#din went through all that just for the armourer let bo take her helmet off

[phantom-of-the-501st]

The Armourer, leading a helmetless Bo: Bo-Katan walks both paths. She can reunite the Mandalorians and help us reclaim Mandalore.

Din, who almost drowned just to be back in the covert:

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 5: The Covert ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2300>

Warnings: possessive!Din, manhandling, discussions of an arranged marriage, food mention

Series Masterlist

You’d made yourself feel welcome on Nevarro. It was a beautiful day and you made the effort to speak to some of the locals. You even spotted a vendor selling sourberries, so it was a shame that you had no credits on you to make a purchase of the craved food. Grogu was having the time of his life too. He stayed close to you for the most part, but he did take you to a small green water pond so he could eat the frogs when you weren’t looking.

As you adjusted your cloak, you noticed, on the other side of the pond, a group of stormtroopers. There were about five or six of them, standing in a circle and making brief glances back to you and the child. It was enough to make you uncomfortable, that’s for sure. Din wouldn’t have taken you to another Imperial ruled planet. That would have been ridiculously unsafe -- so, why were they there? Maybe you were wrong to leave the ship. Maybe you should head back now.

“Hey kid,” you cooed quietly, reaching out to grab Grogu and hold him in your arms. “We better head back now.”

“Leaving so soon?” A stormtrooper asked, the second you swivelled around on your heel. He was just inches away from your face, so much so, you thought you could see his eyes through the visor of his white Imperial helmet. “We have eyes on the princess.” he announced through a comlink, and your eyes went comically wide upon realising the trouble you had got yourself in.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, your gaze snapping towards the stormtroopers on the other side of the pond, who were now making their way across the shallow waters.If you didn’t make your move now, you’d be surrounded in a matter of seconds. You slowly began to back away, clutching Grogu to your chest for dear life. “Uhm…” you could always negotiate. That was a skill of yours. You just didn’t know how well it would be utilizing in front of half a dozen stormtroopers. “Boys…”

And within a blink, each stormtrooper fell to the floor, one by one, their bodies crashing down with a thud. One even fell into the pond. You felt your entire body stiffen up, your heart rate picking up speed. You spun around again, ready to bolt back into the village and towards the ship, when you went crashing into a beskar chest plate. “Ow!” you cried, rubbing your nose as you pulled away from… Din. Kriff.

You looked up at him, feeling completely and utterly exasperated, and you offered the Mandalorian a weak smile. “I can explain…” you wheezed. “But how did you-- how did you--”

“Whistling birds.” Din replied, his voice having dropped an octave. Even through the modulator he sounded terrifying. You knew what whistling birds were, remembering that your aunt Bo-Katan trusted them deeply. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet before grabbing your arm and tugging you away from the backwater pond. His grip on you was tight, and firm, and you swore that he had more strength in his hand than you did your entire body. And you weren’t necessarily weak, you didn’t necessarily have a low muscle mass, it was just the Mandalorian was so hench. That much was clear when you noticed how thick his biceps were or how broad his shoulders were, or the way his muscles flexed in his calves with every step he took. You shouldn’t have noticed these things about him, but the fact is, you had, and it sent you into a frenzy.

Maker, he wasn’t hurting you, but he was absolutely manhandling you, dragging you across the grassy sludge as if you were incapable of walking yourself. “Din-- get off!” You growled, trying to tug your arm out of his grip.

Without hesitation he paused in his footsteps and pulled out a small counter device before flicking the switch and turning it on. Low and behold, a hologram image appeared of you. “What is-- what is that?” you questioned, not liking the look of it at all.

“Bounty puck.” he answered matter-of-factly, before turning it back off and sliding it into his pocket. 

“I have a bounty on me?” You asked, your voice going a little too high pitched for comfort. Was that a dumb question?

“Yeah.” Din replied back, in a familiar low modulated grumble, his gloved fingers digging into your skin. “Not just any bounty, an Imperial bounty. You’re lucky I found you before some other hunter got their hands on you.”

“Yeah, I feel very lucky.” you rolled your eyes, your tone of voice dripping with sarcasm. And oh Maker-- Din didn’t like that. He stopped in his footsteps again and this time he grabbed both of your arms, holding you firm and steady. You were scared to breathe the wrong way under his grip.

“You should feel lucky, princess, you know what those kinds of people do to pretty things like you?” he hissed, and you felt a wildness of butterflies erupt in your stomach. Pretty. It was one word and he probably didn’t even mean it. Of course he didn’t mean it, because Din was pissed with you. He wouldn’t be paying you compliments, or at least, not right now. He was trying to intimidate you, and honestly, it was working, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little bit.

And as it turned out, maybe Din liked the idea of being your rescuer a little too much. 

“What do they do?” you whispered, and Din trailed a gloved hand to your neck and let his fingers glide across your jaw before grabbing your neck and giving it an experimental squeeze. Again, it didn’t hurt, but it was enough for you to be put in your place. You had been so used to ruling Mandalore and taking charge, but now you were the one who submitted to Din. He was the one who enforced the rules, that much was clear.

Din didn’t reply to your question, just as much meekly chuckled and shook his head. “You’re lucky,” he repeated, reinforcing his previous statement. “But if you want to misbehave, I can just as easily hand you in.”

He wouldn’t, would he? No. He wouldn’t.

He was just very, very mad.

He was trying to scare you, but you wouldn’t cave. You were better than that.

But still, you wanted to know what exactly would happen if you misbehaved. Your curiosity had piqued significantly.

“You left me and Grogu on the ship, alone,” you muttered by the time you had reached the outskirts of the village. “I thought Nevarro was safe.”

“It was,” Din retorted bitterly. “Keep your head down and take my hand. Imps are swarming the town, we need to hide you before they notice anything suspicious.”

