the house.

I got so into the fan fic I was reading that I didn’t notice the twin boys who had approached me. “Who are you?”

I looked up to see them. They were positively adorable. Maybe 5 or 6 years old. Golden caramel skin and thick curly black hair. Both of them were splattered with mud.

“I’m Y/N,” I answered. “What are your names?”

The same boy answered, “I’m Timmy and this is Trever. We’re twins.” He seemed so proud of being a twin.

“You are!” I said in an impressed tone.

Naomi, who I’d met earlier, came running up to the porch. “I’m so sorry. They ain’t supposed to bug you.”

I smiled up at her, “They’re not bugging me. We were just getting to know each other.”

“Why are you here?” Trever finally spoke.

Naomi and I traded looks. We didn’t know what to tell them. “I think…. I think maybe you should let your mom tell you.” Naomi smiled as a thanks.

“Go play with your cousins.” Naomi tapped their backs and sent them back out to the others before sitting in a chair next to me.

“What are you going to tell them?” I asked.

Naomi shook her head while she thought. “I don’t know. You got any ideas?”

I leaned forward as I thought. My eyes naturally wandered to the kids, all playing in a field. They were having a blast. When Timmy and Trever returned, I saw the other kids asking them questions. “Maybe we should tell them all at the same time.” I suggested.

Naomi nodded. “Yeah. When Ro and Dean get back.” She turned to me. “Hey. How are you doing?” She took my hand reassuringly. “You ok?”

I squeezed her hand, “Honestly?” She nodded. “I’m scared shitless.”

She squeezed back, “I understand, but you got nothing to worry about. Dean is gonna make sure you sleep through the whole thing.”

I questioned if I should say this, but Naomi was so warm and welcoming. “It’s not just the pain. I’m….. I’m scared to be linked to my pack.” I admitted.

Naomi looked confused. “Why? It’s such an awesome thing.”

“I just….” I paused. Would she even understand this? She grew up a wolf. “What if they don’t like me?”

Naomi smiled big, “Oh girl! No need to worry about that! Your pack adores you. I can tell already.”

“And will it bother me? Having 3 other people in my head? I mean…… like… sometimes I need quiet. I’m scared I won’t get that. What happens if someone pisses me off and I think a bad thought? What if I have a mood swing and…..”

Naomi wrapped an arm around me “And you’re human? We all have those thoughts and insecurities. When I get like that, my pack helps calm me down. They work with you to help you through those types of things.”

“I’ve never been….” I paused as I realized I was pouring my emotions out to someone who was basically a stranger to me.

“Never been what?” She quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Never been….. good enough…. For anyone. Nobody has ever accepted me for who I am. What if they don’t like me? Accept me? I mean……” I trailed off as I wiped away tears.

Naomi squeezed her arm around me in a half-hug. “You are so SWEET! Trust me, you’re going to be accepted. You are already accepted.”

“But you’re not IN my head to hear my thoughts.”

She smiled at me. “I don’t need to be. Your tribe loves you already, and your pack is crazy about you. Trust me, you’re going to be accepted.”

A sudden wave of anger rolled over me, but it wasn’t from me.

Less than a minute later, Seth made a beeline toward me. “Cub?” he called on the way.

I answered, “I know. I feel it.”

Sika came from inside the house. “What’s happening?”

“Roman is pissed.” I answered. “I don’t know why.” Sika sat across from me on the porch.

Seth, now on the porch, asked me, “Is there anything in your apartment that would piss him off? Drugs? Something like that?”

I shook my head, “No. I can’t think of anything.”

Seth nodded his acknowledgment. “OK.” He answered as he pulled out his phone and called Roman. “What’s going on?” He asked. I waited with baited breath as he listened to Roman. After a few seconds, Seth grabbed my hand and pulled the phone away long enough to look at me and say, “You’re fine.” I breathed a sigh of relief, and Seth got off the phone.

Sika spoke up now, “How did you know, little wolf?”

The question threw me off. Wasn’t I supposed to be able to feel Roman’s emotions? “I felt it.” I said.

“They’re imprinted.” Fiafia said from the side of the porch.

Seth nodded. “They are.” He looked at Sika.

“That’s not possible.” Sika answered, and I saw Seth and Naomi tense up. It looked like Seth was going to argue, but he let it drop. “Little wolf? Did you see Seth coming toward you? Is that how you knew?” His tone was soft, but he was a bit angry.

“Sir,” I looked him directly in the eye to show that I wasn’t lying. “I felt it.”

He nodded his head no. “That’s not possible. A human cannot imprint on a wolf.”

I nodded reassuringly. “I know that sir. I don’t know how I felt it, but it was like a wave of anger rolled over me.”

Sika’s anger hung in the air. With a slight huff of exasperation, he went back in the house. “Don’t you worry about him, little wolf.” Fia said. “His entire life he’s heard it’s impossible. We all have, but the more I see you with Roman, the more I KNOW you’re imprinted. Sika will come around when he sees the proof.”

This was the first I’d heard about being able to prove imprinting. “It can be proven?” I asked.

Fiafia nodded slightly. “There are a few of our tribe who can read minds. When we get to Samoa, they’ll meet with you and Roman, and tell the truth. Sika will calm down once it’s proven. He’s just scared for his son.”

At least the imprinting could be proven, and if that was true, then Roman wasn’t going to get in trouble. Was he?

@mindofasagitarius   @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart @spookys-girl @pitlissa22

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #seth rollins #dean Ambrose