You weren’t going to argue with him because in that moment you knew for sure he was still desperately trying to protect you. He could stay angry with you all he liked, but he was bound by the code of Mandalore to make sure nothing happened to you, and that was good enough.

Din pulled up your hood and tied the little ribbon that bound together your cloak. “I can dress myself.” you mumbled.

“Keep your head down.” he grunted in response.

So, as Din dragged you through the cobbled paths, you didn’t look up once. He was taking you along back alleys and different routes to try and avoid any unwelcome contact, but you did realise that he had parked the ship in the north and you were currently advancing east. Grogu made a confused noise as if he was reading your mind.

“Where are we going?” you quizzed Din.

“Safe spot.” 

If there was one thing that irked you about the Mandalorian, it was his lack of words, or the way when he did speak, he said things as if they couldn’t be questioned. Like they were set in stone.

“Safe spot?” you quirked an eyebrow, wanting a little more information out of him.

But of course, he didn’t provide. “Safe spot.” he reiterated, before dialling in a code on a security panel that was nailed to a wall. 

The door slid open and Din pulled you in, before the door quickly snapped shut behind you both. It was a long dark corridor down that was illuminated with burning candlelight. 

And for the very first time since your childhood, you were greeted with the presence of other Mandalorians, each decked out in full body armour. You felt like an intruder who couldn’t help but stare and take in the fascinating sight before you.

“What is this place?” you asked, your jaw agape.

Whatever annoyance Din had been feeling before was instantly eradicated when he took just one look at you. He felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed the glimmer in your eyes. It was curious and child-like. It gave you this beautiful radiance.

“Covert.” Din replied, the simple one word response offering more information than he’d previously given you. “You’ll be safe here.” he promised.

Din took your hand this time, interlocking his gloved fingers in yours. The touch took you by surprise as it differed from his rough manhandling that you had gotten accustomed too. You followed Din down the never ending corridor until eventually, you both passed through an alcove and were introduced to a golden Mandalorian. 

“This is the Armorer,” Din said. “She’s my mentor.”

The golden Mandalorian curtseyed before you before rising back to her feet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

“The pleasure is mine.” you hummed, still slightly distracted by your whereabouts.

“This specific covert is over two hundred years old,” The Armorer explained to you. “It was the only covert that wasn’t raided during the Great Purge,” You winced at the way she had brought up the memory. “The walls are thick and we have a squad on defence. I trust that Din Djarin has been treating you well?”

You tried to hold back a smirk as you wondered what would happen if you told his mentor of how he’d gotten angry with you. But the truth was, Din had been good to you. Maybe more so than you probably deserved. He never chose to take on this mission, but done so because it was his duty. He was helping you because it was the right thing to do, and that was enough. Morally, Din might have considered himself grey, but you believed that he was in fact a good person.

“He’s been great.” you said softly, and Din felt his cheeks heat up under the beskar.

“Hmph,” the Armorer replied before turning to the Mandalorian. “Can I have a word with you in private, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment as you watched Din and his mentor walk away, leaving you with Grogu. 

“She’s not wearing the ring,” The Armorer said, and despite the golden plated mask that covered her face, Din just knew she was frowning. “You haven’t asked her yet, have you?”

“I haven’t exactly gotten the chance,” Din huffed. “We’ve just met. If I asked her now she’d never say yes. We barely even know each other.”

“But you are getting along fine?” The Armorer asked, and Din didn’t reply. He just breathed an exasperated huff of air which wasn’t even picked up by his modulator. “We can’t give her the protection she desires if she doesn’t marry into the Watch. This is the way.” The Armorer explained matter-of-factly.

This is the way. Din often wondered if the Armorer just made up ‘the way’ as she went along, using it as a way to justify all her decisions. Although, it did make sense, to a degree. Din’s creed were very proud. They were strong, and there were at least thirty other children of the Watch roaming the halls of the covert. If you married into Din’s creed, you would technically become a child of the Watch yourself. You’d be safe.

Would it be wise to bring up the things you had told Din about the Watch, and how they had treated your people? Din had been questioning it, but there was no way of telling how the Armorer would react to such gossip. The last thing Din needed right now was for his mentor to think he was betraying his creed in favour of the princess.

The prolonged silence between both Mandalorians prompted the Armorer to speak up again. “You have until nightfall to propose. Otherwise she must leave, and you will seek new protection.”

And that was when the first penny dropped. This was essentially blackmail, and it left Din with no choice. Sure, you were great. You were strong and beautiful and you had this undeniable fiest about you. And Din saw the way you were with Grogu. It was enough to soften him more than he’d ever been softened before. You brought out a completely new side to the Mandalorian. Maybe one day, Din could marry you - out of want, not need. Maybe settling down with you and the kid would be… nice.

He’d thought about the prospect of leaving everything behind when he last ventured to Sorgan and befriended the gentle widow Omera. But in that moment, he had other priorities to focus on. But what were his priorities now? Before you came into his life, he was simply floating between bounties and residing on Nevarro with Grogu. Grogu. That was Din’s priority. And now… you were too. So no, proposing wouldn’t be ideal. But if it meant guaranteeing your safety, Din knew what he had to do.

And he had until nightfall.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711​​ @supernaturalgirl​​ @phoenixhalliwell​​ @ah-callie​​ ​ @stardust-galaxies​​ ​ @wickedfrsgrl​​ ​@goth-topic ​​ ​ @nerdypinupcrystal​​ ​ @wonderfulfluffer​​ ​ @kiwi-the-first​​ ​ @pedroepascal​​ ​ @castiel-barnes​​ ​ @honeymandos​​ ​ @rocketqueen​​ @ladycumberbatchofcamelot​​ ​ @dybalalover10​​ ​ @girl-obsessed-with-things​​ ​ @elena-myth​​ ​ @moth-guillotine​​ ​ @pedro-pascal-love​​ ​ @hayley-the-comet​​ ​ @pinkninja200​​ @maxiarapamaya​​ ​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​​ ​ @artsymaddie​​ ​ @harrys-stan​​ ​ @kennedywxlsh​​ ​ @cripplingmoon​​ ​ @cheekygeek05​​ ​ @mrschiltoncat​​ ​ @rye-flower​​ ​ @theamuz​​ @persie33​​ ​ @sleepylunarwolf​​ ​ @martellthemandalor​​ ​ @pedro-pastel​​ ​ @steeevienicks​​ ​ @rrtxcmt​​ ​@saphic-susperia ​ ​

Borrowed Time taglist is tagged in comments

Let me know if you wish to be added to my permanent taglist or my Borrowed Time taglist.

[thewayofthemandalorian]

the ties that bind - oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Rating: T Word count: 3,167 Summary:  When you and Din find a solid lead on the child's people, you are faced with the fact that you do not want to let him go. But a promise is a promise, and you must put your feelings aside in order to let the child go. Notes: What an episode! I’m still tearing up just thinking about it. This is a very emotional oneshot based directly on the episode, so heavy spoilers for 2.05 “Chapter 13: The Jedi” ahead. I’d advise waiting until after seeing the episode to read this one.  Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, the briefest mention of sex, angst with a kind of happy ending

Taglist: @dindjarindiaries​  @goldafterglow​ @frannyzooey​  @absurdthirst​​ @catfishingmorales​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @hopelikethesun​ @forever-rogue​ @f0rever15elf​ @thewaythisis ​ @marvel-and-mischief​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @sin-djarin​ @ezrasarm​ @din-damn-djarin​ @opheliaelysia​ @pajamasecrets​ @mandohatesdroids ​ @poenariuniverse​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @auty-ren​ @profkenobi​ @storiesofthefandomlovers​ @ithinkwehitametaphor​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @cinewhore​ @wille-zarr​ @tangledlove27​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @hayley-the-comet​ @clydesducktape ​ @jaime1110​ @computeringturtle​ @lovinglokiforever​ @justanotherblonde23​ ​ @sesamepancakes​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @giselatropicana​ @buckysalefty​ @fromthedeskoftheraven​ @paintballkid711​ @ghostwiththemostbitch​ @revolution-starter​ @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @lilkermit14​ @luvzoria​ @none-of-your-bullshit​ @sithkrispies @xserenax-13​ @princess-and-pedro​ @dee-rosemary​ @kid-from-new-zealand​ @chibi-liz05​ @dearspacepirates​ @mandolover86​ @teaofpeach​ @ohpedromypedros-main​ @kirstiehenderson29​ @kiwi-the-first​

masterlist || read on ao3 || taglist form

It’s been a rough few days. Hell, a rough few weeks.

Ever since Mandalore heiress Bo-Katan Kryze informed your lover, Din Djarin, about where to find a proper lead on the baby’s people, a pit of dread has been settled in your stomach, growing with each passing day.

You knew that as soon as the Armorer told you that you and Mando had to reunite the child with his people, your time with him was limited.

But that didn’t stop you from loving him. Wanting him to be with you and Din to raise for the rest of your lives, far-fetched as that dream may have been. All the same, you were the coddling one with the small creature. Loving him. Taking care of him when Mando was searching for bounties.

You loved the child the same way a mother would love a son. And, he loved you the way a son would love his mother. Loved Din like a son loved a father.

How the hell were you supposed to give him up and move on like nothing had happened?

Through all this, Din acted as though everything was fine. That this was something he wanted to do. It was what he was tasked to do, after all, he would say to you in the dark.

You couldn’t claim to know Din Djarin that well, having been a part of his crew for less than six months, but you knew what his tells were. You could sense when he was lying most of the time.

It just hurt, how stoic he was about it all, when you knew that beneath it all, he wasn’t. You had seen the true version of the Mandalorian bounty hunter that had struck fear into people’s hearts. Even from you, Din hid his true emotions.

You had never seen this man’s face. Not properly, anyhow. Nothing more than mere shadows and rare glimpses in the darkness of his sleeping cubby.

It hadn’t started out this way. You were merely hired to be an extra set of hands and help take care of the child when he couldn’t. But somewhere along the way, you had wormed your way into his bed. And his heart. He hadn’t said the words to you yet, nor you to him, but you knew you loved each other. You knew from the way he held you, the way he kissed you in the dark with such heartbreaking tenderness. How he looked out for you.

Which is why this hurt so much.

You tried very hard, for your sake, as well as Din’s and the child’s sakes, to keep it together. To not let your emotions cloud your judgement. The two of you had been tasked to reunite the baby with the Jedi. You and Mando were people of your word.

But, a small voice whispered, the Armorer also said that another option was until the baby came of age.

It was back-and-forth like that for days. Weeks, even. Din, if he had noticed your shifted behaviour, hadn’t said anything. Whether that was because he didn’t notice, or didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t be sure. He himself had also changed his behaviour, especially with the baby he had been tasked with protecting. While he was more fatherly with him than he had been before, he was also more distant as well, contradicting himself.

The three of you had taken off from Nevarro to Corvus with haste following the revelation that Moff Gideon was still alive and wanted the child - the asset, as everyone kept calling him.

And now you were just a few parsecs away from this Ahsoka Tano, due to arrive sometime tomorrow. Din was rocking the child to sleep, humming a lullaby from his youth to the child quietly.

Your heart clenched at the sight. Din had removed his pauldrons for the baby’s comfort before telling you he’d be along shortly, to get ready for bed.

Usually that would send waves of desire through you, but tonight you were distracted. Trying to keep the tears at bay.

* * *

“Cyare, are you all right?” Din’s modulated voice made you jump. You hadn’t heard him come into the sleeping compartment. “You’ve been far-away for a while now. Since we departed from Trask.” He sounded concerned.

Pressing your hand to your eyes to stave off the fresh tears you hoped he couldn’t see, you nodded. “I’m fine, Din.” Your voice broke, your breath hitching as you tried to steady yourself.

“No, you’re not, sweet girl.” Din began to remove his chest plate. A tear rolled sideways onto the pillow as he moved on to his leg armour. Usually that was the last bit he removed before moving on to his helmet. No tell-tale hissing sound filled the air, however.

You sniffed quietly. Mando heard it, you knew he did. “I just …” you started, not knowing what to say. “He …”

Din sighed his trademark sigh. “I know mesh’la.” His voice was quiet, tender. “I know.”

Of course he knew. Din Djarin always knew.

“I know we’re supposed to reunite him with his people. But what if this Ahsoka Tano isn’t who Bo-Katan says she is?” You can’t help but ask it. You hadn’t trusted the Mandalorian woman. Not fully, anyway. Not in the way you had inherently trusted Din when the two of you had met on Sorgan when he was first on the run with the child.

“We have no choice, cyar’ika.” You knew he was going to say that. “We’ve been tasked -”

You cut him off. “I know we have, Din. I was there when she told us that we had to find his people. But she also said that you were as his father until he came of age, too.”

Din sighed again as he pressed the button at his gauntlet to plunge the sleeping compartment into darkness. A minute later, you heard the hissing sound of his helmet come off.

Snuggling in beside you, his arm slung around your hip loosely, Din spoke. “I can’t - It’s not safe for him to stay with us. You know that.”

Your voice was more brittle than you intended it to be. “Yeah, like going with the Jedi is going to be so much safer for him. You said so yourself, wherever we go, he goes.”

The words hang in the air between you for a moment before you continue. “I know I’m not a part of your clan, that you’re a clan of two -”

Din interrupted you. “Would you like to be?”

“Are - what?” To say you are stunned would be a massive understatement. “Din, I -”

“I love you,” Din said suddenly, his lips grazing your cheek lightly. “And I don’t want my clan of two to become a clan of one again, even after we part ways with the kid.”

Tears sprang to your eyes again. “Don’t say that.” You were still reeling from his sudden proposal. “I can’t bear to think about it.”

Din swiped away a tear that was rolling down your cheek. “This is the Way,” he said mournfully.

* * *

Corvus frightened you. When Bo-Katan said it was a forest planet, you were expecting it to be lush and green and peaceful. Not a ghostly, sick planet overrun with tyranny. You stood close to Din as he spoke with the Imperial rulers of the city, trying not to let your gaze linger on the prisoners strung up in the courtyard.

“What kind of a place is this to leave a child?” you asked Din as you walked in the direction that the Imperial woman sent you. Din said nothing in response.

Ahsoka Tano wasn’t what you were expecting her to be. She was a kind and lovely soul, but also very bitter and resigned to the fate of the Jedi, grief lacing her words as she spoke of a former Jedi master who had given into the darkness.

Having very little else to do, you merely listened to what Din and Ahsoka had to say to one another, feeling vindication when she said that the child had bonded with the two of you.

You sat with the child - Grogu, you corrected yourself - as Din and Ahsoka went to take the city back from the Imperial forces. It was almost a relief to have something to call him after not knowing for so long.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you looked at Grogu sleeping. Another one. Soon, you could hardly see the sleeping child in front of you. You covered your mouth to stifle your sobs. You knew that it was only a matter of minutes before you and Din would have to part ways with him.

Unable to keep your sobs silent any longer, you shut the compartment door so that you wouldn’t wake little Grogu. Allowing the sobs to rack your body, you didn’t hear your lover come in.

Firm arms wrapped around you, cradling you close as you sobbed into the cold steel of Din’s chest plate. “It’s all right, my love. Let it out. It’s okay.” Din’s words were soothing as he stroked your back, though you noticed how his voice was shaking, his breathing hitched.

You could hardly stand any longer. Din seemed to sense this, allowing the two of you to fall to the floor together, his strong arms still around you protectively.

It broke his heart to see you this broken up, your emotions matching his own hidden ones.

“I can’t do it, Din. I don’t know how to say goodbye to him. Not when he’s become like a son to us.” Your words were choked in between sobbing, shuddering gusts of breath. “I don’t know how you’re so okay with this.”

Din pulled back for a moment, his helmet tilted at you. “I’m not.” His voice was thick through the modulator. “But I have to at least try to be.” A moment passed. Then, “Mesh’la, can you close your eyes?”

You frowned at him in confusion, but complied just the same. A second later Din took your hands in his, guiding them to his face.

His face was wet. Oh.

“This week has been the hardest week I’ve had in a long time. I keep thinking about how after today -” Din cut himself off, trying to keep his voice steady. “After today, he won’t be a part of our family.” You let out another sob. “But we made a promise. To return him to his people. People who can help him.”

You made no attempt to keep your voice steady or even. “But Din. We are his people. Ahsoka said so herself. He’s bonded with us, with you.”

You could feel Din nodding against your hands. “I know.” A tear slipped onto your finger. “But he will be better with the people who understand his abilities. The Force.”

The Force, although Tano had explained it well, still confused you, as you knew it stil confused Din.

Din moved your hands away from his face and kissed you, your tears mingling with his. “I want you to know,” he said, his voice more even. “That I meant what I asked last night. I want you to be my riduur - my wife.”

You nestled your face into the soft material at his neck. “I love you, Din. I do. And I want you to be my husband. But right now we have to bring him to Ahsoka.”

It broke your heart to say it. But a promise was a promise. Though you didn’t agree, you understood Din when he said that the child you had come to think of as yours and Din’s would be better with people who were familiar with the Force.

“We should wake him,” Din whispered as you pulled yourself away from him, eyes still firmly shut.

You were tempted to give Din and his son some privacy while Din sat with him as he woke from his rest. But then Din gestured you come over and sit with the two of them, your last time as a would-be clan of three.

Grogu looked up at you and Din with some concern. He had never known you to be sad. It made him sad to see you so distraught.

You pressed a tearful kiss to his wrinkled forehead. “It’s okay, sweet thing,” you said shakily, as yet another fresh batch of tears fell from your eyes. He reached the hand that wasn’t holding Din’s up to your cheek, wanting to fix whatever was hurting you.

The three of you sat there together, a family for the last time, for as long as you could.

* * *

“I cannot train him.”

The three of you had barely made it down the ramp of the Razor Crest when Ahsoka spoke. Hope sparked in your chest.

Maybe you wouldn’t need to say goodbye after all.

Still, Din spoke, steeling his voice. “You made me a promise, and I held up my end.”

Ahsoka sighed, stepping towards the three of you, her eyes fixed on the child in Din’s hold. She reached out her finger to place it in his small hand. He cooed gently as he took it. He liked her.

“There is one possibility.” You and Din exchanged a glance at this.

Your voice was small as you spoke. “What’s that?”

Ahsoka pulled her hand back slightly, looking at you and Din. “Go to the planet Tython. There you will find the ruins of an ancient temple that has a strong connection to the Force.”

You didn’t allow the hope that was beginning to swell inside you to become too strong. “And what will happen there?”

Ahsoka was serene as she replied. Not hopeful, but not without hope either. “Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”

Din was intrigued. “Then what?” he asked.

All Ahsoka said was, “Then Grogu may choose his own path.” He sputtered up at her at the sound of his name, relinquishing Ahsoka’s finger from his grip completely. “If he reaches out through the Force, there is a chance a Jedi may sense it and come to search for him.”

Din was quiet as he tilted his helmet slightly. He sensed a but coming.

Sure enough, there was. “Then again, there aren’t many Jedi left.” Ahsoka sounded almost despondent, alone.

“Thank you,” Din whispered. Though what he was thanking her for, you couldn’t be sure. For the information? For helping him? Allowing the little one to stay with you?

A stray tear slipped conspicously from your eye. Ahsoka noticed but said nothing more than, “May the Force be with you.”

You and Din turned awkwardly from her, ascending back up the ramp. The small creature looked over Din’s shoulder at Ahsoka as you made your way into the hull of the ship. You noticed Ahsoka smile a true smile at the three of you as the ramp lifted itself up.

* * *

“C’mon ki - Grogu,” Din corrected himself, remembering how he had responded upon hearing his name spoken by Din the night before.

The child in question was in your lap, dozing against your chest as you stroked his back.

It was going to take some time getting used to him having a proper name.

“Time for bed.” Din took him from you gently. “And perhaps for us as well,” he said to you.

As you got ready for bed, exchanging your day tunic for your sleep one, you thought back to what Ahsoka had said, that Grogu considered you to be his family. If anyone would know about bonding, it was probably her. It was a very similar thought to the one you had voiced to Din earlier.

But we’re his people.

Though it was a simple thing, one that you had thought since before the Armorer had declared it, it was good to have it properly confirmed.

You didn’t know what Tython would bring, what he would choose. But if Ahsoka’s words had any value as you thought them to, then perhaps you and Din had reason to hope.

“Are you okay?” Din surprised you. “Today was rough.”

You nodded as you helped him unclasp his cloak and armour. “I think so. I’m so relieved that we didn’t have to say goodbye just yet.”

Din nodded as he reached for his helmet. “I don’t even know where Tython is. The map was inconclusive.”

He reached out and grabbed the hand that was stretching to get the light so that he could take the helmet off. “It’s fine, cyare. I already consider you a part of my clan.”

Tears of a different kind sprang to your eyes. You were going to get dehydrated from all this crying. Still, your voice was teasing as Din eased both of your hands up to his helmet with his own hands. “Yeah? Good. I consider you to be a part of mine, too.”

As you lay with him, having finally seen his face, he spoke quietly to you in the dark, just loud enough for you to hear as you fell into the embrace of sleep for the night. “May we be a clan of three for as long as possible.”

[presidentrhodes]

44. Din + Omera 🥺

44. “You’ve always felt like home.” (Angst/Fluff prompt list) 

After Grogu left with the Jedi, Din hit the road — a quick trip to Nevarro and a discreet under-the-table handshake with Greef Karga earned Din, his first bounty puck in more than a year. Tucking it in his belt, next to the gear knob that felt heavier day by day, Din wandered around the spaceport outside the city.

He needed a ship.

After a bit of haggling and veiled threats, he landed a bargain on another pre-Empire gunship, in a considerably better shape than the Razor Crest — with four laser cannons instead of two but lacked a carbonite freezing chamber. Still, it didn't feel like home. The cold, unmoving durasteel interior lacked the warmth and familiarity Din had grown used to onboard the Razor Crest.

With the ship in hyperdrive, en route to Ryloth, Din spent time in the cargo hold arranging his newly acquired arsenal into the weapons locker. Home. He thought about that word lately, what it meant, what it should have meant if he had been born at a more peaceful time before the Galaxy imploded. The Razor Crest used to be home, the same way Grogu was once his home, the Tribe and his Creed, the little settlement on Aq Vetina, — all of them were gone, reduced to mere fragments of memory.

Din sighed.

***

The bounty required minimal effort — a Twi'lek spice runner who had fallen into debt. Din tracked the target through valleys and jungles, apprehending them on the third night. Tired of the Twi'lek's desperate struggles to get free and their insistent pleas for mercy, Din knocked them out cold and hoisted them over his shoulder to make the long, arduous trek back to the ship.

Back on Nevarro, Din tuned out the kicking and screaming as Karga's men dragged the target off his ship. It didn't matter, nothing did anymore — there was only the next job, the next bounty as Din went looking for his next puck.

***

He spent a year going from one bounty to the next, racking up enough credits to upgrade the ship's weapons system, its engines and even install a carbonite freezing chamber to make his job easier.

Nothing he did brought back the warmth and comfort he had gotten used to: The soft coos that used to wake him up, the nasal whines that drew his attention whenever the child was hungry, the chittering giggles that echoed through the cockpit everytime Grogu found the sweets Din kept hidden from sight.

Din studied his next puck and sighed. Tatooine. Karga had been cagey about the details — no chain code, only a fob with a location. He had been weary to take the job; the last time Karga had been that secretive over a bounty, Din had learned the true meaning of loss and heartbreak. He was still reeling from it. But Din needed the credits to pay off the latest upgrades he made to the ship.

***

On Tatooine, he parked at a different hanger on the Mos Eisley spaceport. He didn't have the heart to face Peli — though she had only met Grogu a handful of times, Din knew she had grown to care for him. Learning about the kid's departure would break her heart and the least Din could do to repay her kindness was to spare her from the truth.

He followed the tracking fob into the desert until the spires of a familiar fortress came into view. Din paused. "What the—"

"I was hoping you'd take the bounty," someone said as Din turned while his hand reached for the blaster on instinct.

Upon seeing his unexpected companion, Din let out the breath he had been holding in and sighed. "Fett." Realization dawned on him at Boba's words as Din's expression morphed into a frown. “You're the client? Who the hell is the bounty then?"

"Me." Fett had the audacity to chuckle. Din took a step closer and Boba raised his hands. He was unarmed and out of armour — surely Fennec had to be nearby with the rifle trained on Din. "Easy there. I just want to talk and you haven't been answering lately."

Din dropped his hand to his side. "I've been busy."

"Clearly. Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

***

Though Din had heard rumours on the HoloNet, he didn't believe Boba was crazy enough to take over Tatootine's crime syndicate. Walking though the Hutt Palace, Din said, his voice a little in awe, "I didn't think you had actually done it. I heard whispers but this—this is—" He gestured at the surrounding. "You're a crazy shabuir."

Boba chuckled. "Yeah well, this seemed more reasonable than your quest, burc'ya. Taking back Mandalore? Insanity."

Din waited for the other shoe to drop. He knew Boba was baiting him — wanting to dig out information from Din to piece together whatever else he had gathered in their time apart since they apprehended Moff Gideon. After a brief silence, Boba's patience got the better of him. "Bo-Katan contacted me. A few weeks ago. She must be getting desperate if she is reaching out to me."

"You are a crime lord. You have resources that could be of use in her efforts. She may be arrogant but she's no fool," Din replied. They resumed walking until they arrived at what looked like a private meeting chamber. Boba pointed towards the seats by the fireplace and Din obliged as he sank onto one of them.

"She's not interested in what I have to offer. She called about you."

Din frowned under his helmet. Of course she would — onboard Gideon's cruiser, Bo-Katan had shown a surprising level of tact in the end as she allowed Din to walk back on his promise, and to leave with the Darksaber. "We will see you soon, brother," she had said with the forced pleasantries of someone who knew they had, temporarily, been defeated. Her words were laced with a promise she was keen to make good on but with Din's constant moving around the Outer Rims made her task difficult.

"I'm not interested to rule Mandalore. Yet she refuses to take the Darksaber." Din did little to hide the irritation in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at the man opposite him — had Boba lured him to Tatooine with a bounty on his own head just to force a meeting with Bo-Katan? A meeting that Din had gone out of his way to delay because he had no interest in acquiring the legacy of a dead planet that would never feel like home. And—since when had Boba been doing Bo-Katan's biding?

As if understanding Din's line of thinking, Boba shook his head and offered a quick explanation. "I couldn't care less about what the Princess wants. She can wait. I'm—I'm worried about you. There's been a great deal of murmur about you in the past year. You're working yourself to exhaustion."

"Am not." The denial felt hollow. Din's voice sounded unconvincing and he slid down his seat, hating the sympathetic look in Boba's eyes. If he hadn't met Boba, if he had just gone by the myth surrounding the Empire's most famous bounty hunter, Din would've never believed the man's capacity for kindness, lost among the tides of his bottomless rage. "I don't need your pity, Fett. I'm doing just fine."

"Never said you weren't," came the sharp reply. "But you're a man without purpose. You're lost, you need closure."

Din sighed. In silence, he plotted a way to make a quick exit and return to Mos Eisley. If he hurried back to the ship, he could still make it back to Nevarro, pick up a bounty in a nearby system and settle his debt over the ship. Anything to get out of listening to Boba drone about Din's emotional state of being. As if Boba had any ground to stand on and lecture him about closure.

"Are you done? I have to go. Not all of us have the luxury of running a crime syndicate. Some of us have to work to pay off our debts." Din stood up, prepared to make his exit. Without an armour, he doubted Boba could physically stop him and the palace seemed to lack a heavy security presence.

"I'll pay your bounty," Boba said and his words stopped Din on his tracks. "50,000 credits as agreed. More if you want but in return, I need you to do something for me."

Din was a practical man. He wouldn't let his ego get in the way of his income. Boba continued: "I want you to stop. Take some time off, find some backwater planet to lay low and heal. Because Bo-Katan is assembling Mandalorians in the outer worlds and there will come a time when there will be a challenge for the throne. And not all of them will be as generous with you as you were with that Imp."

"Why do you care so much?" Din couldn't resist asking. "Mandalore is a dead planet, you said so yourself."

"I don't care—" Boba hesitated, a flicker of doubt on his scarred face. "But if Mandalore is to be restored, it is in the Galaxy's best interest that it isn't ruled by another blood-thirsty dinii. Or else the fighting will never stop. It needs to be you who sits on the throne, not Bo-Katan or worse, a Viszla."

***

Din took the credits and left Tatooine by sundown. As his ship flew over Hangar 3-5, Din felt a pang of guilt in his chest. As much as Din wanted to spare Peli the painful truth about Grogu, a selfish part wanted her to know, if only to share the misery of the kid's absence with someone.

He considered returning to Nevarro but it no longer felt like home. The Tribe was gone — dead or scattered throughout the Outer Rim with no foreseeable ways for Din to contact them. Even if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to return. Din didn't know if he wanted to return after breaking the Creed. Arvala-7 came up on his radar until he remembered Kuiil had sacrificed everything to protect Grogu and it made his stomach churn.

After drifting around for days, Din charted a course for Sorgan. He didn't know what to expect there but he hoped there would still be a touch of familiarity that he hadn't felt since Grogu left.

As his ship cruised in hyperdrive towards Sorgan, Din wondered about Grogu — it had been more than a year since the kid left with the Jedi. Din had belatedly found out the it was the same Jedi who blew up the Death Star that hammered the final nail in the Empire's coffin, sending them scuttling back into the dark, lurking in the shadowy Outer Rim like the unseen monsters in children's tales.

Both Cara and Boba had offered to track down the location of the Jedi temple but Din dissuaded them from their efforts. "No, Gro—the kid needs to concentrate on his training. My presence will be a distraction," he had said. Din hadn't trusted himself to not show up at the temple as soon as he had the coordinates in his hands. Being ignorant of its whereabouts was necessary for Grogu's safety, or so he told himself — Din knew he wouldn't survive making the kid choose between him and the Jedi and if he chose the Jedi.

As he drifted off, Din dreamt of Grogu and their time on Sorgan, where for a short few weeks he could pretend he wasn't a bounty hunter who ran off with the bounty — "You and your boy could have a good life. He could be a child for a while. Wouldn't that be nice?" It would.

***

The lack of a spaceport on Sorgan meant Din had to land his ship in a forest clearing and trek his way to the nearest settlement, about an hour by foot. He considered his options as he walked through the cantina, drawing curious stares and excited whispers among the patrons. It wasn't everyday that a Mandalorian walked through the front doors, especially one whose presence had been spotted on the backwater planet several times.

Sitting down at a corner table with a bottle of spotcka, Din hesitated only for a moment before taking off his helmet. That earned him another round of hushed murmurs. Showing his face in public was still a nauseating experience that left Din feeling exposed. But the helmet felt suffocating at that moment, worsened by the blue liquid's allure.

He drank fast and straight from the bottle, reducing its content by half within a few minutes. The bitter, smoky liquid burned at the back of his throat but it did nothing to ease the perpetual constriction in his chest, like something or someone had gotten a good grip on his heart and refused to let go. Din knew who and that battle had been lost more than a year ago on board an Imperial light cruiser. Din learned to get used to that feeling.

"Excuse me," someone said as they approached his table. Their nervous gait made Din look up and the creases between his brows eased. It was Stoke. "Mando? Is that—is that really you?" Good old Stoke and his buddy, Caben, had lured Din with the promise of accommodation and safe passage (for Grogu) to fight off raiders in their fishing village. Stoke appeared to be alone in the cantina.

"What do you want?" Din crossed his arms and frowned, not the least bit interested in carrying on the conversation. Stoke misunderstood as he sat down across him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Vacation."

Din's deadpan tone failed to deter him as Stoke broke into a wide grin. Leaning on the table, he said, "You should come by the village. It's harvest season and they'd be really happy to see you again. You're our hero, Mando—" Din felt like he was anything but that. He wasn't a hero; he was a lesson in abject failure. His actions had exposed the Tribe, it had gotten a good Ugnaught killed, he had created needless obstacles in his people's quest to reclaim Mandalore. Worst of all, he had broken his Creed, both by necessity and choice, and still he had lost the kid. A fitting punishment for his many crimes — to spend his remaining days yearning for the kid, for his Tribe, for a home but all he deserved was the cold, emptiness of his ship. It wasn't a haven, it was a prison, a fitting choice for a wicked man like him.

Stoke's voice cut through Din's thoughts. "Oh come on, Mando, come stay with us for a while," he said, pleading, before showing his hand. "Omera would be thrilled to see you again."

Din's head snapped up. "No," he said and stood up. Tucking the half-finished bottle under his arm, he tossed a few credits on the bar counter and left. He walked fast, determined to put as much distance between him and the cantina — in case Stoke followed him — until the ship came into view.

***

Din finished the bottle by sundown and tossed it inside the cargo hold, hearing the glass shatter. He didn't move from his seat on the edge of the ramp — there was no kid on board so glass fragments were not an immediate concern. He'd clean up later.

A pleasant breeze blew through the forest that made the leaves rustle while the stagnant air was punctured by calls of wild animals prowling in the distance. The planet's humidity left him flushed and sweating under the armour. Before the constant suffocation in his chest worsened, Din stood on shaky legs and went inside to strip out of the beskar and the flight suit. Instead, he put on a pair of brown pants, a beige shirt and a black waistcoat with holsters for his blaster.

The second he left the ship, Din knew it would be a bad idea but his legs carried him on their own accord, the destination imprinted into every cell in his body. He didn't have the right to impose on a quiet, unassuming fishing village any more than he already had — while Stoke had earlier assured him his presence would be welcomed, Din's own conscience was conflicted. Already, the Tribe was gone because of him, Kuiil was gone because of him, how many more people would pay the price for acquainting with him? Like the planet of his people, Din knew he was cursed.

By the time he came out of the forest, the villagers had retreated to their homes for the night. Cartons full of krill lined up along the edge of the lake as Din stumbled his way down the uneven path, twice avoiding tumbling into the water. The booze at least numbed the tightness in his chest and—

"Hold it right there," someone said from the periphery. Din squinted in the darkness, trying to get a look at the unexpected companion. "I mean it. Step away from the harvest and turn around. Slowly. Otherwise I will shoot." Even drunk, Din had no doubt the threat wasn't made in jest. Raising his hands, he turned and found himself looking down the barrel of a familiar blaster — one that he had owned for years, one that he had left behind on Sorgan both as a souvenir and as a source of reassurance. "Take it. Please. You can use it to protect yourself and your daughter," Din had said once.

"Omera," Din slurred.

Omera lowered the blaster and in proximity, Din saw the confusion unfurling across her face. "How do you know my name?" she said, her voice low with suspicion. She raised the blaster back in Din's face and placed a finger on the trigger. "Answer me!"

"It's me," Din said, swallowing back bile. His stomach churned, tying itself into knots and he managed to blurt, "Mando," before emptying the contents of a rationed lunch and spotchka on the dirt path.

The blaster was gone. In its place, a pair of gentle hands held Din's shoulders until he stopped hurling and broke into a coughing fit. The hands guided Din down the uneven path towards one of the houses — inside, everything happened in a blur: Omera sat him down by the fireplace and held a glass of water at his lips. After he drank, she wiped his face with a damp cloth and helped him out of the black waistcoat, setting it and his blaster on a nearby table, within his reach.

"What happened to you?" she said when Din became cognizant of his surroundings, after the booze-addled nausea had passed and he could think straight again. Omera stood in front of Din and as he looked up, he noticed her eyes were as beautiful as the first day he had seen her. She ran her fingers through his hair and took his face between her hands, her forlorn expression gave away her question. "Where's your boy?"

That proved to be the final straw. For more than year, Din had reassured himself that letting Grogu go was the right thing to do. It had been for the kid's safety. The Jedi could protect him better than Din could and every other sacrifice was made to save Grogu. Losing the Tribe had been worth it. Losing Kuiil had been a necessary sacrifice. Losing the Razor Crest was another necessity, breaking his Creed served a higher purpose — at the end of the day, Grogu was still gone. "He's—he's gone," he said in a soft, trembling voice, choking back a sob. "He was all I had left and—and he's gone."

Without a word, Omera pulled him close, allowed Din to bury his face into her tunic and let out sobs that shook his frame. He clung to her, his skin clammy with desperation and her solid presence became an anchor in the swirling tides of emotions that threatened to overwhelm his mind. Din lost track of time. Pulling back, he took sharp breaths that forced air back into his lungs and wiped his eyes. Looking up at her, he blushed and stammered, searching for words to excuse his behaviour. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

Omera pressed a finger to his lips. She cupped his cheeks and smiled. "You don't ever have to apologise for anything, Mando—"

He interrupted. "Please. Call me Din."

Sitting by the fireplace, Din told her everything: His quest to find Grogu a Jedi master, his search for other Mandalorians, the run-ins with remnants of the Empire. When Din paused, Omera leaned forward to brush back his fringes. "So you're the king of Mandalore now?" She studied him and her smile broaded. "It suits you. You have really kind, brown eyes, and after everything you say your people have been through, they could use a leader like you."

Din tucked his head, blushing. It wasn't the first time he heard someone say he was meant to be the Mand'alor, but her voice carried an air of sincerity that chased away the constriction in his chest. His heart thrummed against his ribs but this time, it felt different. Her words freed him in a way Boba's words had caged him into a title he hadn't wanted.

"You really think I could do it? Be honest. Please." He needed to know.

"Do you want to do it? Do you want to be a king?"

Her words gave Din pause. Did he want to rule a society where he had always felt like he was one mistake away from being an outcast? As a foundling, Din had always doubled down in everything he did to prove his worth but his devotion to the Creed was still questioned. Paz had done little to hide his disdain when Din joined the Bounty Hunters Guild. Yet, the more he had heard about Mandalore, its violent but glorious past, Din had come to see the complexity of wielding the Darksaber. Boba had been right — if Mandalore was to thrive again, it needed to be rebuilt on an understanding of unity and loyalty. Not just to the Mand'alor but to each other. Unity between the clans could make their society untouchable once more and if Mandalorians rallied behind Din, then Grogu would be protected no matter where the Jedi had taken him. No Imp would dare touch the kid.

"If you had asked me this a year ago, I'd have said no but now—if it can keep Grogu safe, then I owe it to him to try," Din said, leaning into her touch.

"Then you must do it. Children are the future. But for now, I insist you stay here. At least for the night."

Din looked down at his palms. "I don't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing." Omera leaned closer. Din saw a sliver of doubt cross her face before she pressed her lips against his, a quick peck that ended almost as soon as it began. Din’s chest fluttered as he watched Omera duck her head, biting back a smile that threatened to pour from her lips. "You'll always have a home here," she said and if Din hadn't been sitting so close to her, he wouldn't have heard it.

Din spent more than a year searching for a place to belong again, where he could rebuild his life until Grogu came back — he had to. Not once did it cross his mind that he could one day belong, even for a short while, in a krill farming village tucked behind the forest in a backwater planet in the Outer Rim. Still, a part of him felt as if this was where he was always meant to be. "You've always felt like home, Omera, and I'm sorry it took me so long to find my way back," he said, pulling her onto his lap as she pressed their lips together again.

Din was finally home.